moossabi

Fiorid Principality of Verdalfheim (ALF), Round Seven 2052-2054 Chancellor Eydis dei Fiori Dip: 7 | Mil: 9 | Eco: 7 | Fai: 2 | Int: 2 Stat Gains: +1 Dip, +1 Mil Actions [Military] Invade Region 38 with 4 Ground Units under Arni dei Fiori (mil9) utilizing Relentless Butchery (+20% enemy casualties). Space front consists of 3 Space Units under Hinrik dei Fiori (mil7) who doesn't care much for tacdocs and is really just along for the ride. There is no logic or coherence to this action. No regroup or delay following the abomination in the north. Arni takes the troops under his command last round and invades region 38 from the north, while reinforcements from Verdalfheim move in from the east. Beldhan's head will serve as sufficient compensation in the short term. [Military] Raise a Ground Unit fluff [Diplomacy] Sway Media in R35 (TN 12 (currently open); Roll: 19; SUCCESS) fluff [Diplomacy] Sway Media in R51(TN 12 (currently open); Roll: 17; SUCCESS) fluff [Diplomacy] Attend ARK Event -Do thing -Do other thing fluff Nonactions Trade Route with RAT: -Last round RAT sent me Shrewd Business and I didn't notice; it's in the round opener so I assume it's valid Grant support to Conclave contestants in accordance with their verdicts: -Support one conversion each from BAF, CUS, and UHS -Support attempts to introduce minorities in all owned regions from COE and ARK -Support all conversions from HOB and LSP News & Rumors Manos: the Hands of Fate is a fun movie, I recommend it Bookkeeping Government & Military Eydis' base ruler rolls located Heir: Hinrik dei Fiori (: 2/3/4/1/1, +1mil/+1eco from Round2 actions = new core statline of 2/4/5/1/1) Expended Specials: Eydis: M5, D5 Hinrik: E5 CI: Absolutist Integration, 2d8 to Sway actions Mechanical International Ties: Trade Route with RAT General(s): General-Royal Arni dei Fiori (Mil Commander); +20% to enemy unit losses Hinrik dei Fiori (Heir), average between heir and ruler mil = 7 Ground Unit Count: 4 Space Unit Count: 3 Unit cap: 7/10 Treasure Count: 1 (+1 passive) TP count for passive generation: 7 (+0) Controlled Regions Region Name Region # Resource Prime Religion Minorities Desired Import Status Gov Med Merc Lillalfheim 35 Dejan Mustard (2) Thunderbolt Ascension (Plur) - Industrial Machinery Province ALF - - Verdalfheim 36 Oil (3) Imperial Cult (Plur) - Ores & Alloys Capital ALF ALF ALF Grigialfheim 51 Ryban Fish (3) Kinites (Maj) - Medicines & Drugs Province ALF - - Owned Techs & TP Tracking Type Name Requirement(s) Effect(s) From When? Starter Aclaustrophobic Psychiatry - - R4, ARK Starter Algorithmic Imagination - - R4, ARK Starter Arcane Amplification - - R4, ARK Starter In-Vivo Modification - - R4, ARK Starter Nuclear Fusion - - R4, ARK Starter Xenolinguistic Cataloguing - - R4, ARK Starter Pseudogravity Engineering - - Start Starter Badalian Megadirgibles - Permits ground unit transport across the Cloud Sea of Badal. R4, ARK Starter Wet Navy Ships - Permits ground unit transport across oceans. Start Eco T1 Shrewd Business -Honeyed Words -Fabric & Textiles +1 to Buyouts you Assist and +1 to Impress Merchants R6, RAT R34 TP1: Curative Enzymes (Medicines and Drugs) R36 TP1&2: Oil (Fuel and Power) R37 TP1: Assembly Line Robots (Industrial Machinery) R69 TP2: Hematite (Ores and Alloys + Conductors and Circuitry)

Fiorid Principality of Verdalfheim (ALF), Round Six 2049-2051 Chancellor Eydis dei Fiori Dip: 7 | Mil: 7 | Eco: 7 | Fai: 2 | Int: 2 Stat Gains: +2 Mil Actions [Military] Invade Region 37 with 5 Ground Units under Arni dei Fiori (mil9) utilizing Relentless Butchery (+20% enemy casualties), moving through region 38 to reach 37 (50% chance to lose 1 additional unit). Spending 1 treasure to gain +1 on the ground front. Space front to be handled by HOF, contributing 4 Space Units under Turtanu-Ziqpu Ra'ima (Mil 8, attempting Measured Advance (-10% casualties each side)),which ALF will bolster with 2 Space Units of its own. Oh, the grand old Duke of York He had ten thousand men He marched them up to the top of the hill And he marched them down again [Military] Raise a Ground Unit no fluff [Military] Raise a Ground Unit no fluff [Military] Raise a Space Unit no fluff [Economy] Buyout TP1 of Region 37, Spending 1 Treasure (TN 12; +1 Treasure, +2 ARK Support*; Roll: 18; SUCCESS?*) *Lum said support would be granted ooc but in case he can't make the edit just apply a -2 to my roll outcome Nonactions Trade Route with RAT: -n/a Grant support to Conclave contestants in accordance with their verdicts (not like I actually control the necessary media supports though lol): -Support one conversion each from BAF, CUS, and UHS -Support attempts to introduce minorities in all owned regions from COE and ARK -Support all conversions from HOB and LSP (Specifically LSP conversion in region 36) News & Rumors The cycle of violence turns its wheel once again, and now the Illumined Utopian finds itself to be the receptor of disproportionate reprisal from powers nominally loyal to the Basu-Rahman Group. Thanks to the involvement of the Black Cloud Coalition, this crisis immediately clears up any muddied feelings that the Principality's notables may have had about the Jy'mar; their betrayal at the hands of the pirates they had hoped to court should stand as a lesson to all of Tekhum. The situation rapidly evolves from passive support to frenzied panic as their withdrawal from the deserts north of the Aquilatindas precipitates an invasion by one of the Coalition's local proxies. Several offers are made to purchase legal custody of the region, but it is swiftly realized that neither involved power has the capacity to perform such a turnover in light of the ongoing crisis. Ultimately, the threat of a Coalition ally (even if temporary in nature) occupying land on Verdalfheim's doorstep is the final push Chancellor Eydis needs to momentarily discard the Committee of Lunar Inquiry and launch a northward intervention. Girls' Night In Swallowing hard, Chancellor Eydis raises her hand to knock upon the great brass doors, warped heart nearly beating its way out of her chest. Why was this so hard? She has an entire nation at her disposal, the capacity to lay waste to entire regions at the drop of a hat, eternal life... and for all that she couldn't simply knock. It was already difficult for her to muster the courage before her ruinous abduction, but in the wake of that disaster she hasn't been able to face him even once. She clenches her outstretched fist, resolve swelling, before the dull ache of the keratinous gnarls pressing against her tensed knuckles sap it all away. He'd only look at her the same way he always had, except this time with the certainty that Eydis was a failure. "...He wouldn't have much to say about this regardless." Normally, Hekla dei Fiori's silent wheelchair turned even the most innocuous comment into a sudden shock, but the Chancellor remains unmoved, simply lowering her hand and staring at the dim light seeping below the door. After a few long seconds, Hekla wheels closer and takes her younger sister's hand in her own, a reassuring tone easing forth from her thin lips. "Lilja is already waiting in the office." The second she turns away from the door, it's like Eydis is a completely different person, the stoic composure of her frame espousing a dignity which nearly transcends the mangled briars of horn protruding from her knotted hair and her specially-tailored attire. "Right." The duo remain silent as they weave through the statue-infested halls of Radiceft's upper reaches, making their way to yet another ornate door. This one is accompanied by no emotional turmoil for the Chancellor, who steps forward to open it and usher her crippled sister into the room. Illuminated only by moonlight, the stained-glass windows at the far end of the room serve to filter it down to the dullest prism of faint colors. Entirely unperturbed by such darkness, the reclining figure of Lilja dei Fiori perks up from her seat upon one of the office's couches as soon as the door clicks open. "Eydis, I'm sorry, I didn't know that the Jy'mar would be attacked over it-" Hekla flicks on the light switch, red irises finding their way to Lilja's milky white eyes with an unseen look of disapproval. "Don't be myopic. Attacking Basu-Rahman was the greater sin, your little stunt with Marcus simply reinforces what they were already going to do." Throughout this opening of bickering Eydis offers no response, striding across the room to take her seat at the marble desk at its center, booting up the embedded computer system. "Or maybe it accelerated their plans! Those Eucrus people, they also attacked Basu-Rahman, but there hasn't been a peep of action against them. Heck, they went after the base on Badal, if there's anyone those Coalition monsters would be fighting-" "Enough." Eydis rests her chin upon an arm, itself propped up against the marble surface of the desk. "I've never seen anyone argue so vehemently in favor of being guilty for starting a war..." Wordlessly, Hekla takes Lilja's hand and guides the blind woman to one of the seats opposite the Chancellor, taking up a similar position herself. Once they're in place, Eydis speaks again. "Oskar is away at Soleyja dealing with his psionics project, so we can dispense with the prioritization of Aridyin in the short-term. This-" she taps a button on a keyboard, bringing up a holographic display of troop movements on and above Chonkia. The deserts north of Verdalfheim are a hotbed of activity, with the Jy'mar evacuation and Moonmen incursion highlighted for Hekla's sake (Lilja is obviously confused by the stall in her sister's cadence, but is accustomed to the fact that she can never have the full picture). "-is now our highest priority." Hekla shuffles through some reports on a datapad of her own, expression grim. "...I actually met the Purifiers' leader once, when she was young. It feels like yesterday that she was content to run around the Arkhive, having... fun..." "No one remains a child forever." Eydis' reply is understanding, yet blunt. "You should know that better than any of us." Piecing together the context clues, Lilja chimes in. "Well, the solution seems simple enough, we can't just let polities willing to cave to the demands of pirates operate on our northern flank." A stare even more vacant than Lilja's seizes hold of the Chancellor's face as she recalls her own experience doing exactly that. The loss of agency, the reduction to beasthood... Luckily Hekla's lament is able to fill the gap. "They're victims, Lilja. We could have been friends-" "No." The Chancellor's snap back to the present is as sharp as the crack of a whip. "They handed themselves to the Coalition on a silver platter, and now that they have the means to retaliate they've chosen to subjugate themselves to their would-be tormentors instead." Her red eyes lock with those of Hekla, a stoic firmness to her tone. "You knew the girl for a miniscule fixture of her life and a microscopic speck of your own. Forget her. This projective nostalgia is a weakness that our enemies do not share." Thoroughly cowed, Hekla slumps meekly into her seat. Eyes returning to the datapad screen. "Regardless, there are some substantial risks to confronting them..." "Security concerns, I am aware." Of all thorns in her side, the Principality's inability to defend itself against covert action is the Chancellor's most persistent tormentor, but paradoxically the absence of uncertainty is a comforting thing. The thought that she could wake up one morning to find any of her siblings dead, however, remains terrifying to consider. "We know of their... tactics, to put it gently. Hopefully our locality and firepower will be sufficient to dissuade them from doing anything irrational." "...But they're already acting irrationally." Having not previously considered the potential fallout, Lilja's newfound panic is readily apparent within her voice and expression. "What's to stop them from dragging this out as long as they can? We still have other enemies to handle, what if making another one ends up being the tipping point-" "-And that is the reason we're here." Sighing, Eydis turns off the holographic display. "The course of action is already decided; to delay any further would risk Oskar derailing everything. Arni is a mad dog and will be happy to switch targets, while Hinrik's hesitance to fight other Sansarites can be wrung out of him should the situation demand it." The Chancellor rises from her seat, strolling to the window and gazing upon the moon with disdain. "We've been lucky to have minor powers thrown in the path of our existential threats so far, but sooner or later our enemies will outnumber our friends. Unless, of course, we begin reaching out." Immediately identifying where the conversation is going, Hekla's pale skin somehow seems to turn an even starker white. "No. Never again." Eydis can't stomach the thought of looking upon Hekla's face as she continues. In the wake of his critical defeat on the field of court politics, Oskar dei Fiori has once again departed for Veehra on personal business. After a brief stop in Narsai to pay his respects to the now-departed Karla Maronne, however, he is next seen among the Sorcerers of New Kildora, his serpentine demeanor quickly endearing him to local notables. None can say whether he's there to study their magic or if there is some higher purpose to his sojourn. Bookkeeping Leaders and Military Eydis' base ruler rolls located Heir: Hinrik dei Fiori (: 2/3/4/1/1, +1mil/+1eco from Round2 actions = new core statline of 2/4/5/1/1) Expended Specials: Eydis: M5, D5 Hinrik: E5 CI: Absolutist Integration, 2d8 to Sway actions General(s): General-Royal Arni dei Fiori (Mil Commander); +20% to enemy unit losses Hinrik dei Fiori (Heir), average between heir and ruler mil = 6 Ground Unit Count: 5 (+2) Space Unit Count: 2 (+1) Unit cap: 7/10 Treasure Count: 2 (-2) (+1 passive) TP count for passive generation: 6 (+0) Controlled Regions Region Name Region Number Resource Prime Religion Minorities Desired Import Status TBD 35 Dejan Mustard Thunderbolt Ascension (Plur) - Industrial Machinery Province Verdalfheim 36 Oil - - Ores & Alloys Capital Grigialfheim 51 Ryban Fish Kinites (Maj) - Medicines & Drugs Province TBD 102 - - - Computers Colony TBD 103 - - - Fruits & Vegetables Colony Owned Techs Type Name Requirement(s) Effect(s) From When? Starter Aclaustrophobic Psychiatry - - R4, ARK Starter Algorithmic Imagination - - R4, ARK Starter Arcane Amplification - - R4, ARK Starter In-Vivo Modification - - R4, ARK Starter Nuclear Fusion - - R4, ARK Starter Xenolinguistic Cataloguing - - R4, ARK Starter Pseudogravity Engineering - - Start Starter Badalian Megadirgibles - Permits ground unit transport across the Cloud Sea of Badal. R4, ARK Starter Wet Navy Ships - Permits ground unit transport across oceans. Start

Auxiliary Regions Vol1: Provinces of Alfheim Region 51: Grigialfheim Geography Overview: The Southeastern Quagmire Grigialfheim is a Verdalf exonym for the elven lands to their southeast, spanning such a wide range of latitudes that it was unthinkable for the local population to conceptualize the region as a single unitary entity. Its land border with Verdalfheim is geographically fluid, simply marked as the arbitrary extremity of historic Fiorid rule, though its eastern land border is formed by the much more impressive Aquilatindas. The range jutting southwards from the main course of the peaks is often described as the Tail, owing to the mountains’ overall bird-like shape, though the full-fledged mountain range tapers off approximately halfway down the length of the border. The remaining stretch, a long-contested ground, is anchored by a river valley which creates enough terrain to form a geographically anchored border. Rather than being a boundary, this river is the domain of the historically mixed city-state of Rattoheim, whose frontier with the unified Durat state was secured along the western ridge of the valley instead of the river itself. The main body of the region shares much of its climate with Verdalfheim, producing a great rainforest which dominates the landscape. Grigialfheim, however, is a far more unkempt land, with broad swathes of terrain completely submerged in stagnant festering water. The rivers which spill out onto its western coast are slow and easily prone to backwash, the salinity of the seawater rendering much of the coast inhospitable for agriculture. This, however, does not make the interior of the region any more hospitable. While the northern land that straddles the base of the Aquilatindas is sound (though choked by ancient roots), the southern flatlands are home to the Velenomyri, a vast stretch of marshy jungle whose waters are outright toxic to all but the hardiest of insects. This poison swamp is shunned by all, and has served as the main factor driving the population towards the coast to live off the sea. In spite of the hardships imposed by Grigialfheim’s dank terrain, a handful of major population centers have still risen to the foreground amidst a horde of minor fishing villages. Most historically relevant to the development of the Fiorid state is Altosteinn, the hilltop citadel which once exerted significant authority over the region’s north. The dominant narrative of Prince Larus dei Fiori’s unification of Verdalfheim has him simply decide to settle down once his conquests are complete, but the occasional comprehensive history will concede to the reality of the situation: as conquerors are wont to do, he aspired for an even greater reach, striking eastwards in the hopes of subjugating what would eventually come to be regarded as Grigialfheim. He was stopped dead in his tracks by the Lady of Altosteinn, who crushed his armies so thoroughly that it sent him home and motivated the mechanized revolution which defined the eventually-triumphant Verdalf army led by Chancellor Eydis. Its political prominence has since been lost, but the long-memoried Verdalfr still took special care to occupy the fortress as the opening move of their terrestrial campaign. Southwards along the coast lies Velafloa, the commercial hub of the Grigialfr. Though originally an unorganized conglomeration of traders drawn to the area’s bay, deeper naval trading ties with the people of southern Chonkia resulted in the establishment of a permanent city organized in the concentrically-circular fashion of its imported Verdalf architects. A similarly Verdalf-influenced site was constructed further south: a Citadel at the foot of the region’s Firmament Elevator. None can truly say why one of the great ring’s anchors was built here of all regions, but its position atop one of the highest hills of southern Grigialfheim ensures that the tower can be seen from virtually any other point in the region. As such, it became the focal point for numerous religions, drawing in a populace permanent enough to warrant the construction of a permanent site around its base, the Citadel of Cosmonal. Unlike the white stone of Verdalfheim’s architecture, the buildings of Grigialfheim utilize a local grey stone which is prone to the gathering of moss, giving its sites an ancient appearance in spite of their cosmopolitan roots. Pescarygg The vertical strip of land projecting southwards into the sea is known as the Pescarygg, a rocky crest which is almost completely uninhabited by the Grigialfr or Durats. Is crab- and gull-infested crags were donated in ancient times to the enigmatic Rybans, an aquatic folk who spurn contact with the surface world and pledge fealty to a great kingdom beneath the waves. Many Grigialfr, unaware of this ancient accord, have attempted to settle the island over the years, and every effort has ended in failure. Only one site, a lighthouse at the southern tip of the island, has been left unmolested, its mysterious Keeper responsible for saving a great many ships from running aground on the local shoals. People Grigialfr Elvenkind has always held a significant presence on Sansar, though divided into numerous different ethnic groups. Compared to the average human, the average elf possesses more angular features and pointed ears; beyond this, the physical difference is minimal. Stereotypes about their long lifespans hold some degree of truth, for the average elf can stave off the ravages of aging for longer, but the end result is usually just an extra century of life. The Grigialfr, or “Grey Elves,” are the dominant elven ethnic group of the region that they lend their name to (deja vu? yes, the rest is different though). Their skin is rather ashy on average, with hair colors ranging from black to white. Many bear residual scars from childhood exposure to the region’s many endemic diseases, transmitted by mosquitoes and other pests that thrive in stagnant waters. In spite of this troublesome environment, the region’s inhabitable stretches are still heavily populated by a great number of hardy folk who are more than happy to support those who are less fortunate than them. As this ethos would imply, Grigialf society is dominated by an assortment of communes which have been unable to produce a unifying figure. Historic attempts to achieve a higher level of organization are usually limited to a local region due to the difficulties of exerting authority over the entire jungle, a flaw which became glaringly obvious when the duty of defending Grigialfheim against Chancellor Eydis’ onslaught was foisted upon an unprepared elder, the respected First Fisherman of Velafloa, out of a misplaced reverence for seniority. Indeed, this is one of the few hierarchies the Grigialfr subscribe to throughout the entire region, as those who survive the epidemics the longest are sure to have accumulated the best knowledge. As such, the defense against the Fiorids was only truly effective in the guerrilla stage, though it was too little too late. The garb and textiles of the Grigialfr are relatively mundane, the perilous conditions of their jungle requiring a more utilitarian approach which resulted in the regrettable displacement of traditional woven-leaf attire sometime in the seventh century. Instead they seek to do what they can to protect from toxic waters and the predation of insects, treading the fine line between covering as many vulnerable areas as possible and avoiding the pitfalls of overdressing in a hot and humid jungle. Overalls are the most common piece of attire, useful for work both on land and at sea, whether made of domestic materials or imported rubber from Verdalfheim. Leisure activities commonly emphasize physicality, leading to the proliferation of many informal sports. Southern Durats Forming a narrow majority in the city of Rattoheim and holding a minority presence throughout much of the region’s south, a sizable Durat population has lived within the bounds of Grigialfheim for over a thousand years. The primary point of schism with Burtzlund goes back to the construction of the Great Cathedral and its Megapod, viewed as an unnatural abomination for the artificiality of its consciousness based on two mutually exclusive fears: if its overall will remained unchanged then it would be a subjugator of Durat minds rather than a partnership, and if its overall will bent to the whims of its inductees it could too easily fall to malice. It is ultimately up for debate whether or not these fears were justified, but this initial schism prompted the most voluminous exodus of Durat Pods into Grigialfheim and would serve as the foundation for future waves of arrivals as sectarian relations normalized. Today Durat engineering crews serve crucial roles on ship crews or as village electricians, a welcome presence among the Grigialf majority. Resources Summary: Resource: Ryban Fish (Meats and Animal Products) Desired Import: Medicine and Drugs Fluff: It would take months to tally up the total number of fishing villages along the coastline of Grigialfheim, then several more years to tally the fishing vessels. From massive mechanized trawlers to personal canoes, every family has some amount of investment in the fishing business, with voyages stretching as far south as the shores of Dewlad. These bountiful reserves form the backbone of the region’s diet, while still maintaining enough of a reserve to export them in vast quantities. This stage is where the ‘Ryban’ label comes into play, as marketers attempt to tap into the mysterious nature of the oceanic Rybans to heighten the allure of their products by association. This is technically incorrect, as the fishfolk have nothing to do with these catches beyond (probably) eating from the same source, but the occasional accusations of fraud by sufficiently informed parties are met with a rhetorical retreat to it being a simple geographic descriptor; the ocean between Chonkia and Dewlad, after all, is called the Ryban, though packaging for these products is always conspicuously stamped with the cartoonish image of a limbed fish standing upright and wielding a spear. Abundant food, however, is not enough to defend against disease. The mosquitos and parasites of the Velenomyri are constantly venturing outwards from their domain, spreading all manner of vile toxins among the populace. Hospitals, not temples, are the key fixture of villages in this blighted land, and what few medicinal herbs can be extracted from the cleaner portions of the jungle are consumed rapidly. There is no risk of an emergent humanitarian crisis in Grigialfheim, as it has been in the midst of one for as long as anyone can remember. Some external source of medicine- anything at all, even painkillers- would go a long way towards fixing the land. Faith Kinites - Majority The prophet Kinus is an obscure figure dated to some point after the War of Eternal Bombardments who made a name for themself by meditating at the foot of the space elevator for years on end, supposedly without food or water (though certain preserved dialogues featuring them and their preexisting disciples imply that Kinus had a support network which would have kept them supplied). The elevator, rendered physically inert by the War, was compelled by their sheer force of will to assume a new role as the Thought Elevator, delivering new ideas of a higher plane into Kinus’ voracious mind. Once all was known, they rose and spoke the truth: “Suffering and abundance are both native to the world, let not one distract from the other.” This aphorism, for whatever reason, has become the mantra of the Kinites, an itinerant order descended from Kinus’ original disciples performing minor miracles of healing and feeding the needy along their meandering path. Thus the Kinites themselves have become the true objects of adoration and reverence, while the story of Kinus themself only holds weight as a contextualizing story. Still, the most popular shrine at Cosmonal is a statue to Kinus at the site where they meditated, just a couple yards outside the Space Elevator's once-functional doors. Region 35: Lillalfheim Geography Overview: Land’s End Lillalfheim, sometimes styled as Dejanheim or South Verdalfheim by nationalists south or north of the border (respectively), fluctuates between a state of political unity and fragmentation over a course of centuries. Its geographical boundaries have been well-defined for millennia, as the peninsula is surrounded on three sides by the Ryban ocean and distinguished from Verdalfheim in the north by the Mezzavegg, the stretch of highland segregating the northern rainforests from the lands of the south. Thanks to the peninsular nature of Lillalfheim, exposure to seaborne winds from so many fronts has resulted in the region being notably more temperate than its neighbors. Much of the region is still forested, but not so thoroughly that the entire landscape is choked by arboreal mass. The central plateaus can sport grasslands rich with the region’s iconic lilacs in some places, though the western coastline is dominated by a mountainous ridge (as with the west coast of Verdalfheim) which stretches all the way down to the peninsula’s tip. The one major exception to this rule is the river valley in which the city of Santa Dejan is nestled, the only major population center on the west coast. The eastern lowlands, by contrast, are much more populous, sporting significant navigable river systems and a handful of major metropolitan areas. The cities of Lillalfheim are ordered in a circular fashion, as is the great hallmark of elven material culture, hewn from a cream-tinted limestone. Of the eastern cities, Dejanborg and Dejanstrond have been the most fractious members of Lillalfheim’s intermittent federative periods, each claiming to be the prime player in the region’s foundational mythos (see: Faith). Metanni is notable for having the center of its wheel-structure in the middle of a river, sprawling across both banks of its river with a series of lavish bridges stitching the metropolis together. Mezzavegg The highland border between Lillalfheim and Verdalfheim has long been contested ground, with a diverse array of warlords from both regions trying and failing to spread their influence to the other side. Nordvorn, Lillalfheim’s only true Citadel, was constructed in the 1500s by the era’s reigning federation behind the region’s northernmost river in order to serve as a redundant line of defense should any overambitious Verdalfr lords came calling. This center of military power was steadily able to project its control across the river and establish numerous fortifications along the Mezzavegg, creating such a daunting roadblock that the unitary campaigns of Larus dei Fiori did not dare strike southwards. Of course, in recent decades the region’s unity has broken down and Nordvorn was left without sufficient funds to secure their northern flank, a fatal mistake rendered abundantly apparent once the old foe’s grandson, Arni dei Fiori, arrived with an army of his own. Sudberg This island off the southern coast stands as the remnant of a bygone age, sparsely populated and yet home to countless sites of religious and historical importance. The Lillalfr mostly run small fishing hamlets and tourist traps along the northern and western coast, while the rest of the area is home to surprisingly peaceful and outgoing Rybans (see: People). The local architectural centerpiece, Pacehild, was a citadel built of sea rock in an ancient era to guard against the Ryban menace. The legendary saint Dejan later repurposed this icon of war into one of peace, erecting a great monument at its centerpiece depicting himself (sculpted in elven fashion, though it is unclear whether he was one) shaking hands with a Ryban. Seismic activity has weakened the structure’s foundations over the course of millenia, flooding much of the citadel, though the statue remains iconic to all sailors that ply these waters. People Lillalfr Elvenkind has always held a significant presence on Sansar, though divided into numerous different ethnic groups. Compared to the average human, the average elf possesses more angular features and pointed ears; beyond this, the physical difference is minimal. Stereotypes about their long lifespans hold some degree of truth, for the average elf can stave off the ravages of aging for longer, but the end result is usually just an extra century of life. The Lillalfr, or “Lilac Elves,” are the dominant elven ethnic group of the region that they lend their name to (bedrock foundation is still the same as other writeups; the devil is always in the details). Their skin is typically bronzed and their hair can range in shade from orange to blue, usually allowed to grow long and tied back (or up) into buns. Their nickname comes from the lilac flowers that many will distill into clothing dye or weave into their hair buns. The Lillalfr have always been a seafaring people, producing a long legacy of great explorers from their myriad coastal cities. These competing legacies have engendered strong regionalist tendencies, in which bombastic Mayors will compete over who can claim the most historical figures for themselves. None is so valuable as Dejan, the legendary Saint from deep within the annals of local mythohistory. He is said to have established the first regional federation, uniting the squabbling elven city-states against a grave threat from the oceanic depths. Dejan’s federation collapsed in the wake of his disappearance, but the sheer power of his legacy has been enough to motivate several resurrections throughout the ages, though each only tends to last a century or three at most. The Sixteenth Federation is the most recent, which operated under a council system in which the four major metropolises formed the security board, and in the years prior to the establishment of the Elect this board descended into chaos as a fight erupted between Dejanborg and Dejanstrond. This internecine conflict, ultimately, is what doomed the region to military defeat. The most impressive pieces of Lillalf material culture are their sail ships, fashioned of orange wood and bearing great triangular lilac sails. Though rendered increasingly obsolete with each passing year, ships are still constructed in this fashion and used to ply the seas in their own modest way. Sails also form the backbone of many leisure activities, including hang-gliding and wind-surfing. Textiles are composed primarily of lilac-dyed cotton, while dietary staples include fish and rice. Family units are rigidly organized, a legacy of the now-atrophied militarism instilled by Dejan, and courtship consists of a series of highly-specific steps involving bouquets for each step of the way. Land-Rybans Though the mysterious Rybans, fishfolk grown to humanoid size while bearing spindly arms and legs, are a consistent disturbance along the coasts of southern Chonkia and northern Dewlad, Lillalfheim is unique in the extent to which they have influenced the local culture. They play a pivotal role in the region’s mythology, while an amphibious subset has come to live along the region’s more sparsely-populated stretches of coast. Their greatest population center is Sudberg, especially the half-sunken Citadel of Pacehild, whose inclusion in regional federations has been inconsistent through the ages. They may initially seem less culturally and technologically advanced than their elven cohabitants, sporting spears as their weapons of choice and residing in huts hewn from coral, but these rudimentary practices belie their firm prowess in battle. Their ‘spears’ have been augmented over time to fire deadly laser beams, while particularly mentally potent Rybans have mastered the arcane art of hydromancy. However, owing to their shared reverence for Dejan, the two peoples have little reason to come into active conflict. Resources Summary: Resource: Dejan Mustard (Spices) Desired Import: Industrial Machinery Fluff: In addition to the bounty of the sea, Lillalfheim’s lowlands and plateaus support a wide range of agriculture, with fields of cotton and rice rising up from the midst of wild-growing lilacs. It’s highly peculiar, then, that the region’s largest export franchise is a mere condiment. Dejan Mustard is a branding miracle, as the successful synergy of the Saint’s name with the corporate product turned it into an overnight staple of Lillalf cuisine. Large surpluses are informally shipped to restaurants across Sansar, the packaging’s trademark lightning bolt insignia known far and wide, though the corporation that manages production eagerly seeks out proper foreign investment. An unfortunate byproduct of Lillalfheim’s ancient seafaring traditions is the parallel age of their dockyards. Suggesting wholesale demolition of a pier famed for half a dozen different legendary voyages is a form of political suicide, a lesson learned the hard way by a Mayor of Santa Dejan who once attempted to demolish the Sealion’s Jetty to make room for larger craft. If the ports can’t be replaced then they might as well be upgraded, but the region’s civic authorities lack the resources to install modern cranes and unloading equipment. The acquisition of such heavy machinery would go a long way towards reconciling the foundations of the past with the structures of the present. Faith The Epic of Dejan Though not given religious reverence by all Lillalfr, the Epic of Dejan is their foundational cultural myth, detailing his involvement in the formation of the First Federation and a war with the enigmatic Deep King of the ancient Rybans. Though the historiographic standing of this narrative is shaky, its resonance is enough for Dejan to be regarded as the region’s patron saint. Below is a summary of the esoteric tale, the intricacies of which have been hotly debated for thousands of years. It is said that he appeared one day in a thunderstorm, zapping into being fully-formed but charred and infirm. His first disciple, a woman named Elva, took him into her home and nursed him back to health, but he spurned her romantic advances and instead set his sites to the world around him. In those days, Lillalfheim feared the fishfolk scourge above all else, subject to constant raids at the behest of their ever-covetous Deep King. Acting first from selfish ambition, Dejan spoke of the terrifying threat and insisted that the elves fall in line behind him, ambition hidden behind a mask of fear. But fearful followers were ill fortune on the shores of battle, from whence they fled when the Deep King himself rode into the warlord’s camp upon a wave of bloodied seafoam. Elva then sacrificed herself to save Dejan, placing herself between the warlord and the Deep King’s blade. He did not adore her as she adored him, but still mourned the loss of his first ally. Acting now from righteous anger, Dejan set about gathering a force by appealing to courage instead of fear. One by one the Lillalfr bowed to his will, enthroning him as the only monarch that Lillalfheim would ever know, as he trained his subjects to stand strong in the face of danger. The second time he went to the shore, he called the Deep King out with a great horn of coral. When his monstrous rival rose to the challenge, he brought his piscine horde with him, and Dejan saw in their bulbous eyes the same fear that had consumed his first militia. Terror was the way of the Deep King, inflicted upon all behind and before him, so Dejan challenged him to single combat so that the rest of the army might be spared. The waves themselves conspired to be the warlord’s end, thrashing and reeling with a fury twice as potent as the boundless sort which poured from the Deep King, but in the end Dejan stood triumphant over his rival. Now Dejan leveled a finger against the Deep King. "I know you, foe, thou of Rieba born, and condemn you to resume my place. Your hunger shall be without end, your line even more so. You shall inherit a land rich in a wealth which your offspring will not understand, their vision confined to the pain of loss as it is stolen away. Two of your descendants shall bear reigns of glory, one to end in ash and one to end in blood, and then the rest shall be nothing. Pawns in a game which they once ruled, as is your fate now. Begone." The bolt was swift, its judgment final; a smoldering stain remained where the Deep King had stood, and the other scions of Reiba knelt in awe afore the new King. Thus was peace made between the Lillalfr and Riebans, Dejan enthroned above all. Thus did the master of war become also the master of peace. Dejan was the first to bestow this name upon the oceanic fishfolk, ‘Rieban’ shifting to ‘Ryban’ on elven tongues in the centuries after he vanished. With two armies at his back, Dejan could have been master of the world, but demurred in contemplation for five full years. When he called his generals to him to deliver his commandments, a lightning bolt struck the tent from a cloudless sky; Dejan was gone, the mysteries of his nature unsolved to this day. Still, in awe of his story and the unity he fostered between the Lillalfr and Rybans, Dejan is universally regarded as a Saint and thus his name is said to lend power to those who wield it. Thunderbolt Ascension - PluralityThe creed of Thunderbolt Ascension represents a religionization of Dejan’s tale, understanding the miracle of the tent to have been Dejan’s moment of apotheosis. A mystery cult sprung up in its wake seeking to replicate the conditions of his ascent, which has steadily grown over the centuries to become the most relevant religious force in Lillalfheim. It falls short of total dominance because many Lillalfr find it distasteful to attempt to become equal to the vaunted Saint, but it still enjoys a healthy rate of growth on account of their community-oriented militia training sessions. The so-called ‘Son of Dejan’ who pushed through the council’s gridlock to stand against the Fiorid advance was one such adherent, though when the time came to show his mettle he proved unworthy of his chosen title.

Cast of Characters Name Class/Role Summary List of Appearances Visual Aid (Heroforge) Prince Isak dei Fiori Royal, de jure Head of State Legal sovereign, responsible for spreading the Fiorid Elder Blood among the nobility. Withdrew from public life after the death of his wife. WIP Hekla dei Fiori Royal, courtier First child of Prince Isak, paralyzed from the waist down and wheelchair-bound. Frequent event attendant, calculating but quietly exhausted with life. WIP WIP General-Royal Arni dei Fiori Royal, military commander Second child of Prince Isak, half of face+chest withered and masked. Colossal ego, loves war and bloodshed, by far the most violent Verdalf. WIP WIP Chancellor Eydis dei Fiori Royal, de facto Head of State Third child of Prince Isak, body covered in hornlike growths. Stepped up to manage the country in her father's place, bitter and utilitarian. Keeps the others in line. WIP WIP Hinrik dei Fiori Royal, courtier Fourth child of Prince Isak, no right arm (replaced with prosthetic). Eager to grasp the reins of power but feckless in the event. Sansar Unitarist, despises offworlders. WIP WIP Lilja dei Fiori Royal, courtier Fifth child of Prince Isak, blind. Quiet and reserved, but displays enthusiasm when conversing; terrified of impending disaster and manipulates anything she can to avert it. WIP WIP Oskar dei Fiori Royal, courtier Sixth child of Prince Isak, crippling leprosy averted by grafting reptilian skin DNA in-utero. Connivingly ambitious, utterly fixated on Sansar's Moon. Wears glasses. WIP WIP Holger Druid, researcher Portly Druid fixated on the Verdalf valuation of life. WIP Synne Druid, researcher Aged Druid fixated on preserving Verdalf culture. WIP Vegard Druid, researcher Wispy Druid fixated on unravelling the mystery of arcane power. WIP Karla Marrone Druid, MSQ Abductee Formerly head of researching souls, disappeared upon proposing a subversive theory. Later reemerged in the custody of the Iron Masquerade. WIP Sten Slave, court aide Palace attendant at the Elven Conclave. Surprisingly interested in architecture. WIP Clemens della Palude Noble, rubber planter Prime Marcus' Noble interviewee. WIP Brita Fabbro Slave, palace gardener Prime Marcus' first Slave interviewee. WIP Joar d'Altosteinn Slave, oil worker Prime Marcus' second Slave interviewee. WIP Alfred Marrone Noble, author Author of House of Flowers: on the Origins of the Fiorid Line, among others. WIP Sir Simon of Veehra Intruder, author (deceased) Vampire Hunter who authored an unpublished screed against the Fiorid Elder Blood. Both he and the text (Hekla has it) have been missing for some time. WIP Erna dei Fiori Royal, Isak's wife (deceased) Prince Isak's wife, mother to all of the current Dynasts. Died under suspicious circumstances. WIP Prince Larus dei Fiori Royal, deceased HoS Prince Isak's father, conquered all of Verdalfheim in the 1700s. Died of health complications. WIP Prince Stian dei Fiori Royal, deceased HoS Fiorid ancestor, built the dynastic power base. Had good relations with the Imperial Court. WIP Princess Tonje dei Fiori Royal, deceased HoS Fiorid ancestor, legendary founder of the Principality through shrewd defensive tactics. WIP Rakel dei Fiori rumored May or may not have been born around the time of Erna's death, may or may not be hidden away in the Palace catacombs, may or may not have killed Sir Simon. WIP

Region 35: Lillalfheim Geography Overview: Land’s End Lillalfheim, sometimes styled as Dejanheim or South Verdalfheim by nationalists south or north of the border (respectively), fluctuates between a state of political unity and fragmentation over a course of centuries. Its geographical boundaries have been well-defined for millennia, as the peninsula is surrounded on three sides by the Ryban ocean and distinguished from Verdalfheim in the north by the Mezzavegg, the stretch of highland segregating the northern rainforests from the lands of the south. Thanks to the peninsular nature of Lillalfheim, exposure to seaborne winds from so many fronts has resulted in the region being notably more temperate than its neighbors. Much of the region is still forested, but not so thoroughly that the entire landscape is choked by arboreal mass. The central plateaus can sport grasslands rich with the region’s iconic lilacs in some places, though the western coastline is dominated by a mountainous ridge (as with the west coast of Verdalfheim) which stretches all the way down to the peninsula’s tip. The one major exception to this rule is the river valley in which the city of Santa Dejan is nestled, the only major population center on the west coast. The eastern lowlands, by contrast, are much more populous, sporting significant navigable river systems and a handful of major metropolitan areas. The cities of Lillalfheim are ordered in a circular fashion, as is the great hallmark of elven material culture, hewn from a cream-tinted limestone. Of the eastern cities, Dejanborg and Dejanstrond have been the most fractious members of Lillalfheim’s intermittent federative periods, each claiming to be the prime player in the region’s foundational mythos (see: Faith). Metanni is notable for having the center of its wheel-structure in the middle of a river, sprawling across both banks of its river with a series of lavish bridges stitching the metropolis together. Mezzavegg The highland border between Lillalfheim and Verdalfheim has long been contested ground, with a diverse array of warlords from both regions trying and failing to spread their influence to the other side. Nordvorn, Lillalfheim’s only true Citadel, was constructed in the 1500s by the era’s reigning federation behind the region’s northernmost river in order to serve as a redundant line of defense should any overambitious Verdalfr lords came calling. This center of military power was steadily able to project its control across the river and establish numerous fortifications along the Mezzavegg, creating such a daunting roadblock that the unitary campaigns of Larus dei Fiori did not dare strike southwards. Of course, in recent decades the region’s unity has broken down and Nordvorn was left without sufficient funds to secure their northern flank, a fatal mistake rendered abundantly apparent once the old foe’s grandson, Arni dei Fiori, arrived with an army of his own. Sudberg This island off the southern coast stands as the remnant of a bygone age, sparsely populated and yet home to countless sites of religious and historical importance. The Lillalfr mostly run small fishing hamlets and tourist traps along the northern and western coast, while the rest of the area is home to surprisingly peaceful and outgoing Rybans (see: People). The local architectural centerpiece, Pacehild, was a citadel built of sea rock in an ancient era to guard against the Ryban menace. The legendary saint Dejan later repurposed this icon of war into one of peace, erecting a great monument at its centerpiece depicting himself (sculpted in elven fashion, though it is unclear whether he was one) shaking hands with a Ryban. Seismic activity has weakened the structure’s foundations over the course of millenia, flooding much of the citadel, though the statue remains iconic to all sailors that ply these waters. People Lillalfr Elvenkind has always held a significant presence on Sansar, though divided into numerous different ethnic groups. Compared to the average human, the average elf possesses more angular features and pointed ears; beyond this, the physical difference is minimal. Stereotypes about their long lifespans hold some degree of truth, for the average elf can stave off the ravages of aging for longer, but the end result is usually just an extra century of life. The Lillalfr, or “Lilac Elves,” are the dominant elven ethnic group of the region that they lend their name to (bedrock foundation is still the same as other writeups; the devil is always in the details). Their skin is typically bronzed and their hair can range in shade from orange to blue, usually allowed to grow long and tied back (or up) into buns. Their nickname comes from the lilac flowers that many will distill into clothing dye or weave into their hair buns. The Lillalfr have always been a seafaring people, producing a long legacy of great explorers from their myriad coastal cities. These competing legacies have engendered strong regionalist tendencies, in which bombastic Mayors will compete over who can claim the most historical figures for themselves. None is so valuable as Dejan, the legendary Saint from deep within the annals of local mythohistory. He is said to have established the first regional federation, uniting the squabbling elven city-states against a grave threat from the oceanic depths. Dejan’s federation collapsed in the wake of his disappearance, but the sheer power of his legacy has been enough to motivate several resurrections throughout the ages, though each only tends to last a century or three at most. The Sixteenth Federation is the most recent, which operated under a council system in which the four major metropolises formed the security board, and in the years prior to the establishment of the Elect this board descended into chaos as a fight erupted between Dejanborg and Dejanstrond. This internecine conflict, ultimately, is what doomed the region to military defeat. The most impressive pieces of Lillalf material culture are their sail ships, fashioned of orange wood and bearing great triangular lilac sails. Though rendered increasingly obsolete with each passing year, ships are still constructed in this fashion and used to ply the seas in their own modest way. Sails also form the backbone of many leisure activities, including hang-gliding and wind-surfing. Textiles are composed primarily of lilac-dyed cotton, while dietary staples include fish and rice. Family units are rigidly organized, a legacy of the now-atrophied militarism instilled by Dejan, and courtship consists of a series of highly-specific steps involving bouquets for each step of the way. Land-Rybans Though the mysterious Rybans, fishfolk grown to humanoid size while bearing spindly arms and legs, are a consistent disturbance along the coasts of southern Chonkia and northern Dewlad, Lillalfheim is unique in the extent to which they have influenced the local culture. They play a pivotal role in the region’s mythology, while an amphibious subset has come to live along the region’s more sparsely-populated stretches of coast. Their greatest population center is Sudberg, especially the half-sunken Citadel of Pacehild, whose inclusion in regional federations has been inconsistent through the ages. They may initially seem less culturally and technologically advanced than their elven cohabitants, sporting spears as their weapons of choice and residing in huts hewn from coral, but these rudimentary practices belie their firm prowess in battle. Their ‘spears’ have been augmented over time to fire deadly laser beams, while particularly mentally potent Rybans have mastered the arcane art of hydromancy. However, owing to their shared reverence for Dejan, the two peoples have little reason to come into active conflict. Resources Summary: Resource: Dejan Mustard (Spices) Desired Import: Industrial Machinery Fluff: In addition to the bounty of the sea, Lillalfheim’s lowlands and plateaus support a wide range of agriculture, with fields of cotton and rice rising up from the midst of wild-growing lilacs. It’s highly peculiar, then, that the region’s largest export franchise is a mere condiment. Dejan Mustard is a branding miracle, as the successful synergy of the Saint’s name with the corporate product turned it into an overnight staple of Lillalf cuisine. Large surpluses are informally shipped to restaurants across Sansar, the packaging’s trademark lightning bolt insignia known far and wide, though the corporation that manages production eagerly seeks out proper foreign investment. An unfortunate byproduct of Lillalfheim’s ancient seafaring traditions is the parallel age of their dockyards. Suggesting wholesale demolition of a pier famed for half a dozen different legendary voyages is a form of political suicide, a lesson learned the hard way by a Mayor of Santa Dejan who once attempted to demolish the Sealion’s Jetty to make room for larger craft. If the ports can’t be replaced then they might as well be upgraded, but the region’s civic authorities lack the resources to install modern cranes and unloading equipment. The acquisition of such heavy machinery would go a long way towards reconciling the foundations of the past with the structures of the present. Faith The Epic of Dejan Though not given religious reverence by all Lillalfr, the Epic of Dejan is their foundational cultural myth, detailing his involvement in the formation of the First Federation and a war with the enigmatic Deep King of the ancient Rybans. Though the historiographic standing of this narrative is shaky, its resonance is enough for Dejan to be regarded as the region’s patron saint. Below is a summary of the esoteric tale, the intricacies of which have been hotly debated for thousands of years. It is said that he appeared one day in a thunderstorm, zapping into being fully-formed but charred and infirm. His first disciple, a woman named Elva, took him into her home and nursed him back to health, but he spurned her romantic advances and instead set his sites to the world around him. In those days, Lillalfheim feared the fishfolk scourge above all else, subject to constant raids at the behest of their ever-covetous Deep King. Acting first from selfish ambition, Dejan spoke of the terrifying threat and insisted that the elves fall in line behind him, ambition hidden behind a mask of fear. But fearful followers were ill fortune on the shores of battle, from whence they fled when the Deep King himself rode into the warlord’s camp upon a wave of bloodied seafoam. Elva then sacrificed herself to save Dejan, placing herself between the warlord and the Deep King’s blade. He did not adore her as she adored him, but still mourned the loss of his first ally. Acting now from righteous anger, Dejan set about gathering a force by appealing to courage instead of fear. One by one the Lillalfr bowed to his will, enthroning him as the only monarch that Lillalfheim would ever know, as he trained his subjects to stand strong in the face of danger. The second time he went to the shore, he called the Deep King out with a great horn of coral. When his monstrous rival rose to the challenge, he brought his piscine horde with him, and Dejan saw in their bulbous eyes the same fear that had consumed his first militia. Terror was the way of the Deep King, inflicted upon all behind and before him, so Dejan challenged him to single combat so that the rest of the army might be spared. The waves themselves conspired to be the warlord’s end, thrashing and reeling with a fury twice as potent as the boundless sort which poured from the Deep King, but in the end Dejan stood triumphant over his rival. Now Dejan leveled a finger against the Deep King. "I know you, foe, thou of Rieba born, and condemn you to resume my place. Your hunger shall be without end, your line even more so. You shall inherit a land rich in a wealth which your offspring will not understand, their vision confined to the pain of loss as it is stolen away. Two of your descendants shall bear reigns of glory, one to end in ash and one to end in blood, and then the rest shall be nothing. Pawns in a game which they once ruled, as is your fate now. Begone." The bolt was swift, its judgment final; a smoldering stain remained where the Deep King had stood, and the other scions of Reiba knelt in awe afore the new King. Thus was peace made between the Lillalfr and Riebans, Dejan enthroned above all. Thus did the master of war become also the master of peace. Dejan was the first to bestow this name upon the oceanic fishfolk, ‘Rieban’ shifting to ‘Ryban’ on elven tongues in the centuries after he vanished. With two armies at his back, Dejan could have been master of the world, but demurred in contemplation for five full years. When he called his generals to him to deliver his commandments, a lightning bolt struck the tent from a cloudless sky; Dejan was gone, the mysteries of his nature unsolved to this day. Still, in awe of his story and the unity he fostered between the Lillalfr and Rybans, Dejan is universally regarded as a Saint and thus his name is said to lend power to those who wield it. Thunderbolt Ascension - PluralityThe creed of Thunderbolt Ascension represents a religionization of Dejan’s tale, understanding the miracle of the tent to have been Dejan’s moment of apotheosis. A mystery cult sprung up in its wake seeking to replicate the conditions of his ascent, which has steadily grown over the centuries to become the most relevant religious force in Lillalfheim. It falls short of total dominance because many Lillalfr find it distasteful to attempt to become equal to the vaunted Saint, but it still enjoys a healthy rate of growth on account of their community-oriented militia training sessions. The so-called ‘Son of Dejan’ who pushed through the council’s gridlock to stand against the Fiorid advance was one such adherent, though when the time came to show his mettle he proved unworthy of his chosen title.

Fiorid Principality of Verdalfheim (ALF), Round Five 2046-2048 Chancellor Eydis dei Fiori Dip: 6 | Mil: 7 | Eco: 6 | Fai: 2 | Int: 2 Stat Gains: +1 Dip, +1 Eco Actions [Diplomacy] Sway Government Faction of Lillalfheim, Region 35 (TN 12 (owned region); Roll: 16; SUCCESS) The imposition of absolute monarchy upon a region which has no substantial history with the ideology is an arduous task, yet one for which the Fiorid Principality is unprepared. The conclusions of the committee organized by Chancellor Eydis revolve around the simple task of identifying and subordinating existing positions of power which have parallels in the Verdalf system while elevating vaguely upper-class individuals to any nonextant classes. For Lillalfheim, the subordination of its mayors is an easy thing, as they are encouraged to meet and mingle with their Verdalf counterparts to understand the new expectations and privileges they hold. [Diplomacy] Sway Government Faction of Grigialfheim, Region 51 (TN 12 (owned region); Roll: 16; SUCCESS) The greatest test of this theory is Grigialfheim, formerly anarchic to a fault. The few major mayors are brought into the fold with no real trouble, but the huge number of smaller villages with no organized hierarchy poses a substantial obstacle. In their case, the medicinal grants to regional hospitals are leveraged to log a proper census of taxpaying communities, while village elders contacted and encouraged to elevate their status within the new regime by partaking in slavery to join the ranks of the Nobility. [Economy] Colonize Region 100 (TN 12; Roll: 8; CRIT FAILURE) Begrudgingly committed to the Committee of Lunar Inquiry's interests, the Chancellor authorizes massive expansions to the Principality's foothold on Aridyin. A full half of the lunar surface is targeted in one fell swoop, though the ostensible focal point, the great Eye of the Moon, is witness to several embarrassing disasters. The first attempted landing, that of a poorly-prepared astronaut named Simen, sees him fail to read his displays in time to successfully decelerate, resulting in a cataclysmic crash into the lunar surface. Charged with mounting a rescue operation (though chances of survival were near-zero), his astronautical successor, Dunkan, is able to read the displays but interprets the instructions incorrectly, rapidly pressing the 'decelerate' button instead of holding it as instructed. A third, Ljodhhus, attempts to 'rescue' both certainly-dead astronauts, but despite successfully landing he somehow forgot to fill his oxygen tanks and perished in short order. The Principality does its best to sweep this abysmal event under the rug, inviting the Glix to pick up where they left off as per their contractual agreement. [Economy] Colonize Region 102 (TN 12; Roll: 13; SUCCESS) Mercifully, the attempt to secure the northern hemisphere of the moon goes far smoother than the debacle in the Eye. Despite certain elements within the dei Fiori family advocating to ignore them entirely, Chancellor Eydis issues a public statement that the White Pawns will (eventually) be compensated for their role in exploring the region. The ultimate worthwhileness of this endeavor is still up for debate, however, as settlers report ambiguous feelings of unease throughout their tenure. It is truly fortunate that the Arkhive gave us access to Aclaustrophobic Psychiatry in order to mitigate the feelings, but this sinister influence persists even in the face of perfect mental health. Oskar is monitoring this particular situation closely. [Military] Raise a Land Unit A quiet (yet foreseeable) expansion of the Verdalf military is conducted with volunteer troops from Grigialfheim and Lillalfheim. New equipment is manufactured to accommodate them, with one peculiar addition: sealed suits for combat outside the Sansarite atmosphere. All existing divisions are augmented with similar options, the implications for the future abundantly obvious to anyone paying attention. Nonactions Trade Route with RAT: -n/a Deliver the Results of the Conclave of 2044 Rulings Within Honorable Mentions: Though the Bloodlord's engagement in the freeform cross-examination was stellar, he made it clear in the course of his presentation that the Unapproachable Bloodfather's () creed would be unlikely to spread (and, ultimately, expressed favor for the Imperial Cult). The Ancestral Queens () and Hundred Hands of the Soul () are compelling local traditions, but evidently lack the capacity or will to spread themselves within a burgeoning stellar power (the former even expressing support for Coedd). Slingid the Parrot (), meanwhile, is simply the worst (also they probably won't actually move to convert). Mother Serpent () and Soul's Expression (/), though promising, did not respond to their introduction questions. If answers are completed and posted in the Conclave event thread, their status will be upgraded accordingly. Tier 3: Support to Minority Rank in one Owned Region Many faiths professing the innate power of the individual to influence the arcane energies around them gave their speeches, each impressive in their own right. Practica Arcanai (), the Cult of the Mind (), and the Forever Self () are each invited to establish an academy within the Principality, selecting a region that best fits their disposition. As an example, the medically-inclined United Houses of Senkar may be interested in ministering to the perpetually-sick denizens of Grigialfheim (Region 51), supplementing our hospitals with their own particular sort of knowledge. Tier 2: Support to Minority Rank in all Owned Regions Coedd () has made its presence on Sansar into a fact of life, and though their views on death are suspect they provide an invaluable service in restoring the environment of war-torn regions. In respect for the planetary community, the faithful of Coedd will receive support in their activities so long as they do not endeavor to exceed their naturalist mandate. Tier 1: Unconditional Support The Imperial Cult () could not have arrived at a better time, providing a clear path to reconciling our reverence for the Emperor with the injustices imposed by his Court. Ophon is the Emperor, omnipresent and omnipotent, dominant in both material and spiritual matters, the axis around which all the universe revolves. Its Court may err; its light, however, is eternal. (I'm sincerely grateful to everyone who came to my event regardless of how the final rankings turned out. This is the first real eventI tried to host one in E2 but it was the last round and literally nobody had the energy to show up lol I've hosted for Empire despite having been involved with it for over a decade, I was always afraid that I'd screw it up or people would be bored, but to see this one work out so well has been really good for my self-worth. It's not the best event ever, but it doesn't have to be; I'm frankly stunned that it got as far as it did and thankful to everyone who helped it happen. <3) Grant support to the contestants in accordance with their verdicts (not like I actually control the necessary media supports though lol): -Support one conversion each from BAF, CUS, and UHS -Support attempts to introduce minorities in all owned regions from COE and ARK -Support all conversions from HOB and LSP (Specifically LSP conversion in region 36) News & Rumors Though the Fiorid government unequivocally condemns Esridor's attempt to steal Aridyin away from its rightful claimants, in private it seems that Chancellor Eydis is utterly fed up with Oskar's nonsense. Of all the overreaches to occur during her absence, his was by far the most egregious, and now the government is bound to his personal whim in order to avoid appearing as if it has backed down from a stated goal. Were it not for the privilege of his birth he would likely be cast out of government entirely, but Eydis enjoys no such luxury. Much to her relief, however, Oskar seems preoccupied with ruminating with the Druids upon the nature of his findings at the Conclave of 2044, keeping him and his pretensions away from the true levers of power. Despite his claims of having received permission ahead of time, the publication of Prime Marcus' report comes as a surprise to nearly everyone who wasn't interviewed, while the interviewees are similarly stunned that nobody in the government seems to have known about it. Upon reviewing records on her own time, Eydis notices that permission was indeed given, though it becomes troublesome to discern exactly who was responsible. One day, however, the inquiry evaporates as quickly as it began, with the Chancellor stonewalling any curious parties as to her progress. It's obvious that she identified the leak, but evidently views silence as the more opportune course of action, especially considering the report's nominally favorable findings. The cataclysmic assault on the holdings of the Basu-Rahman Group shock and appall the residents of the Principality, making up for any ill taste left by their insensitivities. Had such action been inflicted upon the overmighty Union it may have made some sense, but such wanton destruction for such petty transgressions leaves all hands uneasy. Even the Jy'mar and Khylokians, two groups which made unfavorable first impressions but have since come to deal favorably with the Fiorid state, are looked upon with renewed uncertainty in light of their participation in this undertaking. The reemergence of Karla Marrone in Narsai has been ponderously muttered about for some time amidst the halls of the Nobility, but her elevation to Iron Monarch makes it an increasingly difficult topic to handwave. Faced with incontrovertible evidence that an elf- one of the vaunted Druids, no less- was forcibly abducted for use in the Iron Masquerade's twisted game, a firm condemnation is leveled from the Chancellor's office with the added corollary that any visitors bearing documentation associated with Narsai will be detained for further scrutiny by the Principality's security forces. Bizarrely unperturbed by the aforementioned crisis, Oskar dei Fiori and the Druids have been having a field day unravelling and integrating the technologies within the Arkhive's catalogue. Though their inner workings are obtuse as ever, conspiracy theorists enamored with the 'Mystery of the Druids' feast richly on new rumors. Arcane Amplification seems to be the favorite topic, with tales abound of a quest to identify and adopt stray psions of the sort discussed by the Cult of the Mind at the recent Conclave. Talented children are said to go missing in the night, whisked away to the isle of Soleyja. Some theorize that the Druids are forming a secret corps of psionic agents, while the more outlandish believe that their abilities are being extracted and transferred to the Druids themselves. As long as Soleyja remains off-limits, none can truly say. As the Imperial Cult makes its first headway into elven society, its rites and belief system are easily blended with the traditional political mythology surrounding the Emperor; a cultural phenomenon which fascinates some among the Cult's missionaries. Elven aesthetics are primarily focused on anthropomorphic sculpture, and as such statues of all sorts of figures can be found spread throughout Verdalfheim and its subject regions. When a historical figure's ethnicity is ambiguous, as in the case of Saint Dejan of Lillalfheim, they are usually rendered as elves, but the Emperor receives a completely distinct character design. Below the head, the styling is simple enough: humanoid armor, light and elegant, laid in metal atop a stone or marble body. Upon the statue's shoulders, however, rests a great globe of glass (variably clear or chromatic), with a light source embedded in its core in order to emulate the sun. Capes are frequent fixtures, either drapes of frequently-replaced cloth or illuminated water fixtures, but on smaller (or poorer) statues they can be composed of the same material as the armor. To summarize, elven statuary of the emperor replaces his head with a representation of the sun itself; a suitable substitute for a leader so steadfast in his devotion to remaining unknowable. As for the time capsule discovered in Aridyin's western hemisphere... Honestly nobody can make heads or tails of it. The capsule and its contents are cleaned and sent to the Arkhive's museum for custodianship, accompanied by an apology for being unable to attend the Hexenniel. Bookkeeping Leaders and Military Eydis' base ruler rolls located Heir: Hinrik dei Fiori (: 2/3/4/1/1, +1mil/+1eco from Round2 actions = new core statline of 2/4/5/1/1) Expended Specials: Eydis: M5, D5 Hinrik: E5 General(s): General-Royal Arni dei Fiori (Mil Commander); +20% to enemy unit losses Ground Unit Count: 4 (+1) Space Unit Count: 2 Treasure Count: 1 (+1 passive) TP count for passive generation: 6 (+0) Controlled Regions Region Name Region Number Resource Prime Religion Minorities Desired Import Status TBD 35 Dejan Mustard Thunderbolt Ascension (Plur) - Industrial Machinery Province Verdalfheim 36 Oil - - Ores & Alloys Capital Grigialfheim 51 Ryban Fish Kinites (Maj) - Medicines & Drugs Province TBD 103 - - - Fruits & Vegetables Colony Owned Techs Type Name Requirement(s) Effect(s) From When? Starter Aclaustrophobic Psychiatry - - R4, ARK Starter Algorithmic Imagination - - R4, ARK Starter Arcane Amplification - - R4, ARK Starter In-Vivo Modification - - R4, ARK Starter Nuclear Fusion - - R4, ARK Starter Xenolinguistic Cataloguing - - R4, ARK Starter Pseudogravity Engineering - - Start Starter Badalian Megadirgibles - Permits ground unit transport across the Cloud Sea of Badal. R4, ARK Starter Wet Navy Ships - Permits ground unit transport across oceans. Start

Stage A: Debate "'Enforced' would be too strong of a word." Sighing, the portly Druid flips back to an early page of his notes. "The 'rewards' for this Conclave revolve around the extent to which a faith will be tolerated within the lands of the Principality. Regardless of our results, all participants are to receive our technical knowledge. The most ideal candidate will receive complete freedom and sponsorship to proselytize within our holdings, other favored religions will receive protected minority status, with freedom and sponsorship offered up to a certain threshold in each of our constituent regions. The judiciary panel is considering a tertiary grant for religions which, though outside the scope of our universal support, will receive support to establish a sanctioned community within a specific region of their choosing. The key to this formula is that there will be no enforcement; arguments must be made to our people in good faith, and the Nobility will retain the right to their freedom of conscience throughout." The man takes a deep breath, grounding himself after such an expenditure of air. "-Though we are assuredly not a republic." Stage B: Party & Backroom One of Eydis' eyebrows raise, and with it a rather uncomfortable-looking shelf of twisting keratin. "Then you demand only that which I have already stated you shall receive." She rises from her seat, strolling over to a wine rack beneath one of the chromatic windows and sliding a crimson vintage from its position with a contemplative frown. "...I had assumed that you would have read the dossier for yourself. My family does not drink tea, though I could order a pot to be brought up from the banquet." The Chancellor pours herself a glass, the faint odor easily recognizable to one so well-versed in blood. "Perhaps we may... review that recording in the meantime." (I'm fine with fading to black here; DM me the records pls) Hinrik shrugs casually. "I expect their sort to do as they have always done. Now I expect as much with greater certainty. It is always best to ensure that reality aligns with our expectations, wouldn't you agree?" He holds out his left hand, offering to shake on it. Stage C: Afterparty Pursing her lips and steeping her fingers, Hekla weighs each word of her response carefully. "Admittedly, I had grown weary of the day's activities, began to ponder the nature of expended time. I saw that you were tired as well and simply had a hunch as to why." Such implied calculation doesn't match the informally existentialist exasperation conveyed by her earlier tone, though the answer itself seems true enough. "We're here to extend our family's hospitality, I saw that you were alone, sought out a common trait from which to begin a conversation; merely the basic principles of being a good host."

Stage A: The Debate The suddenness and thoroughness of the Durat delegation was completely unexpected, leaving the panel in alternating states of bemusement and bafflement. For all the missteps- and the mass assault on nearly every other present delegation- one major piece of credit had to be given: it was the most akin to a real sermon. In spite of this, however, the portly Druid speaks up to deliver a series of semantic corrections. "As a reminder, we have already found our own way to deal with death; it is a cultural cornerstone which must be respected, but this assembly's intent is to collate the divine knowledge of the rest of Tekhum so that we may understand and collate the greater whole from a wide array of angles." His brow furrows in an especially dramatic fashion as he reaches this next part. "Furthermore, three of we five judges are Druids. We seek knowledge of the divine as we seek knowledge of any other force in this universe- we are by no stretch of the imagination 'abandoning' ourselves." Having said his piece, he exhales and resumes a passive expression, leaning back in his seat. Though the other two Druids don't seem to have anything to add, casting anticipatory glances between Coedd and the rodent horde, Oskar dei Fiori's scaled countenance leans forward to ask a question of his own. "To engage with the hypothetical you propose- If faith alone is what makes a god, wouldn't Coedd's claim to godhood be validated- and her potency ensured- by the faith of her worshippers? Why single her out for such an especially vicious condemnation?" Stage B: The Party & Backroom "A similar sentiment is shared by myself and the restored Chancellor, though it pains us to stand against the will of our rightful liege..." Hinrik brings his prosthetic arm up to his chin ponderously, red eyes appearing to contemplate the table, of all things. "Would you begrudge an offer of support in these times? Not a full alliance, for I assume that you would prefer a pursuit of neutrality; merely guarantees of mutual support against any hostile action pursued in the name of this unseemly legal fiction." He gestures towards Clagath, eyes rising to make contact, that omnipresent smile underscoring each ensuing word. "Should anyone move to strike against you, we will commit military support to any reprisals you might pursue, and vice-versa. I do not see this eventuality coming to pass, for the true value of such an agreement lies in deterrence. The would-be parasites already fear to act against us while we are alone, for our might is too great to overcome- I say let them fear our wrath twice over." The Chancellor's eyes narrow. "It goes without saying that none of my immediate family will partake in such an excursion. I will consult the Noble Households to see if any will be interested in such an offer; it is a foregone conclusion that some will be intrigued by the opportunity, so you will- more or less- have the hostages you seek." Eydis' shoulder seems to slump slightly under the weight of the tangled keratin, though she quickly resumes her posture with an impassive expression. "You must pardon me for being skeptical about this request for a diplomatic blank check. With my personal thanks for aiding in the resolution of this crisis in mind, many still have good reason to scorn your people's unpredictability. And for this core reason- unpredictability- such a request is untenable." Her crimson gaze rests firmly upon Omnuud, stern tone suffused by a matter-of-fact softness. "You will have our support, but it will be born from our own good will and respect for the Noble wards in your lands. Should you breach either, it will be forfeit. I have already ordered my siblings to cease in their slanders; conduct yourself well when dealing with this world and we may yet convince the rest of Sansar to do the same. Sycophancy, however, is beneath both of our polities; I believe respect and sincerity to be greater guarantees of comradery." Arni raises a cocky eyebrow- it's impossible to tell what the other is doing behind the mask. "The goddess hasn't yet." He waves a hand dismissively. "I kid, of course. No reason to bother with Dewlad, got more important fish to fry. Literally, in some cases." Seizing upon a perfect anecdote with which to demonstrate his knowledgeability, Arni snaps his fingers and grins that bizarre half-grin of his. "Actually, that's a perfect example. I've seen magic on the field before, wasn't impressed. Most of the southern peninsula is just your bog-standard civilian ranch, but around the coasts and on that southern island you can run into a bunch of weird fishmen. Can't say that they follow any gods, but some of them could control the water, make these big waves to try and slow us down. You can probably guess how that went." The royal general chuckles to himself. "I was plucking fish bones out of my mech's gears for days..." "I'll, uh, keep it in mind..." Lilja seems to have backslid into an awkward silence, her hands nervously fiddling with her guide cane. "Well... it was good to meet you." Stage C: The Afterparty "It can be... isolating, yes." Hekla's tone is slightly stilted as she scans the other royal's face for signs of any hidden agenda. After a few awkward seconds, she sighs, looking down at the ground in shame. "I shouldn't have been so dismissive. No matter what, it will always be a testament to thousands of hours of work carried out by thousands of laborers. It could only grow stale to me in the first place due to the longevity of their accomplishment." The ghost of a pleasant smile plays across her face, fading as her gaze turns to the flowers. "I shouldn't hoard the conversation so much. How goes life for your noble House?" "Why seek that conversation with me, of all people?" Moderately embarrassed, Hekla's mouth purses as she glances down at Pako's wobbly legs- as good an object of focus as any. "...I don't mind, though. Apologies for departing earlier, I was... dissatisfied with my conduct."

Stage A: Debate The judges log their notes on the response wordlessly, proceeding to the next contestant (should one arise). Stage B: Party "Honestly? I wouldn't bother at all." He casts a half-porcelain glance over to the amphitheater, smirking. "Who cares what people think about religion? Priests all bleed, and that's all I need to know. If any of these countries' petty gods mattered, they wouldn't be relying so heavily on military security." He leans over slightly, giving a coy side-whisper. "And if they don't have military security, all the better for me." He takes another sip of his drink, red eyes twinkling as he takes a step back. "The only time countries should be 'meeting' like this is on the field of battle, where those worthy to continue living are sorted from the weaklings that don't deserve to live in this world. People around here disagree with me all the time, especially that fat Druid- what was his name, Holger?- always wringing his hands out of some misplaced sympathy for the weak. It's honestly pathetic." Lilja seems to slowly lose track of the conversation as it moves into the technical specificities of knowledge transferal. In spite of this, she picks up an enthusiastic smile and nods along. "I don't tend to do much travelling, but I'll bring the suggestion up to my siblings once the time comes." Stage C: Afterparty Forgetting herself as she stares idly into her glass, Hekla allows a remnant of her prior melancholy to slip forth from bitter lips. "It loses its luster after a century or so." To her credit, the recovery is swift. As soon as her statement is complete, Hekla snaps back to attention, rotating her chair to face the Mekhalan and throwing a hasty smile across her haggard, pale visage. "Oh, where are my manners, it's a pleasure to meet you again, Duchess. Please forgive my slip of the tongue, your compliment is more than welcome. I'll be sure to pass it along to the rest of my family." - (btw you and lum can continue your interaction, sorry for putting a damper on it) Many of the visiting nobles have left, thinning the main body of the party to a significant extent, and the slaves are busy cleaning up the empty platters and floor detritus of the feast. Most of them don't have an answer or look at each other awkwardly, but eventually Pako is able to pick her out for himself, seated at a far end of the garden looking out over a terrace.

Stage A: Debate Intro Closures - (these are done, feel free to partake in cross-examination) The panel is intently silent throughout Pako's response, stern faces masking minutes' worth of internal political calculations. Guyineber's interjection, however, throws everyone off, inspiring a bafflement so severe that, for some inexplicable reason, despite the guards unanimously raising their weapons, she successfully sees her speech through to completion and leaves. Throughout the entire insult- the intrusion upon a private meeting, the interruption of an ongoing speaker, the patronization of their culture and appearance, the unrelenting verbosity- Oskar's teeth are gritted, eyes narrow, on the precipice of making good on his prior threat to eliminate the next person to upset the process, were it not for one key phrase: 'The Emperor and Ophon are one'. Though the look of suppressed fury never leaves his face, it is such a tantalizing hypothesis that enough time is bought for her to finish her diatribe and fly away, a full minute of silence passing in her wake. Massaging his temples, Oskar finally breaks the silence with an icy cold reprimand directed at the Imperial Cult's podium. "Flightmaster Pako, I have one piece of immediate feedback: Rein. In. Your. Apprentice." Before any objection can be made, he waves his hand. "The process shall proceed as ordered. Next!" The portly Druid seems satisfied with the answer, nodding along cordially, though the other two Druids' expressions are colder at the mention of condoning revolts. Otherwise, the answer is taken well, not necessitating any further commentary. Intro Questions The wispy druid takes a quick glance at his notes before his gaze rises again to contemplate Bob's words. "An impressive display, but what is the practical utility of such a power? How distinct is it from the other demonstrations here?" Meanwhile, the aged woman posits the glaring question in a neutral tone. "Your faith is currently losing ground to Coedd within its own homeland; have you any thoughts or commentary on this predicament? An explanation for why your people would be compelled to stray from these Hundred Hands?" Stage B: Main Party "Whoa, slow down, what's the hurry?" Arni seems completely unaware of the implied social cue, moving to intercept the Queen's intended path of departure. "An eye for stewardship, respectable- truth be told, half the reason this place is so safe is because of my little brothers. The older one- you probably know Hinrik: massive ego, self-aggrandizing- went through a load of trouble to set up that landing pad and shuttle system. The little guy- Oskar, weird snake with the glasses- didn't want anyone messing with his elementary class over at the amphitheater, so he went along with it. They're both cowards, have been since they were kids. Would've liked some excitement to drink to, but hey, the kiddos gotta have their safe space sometimes." He takes another sanguine swig.* Lilja winces, the oversize white pearls in her eye sockets turning to the side alongside her head. "...I don't think I could 'see' it, no..." *I am going to draw this particular thread out as long and obnoxiously as possible as revenge for opening so many conversations at once >:( Stage C: Nighttime Afterparty The pause in which Hekla tries to translate units of time in her head is filled by Constance's interruption, revolving around matters of faith which held no meaning to the seated woman. Frowning, exhausted, she looks down at her drink. What was she doing? She hadn't introduced herself, hadn't asked for the Llort's name (though she knew it already through secondary channels), had no reason at all to engage with the man beyond the gut feeling that he, too, was tired. She couldn't be drunk, it was a physiological impossibility, why had she allowed herself to stumble into such a position of vulnerability? For what, the vague hope that someone might understand the stifling loneliness of eternity? As Pako replies to Constance, a silent wheelchair makes its leave. By the time either conversant would think to address her, Hekla is gone.

Stage A: The Debate (still abstaining from interfering in the Coedd v Bloodfather cross-examination until JB returns) Intro wrap-ups "Not at this time, good Priestess." The portly Druid, still seated, eyes the guards with a hint of subdued disapproval as he speaks. "We thank you for your answers; further discourse will wait until the other introductions are complete and we may enter cross-examinationBasically the future timebubble that Kythia, JB, and Lum have been using for their discourse; feel free to jump in and/or open up entirely new lines of critique." "I feel that many among us would posit that all things matter, just in varying degrees." Oskar dei Fiori smiles as he finishes scribing down his notes, looking up to make eye contact with the sage. The slit pupils of his red eyes are unnerving, even from across the room. "-Though I would not have asked if it were not a subject of interest. Your contribution is appreciated regardless of how much it may matter." Having concluded the Usheret introductions, the other judges signal for the next speaker to begin. New Introductions An envoy of the Imperial Cult was expected to make an appearance in some form or another, and while the speech delivered is well-ordered and comprehensive Pako would have noticed awkward glances pass between the judges. As soon as he has finished his speech, the aged woman on the middle-right of the panel flips to an early page in her notebook- obviously prepared for this eventuality- and begins to speak. "The Fiorid dynasty has held the Empire to be unquestioned sovereign of this world- and all others- for countless millennia, as the loyal reigns of Tonje and Stian dei Fiori attest. We have done our utmost to serve the current Emperor in all the ways we are able, but recent events have placed a strain on these efforts. Despite our complete dedication to every other task they set- maximal devotion to their Mythohistories, restoration of order to their wayward anarchic subjects- they have seen fit to declare our state persona non grata on account of one measly economic lapse, incurred in the course of expending our resources to meet these other mandates. Though our glory is unsung, we are rivalled only by the Eilif Dhaoine in size while standing parallel with the upper echelons of our fellow Elect in terms of military might. We are the paragon subject, a force for order the likes of which any liege would dream to possess and yet this is our reward? To have the worthless vultures and jackals of Tekhum- the lowest scum clinging to the heel of dignified civilization- encouraged to pluck at our flesh for the Emperor's amusement?" She pauses to breathe; it is a marvel that one appearing so old could carry on with such a long tirade, even reading from a script. "...Is your recommendation, in the face of these ghastly affairs, for us to elevate this act of grievous mismanagement to divine providence? The Empire is already our liege and always will be, regardless of how we judge its present ruler's decisions, but what kind of political message does it send if we deepen our commitment to a figure in the wake of such a flagrant miscarriage of justice on their part?" Having allowed the speech to go as planned, Oskar dei Fiori now leans forward, light reflecting of his spectacles in such a way as to hide the true nature of whatever expression lurks above his neutral query. "And besides- what evidence can attest to divinity on the part of the Emperor? The others have demonstrated metaphysical potency which can be attributed to their interpretation of divinity, whereas this claim is made with only evidence of his political supremacy. An unquestioned quality, to be sure, but what would the High Lords say if questioned as to whether or not this translates into a divine nature?" Though the portly Druid appears to be pleased in sentiment, the other three judges cast awkward glances at each other throughout the entire process. Once it's done, there is a ten-second silence before the aged woman sighs and asks the question on everyone's mind. "Do you profess an objection to slavery?" The portly Druid's face goes an even paler white as he glances between his colleagues and the speaker, trying to rationalize some form of apologia for one of the few faiths that also seemed to adequately respect the value of life. "Well, strictly speaking, one individual leading a number of others to aid in the pursuit of one single will would allow one to rise to greater heights than if they struggled alone, correct? Is there anything within the faith that would prevent this outcome?" For the extra attentive, Oskar can be seen scratching at his scaled cheek with an amused smirk for most of the delivery, but it is his Druid colleagues who speak instead. First is the morose visage of the portly Druid, ever-beholden to his taboos. "Such frequent death on the part of this Mother Serpent seems like anathema to our culture, which disdains death above all other ills. The mysteries of divine rebirth are unknown to us with the exception of their existence; is there at least some form of continuity upon which a consciousness may rely?" The wispy fellow straightens a pile of papers as he chimes in, eyes curiously sizing up the Doomweaver's strange appearance. "Many here have already made the case for divine energy being found within one's own being- would you say that these competitors also draw their energies from the Mother Serpent, or are these energies universal, with your god acting as a sage whose unique insight brings these abilities to greater heights?" Stage B: The Banquet or Buffet or whatever it was called The slave, though clearly uneased by Clagath's 'grab', smiles cordially and nods meekly in response, departing to fetch the nearest of the siblings. After thirty seconds alone with the buffet, a familiar face and its familiar smile slide through the crowd to greet the man. "President Clagath, it's a pleasure to see you again." Hinrik dei Fiori glides into the seat opposite to the host of the Aonach, setting his glass of red vintage lightly upon the table. "It was a shame that our interaction at the Aonach was derailed so severely; you were a true stateman throughout the entire affair, whatever my irritations with some of our company at the time." He takes a delicate sip from the glass before continuing. "Alas, with these recent developments, I feel that we have much graver matters to discuss..." Stage C: Post-Debate Party Dregs (for characters who were debating and also move to partake in the party upon its conclusion) By the time the debate has concluded and the Druids have withdrawn to deliberate on their final decisions, the party outside has died down significantly. The sun has long since set, a full moon high in the sky, illuminating even the unlit flower patches with its silvery glow. Though the music is calmer and the food more scarce, tired interlocutors may still find fruitful conversation amidst the fading embers. "Thirst does tend to creep up at the end of such gatherings, doesn't it?" The wheelchair of Hekla dei Fiori is a remarkably silent thing for its size, a feat of engineering which would be coveted by spies the world over were it not used exclusively for the comfort of a cripple. Drawing up alongside Pako, the noblewoman swirls her crimson drink around idly in its glass with a tired frown upon her face, looking out over the still-gorgeous array of flowers that seems to match the pattern of the quilt on her lap. "...If it isn't too insensitive to ask, how old are you?" - (any particular party you're interested in talking to?)

Stage A: Debate (Holding off on adjusting the course of the freeform cross-examination while JB is absent this weekend; any party may feel free to initiate other cross-examination exchanges at this time!) Intro Process All parties are satisfied by the speech, and the magical demonstration receives nods of approval from every judge as they attempt to scribble diagrams of the Sage's runic patterns. The wispy Druid, getting quite a lot of mileage out of his intellectual curiosity for magic, is the first to pose a question: "To what extent can form be adjusted so? It would seem that the composition of your new seat is similar to the object from which it was fashioned, but could one manipulate an object's form at the molecular or atomic level to change the composition entirely?" Supplementing his mechanical inquiry is a similar inquest from Oskar dei Fiori, leafing through a small dossier as he speaks. "According to our understanding, your region is also home to several other faiths espousing the virtues of minor deities. The Frozen God, Val Bedlam, the moonborn god of the Ul-Ping-Nai-Ophon-" His thin lips seem to curl upwards slightly while speaking of them, though it passes in an instant. "-what is the perspective of the Practica Arcanai? Are they existent beings or wholly the product of unfounded superstition?" Stage B: Buffet+Backroom Gingerly retrieving the stylus and slotting it back into the desk, Chancellor Eydis' frown deepens. "As of now you possess the whole of our liquid capital, the entirety of the payment for our contributions to the Imperial Court's historical undertaking. You already know that I have nothing further to offer, and yet you ask me to make one all the same." The woman rests her hands upon the desk in front of her, fingers steepled as she stares directly at the Khylokian with eyes of unabating crimson. "You already have a non-financial price in mind. Speak it." "Yeah, the Ishtahn, those are the mutts I was talking about!" Arni lets out a brief laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "Those other Veehrans? They know what's up. No fuss, no muss, just wading through the blood of their enemies up to the ankle. That parody of a 'kingdom' in the northwest is just an orgy of pretentious puppies who go rabid the second they see something that offends their sensibilities. Heck, they can't even finish their own job, they need the Soom Clan to do it for them! They yap and bark about some grand liberatory crusade, then cower in the dirt the second they catch wind of a country that can actually defend itself. Can't say I blame them; it's where they belong." This entire rant is delivered like a joke, without a hint of anger, and is punctuated with a hearty chuckle. "Might not stop them from exploiting our hospitality for a quick piddle on the welcome mat, though. If that happens, I might be able to see some action after all." "...I see." Though Hinrik's tone remains polite and the artificial smile maintains its position upon his visage, Constance gets the distinct feeling that he's transitioning between diplomatic playbooks. "Regardless, I hope you continue to find your stay fruitful. By all means, enjoy the feast, I'm sure you'd rather not return home on an empty stomach. I have some business of my own to attend to in the meantime." "I can definitely believe that the Llort managed to win your favor; they seem like an upstanding sort." Lilja grins warmly below her empty eyes. "Seems like a system prone to all kinds of intriguing situations. I heard that the Black Cloud Coalition even tried their best for the position..." Whether or not she seems to be insinuating anything is impossible to know, for her voice remains cheerful and friendly throughout the entire exchange, a textbook show of naivete. "There's probably no need to undertake great public works, but I can certainly convince my siblings to agree to a nonaggression pact. They don't have any interest in any land so far north anyways, and their original hesitance was... well, not super important now that we've seen how the system works."

Flashback to before event Oskar finishes reading the missive from Prime Marcus with a scoff. "Useless..." he mutters, crumpling the printed form and tossing it into the bin as the group walked past. Arni chuckled, nudging Hinrik's arm. "Hear that? The hamsters couldn't even be bothered to show up, you'll be fine." The middle brother's gaze is locked firmly ahead as he steels himself for the evening ahead. "Their presence would be a complete nonfactor. The Jy'mar may be duplicitous scum, but they're at least manageable. Any number of the other invitees, however-" "Quiet." Hekla snaps, drifting behind them in her seat as she straightens her quilt. "We all have our parts to play; you can stomach this indignity for one night, Hinrik." "They tried to bomb a library! How can you-" "We're here." Oskar turns to face his three combative siblings and the already-silent Lilja. "The absence of the Jy'mar changes nothing. If they had any confidence in their abilities they would have come, and so their refusal to participate is already a demonstration unto itself. Put them out of your minds and remember: this is nothing but theater. Smile, wave, and all will go to plan." With this, he pushes the door open and the quintet make their veranda debut. Stage A: Debate Intro Process tying up hanging intros, mainly for The responses of the Bloodlord and Glix delegations are logged calmly by the judges as the pitches proceed, all of them looking rather pleased by the orderly nature of the back-and-forth. The response of the Bafatis Dynasty, meanwhile, which involves lifting an appalled Oskar dei Fiori an insubstantial distance in the air, prompts a far more active reaction, half of the guards hastening to restabilize the seat while the other half level their energy rifles against the demonstrator. "On your knees, hands in the air, now!" Their leader barks fluently in the Imperial tongue. Even as the princeling is safely deposited to the ground, and regardless of reaction, she seems ready to issue a kill order anyways. "Hold." Cleaning his spectacles with an irritated grimace on his face, Oskar's command is minimalist but effective, and the guards obediently look to him for further orders. "Your ability is proven, your brashness forgiven. For future reference," he replaces his glasses and looks to the other contestants, "if you possess some form of telekinetic power, it would be wiser to demonstrate it upon your podium than on one of the judges. Our inherent respect for the sovereignty of a fellow Elect will not outlive a second offense, and neither will the offender." As the panel quietly thumb through to the proper place in their notes, the head guard raises her hand, signaling for the others to stand down as they resume their standard positions. Freeform Cross-Examination The quartet of scholarly authorities are happy to see the discourse between plant and blood blossom, though the aged woman appears irked that the Bloodlord has all but confessed a disinterest in presenting a faith which could feasibly exist among and unify the populace. The wispy fellow, meanwhile, takes an opportunity to push the conversation further. "I believe that none can truly deny the potency of your respective forms of power, Coedd's complex immortality and the Bloodfather's grant of sanguimancy. Because of this, I have a question for each of you: where do you place your opponent's deity within your cosmological framework?" Stage B: Buffets & Backrooms Sten the slave leads Omnuud back to the veranda at which Oskar dei Fiori delivered his inaugural speech, heading for the small side door from which the siblings emerged. After pressing a button adjacent to the frame, he opens the door and ushers the Khylokian inside. The hallway is somewhat narrow, following the curved edge of the building with windows to one side and alcoves to the other. After passing a few closed doors, it ends in a t-junction with spiral stairs on one side and a cylindrical elevator on the other. After pressing the button to call it, Sten tries to make small talk. "This thing has been here for ages, not sure why we still have those stairs." Ding. The two step inside. "The elevator was probably added to make the palace more accessible for Hekla. That was long enough before my time that it lines up, I guess." The elevator's ascent is silent and soul-crushingly awkward, the cylindrical chamber offering little in the way of architectural history to appraise. Ding. "Well, here we are." This upstairs hall is much more lavish than the passageway, its marble pillars each flanking a brass statue within their wall alcoves. After a quick walk, the two come to a door protected by two visored guards who part to allow entry. Sten eases it open, and Omnuud immediately finds herself in a lavish office. Its back wall is comprised of a trio of stained-glass windows, casting their chromatic hue across the entire room thanks to the angle of the setting sun. The two walls on each side are covered in bookshelves rendered in white wood, the floor carpeted in a rich red. A few couches clutter the wall adjacent to the door, but the center of the room is occupied by a marble-top desk embroidered with brass highlights, behind which sits the single figure least-befitting her lavish surroundings. Though garbed in the same maroon-and-cream finery as her siblings, the tangle of horns curling every which way from her head gave her an appearance more beastly than beautiful. Her right shoulder is similarly marred by the keratin briar, rupturing from the stately uniform in such a way that a special harness has been overlaid to keep them in line and protect the outfit. Even her left hand, tapping its fingers impatiently against the surface of the desk, has visible growths on its back which lead up her arm and disappear into a deformed sleeve. The silhouetting created by the rear window makes her shape appear all the more ghastly, a living bramble amidst a sea of geometric and aesthetic finery. The first words out of Eydis' mouth are ones of exasperation, directed at Sten. "Which one was it?" "Arni." The Chancellor sighs. "Of course it was. You may go, Sten." As he acquiesces, Eydis gestures to a seat on the opposite side of the desk from herself. "Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss." As Omnuud (likely) proceeds, she retrieves a tablet and stylus from one of the drawers and slides it across the table to her interlocutor. "First, your payment. The transfers are in order, all they require is a signature." Contrary to her unnerving silhouette, the woman's facial features are rather comely; her white hair, where it is not parted by the mire of horns, is likewise well-kept, drawn backwards into a bun while a few stray bangs hang down in front of her face. Her expression, however, is still miserable, and appears as if it has not held a contrary demeanor in some time. (assuming that the Hekla branch is closed) "Yeah, well, someone's bound to try something." Arni pulls out a flask from a hip pocket and takes a swig, a peculiar motion due to the mask covering half of his mouth. yet one which has obviously been practiced and honed to perfection. Not one red drop is spilled. "Maybe those hothead pirates or the Veehran mutts will show up, throw a fit about the ordering of our Household. That'd be a good show." He seems a little too hopeful, glancing among the assembled guests with hungry eyes. Hinrik's smile seems to crack slightly. "Sansar, you mean." He seems to have missed the first time Constance used the term, absorbed in his own xenophobia, but now the imposed name is like a gunshot to his social sensibilities. His speech, however, remains cordial. "I hold no interest in competition among Sansarites- cooperation is the better aspiration by far- but assuming that such a contest exists, calling us the 'greatest power' while renaming the planet after another seems... odd." As if the 'empire' faux pas and allusion to her mother never happened, Lilja smiles along and matches Constance's enthusiastic tone. "Our cultural scene hasn't been closed by any means, I'm sure that countless works have already flowed in both directions." She pauses for a second, head turning away as she ponders something. Her next words, however, are delivered with the same bubbly friendliness as before. "You know, Hinrik mentioned that you might be trying to get us to join the Arkhive membership program, whatever that was..."

Stage A The Druids log the answers to their initial questioning of Garrick in their notes, moving onto the presentation of the second contestant (Bloodlord Peter) without further comment. The Coedd delegation is free to issue critiques and questioning of the other participants as they see fit, as long as it is timebubbled to take place after all other introductions. As the first Glix presenter launches into the conflicted appraisal of this 'Slingid', the Druids have a minor difficulty in retrieving their existing intel on the faith, though while they are distracted Oskar is able to keep up with his own notetaking. At the conclusion, his mouth curls into a curious knot before he asks his question. "If Slingid's mantra is one of everlasting decline, how does that push you forward? Such a fatalist perspective on reality seems like it would procure the opposite effect." The wispy Druid, having successfully retrieved the established notes on the Slingid faith, glances up at the pinniped speaker with a perplexed expression. "Is it true that your faith eschews writing of all nonvital forms, such as the very notetaking process being undertaken within this venue? This seems like a severely debilitating limitation..." Regardless of the first herald's responses, the Druids simply log them before yielding the floor to the second herald. The reception to his speech is smoother due to the prior resolution of clerical errors, but the ending raises a couple eyebrows among the panel. "Correct me if I am mistaken, but you are here on behalf of the 'Ancestral Queens' sect, yes?" The wrinkled druid has a confused look on her face, rifling through the pages of information at her disposal before continuing. "Is Coedd a recent addition to your pantheon, or are you in the process of actively merging your faith with theirs?" The Cult of the Mind's explanation is brief, yet elegantly cogent. The portly druid nods along to the last remark, seemingly satisfied, while Oskar scribes away at his notes. The wispy druid is first to speak, cross-referencing the statement given with those of his notes. "You state that the divine potency of the mind is present within all sentient beings, but our records of your culture refer to psionics being 'born' in your lands. Is attunement to these systems a matter of innate talent, as if these 'psionics' are inherently above us in the same way that we are all above the animals you mentioned?" The princeling chimes in from the left side of the panel, curiosity plain on his face. "And are there any with you today who could demonstrate this power firsthand?" Stage B (switching to a bullet list because the table was meant to be a one-time thing) Hekla considers the question for a moment, intuiting how such a desire would mesh with the itinerary that Oskar had briefed them on. "It would likely be frowned upon to interrupt the initial introductions and inquiry, so this Mynqvist fellow will be on his own for the first stretch. However, I can't see why any would object to participation in the cross-examination period afterwards. It will be some time until then, though..." She rotates her chair to get a better view of the amphitheater dome, lips pursed, before shrugging with a sigh. "In the meantime, you can have your run of the garden. I'd offer to show you around, but a cripple's nostalgia would likely serve as a poor chaperone." She chuckles slightly, rotating back around. "Honestly, you're probably the best gardener here. I'm sure your instincts would serve as sufficient guidance." Arni nods along with a satisfied smile, pointing a finger of approval at the Queen. "Wise words. Some people just aren't cut out for some things, it's good to know our limits." The grin on his half-hidden face gives lie to the notion that he could possibly be including himself, the General-Royal's smug self-esteem as solid as stone. "A lot of the people here, they just don't get it. Can't understand why the battlefield is so fun, start hand-wringing about 'casualties' and 'labor potential', and I can't understand them right back. Everyone's good at something, and I'm good at what I do." He pats an oversized scabbard resting on his hip, looking off at the setting sun with a wistful expression. "I like how red it gets at this time of evening. Makes me hope someone tries something at this little play-date. Between you and me, I've got a little surprise lined up just in case..." Hinrik breathes a sigh of relief. "Good, I wasn't misremembering. Hekla was the only other one of my siblings to witness the calamity at the Hexennial, and even she acquiesced to allowing their attendance. Of course, they helped save the Chancellor so they deserve respect, but couldn't the interaction have been limited to a remote financial transfer? Luckily my security recommendations were taken into account. Hopefully that offshore platform will be in one piece by the end of this..." The former Acting Chancellor stops in his tracks, registering the fact that he's done nothing but rant throughout the entire exchange. Correcting his posture and normalizing his breathing, he readopts the easy smile that had been the trademark of his diplomatic appearances. "Where are my manners- You had a pleasant trip, yes? Is the palace complex to your liking?" Lilja can't see the expression at all, so the Queen's practiced change of demeanor is lost on the pale woman. "No offense taken, it's just... best to be careful, y'know?" She smiles somewhat sheepishly as she continues. "I must admit that I have a fondness for stories myself. Not written, obviously, but when I was younger my mother would bring me to the theater all the time and I'd listen to the shows. Until, well-" A frown plays across her downturned face. "...no, never mind that. The point is-" She gestures to her pointed ears. "These things have a lot of practice to them, and certain words... well, they're best not to say amidst public company." Smiling, she giggles a little bit. "Not that I'm socially infallible or anything like that. You should have been there on the flight back from Caipe Ushere, Hekla wouldn't let me hear the end of it..."

Stage A: (note on arrangementThe judges are arrayed as follows (as viewed while looking at the panel from the stage): Oskar [portly druid] [aged druid] [wispy druid]) If the unhinged rants and horrific appearance of Garrick Mynqvist faze the judges in any way, they make no sign of it, patiently waiting for the speech to conclude. An amused glance passes between the judges when the Arkhivist mentions segregation of research, for that was the Druids' precise reason for existence. Once the speaker has settled, the Druid at the far end of the stage- a wispy fellow with slight hints of a former auburn to his faded hair- is first to probe. "None can doubt your passion, sir, and it is a great credit to the one whom you serve. Though you state that all is Coedd, and this claim is a lofty one indeed, for can it be said that Coedd is also responsible for the variety of different magics that have come into being, including those employed beyond Sansar?" Also chiming in is the portly Druid who delivered the rules earlier. "As a minor clarification, it should be noted that the dei Fiori family already possesses its own means to overcome the scourge of death. We do not ask that an advocate should provide further means to immortality, merely that they respect the culture of a land which values its people's lives. And, on this note-" He raises some notes closer to his contemplative red eyes, confirming some baseline knowledge before continuing. "-Coedd, to our chagrin, does not seem to value sentient life to the same extent as we. It goes without saying, of course, that not all lives are inherently of equal worth, but death is a fearsome thing, an unkindness to even the lowest of evildoers. Within the mantras of your faith, the core premise seems to be that "meat's" ultimate purpose within your theology is to be "fertilizer" for Coedd's aggrandizement. Am I correct in concluding that your religion seems to actively endorse death?" Though the judges obviously demonstrate investment and attention throughout each speech, Bloodlord Peter has all four of them on the edge of their seats from the moment he mentions this enigmatic 'Bloodfather.' Extensive notes are taken throughout the presentation, with the wispy late-autumn-haired Druid desperately trying to diagram every detail of the sanguimancy demonstration while also offering an excitedly brief moment of applause upon its conclusion. Oskar, the serpentine princeling, smiles widely. "An impressive display, Bloodlord. Regardless of the conclusions of this Conclave, I would be pleased to read more of this artform in the future." The talk of plucking fruit, however, seems to dampen the portly Druid's spirits, though he allows the woman to his left to speak instead. This Druid seems more aged than the others, wrinkles creeping their way towards her eyes and mouth, her hair short and thinning beneath the branch-antler headdress. "Of course, there are political considerations to be made. No doubt your magic is powerful, but this Conclave is intended to find a faith that will suit both ourselves and our fellow Elves. Though we are honest and upfront about the regimented nature of our society, it is a relationship built on beneficence as well. Blood holds sacred value, yes, but it is given freely as a show of good will between all. What would our valuable subjects think if we treated them as nothing more than fruit to be plucked?" Stage B: (Apologies in advance to mobile readers) "Ah, Queen Constance, it's been too long..." Hekla dei Fiori looks up at the northern monarch from her seat, a smile resting softly below tired eyes. "I've already eaten, but I greatly appreciate the craft that must have gone into such a long production cycle. These have been troubled times, and peace is tragically all too elusive for our planet..." She seems to cock her head at the invocation of the word 'empire,' but figures it must have been a mistake and carries on, her tone casual in spite of the faux pas. "I'm honestly a bit surprised to see you out here with the party, I would have expected you to relish in the opportunity to educate a willing audience as to the nature of Coedd." "Why, hello there!" Arni dei Fiori's swagger is abrasive at the best of times, but he mercifully remains hands-off as he props himself against a nearby pillar with a friendly grin. "Nice outfit, must've taken a lot more bees to pull it together for one night. I respect the extravagance-" He graciously accepts the gift, only to quickly pass it along to an attendant slave without comment. "-the 'commitment to peace' bit is a little boring though, don't you think? After all, our state is only as great as it is thanks to war. Why, if I could be out there right now instead of playing prop for my little brother's game..." He laughs it off, obviously enjoying himself in spite of his usual priorities. "Oh, thank the Emperor, some familiar company!" Hinrik dei Fiori seems ecstatic to meet with Constance, offering his remaining biotic hand for a shake. "I apologize for my informality, this entire affair just has me a bit on-edge... An open invitation to the rest of Tekhum, I don't know what Oskar was thinking..." He gestures vaguely in the direction of some marauding Khylokians. "I wanted to learn from what happened during our time at the Arkhive, restrict attendance to we civilized Sansarites, but instead these things have been invited to the very heart of our home!" Over the course of this speech, Hinrik has slowly escalated from exasperation to bewilderment, though he quickly realizes what's happening and strives to ground himself. "...Thank you for the gift, it's a lovely thought." "Why are you... buzzing?" After Constance delivers her famous catchphrase, Lilja dei Fiori nods, her empty eyes granting no insight into whether or not she found the answer endearing. "I- I don't think I can actually eat this, but thank you anyways. Just, uh... we're not an empire. My father- well, he says it's to be humble, but he's a Prince precisely because there can only ever be one Emperor. I'd rather not have anyone make the mistake, we're all a bit on edge about them right now, hopefully you didn't use that word around anyone else..." Her voice is almost childlike in its deference to caution, her face contorted in a nervous frown as her face drifts downward, but there's an element of practice to her tone which suggests a distinct lack of innocence. "Yeah, little Eydis is alright-" Arni is found with the Khylokian soldiers, having taken to them immediately and joined in on a round of their gambling. Smirk half-hidden behind his unnerving mask, he doesn't take his focus off the game for one second as he speaks to Omnuud. "She figured you'd want to talk, probably would've called you up herself after an hour or so. Hey! Sten!" One of the nearby slave caterers hurries over. "Yes, sir?" "Our friend here has business with the Chancellor, show her to the office." Sten purses his lips slightly. "Eydis gave clear instructions not to be disturbed for-" "Yeah, I know." Arni grins, casting some dice. "Show her up." Sighing, Sten turns to the Khylokian dignitary, gesturing to the first building the dignitaries were brought through. "This way, ma'am."