Round 4: Elven Conclave of 2044

[SerakHawk]

The Illumined Utopian does not arrive as invited to the Elven Conclave, even with their Sansar holdings only on the opposite end of Chonkia. Instead a Jy'mar messenger arrives presenting a tightly wrapped scroll to be delivered to a representative of the Florid Principality. The Scroll when unwrapped appears to be an upscaled copy of a handwritten letter from Prime Marcus of Soul's Expression.

Quote

From: Prime Marcus, Soul's Expression

To: The Fiorid Principality

Re: Elven Conclave for the Determination of Faith

Dear Fiorids,

At the time of penning this letter it was unclear how this 'contest' of faith of yours and subsequent debate would occur and I provide my apologies for not correctly addressing whomever reads this letter. It intrigued me initially to hear that debates were going to occur for the Fiorids to determine what they would choose to believe for their people - it also saddened me to hear that the Fiorids have no true faith that they wish to follow of their own volition and required outside intervention to stoke faith in the people.

I reflected on why this saddened me, and in doing so I realized why. These debates are against the nature of Soul's Expression's inherent call to your own path. Soul's Expression is a highly personal belief, we follow our own paths, make our own journey and at times aid those along the way with their paths. It, however, remains their path. How conceitful must I be to say that Soul's Expression is a better path than another? I and my fellows seek our paths together for the betterment of all, and I cannot with good conscience arrive to debate the merits of my path to enlightenment as being better or more advantageous than that of others.

It is with this in mind that I, Prime Marcus, say that Soul's Expression will not be joining your debates.

Our faith is one that cannot be bought or sold and can only be accepted if one truly wishes to follow our Path.

We wish the best to the other contenders for the Fiorid's 'belief' and wish that the path the Fiorids follow is not a fickle one.

~ Prime Marcus, Soul's Expression

 

Edited March 14 by SerakHawk
l > i in Florids (see edit history)

[Lumaeus]

14 hours ago, moossabi said:

• 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..."

1. HEKLA "Of course," Constance acknowledges the limits of her participation in the debate. "I am grateful to the organizers for the flexibility of the process." Upon receiving the politeness of not receiving the offer of a garden tour in the guise of its false unworthiness, Constance accepts the initiation of parting. Hekla has other things to do, of course. "You do yourself a disservice with such speech. There would be no more pleasant company in such a tour. However, given that I will be called away when the debate reaches the right point, it would be a waste of your time and raw avarice on my part to demand such a thing. I will learn what I can from observation and from any gardeners, should they be present." She smiles and is happy to take leave if Hekla is.
2. ARNI "I so rarely get to see the sky at all. The Arkhive is beautiful, in its small way, but it is a great vault. You are rich in both land and sky. Not to mention your uncontested claim on the heavens. I am awed every way I look. With such power on display, I can feel secure knowing you have a plan. Though," she looks around, "It does seem that security has thus far rendered this event safer than any yet on Coedd."
3. HINRIK "I did indeed, thank you. I prefer to travel with locals where I can, to more well understand the realms I visit. And everything I see here explains the awe with which they spoke of your great state. It is not false humility to admit the grandeur of this complex. I don't denigrate or belittle my Arkhive--it is exactly as it should be. But that is a bountiful vault in a rock. This is a center of power in perhaps the greatest power on Coedd, and it looks the part. I am honored to be a part of this congregation."
4. LILJA "I thank you for your warning. I forget not all the Elect enjoy the privilege of inconsequentiality. No one overlooks the Principality." At the mention of stories, Constance brightens. "I cannot imagine you making a misstep half so grievous as my own. You speak elegantly, conduct yourself with grave befitting your rank, and you are a lover of stories. I would love to make a study of the art forms of the Principality. And if you would like, I could have a curated selection of works sent here for you from the Arkhive. We specialize in non-visual, non-auditory media, given our Honeyed Words, but I can also have scripts sent for your actors. Is there a genre, topic, era, or other category you might prefer?"

AT THE DEBATE

When the presentations move into cross-examination, Constance quietly sidles over to squeeze in next to the other Coeddites. She, Garrick consenting, gives her prophet's hand a reassuring squeeze.

[farothel]

14 hours ago, moossabi said:

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?"

 

"It is indeed an innate talent of various strength someone is born with," the priestess explains, "but that talent needs to be trained to be able to do something useful with it. Just like some people have the ability to be stronger or more intelligent than others but still need to be trained to achieve their full potential. Only the power of the mind is much rarer than great strength or intelligence. We don't consider ourselves to be higher than other people. We are indeed blessed by the divine, but with great power comes great responsibility. We have a responsibility to our people, in fact to all people and we take that responsibility very serious."

 

She has a look at the princeling and with a sigh she nods to one of the other priests present. Concentrating while looking at the person asking the question that person's chair suddenly lifts up in the air for about half a meter before gently being put back down.

[moossabi]

Flashback to before event

@SerakHawk

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 @farothel

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

@Kythia @JBarca

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

@JBarca

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.

@Lumaeus (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..."

[Kythia]

@moossabi @JBarca

Garrick tilts his head slightly in the characteristic "I'm not sure what you mean" tilt of humans Tekhum-wide.

Where does the Bloodfather fit in our cosmology? he confirms and shrugs slightly at the Druid's (presumed) nod of confirmation. He glances over his notes for a second, too quick to be actually reading something unless he is far more augmented then he seems, then looks up. HE DOESN'T! THE KHYLOKIANS HAVE A NOVEL FORM OF MAGIC. SO? MANY PEOPLES DO. THEY DO NOT CHOOSE TO PERSONIFY IT. DO THEY KHYLOKIANS ALSO LOOK AT THAT LIGHBULB a wild gesture takes in the eletric lights on the roof of the auditorium along with most other things present AND POSTULATE A LIGHTFATHER? IF THE BLOODFATHER EXISTS, LET HIM COME AND ANSWER THAT HIMSELF! I AM NOT SAYING HE DOESN'T! I AM SAYING THERE HAS BEEN NOTHING SAID TO DISTINGUISH HIM FROM ANY OTHER ETIOLOGICAL SUPERSTITION. UNTIL THERE IS, UNTIL MORE CAN BE SHOWN OF HIS NATURE? I SEE NOTHING TO INDICATE THE QUESTION IS VALID a wild sweep of his arm, there is no real way of telling what he was planning on pointing at, sweeps his notes to the ground and he squats to collect them. With the provided information as to the nature of the Bloodfather and his status or otherwise as a physical, approachable entity, there is, if you'll allow me to repeat myself, simply nothing to indicate he should be assigned a place other than "superstition" in our cosmology.

[Frostwander]

Magister Sage Ange Jénou arrives in a small, comfortable air carriage. The small crew remains with the craft; the magister herself is the only member to embark on the shuttle to the citadel.

She wears an eye-catching outfit of ivory white and pale ice blue. A deep v-cut corset connects to full-length sleeves that come to a high sharp point at her shoulders, with thicker patterned material at the cuffs that gives the impression of bracers. Below the corset a skirt hugs her legs, cut to mid-thigh in the front while dropping to ankle-length at her sides and back, white high-heel boots raising to mid-shin. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in tight blonde ringlets.

 

Debate

During the early parts of the debate she remains poised and calm at her podium, allowing the others to speak their pieces first as she listens. Through most primers she has very little visible reaction. She is clearly quite disturbed by both the appearance and behaviour of Garrick Mynqvist, recoiling with a choked 'egch' at one point where his wandering rant brings him near. 

The rapid and aggressive response by the armed guards to the Bafatis' demonstration is noted with a raised eyebrow, hands pressing fingertips together. She seems content to allow most of the other representatives to make their own initial cases before presenting her own.

"Practica Arcanai is not, by the standard of most religions, a 'faith'. It is instead a discipline. We practitioners do not typically serve a god or divine. Though there are some few who attempt to combine these beliefs with more dei-centric origins, these tend to suffer in their studies from an inefficient split of focus. Study, focus, and confidence are the core of progress in what Practica Arcanai represents.

"In similarity to what the cohort from Bafatis Dynasty mentioned, we nominate that what divinity exists is found within ourselves. The 'spark of the divine' is potential, and it is up to each to uncover and grow that spark. The studies of Arcanai, such as those we teach at Lyceum Ichroma, are a clear, focused, and replicable method of unlocking extraordinary capabilities for oneself."

Sage Jénou pauses, taking in the reaction of the assembled speakers as well as those sitting in judgment. She steps around to the front of her podium, smoothly lifting herself up to sit cross-legged on top of her podium, still facing the judges.

"Individuals begin with a study of basics, then tend to focus on a single field of study that fits their developing talents. Articumancy uses the spoken word to influence reality through meticulously crafted phrases. Geomancy studies the inter-relation of physical objects through complex shapes used to manipulate substance and position. Psychomancy is a more newly evolving field explores the relations between life-energy and bodies via sympathetic connections."

As she explains the different disciplines, the sage begins to calmly trace patterns into the space around her. Pale blue lines follow her fingertips, hang in the air in shallow non-linear curves, intersecting in increasingly complex patterns. "My own application is that of geomancy. It allows me to redefine substance in its space to adjust form, and thereby, purpose." The lines slowly drift down around her, and then, as Ange presses her fingertips together to close the complex shape, contact the podium upon which she perches. The material of the pulpit warps, shifting and blurring as it becomes mutable along the closing shape, slowly lowering her as it spreads and reforms beneath and behind her with almost exaggerated slowness. A few moments later, the faintly glowing shapes have faded entirely into the sweeping curve of the asymmetrical chair in which the sage now lounges with one arm lifted slightly. She leans back comfortably, her legs supported by the smooth curve of the footrest at its base. A pleasant smile and a nod to the judges indicates the end of her demonstration, inviting their response.

[JBarca]

The Debate

 

The Bloodlord is quick to hold up a hand when the rifles come up, keeping his small entourage still.

 

When he and the Coedd representative are asked about each other, he listens in growing strain to the near-treason of the abomination.

"We... excuse me. I will answer the question in a moment." He clears his throat, frowns to himself, then schools his features and tone.

"We are disappointed to hear this. The Bloodfather is not superstition. As I have said, not all truth is for all people. Coedd's reality is evident, its divinity hardly questionable. But to deny the Bloodfather tells me its judgment is severely lacking. He dwells with Ophon, sees us all, demands a tithe. In truth, the separation between him and the Emperor is largely philosophical, not practical or literal. Surely your plantgod does not deny the Emperor? To do so invites... conflict.

"I apologize to our hosts. There comes for every man a line he will not see crossed. Treason is mine. Within our cosmology, such as it is, Coedd is a god of Sansar, a powerful entity that represents a different kind of strength, but one which bears to high a cost for us to stomach. It is, of course, below Ophon, as we all are. Beyond that, we see no reason to devote much thinking to the creature. There is no reason to deny the existence of something that does not concern us much."

 

 

Backroom Dealing

 

Omnuud khosee-Huel nods with detached interest at the history of the elevator, then stands still and waits. She evinces no discomfort at the silence - not for some impressive tact or discipline, but because she seems fully oblivious to the social expectations of her guide.

 

In the hidden office, she looks around, suitable impressed, then takes a seat carefully. After signing the pad, she tosses the stylus to the table.

"I'm pleased to see you looking well, but I'll cut right to it. We bugged your kidnappers' ship. I have the transcript with me. What is it worth to you?"

[Lumaeus]

On 3/13/2024 at 7:31 PM, JBarca said:

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?"

(I missed this sorry)

The Queen laughs. "I often deny the claim that any press is good press, but it must be said that your delegation helped word spread of the Arkhive. So long as it does not offend, I would go so far as to hold you personally responsible for scale of peace and friendship my people have enjoyed this past decade. Truly, it is good to finally meet."

She shifts attention to the box.

"Within are wells of Honeyed Words carefully curated to be more likely to contain memories of both insight and joy, though it's an imperfect process. In the very center, there is a small amount of our most precious resource, Royal Jelly. Sufficient quantities arrest biological aging, mend wounds, and unify the mind with those of the past. In this amount, it may heal, it will give great insight, and we suspect it would likely give a human being somewhere around an extra month of life, though that is impossible to measure with the available sample sizes nor to translate across biologies." Constance gives an embarrassed smile. "I pray you will forgive its generic quality. I had not realized you would be joining us. If you'd like, I can have a library card made for you as a sign of nonaggression and peaceful coexistence of our peoples, but the gift as it is already shows the great respect we hold for you."

16 hours ago, moossabi said:

Flashback to before event

"They tried to bomb a library! How can you-"

---

@Lumaeus (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..."

Flashback to After the First Hexenniel

Freshly to bed, Constance is almost immediately asleep. The plan she had plotted since before her birth had been put into motion, and already it seemed to be bearing fruit. If this worked, all of Tekhum would benefit and the world would know peace.

As sleep claims her, a last whisper of wonder leaves her lips. "They tried to bomb a library!"

The Queen falls smiling into slumber.

ARNI (COLUMN TWO)

Constance is not a naturally belligerent soul, but she's willing to pursue conversation along foreign paths. "Yes, what of the Veehrans? While I've been pleased by the art and people of both Ishtanos and BafatisShe does not mention the Iron Masquerade, mostly because the second Mort died, she didn't have to bother with what she assumed was a civilization of Mortimers the Red., the other polities seem unusually and unproductively bellicose. It's not as though there has been no war on Coedd, as you well know, but we've seen conquest and integration, a work of nation building buoyed by a careful curation of the land by nature Herself. From the reports I've had, the Elect of that rusted sphere seems to be savaging themselves to little gain. Does a more practiced military mind than mine have any insights into their grinding conflict?"

HINRIK (COLUMN THREE)

"Ah," Constance winces diplomatically at her own words. "The misspeaking of someone perhaps oversteeped in Coeddite company. One of the major schools of theo-ecology in the Arkhive has been openly conflating Coedd with Sansar. In secular language, if life on the planet depends on the flora and the flora is embodied in Coedd, Coedd effectively is the planet. It's grown well past the bounds of religious language now, much like a "mother nature" might have been used before the acknowledgement of Coedd's influence. And--" She catches herself and waves it away. "Forgive me, it's immaterial here. I spoke poorly, but not insincerely. From the Arkhive's position, comparing your civilization's glory to that of Coedd is like comparing your glory to the phenomenon of hurricanes. Both are great and powerful, wondrous and fierce, but there's no reasonable way to place them on the same scale. We accuse you of contending to be the greatest polity. Coedd is the greatest phytodeity."

LILJA (COLUMN FOUR)

Bingo. "Yes, the Arkhive is deeply invested in the free flow of information within Tekhum. As it stands, we already offer our digital holdings to you. You are always welcome to peruse our physical holdings at the Arkhive as well. Then there is proper Membership. As a local power, your state would be entitled to borrowing from our special collections. Moreover, much of the capacity of our state is used at the behest of our most recently most generous sponsor, currently the Llort of Mekhala, if you would believe it. Member states are held to be inviolable, as are their holdings, mostly as a protective measure so that the Arkhive will not be able to be used against our friends. The cost of Membership is simply a pledge of nonaggression, which at the moment would apply only to the Arkhive's own lands in Up-Chonkia as well as a single local workerI mean a TP but I can't say TP bc we're not Trading union workers solidarity forever death to exploitation moos i'm having fun at your event ty's organization on Veehra. Should you be interested in such a thing, I could even help begin a local branch-Hive before I leave."

4 hours ago, Kythia said:

@moossabi @JBarca

Garrick tilts his head slightly in the characteristic "I'm not sure what you mean" tilt of humans Tekhum-wide.

Where does the Bloodfather fit in our cosmology? he confirms and shrugs slightly at the Druid's (presumed) nod of confirmation. He glances over his notes for a second, too quick to be actually reading something unless he is far more augmented then he seems, then looks up. HE DOESN'T! THE KHYLOKIANS HAVE A NOVEL FORM OF MAGIC. SO? MANY PEOPLES DO. THEY DO NOT CHOOSE TO PERSONIFY IT. DO THEY KHYLOKIANS ALSO LOOK AT THAT LIGHBULB a wild gesture takes in the eletric lights on the roof of the auditorium along with most other things present AND POSTULATE A LIGHTFATHER? IF THE BLOODFATHER EXISTS, LET HIM COME AND ANSWER THAT HIMSELF! I AM NOT SAYING HE DOESN'T! I AM SAYING THERE HAS BEEN NOTHING SAID TO DISTINGUISH HIM FROM ANY OTHER ETIOLOGICAL SUPERSTITION. UNTIL THERE IS, UNTIL MORE CAN BE SHOWN OF HIS NATURE? I SEE NOTHING TO INDICATE THE QUESTION IS VALID a wild sweep of his arm, there is no real way of telling what he was planning on pointing at, sweeps his notes to the ground and he squats to collect them. With the provided information as to the nature of the Bloodfather and his status or otherwise as a physical, approachable entity, there is, if you'll allow me to repeat myself, simply nothing to indicate he should be assigned a place other than "superstition" in our cosmology.

 

3 hours ago, JBarca said:

The Debate

When he and the Coedd representative are asked about each other, he listens in growing strain to the near-treason of the abomination.

"We... excuse me. I will answer the question in a moment." He clears his throat, frowns to himself, then schools his features and tone.

"We are disappointed to hear this. The Bloodfather is not superstition. As I have said, not all truth is for all people. Coedd's reality is evident, its divinity hardly questionable. But to deny the Bloodfather tells me its judgment is severely lacking. He dwells with Ophon, sees us all, demands a tithe. In truth, the separation between him and the Emperor is largely philosophical, not practical or literal. Surely your plantgod does not deny the Emperor? To do so invites... conflict.

"I apologize to our hosts. There comes for every man a line he will not see crossed. Treason is mine. Within our cosmology, such as it is, Coedd is a god of Sansar, a powerful entity that represents a different kind of strength, but one which bears to high a cost for us to stomach. It is, of course, below Ophon, as we all are. Beyond that, we see no reason to devote much thinking to the creature. There is no reason to deny the existence of something that does not concern us much."

"If I might," Constance interjects calmly, "I think that illuminates something interesting. For many adherents of Coedd, the Bloodfather-as-concept is a mere etiology--forgive the description Bloodlord, I am not seeking to make the claim myself. Under the paradigm which the the Bloodlord has laid out to us, he is the Emperor, to whom we already swear fealty, to whom we pay taxes and by whom we are Elected. To use your own language, the Emperor's reality is evident.

"Coedd is also real and evident. As the poet wrote, The milk-budded myrtles between us, / the vine-leaves, the grass that we've trod / And we say "We have seen, she hath seen us! / A visible god! Both of the claimed cosmologies acknowledge one another, and any disharmony between them is theological friction, not disagreement. But if both are true, and we know this to be the case, then why do we not accept both deities at their word. The Emperor asks for our fealty and our taxes. Coedd has come in person to seek worship. Where the Reserve has fought, the plants have joined them. Where the Arkhive traffics in information, she has built an information center. I am grateful to serve both these powers as they ask, and more grateful still in the ways they serve in return."

She holds up a kroesid. "Why do we not all render unto Ophon what is Ophon's, and render unto Coedd what is Her?"

[moossabi]

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

@Frostwander

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

@JBarca

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."

@Lumaeus

• "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."

[farothel]

On 3/15/2024 at 1:04 AM, moossabi said:

Stage A: Debate
Intro Process

tying up hanging intros, mainly for @farothel

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.

 

The priest was surprised. While demonstrations of this kind were not often done at home, neither where they unheard of and those having the power of the mind were always treated with respect. The senior priestess stepped forward.

"My apologies. We were uninformed about these local customs. You have my word that it will not happen again."

As the guards withdrew, she looked at the judges.

"Do you have further questions, ladies, gentlemen?"

[EmBark]

The Arrival

After receiving clearance to enter Fiorid airspace, the space cruiser Trans al-Mekha had landed in Verdalfheim's mountain landing pads in the Piedraema region, at a friendly distance to the final destination of those it had come to deliver unto the Conclave. A pair of llort in tight space suits departed from the space cruiser alongside a small airship with humans. As they came closer to the Conclave, the larger one flew closer to her mentor.

"This planet is so verdant!" Guyineber said as she turned around in the air playfully and excited, taking deep breaths of the oxygen-rich air. "It looks so beautiful from up here! Please, flightmaster Pako, can I take a look around? I promise I will be at the debate before it ends!"

"You have been here barely an hour, young lady." The older smaller male llort rolled his eyes. "You've barely earned your hair and immediately you're showing you haven't shed your childishness."

"I'm not afraid to embrace my inner child." Guyineber said with a smile. "I am at harmony within myself, between the old and young, the mature professionalism of a Society diplomat and the child-like wonder of a first flight!"

Pako grumbled. "Fine then, but don't embarrass me and be on time."

Guyineber saluted him with a smile. "I promise at least one of those things, sir!"

She flew off and down into the forests below. Pako continued to grumble as he approached the landing pad of Radicefst. He did agree with Guyineber though: it looked verdant and beautiful. The architecture caught his interest more, and he admired the columns of white stone before one of the elves caught his attention and he joined up with them and with the humans of the Society after they had landed too.

 

The Debate

Pako had sat at the debate for a little while, listening in on each representative that spoke up in turn to advocate for their faith. When it came time to take a stand himself, he rose up from his seat. Pako stood just over 6 imperial foot tall, on the shorter side for a llort, though his tail was long. His skin was a pale sky blue colour, his eyes a dark electric purple, his upward-curving horns a boney white with that same purple colour coming as a soft glow from their crevices. He was hunched over slightly and he was dressed in the tight space suits of the Society, in black and white and purple for him. Over it, an attendant had draped a blanket--mostly for show--which the old man now shed. Unlike many young llort, Pako had hair: white locks falling down from his scalp to his shoulders, and even more strikingly, a white mustache and beard of similar length.

"Honoured fellows of the Elect," Pako began, "I have listened to you all with great attention. It does me good to hear the passion in your voices, that even as I approach my bicentennial and likely my death, the younger generations have the energy to carry foward what good the older have to offer them!"

He smiled a moment at those gathered around, pausing in appreciation.

"A similar passion lies in others on Mekhala, neighbours to the Khylokian and the Glic whom you've already heard speak. Soon you'll hear the words of my younger companion, but let me first open by addressing the key points of this meeting."

He held up a hand with one finger outstretched.

"Firstly, to sum up: the Imperial Cult has as its pillars three key things. Science. Holy Space. And the Emperor. The process of Science is key to our existence and to progress. It is key to knowledge. It is key to truth and justice. It is key even in this meeting of faith! The noble Verdalfr have invited us here, because a plurality of perspectives is necessary for the pursuit of higher truth! Science must work hand in hand with faith to see to it that all that can be Known is the purview of Science, so that whatever remains that cannot be Known and must only be Believed falls under what remains of pure faith alone. I do not think this is controversial among those gathered here. Sir Garrick Mynqvist here," Pako gestured at the Coedd representative, "made the observation that biology, geography, psychology, the occult and more should all be studied, should all be Known and be represented within one's faith. That is why the Imperial Cult strongly positions Science as a central pillar. The Imperial Cult does not claim to be Science Itself, but it does claim to a champion of education and knowledge."

He poked a second finger into the air.

"Secondly, where does the variety of different magics come from? This question is one that puzzles many and was justly asked by the esteemed Druids here. Magic can be categorized and studied and understood, and thus magic can be a science. Yet magic is also full of mysteries, for there are many kinds of magic and not all are fully understood yet. In time, they may fall under Science as well, but it is without a doubt also intrinsically tied to faith, especially those magic disciplines that depend on belief and personal conviction. In that regard it might be similar to views that live in the realm of the Bafatis Dynasty, or Caipe Ushere with their Practica Arcanai. It is here that Holy Space is key to my faith. Space is all around us. We occupy it with our physical existence and beyond the planets' atmospheres it can be all there is for lightyears. Space is full of energy that can be harnessed. While my kind has a slight advantage with talent due to being adapted to living in outer space, talent alone cannot make up for pure, learned skill. Many of those who have learned of the space magic the Society teaches have become skilled adepts. Some can even compete with whole spaceships for speed and power, as shown in the races held on Mekhala. Their track record--" Pako smiled at the unintended(?) pun "--speaks for itself."

He raised a third finger.

"Thirdly, we must consider where the deities of the others here stand within our own view of the universe. How do we consider them? An important question. We all live in a world far larger than the one of two million years ago. Sir Garrick Mynqvist has mentioned that Coedd has spread far. It certainly has grown a lot here on Sansar. The Bloodfather meanwhile is a very local deity, made as one with Ophon. It is here that the third pillar is very important: the Emperor! The Coedd mantra of Coedd is all is well known, but if Coedd is all, then why are we not already Coedd? Why is Coedd so Sansar-bound? The Verdalfr have colonized their moon. Have they found Coedd there? A question to be answered later, perhaps. I shall tell you that there are things beyond Coedd and larger than Coedd."

"To start small and factually: we are all part of Tekhum. We are all part of the Empire. We are fellow servants of the Emperor. The Emperor is eternal. This all has been so for millions of years, as the reckoning goes. A temporal constant. A temporal power. A fact. Science. There upon Ophon the Emperor resides and therein we find that the Bloodfather of the Khylokians is one conception of the Emperor as divine. There was an argument that more of the Elect joining their voices together is a sign of a good track record. I agree there is merit in that. The Imperial Cult has voices across all orbits. A good track record. Then," he held up another hand.

"On the other hand, some of you here state that there is the divine in all of us, and I agree there as well! As I said, we all are part of space. We have a measure of divinity within us. Magic. The Emperor is one of us, more than us, and so does it not stand to reason that the Emperor possesses such divinity as well, perhaps in greater measure? And even if there were not the Empire being greater than all of us, then there is Holy Space, even larger in scale than the Empire!"

Pako waved the three fingers around. "Science. Holy Space. The Emperor."

He lowered his hand. "These are the pillars of the faith of the Imperial Cult and they have inspired us to passion, to progress, to value sentient life and treat people with value."

He bowed. "Thank you for listening."

He returned to his chair.

 

The Party

After the debate had sapped Pako's energy, he slumped down in a chair in a slightly quieter part of the party section, clutching a glass with a cold and colourful beverage. "Emperor's shingles, I needed this."

Edited March 16 by EmBark (see edit history)

[GrimRanger]

The Arrival

As quiet as they have been in other events, the United Houses of Senkar have chosen to make a grander show of their presence this time around... and as such, a full delegation has been sent to attend the Elven Conclave instead of smaller diplomatic team. As the delegation is there to discuss matters of philosophy and faith, however, they make a show of showing the traditions of their faith: that of the Forever Self.

The dozen or so members of the delegation are all united in the basis of their garb being black and green environmental suit, but beyond that and their considerable height, all of them sport a variety of distinct styles. But there are still a trio of figures leading the way as the followers of Forever Self exit their sleek white and brass spacecraft.

A warrior with long sash and polearm by his side, face mostly hidden by elaborately carved mask with network of fine tubes running from it to his neck.

An aristocrat whose suit is complimented by more businesslike attire over it is next, idly adjusting his cufflinks while casting an eye out towards possible competition already present. His gaze is a challenge, eyes sharp… but he seems to find a measure of respect towards those he surveys, as tight but delighted smile crossing his features.

The last member of the leading trio is perhaps the grandest and most ceremonial. Flowing robes that seem to billow and shift with life of their own shroud her in grandeur of brass and darkest black, smooth cobalt visor hiding her features. A perpetual current of air seems to circle her like an invisible being, and the occasionally pauses to quietly murmur to herself.

The Wayfinder has decided to visit the event in person: it is rare to have such large possible audience to spread the beliefs codified by the Djinn, after all.

 

The Debate

After watching multitude of other faiths make their case beneath the scrutiny of their elven hosts, the head of Senkar’s delegation glides forward to take her own spot on the podium. Her two closest companions go on to stand by her sides, but shoulder to shoulder instead of behind her. They are not her guards: they are her equals.

“Honoured hosts and fellow members of the Elect, thank you for your time. I am Syndra Ravana, the presiding Wayfinder of Forever Self, and I am here to present the merits of our faith and philosophy. With me are Grem Lazar and Stratos Tzima, friends and companions I have met in pursuit of understanding.”

A sweeping gesture of her long sleeve encompasses all of the Elect in attendance, her smooth voice circling around the space as she continues on. “I have no doubt that all of gathered here to speak today have found divinity in their own way: through blood, relentless growth of singular being or reverence of the Emperor… but our faith posits the understanding of divinity to be something with deeper implications than simple identification of powerful beings or phenomena. We believe that we have found the fundamental divinity presiding over this universe that has allowed all of those in attendance to blossom: the divinity of one’s Forever Self.”

“All beings, from great to small, have something in themselves: a true nature they may find and express with word and deed. When constrained by tradition, ignorance or bad luck, these small sparks may be snuffed out in untimely manner… but when individuals on this path manage to express themselves in full and reach the true understanding of who they are supposed to be, they can shake the galaxy. From grand rulers to reclusive mages, from dread villains to heroes beloved by all, these fully realized beings make reality a more vivid place, bringing about new colour to creation otherwise dull and grey. This climb need not ever end, beings becoming forces of reality itself and shaping the tapestry of existence for those that come after them!”

Pausing for effect, she lowers her previously raised and passionate voice back to more comfortable, academic level. “But universe is not truly fair place: the circumstances of one’s birth, relationships and sheer chance can all rob many of potential divinities of their opportunity to make their mark in our universe. That is where the efforts of Forever Self as a faith in, focused on perfecting all beyond the concerns of daily bread and physical infirmity. Who among us would not want to see what they are truly capable of becoming?”

“Who in this chamber would not wish to be a god?”

Allowing the question to hang in the air for several tantalizing seconds, Syndra bows her masked head lightly towards the presiding moderators. “Our faith is a true one: in the end, we are certain of that fact, no matter what beliefs others pursue in their search for meaning the likes of which we offer. We will continue our efforts until all realize our truth, for it is in interests of all to finally be whole.”

 

The Party

After the debate proper has finally wound down, the delegation of Forever Self disperses into small groups throughout the plaza to listen to the gathered representatives. Each of the three leaders has small number of their fellow adherents with them, free to be approached by anyone.

[Tychris1]

Doomweaver Serpent arrived in the usual pomp and splendour accustomed to Sorcerers of New Kildora. Their Pleasure Yacht Bountiful Beauty floated in orbit overhead with a small hedonistic party aboard to keep seats warm while the Doomweaver was away. A throng of thralls paved the way for their every step, a cascading staircase of fat and muscle that ultimately shifted to gracefully slide and place Serpent upon their designated seating. Bedecked in fine red robes, laced tenfold over with hair plucked from Vatbeasts, lined with golden patch designs of Imperial snakes and the sun in ouroboros. A drooping hood of blackened leather obscured their face, though the shadows slowly were banished with a raising of the wrist, and their bald head shone like the sands of Veehra at dawn. Lips laced with blood parted into a wide Cheshire smile and the High Doomweaver stood with arms spread to address all present.

 

"The Mother Serpent is Mother to all! Mother in fact to her very being! To create something from nothing, to make the impossible possible, to touch the untouchable and see the unseeable THAT is the Divine! She is like us, of flesh and blood and spirit, and yet she is so much more for every night she dies, shedding her mortal coil to reveal spiritual scales beneath, and every day she is reborn anew shedding her pallid skin and shining as the glorious dawn! Where once there was nothing then there was the Mother Serpent and the universe as we know it. A snake devouring its tail, the impossibility of the self and the other in one continuous loop which never began and shall never end, that is the true sign of the Divine. She guides us to better ourselves, to strengthen our resolve through adversity, knit the wounds of the past with knowledge of the future, and seek the perfection of the flesh. What is stronger, she asks, Flesh or Steel? What is steel compared to the hand that wields? What is a hand compared to the will that compels it to plunge into the fire heedless of pain or pleasure? One cannot fully trust the trappings of the material, for the truest strength the Mother Serpent teaches us is cultivating the eternal wellspring of inner power that resides in us all. What is the Divine you ask?

 

We are Divine."

 

 

[Kythia]

@Lumaeus @JBarca

Garrick frowns in the unmistakable air of a man who has opinions about what has just been said and is very consciously not expressing them. Possibly at great internal effort. Eventually he gives a little chuckle to himself and shrugs.

Her majesty is correct. As I've said, the worship of Coedd is localised and the practices and beliefs of one worshipper are not necessarily - in fact are incredibly unlikely to be - the beliefs of another.  To the Elves I became like a Elf, to win the Elves. To those under the Elif Dhaoine I became like one under the Elif Dhaoine (though I myself am not under the Elif Dhaoine), so as to win those under the Elif Dhaoine he quotes from some source or another.

[volthawk]

Arrival

With his representatives handling diplomatic matters further from home, Clagath is free to attend to matters on Sansar. While their diplomatic endeavours in the west of Chonkia were seeing...mixed success, as he preferred to call it, giving it too much of his personal attention and not giving his people some freedom to work would likely be counter-productive, so he instead looked abroad. The elf situation was something that was constantly changing and developing, and it would pay to give that a closer look, so Clagath finds himself on a fast ship crossing the ocean between the Reserve and Chonkia and following the coastline along to...what was it Scorcha told him the elves called it? Greater Alfheim? Yeah, that sounded about right. In any case, after mooring up to the landing platform the interplanetary guests were using, Clagath tells his lannan to wait there and heads off to find the ride over to the venue proper.

The Debate

Eilif Dhaoine does not put a representative forward for the debate - there are plenty of Coedd worshippers around already, as Clagath understands it, and in any case the government had not put itself in a position where it has a role in spreading and arguing for the faith. Eilif Dhaoine followed Coedd because the Dhaoine themselves followed Coedd, not because Clagath and the government told them that this was so. Clagath is content to let those with more of a stake in the topic argue about it amongst themselves.

The Party

Clagath was impressed. The Fiorids couldn't be accused of not giving this thing their all - as expected, given some of their recent international troubles and this being the first chance many of them had to see the elves at their best and most diplomatic. After loading up a plate with some of the best-looking food on offer, Clagath takes a seat by one of the tables and grabs one of the slaves running around the place to tell them to let the Fiorids know where he was if they wish to discuss things with him.