Posted: Sat Oct 15, 2005 5:01 pm
by Singh
I see.
I never knew the Iberian peninsula looked exactly like that - must be a freak co-incidence I guess :/
Anyways, im reworking the map almost completely from scratch in PS. In the meantime, I wrote up this history to the planet. It's 10 pages long, so its not considered much of a history at all. I will do up all the biographies on the races a bit later, as well as the important locations and characters. However, for now, here is how the world came to being, at the least.
*****
Although it can never be known whether our own universe has a creator; someone or something that started the strange sequence of events that led to our existance, it is entirely possible that there are other places out there that do have a creater. Perhaps, entire universes that at one point of time may have had a guiding hand in it's formation, and a guiding hand in it's growth. Or perhaps created purely out of coincidence, or the deliberate intent of a cascade reaction through time and space.
Although our story and world started at one point of time with a creator, it's destiny, it's fate would hardly be influenced by that creator, and would soon grow to encompass even it.
In the beginning, as with all things, the being (we shall address it as that for now) began the process of creation. We do not know why it did it, for such things are of little concern to mere mortals; all we know is that it did. The universe, in the beginning, was similar to our own; but the being had apperantly created many like this before...but then, for some strange reason we cannot fanthom, it proceeded to make this universe...unique.
Although it's physical laws and rules are identical to most others, and it's conditions were most certainly suitable to life; the being gave this universe something extra – or rather, two things extra. It gave the universe two undercurrents; two 'chains' that ran through it's entirety; from length to length, dimension to dimension, beginning to end. These 'chains' as it were, supported the universe in it's solidity; the proper balance between both ensuring that the eventual heat-death that most other universes faced would never occur. This universe was special; it was built to last...provided it was well maintained.
The being created two chains; one of order that re-enfoced the physical rules of the universe, ensuring that no matter what happened or in the case of outside influence of others like it, it would remain solid. Time, space, dimensions; the chain encompassed it all. However, simply having one chain was not enough – for the universe would still fall to the logic entropy. This was why the second chain was created – it was the embodiedment of entropy, of illogic. One could not call it chaos – because it never was. The second chain was capable of 'bending' the physical laws re-enforced by the first chain to accomplish things far beyond those allowed by the mere laws of physics...but it was always in an orderly and logical way.
If one could call the first chain the book of law; then the second chain would be the book of loopholes to the law. The second chained allowed the universe to defy entropy, acting almost as a setient being in the ways it kept it going. It was also incredibly unpredictable in how it went about doing it's task. Sometimes it would use an almost-impossible cascade, while at other times it would use an old law in a simple way; appearing much like magic. Both chains were interconnected in their purpose; yet totally seperate in how they went about doing it.
To the inhabitants that came later on in the universe, the first chain was simply known as 'The Order'. The second was a different case however, as the name for it kept changing from society to society, sometimes region to region. It can be called just about anything, from simply 'chaos' to the ridiculous sounding, yet strangely fitting, 'Elder's Wit'. However, the most common termed agreed upon is the one given to it by followers of the first chain. They gave it a name that described the second chain's tendency of random and mysteriousness quite well. They simply called it magic.
The being connected both chains to a particular location; a nexus of sorts. This nexus was where both chains met, and with the weakest links. But here, each chain re-enforced the other, making up with it's strength, the weakness of the other. The nexus was a physical location within the universe, and here, the forces of the chains were at their strongest. In a sense, one could have called it the throne of the universe.
It was these two chains that kept the universe together since its birth, it was these two chains that would ensure it would never die. The Being had reached the pinnacle of it's achievements...but yet, once all the bricks were laid and the cascade begun, the being disappeared. Unlike the other universes where it had stayed and controlled it from beginning to the end; the being had left this one, almost as if abandoning it to its lonely and eternal fate.
And so the universe grew on it's own, much like any other. Eventually, the galaxies cooled and the gases within began to clump together to form stars and solar systems. Eventually, the same occurred in the local gas field within the Nexus. A solar system began to form; with the gases around it forming into 15 different circles, each one of which would eventually become of the 15 different planets in the system.
To them however, the fifth planet was the most interesting.
Who they are is a great mystery. They have no name, and denounce any given to them. They are addressed only as the Wanderers. Some recognize them to be of the same stock as the creator. They were once made by the being, but were no longer part of him. Their power, their influence, although not as powerful as the creator's could not be disputed by it. What is known, however, is that they both worked together. The Wanderers came upon this universe created by the being. But to all appearances, they came to it with a purpose; one that was as unimaginable as the creator's. They converged upon it in the millions, if not billions. It was too early in the universe for life to have formed to any similar levels of technology or sheer might for that matter, so they were unequaled as well.
The Wanderers headed straight to the Nexus, where the new system began to form. Here, they watched, waited, and started to build. It is never sure why they did it, but only how. They utilized the remains of unformed planets, the power of both chains, the power of the nexus itself – all to build seven gates. The building took long...but the Wanderers were patient. They would wait, no matter how long it took, for their task needed to be completed. As the planet formed below them, their structures began to form above. Large gates, kilometers across and with a shape reminescent of starfishes (except nearly all with eight arms), their massive hulks cast certain parts of the planet to go into shadow for years at a time as their slow orbits crossed the path below. .
But they did not only build. During their wait, they also moulded the nexus, changed it in ways unimaginable. They made it more robust, and linked both chains closer than ever before. Then they tied the control, the connections of both chains with that of the planet itself. The power of the chains flowed through the planet; not directly affecting it, but still being accessable the most from it. Were they acting to continue the creator's intentions and desires? Perhaps they were...
Eventually, the planet cooled and grew stable. Lush greenery began to grow on the single continent, and life had already begun to stir in the vast Ocean depths. The Wanderers had been waiting for this moment, apperantly, as many things came about in this age.
Seven of the installations had been built, with the eight hovering above the planet, almost half-way completed. The Wanderers had predicted that by that time, other life would have begun to explore the universe and they would stumbled onto them sooner or later. With the seven installations, the Wanderers activated around the planet a field of unimaginable power, drawing it from the very nature of the Nexus itself, as well as the two chains. With this, the planet soon became impossible to attack from space, protecting it forever. The only way in and out were
the gates themselves, with the eight supposed to provide the final and last set.
On the ground itself, The Wanderers worked as well. When the ground was ripe enough for life, they sowed the seeds of their plans. They placed unto the planet four races that would serve as the vangaurds of their presence.
The first race were the humans; forever adaptable and capable of equal amounts of logic and illogic, the Humans were given the task to guard and maintain the constant flow of The Order Chain. Although the chain itself was strong and could take the toughest beating imaginable, the Wanderers still wished for someone to keep it's integrity. The humans were the best choice for that, since they were capable of keeping the energy flowing at a constant level, even though they themselves harnessed it the greatest. However, should the need arise, they were also adaptable enough to have the ability to look after the second chain of magic.But such a task was reserved on the basis of necessity.
The second race they introduced at the same time were the Charlen. An unusual race wit an unbelying peaceful nature, they were chosen to control the other chain for the Wanderers. However, their physical makeup allowed for enough latent physic abilities to make them incredibly suited for making use, protecting and maintaining the second chain of magic. They were ideally suited for the task, despite being physically weak. Their technological prowess was enough to allow them to use the first chain should the need arise.
The third race did not have a name of their own, but were simply known as the overlords. A race entirely made up of near-immortal tree-like beings, the overlords were as old as they were wise. They knew the ways of the universe, and of the living things around them. They knew the weaknesses and strengths of both of their younger species, and in particular, theirs was the only race capable of completely controlling the Kirabeen. They had been appointed the honor and duty of overseeing the other three races under their custody, as well as having the overall say when it came to decisions regarding either chain. Only their race was suitable, since they were the first in the universe, and knew the greatest about it. Theirs was the only one capable of actually looking after it.
The final race to be chosen were the Kirabeen. And their's was the one which suffered first. The Wanderers had left around the planet a fleet for the Kirabeen, which they would use to protect the planet against any hostile invader, should they ever make it past the shield. The fleet was also to be used to make contact with other species, and to maintain good relations, for the sake of the other inhabitants. The Kirabeen were born and bred for the task, and accepted it with glee. Although their race was at it's basic core an aggressive and predatory one, they valued honor and and the art of diplomacy and were the ideal choice when it came to inter-plantary relations. On the ground, they played the role of merchant-men and traders, forming much of the planet's middle-class. They were under the complete and utter control of the Overlords though, as a safety precaution should their aggressive nature ever re-surface.
A fifth race existed, one that The Wanderers knew about and befriended. These were a race of ocean-dwellers that had evolved soon after their arrival. They were a direct result of The Wanderer's arrival, which came to a complete surprise to the elder race. The new race was named the Nevosians, and The Wanderers treated them much akin to how one would treat their own son. They had no need for technology, for no other race could exist in their realm. The need for war never arose, simply because the Oceans were vast enough to accommodate ten thousand times their number. Such was their race that The Wanderers shared with them their dreams – something completely unheard of with any of the other races.
The Wanderers had made their choices for those to remain in control. It was almost as if they were preparing to leave. But when they did, nobody expected it.
It was quite literally a vanishing act. At sunset, they were there, guiding and building the eight construct....but at sunrise...they were gone.
They had simply gone, abandoning everything. Tools that had just been used the night before lay in their work places, as if suddenly the people using them had just dropped them and left. Not a single soul remained in space...as confirmed by the burning debris that made up the grand Kirabeen fleet in orbit of the planet. The Wanderers had destroyed everything in orbit and locked out the constructs in their swift abandonment of the planet. Several million Kirabeen died within seconds as nearly all the ships shut down and self-destructed, imploding into a pin-point that emmited no light, no heat and only a few peaces of debris that had somehow got cut off from the body.
The Wanderers had indeed abandoned everything. Nothing was left of their presence anywhere on the planet, or in space. The installation they had placed on the planet itself had disappeared completely and reportedly within seconds. The only clue left behind was the eight construct – spiralling in orbit with only four of it's eight arms completed; it had been abandoned halfway through construction by it's creators, and not a thought had been spared to complete anything onboard...much like how the universe had been abandoned by it's own creator.
The only race that held a clue as to where they might have gone were probably the overlords, but upon questioning it was found out that the Wanderers had only left behind a means for contact. But it was useless, as they had promised that for a long time to come, nobody would answer any call. None of them would be around the planet ever again, much less the universe.
But how long had this gone on? The Wanderers...they travelled from universe to universe, as evidenced by the constructs that they left behind. Each could open a passage to an infinity of universes, each one a tantalizing choice into possibility, each possessing an infinite number of stories. Perhaps, they too were just a story, a dream that appeared and then simply disappeared, only to be remembered as a fading memory. Maybe they now roam the stars in another universe, bringing about order, or breaking it down into chaos...we will never truly know.
Fortunately, the races on the planet had been given a role, a purpose, and they stayed true to that purpose. Perhaps the Wanderers had expected this sudden exodus, for they had trained the races well enough to function without them. Although the Kirabeen had suffered initially, they eventually acknowled the loss, and honorred their dead and then moved on. For them, death was merely another part of life. However, they did swear to exact revenge for their fallen comrades, and at the very least would demand an explanation – a reason as to why The Wanderers did what they did.
Either way, for the most part, the races were left to their own devices for the better part of a millenia. Time has a way to change things; the societies began to mingle together, and generally everyone stayed happy and kept to their original purposes. For several generations, peace existed.
But all good things must come to an end.
In this case, the end came to them. It came in the form of two beings. These were nowhere near as powerful as the creator or the Wanderers for that matter. However, they were incorporeal in nature, and to the average human or Kirabeen, they could easily be considered as gods. The two beings had come in from elsewhere in the universe; following the trail of the chains to it's source in a mad desire for power and control over it. When they found the planet and the constructs that hovered above it's skies, they immediately tried to take control over it. However, the Wanderers had prepared for such things. The field kept everyone in, but it also kept everyone out, including the two. The planet dangled in front of them, the knot of the universal chains tantalizing and tempting them with the possibility of infinite power over this universe, and potentially the surrounding few as well. But the field held them at bay, not allowing them to directly intervene or get anywhere near the planet itself.
However, even the field had it's limits. It was designed to work in conjunction with the eight construct, which was not online. Upon close inspection, the gods found cracks...crevices too small for any mortal being or any primitive technology to make use of. But for them, it was oppurtunity.
They made use of these cracks, reaching out to the population below. They still couldn't effect anything directly or completely; such were the limitations. But where they were unable to manipulate the terrain of the planet or the chains itself, they were able to affect those controlling it. There were several amongst the populace, mostly amongst the Humans and the Charlen that were very open to suggestions, to manipulation. A few soft voices here a few visions there...both gods found it difficult but yet viable to control the individuals, and through them, the overall population. With control of the population, they would have control of the chains.
And so it began. Slowly, each placed their pawns on the land, moving them into positions of power, and affected key people here and there. It wasn't long before tensions began to rise between both races. Displays of comradery and friendship were soon replaced with stares and glares of suspicion, of hate. Friends dived onto the verge of fights, and the future started to forbade war.
But the Gods' activity did not go unnoticed. The overlords realized what was happening, and decided to act quickly. They immediately sent in the Kirabeen, often to negotiate and keep the peace. For a tense quarter century, the Overlords were in a virtual war against the two Gods for control over the planet, although the only other race that knew of this were the Nevosians. But the latter were unable to do anything to aid the Overlords as they battled to preserve the balance of the universe.
The Gods, fed up with the Overlords, worked together to take them out. They moved one of their pawns, a human well-wersed in the life sciences, into a blind hatred and rage against the Overlords. They used the pawn to create a disease that would afflict the Overlords – and then they struck.
The disease was slow, and it's effect almost invisible at first. Although the Overlords continued to fight, none of them realized at first what the disease was doing to them. Outward, they only appeared to rot a bit more than usual, but inward, the disease had spread havoc amongst them.
It quickly spread amongst the Overlords and soon they discovered the disease as slowly, painfully, each began to die. With their deaths, the Overlords' control over the other races slipped. The Nevosians tried to help the Overlords, but it was in vain. The culprit was never caught and the trust in the humans were shattered. Worse still, under the weakened grip, the Kirabeen managed to throw off the overlords control and declared independence from them and the other two groups.
The Overlords, however, couldn't do much about it. They focused inwards, fighting to stop the plague that had consumed their civilizations. In the end though, they realized it was no use – the plague spread like wildfire, and the only one immune to it was the first Overlord, whose system had grown large and old enough to withstand even it's devastating effects. As with the species, the first did not have a name, but was addressed as the Prime Overlord. Seeing a bleak future for his species, the Prime ordered for the overlords to gather from all over the planet at the Domacles Vally – it's home. Their bodies forming the roots of an entire forest that covered several thousand kilometers, the Overlords all waited for the Prime's orders. The Prime, knowing that none of them would survive, asked for them to cast unto him their memorie and their dreams. The Overlords were a flexible race, and although their physical shells maintained their psyche, their memories could very well inhabit any body. In a sense, they could not die. As long as one Overlord remembered the other, then that memory would stay as long as the Overlord remained alive.
Thus, the prime took on the memories of each and every one of the Overlords. Their griefs, their tragedies, their joys and the story of their lives. The memory of a once-proud civilization, the memory of it's peak and its downfall at the hand of the cursed Gods that hovered high above the planet. The story of a civilization placed there to rule wisely, and one that was abandoned there to it's task. Now it had failed the ones that had placed it there.
It is not sure how long it went on for, but after a long time, the only thing left in the valley was a forest of dead tress, forever paralyzed and frozen in their last moments of agony. All the trees were hollow, yet so robust that no force of nature could dislodge them. At the centre of the valley lay the Prime Overlord. It is not sure what triggered the events that followed, but some suspect that the Prime wasn't strong enough to withstand all the sorrow, all the grief that had been forced upon it.
The culmination of such energy, such pain forced the Prime Overlord to emit a massive psychic blast that engulfed the entire valley, as well as the surrounding country side. Anything living was instantly killed, such was the power of the blast. Somehow, the Overlord has managed to keep the blast going to this day, rendering an area of 300 kilometers around it completely unhabitable. Anyone that attempts to go inside the 'sphere' of the blast dies, while those who go close can feel the agony and the cry of the Prime Overlord in their mind...a cry of pain and denial, and one demanding vengeance. It appears to be calling out to The Wanderers, begging for their return and redemption for it's race. It continues to call till today, although there was a brief interruption once about half a century ago. However, it is generally agreed that it was more of taking a breath than an actual response – after all, if The Wanderers had returned, they most definitely would have shown up to see what had become of the planet.
After removing the overlords, the gods were finally free to continue with their gambit, their great game. The agreements that had been steadfastedly re-enforced by the Overlords and the Kirabeen slowly began to melt and fade away, bringing about a new age for the inhabitants of the planet; an age of war.
With this, the history and the real purpose of the three remaining races were slowly forgotten with time. After seven centuries, nobody knew how to properly influence control over either chain, something which worried the Gods. They struggled to get their Avatars to try and maintain control of the remaining pieces of the legacy; the remaining bastions of power that had survived the long time. But this was to no avail as such bastions began to grow less and less. Technology so wonderful that it could perform miracles were lost, leaving the humans with the greatest piece of technology being a few, sparing single-shot rifles. Most of the humans resorted to using the second chain as much as they could, often mixing both technology and magic to bring about a mixture that worked just as well.
The Charlen suffered the same fate. No longer were they able to use the arcane power of the second chain, no longer were they able to wield it to perform the incredible feats of old. Their knowledge had detiorated as well, with only four members capable of coming close to the same feats that some of the humans were capable of. However, unlike the humans, the Charlen had preserved some of their technology over the ages. They had overall better weapons than the humans, as well as shields and long-range artillary. While the humans had a few rifles to spare, the Charlen upped it with a few automatic guns as well as a sparingly few and incredibly rare tanks.
However, this wasn't completely exclusive. The races had mingled enough that the true wars did not take place between species – but rather nations. The only race that stayed distincively seperate were the Kirabeen, but even they weren't completely isolated. The gods had manipulated the species into three camps and three different ideologies.
The East was controlled by the nation of Stairan, headed by one of the God's charlen avatars, Lord Ulestine. Stairan was a large, sprawling bueracracy that cared more for the good of the nation than the fate of a few individuals. A majority of it's population consisted of Charlen, with Humans and Kirabeen making a quarter each. Although for the most part, a lawful and peaceful state, their dissent for their neighbour was clearly evident.
In the west and south-west of the continent, lay the Bensquire empire. It was headed by Emperor Bilastine, a cruel dictactor that had ruled it for a century now. He used the immortality granted by the gods to rule with an iron grip over his kingdom, where lawlessness and an inorder ruled. They looted every Stairan city they came to, leaving the pristine buildings and structures in nothing but death and devastation.
The third nation remained completely nuetral. It was the alliance of the Kirabeen, whose leader remained mostly nuetral. Occupying the cold north heartlands, the Kirabeen were mostly isolated and seperated from the other two, living beyond a natural barrier of mountains and rivers. To them, the most they ever needed to get involved in the politics of the other two was a demand for the release and return of the Harbinger. But that is a story for another time.
For seven centuries the battles went on; in bursts of short and long, they had just enough time in-between for both nations to replenish themselves, yet not long enough to remember their true purpose or figure the need for peace. Many of the God's Avatars came and went in the wars. Fed up of continually starting fron scratch, the Gods finally, through subtle means, changed the basic structures of two of their avatars – two whom were chosen above all the others. These two Avatars were now immortals, ruling their kingdoms under the control of the Gods, as if like puppets commanding even more puppets.
In a sense, the Gods too were now puppets, with the chains being the puppeteers, and the God's own incredible thirst for power being the wires connecting them. Either way, the chains were no longer being maintained, and slowly began to deteriorate; bringing about various disasters across the planet. The population no longer knew why such things happened and those that did were so few in number, that it was just as good as nobody knowing at all.
There were those on both sides who knew enough about the chains and kept them running as stable as they could, however, they were fighting a loosing war against entropy. Distance was their enemy, and time was running out for them.
But things changed. After seven years of war, both nations came to a grinding halt – neither had the resources, the technology to continue one without bringing about the doom of their own. As with most wars, it ended as a stalemate and then the resulting cold war between both sides. The Gods were determined however, and would have their way. At least, they thought they would.
In the first quarter-century of the cold war, an incredible even occurred. The Wanderer's gate was located in the north. It had re-appeared suddenly off the coast, right in the middle of both empires. The Gods were nervous about such a development; for if the gate was active, then surely The Wanderers would return. And upon viewing what happened to their world, they would undoubtedly be angry. They manipulated the nations into sending troops onto the artificial island. However, what they found there was no Wanderer.
The gate they had built there had opened up to a much different world...one which held a vast number of demons; strange flying reptiles and lizards that poured through the opening in time and space, as well as several creatures that appeared to be made of clay. These new species were strange – they did not belong here. Had The Wanderers sent them in an act of revenge? The first few individuals attempted to find out. Initially, contact was crude and undecisive. Their language was simply too hard to deduce.
Then the Nevosians came in, curious as to what the matter was. The new species were able to communicate directly with the Nevosians with absolutely no problem. The Nevosians never conferred with the other species what the newcomers had said, though, and simply led them away.
For a fortnight, the strange creatures poured out of the gate, creating a trail several hundred kilometers long in the sky. Their forms flew so high that no rifle could hit them, no arrow could ever hope of reaching them. What few flak guns that were present were quickly destroyed as the creatures followed the Nevosians through the inland rivers and across the mighty continent to it's other side. They led the newcomers directly to a place neither race dared to step into; a place once known as the Domacles Valley. The Nevosians attempted to enter the foot of the valley, bringing along with them the newcomers. However, every attempt resulted in a fatal ending.
The Gods watched this from above, and suspected that The Wanderers had sent these newcomers here upon hearing the Overlord's eternal, damning cry for help. But if they were sent by the Wanderers, why had they not spotted the Gods till now? Why had nothing been done. The Gods attempted to do something about this while they still could. They implanted in their avatars a deep suspicion of the newcomers...suspicion that quickly festered into hate...and hate that transformed itself even quicker into War.
Realizing that the newcomers were probably in danger due to this, and that the Overlord was not responding, the Nevosians took the newcomers away from the continent. Those that were capable of making the journey left with the Nevosians, heading to an island far out over the Ocean, where no human or Charlen could ever reach. The only vessel capable of sailing the distance was in no condition to do so, hence they would be arguably safe there. The few that could not make the trip, though, hid where-ever they could throughout the continent. Safety lied in the shadows for them, and their lives were long enough to allow them to live till they were either forgotten, or somehow capable of making the journey.
With the temporary crisis somewhat over, the Gods turned to the nature of the Gate itself – only to discover it had once again disappeared into the nothingness from where it had came.
But the Gods were spooked by this. The Wanderers had capabilities far greater than theirs, and the fact that the Gate opened simply meant that they could have returned at any point of time. From the activities of the gate, and the recent pause by the Overlord, it was defiantely sure that they would return someday. Rather than stick around and wait, though, both Gods decided to abandon the planet and left as fast they could. Niether bothered to clean up the mess that they had left it in.
Without their influence, one might have thought that the planet would return to some semblence of stability, some semblence of the peace it had once been. But such things only happened in stories. The rulers of both nations had been too long under the influence of the gods, had for too long being immortal and without true power. They still hungered for it, and the hatred between the two would never end.
Hatred has a way of spreading, much like a disease. Unknowingly, unwittingly, the two rulers spread it to their underlings and the rest of their nations. Although, in the end, the situation did remain stable, it hardly remained peacefull. The cold war stretched on into it's second quarter century and tensions began to continually build.
Unfortunately, no-one here knew how close to the brink the chains had come, how close they were to giving in to entropy. Although they held out now, little did people know, that the very war they were clamoring for would bring about death not only them, but all of their existance as well.
And so this is where our story begins to take shape, on this little world which was the throne of the Universe. From the few and rare large cities that dotted the continent, to the many small villages present in the spaces between, from human to Charlan to even the newcomers, this is what they called home.
For this, is Wedestia.
Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2005 5:37 pm
by Singh
Goober (and for anyone else interested): updated document is [url=http:game-warden.com/singh/Wedestia.doc]here[/url](sans the last paragraph)
Grug: ermm...I think i'll take that in a good way
Robo: feel free to go ahead and use it if you wish, just make sure to give credit. I don't charge for anything I do online (or offline for that matter)
Thanks for the comments so far. More will be forthcoming soon!
I've added more details to the humans first, before moving on to the Charlen.
Customs and Festivals
Human customs change significantly over time, and from region to region. However, there are some basic rules that apply to Hierarchy as well as dealing with the Charlen and the Villagers. A few of the most common ones are listed, however nothing is set in stone as it can vary from place to place.
Almost all noblemen are considered to be either honorary leaders of their respective territories or men that have been vested power by the Emperor/Lord, depending on which nation one belonged to. Noblemen (or women) are always addressed as Sir or Madam. They normally go through middlemen and deal with the upper heirarchy of the system excusively. They are the ones that issues the orders, but dont actually execute them. They are considered the closest thing in terms of power to the Emperor or the Lord and more often than not, are the ones that provide them the information with which they make their decisions. Nobles are almost always appointed by birth, however if the Emperor decides to replace a particular family from a line of service, he can appoint any other family within the nobility or outside of it to take over. The family that is removed is normally dishonored and stripped of all their current possessions, and then quite literally cast into the streets. Whomever takes over gets the belongings as well as the post and offices. Being a Noble here is a dangerous occupation, as both leaders are incredibly impatient and demanding, and more often than not, being a noble is hardly ever a blessing. People take great pains to avoid becoming one, despite the immense rewards and benefits that come with the job.
Below the noblemen and just above the average citizen is the middle management. These are the people that the nobility and upper heirarchy work through. Unlike management, though, they can often be found on the ground level doing the dirty work like resolving problems, re-routing supply lines, collecting taxes, inspecting city systems, etc, etc. However, unlike the nobility, corruption (especially in Bensquire) runs wild and scot free in this layer, and more often than not, the nobility has to step in here and there to take control of it when critical and vital assets go missing. These people are normally given the titles of Dukes/ Dutchesses Or Squire/Lady for the Bensquire empire. Alternatively, it is either Counciller or Minister for the Stairan empire. Most middle management have an aura of arrogance around them, and normally many people rarely welcome them in. While the nobility may be considered honored and priveledged, the middle management were easily considered dispicable and mere puppets.
The average citizen in most urban centres perform in a variety of jobs, ranging from basic sewer maintanence and cleaning to important research and medical work. Most workers in the empire's service are not looked up upon and rarely respected, mostly due to the corruption. Those who are extremely corrupt are called as 'Trumpeters'. The origin of the name came about during the second century of war, when an incident led to the theft of the emperor's large collection of musical instruments, chief amongst which was a golden trumpet. During investigation, the instrument was directly tracked to a senior nobleman, stretching it's way through almost the entire service's length. It was finally found in the nobleman's personal musical group. The consequences were servere, leading to an entire crackdown throughout the system and many, many hangings. Hence the slang word 'Trumpeter' came about to describe those who would dare to go into such extreme types of corruption.
Although the cities run all twenty-three hours, and some humans do work night shift, more often than not most of the humans only work during the daylight hours, leaving the more nocturnal and appropriately suited Charlen to continue on in the night shift. This is especially true in the villages out in the wild, where the local wildlife can kill unsheltered individuals quite easily.
Cities are so rare, however, that most of the population work in the villages, so it hardly matters. When the cities become too heavily populated, it is considered necessary to form a 'Dhaire'. A Dhaire is called upon only when a city has been stretched to it's limits and is unable to expand fast enough to cope. It is at it's most basic core, a group of settlers and a small company of troops under the leadership of a single noble, appointed by the Emperor himself. The Dhaire's basic objective is to take a singificant percentage of the city's population out into the wilderness and then set up camp, establishing a small village. The exact distance isn't set in any terms, but it has to be a minimum of a hundred kilometers away. However, more often than not, Dhaires wander out for over five hundred kilometers before finding a suitable place to settle down and make residence. As an unwritten rule, however, most Dhaires also avoid other villages, keeping a minimum distance of at least 20-30 kilometers between each. This is to ensure that resources are not stretched out between the villages, and to ensure that should one become large enough to become a full-fledged town or fortress, there is enough space for expansion.Through the perilous journey, Dhaires suffer many casualties, some to wildlife and some to raiders. There have been occasions when the soldier contingent was not enough to protect a Dhaire, and raiding parties managed to destroy and kill all the people involved.
However, most of the time the time Dhaires are succesfull, and new villages and small towns are formed once they reach a suitable site, providing essential communications services to the empire. A village, in this case, is a settlement with fewer than 200-300 people and covering at most two-three square kilometers of land. Should the number of surviving residents be enough along with soldiers, a town council is formed along with the eventual construction of a fort along the peremeter. In the case of success, the Nobleman involved is almost always declared as the ruler of the village/town, answering only to the Emperor/Lord. If the noblemen died along the way, then a council is set up to govern the city, consisting of the two oldest surviving members of the Dhaire and three of the soldier contingent's most senior commanders. In such a case, the resulting village/town is mostly set up as a military outpost, living off the land and keeping the troops running. In either case, a statue is built out of stone in his or her honor after his/her death at the centre of the village or town as a sign of respect and good luck. Should the nobleman have died during the journey and in battle to protect the Dhaire, then the statue is to be made from bronze as opposed to stone.
This has led to one of the most well-known traditions for those who decide to travel between the towns: the paying of respects.
Before leaving a town or village, most travellers stop at the statue first and salute the Nobleman/Woman. This paying of respect is considered to bring about good luck to the traveller, and takes the blessings of the nobleman/woman with them. It is considered an important tradition, and when travellers reach the next village or town, then too they pay their respects to the Nobles in that town.
Most towns and Villages are primarily agricultural establishments, but there are certain small towns do serve as sources for industrial resources and goods. There are also several mining villages that make their income solely off the resources they provide to the empire. It is these villages that require support, since their environments are quite harsh and dangerous. People who work and live in these areas are often well-respected and in-demand everywhere due to their experience and adaptability.
No race or civilization would be complete without it's rogues and more 'wild' factions. These are most prevelant amongst the humans, where some teenagers have a tendency to run about, driven on by their hormones and a thirst for blood. Although most are placid, there are those that do have the habit of attempting to escape the heavy hand of the empire, and more often than not, end up joining the rogue groups that operate in and around the wild forested areas. These groups are almost invisible, blending in with their natural habibats with ease and a familiarity that makes it troublesome for the Empire's troops to stamp them out. The groups run around and steal from any unprotected traveller they come from; caring only about profit, money and satisfying their own savagery. These savages aren't the only ones out there, however. Many of those opposed to the ruling party and the Emperor/Lord take refuge in the forests after they have been discovered and exiled from the cities. There are also several organized groups that oppose the current rulers and which work hand-in-hand with the rogue groups to further their propoganda and interests.
In relation to the Dhaire, is probably one of the planet's greatest festivals;
Dhrenim.
The origin of the festival is from an even that happened during the third century of war, and is multiple in nature.
The first origin is in the planet's agricultural cycles. The soil in most places remains fertile most of the year, and crops are grown and harvested quite quickly. However, a significant percentage of the crops take a long time to grow, and can only be harvested bi-annually, once during summer, and once before the winter arrives. Both times are celebrated quite heavily, with both villagers and citizens rejoicing at the arrival of new crop and grain. This, combined with the events that occurred during the third century of war, formed the summer festibal of Dhrenim, celibrated primarily by humans, but sometimes with Charlen participation as well.
The second origin comes from an event in history. The period at the time was a peacefull one; with recent escalations in combat having died down temporarily and an unsteady truce in place. A Dhaire sent by the then-emperor of the Stairan nation, Lord Tyranus, accidentally crossed into Bensquire territory in their journey for a place to settle. Their group was ambushed by a large group of rogues, that outnumbered them greatly. A Bensquirian army group was nearby and responded to their call for help. Despite the two forces being outnumbered almost two times over, they managed to repel the raiders and keep the Dhaire safe. In recognition for the Bensquire army's help and support, the settlers promised to one day repay the contingent for their help. The settlers then formed the town of Sylvan nearby.
The did get the oppurtunity nearly a year later, when the same contingent came under attack from another force, headed by elements of an anti-Bensquiran political group that had been banished years before. They had gathered enough raiders and enough resources to sabotage the contingent's supplies and cut off their supply routes. Although the contingent was able to drive them off, they were essentially trapped in the town of Kilrath with no hopes of getting food or water for months. With the local supply tapped out, it seemed that they would not last much longer.
News of this travelled back to the town of Sylvan of the soldier's plight, and the citizens remembered the help the soldiers had given them the previous year. They took it upon themselves to help the soldiers; regardless of the situation. At the time, both nations were once again on the brink of war, with tensions running high. But this did not dissaude the townsmen. The year's first summer crop had just come in, and the grain had been collected and kept ready for a massive celebration that night. However, rather than go ahead with the celebrations, the townsmen packed up the grain into sacks, enough of it to fill at least thirty carts. They, along with a contingent of Stairan soldiers and engineers then took the carts and made a massive trek across the wildnerness to Kilrath. According to the story, fate seemed to have thrown everything against them; from the immortal sky raining down throughout their trip, to multiple raider attacks throughout the journey. But the Stairan soldiers held fast and protected the convoy, whilst the townsmen and engineers kept the carts going, even carrying the sacks of food on their backs when the carts couldn't be stacked anymore.
The trek was nearly 80 kilometers and yet, after two days of travelling, the Sylvan convoy reached the gates of a very surprised and elated Kilrath town. The food they brought was enough to last the soldiers months, and solidified the relations between the two towns unlike anything before. As the story spread throughout the empire, reactions of joy and rage alike erupted in both nations. However, both the rulers were impressed by what had happened, and realized that if two towns were capable of giving up so much for each other, then their differences could not have been so great. Although they never knew it, it was the first time the actions of humanity had gone directly against that of the God's wishes. Both rulers declared a feast, and a celebration be held with peace talks. The event, the exodus was declared to be an annual event, one that would be commemorated and celebrated for time to come. The day would be celebrated as the Dhaire that almost was – one that saved another town, instead of creating a new one. It would be called the Dhrenim, and the leaders of the convoy were hailed as heroes.
The incident allowed peace to continue for another quarter-century. The event was celebrated each year, and it's significance was recognized not only as the element of union between both nations, but it also came to symbolize the coming of the summer crops, as well as the strengthening the relations between the armed forces and the front-line villages and towns. Every year, the same exodus would be repeated, from Sylvan to Kilrath, with much pomp and grandeour – such was the power of the story, the event.
Even during the following five centuries of war, the celebration continued. For three days during the summer months, that particular region of the land would cease fighting. Soldiers, that had just the day before been killing each other, would stop and welcome the enemy they had fought to stop. Both sides would mingle in Kilrath, while the Sylvans would spent several nights in massive functions organized for their behalf. Eventually, the two towns became extremely inter-connected, with the routes between the two heavily guarded and patrolled to form the Sylvan-Kilrath trade route.
In a sense, the two towns and the stretch of road had become a seperate state that belonged to neither nation. It was this miner seperation that allowed such celebrations to happen. To make sure no anonymity was present, no Sylvan soldier would ever engage a Kilrath soldier, and the reverse was true as well. The contingents lived in their towns for ages, and as they prospered, there was little of the dis-satisfaction that led to wars elsewhere.
The subsequent rulers realized that it was probably wise not to involve themselves in this, for several reasons. The Sylvan-Kilrath route represented to both nations the greatest controlled stretch of border between the two, as well as the safest route for their diplomatic envoys and correspondences. No rogue would threaten the route between the two towns, and the surrounding forest had proven safe ground for several Dhaires to take root and provide more resources. The trade between both towns also provided significant income.
Since neither town was acting traitorous (they were paying their taxes and still providing for the empire) in any way, they closed one eye to the celebrations, allowing them to continue unscathed.
To this day, both towns are the only ones that have been mostly untouched by the war that has ravaged their neighbours, despite being located geographically in the middle of it. Indeed; in times of greatest tragedy, the celebrations that take place here every year instantly make one think of heaven and grandness. Unlike elsewhere in Wedestia, this little patch of ground had defied the Gods every attempt at control...there are those who speculate that this could not have been a mere co-incidence, and that there was something deeper at play here. However, nobody has a clue what.
This concludes most of the customs for the humans. There are innumerable more that have been documented, however they are too varied from region to region, so it is impossible to list them all.
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