The Chronicled World

Bone and granite? The idea of making buildings from the bones of once living beings was a concept that was both seemed impractical and morbid to Spurius. Was it enough that they have killed them. To desecrate the bodies like that seemed to be adding salt to the figurative wound. At the same time bone seemed to be a poor material to make buildings from as bone fractures with even the lightest of blows. Still it wasn't his place to decide what the Harpies should use for their buildings. For the best really, as they seem to be rather frail beings. Still Spurius would rather have the strong and sturdy stone and steel walls of the 13 cities rather then walls of bone and granite.

Spurius takes the chair that was offered to him. "Thank you, the Host. As you may not know, we are a people that reside to the north of this land. I, the Diplomat, as well as my kin back home call ourselves the Forged Born, as we are born from the forges and anvils of great smelters and smiths. Our people are made of steel gears and plate, as we have given up our bodies in exchange for the safety and security that steel can provide, allowing us to move beyond mortal limitations such as pain, hunger, exhaustion and even death itself."
 
"I see." The diplomat said. "What brings you to seek alliance with our five Noble Houses?"

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Yijhet had grown tired of reading long winded reports and requests. She stood, snapped her fingers, and went to the door. The slave opened it for her, and they both walked down from her chambers. These beings of metal were intriguing. Despite their lack of flesh, she could sense something unfamiliar making its way through the lower floors. Silently descending the steps, Yijhet probed at these new presences. They were carnal souls of some sort. Negotiating with these beings might be more interesting than reading old documents. They were surely less dry, or at least she hoped.
 
"What Ciphers did you send?", asked Alok, as he inquired about the mission. "21,13, and 11", replied Bellamire. "Hahaha why the need for such heavy firepower?, it's just the dealings of ants. "It doesn't matter what they are, an alliance is an alliance, and if one were to happen it could change the landscape of the realm, you can never trust these people." Alok grunts as he gets up from his throne" "And where are they now?"

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The secret agents known as Cipher are called to investigate the meeting that will "shake the world", as the 3 Ciphers given with this task, Ciphers 21,13, and 11, arrive in the canals of the ivory city of the Pale Harpies, where the meeting is being held, as they masterfully evade all guards, and begin to run in the direction of where the meeting will be held, through means of back ally ways and streets, however as they travelled towards there destination they realized that they were not alone, and that a small group of 3 others were also headed in there same direction, and that they weren't Forged Born, or Pale Harpies, as there footprints indicated otherwise. "Stop" Commanded 21. "We're not alone here, split up and go through different routes to the meeting place, we'll all meet over there, make sure to watch yourselves carefully, as we don't know who else will show up" "yes sir", yelled out 13 and 11, as they all split up taking different routes to the meeting place, making note of the fact a foreign entity is among them.
 
When the border fort realised who was at their door, they quickly provided Paralua with all the awkward deference due to his status. Of course, these were still barbarians, unaware of the proper etiquette when faced with His Magnificent Holiness Sheson, but Paralua could tolerate a certain degree of ignorance from non-basnans.

In the morning, an escort was organised and the marjari were promptly led to the palace of King Decius.

As he laid in his palanquin, carriers ran up and from him, keeping him informed of the situation in the Shesonate.

Things were calm, all things considered. A fishinf Pond had noticed Forged Born going West towards the Harpies. The Tamassoa Halfling Pond wanted rights to sell new stuff - gems, this time. Border Ponds had continued their raids on their neighbours. All was good.

With a wave of his palmed hand, the Sheson called for messengers to be sent. Orcs in the Shesonate were to be identified and listed. A gift of beer and smoked fish is to be sent both to the Harpies, to the wild elves and to this Ashok, king of Ashar. It was time to see what was the attitude of these people. Sure, centuries of gentle raiding might make some a bit... resentful, but true leaders had to look past those puny things.

@ChelonianCommander @Horicabu @Yogii @Emory
 
"It seems the rest of the surface is just as interested in those talks as we are." Comments Madam Kilj as a runner relayed what information they could to her. Unfortunately there was very little that was new and unknown to the Kobolds, the 'secret' of the bone buildings a painfully obvious and known one.

What was interesting of course was the arrival of at least two other races. It not only told Kilj (and thus the rest of the council) that their networks may be more developed than expected, but also that the leaders had poor decision making skills. The birds were notoriously territorial and loyal, so sending a team in would mean sending them in with no backup or even a map of where they were going.

It irked Kilj to no end that her spies were unable to go any further, but her people's anonymity vastly outweighed one simple meeting, the results of which had no effect on her or Candeleb. Just as a precaution however, she had her spies remain where they were, and her engineers begin to map out the foundations of crucial structures.

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Deep within the bowels of the earth, back at Candeleb, Greenslash had to almost physically restrain himself for letting loose maniacal laughter. It had really only been a few hours since his creation, which he dubbed 'Slaughter' because that's what it did, had been reborn into what it was and he was already making startling headway.

While right now it was nothing more than a raving, barely sentient animal, Greenslash found he was capable of inducing moments of calm and drowsiness upon Slaughter by slowing down the rate at which the Corruption coursed through its body. During this time he was able to direct and move it as he wanted, and despite the decreased speed he found it vastly preferable to the full power wild animal.

Now all he needed to do was refine it. And maybe build a sadde because even falling from its back would break him.
 
Qildor listened in stunned silence at the harpy’s description of the architectural structure of this building. The trio looked on from above, having scaled a significant portion of the kraken-based edifice. The group was concealed under the arch of a high “window” or cavity of the beast’s skeletal form.

“Elf bones,” he repeated under his breath. The acceleration of his breathing echoed within his wood-carved mask and reverberated in his ears. His mind wandered deliberately to Aeven and his thoughts became less ambiguous, focusing to form a message. Warning, harpies may be hostile, treat with extreme caution.
 
High King Decius was busy in his office working on recording monthly mining gains and taxes when one of his runners barges into his room.

"My High King Decius the King, I, the hurried, have urgent news of visitors from Basnad who wish to meet with you." Said the Runner. Decius takes a second to process this information before placing down his quill and sighing. "I, the Overworked, see that I, the King, am needed once again. Tell them I, the King, shall be out shortly. I, the King, need to rally my, the King, Praetorian to meet these foreigners." He told the runner and the runner nods and gives a respectful short bow before running off to tell the foreigners that the king will mee with them shortly.

Decius rallied 120 of his Praetorians and marched out to meet the visitors. In his mind he could only think of what the Basnad would wish of the Forged Born.

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"It is simple really." Replied Spurius "We have warred with the Orcs for 150 years, and the constant attrition of both our forces have one side incapable of overcoming the other. With a secure southern border, we can focus our forces towards the north and internal raids against the orcs and bring them down to a manageable level."
 
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The creaking of ungodly machinery characteristic of the machine men and a cloud of dust signalled that they had been noticed, and a welcoming party was being organised. The nervous Basnans had to wait another long fifteen minutes before they could the fearsome Praetorians were indeed accompanied by King Decius. Paralua smiled, his side tendrils quivering with satisfaction. The King had come himself.

It was no surprise, really. The Giver of Life had shown him the way, Paralua already knew his mission would be successful. But the Gods were cruel, and his interpretation all too fallible. What success might mean for the Great Crab and for His humble servant might be very different, and Paralua didn't presume to know. And thus, the sight of the royal procession calmed his two hearts that had secretly been pounding in his cold chest.

Paralua stepped out of his palanquin, dressed in his Sheson attire - a white tunic embroidered in gold with a belt of seashells - armed only with the ceremony spear engraved with the story of the Great Migration. His servant hurried to put up a large umbrella to protect his sensitive skin from the harsh sun. Seeing their Sheson so confident and safe, the small Prong of 50 guards and servants visibly relaxed, like if the whole gathering had released their breath at once.

Leaving his men behind him, only accompanied by his scribe, his umbrella holders and his an Exarch, Paralua stepped forward 40 feet before waiting for the Forged King. When Decius approached, Paralua stayed very still, neither bowing as an inferior nor offering his hand to be kissed as he would with an inferior. This galled him, treating an unfaithful like an equal... But it was necessary, and Tamatoa would forgive him this for the good of His will. Hopefully.

King Decius, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. The Ponds echo of your age and wisdom, of your knowledge and skill in all things. May the Great Crab grant you eternal prosperity!

With a wave of his hand, the Sheson dismissed the few people that had accompanied him this far and stepped closer to the King, within striking distance. His wet fish smell would be palatable this close.

And yet, there are those who threaten our ways of life. You must have seen it, felt it. The Gods are angry, they have not received their due yet. I have a vision, noble King, and the Crab of Life has revealed the subject of his wrath: the orcs. The orcs, King Decius, are an aberration that angers Nature itself, and our nations will never live in Godful bliss as long as these creatures live. We must unite our efforts, Forged Born and Basnans united against this insult to the face of Tamatoa. Both our nations would greatly benefit from such an agreement. Our ponds have need of your steel weapons and tools, and we have more Holy Beer and lumber than we can use. Surely, you will join me in making our people more prosperous and the Gods happier.

That was a nice speech. It had been a while Paralua had to convince anyone of anything. It felt nice. Decius better agree, but the doubt was... invigorating. Hopefully, the gifts he had sent to his three other neighbours would soften their heart and open their minds to such a civilised discussion.
 
As Ciphers, 21,13,and 11, worked there way around the city, they all met at the top of the squid-like building, Watching over the current meeting taking place, over gargoyle statues, right in the open. "You see what it's made out of right?", 11 said as they watch the meeting unfold. "Yeah, Elf bones", replied 21.

The rest of the Ciphers looking at him with an anxious expression. "All this does is confirm what we already know, Harpies can never be trusted". "Should we put this in the report?", 13 said while taking his quill out. "No, you know how the king would react to something like this, we won't make any assumptions until we know for sure what's gonna happen between the Forged Born and the Harpies."

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"My lord, it appears a gift of beer and smoked fish was sent to your estate, not long ago", Alok's Servant announced. "And why should I care about such a gift?" Alok sneered. "Because this is a gift directly from the nation of Basnad Shesonate, we received the gift from their diplomat who entered the kingdom through the ferry ports". "I know nothing of such a nation" Alok replied as he gestured the servant to leave. "But umm sir, you see.. this is a gift directly from the Marjari people...". Alok paused as he spit out the ale he was drinking, and began to once again laugh hysterically "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! AHAHHHA, YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE SAVAGES HAVE THEIR OWN NATION!". "So you don't want me to respond?", the servant asks as he patiently waits for Alok to calm down. "No, no, I want to respond!, I wanna see their little nation for myself!", he says as he chokes up on the ale. " Set up diplomat to go meet with them, and see what they want, because they have my attention now" Alok says with a menacing smirk. "Right of course my lord", the servant says as he bows and leaves the room.
 
"You wish for us to join your war against the Orcs?" The diplomat said. "I would have to consult-" He paused, glancing behind Spurius. Then without a word, he left the table and walked, head bowed, back into the building. A very tall being approached from behind, rounded the table, and sat in the diplomat's place. She was covered in heavy down bleached white as snow. She wore a painted mask. Two dark horns rose from her forehead, red charms hanging by gold rings. This Harpy needed no introduction; it was Lady Yijhet herself.

"Welcome to my city, general Spurius." She said. Her voice was soft and even, sounding strange coming from such a regal-looking being. "I've been listening to your chat with my diplomat." She leaned forward, the tiny slits in her mask barely revealing two blood-red eyes. "We are conquerors, and uniting with the Forge Born in battle peaks my interest. However, we aren't here to help others. We Pale Ones have our own needs to look after." She went silent for a moment, to let it sink in, before asking, "What will you give us in return?"

@ChelonianCommander
 
The fish man spoke with honeyed words and acts with confidence. He speaks of his god wishing for his people and the Forged born to join together against the Orcs to the north. A fine prospect to be sure, but one that he would need to handle carefully. The speaker wishes for the Forged Born to trade their secrets of steelwork and engineering for lumber and beer, one of which they would use to expand, and while beer is one luxury that Decius remembers missing, at one point at least. But he must focus on the now and only lumber for weapons and technology is a steep price. A man must be slow to hand a stranger a sword, for he can become an enemy tomorrow is a teaching that Decius holds close to his soul stone. Still allies will not be simply driven away.

"Come. You, the guest and I, the host, have much to discuss. I, the host do not believe you, the guest have given me your name." He said and he began to lead Paralua and his enterage through the streets of Anio, past the steel and stone walls and past many on looking Forged Born, staring at the strange fish men.

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"I, the Diplomat, am a simple Legate. I, the humbled, am honored to speak with you King Yijhet, the Leader. That is who you, the assumed, are am I correct?" Spurius asks. "We are willing to give you base resources,refined and unrefined for now. We have many metal ingots in store, mining operations, and sheep for wool and meat if that is what you wish. We will not however give you weapons or technology, for a man must be slow to hand a friend a blade, as he might become the enemy of tomorrow." He replies.
 
"Metal and meat?" Yijhet said, brushing off 'King Yijhet' the best she could. Foreigners will be foreigners, She thought. "Our city would enjoy a steady supply of metal. But meat?" She gestured around her. "We've no need of meat. We need crops. Wheat, barley, and fruit. Provide those, and we may be in agreement." Her voice grew slightly less friendly. "As for your quip about technology, we've no need for your trinkets."

Just then, several elves entered the room, placing a crate and barrel beside the table. They opened the already unsealed box. Inside lay several pounds of fish. The other was uncasked, and the smell of beer drifted out. Yijhet cocked her head, confused. "What is this?" She hissed, a nasty edge to her voice. "I'm in something important."

A frazzled Harpy strutted into the room and bowed. "An offering of peace from the Basnad." He said.

"Have somebody else deal with it." She snapped, before turning back to Spurius. "What do you think of my offer?"
 
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"The starving scholar who screams at the hand of berries is likely to have them thrown in his face." Spurius replied. To figuratively spit at the offers given by Spurius was a minor insult that was ultimately inconsequential, but most Legates aren't as calm minded as Spurius. "But enough of philosophy. If it is farmland you, the King, wish for, then we can provide. We have many empty plains and fertile lands that we use for grounds for grazing herds. We can provide you with simple crops such as wheat and potatoes if you provide us the means to do so. The Forged Born do not need to eat or drink, so we have many potential areas for farm. Even our sheep we use for wool and instead of sustenance."
 
"Farmland? Excellent." Yijhet said. She looked closer, and her voice was suddenly much sharper. "I like your wit, but be warned; these little insults are getting on my nerves." As she said this, Spurius could feel the tiniest little tug on his soulstone. "This is my city, and these are my lands. You sit in my palace, and you will treat me with respect." She said. Her demeanor suddenly became much more pleasant. "But with those differences aside, let's get to business." She put her hands together. "I will provide the labor and crops if you provide the land. When the war horns blow, then I assure you our forces will be there. However, I also realize asking for both land and metal, for just this, is unfair. So I have a proposal to even out my offers. The Pale Ones could also set trade routes between us. We could both exchange goods and war against the orcs." She said. "Is there anything your kingdom needs? We are master craftsmen."
 
"In luxuries, refined glass, dyes and marble primarily. However our primarily need is lumber for buildings to expand out cities and grow our influence. We do not have much in the way of housing, and we have thousands of new Forged Born built every month. We will soon run out of space within the decade." Spurius explains.
 
"I see. I and my people would be honored to provide these things to you. We are capable of all you request: artisan glass and dye, silverwood lumber, and some marble." Yijhet said. "I thank you for being flexible with us." She reached, pressed her nail against her chest, and pushed it in. Black, sticky blood flowed out, not down her feathers, but into the air. Its form twirled and coalesced, forming into an intricate shape of a mask branded with an arcane mark. Horns grew out, twisting patterns framing the small charm. From the table rose a thin pillar of bone, and as the blood dried and hardened, it came to a rest on this arm.

"A symbol of kinship, general Spurius." Yijhet said, "for your king. It is an ancient rite, a blessing from the Spirit in the Mountain upon you and your people. If this agreement pleases you, accept it, and our decision shall be made."
 
Paralua was unsettled by the question of the King. Surely he must be joking, and the King of these lands would know of the great leader of the mighty Basnad Shesonate bordering his lands? Maybe it was a test, or a discreet enquiry on how he should address him. Yes, that must be it. The large Marjari opened his arms and raised his hands above shoulder, palms up, in the traditional way.

You can call me Your Holiness, or Sheson Paralua, King Decius. I am glad of this opportunity to discuss with you.

He followed Decius in the mighty city, his eyes lingering on the stone work of even the simple homes, the paved streets and the abundance of wealth and technology. How depraved, how far from the Gods this old people had become. Still, he kept his views to himself.

How mighty your people are! Surely, nothing could stop our combined forces, and we crush these pestering orcs! Unfortunately, the orcs are cunning, and they spread faster than a disease, corrupting everything. The Basnans need steel weapons if they are to be able to support you in this war. Tell me, what will you ask for this?
 
So the Marjari is known as Paralua. At least he knows the stranger's name. He leads the two into a shrine near his fortress, a place where the Forged Born speak of diplomacy under the watchful eyes of the 5 Ancestor Gods. The room is built in a circle, with 5 pedestals laid evenly along the walls, each holding a symbol of each of the 5 Ancestor Gods. A Hammer for the Miner, A Jug of Water for the Mother, A Helmet for the Warrior, A Ruler for the Builder and a Noose for the Courier. In the center of the shrine is a large circle table with 15 different seats, 13 for the Kings and 2 for guests. High King Decius gestures over to the seat across from his own as he sits down for the talks.

"So, tell me, the Host, again what you, the Guest, wish to to gain from this alliance? I, the Host, heard you, the Guest, wish for weapons. Why is that? Are you, the Guest, not capable of producing weapons of battle on your own?" He asks.

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"Very well. I, the Diplomat see nothing wrong. I, the Receiver, accept your blessing." Said Spurius and he takes the chain with as must respect he can offer. "Now if I, the Diplomat, may ask of you, the King, I wish for you to one day send a diplomat to our capital of Anio, our capital. There we can sign a contract for this trade alliance to keep records for the future. To us, it is the the only proper way."
 
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In the fortress town of Kruumlok, throne city of Gundertog, inside the 'Brothers Towers' (the Morttins new royal palace where the Derugn once made their deliberation), Rawl sat enthroned atop a relic from his tribe; a throne made from the scales of a Green Dragon.

The recent quakes have left much clean up from minor avalanche of the nearby mountain to the north. As the advisors and warchiefs finished explaining the situations to Rawl, the Morttin was silent atop the throne. "You've mucked this place up well enough then." He murmured, halfway to himself. The Warchief before him was hesitantly appalled at his quiet jab; "I'm sorry? What have you said, M'lord?"

Rawl's posture straightened, and he spoke clearly; "No, I apologize, chief. You-" he pointed for clarity "'Mucked' our situation - with your bandits? - up in such a way that yes, I, as by my inference, am VERY astounded at your stupidity." The warchief gripped his fists and gritted his teeth. He was not pleased, and then the Morttin drew a shortsword "Ah, anger! I would have thought the murdering raiding Bandits, or the insolent rival gathering parties drawing too close to the borders, or even just the corrupt elders drawing too much Grivnas from the hoard so that our youth are running up short, would make you mad." Rawl stood and walked to a balcony passed the scribes recording the converstion, looking out he continued "But I guess it is simply Truth that draws ire with you. Good to know!"

"How dare you-"

"Shut up. Unless you want me to kill you in a battle, you shut up. Today, from dawn to this moment, I have listened to belly-aching politicians telling me their people no longer see them as warriors and asking for another lie to placate them. You are going to go to your little bandits camp, not to collect your 'cut' that I'm sure is waiting for you, but to lead a war party, from the front lines, to slaughter. every. single. one. Am I clear?"

"...What if I don't make it?" said the chief, gripping sore, middle aged elbows. Morttin Rawl smiled like a maniac. "Then you join people you have never met in holy Gor'guul with Kajh! -OR- you could be hung in the town square for refusing your Morttin's direct command. To my face. You coward."

The guards removed the hapless chieftain from the Morttins presence. trusted advisors entered, and asked for Rawl's instructions for the day. The Morttin, bearing a troubled frown, was silent. "This land might be more then we bargained for, Kurzak." he said quietly to his friend and economic adviser. "What am I to do? These orcs want my help like a stab to the head, and deserve only the latter. But now, if they go down, as do the Once-sons, and possibly our race as a whole." He sighed, and explained to the Chief of the Gunthars that he was to escort that last warchief into battle against bandits near his village. He then explained to his adivsors his other edicts for the day. Then he turned and looked over the city: a sea of thatched roofs erupting with wooden spears (a tradition left over from the days of Oth, the spikes have become mostly ceremonial now, but served to defend from flying opponents before).
 
Paralua continued his incessent polite chatter as the procession moved forward, but he slowly slowed down as they approached an ominous looking building. Warily, the Sheson peaked inside and looked at the five statues filling what appeared as a place of worship for the Gods of these pagans. The Marjari clenched his jaws mechanically, eyes bulging. What was the meaning of this? How could this Decius expect him to step in the house of False Gods? What an insult! After all the civility he had shown to these creatures, that was the way their King thanked him!?!? Well, it seemed he had been sorely mistaken about the honour and reliability of Forged Born, this was pure viciousness and villainy.
Trying to keep his tendrils from shaking in anger, the Basnan forced a wide smile on his face, the rows of small sharp teeth showing.

I apologise for wasting your time, Decius. It seems this wasn't meant to be. Do not worry or fret, my warriors are very capable of crafting and using weapons. I must bid you goodbye now, my presence is needed in Tamalossa. I'm sure you understand the weight of responsibility that burdens us.

There was no point in angering this petty king in his capital, but the slight would be forgotten. For now though, Paralua steadied his nerves and started walking in the direction they were coming from. His mind was already elsewhere. How could he have misread the signs so badly? His mission was supposed to be success. How could this be a success? Maybe seeing the true face of the Forged Born was the intention of the Great and Wide Tamatoa? That must be it. But it did place the Shesonate in a less favourable position. It mattered not, he had to move on. The Giver of Life and Death doesn't wait on anyone.
 
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