Dwarven Slinger Wrote:"Slings'n stones'll break yer bones, a world of hurt befall you." -Unofficial motto of the Khazad 12th Vault Gaurd Militia.
Tax Office Wrote:"It is said that death and taxes are the only certainties in life. Try to avoid the latter, and you'll find the former soon follows." -Manish Deengar, Grigori Merchant.
Excellent, Bob! I should really write a few brief entries myself....
In the meantime though:
So I've got a definite order now, barring changes to Rivanna's traits that might see her chapters changed or exised. Volanna is chapter 2, Rivanna chapter 3, Svartalfar Palace chapter 4, Stonewarden (yes, Stonewarden) Chapter 5, Illusionist Chapter 6, somethingsomething Leaves Chapter 7 (the only one I've yet to write) and Nyxkin Chapter 8. Always assuming any of it actually fits. In any case:
Ljosalfar Palace Wrote:Chapter 1: Sarcodes Cycle
How many years had passed in exile since the first battle was lost, in a winter never broken by the spring? Arendel Phaedra shivered, alone on her balcony. Even after all the years of civil war, a part of her heart still refused to believe that Faeryl - Faeryl Viconia, the Winter Queen, protector of their people through the harshest seasons of each year, and long her beloved sister in all but blood and name - had turned against her people so completely. Arendel still tried to convince herself at times that there had been something she had missed, some chance to make things right, before the deadly persecution sanctioned by the Winter Court had led at last to the eruption of civil war. Perhaps if she had trusted Faeryl just a little bit more, and echoed her call for the new traditions of her Winter Court, their people might have followed their mutual lead; peace might have held, and unnumbered lives might have been saved. Yet how could she have willingly abandoned the ancient traditions to which she and all her people had devoted themselves for centuries? Even in retrospect, how could she wish to have more deeply trusted a Winter Queen whose new rites were symbols of intrigue and deception, and who in the end had sanctioned night raids on the homes of Ljosalfar innocent of any crime but their old and steady faith?
Slowly, she shook her head, huddling her shoulders against the cold, staring out across the frozen plains. She drew a deep breath, blinking latent tears from her eyes before they could fall, and exhaled, gathering herself, standing tall. Hating the choice she had to make, wishing the past could change, did nothing to absolve her of her responsibility. Ill-equipped though she still felt to lead her people through the winter after centuries as their Summer Queen, Arendel Phaedra knew her duty, and steeled herself to it silently: In part - in very small part - her task was to make the best choice she could, that would lead to least disaster for her people. Yet she knew the larger part of her duty as well: To stand behind the choice she made, and then to accept and take the blame when it went ill and brought pain and misery and too great a measure even of death upon everthing she cared for and everyone she knew. Too well she knew, in the unceasing winter that seemed only to grow more bitter with each passing month and year, that no choice she made - nor any made by any of her people - could go otherwise anymore. Her choice was between catastrophes, and even so was no choice at all: She already knew very well what she had to do.
She looked sadly over her palace - the palace raised too close to Faeryl's own, the better to sustain their civil war - her eyes lingering, yearningly, on the swaying trees of the great atrium, beneath the Summer Dome. The glass helped keep the winter snows at bay, but she well knew how the cold seeped in through the ground; the beautiful life and green, growing, health of that little grove, like the whispering breeze that swayed its branches, drew constantly on the palace's gentle magics - and on hers. The trees would live, perhaps even thrive, so long as the spells held out, but she knew no enchantment alone could sustain her people forever against the winter's growing cold - and they were quickly approaching a time when such magic as they had must be turned to meet more urgent needs than even all the hope and cheer she could bring her people through her beloved palace grove.
She descended from her balcony, down the winding tower stairs, toward the base of the grove itself, where the heads of the great families awaited her decision - a decision, as she finally acknowledged to herself, wholly driven by necessity. The civil war should have ended after the loss of that first battle, when the Winter Court, apparently far better prepared for rebellion than the sudden, outraged rebels themselves, had nearly captured or slain the entire Summer Court. It was only with the assistance of many local civillians, her own brother's noble self-sacrifice, and the timely arrival of support from outside the city that she or any of her Court's leadership had managed to escape. Had she bowed to reality then, and led the many supporters she found beyond the city walls as far as possible from Faeryl's center of power, there might have been hope yet for the people of both courts and all those who stood with each.
Instead, they had warred, her people insisting to themselves that they fought for what was right because it sounded so much better than killing - and dying - for revenge. Arendel's palace, raised without the aid or consent of the Winter Queen, near enough to the Winter Court to continue the deadly strife, was nevertheless too far away: Far enough to prevent the forces of the Winter Court from overrunning it before its defenses were ready, but therefore and by the same token too far away for any hope of victory. Marching painful miles through the hostile and frigid wilderness, her forces dared not rest without triple guards, nor separate to hunt, lest they be ambushed by the highly-mobile forces of their nominal enemy ... and all the while, along the way, they increasingly had to do battle their true enemies as well: All the manifestations of the deadly cold, together with foul and icy creatures seemingly born of the winter itself, from monstrous beasts to the malicious little frostlings - like pale blue goblins with bones of ice and horns like icicles protruding from their heads - that loved to strike during blizards from the midst of the swirling snows.
A journey through the winter wastes was difficult enough, but a journey directly toward the heart of the enemy's power, with the magic of Faeryl Viconia and her Court Illusionists to counter any spells Arendel and her Court Mages might work on her soldiers' behalf, was suicide. More than one rebel army, depleted and demoralized by the journey even when the Nyxkin - elven riders of the Winter Court on snow leopard steeds - hadn't decimated them already, had arrived at the walls of the Winter Court only to be stopped cold, forced to fall back, and then torn to shreds at last by a deadly counterattack. The best Arendel could say in defense of their war effort was that the Winter Court's forces, when they dared to come so far, were turned away with equal ease at the gates of the Summer Court.
The war was worse than a failure: It had ravaged the whole of the elven people - the Ljosalfar of Arendel's ancient traditions and the lately-self-styled Svartalfar of the Winter Court - at a time when each would be in dire need of all their strength, and perhaps of the other's strength as well. Surrender of any kind was no longer an option; Faeryl and her court would see to it that anyone who did would either die or come to wish they had ere long. With the choice of doing nothing identical to continuing the war with fewer and shorter sorties as the winter closed in all around and Svartalfar huntresses and Nyxkin who seemed to somehow thrive in winter tried to cut them off from everything outside their defensive walls, there was only one real possibility: To flee.
She came before the gathered assembly, and stood at the feet of her Summer Throne in all its green-sheltered grandeur, formed by spell-assisted nature from the bole of a still-living tree ... and she told the gathered heads of the great Ljosalfar Houses her decree. There still were places in the world where a few elves survived who were loyal to their Summer Queen. If she led her people in search of a new home in one of these small and sometimes-secret settlements, her magic and the spells of her Court Mages could help to sustain them all without danger of intervention from the Winter Queen or her Court - if only because they all would be so far away. They would have the choice of turning aside from danger whenever it manifested itself, instead of needing constantly to march toward a single, heavily-defended goal. It would soon even be safe to rest with normal watches and to live - so far as possible - off the land, if only they could leave Faeryl and her court far enough behind. Even the huntresses and Nyxkin could only safely travel so far afield if they intended to ever return to their Queen and Court. Soon enough, the two Courts would be so far apart that no invading army from either side could hope even to reach the other's gates across the deadly winter snows.
A few loud voices persisted on other sides of the debate, and for a while they were answered, but the decision had been placed in Arendel's hands already, and her answer had been proclaimed. Her people, she knew, were beginning to make preparations, and there was nothing left to do but to lead them and to aid them - and she prayed, without knowing who could possibly hear her prayers, for the welfare of her people in the terrible migration that lay ahead, through snows far deeper than they had been when she first fled the Winter Court, and that would only be growing deeper as time passed.
That night, with preparations already underway, alone out on her balcony once more, she looked toward the horizon and the city that lay beyond, and her heart offered another wistful, silent prayer - for no matter what crimes the Winter Court had committed, no matter though Faeryl Viconia, whom she had loved almost as a sister, might be as treacherous as the most vengeful of her advisors could believe, still she knew in her heart that there were innocent elves among those Faeryl had named the Svartalfar, and they too were her people, or had been in the summer months of bygone years. Thanks to the long labors of the Winter Court in times of bitter cold, they perhaps were better prepared than her own rebel people could be, but even so, she was acutely aware of their suffering, for in the end they were as vulnerable to the unceasing snows and frosts and deadly winterborn beasts as she.
(July 1st, 2014, 00:24)RefSteel Wrote: So I've got a definite order now
...for some definition of "definite." The reason I've not posted two of chapters of the Sarcodes cycle that I've written is that I'm not sure how well they really illustrate the unit they're nominally talking about, and I'm still not sure of Rivanna's place in the Cycle. (I'm hoping to get away with using Chapter 7 to complete the triangle with the other three.)
So while I'm waffling about that...
Boar Rider Wrote:Deep in the Underhome, the only crops that can be grown are certain fungi, roots, and tubers. Such livestock as the Dwarves can keep in the world below must learn to survive on a steady diet of crops like these - and only one type of livestock actually thrives on it.
Fortunately, thanks to their compact nature, Dwarves who come to live in the surface world are able to use the powerful, hardy boars they raise this way as steeds. Often, they will give their mounts endearing names, in keeping with their people's love for these noble beasts. Thus is Kardir the Mighty famed for his exploits upon the back of Thromdim, and Formas the Bold for his audacious charges upon Sifissis - or, to render their names in the human tongue, Battlehammer the Mighty on the back of his noble Sausage, and Stoneback the Bold upon Bacon Grease.
Moving this discussion over from the other thread:
Existing in-game Civilopedia Entry for Sheaim Wrote:There is no history of the Sheaim as a people before the Age of Rebirth. As the Age of Ice ended, they were a people from all civilizations gathered toward one purpose: ending creation through the fell magic of Armageddon spells. Most pursue this focus to increase their arcane knowledge, some believe they will receive an eternal reward for destroying creation, while a few just want the world to end.
That's what I can't make sense of. If you can reconcile that with what you wrote, with the rest of the world lore, or with anything else at all, that's great. If you're willing to just ignore it, good plan. I'm not trying to do either one anymore because I can't stand the Sheaim anyway*, and ultimately, I couldn't find a way to make any story that involves them interesting or palatable to me. That's not a problem with the civ of course; it just makes me the wrong person to write something for one of their leaders, as I finally recognized.
*- No, I don't plan on explaining why. This is partly because it would take too long; I (generally pretty strongly) dislike literally everything related to the Sheaim (well, I guess their palace is okay?) - from story to strategy to gameplay to leader histories - for various (often wildly different) reasons.
Also of note: I edited the Boar Rider entry above to make it a little shorter and (in my opinion) better. I won't generally do this with shortish ones like that, but sometimes I can't help myself apparently.
Well, I'm still not sure how well they fit, but I think I'll just post this now anyway; you can tell me if you think it's problematic for purposes of the existing mythology. All the Rivanna stuff can be cleanly removed anyway, and this can in particular since Rivanna's entry itself has a(n apparent) resolution of its own.
Stonewarden Wrote:Chapter 5: Sarcodes Cycle
Deep in an inner cloister, Lord Fodran Thras met the stony eyes of the temple's keeper. Slowly, carefully weighing each word, in the deep and powerful voice that befitted a lord of the Khazad, he said, "They have been of great service, Stonewarden. Nor have they done any deed that would cast shame upon their honored names. They ask but little of us. How in good faith can we turn them now away?"
Quietly, hands folded piously before him, his eyes cast down to seek the wisdom of the great Mother below, Ninth Stonewarden Ondrak Khar replied, "Then think you that their dealings with us have been in good faith?"
Lord Fodran stirred and shook his head, not in answer to the question. "Had they said truly whence they came, and who would eat of the food we brought, it would have done more harm than what they did. We might have seen in them a separate invasion, and divided our forces even as we refused their aid."
The Stonewarden's eyes were on him, stern and questioning. "I ask if their dealings have been in good faith, and you answer that their deception has benefited us."
With a slow, deep sigh, Lord Fodran rose and began to pace the little cloister. "Their dealings with us have been honest, and yes, they were made in good faith, for they have done all that they promised. Their identity they concealed from us, and perhaps they suppose it still concealed, though our suspicions have been many times confirmed. Our secret eyes in the mountains now have even seen their hunters practicing their craft upon the surface. Yet I say that their identity and their dealings are not the same, and their deception merely enabled the deal which they faithfully have kept."
Lord Thras frowned beneath his beard, as though his words did not quite ring true even in his own ears, and the Stonewarden asked him, "Think you that is all that their deception has done?" His eyes found Lord Fodran's once again. "Yet you spoke of that already; at least they have not by their actions desecrated stolen names. Yet you say that they hunt in the wilds? Why, if they receive all that they need from beneath the earth?"
With a slow shrug, Lord Fodran answered, "Hunt they do, and gather such herbs as still can be obtained. They are elves; perhaps they crave other meats to supplement the pork we share with them, and greener things to eat." He paused, swallowing his disgust at the notion of elven food, and giving Stonewaren Khar time to do the same. "They may have other reasons though," he added soberly. "They may be aware that their future is tenuous while it depends upon our generosity, whether because they fear that we will detect their ruse eventually, or because they suspect when we no longer need them, we may prove unfaithful."
The Stonewarden raised one dark and shaggy brow. "Do you suppose we needed them at any time?"
Lord Fodran had to look away. "For the Khazad? For the Underhome?" He shook his head. "You need not remind me that we need no help to survive and to remain strong." But even as he said it, he met Ondrak's eyes once more. "They still have been of great value; many live today who would have died without their aid. Tell those, or tell their families, that we did not need our friends when this deep winter led so many creatures of the world above to try their luck and strength and lives against our defenses."
For a long moment, their eyes held, but at last, Stonewarden Ondrak bowed his head, and consulted as ever with She Who Dwells Beneath. "You would persuade me, then," he murmured, "that they perform their craft well, though their craft is the art of illusion; that they deal honestly with us though they do so under stolen names; that we must continue to give them the little that they ask in order to repay the debt of gratitude we have incurred."
Nodding slowly, Lord Thras answered, "It is what I feel, and the reason I have come to consult with you."
Once more, the Stonewarden nodded, and then there was a meditative silence as he bowed low over his clasped hands, facing the holy earth below. When he straightened at last, he had his answer. "You may be right that we would not have trusted them had they spoken only truth, and if so, we must learn to better know friend from foe: It is never wise to trust more deeply where you are deceived than where you are confronted with the truth. Yet let us not heap folly upon folly by letting their deception stand. There is no good faith in a stolen name, but a transgression may be forgiven when it has done no harm, or when recompense is made, if it is owned. This then I will proclaim: We must make the true nature of the aid we have received known to all who once believed the lie we were told; and if our willingness to bring them gifts arises from the value of their aid and not the love of the honored dead whose names they stole, then let us not perpetuate the lie on either side. Let them not think our gifts to them are meant for our honored dead, but give them the opportunity, when they know the deal will hold, to own and to admit the truth we know."
Lord Fodran slowly ran one thick and heavy hand across the back of a cloister chair. "It is a test of their true friendship that you propose then," he said at length. "It seems a weighted test though: Who among us could emerge into their midst to deliver this message of ours without giving them cause to fear that we are come to repel them from our caves? I would not risk the conflict that might arise then from mere misunderstanding, nor risk the life of any of my men by making him my messenger."
"I shall be the messenger myself, should our people approve this choice," the Ninth Stonewarden answered. "For am I not warden to this part of the Underhome? Coming alone and in holy orders, I can hardly fill their hearts with dread, and I shall try if I can to speak to them from within the tomb where we have left our gifts for them. My life I set at less value than the Way of the Earthmother and the course our people follow - we and any who would be our friends. For in my teachings I have shared the strength of the stone with each of you, and so you all shall be protected, whether I live or die, by the true shield of our faith."
I left the outcome ambiguous for similar reasons to the ambiguous end of Volanna's chapter, and I'm hoping this also ensures that it fits in with the rest of the game's existing lore. If so, I'll post the others too sometime soon(ish).
Small edit: The Airship allows the Kuriotates to transport units through the air. They're especially important...cities.
No entry yet.
Air Elementals
Filled. Correct LE link.
Filled.
Angels of Death
Edit: Angels of Death are invisible assassins that pass on the withered promotion to enemies they fight. In addition, any strike they make against a city garrison reaps a bloody toll, decreasing the population of the city by 1.
Filled.
Aurealis
The Aurealis is the only summon which starts with 2 affinity, allowing it to easily scale up to massive strength, especially effective for players with Chalid.
No entry yet.
Bear
Filled.
No entry yet.
Beast of Agares
Filled.
No entry yet.
Beastmaster
Small edit: ...A [strikethrough]Grove[/strikethrough] Hunting Lodge is required...
No entry yet.
Beserker
Filled.
No entry yet.
Blooded Werewolf
Filled.
No entry yet.
Boar Rider
Edit: Boar Riders may be the slowest mounted unit of the game, but they pack quite a punch against any poor horses they manage to catch.
No entry yet.
Adventurer
Filled.
No entry yet.
Centaur
Filled.
No entry yet.
Centaur Lancer
Filled.
No entry yet.
Champion
Filled.
No entry yet.
Chanter
Filled.
No entry yet.
Confessor
Filled.
No entry yet.
Courtesan
Small edit: They have a good chance to enslave their conquests.
Filled
Cultist
Filled.
No entry yet.
Diseased Corpses
Edit: These shambling corpses are as strong as the more expensive champions, however they need the help of a priest to cure them of their crushing disease.
Filled.
Dwarven Sliner
Filled
No entry yet.
Eater of Dreams
Filled.
No entry yet
Elephant
Filled.
No entry yet
Flagbearers
Edit: Flagbearers are mildly useful stack boosters, granting the morale promotion to units on their tile.
Small edit: ...Spell, available with Metamagic 1. These scouts are slightly better than hawks, use them...
Filled.
Frostling Archer/Wolf Rider
These vicious remnants of the Age of Ice can be woken from their slumber with the Samhein ritual to harrass your opponents. Beware, however, for they are irritable when woken, and will be quick to lash out at any civilized being nearby.
Filled
Check spelling of Samhain.
Galleon
No entry yet
Filled.
Galley
No entry yet
Filled
Ghost
Filled
No entry yet
Giant Spider
No entry yet
Filled. Replacement welcome.
Background not very flavorful.
Giant Tortoise
No entry yet
No entry yet
Goblin
Small edit: Though slower than usual scouts, Goblins...
Filled.
Gorilla
No entry yet
No entry yet
Great Bard/Sage/Engineer/Merchant
Needs substantial work
Needs substantial work
Needs substantial work
Great Commander
No entry yet
Filled.
Great Prophet
No entry yet
Filled.
Greater Werewolf
Filled.
No entry yet
Griffon
No entry yet
No entry yet
Guardian Vines
Filled.
No entry yet
Pick up again at "H".
Erebus in the Balance - a FFH Modmod based around balancing and polishing FFH for streamlined competitive play.
Oh, forgot to add. I'm interested in adding some extra articles to the FFH concepts section of the Civilopedia. Stuff like dungeon results, or how to handle lairs, and so on. We don't need to write anything new for that - just check through some of the old reports, or posts you've made in the past to explain a concept to someone, and we can throw it in.
Largely this is for having an ease of access for this stuff. I'm considering including the GP bulb lines in as well, because no-one can ever remember those without prompting.
Erebus in the Balance - a FFH Modmod based around balancing and polishing FFH for streamlined competitive play.
(January 25th, 2015, 20:36)Qgqqqqq Wrote: I'm considering including the GP bulb lines in as well, because no-one can ever remember those without prompting.
