Siaxine Civilization Thread

To the Calraii Princes, our merchant will trade Lumber, Exotic Beasts from Thos, and inevitably the services of their most skilled bodyguards, to fight in the grinding wars of the Calraii. Then, the Merchant will travel east along the Siax coast to Oront.

The Great City blossoms with life of all kinds, every race in the world dwelling in some part of the ancient metropolis. Aqueducts feed the great baths, and the trader will feed the great Colloseum, selling what beasts he has left to the Arena-masters. To talk of Oront is to talk forever, and so this is all we shall have of it. To the east of Oront is the Strait joining the Barren Sea to the Siax. The Waters here play host to the Merrow Tribes, and so the Trader travels quickly to the Prosperous East. The Land East of Oront is Eurus, the Land of Rivers. Here, the Elves have dwelled since time immemorial. The Old Races join them, with the Oldest Dragons dwelling in the River Deltas, effectively ransoming the local Kingdoms yearly floodwaters.

The Trader will purchase all manner of Wheat, Barley and Rye from Eurus, before moving on to the great Mountains. The Mountains border on one side the Domains of the Eurian Dragon-Kingdoms, or the Priest-Kingdoms of the Elves, and on the Other the Golden Domains of the grand Desert, the place from which spice, silk, gold and gemstones flow into the Siaxine World. These lands are ruled by Merchant Kings, and sometimes grand Emperors, who at times rule the Entirety of the Desert, though they never do so for long. The Third Border of the Mountains, the north, plays host to the Beastman Khaganates, who raid into the foothills almost yearly.

The Mountains are, as such, a land of Hardy, warlike men, standing at the borders of East, West and North. At the Peaks of the highest mountains, the greatest writers, artists and priests of the Siaxine World Dwell, Syrinx, Tengu and ancient Air Sages. The lesser mountains are the homes of the Drake Princes, who war with one another, marching armies of Kobolds across mile after mile to ransack and raid whatever they pass. These Hordes play host to the oldest artefacts in the World, including the Greatsword with which the Emperor Eudoxius, Godborn, who's Empire covered Calraii, Thos and all the lands across the Barren Sea, slew the Might Drake-King Artashan, who's wings covered the sun.

Cont.

This Event hailed the settlement of the Dragons, and the great Emperor is worshipped by ceaseless thousands. Below the Dragons, within the mountains themselves, a constant war is fought. The Dwarvern Shahs rule great halls of white marble and gold, while the Goblin's rule every passageway between these domains. This is not a war of grand armies, but of constant attrition. The Dwarves fight with a ferocious skill, while the Goblins fight with their own Savage Anger, determined to claim the Passages out from the Underground and the lucrative trade they control. Below the Dwarves, the Humans of the Mountains toil, in the great deep valleys they farm and war, most never seeing beyond their own one of the thousands of valleys. They are ruled by human Lords, who war constantly over arable land.

The Trader would purchase a menagerie of things from the Mountain-lands, selling his wheat for the valuable citrus fruits of the Valleys, for the Metals and Metal-crafts of the Dwarves, and for the great works of literature and art of the Syrinx Monks. Beyond the Mountains, is the land of the ruined cities. This land was once known as Bakar, the land of a Thousand Cities, but was despoiled by the battle of Artashan and Eudoxius, Godborn. The barren land is ruled over now, by Giants, who wander between their lost cities, mourning their lost greatness. The Trader will not stop here for long, only long enough to listen to the constant mourning song of the Giants, and perhaps to buy one of their ancient crafts, even perhaps a Golem.

The Trader then returns home, the round trip having taken perhaps a year if he made every stop. He will sell of his wares for a final time, and likely use the money to run for office in his republic, before setting out once again at the end of his term.

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Phew. I hope you can understand that I'm here to stay. Now, please vote for our Race/Place. I am happy to answer any questions you might have about the setting, please just ask.

I am liking the mourning giants traveling the ruins.

I vote Giants it is time for one of the roaming tribes to unite the Giants and bring back their glory.

Well that isn't positive.

I'm really not sure what to do in this situation. I can hardly just up an abandon the thread, but I can't run for perhaps one person.

Vote Giants and Ruins

Alright. I was anticipating that there would be more people, and as there aren't, I'm going to pop out to see a friend. I am not abandoning the thread. I will continue to run this for as long as it takes. The session will end when the thread does. I will run this as often as I can across the next week and see what happens. I may only be able to make one or two posts at a time, or I may be able to run for a full evening, but for the moment, I am only waiting for players. Please vote, and never assume that I have abandoned the thread.

got a twitter feed or something you can post to so we can know when you are back?

>>709588
I will post here when I return. Thank you for your patience.

Vote for giants and ruins too

Demons
Ruins

>>709585
Giants
Ruins

Feeling the Hype

I'm on board for giants and ruins as well. I'll try and comment on this thread if it stays alive if you're willing to write OP.

>>709585
I guess we are doing Giants and ruins

Alright, I am here and ready to go. Giants in the Ruined Remains of a city on the coast of the Siax Sea. Give me but a short while to write.

>>709585
>Anticipating more people
>Sunday morning
>On /qst/
Come on we all know this place is slow already and the time didn't help at all...

A Giant lies dieing. It's lungs heave, racked by bloody spluttering. The ash has filled it's lungs, and the scratching, howling pain does not fade. He does not know what kills him, only that he can no longer breathe without the pain. His limbs feel weak, and he clutches a talisman to his heaving chest. Pale-dark skin swims in sweat, and the ivory symbol brings little comfort. He hears weeping, in the far distance, the cry of grief that almost always fills the air int he ruined lands. He contemplates trying to wander towards the noise, but knows there is no reason to try. He will only find someone dead or dieing, and as the sun fades behind a Cloud of dust, he cannot bring himself to bear such a sight. The bones of his shattered body groan with the weight of his body, as he falls into the ashen desert, thinking that he shall never again rise.

Time passes unnoticed over his pallid form, but he begins to awaken, a light prising his eyes open. Before him stands a figure, all wrapped from head to toe in patchwork linen. The figure offers a gloved hand, and wrenches him to his feet, helping him to walk, through his body's protests, to a small ruined chapel. The pair walk through a hole in the wall, hunched down to fit under the roof, before collapsing with a crash to the ash coated floor, before the altar.

You have dragged your injured fellow to the camp. He has fallen unconscious, but that will make it easier. You know by the swelling of his chest, by the air that still flows through him, that he has not yet succumb, and the embers of hope in you warms ever so slightly. You drop to your knees, your body the size of both of the pews of the ancient chapel, and you begin to pray for his life. Your voice is harsh, perhaps hopeless, but your prayer still resounds across the landscape. You feel something in you awaken, some energy, some light. The ash above seems to shiver, the great cloud fracturing and casting a ray of light upon you. You begin to shout, your ancient voice bellowing across the landscape.

You speak aimlessly to the gods, all of them, begging them to heal the giant beside you. Soon, another pair of your kin arrive at the chapel, watching you in awe. Then, another two, and then three more. They settle in behind you to pray, and the ash begins to shiver with the force of your voices. The sound of so many giants, more than you have seen for perhaps a century, awakens the embers of energy in you. Your eyes, dark for so long, light up. You stand, and address the stunned crowd. They are all as you are, wanderers in the desert, eating the creatures of the land, and trying only to survive. Your energy amazes them, and they seem eager to do your work. For the first time, perhaps in your life, you cannot hear weeping. With the small chapel, on the edges of an old settlement, acting as your home, you have been granted a chance by the divine, you must now take it.

Cont.

You are served by eight able bodied giants, ranging from fifty to two hundred years of age, and from 8ft to 14ft in height. They are all shy and private, doing as you command, but barely talking to one another. The Sky is clouded with ash, and the landscape is full of blasted, ash-buried ruins. Some plants lie in the ashes, providing a tiny amount of food. Your people normally travel and scavenge, and the local area will not feed them for long.

>1d20 for Actions (Physical Actions) 1d100 (Intelligence, Magic, or Technology)

>>710050
Research Wind magic.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>710103
>>710050
This. If we can blow away the ash, we can grow

>>710050

>>710103
I agree with this but before we do speak to the others.

"Brothers and Sisters you have witnessed this. The gods have not given up on us, they have given us our power back. Run find others of our kind and bring them here, we need to build our numbers and survive, together..."

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>710114
Backed