The Necropolis (OOC)

[mystic1110]

The Necropolis



The premise and rules are located on separate documents found on the Discord, this thread is, initially, for the applications for the starting districts. In that vein, below are the guidelines and rules in regards to creating a starting district.

District Generation

You must write a description of your starting District. Once this is approved by the GM, you may create your ruler and start play. A district description can be as detailed as you like but should include at minimum the following:

• Ruler - Who is your Ruler? What are they like? Rulers are presumably immortal, but they do not have to be. Time can work differently in each District, so one Player’s never aging ruler could be dealing with multiple generations of an extended family.
• Geography – how does your district look? A district could be as vast as your former empire was in life, or as small as a single city, the last holdout before your empire fell.
• People – who were your people when they once lived, who are they now in this shadowed limbo - how much of the Necropolis do they know? How does their government work? How do their daily lives look? As a bonus - perhaps some info on the people that your Empire once ruled as well?
• Diversion – Diversions are what gives your District motivation, energy and allows it to remain part of the necropolis rather than falling into Torpor. What game, theater, ritual, sport, or pastime defines your District.
• Conviction – Conviction is your District’s faith, religion, philosophy, belief system.

Once this is approved by the GM, you may create your ruler and start play.

Additionally, since your realm is in fact a shadow of an Empire, it doesn’t enter the necropolis empty handed.

• Roll a 1d3.

You will start the game with that many Units, and Mirth equal to 4 minus that roll (so rolling a 2 will grant you 2 units and 2 Mirth at game start).

In terms of what type of District a player may play, a player may consider an Empire that they previously played with in other Empire games, but fallen, degraded, lost. They can envision a new Empire reaching the height of its powers, only to be usurped. The Necropolis is a realm shorn of time, so any tech level is welcome, although Empires that have flown through the stars will find that technology in this land of shadows and candles is positively medieval, more grim magic than ecstatic science – although one could also imagine experiments in forbidden alchemy or maniacal research into lightning.

Ruler Generation

Rulers and Units in Empire die, but Rulers and Units in the Necropolis seemingly fade from existence. Whether one can return from death beyond death is unclear. Rulers start the game presumptively immortal. Whether there are successions are up to the player, but ALL new rulers, hereditary or otherwise roll for new stats as follows:

• roll 1d4 five times in the dice rolling thread, dropping the lowest roll and arranging the remaining results however you like
• then add +1 to any two different attributes.

Additionally, Players are free to keep using their same ruler and simply refresh their stats for upcoming rounds using the same above generation.

[SerakHawk]

Prayers of Sunset [POS]

District: The Fading Dusk "Hope flees beyond the horizon All ends, everything fades. Shadows extend their chilling grasp All ends, everything fades Day’s Glory from memory slips All ends, everything fades Honor’s flaws ruthlessly exposed All ends, everything fades These small remnants soon lost to Black All ends, everything fades" ~ A Prayer of Sunset Geography A glow from over the horizon suffuses the lands of the Fading Dusk in a permanent dull rust-orange coloration. The lands of unending dusk are broken up by a singular mountain shooting upward toward the light, its peak just barely hitting direct rays of the dying sun. The light of the peak hosts the palace of the Eternal Light. As the days, years and eons pass, the palace's shadow flows around the fields of Fading Dusk obscuring each segment in turn. Rust Red Buildings reach upward from the settlements built from the base of the mountain up the slope toward the peak all grasping for the fading light. The urban sprawl tapers into farmlands just beyond the mountain's base while the buildings rise taller and taller the higher up the face of the mountain they reach, each aiming for the light of the dying sun. As they approach the Palace of Eternal Light a cutoff is apparent with buildings growing shorter once more, capped in height to remain lower than the start of the Palace's roots. The Palace of Eternal Light is the home of the Twilight Sovereign, may their reign continue as dusk remains. The full force of the sun has caked its walls into an otherworldly colorless sheen. The External walls irradiate immense heat, almost scorching those who approach without using the access gates that avoid the direct glare of the dying sun. The interior of the Palace is in stark contrast to the dull-rust coloration of the external city of the Fading Dusk. Greens, golds, reds and violets splash in a diorama of opulence and decadence befitting the Eternal Ruler. While the urban sprawl is most evidenced by the myriad of buildings on top of the mountain reaching for the fading light, those who have rejected their hope instead dwell within the confines of the mountain home. Tunnels and pathways crawl and twist through the labyrinth of the deep with markets and vendors accost all who travel by. All diversions and distractions, vices and qualms can be found in the depths, if one knows where and how to look for them. The gaze of the fading sun does not pierce to these depths, and those who descend too deep are lost to any measure of sanity. People Remnants The Remnants of Dusk are a myriad of races and peoples, melded and mingled from eons past and into future unknown. Race or species had lost its meaning at the dying of the sun and the people have adapted to remnants. The populace is split into two main categories based on their outlook and where they live. The Hopeful are those who still reach for the dying sun's touch and wish to embrace what remnants of hope remain in these lands. They inhabit the top of the mountain and are most active as artisans and stewards maintaining what lands they can control and creating new mirth while it lasts. The Abandoned are those who have embraced the loss of the sun's life and dwell within the depths of the mountain itself, digging ever deeper into the roots of the darkness. Life has no meaning for the Abandoned and they have no attachments to the world of the living. Ruler The Eternal Twilight Sovereign has ruled the Prayers of Sunset since the sun died. Its Empire was formed to protect and guard the remnants of civilization in the wake of its death and the Sovereign was rumored to have made a compact to maintain the fading light and steer the course of the remnants until the end or a new beginning. Even the Twilight Sovereign is unsure of when they arrived in the Necropolis, perhaps beyond the end of all things everything lands here in 'death'. The Sovereign's descendants are integrated in the positions of power within the Sunset Court allowing the Sovereign to steer and rightfully command the Remnants of Dusk. None have seen the true face of the Sovereign, as they rest in the Eternal Light, the peak of the palace which receives the full light of the dying sun continually searing all others who approach. In rite of passage volunteering family members are offered to the Eternal Light to stoke the flames of the fading dusk, some return from the rite strengthened and empowered, but ever changed by the baptism of the Dying Light. Diversion The Night District contains all forms of exotic goods, brothels, hawkers, vendors and experiences for all who dare enter its depths and find some meaning within. Beware should you look to long or stare too hard that the depths catch a hold on you and abandon you from the dying sun. The remnants of the fading dusk delve into the maze like markets, bazaars and tunnels beneath the mountain taking from it what enjoyment can be provided from within. Parties, dances and brawls breakout spontaneously around musicians and bartenders plying their trade while others find amusement in watching the traffic travel the tunnels. The Night beckons to its children "Reject the allure of the dying sun" its shadows grasping outward "Come enjoy the Pleasures and Wonders of the Night" Remnants returning from the grasp of the Night District find respite from memories that haunt as what is unburdened in the Night District remains. Conviction The Dying Light believes in the eventual entropy of all things and the end of heat, light and life. While they don't condone the Twilight Sovereign for their compact to extend the eventual heat death of the realm they believe the eventual end of the dying sun is foretold and inescapable making the Twilight Sovereigns attempt to forestall and remain a forgone conclusion and not worth scorn. Instead the followers of the Dying Light preach of the literal end and death of all things having come, so enjoy the pleasures of what remains while it lasts. Why put off what can be obtained now until tomorrow- tomorrow is likely the end of all things.

Twilight Sovereign Dis: 1 | For: 3 | Ent: 4 | Con: 1 Units: 2 Mirth: 2 Diversions: 1 Alters: 1 Lantern: 1 (lit)

[Stygian]

District: Hraesholm Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. Spoiler: Geography Show It exists. Spoiler: People Show The Synod is a remnant of a long-forgotten theocracy, whose people hailed from a diaspora of differing nations all united under one banner by might and unshakeable faith. Its detractors would have called them zealots. Yet, as a result of this "encouraged" blending, the peoples of Hraesholm are varied indeed. Most are humans of varying sizes and builds--though it is not at all uncommon to see some occasional animalistic traits--strange eyes, jagged teeth, and so on. To some theologians, this is considered a side effect of whatever curse brought Hraesholm to this place of eternal death--a manifestation of their greater sin. This is not a view publicly spoken, however--for those beholden to it often find themselves an enemy of the state. Other species and subspecies of humanoids do exist--and are provided little discrimination based on biology. They are Faithful. Others are Not. That is enough. Even the most gentle souls of Hraesholm have an inextinguishable competitive streak in some form or another. Those who lack the heart for the Hunt (see Diversion) often express their superiority in some other fashion--whether ambition, cunning, or a desire to prove their inexhaustible intellect. Many times, this leads to some manner of exploitative behavior--and even crime--but not always. Amusingly, though the rate of crime may be higher than some other districts, not everyone makes it long enough to be a repeat offender. Spoiler: Diversion Show For the faithful of the Synod, their only way to feel fulfilled--or indeed, whole at all, is to partake in the Hunt. For most citizenry, this can be as simple as stalking the imitations of living creatures that are constantly birthed from the penumbra. Sustaining their place in the natural order as apex predators is an instinctual drive for the people of Hraesholm--a way for one's soul to persist, and just as vital as food or water. It is not uncommon to see particularly arrogant hunters upping the ante as they become more jaded or numb to the pleasure of slaughter. Instead of prey, they will hunt lesser predators. Instead of hunting far afield, they will drive dangerous game through city streets to showcase their glory--all in the hopes of recapturing the high, like an addiction that can never fully be sated. The eldest members of society, then, are not pitied, but feared. What must they have done, and what willpower must they have to have subsisted for that long against the call of blood and oblivion? This addiction can come at a high cost. Those who are deemed a true danger to society (beyond all boasting, bragging, and casual, sometimes deserved violence) are brought before a conclave to be judged--and the mettle of their souls tested. Those who are found wanting will find an asphodel delivered to the doorstep of wherever they next rest their head--even if tried in abstentia. The judged then has until the next dawn to conclude any unfinished business and speak their farewells. After that time, the petitioner's body is forcibly transmogrified into the form of a beast. They are then tasked with fleeing to the penumbra, that they might leave Hraesholm entirely. Something about the magic ingrained in the ritual prevents any sort of headstart. The moment a petitioner leaves the boundaries of the inner district, the transformation occurs--even if they still have time remaining. It's theorized by some that the greater purpose of this loophole is not to make things harder for the victim--but to encourage them to slow down and visit the last vestiges of their humanity before being swept away by adrenaline and instinct. If the petitioner is able to escape alive, with their mind intact, their life is their own. It is unknown if any have ever survived the trek since the Synod was courted by the King of Wax and Wick--for none have ever been foolish enough to return, even if they had. Spoiler: Conviction Show May we become whole again.

The Synod of Savagery (SVG) Ruler: Placeholder the Mighty Dis 2 | For 5 | Ent 3 | Con 4 Units: 3 Mirth: 1 Ruler Stats Unit Count/Mirth

[Aedilred]

The Dying of the Light



Onende, the Silver Refuge


The Universal Qeyzer
Nendir the Eternal
Discretion 3
Force 4
Entertainment 2
Conviction 4

Spoiler: Summary

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Ruler: Nendir
Diversion: Kepyat
Units: 1
Mirth: 3

Spoiler: Ruler

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On seeing Nendir for the first time, seated on his throne, he resembles a colossal statue, though on approach he is little more than six feet tall. His skin is black as obsidian, his eyes somehow blacker still. There is an elfin cast to his features, with slightly almond eyes and pointed ears, and what on close examination is a slender frame, though there is something massive about him. The statue-like impression is reinforced by his stillness: in audiences he seems rarely to move, even to blink. When he does move, it is with deliberation and certainty of purpose. Those who have seen him in battle would observe that this tendency continues there: there are no superfluous moves, merely precise and terrible strikes.

Some say he is the son of the greatest hero of a dead world and of a fell sorceress. His people worship him as a god, the defiant light that holds the darkness at bay. Only Nendir himself and his closest associates know how true this is. It is by his strength of will that the District survives. While the people of the District worship the gods out of habit, he cleaves to the following of Sadukah and Jagonagir with a private fervour that borders on the desperate. There is no Great Fire to preserve and protect: there is only him. Nendir alone stands between his District and the abyss.

It remains to be seen whether there is anything he will not do for the sake of his people and his District.

Spoiler: Geography

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The core of the district is what resembles a huge ship, a cathedral the size of a city, fallen from the sky and, breaking its back on the valley walls burst open to reveal a host of smaller buildings. Making one’s way down through the valley, one finds that these smaller buildings are often themselves the size of palaces.

It is none of these that is likely to arrest the traveller’s first impression, however. All colour has been drained from the district. The light is in places harsh, glaring a bright white from marble and plaster almost painful to the eye, casting shadows of the deepest black, where it seems no light could ever penetrate, and in other places soft, rippling on a silk dress or velvet curtain - but never does it impart any colour.

After passing through the Gates of the Martiya, the traveller presses onwards towards the spires of the central district, along boulevards and through winding alleys, surrounded all the while by high arched walls and colonnades, here and there passing into a plaza, often with six sides surrounding a fountain or decorative feature. These plazas and the features they contain may have fallen into ruin, covered in debris from damaged or collapsed buildings nearby, but the inhabitants seem to pay this no mind. Where space permits, a shrine or statue may appear by the side of the road. Some of these are obviously venerated, with fresh offerings and candles, while others are neglected; statues may have limbs broken off, or even everything above the knee. If the traveller can decipher the monumental script on the bases, the traveller might even be able to discern some of the names of these entities.

A map of the district (not that any exist) would chart various quarters: Lamadyr, Roan, Avali… but many of these would pass without distinction to the traveller. If the unwary trespass into Essera they might regret it, but visual distinctiveness between most quarters has been lost with the increasing dilapidation across the district as a whole.

As they approach the city’s core, they may be able to make out, in the same monumental script, the letters, forty feet high, high on the face of the buildings above them to their left: S--N-D--R: any others to fill the gaps long since lost to time. Turning right immediately here will bring one to the University Quarter, whose students may even still make a token effort to mix scholarship with their habitual debauchery. As one enters the cleft in the core, to the right is Lagassa, marked by its impossibly tall spires, many of which retain the ancient beauty said to once have made men weep. Assuming they do not turn to their left into the royal quarter so marked and seek an audience with Nendir himself, they will pass on between the two halves of the great edifice, where the valley walls seem to close in, spires reaching on either side what seems like miles upwards, until finally they emerge beyond, to where the dense buildings give way to a gentle slope down to a seafront.

To the right is Farbenza, the more glamorous quarter, although like all the city apparently fallen on hard times, where palaces cling to the valley walls above a delicate marina full of sailing vessels of all shapes and sizes. To the left is the rougher and more interesting quarter, the Beach of Whores, which despite its name is far more than a beach and is perhaps the largest quarter in the city as a whole (by land area, if not by actual living space). Here can be found almost all that a person could desire, and much that they never thought to.

Spoiler: People

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The majority of the people of the district appear very similar to humans, albeit their ears are pointed and at home their skin might sometimes be assumed to be somewhat blotchy. They may refer to themselves as “elves” or “onende” but do not seem to give a great amount of consideration to the fact. A distinction might be observed between the people of the city proper and those who live in the forested hinterland in the valley walls upriver, who tend to be larger and bulkier, but this seems to matter nothing to the people themselves. Should they ever venture into a district where light sources provide actual colour, however, the reason for their blotchiness will become immediately apparent and their resemblance to humans will fade, for their skin is brightly coloured, in greens, blues, purples, reds - rarely outright black (although such is not unheard of). They tend to be sparingly clothed, but what clothes they do wear somehow rarely clash with their skin tones, a mystery that perhaps only they could explain, if they cared to.

The second group are the goblins. They stand around four to five feet tall at the maximum, and have the prominent ears, bulbous nose and large eyes one might expect of a goblinoid people. As time has gone on, they have tended to form the district’s creative core, and produce the bulk of its entertainment output in some form or other.



Harpies inhabit the spires of Lagassa and the Yerkir, the “harpy quarter” (although people of all kinds live there) on the upper reaches of the valley slopes. In the lower-lying quarters occasionally a structure like a large dovecote might be seen on the roof, indicating that the building was at one time, even if not presently, a harpy residence. The harpies are one of the more energetic groups in the district, and being almost exclusively carnivorous, have a tendency to cause problems when their boredom or desire for new experiences leads them to attack other residents for food. Rumours of illegal goblin hunts conducted by harpies never quite goes away.

The remainder are the Free People, a cosmopolitan human group which has over time absorbed various smaller populations, be they from outlying colonies, refugees or groups not large enough to sustain themselves in the city, and which has formed a sort of identity of its own, one largely reflected in the character of their quarter - the Beach of Whores. If someone is looking to lose themselves, whether for safety from a pursuer or merely in leisure, the Free People will always accept newcomers.

Spoiler: Diversion

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All manner of sports, games and entertainment are available within the city, from sailing races to fighting pits to gambling dens, but the most distinctive, and popular, such diversion is the game of Kepyat. It is a bat-and-ball game which in its “pure” form takes several days to play, and draws large crowds who can immerse themselves in the contest and thus stave off tedium for almost a week at a time. (Those who claim the game is itself tedious have no culture or taste, and are moreover doomed in the world of the Necropolis, for they will struggle to find anything else to occupy their attention for so long so unproductively).

While the sport is played at all levels, the highest and most popular is the quarterly championship, decided between teams from each of the fourteen eligible quarters (Essera never submits a team) in a league format.

Some time ago, an enterprising individual endeavoured to “make the game more exciting” and “broaden its appeal to foreigners” by dramatically shortening it and changing many of the rules. He was able to put on one demonstration game of this new version - the “Fivescore” - before anyone stopped him, after which he was flayed alive in Tempest Plaza and then beaten to death with Kepyat sticks. It was an occasion which drew a larger crowd than the exhibition match had itself, and one that people still talk about to cheer each other up.

Spoiler: Conviction

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There are forty-two gods followed in the District, organised according to the sixfold elemental nature of the universe, and the product of millennia of accretion and syncretism from and of various belief structures, with lesser gods folded into major ones, portfolios overlapping or falling by the wayside, and all the internal consistency that that implies.

The gods are:

• Nendir, Defier of the Dark, god of light
• Asurah, the Ambassador of Morning, the Morningstar
• Larutir, the Silver Spear, god of courage
• Nanah, She Who Endures, goddess of the Moon
• Elarendeh, the Illumination of Heaven, the Evenstar
• Sabukah, She Who Watches in the Night, god of hope and the Sun
• Dinarah, the Silver Coin, goddess of prosperity
• Alyssa, She Who Reigns with Her Left and Rules with Her Right, goddess of night
• Nepireh, the Dark Sister, goddess of the Moon
• Lembal, god of the wilderness
• Susinir, god of judgement
• Nabir, god of wisdom
• Alkabir, god of prophecy
• Nisu, god of scholarship
• Arursha, goddess of the World
• Zeminur, god of earth
• Ninurtir, Lord of the Near and Nigh, god of law
• Renadra, Who Sees in the Shadow, goddess of music
• Chera, goddess of dance
• Essun, goddess of family
• Laimah, goddess of marriage
• Nanumir, the Divine Stallion, god of the ocean
• Abazir, god of springs and water sources
• Napatir, god of rivers and streams
• Varunal, the Slayer, god of violent and undeserved death
• Hathal, the Horned Serpent, god of storms
• Lumisand, the Wyrm Below, god of life and chaos
• Alkam, the Ravager, god of warfare and destruction
• Therzir, the Divine Twin, god of the people
• Zithir, the Divine Twin, god of the people
• Sasha, goddess of fertility
• Amblika, the Spider, goddess of protection
• Sharamayah, She Who Weeps, goddess of mercy and compassion
• Rendinir, the Huntsman, god of hunting and archery
• Turanda, goddess of love
• Jaburah, goddess of the Underworld
• Lelaneh, goddess of death
• Yamaneh, Guardian of the Underworld
• Jenehuntir, guide of souls to the Underworld
• Nanshah, goddess of justice
• Jagonagir, the Fire That Died
• Targizir, god of the ancestors

The principal god in day-to-day life is Nendir, but within the palace are huge private shrines to Jagonagir and Sabukah, who Nendir himself considers the deities of primary importance to the survival of the District.

[Torv]

0-RION - Realm of Endless Night
WIP

The Overseer
Discretion - 5
Force - 2
Entertainment - 3
Conviction - 5
Units - 3
Mirth - 1

Spoiler: Geography

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Entering the penumbra is as though walking through the night sky itself. Distant specks of light give of a cold ambiance without shadows, for there is nothing they can land on. Up, down, left, and right seemingly lose their grasp on reality as all references float away, yet the empty stars always feel like solid ground beneath. Should you manage to meet someone in the outer layers of the void chances are they will walk on a different plane, perhaps upside down to yours. Try not to think about it or you may lose yours and begin to fall.

Trudging on “forwards” long enough through the sky will inevitably lead to 0-RION. Approaching from above one will see an outer rim of dense metal with thin spokes leading towards a shattered core of debris. Entering the sphere of the behemoth's influence reaserts directions and many find themselves being pulled towards the center. Living in 0-RION is to constantly struggle outwards, away from the core.

Inside the metallic walls energy seems to have taken on a life of its own, as lights follow along the inhabitants, turning off behind them and doors open on their own whim. Despite being circular from afar everything seems to be at right angles once inside, the simple wheel no longer relatable but incomprehensibly large.

Spoiler: People

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Once the crown jewel of a galaxy 0-RION was the first to be built and last to fall. The projections had been clear for a few revolutions when the environmental core came under attack and disintegrated. At first everything went suffocatingly dark but then the lights turned on and life resumed.
Only this time something was different. There was no environmental control, yet they could breathe. There was no power supply yet the lights turned on, sometimes on their own whim, as if leading the way. Engineers tried their best to repair what they could, only to realize nothing should work and yet it did. Curious they tried to exit only to find unknown stars and all their gear shutting down beyond the walls of home. A home that pulled them back.

Everyone has called the megastructure home at some point, quadrupeds, bipedals, even fish, yet most remain distinctly humanoid in shape and size. There might be an extra arm or two, hair moving on its own will, gills, and much much more. If it’s the result of engineered interbreeding between races, once trending bodymods turned genetic, or the latest accident is anyone's game to guess but a human heritage still manages to shine through. Since hindrances like breathing and staying warm have become something of non issues, clothing tends to focus more on making a statement, rather than covering skin.

After its fall life became a slog as 0-RION provided warm food, pleasant living quarters, and adequate entertainment areas at np charge. Slowly billions turned to millions and millions began to dwindle down towards thousands as people lost their will to wake up and continue moving in endless steel halls.

But with every death the pull grew stronger towards the core, until some started putting mattresses on the former walls, now floors to sleep better. Then someone braved the void and jumped from a broken spoke into the minefield of metallic debris of the environmental control.

Spoiler: Diversion and the Overseer

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The first jumped out into space towards the core’s familiar pull and promptly got impaled on a stray piece of ventilation. For the first time in a very long time the onlookers felt something other than contentment - shock, excitement, anticipation.
From one bored individual rose a tide of fools, each with their own reason to join the Core-Chase.
The rules were simple, start with nothing but shoddy clothes and get to the middle. Try not to die or get lost in space as your momentum goes on beyond the horizon to somewhere other than 0-RION’s penumbra. So far only one has survived the challenge. The debris becomes too dense for sight to pierce far before the pull stops, concealing the winner, but everyone can feel his will subtly influence their everyday life. A flickering light there, a closed door, lost documents for renovations, and new drafts for weapons none remember making.

He rules from within the walls and to defy him is to see doors close in your face, steps crumbling below your feet, and your food either being frozen or burnt to a crisp. The Overseer knows all and to be of 0-RION is to cower in his shadow, yet constantly feel the pull to replace him.

Spoiler: Society

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Daily life is centered around the enclaves. With the population being a fraction of its intended density there is no lack of space, but there is a lack of excellent living quarters. Sometimes halls in disrepair can stretch for miles before the next inhabited section, save the odd outcast. The enclaves are as varied as their members, some are democracies, others dictatorships, monarchies, and meritocracies among others. Some try to fix 0-RION, others are roving bands of looters or evangelists. They share but two rules - Respect the Overseer’s omens and no wars between enclaves, technically part of the first rule.

Spoiler: Conviction - EmoTech

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No technology functions in 0-RION without the inhabitants having an intrinsic understanding of its components, that is to say nothing should function. Yet it does because that understanding does not need to make sense, just be there. The light turns on because the core wishes it to be so, doors close because the overseer is mad.
To believe is to make it true, to disagree to make it lesser. EmoTech thus seeks to make everyone agree on how technology works to make it so. Debates are shunned, accept the dogma. Your food becomes hot if you throw it in the box, turn the dial to the max and hit it once in impatience to distribute the heat evenly. No further questions allowed.

Spoiler: Outsiders and leaving the Realm

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0-RION tends to attract visitors with its many unique and convenient inventions. There is however the issue of outsiders questioning why miracles seem to be a daily occurrence in the metallic city and not anywhere else. Such questions are better left as thoughts, or an Emo-Core evangelist might suddenly give you the honor of participating in the next chase. Attendance is mandatory, death or embracing truth the only accepted conclusion .
On the contrary natives rarely leave the pull of home. All but the most steadfast conveniences from thousands upon thousands years of invention begin to break down beyond the metallic confines and none last outside the penumbra. Going back to savagery is for many worse than withering away in complacency. If it is not part of a Core-Chase, suffering in squalor is something the savages of other Realms can do on their own.

Losers, those that both fail to die and reach the center while Core-Chasing are 0-RION’s most trusted zealots. Flung out of its penumbra they end up in odd places with no choice but to preach of their home in hope to find it again and return in splendor or bear their new epithet to an unfortunate demise.

[Lleban]

[CENTER]fifteen hundred

Spoiler: The District

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Halfway along the Pearl River, Uxmal is the ancient capital of the Holy Xykothian Empire taking up over two-thirds of the district. Uxmal was founded Twenty-Five hundred years ago as a center for imperial administration that sprouted into a labyrinthine expanse of crimson clay buildings, impossible walls, and great pyramids. The bricks and terracotta of crimson clay are interrupted by the yellowed ivory of obelisks and overgrown temples. Uxamal's sprawl is bound by 3 great walls resting against the raging torrent of the Pearl River. Each wall is inset with a precious metal depicting religious iconography. Statues of saints, soldiers, and exarchs loom above the wall's parapets like metallic gargoyles frozen in poses of triumph over enemies real and imagined.

Outside the Bronze Wall is a hive of slums that have expanded via tethered boats on the river like a tumor. While the river may try to cure itself with the occasional flooding the bamboo anthills and lashed boats always return to clog the waterways in a twisted respiration. The residents of these slums consist of the ritually unclean, the damned who can't pay holy tithe. Originally this was the purpose of the Bronze Ring but population expansion pushed most of the vagrants, unclean, and fishermen out of the city walls. Some fled to escape the vampiric inquisitions but those too expanded their reach.

In the current era, The Bronze Ring is the realm of artisans, soldiers, and the petite aristocracy who desire to have a presence in the capital. The slaves of the more important aristocratic families also reside here. Despite the higher affluence, the crimson clay of the ring is slow to change and slower to rebuild. A traveler will stumble and find streets and apartments charred black from fires long past. Entire blocks remain abandoned after the invasion of the Cinder Queen. The remains of wooden palisades and alchemical weaponry dot lots that once were vibrant marketplaces. The contorted iron machines of an invasion long past give many areas a unique hostile architecture. Still, the people who call this area home take great pride in their ring, even to the point of violently evicting the ritually unclean foolish enough to try and claim even the most charred neighborhoods.

The Silver Ring is where the most powerful families reside. Old blood flows through the streets lined with great vistas lined with dozens of imperious statues per block. Inside the great vistas are a collection of libraries, vaults, and gardens each owned by the families, all of whom have been thoroughly vampirized. The scars of battle come not from historical invasions but from the remains of palace coups. Here the losers are hung up in great cages on the rim of the golden wall where they eventually die of exposure.

Surrounded by the golden ring is the Great Pyramid of Uxmal. A 500ft tall step pyramid dominates most of the district. Surrounding are the once-grand remains of the emperor's palace. Years and Military coups have destroyed most of the compound. The remainder has been hastily converted into barracks for General Toyollo's elite guard. Here the General and his retinue hedonistically dine on the empire's riches. Arcane scrolls were reduced to napkins, crown jewels crushed into powder. Expensive inks used to light lanterns, the blood of slaves dyes once purple robes distressing rust. Since the generals took over, the fortifications of the Golden Wall have been amplified manyfold. Trebuchets and ballistas line the walls, while stores of alchemical fire have been placed under the gates. Defenses barely used against the Cinder Queen's invasion were vital to ending the bread riots that inaugurate military rule.

Spoiler: People

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The Icoatzin average height is estimated to be 5'5 for women and 5'10 for men. Most have relatively lanky body types with a diverse array of skin tones that range from tan to cinnabar. Icoatzin civilization is built on the banks of the Pearl River. here they grew corn, squash, onions, and soybeans. The district dwellers represent much of the artisanal class. Specialized workers, regional aristocracy, merchants, and military men make up the district's free population.

Most Icoatzin speak Coatli, a language native to the region. For most of the dynastic period, pictographs were used, and the written form of the tongue. However, centuries of conquest and mercantile influence have supplanted the traditional script. Now Avakonian is the dominant script outside of the priestly castes. While this has increased literacy beyond that of the priests, many historians now frown that the sacred language has been diluted by mercantile. Some of this represents a nostalgic pinning for a pure era. However, this whining represents the material threats an ascending merchant class has against traditional priests and aristocrats.

Society- Coatl society is very hierarchical, and can be divided into five classes. In order of importance, the classes are priesthood, warriors, land owners, artisans, merchants, and slaves. Children of all classes are educated by their parents and priesthood until the age of 14. Once they are evaluated by their local priest, the results will show whether the child has the opportunity to change their class. Children who run afoul of the priesthood, unclaimed, or otherwise dishonored usually become slaves. The priesthood examination is the main form of social mobility for the lower classes.

• Roles of each class
• Priesthood- Run the bureaucracy of the state, this includes collecting taxes from landowners, foreign relations, and creating laws. The Council of Hierophants represents the 15 most powerful priests, second in power only to The Rightly Guided themselves. draft most of Coatl's laws. The priesthood also regulates magic's use in the region. In recent history, the Council has become the subject of increasing military policing on both a political and ideological front. Record numbers of priests have been flayed, burned, and sacrificed for heresy.
• Landowners- Landowners own most of the arable land in Coatl. Most of their duties revolve around collecting tribute from slaves, protecting their land, and enforcing the laws of the priesthood. Landowners also are the beating heart of the vampire community. Despite its foreign origins, the power vampirism provides insulates them from slave rebellion while guaranteeing spots among the warrior class.
• Warriors- The one class you cannot be born into, most warriors consist of the sons of landowners and priests. From a young age, warriors are trained in traditional martial arts, clubs, spears, and bows. Adulthood is signified by official war paint, placed on the face and back. Those with potential are officially inducted by a vampire patron. New vampires join various factions who gamble for material control of the districts in ever-widening schemes.
• Artisans- Consists of weavers, blacksmiths, tanners etc. Most artisans are protected by landowners due to their specialized labor. While protection does limit the artisan's exposure to political violence, these specialized workers are still vulnerable to enslavement depending on the fortunes of their patrons. Though the slavery of an artisan resembles a debt slavery
  more than the cattle slavery of the peasantry. However, some, like Tanners are seen as lower than slaves due to the ritually unclean nature of their labor.
• Slaves- Those who work the fields are considered property of the state. Slaves are not allowed to leave their villages without official permission. Slaves have few rights and are often moved to certain lands to suit the whims of the state. Slaves must both pay tribute to the landowners and submit a certain amount of time per year for labor.
  
  

Spoiler: Ruler

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The Veiled General Toyollo VII. Once the sun of a teacher the boy was forced to take back arms against the Cinder Queen and her Dragonforged. In the apocalyptic battle, he was forced from the slum's edge to the gates of the Silver Ring. The boy fought until he was deep in blood. Forced to trudge through a canal of bodies the boy found little in the way of respite before he was burned by the queen's breath. In a baptism of fire and blood, the nameless boy was born again. Forced to become a vampire to survive, even the necrotic powers of blood magic were unable to reverse the Queens brand. Despite his terrifying disfigurement, the nameless vampire had an uncanny charisma and extreme viciousness that allowed him to rally veterans and disgruntled landowners against the theocratic exarch. The militia's who followed the Veiled one gained power in the shadows. Friends were gifted with slaves and vampire sorcery while those who stood up faced assassination and armed expropriation. When the Exarch died without an heir not even the Heirophants had the manpower to stop the vampire's coup. Not even their blood sorcery could spare the imperial palace from a brutal sacking. Now The General rules with an iron fist as the military has started to co-opt and infiltrate the priesthood itself. Using the power of Xykothos to legitimize his coup.

Mirth 3
Units 1
Diplomacy 4
Military 2
Economy 2
Faith 4
Intrigue 3

Spoiler: Diversion

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In Uxmal the main diversions are religious festivals...which often climax into state-sponsored sacrifice. Of course, there are competitive sports, and the dramatic arts. But the most popular diversion in Uxmal is gladiatorial combat versus creatures warped with blood magic. These spectacles of might and magic are events that draw in thousands in both official and black market capacities.

Spoiler: Conviction

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(Coatl Perijanism): The people of Coatl, the Icoatzin, once worshiped many gods. However, as time passed on the Iconography of the Serpent eating its tail would gain prominence. The Serpent god Xykothos would eventually be placed in the Perijani pantheon consolidating the domains of Trodje and Khompur. Xykothos was able to be inserted into the Perijani pantheon due to his worshiping style being fairly similar to the rest of the pantheon with an emphasis on sacrifice.


Tenants - Xykothos is the serpent that embodies creation.

• Xykothos is and emanates from all things.
• Xykothos rejects the separation, mystical and material, sin and virtue, order and chaos. All is one and one is all with Xykothos, which is frequently represented by a snake devouring its own tail.
• As the serpent continuously eats its own tail, all things are cyclical. Time and space are viewed cyclically, if somethings happened before it'll happen again. Most importantly life and death are cyclical in nature, as such the belief in reincarnation is prevalent among the faithful. Essentially every action has an equal reaction.
• All life is part of the cycle of nature, it's up to believers to keep the cycle in balance.
• The cycles must be kept in balance, for example the chaos of nature must be kept in balance by the order of society. Those who force too much order on the chaos of nature will suffer. Ex. Irrigating and farming too much land will cause the soil to stop yielding crops. Using magic to bring extra rain may lead to droughts later.
• Giving to the cycle means the cycle will give back. Ex. Sacrificing some of your crops to ensure the health of the rest of your fields.
• Rumor has it that those who respect the balance get reincarnated as spirits or higher beings, while those abuse the balance return to the soil.

Magic attitude- To use magic requires taking from the cycle of nature. Because of this, the use of magic requires sacrifice to function. Within Coatl, to become an official magi, one studies the mysteries of the faith for an extended period. Once they're ready they need to pass a trial. After the pass, they need to set up their own ascension ritual which gives them access to the mystical arts. Said ritual usually involves the sacrifice of a slave or precious personal property. Magi are preachers but, mainly serve the state as a career, usually, they'll assist medium-sized settlements in helping to manage the church and help with infrastructure projects/charity/ food assistance.

[Ausar]

Awaken, Aurelius

"Master!"
Aurelius' eyes shot open, hands tightening on the flight controls before him. From his cockpit it looked as if every star in the sky had winked out for a moment. The distorted voice in his ears barked again.
"Oh Master it is you!"
There was a star in the sky once more. Just one. And it was getting... closer? No. No star. A light. Blinding. He frowned, blinked, and thumbed his own landing lights. The approaching light dimmed a little as the deep crimson starfighter that bore it flipped and burnt, slowing to a halt above his own battered craft. He could see the other pilot waving at him. He waved back. Was that-
"First familiar sight I've seen in days, Master. Well, first anything I've seen, really. I thought you were dead, you know. Come to think of it, I thought I-"
"We are, Marius." There was a thudding in Aurelius' temples that seemed to subside all at once as the thought came to him. "We are dead."
"Not quite yet, old boy." A cream starfighter streaked with gaudy yellow trim screamed past them, engines silently whining. "Glad I found you both, before you could do anything stupid. Fighters have been drifting in at quite a rate this last while. Some fools get to shooting each other before we can get to them." Aurelius frowned. He knew that voice.
"Jorus, is that-"
"Of course it is, old boy, but vacuum's no place to tarry and chit-chat. Fire up those thrusters and follow me. We've nearly got the whole Officer Corps back together now, you know." Jorus' ever-faintly-mocking drawl faltered for a moment. "It's- I- Aurelius, it's good to see you." The habitually unflappable Officer cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was as sardonic as ever. "Do try to keep up now, my dear ancient friends." Marius sputtered.
"I'm younger than you, you stone-skulled-" His voice became a brief yelp as Aurelius fired up his fighter and flipped it about, as near as stripping paint from Marius' craft's nose. Aurelius grinned.
"Younger or not, you're still stationary my friend." There was no reply, but the crimson warbird spooled up its thrusters and streaked after the pair up ahead, heading for the last vestige of a dying Dominion.

The Final Frontier

(Original: https://www.deviantart.com/naradjou1...anet-785623366)

Ruler: Aurelius Marten Vox, Master of the Twilight.

Spoiler: Geography

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The Final Frontier is a facsimile of Hallion, the small, rocky, mined-out waterless lump that housed in its time the beating heart of the Dawnstar Dominion's power - the Naval Academy. Now this last vestige of the heart of the Dawn is fading, crumbling, slowly collapsing into the cold dark of surrounding space. Perpetually a stream of substance flows off the freezing rock, and yet at present, it seems not to wane in size. Frozen in its final moments, Hallion is wormed through with tunnels that house the ruins of the 'Academy, the staging ground for the shadows of the dead to plot their last raging against the death of the Dawn.

Spoiler: Geography

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The people of the Final Frontier are shadows of the Dasari, a people of the stars, pilots and engineers and navigators and marines who sought to expand their dominion wheresoever a star's light could reach. Now their starships are eternally fixed in the moment before their destruction, their bodies murky replicas of their own in the seconds before their deaths. The only people who seem to have passed on into the Necropolis are pilots, but such was the only rank of note in the Dominion before its fall in any case. They dwell in their habitual quarters in the 'Academy's decrepit tunnels, meeting as they ever did in mess halls and council rooms, drinking from empty cups, scraping bare plates clean. Sanity, or at the very least their sense of self, is maintained in the mundane routine, the order that their military lives made innate. Their ships still fly patrols and training exercises around the Frontier, they still account the passage of time by the hours that seem to have passed. But they only seem. Days blend into weeks into months into interminable ages in the Final Frontier. Those that find themselves embroiled in a training accident typically find themselves waking up in their old beds the next morning meal. There is but one new rule in the Frontier - never turn your weapon on a fellow Starfleet member in anger. For those slain by their fellows impassioned never awake again.

Spoiler: Diversion

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The Dasari maintain a custom that seems eternally novel, being as it was introduced in the old Dominion after the lives of most of the inhabitants of the Frontier had shuffled off the mortal coil - gravracing. It is only once a month that another material planetoid appears in Hallion's orbit - Laria Prime. Festooned with canyons, craters, spires, molten rivers and searing lakes, the planetoid is devoid of life, but not of joy. For here the remnants of Starfleet have one day to cobble together gravcraft, and one night to race them, before the whole fades into the starless sky like dust into air.

Spoiler: Conviction

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The Dasari followed, in their heyday, the Way of the Illuminated Mind, a series of tenets defining the relationship between state and citizen. A honed form of these tenets still guides these last vestiges in their forlorn hope.
The Master and Officers have this duty: to safeguard and preserve the ratings.
The ratings have this duty: to serve and obey their Officers.
All have this duty: never to give their unlife in vain.

[JBarca]

Tisaer, the Calling Tower

Spoiler: Tisaer - Geography

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Tisaer looks now as it felt in its waning days - lifeless. Shattered rocks lie in tumbled heaps atop an ocean of thick gray sands. The skeletal stains of long-dead lichen crust the tops of boulders, while flakes of ancient, bone-dry mud sit in recesses as of yet unfiled by sand. In shifting rocks, one might find the desiccated, crumbling remains of some beast from the early days or a rusty tool, so ancient its purpose can only be guessed at.

Where stones were long-ago rolled away to create space for living, a fine coating of dust sits undisturbed by life or wind or rain. Near the borders of Tisaer, one might quickly find evidence of life - shivered swords, splintered shields, crushed helms. The bones of beasts of war, engines of destruction, and hangers-on lie strewn across the landscape.

At the center of Tisaer, surrounded by hundreds of miles of nothing, stands the Calling Tower. A massive, bone-white structure supported by a rippling, contorting mass of insectoid stilts, the Calling Tower is at once palace of the Unstained Prince, redoubt when the Obscene Ones fail, and font of corrupting power. It looms over the collapsed city of Tis, with arms across the top floors casting an imposing silhouette in the district’s permanent twilight. The Calling Tower is so named because all who spend more than a few moments in Tisaer feel its pull. It takes a powerful force of will, or an ingrained obedience to another power, to resist. The Tisaeans, thus, cluster around the tower in shelters cobbled together of rock and the detritus of generations past.

Spoiler: The Tisaeans

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There are exactly three classes of people in Tisaer.

By far the most numerous class is the citizenry. A citizen of Tisaer is a person who eats, sleeps, works, loves, and dies in the shadow of the Calling Tower. They are human, with a tendency toward thin, colorless hair; pale, loose skin; and large eyes. The citizenry are, of course, loyal to the Tower and its devices, though they did not, and can not, choose this for themselves.

At the height of Tisaer, most citizens that were not directly involved in providing necessities - food, clothing, shelter - worked in mines or quarries or were stone carvers, masons, and jewelers. If it came from below, the citizens were masters of manipulating it. Tisaeans produced the finest sculptures, the most intricately shaped gems, and the strongest bridges. They dug deep, pulling from the earth the raw materials to power an empire. Their metallurgists, though not as superb as their stone workers, were more than capable. The armies that marched forth from Tis were clad in bronze and steel and mithril, bearing weapons of the same, gleaming in the sun of distant lands.

The second most numerous class in Tisaer is the Nineteen. These knights are the right hand of the Prince, singular in power and influence. They bore many names in many eras among the citizenry, themselves, and their enemies: The Obscene Ones, the Siphons, Knights of the Tower, the Chained Swords, the White Host, the Blazing Steel, and more. Each wore glorious armor in their heyday, and provided protection when the realm needed its defenders. When the Prince needed new lands to excavate, the Nineteen led armies across the border. When armies were headed by a member of the White Host, they were said to be unbeatable. Such was their strength, their arcane gifts, and their elan, no foe could stand before them and no follower would dare shirk their duties.

The Siphons gain their power from the Tower, and the Prince within. So long as he commands the Nineteen, they are shackled to his will and drink freely from the font of his fastness.

Finally, standing alone above all others, untouchable in his domain and unreachable in his tower, the Unstained Prince rules the Calling Tower and Tisaer around it.

Spoiler: The Unstained Prince

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The Prince has ruled Tisae for countless years from his seat in the Calling Tower. His provenance, the source of his abilities, even his name are lost to history. No one is quite sure, either, whether it is his own power that draws the minds and bodies of all who enter his domain or if the Tower itself is the source, for he is never without.

The Prince himself, though, is a mighty binder. When the miners broke into a vein of pure, roiling corruption, it was the Prince that bound this torpid flow into his Tower. The Nineteen took on a new role with this new wellspring, serving to absorb the bleed of the Prince’s binding. All twenty individuals grew in power with reckless speed, but only the Prince, the Unstained Lord, remained pure. The knights grew twisted, gnarled, misshapen with the Prince skimming off the pure energy for himself.

Now, the Prince sits in his perfect marble palace. As the seat of his government pulls resources into itself to create an army to protect its lands, so too does the Prince pull corruption from the earth, protecting his citizenry, and siphons it into his Chained Swords to protect all of Tisaer.

Spoiler: Diversion: The Dark Leap

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In Tisaer, the only true diversion from work is the Dark Leap. Beneath the Tower, there exists a sphere of perfect void, the distillation of the corrupting bleed that the Prince reins in. It is the anchor for the Nineteen and a focal point of Tisaer’s power.

Naturally, thrill-seekers have found another use for the sphere. The Dark Leap is a practice that involves throwing something, or multiple somethings, through the sphere at various angles to control how long the item in question spends in the darkness. Because the nature of the Prince’s power is binding, the results can often be spectacular. Items can merge into one, or one item can subsume others, or what comes out of the sphere will bear no relation to what went in, or any number of other results.

Naturally, the next step was for people to begin jumping through. Some people do this to test courage or prove themselves to friends or lovers. Others do it simply for the thrill. Living beings typically survive the jump, but not always.

Unsurprisingly, the gambling opportunities are immense. Wagers can be placed on the nature of the emergent item, the condition of the item, the amount of time the Leap takes, and any other variables.

Spoiler: Conviction: Alabaster Nightmares

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There is one faith in Tisaer - Alabaster Nightmares. The constant psychic strain across the district induces frequent nightmares among the citizenry. These visions are full of ivory shapes grasping and scrabbling at the psyche, with edges of maroon and gold pulling at loved ones.

When awake, the citizens venerate the Prince. When they sleep, they fear the Alabaster Nightmare. In all states of consciousness, the ideology allows no dissent. It is a binding, a call to action, and a life-long adherence to a simple tenet - when the Tower Calls, you answer.