Round 4: Elven Conclave of 2044

[moossabi]

Arrival (for everyone, mostly prose though)
Regardless of one’s feelings on the Principality, it is hard to call the approach to Radicefst anything but beautiful. After all crafts are directed to an offshore landing platform (with extra care given by assist-craft to ensure a clean landing for all) and entrants pass security clearance (no firearms or explosives, though allowance is made for ceremonial objects like swords or staves), a succession of sleek shuttles carries each delegation by air to the Fiorid Citadel of Radicefst. The late afternoon sun peers through faded rainclouds, bathing the verdant expanse of Verdalfheim’s jungles in rays of ethereal gold. The occasional white spire or stilted train track pierces the treeline, hinting at greater civilization beneath the canopy, but every interruption pales in comparison to Radicefst.

Image Credit

Mounted upon a high peak rising above the surrounding range, the palatial complex of brass domes and white struts creates a stark contrast with the patchwork of chromatic gardens from which they rise. Below a buffer zone of vegetated slopes tumble a series of white terraces coated in structures, though the transit shuttles head for a triangular landing pad at the far side of the upper complex, a narrow path flanked by patterned lawns leading into the largest structure. The entrance is flanked by visored guards, who open a pair of colossal doors for each entrant. Further guards point the way through the building, its vaulted halls filled with marble statues of all sizes, depicting elves in all manner of dress and with all manner of poses.

Eventually the labyrinthine halls empty out onto a rear veranda, its arched columns framing a wide view of the dei Fiori gardens rendered in a pink-orange hue by the now-setting sun. An announcer calls out the names and origin point of every guest, and each is met with rounds of applause from dozens of pale Nobles with wreaths at their temples and their attendant slaves, all bearing smiles upon their faces and more than willing to satiate any desire for small talk as the remaining guests arrive.

As the final arrival filters into the room, the assembled elven crowd turns their attention and adoration to a side door, from whence emerges a quintet of royal scions who swiftly assemble upon a dias backing up on the window, announced in order of seniority. The assembled Fiorid siblings are clad in their usual maroon-and-cream attire, silvery circlets upon their brows, albinic white hair and skin plain for all to see, and appearing to be of a consistent ageIn terms of character ages (if ever relevant), as of 2044: Hekla is 269, Arni is 264, Eydis is 250, Hinrik is 225, Lilja is 187, and Oskar is 132. Despite this, all appear as if they are in their early 30s. despite there being several decades between them. Furthest to the left is the ever-seated Hekla dei Fiori, a beautiful floral quilt draped over her lap and a smile on her face which never reaches her eyes, ever-moving between dignitaries as if sizing them up. Next to her stands Arni dei Fiori, a rarity at such events yet infamous for his repugnant battlefield reputation, a sleek porcelain mask obscuring half of his smug face as he waves to the sycophants in the crowd. The right flank of the stage is covered by Hinrik and Lilja dei Fiori, the former’s prosthetic arm crossed across his chest below a thoroughly forced smile, the latter’s milky eyes aimlessly drifting above a friendly (if nervous) smile.

At the center of attention, bearing a serpentine grin from ear to ear, was the mastermind of this whole affair, Oskar dei Fiori. His scaly skin looks almost silvery when cast against the setting sun, the cool slits of his eyes resting calmly behind polished spectacles below a curly head of hair. He raises a hand to settle the crowd, then speaks in a regal tone. “Friends, strangers, fellow servants of the Emperor, I bid you welcome. There are many great mysteries across Tekhum, perhaps the greatest of all being the nature of the divine. It is a subject which has fascinated myself and countless others for countless ages, and recent years have been all the more exciting for the proliferation of new ideas brought about by the reinstatement of the Elect. We of Verdalfheim have always held our own cultural traditions, but a plurality of perspectives is necessary for the pursuit of higher truth. It is my deepest hope to learn the nature of all faiths represented here today, regardless of our political disagreements or how the competition may be decided.”

He steps slightly to the side, gesturing out and across the gardens to the nearest domed building along the path. “To all apostles, we shall convene in the central amphitheater. The rest of the judgment committee awaits us there. For all others, enjoy yourselves wherever you please. A feast has been prepared in the gardens, its cuisines tailored to reflect the best that Sansar has to offer. My elder siblings will doubtless serve as gracious hosts.” With this, he bows to the assembled crowd and descends from the dias to set a course for the amphitheater.

Stage A: The Debate
When the representatives of each faith make their way to the Amphitheater, they are greeted by a long tunnel that leads straight to the center of an impressive stadium, circular stair-step seating radiating outwards and upwards for a fair distance. The dome overhead bears a skylight in the center, its light falling squarely upon the central stage, where an appropriate number of podiums have been set up to accommodate each speaker. Seated opposite the podiums in a low row (and flanked by a handful of guards) are the bespectacled Oskar dei Fiori and three bizarrely attired Druids, their brown-green garb fashioned to appear as a cascade of leaves as tree-branch-antler headdresses adorn their pale hair.

Once the contestants have taken their place, a portly druid with droopy eyes stands to deliver the rules of engagement. “To begin, each speaker will have an uninterrupted window in which to introduce their understanding of the divine and the nature of their religion. If we, the presiding judges, have questions, we shall ask them. Regardless of the kind of answers given, it will then be the next speaker’s turn, so on and so forth until every speaker has given their introduction. Later introductions are welcome to comment upon prior introductions, but the most intense disagreements should be saved for the subsequent period of freeform cross-examination, in which speakers may pose questions and challenges to their competitors. We judges are also entitled to such inquiry, and will probe further into any topics of particular fascination or concern.”

OOC: Make your religious primer posts first, then you may freely timebubble any subsequent disagreements or arguments to have taken place after all introductions are complete; this way we can uphold the vitality of ongoing conversation while new posters have the ability to introduce themselves without interrupting the flow. Anyone who delivers an introduction will receive Pseudogravity Engineering, regardless of how active they are afterwards.

As the Druid returns to his seat, notebook in hand, Oskar speaks up to deliver one final tidbit of information. “In addition to us four moderators, a fifth judge will be observing the proceedings and exercising final overriding authority in our ultimate conclusion.” He gestures upwards and behind him, to an elevated viewing box with shuttered visors. “My father, Prince Isak dei Fiori, is prepared to grant his personal seal of approval to the outcome of this process, whatever it may be.” The princeling returns to a seated position, readying his notebook. “As a final bit of advice, our judgment will be conducted along three avenues. Divine potency- how thorough your understanding of divinity is; cultural compatibility- how easily your belief system can work with our kind’s fundamental distaste for death; and religious fervor- how willing you are to actually spread your faith.” With an encouraging smile, he clicks his pen open. “You may begin.”

Stage B: The Party
It is readily apparent that the Fiorid Crown spared no expense for this gathering, as veritable mountains of the best food SansarFellow players of Sansar, feel free to describe the kinds of famous dishes that will have been selected from your countries' cuisines! has to offer cascade themselves upon long buffet tables manned by cheerily smiling slaves. Luxurious tables and chairs are spread throughout the garden’s central plaza, with refinedly-dressed elven nobles dancing and carousing with one another at the center. The quartet of remaining Fiorid siblings freely mix and mingle with the guests, each clearly in their element, likely to seek out interesting company even if it doesn’t find them. Flowers of every sort stretch as far as the edges of the complex in every direction, their fragrant scents and the buzzing of bees providing a kindly atmosphere to the entire affair.

Still, a pair of conspicuous absences hang over the gathering like a disconcerting haze. It’s well-known by now that Chancellor Eydis is no longer held by her mysterious captors, while the overall master of Household and Crown, Prince Isak, has not appeared to welcome the guests at all. It would only be natural for any interested parties to ask after them, but, on the other hand, two notorious recluses are unlikely to make good conversationI am lying; if you're interested, ask after them, I'm more than willing to accommodate such forwardness.. Should the Chancellor have matters of state to attend to, she would surely send someone along to get in touch, while if the Prince had anything of value to contribute he would be leading his country right now instead of letting his brood run rampant across the continent.

Edited March 13 by moossabi (see edit history)

[Kythia]

Arrival

 

The still only partially formed avatar of Coedd arrives at Radicefst.  With the voice box not fully grown yet it is only capable of rasping speech which is hard to understand before one factors in the difficulty of understanding anything Coedd says.  So it is accompanied by the human who probably understand Coedd best in Tekhum.  Well,  human… Garrick Mynqvist, it will later be agreed, has likely been on Coedd too long.  There’s not an ounce of fat on him, to the extent he’s probably in the early stages of malnutrition, though most of his body is covered by a long unkempt beard the straggling edges of which reach his knees.  There are vines in his beard and it’s not entirely clear whether they’re woven into the hair or outright growing there.  The right side of his face has been colonised by a dark green plant that clusters on his cheek with shoots going into his right ear, nostril and the socket of his missing right eye.  The veins on his left arm are strangely prominent as if something is growing in his very circulatory system and his right shin sports a small white-flowering plant growing from an old wound.  His eyes usually have the vague lack of focus one would associate with someone who has spent rather too long living amongst numerous psychotropic plants but, when addressed, snap to the subject rapidly.  His voice is rasping at first from long disuse but by the time the debate starts has returned to the clear clipped and slightly pedantic tones of a senior and experienced ArkHivist.  Out of some remnant of meat decency he is wearing ragged underwear but every time he moves his leg there is a spine-chilling moment of apprehension as to what the various rips might reveal.

 

On his arrival he heads straight to the buffet and any conversation with him is filtered through the hunks of meat he holds in each hand, eating alternately, as he attempts to satisfy his body’s need for protein.

 

The Debate

There are almost two people present at the lectern.  The debate starts with the meticulous ArkHivist distributing reading lists to all present; a dense list of scholarly works that back up his points or otherwise expand on them.  When he starts to speak, though, he is far more the wild madman his appearance might suggest - eschewing the lectern to roam the stage gesticulating wildly and, at times, frothing.  Returning only to the lectern to slam his fist on it emphatically while he makes a point then roaming off again.  Until, suddenly, mid-sentence, the archivist is back and he finishes a tirade with a mild …as discussed by Chai et al, you’ll find the reference on the lists.  He’ll continue to list points and give arguments in a precise and organised for for a few minutes before abruptly thundering …BECAUSE COEDD IS ALL and resuming in that vein.

 

The gist of his speech is as follows:

 

Ladies and Gentlemen, Others and Honoured Guests.  He bows slightly Allow me to structure my arguments in line with the avenues suggested by Prince dei Fiori.  Beginning, then, with the nature of the divine.  First, allow me to submit that thanks to the researchers of the ArkHive, Coedd is likely the most studied being on all of Sansar, perhaps even Tekhum.  Working alongside this being will open up a plethora of resources about the nature of the divine and its specific incarnation in Coedd.  Second, if you’ll allow me to quote the well worn phrase… COEDD IS ALL he thunders  ALL IS COEDD.  EVERYTHING!  EVERY BREAKTHROUGH YOUR SCIENTISTS MAKE: COEDD.  EVERY DISCOVERY OF YOUR INVENTORS: COEDD.  COEDD IS ALL.  WHY SEGREGATE YOUR RESEARCH?!  YOUR BOTANISTS, YOUR GEOGRAPHERS, YOUR OCCULTISTS, ALL STUDY COEDD!  THESE OTHERS a wave of his hand takes in the other delegates LACK SYNCHRONISM.  EVERY RESEARCHER STUDYING AVVA ISN’T STUDYING BIOLOGY.  EVERY RESEARCHER LOOKING INTO THE ILLUMINATED UTOPIANS ISN’T STUDYING PSYCHOLOGY.  NOT SO WITH COEDD!  COEDD! He slams his fist on the lectern IS! another slam ALL! and another you should look to the poetry of Mea Chi’an for a spiritual understanding of this or page three of the notes I distributed gives a more scholarly understanding.  The core point, if you’ll forgive the repetition, is that Coedd provides far more routes to understand the divine than any other religion.  Finally, we should not overlook the fact that Coedd is present.  Questions about its nature don’t even necessarily require researchers at all, often a simple question to a readily accessible being will suffice. Coedd is obviously the superior choice on this avenue.

 

The second avenue, he shuffles his notes. WHO HERE OUTLIVES COEDD? He jumps off the stage and roams the first few rows of the Ampitheatre WHO HERE UNDERSTANDS ETERNITY AND IMMORTALITY BETTER THAN COEDD?  COEDD DIES AND COEDD LIVES FOREVER!  COEDD IS ABLE! YOU WISH NOT TO DIE? THAT’S NO CONCERN OF COEDD’S BUT WHAT BETTER THING IS THERE TO STUDY? WHAT BETTER TARGET FOR YOUR GENETICISTS AND YOUR BIOENGINEERS THAN A BEING THAT HAS LIVED SINCE LIFE LEFT THE SEAS? YOU WOULD PASS UP THIS CHANCE FOR STUDY? FOR WHAT!? He climbs back on to the stage, offering the first few rows an entirely unenviable view. COEDD IS IMMORTAL AND EVERDYING, BUT COEDD ALLOWS YOU TO TAKE ONLY A PART OF THEIR GIFTS! COEDD IS he coughs, looks round the ampitheatre then continues the single closest thing any of us can imagine to an immortal being - with the possible though uncertain and unavailable exception of the Emperor.  If you believe he’d be willing to allow you to study him to fight off death, by all means.  Otherwise, the obvious choice here, I believe, is Coedd.

 

Finally, another rifle through his notes ah yes.  Well, I believe this matter is obvious so I will not dwell on it.  Coedd is nearby, no other contenders are.  Coedd has demonstrated, along with its allies in the ArkHive an ability to spread its worship unmatched in Tekhum.  Since the elevation of the Elect alone the Elif Dhaonie and the Glorious Purifiers have added their voices to Coedd’s, no other contender has managed to make serious inroads beyond those who have worshipped them for generations.  Even now, Coedd has acolytes repairing and refreshing the regions you have conquered.  Coedd is available, ready to go and has a proven track record of success.  You ask for proof of religious fervour?  I believe I can say with no fear of being contradicted that here, too, Coedd is the obvious choice.

Are there any questions or counterpoints? he finishes mildly?

[Lumaeus]

Her Arkhival Majesty, Queen Constance of Comment the First, arrives aboard a humble merchant vessel, which the Arkhive had paid to waylay that they might not use their limited vehicles on a local appearance. Merchants being what they are, word eventually spreads to interested parties of the open awe the Queen displayed, watching with warm fascination from the windows as Radicefst came into view, asking questions of her hosts above the gentle buzzing.

Ah, yes, the buzzing. Whenever asked about this, the Queen simply smiles and says "My only dress is filled with beesArtemis🪐/Morph (they/them)[LSP] — March 12th at 1:04 PM, Memes channel."

The dress in question is a rigid piece of waxwork, with tessellating cells of clothlike comb waving within a disconcerting series of haphazard outer hexagons, each roughly parallel with the floor, but with alien tilts, uneven speeds of rotation, and no discernible connection to the rest of the garmentYou know, just stick a woman in this: https://scontent-ord5-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.18169-9/10603266_739985696069143_2501803740988559767_n.jpg?_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=5f2048&_nc_ohc=44FevdcsvkQAX-9VI-o&_nc_ht=scontent-ord5-1.xx&oh=00_AfAwcf-M9mrKg7QanwxPRupwUb9NVoIJg4OGeu0IyHPM8A&oe=6618549A. It does buzz. Also there are bees inside. It's cool. On her head, she wears a crown of budding myrtle, which an attendant steadily switches out as the evening progresses. Each further crown is half a stage further into bloom and, later, wilt, and as the flowers emerge, soon enough do bees fly from her hem to drink from it.

Garrick

Upon seeing her long-absent Arkhivist, Constance is visibly starstruck. Though Queen, she can name no one throughout Tekhum more renowned in the Arkhive than this star researcher, a celebrity whose work consistently garners more respect and less controversy than that of the Emperor.

"Coedd is All!" she says in way of greeting. "I hadn't realized you would be making an appearance, Garrick. I--" she touches the circlet of buds at her head, "I feel I've come under-dressed. If there's anything I can do by way of support tonight, please, let me know. You always have a home in the Arkhive, of course, as I am obligated to remind you, but you seem very well." She smiles, sincere

Fiorids, Each time she manages to catch one

"It is an honor to be invited to what may be the heart of grandeur on Coedd," intones the Queen, holding forward a waxen box with the usual Arkhival gift of Honeyed Words and a touch of royal jelly. "It took 10,000 bees 25 years to make this honey, which we offer as a token. The Arkhive affirms its commitment to peace, its interest in your continued success, and a hope for ever more ties between our humble state and your great empire."

Her use of the word is delivered with a practiced diplomatic intentionality.

Edited March 19 by Lumaeus (see edit history)

[JBarca]

Arrival

 

A shockingly bright flash in the sky, visible even in sunlight, is the first sign that the Khylokians have arrived. Long seconds pass before a call over the short-range comms warbles in to the Principality's landing craft, signaling a hold pattern in preparation for the shuttle service.

 

Upon landing, a dozen swollen forms waddle out of the craft, several coughing up blood onto the pristine white stone of the pathways. All but one of the Khylokian delegation are Khylokians, their knees shaking a bit with the strain of those not yet acclimated to a new gravity. As the sanguimancy wears or is shunted off, they settle down. At the delegation's head is none other than the Bloodlord himself, wearing a politely pleased smile as he makes the proper admiring noises at the wondrous architecture of the Princes. Despite the title, Bloodlord Peter is a rather unimpressive human. He's of medium build, medium height, medium complexion, and medium-brown hair kept short. His glasses are unornamented, his clothes are simple and professional. In truth, the only symbols of his rank are a wicked starsteel blade at his belt and a blood-red half-cape over a shoulder.

When the welcome speech is delivered, Bloodlord Peter attempts to begin a polite round of applause and seems wholly unconcerned with the success he achieves here. He beckons to four members of his party and moves to the Amphitheater, while the other seven quickly find food to swallow and foreign soldiers to gamble with.

 

 

The Debate

 

The Bloodlord, along with his storyteller and three guards, stands at a podium and politely waits his turn, listening with mild interest to the words of the plant-creature.

When it comes time to present, he nods once, puts his hands behind his back, and speaks.

"Generous hosts, thank you for the opportunity to speak. I am here to represent my people and discuss our divine figure, the Unapproachable Bloodfather. With me is Khukchu, a revered storyteller. Should any questions require a depth of knowledge that outpaces my own, he will happily answer.

 

"First, the divine. The Unnapproachable Bloodfather is our founding entity. He dwells in Ophon itself and makes no demands on us. We live with the knowledge that the strong rule the weak, the weak serve the strong, and nothing that one can take is forbidden. We live free and ride the very emptiness of the void, suffering or succeeding as dictated by our power and cleverness. The Bloodfather, though, is insatiable and has offered to us a contract. In exchange for blood, he allows us access to his power." 

The Bloodlord gestures, and a guard holds out a scaly hand. Peter slices the man's palm with a ceremonial blade, releasing a steady flow of blood. A sharp gesture from the ruler of the Khylokians sees the stream of blood swing upward and into the man's mouth. Peter's human proportions distort, as he grows more muscular, taller, and rounder. Glistening claws sprout from his fingers and his eyes turn red. Then he breathes out and returns to his original size.

"We do not presume to know you." He says this with a knowing smile directed at the judges, then flicks a significant glance over his shoulder to the exit, where the rest of his entourage, including one Barun khysee-Guyu, waits. "But I do make assumptions. Sanguimancy, the gift of the Bloodfather, is the control of one's body. It can be curative, but it can also simply be improvement. We have warriors that fight despite losing limbs because they are able to extend sanguimantically-infused musculature from the stump. I've seen a woman dying from a horrific parasite pull together enough blood to win a duel and drink her friends into a stupor afterward, before collapsing as she let her power fade.

 

"You ask about fervor. Proselytization. Here, I admit confusion. The Bloodfather is above us and demands our respect and veneration. But what is it to us if the livestock and their minders choose to wallow in decrepitude? If they gather their blood and their riches and their slaves in their walls and shields, then we merely have to reach out a hand a pluck these overripe fruit. It only saves us time if the weak gather in their masses."

Peter pointedly does not look toward the other representatives as he speaks. After a long pause, he smiles again at the Princeling.

"I yield the floor."

The Party

 

While their warriors mingle, the two ranking members of important families immediately split up. Omnuud khosee-Huel, nominally in charge with the Bloodlord gone, finds a Fiorid scion as quickly as possible. She offers a few pleasantries, before diving in.

"I trust your chancellor is doing well? After all the work we did, it would be truly tragic if the revolutionaries reneged."

 

Barun khysee-Guyu wanders a bit, eyes darting around as though looking for something or someone in particular.

[Lumaeus]

Eh, let's say during the greetings and hangings out before the event? I can be convinced to put this elsewhen if you want, no big

Queen Constance of Comment buzzes (literally, due to the bee dress) over to Bloodlord Peter when she gets the chance and offers a just-shallow-of-too-deep bow. "It is an honor to meet the Bloodlord himself! May your harvests be a tide with which to drown all your troubles." Coming up from the bow, she winks. "We have something of harvest in our traditions as well, and certainly we all end up contributing. I speak both of Coedd and the Hive."

She manages to produce another small box, also equipped with Honeyed Words and that precious bee's mass of Royal Jelly. "The Arkhive owes the Khylokians a debt of gratitude for both your scientific donations and the generous buzzWoe! Bee puns bee upon ye! you created for our first Hexenniel. Know that our doors are always open to you and that we are grateful to share Tekhum with such innovators."

[moossabi]

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])

@Kythia

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?"

@JBarca

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:

@Lumaeus (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.

---

@JBarca

"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."

Edited March 13 by moossabi (see edit history)

[Kythia]

Queen Constance

Your majesty!  Garrick seems delighted to see her. Enjoyable to acknowledge you again.  All is Coedd he returns her greeting.  Will you be speaking?  So far as I understand it’s each speaker speaks once not each faith and I think it would be useful to show the diversity of thought under Coedd.  Plus I’m…his voice drops to a whisper.  I’m out of practice on this.  I’m not sure I’m the best person, to be honest your majesty.  It’s been so long since I spoke to meat… his remaining eye looks sad for a moment.

Which is why I’m glad to hear you bring up a return.  Your majesty, I’ll he gestures at himself I’ll be going to Coedd soon.  It knows I need different food to it, but forgets for such long periods.  Medical care too, it does what it can he touches the plant growing out of the wound on his leg.  But Coedd is not a personal god who cares about individuals and even if it were our biologies are so different.  I’ll be going to Coedd soon and while that would be wonderful, your Majesty, I have so much to write up.  I’m not opposed to hard work, I’d manage with the fact there are no computers or no electricity to power them.  I’d manage with the fact there aren’t any chairs!  But finishing my work off in the library at the ArkHive would be so much quicker and so much more likely to succeed.  I’ve got years worth of personal notes and they just need categorising before I go to Coedd.  I’m going to return in time for the next Conference, your Majesty.  And look for a young, healthy researcher to take my place for the next few decades.  With your permission?

Talking to Constance seems to be good for him and his myriads ticks and moments of reduced lucidity seem to decline as he has a conversation with a being other than Coedd.

 

The Debate

Garrick listens intently to the questions and scrawls down notes as they are asked, then leaves a moment’s silence after the druid’s had spoken in case more were forthcoming.  Once he’s certain that all that are about to be asked have been asked he nods to himself and begins:

Allow me to respond to these in the order they were asked.  The question of magics. The headline answer to your question is “yes”.  Axiomatically yes.  Coedd is All, magic is a thing, Coedd is magic.  My fellow scholars call this modus ponens (if we were to rephrase it slightly, granted)  It takes great skill as an archivist to make a parenthetical comment in speech and despite his years away, Garrick hasn’t lost it.  As to the specifics, I confess this isn’t my area of expertise.  By which I mean I couldn’t totally answer the related question of “what is magic” and hence couldn’t explain the mechanism by which Coedd is it.  It’s an absolutely intriguing question though and you may rest assured I’ll be focusing on it in the next few weeks.  If you are interested, a copy of my work will be available through the ArkHive for all interested parties.  

 

Now, I believe we might split that second question from yourself a gesture to the portly Druid into two, if allowed.  You say he is briefly racked with a coughing fit YOU SAY THE DEL FIORI’S HAVE IMMORTALITY?  I SAY YOU REDUCE THE WORD.  GIVE ANY MAN IN HERE THE TREATMENTS THEY HAVE RECEIVED.  ANY WOMAN.  THEN CHOP THEM INTO A THOUSAND PIECES.  WOULD THEY LIVE?  HA! YOU AND I KNOW THEY WOULD NOT.  YOU MAY HAVE ELIMINATED ONE SOURCE OF DEATH BUT TO CALL THAT IMMORTALITY?  INCORRECT! He slams his hand on the lectern to punctuate the point and bellows it again  INCORRECT!  WOULD YOU DEMONSTRATE YOU CAN SOLVE ONE MATHEMATICAL EQUATION AND CLAIM YOU HENCE UNDERSTOOD ALL OF MATHS?  NO!  TO DO SUCH WOULD BE THE MARK OF A FOOL!  WOULD YOU CURE ONE ILLNESS AND CLAIM THUS THAT ALL ILLNESSES WERE CURED!  NO, YOU WOULD NOT!  AND YET YOU ELIMINATE ONCE SOURCE OF DEATH AND CLAIM IMMORTALITY! He doubles over for a moment with another coughing fit, clearly trying to continue his speech through the coughs though none of it is intelligible chopping Coedd into a thousand, a million, name a number pieces would not kill it.  It is the opportunity to study that that I believe Coedd could bring. 

 

As to the second part, while everything you say is correct (to an extent) I would submit that you are looking at it wrongly.  Does Coedd care about sentient life - well, actually I stand as proof that Coedd can be surprisingly kind but in general, no, no it does not.  Or “sentient non-plant” life, but I believe that qualifier was understood.  It pays as much attention to our lives as you do to the houseplants in your room.  You may try to keep them alive but it is no moral failing if you do not and if a favoured one were to be removed you are unlikely to feel more than a moment’s sorrow.  But, any being on the scale of Coedd is the same.  They may prevaricate and dissemble, but any being that can meaningfully be called a deity is operating on such a scale difference to us that their meaningful attention to our sentient lives is zero.  There is a civilization in Mekhala called the merely players and if you’ll allow me to read one of their writings he clears his throat and reads from his notes:

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kll us for their sport

True words, and from a people with no link to Coedd.  If you are searching a deity that cares in a meaningful way about an individual’s life, you are to be disappointed.  But!  He holds up a finger But! COEDD WORSHIP IS DONE BY US!  NOT COEDD!  AS THE SAME SPECIES GROWS DIFFERENTLY IN DIFFERENT CLIMES, SO IS COEDD DIFFERENT IN DIFFERENT LANDS. YOU THINK THE PRACTICES OF THE WARLIKE ELIF DHAOINE ARE THE SAME AS THAT OF THE HIVE? HA!  NONSENSE AND YOU KNOW IT! BUT BOTH WORSHIP COEDD. IT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU TO VALUE SENTIENT LIFE? DO SO.  COEDD WILL NOT IMPEDE! AND IT IS TOTALLY UNCLEAR TO ME WHY YOU RAISE THE POINT! IT IS NOT IN THE STARS TO HOLD OUT DESTINY BUT IN OURSELVES!  THE MERELY PLAYERS!  IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH, DO IT! COEDD HELPS! COEDD more lectern pounding IS! more ABLE! and more.

Edited March 13 by Kythia (see edit history)

[Lumaeus]

@moossabi

"I had expected the same, to be entirely honest," says Constance, "And then I yielded upon seeing Mynqvist, who is something of a celebrity researcher cum prophet. Though he did ask whether I might provide supplementary assistance. He's, ah..." Constance searches for a moment. "He's unused to company, and fears he may not present himself well. Would you think the judges would be opposed if I were to slip over? Just to clarify points of general practice and merit outside of Dewlad?"

Constance merely laughs. "Boring is something of our nature. We tend towards long hours of research and a striving to maintain the status quo, if improving it by small measure by small measure. You should see the reports that cross my desk on your battlefield glories. By the time they reach me, they're reduced to academic analysis at best and mere statistic at worst. And so far, neither Snake News or the Heliotrope Broadcast--I do like to keep abreast of both sides of the aisle--have featured our planet's conflicts." She smiles. "But I will gladly offer you the curse of a wish for an interesting life if you offer me the curse of peace."

"It is a gift to see a familiar face, and one whom I have sorely missed...goodness, has it really been a decade already?" The fact that neither of them has aged a day briefly seems comically apparent. "I am grateful you have opened your lands to visitors. It has truly been too long. And as for the outsiders--" Constance also looks towards the Khylokians because, well, come on, "--You can't deny that they certainly provide a certain excitement. Though it looks like they were able to restrain themselves--or perhaps they have been restrained--from bringing an existential threat with them. Honestly, my congratulations there.

Constance immediately pivots into a pained expression. "Ah, you speak with more care than this incautious Arkhivist. Too right you are. I meant only to draw attention to the expanding glories of your polity and I fear I've embarrassed myself with my impolitic speech. Please, forgive me. I am far more accustomed to histories and stories than I am to practicing diplomatic speech." Though a lie, it was a polite one. "As for the buzzing, my only dress is full of bees."

---

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 hours ago, Kythia said:

I’ll be going to Coedd soon and while that would be wonderful, your Majesty, I have so much to write up.  I’m not opposed to hard work, I’d manage with the fact there are no computers or no electricity to power them.  I’d manage with the fact there aren’t any chairs!  But finishing my work off in the library at the ArkHive would be so much quicker and so much more likely to succeed.  I’ve got years worth of personal notes and they just need categorising before I go to Coedd.  I’m going to return in time for the next Conference, your Majesty.  And look for a young, healthy researcher to take my place for the next few decades.  With your permission?

A slip of the mask. A brief flare of concern, a soothing breeze of relief. Constance reaches to grasp Garrick's hand, if he allows it.

"My friend, the Arkhive is open to all. How much more, then, does it offer its most dedicated child? You will have the space you need and I will ensure that we provide you with a Queen's diet so long as you have need. Time is the one resource we have to offer in endless abundance."

[Featherscale]

THE COMBINED COMMONWEALTH OF GLIX

Two Glix Heralds, in their customary top hats and hover-prosthetics, both wait their turn.

The first, gives a speech when prompted.  "Let me yell you about Slingid.  He is, simply, the Worst.  He is the accuser, the tester, the trickster. He us there when you are on the verge of collapse, telling you there is more yet to come.  He is there, when you are happy, making you remember it will not last.  He is there, always waiting, menacing.  He is always there, driving us forward.  Without Slingid, we would be nothing, so Slingid is owed our praise.  If you, too, wish to be more, pray to Slingid."

The Second Herald offers rebuttal:

"She who is called The Hammer sent me.  She would have you know the truth.  It is not some Devil Parrot tormentor that makes one strong. It is the capacity for strength, not its exercise, that deserves merit.  It is our ancestors and their strength that we should praise.  To a Glix, the Ancestral Queens who sacrificed to free us from bondage and set us free in Mekhala are the purest idols of worship, though, having left the Sphere of Living Memory, they exist only in their recordings and in Coedd.  You should honor your Ancestors, and honor Coedd, who is the Ancestor of All."

He nods. "Thank you for your time."

Elsewhen 

In a quiet room, an agreement is made, one more generous to the Glix than the one the Inner Duma had authorized to pay.

Project Homecoming was in motion, and it could be justified as testing for the Slingidites' move to move outward instead of in.  For the price of building a base on worthless Aridyin, the Glix would have a home again....

OoC

No need to RP our OoC agreement, but to spell it out for the record: 

 I (Feather) will explore a Lunar region, (if possible) and perform all necessary actions other than, unless necessary, "Encourage Settlement" to colonize it.  I will vacate all claim no later than round 11.

You (Moos) will support my right to do so, and to build a floating island, by any necessary IC means not requiring mechanical action to do so.  You will also give me the Psuedogravity technology as though my speeches in favor of my IC religions were adequate, regardless of your actual opinion.

 

[farothel]

Arrival

With a last push of the thrusters, the cruiser BSS Ronin arrived in Sansar's orbit.  Soon a dropship left the hangar, following the beacon towards the planet.
"Those elves do know how to show off," Alisha Yalnaya, the senior priestess, said to her companion, as the shuttle flew over the countryside.  Soon it landed at an offshore landing pad.  As they didn't have any weapons with them (except their mind powers), the process went smoothly and soon they were at the location where the debate would be held.

debate
"For us in the Bafatis Dynasty, it is clear," Alisha said when it was her turn on the stage, "The Divine is present in each of us.  We believe that it's in each of our minds that the divine resides and our minds are an expression of this divine.  For isn't it clear that the mind is what distinguishes us from non-sentient life forms.  And even these non-sentient life forms have a spark of the divine in them, although to a lesser extend.  Of course, by being part of the divine, we have responsibilities to use our minds to do the best we can, to grow and to learn new things.  Because it is through our minds that the divine learns."

She paused for a moment.
"And we must use that divine gift to better ourselves and our environment.  It is an obligation for each of us to use that divine spark to the fullest, for the betterment of ourselves and others."

[moossabi]

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.

@Featherscale

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?"

@farothel

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

@Lumaeus (switching to a bullet list because the table was meant to be a one-time thing)

1. 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."
    
2. 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..."
    
3. 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?"
    
4. 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..."

[Featherscale]

THE COMBINED COMMONWEALTH OF GLIX

 

The Herald speaking for Slingid looked shocked that he was actually going to defend his position.   This was already going better than he dared hope!

"The way of Slingid is not one of decline! It is a faith of growth!  We seek to ever grow stronger and more able, to meet the challenges we are given by The Parrot.

"As for our disdain for writing, it has been overstated.   In The Glic, conventional writing has long been replaced by Lepkashramov devices.  Even then, scientists and specialists often learn the skill to better interface with foreign technologies and documents.   The proscription is about integrity.  A recording, even a simple audio tag, is analog and can therefore record basically unlimited nuance and information.   Any written text is digital, definitionally.   It must be doubly limited by the poet ability of the scribe and the capacity of the reader to understand.  We would hope more people adopt our ways, but it is less a major sin than a tradition, to most Slingidites."

The Herald working for The Hammer pitched uncomfortably on his rotors. "Well... we wouldn't presume to tell non-Glix to revere our ancestors.   That would be presumptuous.  But Coedd has come to be accepted as the root from which our ancestors sprang by most members of our cult, yes."

[JBarca]

Constance

"Ah, Lady Constance. A pleasure to meet you in person, at last. I'd like to apologize for both the scare and the mess left by my delegation at your conference. My people are bit more liberal with other people's... selves than the cultures I've come to know in the last decade."

He inspects the box briefly. "What is this, if I might be so forward?"

 

Debate

 

Peter nods in sympathy. "Of course, of course. The masses must be appeased, must be guided and not stomped. I speak of enemies, not subjects. The strong dominate, but strength is measured in loyal warriors and dedicated servants and obedient children. The Bloodfather is unapproachable. He is beyond our means to physically approach, but he is also beyond our social scope. He simply does not care what we do with our strength, so long as it is used. If you use it to care for your people, you'll be remembered in your circles, certainly. To us, though? We do not find ourselves quite so long-lived as your noble selves. We use our strength to crush our enemies so our names will live on in the terrified whispers of their grandchildren.

 

"These other pretty philosophies are just that. They offer a shelter for scholars to recline, for people to think themselves moral, ethical, noble. And I say that is fine. For them. For those who have no strength in the first place, and thus nothing to waste. Us, though? You and we of the Blood?" Peter shakes his head slowly, dramatically.

 

"Any moment we fail to ply our strength against our foes is a moment wasted. Life is nothing if it is not lived well."

 

 

The Chancellor

Omnuud khosee-Huel follows the slave without giving him so much as a second glance after glancing at the hip and back for weaponry. She's content to walk in silence, patiently waiting for her fresh appointment with Eydis, excitement in her eyes.

 

 

[Kythia]

Garrick leans heavily on his podium and scribbles notes on the other speakers as furiously as the presiding druids are. At Peter's comment about the Bloodfather not caring what his followers did besides using their strength, though, he looks up and claps politely for a second. My point exactly he whispers to his neighbour. My point exactly. Use the gifts however you want, don't expect the giver to care. But as Peter continues he returns to his notes.

 

When the introductions are finished he reads back over what he has written about Peter and then raises a hand, waiting patiently to be acknowledged. Once he is: A couple of questions if I may "Bloodlord" his ability to include parenthesis in speech is matched if not exceeded by his ability to pronounce quotation marks without resorting to his hands. The blood magic you demonstrated: will that work on Elven blood? I believe my colleague Yonas HalfSize the three hundred and forty eight and seven hundredths has written extensively on the difference between human and elven blood and I am genuinely interested in whether your magic transcends those differences. The second question requires some preamble: you affirm that using your strength to crush your enemies is a core tenet of the Bloodfather. And yet you have not done so, at least not since joining the elect. The cult of the bloodfather is unknown outside your lands and your borders are the same as they were when you were elevated to the elect. In short you have no real practice at spreading the word of the Bloodfather and yet are wishing to embark on converting a great nation several light minutes away. If you'll allow me to be honest, I do not believe you have the capability to reliably spread your word this far from home, even if the Principality's media were to aid you. The question, then, is 'what makes you think you are capable of carrying the souls of the Principality if the assembled judges viewed your presentation as worthy enough to try?"

Edited March 14 by Kythia (see edit history)

[JBarca]

The Debate

The Bloodlord patiently waits for the manplant to finish his complaints before responding.

 

"Sanguimancy is fueled by the consumption and sacrifice of blood. Biologically, Elven Blood and Human blood are quite different, I am sure. But we've managed to make our power work with many species thus far. So far as I'm aware, the concept of lifeblood is far more important than the strict biological makeup of the fluid."

 

Peter shakes his head, almost sadly. "But no, I believe you are mistaken. The Bloodfather does not demand that we destroy our enemies. He desires that we use our strength. What do we care for borders? Of spreading our views? It only benefits us if our foes choose to nap in warm sunlight and strong gravity while we build our strength. I speak to the great Princes of Elvenkind because we see kinship here and, if I may be uncouth, opportunity. You seem to be implying that we are failing in some objective moral righteousness because we have elected not to give the secrets of sanguimancy to every peasant mucking about in dust or mud. Not all truths are for all people. Besides this... 'carrying the souls?' What gave you the idea that we sought such an end? I am here to speak with the Princes. What they do with the information is for them to decide. I fully trust they have the capability to teach their supporters whatever they need to, even if you do not."