Journeywoman's Journeys, A Fantasy Age of Exploration Worldbuilding Quest (Updated Daily)

"...Citizen Ran Sen Kiu to speak on matters of security."

As she finishes her request, Nayam reaches into her voluminous robes a final time and throws some kind of powder onto the circle, causing the flames to leap upwards.

Anne begins to wonder what exactly the flames are burning for fuel, but then realises that as the flames flicker, the shadows they cast are not those of the room, but of a Kal Ymi man. The large shadow of (Ran Sen Kiu's?) centauroid form seeming to waver back and forth across the tiles and up the walls.

"I am he. Why have I been brought back. I do not wish to be here. Send me away."

The voice is… Anne hasn't heard necromancy like this before. Kaf was part of her, she heard his voice inside herself, but his voice always had a richness of tone and emotion that this voice utterly lacks. In fact, the voice seems to move with the shadows, and is dull, the impression of a being that can be heard clearly but not easily. It is a very disconcerting experience.

Nayam straightens up to her full imposing height and, ignoring the opening of the door and the trio of Arumvolk men who emerge with horrified expressions on their faces, address the flames, "Citizen Ran Sen Kiu, on behalf of your city I am requesting that you fulfil the oaths you took as a citizen."

"I do not renounce oaths. Speak."

"Citizen Ran Sen Kiu, I ask you to speak on what you know of the dealings between Captain Gensdottir and the…"


[ ] "...Azenian Dominate"

200 years ago the young mercenary warlord Eton united the wealthy Jijan valley. His new bandit kingdom produced an endless stream of arms which Atem used to extract tribute from his neighbours at spearpoint.

For thirty years Atem personally oversaw this extraction, but seeking to secure his legacy he commanded his sons Suran and Tarum to conquer the east and the west. Whichever son conquered the most would be king.

But Atem had a third child: Azen, who was relegated to women's work: overseeing the royal household and the arming of the men. It was she who first recognized the worth of firearms, who wrangled the noble houses, who armed both brothers while she treated with the kingdom's subjects. And it was she who told both brothers that Etom had died, leaving the throne vacant.

Instead of crowning the victorious brother, Azen knew that she had built the royal guard, and she had overseen the kingdom.

In a bloody purge that turned the steps of the royal palace into a red river, Azen's partizans killed first the brothers, and then the nobles of Etom's court. In their place Azem elevated the noble ladies who ran the households, and the minor princes who'd been denied glory, inaugurating Azenia's practice of dual household and sword noble control of the Imperial Armies.

Ever since, "Azem's daughters" have expanded their bloody gunpowder empire across vast swaths of land until they now find themselves matched with a similarly productive nation: the Qwassilth Federation.

[ ] "...Naendian Regency"

The mythical philosopher-kings of Naendia sought to preserve their knowledge beyond the limits of necromancy and the distance of gods by binding the wisdom of all previous king's into the mind of each of their successors.

The Naenian kings ruled with both absolute authority and growing madness, but kept their ambitions confined to Naendia itself, where he was aided by a council of seventy seven advisors who each practised a different kind of divination.

Legend says this ended when the last king of Naendia killed himself and took the voices of his ancestors with him. Bereft of leadership, the House of Seventy Seven Omens claimed their right as regents until the return of King's Voice.

It was not long before each Omen sought to outdo his fellows until Naendia itself plunged towards civil war. But then each Omen, seeking to cast his fate, each found they were doomed if they pursued this war. Instead they realised that if Naendia turned their armies outwards each man would, in his lifetime, earn glory and riches. And thus has it ever been.

Though legends of Naendian prowess at divination are perhaps overblown, their penchant for war is not, each Omen seeking to win status and influence over his peers by dint of conquest, and each of his sons seeks to win his father's favour by similar means. This endless grind has brought the Regency to the borders of the Goldenwash Federation: a rival they cannot yet see a way to best.

[ ] "...Umbirn Realm"

The Umbirn Imperial family is ancient, said to be thousands of years old, supposedly directly descended from the first man and woman on Meht and blessed by an ancient pantheon.

And for that entire period, the Veur Dynasty has been guided by the Great Circle. The composition and nature of the Circle has changed over those thousands of years, as has its duties and composition.

At times the council dominated over the Imperial line and at other times the Veur Emperors and Empresses have reigned supreme over a council which existed barely in name only. But as much as things change, both the Veur Line and the Great Circle remain.

Ruling from the straits that divide the world, at the 'crossroads of mankind', supposed divine favour has prevented the conquest of Umbirn even in times of greatest decline and chaos.

In recent centuries the Veur Dynasty has been working hand in hand with a resurgent Great Council made up of the nobility and great merchants in order to expand both Umbirn's borders, and their trade networks.

Under the young Emperor Het the Even-Handed, both of ancient Umbirn's institutions work hand in hand: The Emperor working to ensure the security and prosperity of the Great Council's merchants and the Great Council's merchants enrich the Emperor's coffers.

That effort has brought the Empire directly into conflict with the Qwassilth Federation, who are dominant over much of the globe's trade networks and who remain too strong to simply subjugate by force.

Big write in today! 250 words. I found this to be a fun one. Mostly looking for their vague history, a bit of a vibe for how they operate domestically and externally, and who is in charge.

A/N said:

Sorry about that unplanned hiatus. I had a mentally unpleasant week at life and work that took a little while to recover from.

I've also just found that I've accidentally written myself into a corner because I completely forgot where I was going with this last section

Click to expand...

Click to shrink...

I have COMPLETELY forgotten where I was going with this entire section. And I need to get back into writing instead of weeping into my palms that I'm a failure, so I hope you don't mind if I skip a little bit ahead. I'm sorry. Have a lesson on Necromantic theory by way of an apology >: P





"The trick" says Madam Nayan as she leads Anne out of the Shrine of Grandmother Gretal, a different flask now appearing in her hands, "is to make sure that you know the EXACT question you need to ask. And how to ask it. AND from who." She takes a swig from her flask, "The dead don't lie, but by grandmother's bones the restful dead are RELUCTANT to speak."

Anne nods, "So, can you summon anyone who's died?" she pauses, "Or, well, you said that there was a time limit, but-" she cuts off, interrupted by a loose cobblestone on the path that leads back around to the front of the shrine, and reaches out to steady herself on the white painted wrought iron fence that ran around the Shrine's perimeter.

Nayam gives one of her airy waves, "That's the caution at the heart of Necromancy. You can't bring back everyone, ESPECIALLY if they've had a restful death." she tucks her flask away, the glint of the metal vanishing in the space between her sash and dress.

"There are three things that a Necromancer NEEDS to begin speaking with the dead." Nayam holds up her right hand and extends her thumb and index and middle finger and begins ticking them off with her left as she talks, "We need either: a bond with who we're trying to call," the tumb goes down, "their mortal remains," the middle finger is drawn inwards, "or they need to be restless dead."

For all the time that Anne had spent with Kaf, no one had ever explained the intricacies of how that had been possible, and the more Nayan talks about her field the less sure Anne is of how exactly she'd been bound with an ancestor's spirit.

"Okay, what's a bond then?"

"I'll get the OTHER two out of the way first." Nayam says, looking away from Anne and using a single raised eyebrow to dare a merchant in her path to stay there, "Remains are simple. It's bones. It's bones or remaining flesh. Which means it's always bones. Though SOMEtimes it's blood." she shrugs, "It's USUALLY bones though. And a restless dead is someone who died without being at peace with that death. They're NOT ghosts haphazardly stalking the streets of major metropolitan areas dispensing SPOOKS and scares. But they're eager to talk when called upon." she sighs and rubs her forehead, "There's an entire discipline of Selenian necromancers whose whole thing is playing THERAPIST to the restless dead." she gives a nod of satisfaction as the merchant steps around her, "I can't think of a more THANKLESS job than ghost therapist."

"So what's a bond?" Anne presses.

"Alright, I SAID I was getting to it." Nayam rolls her eyes dramatically and reaches into the fabric of her dress to pull the flask back out, "Please Anne, I need to stay hydrated."

Anne gives Nayam a questioning look, ears angled in doubt.

"Necromancy is thirsty work. This is just water." she takes a swig, "MOSTLY just water." she tucks her drink away again, "So a BOND is." she frowns, "Okay, a bond is something the dead give a shit about.'' She taps the book that's hanging from her side, tied to her white sash of office, "As an Orator, I have a copy of Gerra's Book of Oaths. An Oath is a bond that's both powerful and reliable. Oaths have weight on the soul. That's why I NEVER swear any oath unless they've got a knife to my neck." says Nayam with a wink.

"Then why the ten year limit if an Oath is so powerful?"

"Oh," Nayam waves a hand in the air, a practised motion of dismissal, "Even the most powerful of bonds pale before the tranquillity of death." she frowns, "It's also a legal thing. The last time someone proposed open ended oaths of service, about an" she waggles a hand uncertainly, "eighth? Or sixth? Of Gerra BURNED in the resulting riots?" She shrugs, "It turns out people don't like the idea of being BOUND to service for all eternity."

"Yeah, actually. That sounds an awful lot like slavery."

"Yeah, people don't like that" says the Orator, "Now if you don't have an oath, you might still have a tie of family or a tie of companionship, or a piety or something else. Now, I'm a PROFESSIONAL, so I don't like to rely on things I don't have written in front of me. That BULLSHIT is for Selesians to mumble about in their black robes and silent catacombs."

Anne nods thoughtfully, "That does make sense, if you're aiming for reliable summoning for a specific purpose."

"Exactly that Anne. NOW the strongest bonds are those of the Cardinal Colours. Powerful emotions like HATE or love." Nayam raises a finger warningly, "An Orator DOES NOT fuck with those. Cardinal Colours are a business for Channelers. It blurs the distinction between Channelling and Necromancy and makes it impossible to control that binding. This is why smart Channelers let the dead lie and smart Necromancers do not bind spirits. These disciplines don't mix."

Anne nods seriously, filing all this information away to relay to, in no particular order, her travelling journal, Jalynn, and Bryn over dinner that night.

"Now," Nayam stops, her expression and tone suddenly even more serious.

Anne comes to an awkward stop several steps ahead before turning around to face the older woman, giving her a curious and confused look, her ears moving towards a cautious position.

"Now. If ANYONE tells you they want to try open ended Necromancy, you PUNCH them and you run away." Nayam is completely serious, the usual twinkle in her eye and sardonic cast to her features vanishing, replaced by a haunted shadow, "You have no idea who or what you're getting. Most of the time nothing will happen. And very rarely something will happen that you'll never forget or forgive no matter how long you live." She sucks in air through clenched teeth, "Wise men say not to call up what you CAN'T put down…"

"And if you don't understand what you're calling up…" Anne says with dawning understanding. Now wondering exactly how her grandmother not only summoned Kaf's soul, but bound him to her for seven years.

-

No vote, today, sorry, I'm just getting back into the habit of writing tonight.

I'm still getting back into it and ended up using most of my day on DMing and Adulting, and since I've got work tomorrow, I thought I'd drop a Worldbuilding Intermission as part of my nefarious plot to regain momentum for this quest.

-

Like any other culture, the peoples of the Qwassilth Federation have their own mythical heroes and legends. From adventurers and demi-gods to merchant kings and honourable rogues, these figures are celebrated in stories and songs past, present, and future.

Like many such figures, the enduring popularity of these narratives says more about the people who tell these tales than the figures who the tales are about. They exemplify the virtues a society values, or stand as examples to emulate or avoid. Children hear many of these tales at their elder's knees and adults tell other stories around the fires at night once those children have gone to bed.

In this case, while I will be providing examples, I am mainly looking to fire up the Write In muscles in the people following this quest, and the relative ratio of votes will indicate these figures' popularity in universe and how widespread knowledge of them are..

I'm looking for a brief description of who they were/are, who tells their tales, what kind of stories are told about them, and what evidence, if any, exists of their passage in history. Write in options should be somewhere near 240 words tonight.

EXAMPLES:

[ ] "Prince" Adan

A trickster figure popular amongst the Harakai, Adan was apparently a wanderer, con man, and diplomat all at once.

The tales say that Adan was born an orphan during the exile of the Harakai people. They say that Adan grew up the favoured son of outcasts and criminals. They say that he never once acknowledged even a single god or king. They say that his heart lay with the poor and destitute. And the Harakai of that time were very poor and destitute.

His most well known epithet, "Prince of Nothing" is said to be a mocking title given to him by local nobles, as while he seemed to consider himself their equal, he had no noble title or royal blood despite his arrogance in treating them as equals.

Tales about Adan typically portray him using his wits and quick tongue to redirect violence away from Harakai, and to turn those moments instead to bonds between new neighbours. Often these stories also feature Adan poking fun at the pretensions of self important leaders and engineering situations where they had to publicly praise him and his people.

While the veracity of these tales lies in doubt, historical records contemporary to the Harakai migration make references to a Harakai diplomat who brokered several important treaties with the indigenous peoples of the Qwassilth, and there is an inscription on a foundation stone of Khot-Sen-Lanua's oldest island saying "Adan laid this stone."


[ ] Izoma the Sower

The legendary grandmother of all Oristatl, Izoma is the most ancient and venerated of Oristatl ancestors and her adventures are said to be the explanation for why things are the way they are.

Izoma was four arcs tall.

Izoma had forty husbands and forty wives.

Izoma planted every plant and hunted every beast.

Izoma wrested the secrets of fermentation from the grains.

Izoma razed to the ground the armies and walls of the Great Stone King.

Izoma raised the mountains to block out the heat of summer and cold of winter.

Izoma carved the Qwassilth's tributaries into the earth so she never had to travel far for water.

Izoma wrestled knowledge of farming from the spirits of the trees, fire from the spirits of summer, and channelling from the spirit of knowledge.

Izoma never died, she simply left the Orisatl one day because she'd done all that there was to be done and seen all that there was to see. Oristatl Elders say that even the largest matriarch should be humble because someday Izoma will return to see what became of the seeds she planted long ago.

There's little evidence that a single figure shaped the geography of the Qwassilth coastline so fundamentally, but scholars and necromancers both agree that a great matriarch and channeller of renown existed thousands of years ago and left such a her mark that the Oristatl turned her into a mythical figure.