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Topics - Aiden

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Areas / The Great Western Mountains
« on: January 30, 2021, 03:05:59 AM »
The Great Western Mountains

Few speak credibly of the splendors of the West in this Age of the Nexus. It is a distant place to most, one of rugged hills leading to impassable cliffs seemingly set to bar the way of unfit travelers. Those who so cleverly sought to pass them by the waters of the Great Divide, to move against its currents and seek its source, are crushed beneath falls at least a thousand meters high. Only mighty heroes, powerful magics, or recent advances in aviation technology permit exploration of anything more than the foothills of these tremendous peaks and the wonders they hide within. Even they find limits to what they may reach before the great mists of the mountains, known as the Mountains’ Mantle, consume all sense of space and time.

Tales that have been spun from the memories of the ancient and adventuresome speak of forgotten magics, terrible monsters, and lost artifacts dating back to the earliest histories of the Nexus. It contains places of power long sought after by countless expeditions from the Citadel of Sorcery and other various figures of wealth and influence: the Black Forge within whose fires any item might be wrought; the Temple of Ages, where one can witness the truth of times before and after; or the World’s End, where the restless shades of the First Chief’s companions are said to stand vigil against horrors left over from the Third Age.

What is spoken less by the wise are stories of the people who live in these hills and valleys: the glory of their lands, and the hardships that have endured since their migration to the Great Western Mountains long ago. Below is listed but a fragment of their struggles.

Some Notable Areas

The Land of Forever Fall, Endien, is a magical kingdom inhabited by the long-lived elven Highborne, their half-blooded commoner children, and a small minority of humans lurking at the fringes. Their Great Houses practice traditions of craftsmanship, martial arts, and musical magic built over thousands of years in isolation. They are the inheritors of a long exile from earliest form of the Citadel of Sorcery, the descendants those who refused to abide slavery and dark magic and were willing to fight to free those who were victims of those very things. Unfortunately they have spent the last several thousand years in a state of conflict with the descendants of the very beings they rescued from bondage, refusing to allow them entry to the rest of the Nexus to finish their vengeance.

The Land of Neverending Night, Vinyë, is a land of choking ash and fiery rain. Separated from the wondrous hills of Endien by a range of volcanoes and a series of fortress gates, the monstrous inhabitants crave vengeance for ancient sins. The Highborne, their children, the sorcerers of the Citadel, anyone and everything that supports their power - all of it must satiate the hatred that dwells in their hearts. Orcs, goblins, and other savage creatures compete with one another for scarce resources and hone their fury for every war to follow. And yet now they have grown quiet, still, for in their bones they can feel the weakening of the seal preventing their great ancestor, the Dark Lord Yaru, from rising again. Their time is near once more.

2
Areas / Nyasus
« on: January 16, 2021, 11:45:43 PM »
Nyasus

For too long the catgirls of the Nexus had been exploited, turned into slaves and trophies for the upper crust of humanity. Despite their fierce sense of pride and their free spirited ways there has been little hope of this status quo being upturned… until now. From the ashes of sorrow and despair the feline females of the world came together to build a great land for themselves where they could live in peace and not-quite-harmony with one another, free to get into random scuffles over territory and munch on fish products to their hearts’ content. For generations they lived on this way… until the nobility of Pine Garden sought to return to the old ways, and claim for themselves a new generation of pets.

The survivors have banded together even more closely than before, the most militant among them taking charge and enforcing a discipline that had previously been lacking. With the secret aid of foreign powers looking to check the excesses of the nobility of Pine Garden, the feline military government of Nyasus has constructed a great magi-technical fortress city to protect their people from further invasion. In return for this safety all remaining freedoms among the people are but pacifying illusions used to distract them from the military’s total control, and from the morally bankrupt dealings that have been required to secure their positions.

Politics

Nyasus is governed by its military, with the Supreme Leader also being the leader of its armed forces. All of the top political positions are appointed by the Supreme Leader, and upward mobility is governed by a system of favor within the series of departments and ministries beneath them. At any time the Supreme Leader can suspend a position, and while they cannot be seen to the general public to be willing to execute their own officials without some form of probable cause they are served by a cadre of operatives who can manufacture such causes and carry out ‘sanctioned executions.’

All business is deeply in bed with the government, and success is governed by a business owner’s ability to foster close and favorable relationships with someone within the cabinet of the Supreme Leader. Ultimately, all of it exists to furnish the lifestyles of the district’s leaders and to provide for the military force that keeps them in power and the Gardeners out.

Above even the Supreme Leader are the series of agreements baked into the foundational documents of Nyasus which allow for the continued provision of necessary resources from outside forces responsible for its continued existence. These outside powers are hidden from the general populace, as the government seeks to promote a culture of feline isolationism and supremacy and would not like to have its image undermined by the idea that it could all come crumbling down at the whim of another.

Culture

As can be expected of a district full of catgirls, Nyasus’ culture can be best described as self-indulgent. While the territorial clashes of their ancestors are a thing of the past, Nyasians still concern themselves in their day to day lives primarily with the acquisition and preservation of personal luxuries, and of strutting about while pretending that their goofy antics are the height of elegance and sophistication. Competitive fighting both in hand to hand and with mechanized vehicles is a common pastime, and is promoted by the government as a means to encourage young catgirls to join the military with a pre-existing skillset.

The modeling industry is strong in Nyasus, as the feline instinct to show off from a position of strength is translated into constant attempts to one up each other in appearance. Nyasian propaganda videos occasionally find their way to the internet of the rest of the Nexus demonstrating superior catgirl supermodels as a way of luring in potential victims. Outside media is somewhat restricted, and anything that portrays a catgirl in a position of submission is strictly forbidden by government censors. On the other hand anything that portrays other creatures in positions of inferiority to a catgirl is pushed as ‘high culture.’

Military Power

On the surface the district of Nyasus is like any other technologically and socially advanced   district when it comes to military structure: They have a hierarchy of officers and soldiers, with standardized uniforms, equipment and training. This is the face they present at military purrades, in propaganda pieces, and when defending the capital and political VIPs. APCs, tanks, machine guns, assault rifles, all of that and more are available to the incredible and incredibly disciplined soldiers of Nyasus. They also maintain an outdated force of boast for coastal defense.

Unfortunately, that makes up a minority of the district’s armed forces. The truth of the matter is that most catgirls suck at maintaining discipline, following orders, or maintaining any standard they don’t impose on themselves. Most of the forces that Nyasus has access to dress however they like, use whatever equipment they can cobble together or get passed down to them by the government, operate as individual skirmishers, and organize themselves like a weird hybrid of street gyang and militia group. They are fond of technyacles — refitted pick up trucks with machine guns mounted on the back and covered in extra armor plating from which catgirls armed with pistols, shotguns, spears, and claws can leap to attack anyone who displeases them. They are similarly fond of motor boats and refitted yachts for naval activity and piracy.

Persons of Interest

Name: Her Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal, Grand Admiral Alicia, VC, DSO, MC, CBE, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas, Lioness of Nyasus and Protector of All Felinids in the Nexus in General and Nyasus in Particular

Race: Homo Sapien Felinus

Age: 42

Height: 160cm

Weight: Normal

Appearance


Attributes

Strength: Incredible

Agility: Incredible

Durability: Incredible

Willpower: Gritty

Magic: None

Magic Resistance: None

Other Abilities
Believable Bullshit: Lying is something that, in most people, provokes a heightened state of physiological arousal. People have tells, their body language and pulse giving them away when they attempt to deceive others. Experience and talent can overcome many of these and turn people into convincing liars, but Field Marshal Alicia has no need for such things because they are just a poor man’s substitute for good ol’ fashioned psychopathy. She can tell you, to your face, something that is contrary to reality, blatantly so, and only magic would ever be able to give away that she didn’t 100% believe this to be true.

Insidious Intrigue: Controlling a totalitarian regime isn’t as simple as just telling people what to do - it’s about playing your minions against each other just enough that they won’t try to usurp you because they’re too busy competing with each other. It’s about centralizing the image of power within yourself, specifically, rather than in your station. Her Excellency Alicia is an expert at this, always keeping the different breeds of catgirl set against each other but only enough to keep them too busy to overthrow her.

Assets
Nyasus: She’s in charge. Its entire economy, all of its military forces, are her’s to do with as she pleases.

Nyanomachines, Gurls: A marvel of technomagical engineering, these tiny mechanisms turn an exceptional but otherwise mundane dictator into a terrible force for tyranny. They possess many functions, from healing internal injuries, temporarily serving in place of oxygen, or rapidly filtering out poisons and toxins that would otherwise see many rulers dead. However, these protective measures pale in comparison to their social capabilities - the production of pheromones which compel arousal and devotion in the nervous systems of other catgirls. Through prolonged and frequent exposure to Alicia’s presence she conditions her fellow catgirls into loyal servants of her will regardless of the ways in which they are otherwise superior to her. They don’t even notice it’s happening, although how fast it happens depends on Willpower and Intimacies.

Weaknesses

Sociopath: She is a sociopath. For all the advantages in deception and reading people, she has terrible impulse control and much of what would otherwise be a prodigious willpower is devoted to keeping that in check. This is reflected in her current Willpower rating, but if her neurology were ever ‘corrected’ then she would likely increase to Zen.

Intimacies
Greater Tie: Myself (Vengeful Pride)
Lesser Tie: My Bodyguards (Pride in Ownership)

Lesser Cause: My Own Selfish Ambitions

Lesser Principle: “Always keep your promises - in my favor.”
Lesser Principle: “My belongings shall be purrfect.”
Lesser Principle: “Principles are stupid bullshit.”

Origin: Protector of all Cats everywhere. Slaughterer of man. There are many legends which the citizens of Nyasus idolize about their president, yet few hard facts are known about her. Only a scant few are allowed into her offices, fearful of kidnapping or assassination, and most have only seen her on the telescreens in thier houses and from a distance at the great annual festival celebrating Nyasus’s independence from foreign oppression. Despite this distance, she is more than loved-she is worshipped. There is not, and there never has been, a cat whom would dare to speak anything except the highest praises of.

Big Sister protects. Big Sister knows best. Big Sister shall lead Nyasus through the great struggle against the Gardeners and tear their fetid crops up by the roots. Nyasus now, Nyasus forever!

3
Areas / The Land of Forever Fall
« on: January 03, 2021, 10:07:43 PM »
The Land of Forever Fall

Nestled deep in the heart of the Mountains is a mystical land where leaves are always the vibrant hues of autumn. Its borders are wooded foothills, it's walls the endless peaks, and scarcely does it know the harsh touch of frost or fire. A softly rolling valley of green provides abundance for all who settle there, fed by the ashes of the burning mountains to the west. Sparkling lakes and rivers reflect sun and moon to cast even the humblest stone in a shade of beauty. Famine, plague, and poverty are merely foreign affairs, their presence a momentary intrusion. These are the blessings of the Highborne - the magical rulers of the land, which they call Endien.

The People

Said rulers are long-lived, with elegant features and pointed ears, possessed of wit and wisdom the like which foreign men might never know. They move in all things with grace, and maintain such a degree of casual athleticism that softness is almost fetching in its exoticism. The Highborne dress in finery fitting for a court, or a battlefield, in hues of sapphire and violet. They expend their centuries in the pursuit of culture, knowledge, or prowess. They hunt, and ride horses, and politick. Their children learn to sing, or play at least one instrument, as a rule. The noble houses sustain the sacred bloodlines of the Firstborn, and rule with swords and instruments in hand to protect their people and earn the favor of the royal family.

The commoners of Endien are closer to earth in means and manner, yet still possessed of an ineffable charm of their own. They live, if not as long as the Highborne, then still longer than ordinary men. Their ears, if not as long and sharp, still taper to a point. They dress finely, but simply, with primary colors dominating an assortment of outfits for work and leisure. Their labors are enabled by the many blessings of magic, fine tools of finer metals, and land all too easily cultivated by the hands of those who keep to the old ways. This leaves the commoners with time to spare for other entertainments, and each has at least one hobby of interest to themselves or their neighbors.

To see the homes of Endien’s people is to know their ways - all curved lines, white stone, and expert yet archaic design, with distance between them for gardens or workshops. Differences in size and space, rather than quality, demonstrate status. The ancestral homes of the Highborne are traditionally the largest, and even when not so distinguished from their neighbors might be recognized for the stability of their means and markings across multiple commoner generations. Commoners aspire to such affluence, but do not often allow the search to consume their lives. Modern technology is unheard of here, and yet the workmanship of Endien’s artisans is enough to make a contemporary craftsman cry.

A small, isolated minority of pure humans, the Lowborne, dwell at the threshold of these lands. They are descendants of criminals and outcasts from long ago who were forbidden to mix their blood with that of the noble Highborne. These people have found a place for themselves as itinerant merchants, seasonal farmhands, and rangers who scout the mountain borders. The last of these, the Mistwalkers, are the subject of tales of terrific and taboo romance by the intrepid, sinister rumors of treachery by the fearful, and parables from the mouths of the elders who yet live to remember their heroism in times of trouble.

The Politics

In earlier years the Highborne ruled as aristocratic landowners, absolute in their power, over a short-lived Lowborne underclass. This changed faster perhaps than the ruling class of the time would have liked when scions of their great and noble families found much to admire in those fleeting beings they ruled, and took them first into their beds and then into their hearts. Their children, strange liminal creatures between High and Low, were split into branch families of the nobility whose numbers swelled within but a single generation once the taboo was broken. In time the only Lowborne remaining were those who’d been cast out from society’s protection, and the hybrid commoners known to Endien today demanded representation within their own lands as more than mere clients of their Highborne ancestors.

Today the Land of Forever Fall is ruled by a federation of Houses centered around a monarch from the Royal House of Endien. Each of these Houses is made of two groups: The original Highborne bloodlines who founded them, and the populations of commoners who affiliate themselves politically and economically with them today. By preference, people tend to purchase goods from members of their House, to marry people affiliated with their House, and to deal more fairly and honestly with their House kin than with outsiders. Each House has claim to lands and resources traditionally apportioned to them in ages past, and compete with one another over access to everything else by any means but murder. The traditional role of the Royal House is to moderate the competitions and disputes of the other Houses, serving as an arbiter in times of peace and a commander in times of war.

Leadership among the Houses is ostensibly decided by merit. The finest at arms, the keenest of thinkers, the cleverest merchants and craftsmen, people whose words stir their neighbors to action - all of these things technically make a leader who can join their House Council. Traditionally, a majority of Councilors are those with the talent for magic - a talent that is found most strongly and consistently among the Highborne whose children learn the sacred songs from their youth, and far less so among commoners who often lack the education and time. This too is seen among the Royal House, an exception to tradition already by making leadership a matter of heredity, where the crown princess spends centuries mastering the sacred arts of her bloodline in order to live up to the power and responsibilities of her title.

This is a land with many traditions held to by virtue of long memories and a sense of righteousness. These traditions are taken for granted in the way basic laws are in other lands - the minimum quality of one’s wares, the precautions one takes with their own safety, the traits one looks for in a partner, the length of time a proper courtship lasts (between 5 to 10 years, of course). True laws are the sole province of the presiding monarch, to be contested only by unanimous agreement of the Houses, and a new one has not been passed in over a thousand years. They are simple things with no exceptions: Do not kill your neighbors. Do not take from them the ability to work. Do not treat with sinful sorceries save to seal them. Do not force, by sword or spell, another thinking being to labor for you. Times where these laws are broken are dark ones indeed - worse so those where they are repealed.

The Warfare

The Land of Forever Fall is always wary of falling before its many enemies. From the mists come a variety of exotic and terrible creatures who would ravage their homes and devour their families, some unique and others the first example of a malevolent new species. This would be bad enough on its own, but not enough to justify the extensive degree of militarization the people of Endien are accustomed to. That particular tradition emerged from generations of border conflicts and even outright invasions from the monstrous inhabitants of the Land of Neverending Night - orcs and goblins and worse beside.

Every able-bodied citizen of Endien and its Houses has basic training in simple forms of fighting through the means of archery, swordsmanship, and spear fighting. Every family has at least enough bows for its adult members, and perhaps a set of light armor and a spear and short sword. They are taught from a young age in their spare time how to move in formation and take instruction from superiors. A mixture of exceptional craftsmanship and magical assistance from the Highborne or a gifted common Mage allows their weapons to strike with force comparable to modern infantry weapons - their arrows with the speed of a firearm. They are expected to answer the call to arms for their neighbors, for their House, for the Royal Family.

Most Houses also maintain a pair of elite Orders devoted respectively to a particular form of fighting, and a specific area of magic. The Orders of War are Endien’s only permanent military force, commoners and Highborne alike spending from decades to centuries devoted to the practice of their craft. The Orders of Magic are devoted to furthering and preserving the use of a particular field of magical study, and are predominantly Highborne. Together their skills serve to hold fast against the monsters of the mountains in times of peace, and to reinforce the citizen militias called in times of strife.

The Mistwalkers of the Lowborn present in times of trouble as an irregular force, striking the enemies of order from directions none else may. In peace, their skills are put to use gathering news of threats, collecting plant and animal samples from within the mists, and slaying monsters long before the Highborne recognize them. They spend much of their effort honing mountaineering and medicinal abilities which allow them to endure exceptional lengths of time in the presence of the Mountains’ Mantle. They have thus mobility which no other force in the Western Mountains possesses.

Endien is largely impregnable to conventional invasions through all but a handful of routes. The vastness of the Great Western Mountains protects them to the north and south. Anyone attempting to approach by land from these directions may only do so in at most small groups from these directions, and then only through supernal skills of navigation and magical assistance. Only one path allows for the exit or entry of larger forces to the west and east - the former toward the burning mountains and the Lands of Neverending Night, and the latter toward the greater Nexus as a whole. Both paths are narrow mountain passes defended by a series of gates and fortresses, each protected by spells from one of the Houses and staffed by a mixture of their people and volunteers from the Royal House. There are four such checkpoints in total, two to each pass, one for each of the Houses. A fifth exists at the center of Endien - this is the land’s walled capital, which has in turn surrounds the mystical Star Tower which has been home to the monarch’s noble line for thousands of years.

Historically, invasions have never occurred from the Eastern ``Path of Dawn.” The fortifications along that path are intended more as a final line of defense by the people of Endien to protect the rest of the Nexus from the vengeance of their ancestral enemies. The rare visitor from beyond will typically find themselves cautiously welcomed unless their intentions are obviously malign. Conversely, every few Highborne generations seem to find themselves drawn into open war with the monsters from the burning mountains beyond the Western “Path of Dusk.” Hordes of orcs, goblins, and more terrible things still pour forth from the ash, throwing themselves against the outward facing defenses in numbers beyond counting. In quieter times the gates serve as waystations for expeditions into the Land of Neverending Night to seek lost relics, trade with the Smallfolk in the hills, or cull the belligerent locals.

The Houses

Each of the four main Houses represents a distinct subculture within the Land of Forever Fall. They possess unique traditions, refine a particular martial art to perfection, and hold in harmony two of the eight basic elements of magic. The fifth house is the Royal House, keepers of the purest magical arts, and they bear the name of the land of Endien. They have been the dominant political and economic forces throughout Endien’s long history, and are as follows.

House Aurë. They have a perhaps undeserved reputation for being worldly, for their lands are the closest to the mysterious world beyond the Path of Dawn. They weave fanciful tales of forgotten lands, the horrors they allegedly contain, and the great heroes who cast them down. Not all of their knowledge is whimsical nonsense, because it is they who know best the ways of curses, dark creatures, and how to harness and contain both. Were they any less subtle their reputations might be a fair bit more sinister. Their mages create melodies of Shadow and Light, to bind fearsome and deceptive powers to a proper cause, and cast them out when they have overstayed their welcome. They produce the finest rangers of the realm, renowned for near perfect aim, incredible feats of woodsmanship, and an arsenal of magical arrows.

House Cálë. It would be natural to believe the citizens of House Cálë to be a somber lot - they surround themselves with the oldest growth in all the land, living amid reminders of the youth of even the Highborne compared to the natural history of the world. Their sacred Everwood is a place where the restless spirits of Endien gather until they are ready to pass beyond the mountains, unable to speak save to those who can match their silent songs. And yet they seem all too eager to take their responsibility as a call to joy, as much healers as they are harbingers of death’s peace and wisdom. Their mages create melodies of Spirit and Life, to call upon the knowledge of those who have passed, and to prevent that fate for just a little while longer. To witness their warriors in action is to stare down the power of the eldest beasts, and their riders.

House Húro. The builders and dreamers of Land of Forever Fall, the example of professional and intellectual quality to which others aspire. Their astrologers read the fates in the stars to warn their fellows of danger, while their mathematicians design architectural marvels of exceptional complexity and beauty. Their forges produce some of the greatest weapons of this age. For them the bounty of land and sky is abundant, ash and rain turning them into a competitor for breadbasket of Endien. Their mages create melodies of Heaven and Earth, to call forth the power found above and below for the building of wonders. Their finest fight in the ‘heaviest’ mithril armors, and carry shining golden halberds that can cleave through steel.

House Saiwa. The fierce defenders of tradition. If any of the Houses can be said to value most strongly the traditional values of Endien it is the Saiwa, who are said to be quick to correct and even quicker to accuse. However, it is for this same reason that they are among the most political of the Houses, with even commoners taking a keen interest in the affairs of governance and intrigue. Their mages create melodies of Fire and Water, for they are the instruments with which civilization is maintained. Their finest fight with flowing finesse and burning bravery, wielding imperishable magic swords almost as tall as they are with the skill to deflect arrows in midair.

House Endien. The Royal House, the founders of the Land of Forever Fall who have held to their duty to protect and guide for thousands of years. Aside from the Highborne ruling family themselves, they are made up of both the commoner descendants of royalty and their most exceptional servants. They are all encouraged to aid the other Houses in their duties in any way they can, and they go largely unresented for their efforts at this. Their mages weave together the other eight melodies of magic into a sacred symphony of Harmony, sorcery’s true form purified of all Dissonance. They are the archmages of the Highborne, and the few from outside House Endien who achieve similar heights are granted honorary membership as well. The martial arts are not neglected, but the royal family have shunned their ancestors’ brutal ways after the Darkening, and so they do not contribute a unique combat tradition to their people.

The Melodies of Magic

Light and Shadow. Life and Spirit. Heaven and Earth. Fire and Water. These are the forces around which the chaos of Dawn coalesced, allowing the Fourth Age to rise from the bitterness and spite of those which came before. Each of these forces, known to the Highborne as Melodies, may be harnessed by the skilled and learned to perform great feats of magic. The Highborne, and gifted commoners, learn from a young age to use the arts of music and instrumentation to harness at least one Melody, and even those who do not go on to make a study of magic integrate its basics into their daily lives and careers. The greatest of spellcasters grow beyond the need to weave their music for others to hear, summoning all but the mightiest symphonies of power in their hearts alone.

Light is the Melody of Banishing, that which draws down sun and stars to cast out that which does not belong in this world. Those who call on Light find that creating illumination where there is none is the simplest and most meager of its abilities, something even children can accomplish with a simple tune. Proper magicians can turn simple light into blinding rays, or into a comforting glow that flows into the hearts of others and lift them up similarly to Intimacies. They learn to weave wards against hostile intentions to protect themselves from peril. In the hands of a master every note and gesture radiates purifying energy that brings great harm to beings of inherent wickedness such as devils or the walking dead.

Shadow is the Melody of Binding, that which anchors the senses in the echoes of the darkness before the Fourth Age. Children who learn to harness the power of Shadow learn not to fear the night, for they learn to see through it and name its denizens. Proper magicians can dim all but the greatest lights, twist the senses with lies, and fill the hearts of others with despair all too similar to failing an Intimacy. They conjure curses and horrors from out of nightmares so that their enemies are torn apart - or at least given cause to run away.

Life is the Melody of Beginnings, that which gives us the chance to experience the Fourth Age in all its splendor. Children who learn songs of Life do so for reasons simple and concrete - to free themselves and their friends of minor scrapes and bruises. The true magicians of Life sing limbs back into place, disease out from bodies, and food from the soil. In battle they are some of the most fearsome of all, their songs turning to fury at the notion of anything threatening their charges and calling that which dwells below to surge forth to crush all danger.

Spirit is the Melody of Passing, that which gives us a chance to come to terms with a simple truth - all Ages come to an end, and for some sooner than others. Children who learn songs of Spirit do so because they do not want to let go of what they’ve lost - because they still want to hear the songs of cherished pets and ancestors. True magicians of Spirit keep listening, drawn to the wisdom of the lost and away from immature longings for eternity. In battle they channel the skills of the departed, and call forth the energies of passing in great bolts and fields of withering cold.

Heaven is the Melody of Skies, that which displays the glory of the Fourth Age from above. Children who learn songs of Heaven cast their eyes upward, learning to call down soft rains and gentle breezes from the firmament to give comfort to their days. Magicians of Heaven are far more impressive, both conjuring and banishing weather of all kinds and giving speed to their fellows by keeping the wind at their backs. In battle they call forth the essence of the sky to strike fast, turning simple storms into raging maelstroms of lightning and terror. The most esoteric and lofty of songs instead call to the less obvious gifts of the sky - the powers of prediction.

Earth is the Melody of Shaping, that which provides for the works of those for whom the Fourth Age was meant. Children who learn songs of Earth revel in rocks and soil, in glass and metal, and worry their parents to death as they shape these things into simple crafts and tools - or undermine the foundations of their houses. Magicians of Earth may part the earth, or call it together, bid it rise or fall, and change it from one form to another. In battle they use these abilities to create weapons of great power, and to control the terrain in ways their foes cannot readily escape.

Fire is the Melody of Renewal, that which seared away the Third Age to make way for the Fourth. Children who learn songs of Fire learn quickly that it is not a toy to play with, for its beauty comes with a terrible danger. Magicians of Fire learn not to burn in the face of this heat, and to direct its destructive power against the world around them. It is a stereotype to say that the Melody of Fire is the most combative of all, but one that is well earned - all good work that Fire has wrought has done so through destruction.

Water is the Melody of Decay, that which will one day wear away all that came before it - but until then, it gives life and beauty to all. Children learn songs of water because they are thirsty, because they enjoy watching it flow, or because they cannot stand filth. Magicians of Water understand that it is not so benevolent a force as something merely to admire, to drink, or to use to clean - but that it rots away at all works when left to settle. Their songs keep the Water flowing, call it forth from the slightest moisture, and send it to wear away at the mountain that is their foes’ defenses.

Most magicians only learn one Melody over the course of their lives, learning its songs and working wonders with it. Exceptional sorts, usually Highborne with long lives to spare for it, will learn to call forth two Melodies - always those that oppose it in the standard pairing system. It is the providence of the Royal House of Endien, and perhaps a few other prodigies of an era, to learn the secrets of weaving all Melodies in Harmony. These Highweavers, the masters of Harmony, learn to do all of the above, and in doing so discover the secrets that underlie magic itself - and thus, the means with which to unweave it.

The way of the Highweavers is difficult, the work of many lifetimes, and yet it is not the only path to ultimate power over magic. A forbidden art exists in the Land of Night of which the Highborne dare not speak, corrupting the Melodies of Magic without ever truly bothering to understand their meaning. This Dissonance is a quick path, a thing born of cruelty and hatred, a cancer one accepts into their soul - the bitterness and spite of previous Ages seeking to unravel the fabric of the Fourth. More of it, we dare not speak of here save to say this - its might suffices that the Dark Lord Yaru derives his title from it.

People, Places and Objects of Interest

The Bright Forge was created by House Húro to serve in the place of the mythic Black Forge, lost to their people with the fall of the burning mountains to darkness in ages past. It is one part enormous concert hall for the Earthshapers of the Húro to beat the drums of making, one part celestial orrery to see the heavens’ influence on their designs, and one part an access point to the last safely available ember of volcanic heat for working magically resistant materials. To reach the central chamber is to pass through endlessly echoing corridors lit by the glow of sun, moon and star and guarded by rank after rank of silent soldiers armed with the products of their charges’ labor. Anyone who witnesses this place’s beauty can recognize the skill of its keepers - and any with such skill would find no fault at all in the offered facilities.

Castle Town is the only true urban development in Endien, and it is magnificent. Set atop a great hill surrounded by an open grassland plain, it is well defensible even before one discusses the brilliantly rounded white walls that ascend in layers to defend it. Members of all Houses make their homes in its splendid townhouses, and share the products of their unique subcultures - food, items, and songs. The streets are filled with music, and thus with the magic of the Highborne. It's stores usually contain provisions for a year at siege, and its native families own weapons and armor enough for every adult to arm themselves. It surrounds the royal Star Tower, which extends deep down into the hill and ascends from its summit to rival small mountains in height. It is so named for the constellation of magical crystals which orbit its upper levels, filling the sky of the surrounding plains with wondrous light and sound on even the darkest nights. Only the most terrible magics, weapons of mass destruction, or internal sabotage could pierce the defenses of the Tower.

The Hero’s Blade is perhaps one of the greatest items of power in the entire world. Once every thousand years this seemingly simple sword is drawn from its pedestal and surges with the power to destroy all evil. Responding only to one who seeks to wield it in defense of the world’s people, with no motives of conquest or superiority, and only then in times of greatest need, the Hero’s Blade is renowned among the Land of Forever Fall for its many fine traits: Its imperishability, its ability to sense wicked intent, and its brilliant gleam in the heart of night. Perhaps the greatest of its powers are these: its flawless ability to pierce the defenses of all who harbor darkness in their hearts, and banish wicked intruders from the world with a single cut. With the passing of each wielder the blade returns to its pedestal to rest so that it might be renewed for the next great trial. For now it slumbers, silent and still, waiting for the new Chosen Hero.

The Garden of Heroes honors those who stood, sacred sword in hand, against the forces of evil in each passing age. At once somber and majestic, the garden stands at the heart of the the Everwood and seemingly grows with every thousand years without truly displacing a single blade of grass beyond its original grounds. Each hero stands tall, silent, content in the fulfillment of their ancient duty. At the center stands one statue, desolate and alone, with a single crack down the middle - the First Hero, his name unspoken, who stood with the great champions from the Dawn of the Fourth Age until his fall.

Queen Nushala has ruled House Endien, and the Land of Forever Fall, for almost a thousand years. An archmage of incredible wisdom and wondrous power, she has already led her people through one great invasion by the forces of the Dark Lord Yaru and seen to his sealing for another age. However, the weight of rule has been heavy upon her shoulders, soon it will be time for her eldest Highborne daughter, Lirazel, to take the throne by tradition. Yet she seems determined to cling to her reign, and her life, for as long as possible and to delay for just another year the inevitable failure of the seal.

4
Areas / Albion
« on: August 24, 2020, 02:39:46 AM »
Albion

An island from which man ruled the sea, once. Dockyards the size of cities maintained an armada that could overcome any opposition, outcompeting anyone who sought a piece of trade along the southern coasts or up the rivers. The riches of a thousand districts flowed to the shores of Albion in its cargo holds, and distant lands paid fealty to its goddess: Britannia, She of Waves. It was a time of glory for all who bowed to her magnificence.

That time has passed. The Albion of today is a shadow cast over the heavens, a place of competition turned inward rather than outward while its people lose faith in all that made them great. The armadas of yesteryear are no more, unable to match the might of mainland economies of scale. The sea has become a place of horror, and only the waters around Albion itself yield to their fracturing will. Britannia sits alone on her throne, weary with age as songs of prayer fade one by one from her ears.

Twilight has come to the people of Albion, and they cannot even see it.

Politics

Albion is officially controlled by a constitutional monarchy, whose sole representative is the goddess Britannia, reduced to a physical form by the steady decline of her people’s faith in her power. While still a formidable force in a face to face encounter the people have had enough leverage to push through a constitution limiting her to a role that is largely ceremonial. The day to day governing of the district is overseen by a parliament that is a mix of hereditary seats and political party appointments. Over the course of time representation has begun to skew more to the latter as the great and noble merchant houses die out one by one. Divine interference in politics is viewed with suspicion, rather than joy, by those most benefitting from this new status quo.

Culture and Demographics

This district feeds on a foul mixture of nostalgia and misplaced blame. The stereotypical Albioner takes pride in their impressive naval traditions, blames a combination of ‘sea monsters’ and ‘foreign interference’ for the downfall of both them and their district’s place of prominence, and refuses to recognize their own role in the decline of the many blessings which enabled the former and protected them from the latter. They view citizens of other districts with condescension and bitterness, and insist that they would be better off without them. They may even go so far as to say their nation has been reduced to poverty and anarchy as a result of their alien influences.

The reality is a little different than that. Albion is still a safe, stable place to live relative to many other places in the Nexus. Its people have food, shelter, and basic healthcare on a reliable basis. Its coast guard can overcome almost any threat that tends to come its way. Its police are effective, but not overly cruel. It has a supernatural defender who would die to defend it despite the fact that almost half of her citizens don’t even believe in her divinity anymore. Longing for the past has limited their ability to appreciate their present.

The economy is driven by a mixture of services provided for and by their own citizens, the fishing industry, and a number of old shipbuilding businesses that have managed to stay afloat despite Albion’s reduced prominence. Other industries abound, but these are the ones people talk about the most. Of course, their cuisine can be a bit of an acquired taste…

Most citizens of Albion are human. Many of them have distant faerie ancestry, the result of generations of sailors taking on alluring amphibious brides in the days the seas were calmer. Non-humans aren’t explicitly discriminated against, but often will receive strange looks the first time they visit any given part of the district. They may end up being hit on.

While the Church of Albion is still nominally the district’s official religion, more and more people have been driven from their faith in the face of hardship, rather than toward it. This can be attributed in part to the death of Britannia’s oldest avatar generations ago in a great battle against the most terrifying crew of pirates the Nexus has ever seen. Mortality ill suits the faithful, and the power vacuum that followed also saw the rise of secular influences who undermined belief in the goddess in her time of weakness for their own benefit. Still, a stubborn core of believers made of both old traditionalists and sympathetic youngsters remain.

Magic used to feature quite prominently in their society, and modern translations of old sea shanties still echo with remnants of power few still know how to harness. It is one of the lost splendors of Albion - much like its self-respect.

Landmarks

Albion’s capital, Brittany, is a tarnished jewel upon the seas. Its ports welcome ships from all along the southern shores of the Nexus. The Palace of Waves, seat of Britannia’s royal authority, glimmers on the horizon as if to say ‘come, behold the city of our world.’ Once the initial impression fades what truly remains is a sense of awe for the sheer size of the docks. Despite the lapse in profitable shipping over the years they remain almost entirely intact relative to their glory days. Each year the Church of Albion makes a concerted effort to keep beautiful the first vision visitors receive of their once-mighty nation. Gazing upon it from her balcony, visible from the water, is one of the few things that puts a true smile on Britannia’s face.







Britannia



Physical Attributes

Strength: Fantastic

Agility: Heroic

Durability: Fantastic

Magic: None

Magic Resistance: Very High

Willpower: Determinator

Other Abilities
Britannian Stoicism: To know the love of Britannia is to know the love of the parent - the single earner who breaks her back to provide for you, who puts on the strong face so you are never hurt by her pain. Those who pray to her share in a shadow of that strength, experiencing increases to their Willpower which help them endure their day to day hardships when they might otherwise falter and fail. The more devoutly they believe, the more of her strength they share until they realize it has become their own. The increase is by one rank per level of their Intimacy toward her, with most of her active and involved church members having lesser intimacies.

Divine Admiral: She of Waves. In the realm of all things nautical there is no better to be found than Britannia, and give her one good crew and a decent ship and she can likely find a way to sink a fleet come hell or high water. She can keep a vessel together against everything short of complete disintegration, preventing it from taking on water or faltering because the wind was against its sails. She can invigorate its crew and protect them from the ravages of long voyages, and extend this to any crew that declares for her name.

A Sailor’s Sailor: Gunslinging, sword swinging, cannons and all, there is no respectable form of fighting which Britannia cannot masterfully manage. A death of a thousand cuts, or bullets, is all too readily a reality for those who thought themselves a threat. In addition to her excellence in a fight she can give form to all manner of swords and firearms that can at least compete with her Strength rating in damage output, calling them forth from her worshipers’ dreams of wars long past.

The Sun Never Sets: There was a time when a sailor’s death on the waves was but a break from their duty to the glory of Albion. Britannia in her prime could call forth from the depths the wrecks of all who’d sailed beneath her flag, and project her loving memory of their fervent spirits to have them take up their ropes and raise their anchors one last time. Those days have long since passed, but she can still invoke this ability at a price. Britannia could, in theory, sacrifice her body to bring forth the Endless Armada one last time. Should her people keep her in their hearts and memories then one day, years later, she could be born again in glory.

If only.

Intimacies
Greater Intimacy: The People of Albion (Devotion)
Lesser Intimacy: Belfast (Self-Loathing)

Avatars
Once, Britannia was a holy spirit pure in presence. She could not appear in person to her followers, so vast and glorious was her greatness. Instead she acted upon the world through her faithful, through miracles worked through them in her name, and through a series of divine sub-selves who were expressions of her personality and desires at least on the level of her current body. Those days are passed, and the only avatar she can sustain is the one her diminished self uses to act upon the world now.

But one still endures, negligent in her duties to hearth and home and sustained by the will of another. Were it within Britannia’s power she would hunt this being down, strip her of flesh and bone, and reclaim from her every scrap of divine essence to stave off her own inevitable decline just a few years longer. It is not yet within her power… personally.

5
Areas / Xibalba
« on: May 11, 2019, 10:58:16 PM »
Xibalba

The Image

"A kingdom is like a large house... where everyone lives together. As family." ~ The Chancellor’s Eulogy.

Xibalba is a seemingly strange place of many mysteries and wonders. Its streets and halls that warp and twist in mind-bending manners, households and structures rotate, float, and merge, all of it made of black and white stones. They almost make it seem like a demented game of chess.

But if one treads with care, courage and a clear mind, he will find in the hearth of the district that it is in fact a place as odd as it is beautiful, and the more you sink inside the more the beauty becomes apparent. From majestic elven structures, to the streets, to the many facilities generously opened up for its citizens… one could call it a paradise for its people. For indeed, the joyous life of its citizens did not begin until Xibalba’s heart beat its first time, aided by the gentle ruling hand of the Queen and her loyal chancellor. And not a single resident denies the fact that this place was their blessing.

They are happy, truly peaceful and joyous, and their sole wish is to keep living in peace and happiness. And in its center, the tower of Sur Carys rises from the earth, and is built upon by the workers even to this day. Some even think that it will eventually reach the heavens.

The Reality

Xibalba is a realm of darkness and delusion. The original populace have been replaced by shadowy simulacra who ably imitate the motions of daily life. Their average and ordinary homes squat beneath looming half-finished walls of black and white stone, and behind them their true lifeless forms silently labor. Day and night they work to build the twisted abodes of an immortal aristocracy not yet in residence, all of them arranged in an incoherent pattern around a central point.

At night the spirits of the dead and damned haunt battlements dusty with the residue of fresh construction, footprints left behind the only sign of their passing. The wailing of banshees echoes through empty corridors, filling them with a song meant for no living soul. They await their new, pointy-eared masters to come and fill them.

The tower Sur Carys rises up from the center of the citadel, its ancient walls of basalt and marble presenting an elegant facade to the world in a display of classical elven architecture. Here the ruler of this place, the Black Queen Serana, oversees the construction process. It is only a matter of time before her siren call begins to pull those of her chosen master race to this place so they might take their place in glory as her subjects.

The Citizens

Shadows from an old world formed nests inside the former citizen’s skins. Now, they wear their faces and dance awaiting the new. These dark organisms are clusters from an alien energy source from another dimension, dark because their very nature is obfuscating, and they do not possess emotions or a will of their own. Since they lack a proper soul and their very essence is a void, or a negative, sensing them through supernatural means is difficult, and one should not be surprised to have one greet you from behind before you even noticed. They are basically guided by ancient magic into acting out as automatons, and act out just like the original humans would have, even replicating some of their memories. The truth is, the line between truth and fiction is blurred, and they genuinely act as if they were the real deal.

The Tower

Serana has always been nobility, and so even in death she rules all she surveys from above. Though her grand palace and sprawling capital city are lost to her, the central tower from which she ruled her terrible empire remains. It contains the lion’s share of Serana’s thousands of years of magical research, and is defended by magical barriers as strong as she can possibly make them. Only sustained artillery barrages can hope to crack its walls, and they lash out in return with dark curses equivalent to cannon fire. Finally, she may perceive around and within it, and cast her magic therein, without being physically present.

(Jointly written with Francobull3)

6
Areas / First District
« on: April 01, 2019, 07:23:36 PM »
The First District
Meant more in the sense of ‘First Among Equals’ rather than a statement of historical precedent, the First District is the center of inter-district politics in the Nexus. It is here that the majority of the city’s judicial infrastructure can be found. Legal officials from various districts work here to negotiate extradition of their citizens after they are taken into custody in another district. So too is it considered traditional to try individuals who have committed crimes affecting multiple districts in this place. An archive of all court records and population data is maintained by a veritable army of clerks in a set of old brick warehouses set aside for the purpose of holding it, but it is far from anything approaching complete.

It is also here that many of the city’s largest corporations maintain their municipal infrastructure. The city’s largest internet provider has its headquarters here in the supposed interest of maintaining net neutrality. Much of the electricity and water that the city relies upon flows out from here under the protection of a joint task force combining the law enforcement assets of multiple Chiefs. Nobody wants their district to be held hostage by resource shortages, and it is simply not feasible for many of them to do it all themselves. Thus, this cooperation continues into the foreseeable future.

These are uses for the district that developed over time. Its true purpose is much simpler: providing a meeting space for the District Chiefs to hash out land claims and negotiate reparations and treaties that affect more than two districts. The level of officiousness and spectacle involved depends entirely on the Chiefs in question, but on those occasions the proceedings are made public almost nobody shows up anyway.

The Geography

Most prominent of all features in the First District a natural one, the Great Divide. This enormous river right through the middle of the entirety of the known Nexus, but in this one place it instead splits in two. The border of the First District is defined by the presence of the river’s split, as each of the Great Divide’s children wrap around it in a near perfect circle. At the opposite end of the split the river joins back into one current, continuing on its way. Old stone bridges reinforced by magical runes stretch across the watery borders of the district to permit land entry to the east and west.

Most buildings in the First District show their age. While the interiors have been renovated multiple times over the years to account for technological advancement, their exterior facades continue to project the image of a classical East Asian capital district with its peaked roofs and its elegant extended-family homes. The entire thing is overlooked by a skyscraper-sized pagoda from which the District Chief and his staff govern in the name of the Council of Chiefs.

Opposite the Chief’s pagoda is the Nexus’ largest tea house, where he holds meetings with the other District Chiefs regarding matters of state. Also, where he drinks tea.

The People
A stereotypical inhabitant of the First District lives with their entire extended family in a sprawling single-story home with a wall around it. They come from long lines of civil servants with extensive educations at the district’s Academy of Administration, and wear glasses due to long nights reading and writing in dim lighting. None of them are up to date with current fashions from the rest of the Nexus, and they look down their noses at those who don’t wear ‘appropriate’ attire.

Reality has been conforming to this generalization increasingly less with each generation. Children are leaving the district to make their fortunes elsewhere, and outsiders with less traditional education are moving into corporate housing within the district to work in its new power plants and water treatment centers. District regulations mandate that all industrial buildings make themselves as innocuous as possible and so go mostly unnoticed, but any native can tell where they are by following the foreigners.

Calls by government officials to lessen the influx of outsiders into the district have fallen deaf on the ears of the Chief, who is determined to maintain the First District’s economic and administrative relevance in the face of an increasingly complicated Nexus. It is the only way, he says, for stability to endure in this city. This has made him surprisingly popular among foreigners and younger residents.

Military Capability

Officially, the First District has no military force. They are "devoted to peace and order" and "find it unnecessary to threaten the sovereignty of lawfully acknowledged districts by maintaining a standing army." Unofficially, defense is organized beneath the Circle of Six, the most prominent of the First Chief's students to remain in his service. Each is a master martial artist in their own right, and they instruct dozens of disciples of descending levels of combat capability. They are relatively few in number, but their sheer might is sufficient to ward off all but the most audacious and incautious of threats. In the worst case scenario Chief Yamada can step in personally, although nobody with an ordinary human lifespan remembers a time where this was necessary.

The First Chief

Name: Yamada

Race: Human

Age: Multi-Millennial

Height: 6’

Weight: 190lbs

Appearance


Physical Attributes (Ki Enhancement) [Martial Supremacy]

Strength: Fantastic (Heroic) [Legendary]

Agility: Fantastic (Heroic) [Legendary]

Durability: Fantastic (Heroic) [Legendary]

Willpower: Determinator

Magic Resistance: High (Very High) [Extremely High]

Other Abilities
Chi Enhancement: The limitations of the human body mean little to a true master of the martial arts. By drawing upon the energies found within the human soul and using them to draw upon the energies found in the environment all boundaries can be broken. Yamada and his disciples use this power to enhance their physical abilities, ward themselves against magical power, and extend their lifespans seemingly indefinitely. His base attributes reflect his passive use of Chi Enhancement with every living breath.

Ki Enhancement: As a martial artist begins to hone their abilities they learn to do more with their own innate power, too. By unlocking his soul’s potential Yamada can add his own internal energies to those he draws from the environment and increase his physical stats and his magic resistance by one rank. During this time his muscles expand and his body begins to release inhuman amounts of heat.

Killing Intent: It is rare that Chief Yamada has cause to actually fight someone. Most upstarts can be put in their place by simply imposing upon them his desire for their death. Only individuals of tremendous fighting prowess or willpower can resist the urge to flee. At its worst people have been brought helplessly to their knees, or even had heart attacks and died from the force of his hostility.

Martial Supremacy: True mastery of the martial arts is to bring harmony between Ki and Chi and unite them as one perfect whole. The world and the self become one. In this state his attributes and magic resistance go up by another rank above simple Ki Enhancement.

Master of the Arts: Yamada is an ancient master of many arts. Calligraphy, dance, opera singing, painting, he does it all, but his greatest passion has always been the art of battle. There is no pre-industrial weapon with which he could not be considered a master by ordinary standards. His truest skill though is with his unarmed body, and combined with his great instincts for fighting he can overcome almost any foe with just his base stats.

Weakness
The Ravages of Time: Once, Yamada was a true arhat of the martial arts. Even the gods feared his might, but respected his wisdom. With his advanced age his body’s Ki has become unbalanced, and so he cannot maintain his great physical and spiritual might for long. While he can draw upon the world’s Chi in all moments without adverse effects, he needs to maintain focus in order to maintain Ki Enhancement. Going further into Martial Supremacy is something he can only maintain for close to a minute, and afterward is reduced to his base stats for several days as his exhausted body recovers.

Intimacies
Greater Cause: Protecting the Nexus

Greater Principle: "True strength comes from the self and world in harmony."

Greater Tie: My Students (Paternal Devotion)
Lesser Tie: Tea (Fanboy)
Lesser Tie: Old Enemies (Regret)

Origin: Yamada is many things - First Chief, martial arts master, tea aficionado, and civil administrator. He has never known defeat, but does not seek war. He has never had children of his own, but has been the grandfather of every citizen of the First District. His time has passed, and yet he has defined every era to follow by his vision. The Nexus is his charge, and he will not see it destroyed by the forces of disorder.

Little is known of Yamada’s origins. Fragmentary records dating back thousands of years speak of the Foundation Wars, when a cabal of sorcerers sought to escape the Nexus by harnessing its powers. The horrors that entered through the rifts formed in the aftermath threatened the prehistoric city’s very existence. Yamada apparently led the great heroes of the age against them, and aided the few sorcerers who remained in stabilizing the source of the rifts. Nobody is quite sure how he went from that to founding the system of districts that exist today.

He knows his time is short. He has a few centuries left in him, at most. A successor will one day be needed, but nobody is quite up to the task.

7
Areas / The Citadel of Sorcery
« on: March 23, 2019, 03:05:01 PM »
The Citadel of Sorcery

Long ago, in what at the time had been the center of the growing Nexus, a cabal of magic users from across the multiverse gathered together with one purpose. They had hoped to harness the many unique forms of magical energy their presence had brought to the Nexus in one place, to master all power within this strange dimension in which they had been imprisoned. Perhaps they had wished to become gods, or to free themselves from this place, but whatever it was they aimed to do it all went horribly wrong. All that remains is a massive hole in the ground, and the largest focal point of magical energy in the Nexus today.

A spiraling Omphalos rises up from the center of this massive crater, consisting of thousands of threads winding up to the sky. Each is a different form and color of mana. Here the sky is violet with crackling power, all normal weather patterns suspended. Around this center an assembly of towers have been constructed of a variety of materials, each surrounding it in circles of increasing height and distance from the center. The oldest and most prestigious towers directly surround the Omphalos, squat edifices of stone bathed in its titanic energies. Each subsequent circle of towers is taller and more numerous than the last, size and opulence compensating for lessening importance and access to the Omphalos.


At the edge of the crater where the rest of the Nexus begins again is a thick wall of enchanted glass, impervious to all but the most divine of spells and unbreakable by any force short of hours of constant artillery barrage. Only a series of gates equidistant from one another around the circumference of the wall present notable weak points, and these only relatively so. The tallest and most durable of towers extend up from just behind the wall, home to the most militant and least prestigious of the crater’s inhabitants. Visitors seeking to partake of the Omphalos’ seemingly infinite might must first prove themselves to these guardians, a task easier said than done.

Culture

The Citadel of Sorcery, as it’s now known, is home to a population of magical users numbering in the thousands - largest in the Nexus. Every tower is home to either an eclectic bunch of sorcerous squatters, or the headquarters of a magical society of varying size and potency. The line there is a little blurry, with old orders declining over time into hyper-competitive rabble while the squatters organize and start deciding on dress codes and fancy titles. The only true commonality between them is a dedication to the art, science, practice, or whatever of magic as their members know - and a thirst for easily accessible energy.

Toward the center are the most successful and powerful of the magical orders calling the Citadel their home. The unimpressive but sturdy towers they live in are full of wonders and horrors scarcely seen elsewhere, enabled by the Omphalos. Competition for positions within their ranks are fierce, and they prefer to train their own members from scratch rather than accept powerful outsiders who have their own ideas and the weight to push them. They keep to themselves.

Further out this become less the case, with various magical orders jockeying to attract the attention of outsiders to fill their ranks and give them an edge that might allow them to claim the coveted central towers. Politicking and productivity abound in these intermediate towers, each of them eager to prove themselves superior by showing off the fruits of their sorcery. This activity forms a cornerstone of the Citadel of Sorcery’s economy as enchanted items, unique lifeforms, and potent potions flow out to practitioners and wealthy people in other districts of the Nexus in exchange for everyday staple commodities.

It’s not all knowledge and and power here of course. A substantial underclass of non-magical people are bound through fear and contract to labor beneath the shadows of the towers for their sorcerous overlords. Some of them have lived in the Citadel for generations, and exposure to the abundant mana has produced various mutations that make many of these people unsuitable for everyday life in most other districts. Joining them are the multitude of homunculi, summoned beings, and custom creatures who allow for impossible feats of engineering. Some of them are even rented out to the neighbors. Non-magical immigrants are for this reason uncommon.

Politics

There are four tiers of magical orders to be found in the Citadel. The highest and most exclusive rule from the towers directly adjacent to the Omphalos and its great power, and prefer to focus on their research into harnessing its power. They produce wonders, and horrors, the like of which the other orders can scarcely dream of and leverage access to their products in exchange for all the raw materials and necessities they need to otherwise ignore the world around them. They rule no territory beyond the immediate defensible territory around their towers.

The most publicly known of the first tier orders are the Silver Seekers, an order of masked and robed alchemists who allegedly transfer their souls into golems after completing their apprenticeships. Those few who profess to have seen what they look like under it claim their bodies gleam with an outer coating of precious metals, and that their masters spend their days harnessing the vast might of the Omphalos as fuel for otherwise impossible acts of transmutation. Unique elements with properties not found in nature sometimes find their way into the hands of those who satisfy their eccentric demands.

The second tier consists of those orders who rule from intermediate towers are much more competitive and socially engaged. They maintain territories of varying size and productivity, turning raw materials into reagents and enchanted items and constructing “capacitors” for mana out of metal and stone. The means available to them begins with human and demihuman slaves and goes up to whatever the order can procure through their magic at the time.

Perhaps the most economically active of the second tier orders are the Scribes of Thoth. Known for their pure white linen robes, their shaved heads, and their Ibis headdresses, the Scribes have harnessed the magical power they claim is inherent in record keeping. By making exacting records of every transaction, every discovery, and every historical event they can they seek to perfect their understanding of the Scroll of Ages, a cosmic record containing all knowledge. There appears to be something to this theory, because through numerological examination of their records and the proper application of mana they can make forecasts of incredible accuracy regarding future events - especially economic ones. They are the go to for anyone looking to figure out which markets to break into, and when. Their ability to call upon the spirits of the dead and bend them to their will is pretty neat, too.

The third tier is made of the militant orders whose towers loom over the peak of the great wall surrounding the Citadel. They are both the most popular and most tedious of magicians, battle mages who specialize in blowing things up and enhancing their own physical abilities to ward off invaders. They also have a surprising aptitude for customs enforcement - if only in the form of opportunistic extortion.

An exception to the normal mold, the Sidereal Order seek to protect the Citadel of Sorcery by means of advanced divination. More a secret society of mystical intelligence operators than fire-crazy spellswords, the Sidereals are masters of scrying upon past and current events in order to perceive potential threats and investigate conflicts. Other orders are wary of them, as it is not unknown for the militant third tier orders to pull the occasional coup against a second tier one in hopes of gaining access to more mana and research materials. The Sidereal Order reassures its contemporaries that they are more interested in what lies beyond the Citadel’s walls than within.

The fourth tier consists of those magical orders, covens, and individuals who have either not yet acquired a tower of their own, or who have acquired a tower but have not yet secured their hold over it and the surrounding territories. The former are tolerated by the higher tier orders simply because the effort of removing them is too much, or because they can serve as useful test subjects. The latter are looked upon warily as potential rivals, and they see regular efforts to undermine their attempt to join a higher tier with their new acquisition.

Who is the Chief at the head of all this? Their representative is no ruler at all, in truth, but a construct forged from the heart of the Omphalos. None can claim with any credibility to be its creator, but the Keeper is essentially perfect for the job. It is a shapeshifting paragon of magical communication methods, able to poll representatives from the Citadel's constituent orders at any time on the rare occasions when diplomacy demands collective decision-making. It can withstand artillery fire unscathed, but is otherwise limited to the abilities of an exceptional mortal human. If the Keeper is destroyed, it will reform within the Omphalos within a month's time. In the absence of consensus it will default to whatever decisions will best preserve the Omphalos from total subjugation, and in fact it may well be playing the orders against each other to prevent any one group from having total control.

But that last one's just a conspiracy theory.

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