Some Snippets from The World

Discussions about constructed worlds, cultures and any topics related to constructed societies.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 11 Mar 2017 00:11

Lambuzhao wrote:Works from halcyon days gain a more hirquitallient voice -Huzzah~!

Your sticktoitiveness needs must inspire me, as I look about to corral and redact mine own 20-something 'children', jellical cats though they be.

'Tis to create, and in creating live
A being more intense, that we endow
With form our fancy, gaining as we give
The life we image, even as I do now.
What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,
Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,
Invisible but gazing, as I glow
Mix'd with the spirit, blended with thy birth,
And feeling still with thee in my nobler feelings' mirth.

Lord Byron Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (last three words, Lambuzhao's emendation)
Wow! I appreciate all you guys' praise! Thank you! I was almost embarrassed to even say anything about it --- I guess when I looked at it, I just kind of cringed with oo-how-horrifically-juvenile-that-seems-now-ment.

But yeah, here's to supercallifragilistichirquitallitation, herding jellicose cats and looking back with fondness at what creative works we've done in the past and look forward to in the future!


Looking back, I guess not all of them were that horrendous! The original (and much smaller) Compendium, I still have that. It's pretty reasonable, bound with Elmer's glue into a leather cover. An Historicall Account of Hoopelle, that one's not too bad. That one was actually the hardest to bind, because I tried to do a standard Western binding. Not gonna try that again! Libra Chemica was also Western bound and in leather covers. Saint Stannic's Practicall Chymystry Book was written into a nicely bound sketch book, so no extra work there! Those two were actually rather nicely done, particularly the latter.

Necrologica was okay, but too reliant on early Ultima books for the magical aspects. There was also a three-in-one that dealt with holidays, mathematics and numismatics. Not so well drawn in the picture department. Both of those Western bound in phake vhellum.

My favorite was always Isaack Walton's Compleat Bestiary and Populary, even though he left Daine out entirely! That one was bound with grocery bag papers. And like a couple of the others, written on that horrible yellow phake vhellum.

Oh! And then S. Swan Squibbman's Recipes. A book of delicious cookery. Never one to leave well enough alone, I devised a whole set of alchemical symbols for foods and ingredients. Plus it has a handy butter ruler on the back cover! And nó actual Teleranian cookery included!

Hunh. I guess I don't feel so bad about Compendium now. [:)] Just one of the stepping stones along the way!

If this wasn't happening *here* in India, twould be a good video of a small book binding shop in Auntimoany. Minus the cell phone & Western clothing... But I sure wish I had a good solid awl like that. That would be very handy indeed!
eldin raigmore wrote:That's beautiful! And clearly a labor of love!

("Woefully shallow and incomplete", my ass!)
[:$] Well... I guess if I take it as a salesman's sample, it doesn't actually have to be "complete"...

But yeah, you are spot on: a labour of love! That is, by design, what The World is.
Last edited by elemtilas on 30 Apr 2018 03:25, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by eldin raigmore » 12 Mar 2017 18:11

elemtilas wrote:If this wasn't happening *here* in India, ....
I know you're referring to the location (Varanasi) where that video was shot, but:
Are you perchance now located in India?
I forget where you've said you're from. And you may have re-located, whether short-term or long-term or permanently.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 12 Mar 2017 19:08

eldin raigmore wrote:
elemtilas wrote:If this wasn't happening *here* in India, ....
I know you're referring to the location (Varanasi) where that video was shot, but:
Are you perchance now located in India?
I forget where you've said you're from. And you may have re-located, whether short-term or long-term or permanently.
Ah, no --- never been to India (except via Google Earth)! I was just noting that you'll find bookbinding shops very much of that sort in the cities of the Eastlands of The World.

Also: I've got an awl similar in size to that one on order, so we'll see how it goes!

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 20 Mar 2017 20:29

The Logia of Maradacq

The Logia of Maradacq are an unassuming collection of wise sayings, two dozen in number, and of considerable ancientry. Little is known of Maradacq
except that this is the name of an Anian scholar who lived in the Empire some six thousand years before the present age. The Logia do not comprise a
unified system of philosophy, but in stead the work seems to be simply a random collection of such sayings. The place of origin of the maradacquian sayings is
the ancient Empire of Ania, those wastrel lands now referred to as the Shadowy North. And indeed, all twenty-four are to be found within the larger body of
tcani, or sayings of the sages.

Two aspects of this collection truly make it stand out. The first is the material upon which it is written. The leaves of the small book that constitute the original
manuscript are only about three inches by three, but the material is a very light, thin and pliant metal. It is known to be neither iron nor silver nor platinum
nor gold nor copper. In fact, it is silvery in appearance, but the leaves are far lighter and more flexible than similar leaves of hammered silver.

Second is the language in which the collection is written. While the underlying sayings are known to have been written originally in the ancient Anian tongue,
Maradacq's collection is written in no known language. Of course, scholars of the ancient Anian manuscript tradition are well aware of the meanings of the
words. It seems that when Maradacq made the collection, and for reasons now long hidden by the mists of time, a kind of strange invented language
would be created for the purpose, and also that a novel script would be used to engrave the words upon the pages. A very curious choice indeed, to engage in
what philosophers now call glossopoesy, the artful and poetic work in tongues and runes. It is as if the whole point of the work was simply intended to be
a beautiful way to study a collection of known sayings. Even now it is a matter of considerable lament among religious and philosophical scholars that so little
is known the person whose genius created words and medium to express those words.

1. Every person can live lovingly for one day, until the sun sets. The wise person lives in this way every day after.

2. Observe all; overlook much; correct little.

3. Surrender to the wind and ride it!

4. Have courage for the great sorrows; have patience for the small sorrows.

5. To conquer yourself is the greatest victory; to be conquered by yourself is worse than the worst defeat.

6. Do what you can for others, wherever you are and with whatever you have.

7. If you would renew yourself some day, let that day be every day. For the wise, every day is the day of reckoning.

8. Don't look where you fell; rather, look where you slipped.

9. Take each moment as if it were your first. Or your last.

10. Two people may differ and both be wrong. Two people may differ and both be right. Take to heart the latter or the former will sweep your heart away.

11. Cultivate a heart that never hardens, a patience that never tires, a touch that never injures.

12. Treat people like people and they will be people. Treat people like beasts and they will be beasts.

13. Do not condemn the judgement of another. You may both be wrong.

14. The wise archon asks: Am I not destroying my enemies by making of them friends?

15. Mind the little things. A pin prick will empty a large water sack.

16. Fear less, hope more; talk less, say more; hate less, love more; all good things will come to you.

17. There is often more to fear in the things we desire than in the things we fear.

18. The wise know two options: remedy it or welcome it.

19. Trust providence but never dance on a rotten beam.

20. Learn patience. An olifant may be swallowed one bite at a time.

21. One generation plants the tree; another generation enjoys the shade.

22. If the world seems cold to you, kindle a fire to warm it.

23. Think pure thoughts; speak the truth; treat others as you would be treated.

24. The power of love overcomes all adversaries.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 25 Mar 2017 05:33

The 25th of March, the day of the New Year! The first day of the year of the Triumph of Despair, so I'll tell you a little new year's tale.

The other man sitting at the bar had heard the story a thousand times. He was a shortish fellow, clean shaven head covered only by a simple round flat cap; of
indeterminate age and no apparent occupation as he had been sitting on the stool at the bar for two years. He smiled inwardly: the new year, revealed a
fortnight ago to be called Triumph of Despair, was by now only a couple hours old. And he had only been sitting in this tavern since supper time yesterday,
when the year was still Mended Peacock.

He glanced over at the first man. Now that fellow seemed old. Old and haggard. But it could have been the drink. That will age a young man quicker than an
unhappy wife! He had fallen silent for a short while, but the second man was used to this, so he patiently bided his time. He had no more pressing
engagements and nowhere else to be than right here, now in this tavern.

The first man had been regaling his crater of cyder with random tales of woe until this other man turned towards him, taking an interest.

“Go on,” said the second man. “What happened after you and your mates tipped over the old waggon?”

“Heh! Well, weren’t we in for a shocker! ‘Honestly, constables!’ we said. ‘We was just out for a bit of fun. You know, cart tipping. We didn’t know you honorables
was inside having a bit of play at cards!’

“Well sir, the constable didn’t look at all amused. Bastard. Made us tip the waggon back up on its wheels and it was heavy, I can tell you that! Then he had the
nerve to make us get in and they put us in straps! And then Josham said...

“What a liberty!” said the other man, doodling on a bit of thick paper, interrupting the first. “Do, tell me about the waggon.”

“The waggon? Well, nothing much to tell. An ordinary waggon of the City Watch. Mind you, I’ve seen the inside of em a few times, I can tell you! They’re pretty
cramped, actually. Room enough for four lads in straps sitting on the wood benches along the walls. In the back, space for two constables and their gear. A
kind of heavy bamboo gate separates the first and second class compartments. Heh!” He laughed at his own little joke. “The two other constables ride up on
the driver’s bench. The walls are thick wood and there ain’t no windows up front. Back where the constables sit, they’ve got shuttered windows. Another kind of
gate and thick doors close off the back.”

“Where did they take you?”

“Well, we got to spend the new year's eve in New Bricks, up in Pinkerton Court. Ain’t cozy like Old Bricks. Now that was a classy jail. Cushions on the benches
and the leather of the straps wasn’t all hard and stiff. But justice is justice, as they say. The guard at the high desk there just took our testimony and wrote it
up in a big ledger and then we was sat down on the bench to wait. And, sure we had to wait quite a long time! We was pretty sobered up by the time the man
called us.

“He had a big ledger in his arms and a guard with him, and a whole row of us was led off down a long hall towards the court rooms. Even at night, the place is
pretty busy. Who’d have thought so many thugs and lowlifes would be out and about getting caught so late at night!

“Anyway, they brought us into a court room and we was all sat down on a bench again. Probably about the size of the common room it was.” He indicated the
diminutive expanse of the tavern’s common room. “Three judges sat up on a high bench and we had to look up to see em. The man said his bit and took the
ledger up the stairs to the judges.”

“What did he say, the man?” asked the other.

“What did he say? Well, I don’t rightly recall all the other fellows’ names. But he read off our names and what the constables said we done. ‘Roram
Wredemanson, charged with rambling drunk and tipping the constables’ waggon and hinterfering with the hadministration of justice!’ he says.

“Well, I nudged Ned, me mate, and he looked sidewiselike towards Ted — that’s his brother, is Ted — and none of us remember anything about ‘hadministration
of justice’!

“Anyway, the judge in the middle read our our testimonies and asked us if that were right. I stood up for us three and said ‘well, your graces, we reckon that’s
about right as far it goes. But begging your pardons, if you’ll excuse the pun, we don’t recollect nothing about ‘hinterfering with the hadministration of justice’!

“Why, Ned, wasn’t it me that ‘pologized to the constables for overturning their little game of quist? And weren’t it you and Ted as helped the good constables
gather up their cards and the coins that had spilled of their little table when the waggon tipped over?

“Aye, said Ted and Ned, that’s so!

“Well sir,” said the first man; “didn’t those judges raise their eyebrows when they heard our story! Long and short it was, the judges not only didn’t throw us in
the donjon, but they sent us on our way with their compliments, saying we’d done a good civic duty by alerting them to a waggon load of lazy constables. And
that’s how I ended up here, able to take a nice quiet new year sip before the old year is too long past!”

The other man, continued doodling and jotting on his bit of paper. Then, with a satisfied grin, he stood up from the stool, bowed to the first man and thanked
him for the story and left his copper shilling on the counter for the barman. The first man turned to watch him go; he retrieved his old cloak from the hook on
the wall and a broom and dustpan from nearby. With a slight tip of his round cap, the little man out the door and into the early morning of a new year.

He’d heard the story a thousand times. The story of drunken shennanigans and mix ups with the Watch over the course of many, many years. Yet he never
seemed to tire of gathering such stories.

“Heh. I should write a book!” he said half to himself as he slung broom and dustpan over one shoulder. “Hah! Of course, I am writing a book! The dead-end
narratives of people no one else will pay attention to but Us. I’m sure no one will want to read stories with no heroes. Stories of nameless men going about
their glamorless lives?”

He ambled along the moonlit length of Long Street, cataloguing in his mind where tonight’s narratives will be filed when once he got back. The little man turned
down a narrow alley that to most people met with a dead-end at an old brick wall. Most people never notice when little old men carrying brooms and dustpans
turn into narrow alleys. And that’s just as well, perhaps. The fame goes to the well known bards; but still, someone has to record these lesser stories in the
Books, even if no one will ever read them. The lesser stories of everyman.

No one saw a faint bluish glow flicker along the surface of the bricks lining the alley. No one noticed that the little old man who had ambled in, never ambled
out again.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 26 Apr 2017 04:52

A Peek at Philosophy

A collection of short everyday logia, known as Amarock's Whole Life Maxim is attributed to Wulfgard Amarock de Lupoburgo (1803-1912).
Lupoburgo was a relatively short-lived philosopher(*) of Auntimoany whose ponderments dwelt mostly on matters of dying and the perspective on life
that only death can bring one. He is known to have collected a large index of logia on the nature of Death, the nature of dying and the wisdom of those
folks who deal with the dead as their normal work or avocation. He also studied the physical nature of dying under several well respected thanatometrists
and eventually compiled a great work called the Big Blue Book of Meeting One's Timely End. Notable maxims include:

  • Sure death ain't easy; but it is the only fair game in town. Maybe not today, and maybe not tommorow, but eventually everyone is a winner!
  • In the morning when you wake up, say to yourself: I'm not going to die today! Be happy every day of your life that you've been right so many times and
    for so long!
  • Death keeps no calendar. So why worry about the time?
  • The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears: why worry? Sooner or later, you'll get it right!
  • The fear of death is the same as the fear of life: live your life fully and you'll be prepared to die any time.
  • Live every day as if twas your last. And one day you'll be right.
  • Some old bugger once said "everyman is created equal". Tell that to the poor sod that carts the Lord Mayor's nightsoil out to Crapper's Field! Soothly,
    everyman is created equal in only two respects: a rich man's crap smells as bad a poor man's crap; and both rich and poor alike will meet the same Death.

NB: looks like he got his wish early!


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 23 May 2017 05:22

The Tale of the Wooing of Mereck the Hunter

❦❦ ❦❦

This is a somewhat bawdy tale told in a heroic manner much reminiscent of those told by the great Hartmanas, and now be recorded in the Red Book of
and also the Tales of Old kept at Gamle's library. It is not as overt as some tales the Daine tell; but has a proper lesson in it none the
less. (Collected in 1743)

In the long ago, there was a young hunter and his name was Mereck. Barely of age, he was always able to bag whatever game he wanted, whether that game
was squirrel, fox, rabbit, boar, deer, bear or any other beast; they all seemed to leap in front of his swift sharp arrows, vying for the honor to die at his hand.
One day in the back half of Spring, Mereck was hunting near the Place of Three Lakes as he often did. He saw in one of his traps a very lovely and remarkable
rabbit. It had very soft white fur, and was remarkable in that it was quite tame. He thought it too beautiful to kill and eat, so he carried it in his arms. As he
was wondering what he could do with the rabbit, he bethought himself of Tallio, a lovely girl of the Leaping Hart folk, beautiful beyond her years, whom he had
seen at several festivals in the land. She was not yet of age and was still unaware of those things boys and girls do together; and he thought he might make
an advantageous position for himself with a gift of the rabbit. So he went over to her place, thinking to win her with the rabbit.

When Mereck came to where she lived, he found that she was alone in her family’s lodge. She saw the rabbit he had with him, and was instantly delighted
with it. He said: “Pretty Tallio, I see that you are enchanted by the rabbit, its soft fur and tameness. Would you care to trade something of value for it?” She
so wanted the rabbit that she said: “Yes! What do you want for it?” Then he: “For the rabbit, I want your love.”

“My love?” she asked. “I don’t know if I have that. Look here,” said she and Tallio showed the lad her treasures. “I have bracelets and earrings and many fine
furs and blankets. Take what you like!, but I don’t have any love in here.”

The hunter insisted: “I won’t accept earrings or bracelets. I have many such things. I don’t want for furs and blankets for I can hunt and bring down any beast
I want; for I want nothing but your love.” He eventually convinced her, and they agreed to the trade in the usual way.

Tallio asked: “How can you find my love if I don’t have any?”

Then he: “Is anyone at home?”

Then she: “My mother and brothers are hunting today, as yesterday and tomorrow. And no one else is in the house.”

“That is good,” said Mereck, “because this is something we can do alone.”

They went to where she sleeps and he leaned his beautiful bow and long sharp arrows against the wall and cast off his mocka and his raka, then carefully
removed her raka and dalneri; then they lay down together. He talked a little, speaking of the beauty of her face and the grace of her body; he kissed her
previously untasted mouth and in hardly any time at all, Tallio cried out when Mereck found her love. He got up, readying himself to leave. She pulled him
down by his braids saying: “where are you going so soon? You’re not finished so soon, are you? Have you found all my love?”

She would not let him go so soon and he knelt beside the young girl, speaking now of her lovely shoulders and her strong embrace. And a second they lay
down together; he kisser her no longer previously untasted mouth and in hardly any time at all, Tallio cried out louder than before when Mereck found a little
more of Tallio’s love. And a second time he got up, readying himself to leave. And a second time, she pulled him down to her by his long brown braids, saying:
“I am sure I have plenty of love left, if only you would look for it. I don’t want you to leave feeling cheated!”

She would not let him go so soon and he knelt beside the young girl, speaking now of her long black hair and the round curves of her two shapely brows. And
a third time they lay down together; he kissed her now oft tasted mouth and in hardly any time at all, Tallio cried out, even louder than before, when Mereck
found still more of Tallio’s love. And a third time Mereck got up, readying himself to leave. And this third time, Tallio let him go, satisfied with her trade.
Mereck put on his raka and his mocka, leaving the girl sitting among the furs and blankets; and he went home smiling, well satisfied with his trade.

When her mother and brothers came home, they saw their little Tallio with the rabbit, for she was fondling it and petting it. They asked her where she had
gotten such a lovely rabbit, and she told them exactly how she had gotten it. Her mother became angry and pulled at her young girl’s glossy black hair. She
cried out: “How can you have done this thing!? You have not come of age!” Her brothers chastised her, saying: “It wasn’t your time yet! And anyway, who is
this scoundrel, sneaking around and sniffing around your sleeping place? What he stole from you, you can now not give away to another boy, you know!”

This distressed Tallio very much, and she was no longer very pleased by her bargain. She prayed that Mereck, whose name she did not know, would come her
way again to take back the trade, to return her love to her again. For the deal had cost her much pain at her mother’s hands and with her brothers’ harsh

Mereck did indeed pass that way again, some time later, and when Tallio saw him in the woods near her home, she went running to him, saying: “We must
cancel this bargain. Give me back my love!”

She told him all that had happened, how her mother pulled at her glossy black hair and how her brothers chastised her. He wondered at this, but was soon
smiling craftily and said to Tallio: “I know how to give it back, dear girl! And this is what we must do, and we must do it now, before it is too late!” And he
took her then to a soft bower near the swiftly flowing creek and he cast off his mocka and his raka once again and carefully removed her own raka and her
dalneri. Then he laid her down on the soft bed of dry leaves and warm cloak under the cool shade of the trees by the swift creek that flowed into the Three
Lakes; and he gave back Tallio’s love not once, neither twice, but thrice over. When they finished, Tallio was surely panting, wondering how by the same action
he might both take away her love from her and now return her love to her. But he said to her, thinking she might still want the rabbit: “I hereby give the rabbit
to you freely as a gift. It is no longer a matter of trade: what I have taken before, I give back to you now! This will be to you a sign of my good faith in our

Tallio sang as she ran home, her glossy black hair disshevelled and strewn with leaves and twigs, and she cheerily told her family how she had gotten back her
love and had been able to keep the lovely rabbit on top of everything. Tallio’s mother was livid once again pulled at her long dark hair and scolded her yet
again: “You just don’t understand, do you, you stupid child! These things you don’t do with a lad until you’ve come to your proper age!” And her brothers took
to calling her Little Hare for the way she threw herself at the first boy to come by with a gift in hand. All the worse, for soon everyone in the Leaping Hart clan
began calling Tallio a Little Hare. Tallio was heartbroken, still did not understanding these things that had befallen her, but she kept her feelings hidden from
everyone else.

By the end of Fall, Tallio could no longer hide her swelling belly, for she was clearly with child by the stranger that she had laid with; and when it was born in
Midwinter, a girl, none would take the burden of raising it from her, though she was but little more than a child herself. Several Winters passed, and in the last
of these Tallio came of age at last. No one took any notice of the event, for everyone thought of Tallio, the Little Hare, as a fool and stupid for giving herself
away before her time. Even her mother had taken to calling her Marana, Overly-eager Girl, because of how she took to lying down with a boy before she was
up to the task.

At one fair in the High Summer, Tallio with her little daughter Fana toddling at her side, was with her brothers when she saw Mereck near the wrestling ring.
She cried out: “There! That boy is the one who took my love!” And she ran to him. Her brothers went after her, and then they saw that the surprised lad she
was standing with was no other than Mereck the Hunter.

“Tallio! This is Mereck the Hunter! Everyone knows of his fame. Why would he want to lay with you? He could have any girl he wanted! — and prettier than
you, Little Hare.” Many folk there heard her brothers’ loud and harsh words and they wondered at the cause of the clamor. Some laughed at her for making a
fool of herself before the famous hunter. The girl was shamed and embarrassed by this public insult, so she ran away in tears to where her family was
camped, and she hid herself under the blankets in their tent. This exchange left the silent and wondering Mereck utterly confused and he could do no more
than look after the smirking brothers as they went their way into the crowds.

The next day Mereck thought long about the strange, beautiful girl that ran up to him, and the stranger sight of the two boys chastising her and sending her
away in tears of shame. As he ate, the sudden thought came to him of the poor young girl he’d seduced long ago, when he himself was hardly more than a
young boy; and wondered: “Could this girl also be that same girl? Could the pretty girl cooing over a gift rabbit have grown into the most beautiful girl I’ve
ever seen?” That night, Mereck wandered around the camps looking for Tallio’s clan and their camping place. At last he found them around their fire cooking
their evening meal, the brothers taunting her still. Upon hearing their taunts he resolved then and there to come to her defense, as he should have done long

Just before he approached the firelight, he said: “You needn’t insult nor make fun of the girl for telling the truth, you know.” The voice silenced them, and they
turned to the sound of it, though they didn’t recognize who he was at first. Through her tear besmirched face he saw that she had indeed grown nine times
more lovely than when he had last seen her as a girl-child.

“Stranger, what business is it of yours how we chastise this little marana girl?” they asked.

Marana she may be, but that was not so much her doing as mine!”

They were stunned by his words but could not believe. He stepped into the circle of light, and they could see his face. He said: “I am Mereck, of the Three
Lakes folk, whom many call The Hunter. It was I indeed who seduced that girl there, when she was more child than grown girl, before she came of age. I was a
foolish and rash lad then; that was wrong of me and I would make good the injury to your family. And to prove it was I and not another, I now very clearly
remember leaving my bow where she sleeps; though I’d forgotten it that day, all those years ago!” He described its fine wood and horn, its silver windings and
carvings, the red hair wrapping and the seven straight long and sharp arrows with curved heads and red yellow and brown hair crests, all in a bearskin case
with a braided strap.

Tallio’s amazed brothers brought out the bow and arrows from where they had it, for they found it and had been using it for all these years, though they knew
not whose it was before it came to their house. And with the bow and arrows came a little brown haired girl.

“Who are you?” she asked, standing toe to toe with the much taller hunter.

“That, little one, is your daddy,” said her mother’s brothers.

He knelt before the little girl and she examined him very closely. “He’s got brown hair too. Just like mine!” Tallio at last came out from her hiding place and the
child ran to her, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist.

Mereck asked Tallio to come away with him to be his girl; and to bring the child with her. She thought about what had happened, and before anyone could say
anything, she said she would do just that. So impressed with Mereck’s apology over the family’s lost honor and his proposal of marriage to one of their
daughters that they could do nothing but agree with Tallio’s wishes. And this brought them even greater honor than they could have hoped for; and they made
their vows at the wedding which happened in the late Summer in a way that pleased both families.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 25 May 2017 04:55

Over on what was once Imzy, someone asked us to describe our worlds in a single sentence; and someone else asked what sets our worlds apart from others...

The World is . . . the Creator's love story, unfolding within the breadth of All That Is, though I focus on but one planet, Gea, which has been described
variously as simply taking the earth and making it a bit more delightful and I'm sorry, but this makes absolutely no sense!... and he was not speaking about this
world, but about The World, which only occasionally is like this world, and then deceptively so!

That's what they say, anyway.

I might just say that The World is an ancient place of wonders forgotten and found again: half gambol through Faerie, half romp through True History, a third
place of wonder & respite and two fifths sojurn through unquiet and baroque dystopy.

There. Got away with two sentences!
One thing that sets The World apart, I think is it's definitely being a pre-apocalyptic place. The pockyclypse, that is --- the Eschaton --- is kind of what happens
towards the end of the story, and there's quite a lot of story to hear before we ever get to that kind of disaster!

This is not to say that the Eschaton is not interesting! In fact, many schools of philosophy focus on all the dreadfulness of the Last Days and the End of All That
Is. Most of em, of course, are wrong in some way or other, but they do try hard!

But any story told of goings on in The World is always told against the backdrops of both the Cosmogony, it being born in music and song as well as its
Eschaton. In the case of The World, its post-apocalyptic period, as best as the wisest philosophers can determine, will involve the Seven Squirrels of Regenreck
at last discovering the location of the World Tree, which they will ravage and destroy in their search for the Seven Acorns hidden among the branches. These
they'll bring down the dying trunk of the Tree and, in the way of squirrelkind everywhere, bury and promptly forget about.

The thing about the post-apocalyptic period of The World --- that is, Regenreck --- is it's very short. Too short for even a novella about a ravaged Dainekind's
search for a means of survival in a dying world. Possibly just long enough for one last draught of cyder and a quick last minute elegy on the futility of it all
before Esrafaal blows one last melancholic horn call before all those subatomic wossits at last dissipate into the great Potential whence they were formed
countless ages ago.

So, yeah, pre-apocalyptic.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 25 May 2017 05:02

Someone over on what was once Imzy asked about the existence of Father Christmas in our worlds . . .

In the Eastlands of The World, there is a holiday called Yeolas and there are gift giver figures. There's not a single Father Christmas, but rather there is the
Yeolfather and his numerous assistants, the Yeolamen.

Yeolfather wears a long greatcoat of red hide and tall phrygian cap of red and around his neck hangs a long black cape with silver stars. His sledge bears the
sign of the invincible Sun, and he heralds her return from the distant South. He drives his team of nine ferocious red-eyed, black-tongued hellcats around to
every house in the kingdom.

But be forewarned! You must hang up a new pair of mittens by the hearth if you want a present. No mittens? No worries! No present for you! Oh, and be sure
to leave a window open, just a crack before you go off to bed. Else the Yeolfather and the Yeolamen will have to break your window down in order to get into
your house.

Ah yes, the naughty and nice bit. Just when you thought you were safe with new mittens, be sure you've been nice all year long! Yeolfather has his list, and
he's checked it thrice. And if you've been naughty, the Yeolamen will drag you from your bed, hale you up into their sledge and drop you off out in the wild
somewhere, out where it's cold and the hillcats are howling and the hillcats certainly look forward to fresh meat for their Yeoltide supper!

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 01:50

Pocket Dimensions

There are several kinds of "pocket dimensions" in evidence in The World. One, the earliest kind, is a naturally occuring physical subdimension or invagination
within the crust of the planet itself. It most frequently takes the form of a gigantic geode-like structure. They could be several miles broad & long and perhaps
half a mile high. Within these geodes exists a biome. Some have a tiny sun-like vessel to provide light and warmth, others do not. Many have people and
animals while others are plant-life havens. A few have breaches in their carapces that allow outsiders to gain entry and there have been sporadic accounts of
communication and exchange between insiders and outsiders.

As far as pocket dimensions that are crafted, surely the Hidden Realms devised by the Teyor are the most wondrous examples. They have taken the notion of
settling to different lands upon one another such that they both occupy the same space at the same time. Spiff! Such hidden lands can only be accessed by
those who have been allowed to enter. A traveller can sometimes tell when he's crossed the border of such a place: the seasons may be different, the Sun may
appear slightly different (younger, or perhaps older) and the stars in the night sky may not be those the traveller is used to. Hidden realms are timeless in that
they do not synch with time outside their boundaries; but yet time passes inside, day upon day, season after season.

Daine have not, to my knowledge, learned this craft from the Teyor, their teachers from ancient times. But Men have devised a kind of magic that in some
respects mimics the hidden realms of the Teyor. In their case, we're talking about what's called a Bartleigh Box. So named because it was Master Bartleigh who
first described the confection of such a work of high dwimmery. It is basically a world contained within a large box, such as an armoire. The maker, who must
be the master of several disciplines of deep and complex magics, will select an appropriate container for the world and then, having crafted a kind of tubular
wand, will begin the incantations and ensorcelments by singing the magic through the wand, turning it this way and that in glass-blower fashion.

The result is a world. -!! - Open the door to the armoire and step inside . . . and through! You'll find yourself in a room within a snug house that isn't the same
as your house. Outside, the fields and woods of an other world entirely await your explorations!

The most famous Boxes of all are Azor Ramujjan’s Famous Boxe and Master Crandall Muqequrt’s Curiouse Cheste. Their worlds are full of detail, history and
very existence itself. It is, however, unknown exactly how big the pocket world is, as no one who has ever set out to map one ever come back alive to tell the
story. A couple have come back dead, but that's quite another tale!

Boxes of this sort can also be made quite small as well, and serve as highly functional travel trunks, trinket cases and the like. It is recorded that, at the Great
Fair of 1375, at Hoopelle, Master Jockelle Rasmusynne placed a number of large and cumbersome objects, including various stray cats and dogs, into a smallish
box. He passed it to a constable who was amazed as a priest of Nifti pulled out all the objects and beasts unharmed and in their original condition. Two small
boxes were awarded as prizes at the same fair, attesting to the great worth of the devices.

Several expeditions, mainly in the 1430's, led by royal parties of scholars and scribes were sent to map the world contained in Master Crandall’s Curious
Cheste. The party was away for what they described as an incredibly long time, perhaps several years, but in reality was gone no more than several days;
though some observers noted that the party seemed to have aged somewhat. They brought back books of cultural, linguistic and religious information about no
less than seventy tribes and nations of varied peoples, tracts on the topography and geography and several essays on a rather rich and complex “Cosmycke
Mechanneysme”, or the heavens. Philosophers are still debating the nature of these documents: are they works of fiction, since they describe no people or land
of Gea; or are they reality, since the men of those parties say they saw and experienced those things?

Of the three expeditions into Azor Ramujjan’s Famous Boxe, in 1447, only a part of one made it out of the Wilds alive, with scanty reports of vicious but exotic
beasts, ferocious tribes and wondrous though terrifying civilizations. After this incident, the Magical Community has curtailed its production of such lavishly
detailed, but potentially deadly Boxes.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 01:55

Turning Points in World History

In the long history of The World, there have been many turning points, some (literally) earth shattering, some rather small-scale indeed.

The first was, perhaps not surprisingly, a war. Gea is not so different that Earth on that account! --- war & strife make for relatively common turning points in
history! This war was truly cosmic in nature, it being fought between the godlike Powers, mighty beings like the gods of the Angels, with Gea as the great
game board and the Queen of Heaven and the King of Darkness being the antagonists. It happened so long ago that only the oldest creatures of earth have any
memory of those dark days, and younger folk have only dusty and garbled myth to inform them of an otherwise quite historical conflict.

The King of Darkness was discomfited, but not entirely destroyed. And of course his spirit of malcontent and wanton chaos remains to the present day. The
planet itself suffered terribly by way of geological disaster --- the great beings that hold up the landrealms, or continets, were terribly disturbed by the goings
on up above and many collapsed, causing the downfall of several lands and a terrible sloshing about of the oceans.

The turning point here is that ever afterward, the Creator intervened directly by calling the Powers back from All That Is, leaving whatever works they had
theretofore accomplished Done and whatever works they had not yet finished Undone until the End.
More recently, a rather quiet (or perhaps somewhat sneaky) turning point came a couple millennia ago when the Creator took a hand in changing the entire
course of History by making a personal visit. Some of you undoubtedly know how that kind of story turns out!

There was no war fought on Gea this time, but certain of those malcontented and chaotic remains of that first great cosmic war were dealt with more
On a more human(oid) scale, I'd say the greatest turning point of the last millennium, in the Eastlands certainly, was another war. This one was fought between
Daine and Men.

It was the aftermath of the 1672 War between the Emperor of Hoopelle and his wayward and rebellious realms across the sea in Alarica. They no longer wished
to be part of his empire, and so some time previously they overthrew the imperial garrisons and colonial governments, refounding their own governments.
Feeling their oats, as the saying goes, they decided to turn the tables on the Emperor and sent fleets containing not tribute but warriors and enginges of war.
They came ashore at one of the subject realms, Auntimoany, and found there a ready ally in their own war.

The Alarican Invasion and subsequent Occupation was entirely successful, from a certain perspective. And not so much that of the lands around Old Hoopelle
who now found themselves occupied and oppressed by new and not so improved imperial overlords. The Occupation itself went on for some twenty years, the
invaders constantly suppressing revolts and uprisings.

One uprising they could not suppress was that of the Daine of Old Hoopelle. Far from being allies of the Emperor, these folk were themselves the long-time
oppressed masses. The time was ripe for them to throw off the yoke imposed by other invading Men many thousands of years ago, and they followed their
young Queen into battle. Every Daine capable of bearing sword or mace or meteor hammer, it seems, took up arms and lit into anyone that didn't have wings
and seemed to stand in their way.

Other embattled Daine realms in the East heard about the Young Queen's Rebellion and they took heart and cleared their own lands of Alarian invaders, then
joined up in helping the Queen's armies clear her own domains. The war, born of long hatred and ill will, was redder and angier than any other war in history. It
was not at all about pushing out invaders, although that was certainly a side effect. At its heart, the war was really about working off a good ten millennia of
repression, oppression, slavery and worse than slavery, being treated as worse than no-class non-entities. The Daine of Old Hoopelle at that time had no great
love for Men, and it showed most glaringly in the butchery that followed.

Not only soldiers were hacked and bashed, but ordinary citizens. And not just ordinary citizens defending their own lives and property as we'd expect in an
environment now long used to war and strife and invaders, but ordinary folks fleeing the ire of a terrible and ruthless enemy.

For the first time in history, I think, Daine showed Men what they are capable of when roused. In the end, the whole of the ancient realm of Canash East of the
River --- that is now known as Westmarche --- was entirely cleared of Men. Those that couldn't run fast enough, be they old and infirm or little toddlers &
babies, were simply hacked down and trodden over.

The turning point of this Greatest Victory and Greatest Shame of the Daine of the Eastlands came about in the peacefull little city of Cluniê, just beyond the
East Downs. This town --- or rather, the town that was there some ten thousand years ago --- marked the easternmost boundary of ancient Daine realm of
Canash. And is was there the Young Queen, careening madly at the head of her army at last felt the urge to stop.

Caught between the collaborating armies of Auntimoany to the east and Daine coming down from Withwandiê in the north, the few surviving Men of Old
Hoopelle found themselves surrounded and seemingly doomed by hostile forces on all sides.

The leader of the fleeing Men sought to beg the Queen for the lives of his dispossessed compatriots, but she wouldn't hear anything of it and waved him off.
Poor Men! As they prepared themselves for their own deaths, she wandered around the fields outside the town for a while. No one, not even her own folk,
could make any sense of her very odd behaviour, untill at last, she homed in on a particular spot, just a little rise to the south of the road out of Cluniê heading
eastwards into Auntimoany.

At last she called the leader of the Men over and commanded his people to build a stone marker on the crown of the hillock. They did as they were bidden, for
what choice did they have? It was made in the likeness of a Daine warrior (and, so the story goes, the carver made it a reasonable likeness of young Queen
Vîqaya herself) and faced the East. She stood before the Men --- cowering Hoopolitans and wary Auntimoanians alike --- and, standing in the middle of the old
road, announced the end of her people's war of retribution. She would pursue Men no further than this boundary, and all Men who had fled her realms would be
considered expelled and would come to no further harm from any Daine in her lands. Also, any Men found still lurking in the renewed realm of Canash would
be extirpated and expelled without fear of death. Lastly, no Man would be suffered to invade, immigrate or settle any lands under her domain, on pain of
another war.

I'd estimate that upwards of twenty or thirty millions of Men died --- or more truly, were murdered and butchered --- in that war. Out of a population of
perhaps thirty-five to forty millions.

The Eastlands of the present time is now peaceful, though (at least in the minds of Men) is a somewhat uneasy peace. They live ever in fear of what has come
to be known as the Red Wrath, that absolutly bonkers kind of mental, physical and even trans-physical state that Daine can be worked up into. A war frenzy
that unmans the most ravening of berserks and causes hardened assassins and trained special forces of the armies of Men to soil their armour.

And this war is but the first in a long awaited, long predicted series of conflicts between interloping Men and Daine who have often been pushed out of their
own realms.

And so The World turns...

Last edited by elemtilas on 30 Apr 2018 03:28, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 01:59

The Three Seasons

The Daine of the Eastlands divide the year into three unequal seasons that do not neatly mesh with the astrological seasons. These seasons are Greentide
followed by Songtide and lastly Deepingtide. Each of the three seasons is marked by four characteristic principals.

The year begins with Greentide and is noted simply when folk notice the first hasnellimbe, a very early spring flower, poking its brave head above the snowy
ground. It is at this time that the armies of the Winterqueen are at their weakest and the opposing forces of the Sunqueen score their first victories of the year.
It should not be understood that warm weather is right around the corner, however! Hasnellimbe grow and blossom very early in the season and there is still
plenty of time for cold, snowy weather. Yet warmth returns with the northing Sun, as she makes her journey back from the southlands and soon enough the
other early spring flowers follow and soon enough the grass waxes green and the trees begin to put forth their first leaves.

Greentide passes soon into Songtide when the first of the singing insects begin the endless chorus of Summer. During this time, the Sunqueen reins in all her
warm and bountiful splendour. All lands abound in lush growth, flowers burst forth with color and fragrance, fruits, nuts and vegetables of all kinds are rapidly
growing and maturing. It is easy to become lulled into the belief that Songtide will have no end, for growth is everywhere in evidence and the singers are to be
heard in endless concert!

Songtide too passes away, as the days begin to shorten and the Sunqueen retreats back into the southlands. Although the world still seems full of growth, it is
a decadent growth and one that will soon enough turn to sleep and death. The singers will continue their chorus until the chill air of Fall turns cold enough to kill
them. The Daine of the East say "four days without a song", and that means the time has turned from Songtide to Deepingtide. Deepingtide is a beautiful time
of year in the East, at its beginning. The Winterqueen has not yet flexed her muscle, and the world is still largely green. Leaves are beginning to turn, and the
palatte of color now runs from dark brown up through brilliant yellows, oranges and deep reds. But soon enough her fickle temperament turns to wrath, and
she sends her bitter winds down from Ocean of Grinding Ice. The beautiful leaves of Autumn are blown down from the trees and the Killing Frost puts an end to
any growing fruits and any remaining singing insects. Nights now are cold and the quiet is deep. No sound comes to the ear unless its the quiet rustling of
some night creature in the deep leafmold or the distant howl of wolf or warg.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 02:05

Some Notes on Loquacious Animals: Would Animals that Can Talk Eat Other Animals that Can Talk?

In The World, talking animals have no compunction regarding the preparing and eating of other talking animals. The Wolf-cycle tales, focusing on King Isengrim
and his jolly band of knights and hunters, demonstrate well enough that, talking or otherwise, wolves are wolves and wolves fancy a bit of ham and chicken
from time to time.

Re human supremacy. Talking animals (at least, in certain highly magical or narrative countries), non-human sophonts, were-folk, manifest fairies, elfs and
personified natural phenomena all being well known among Men, knowledge of these peoples has never stopped Men from thinking themselves superior to
everything else. In The World, it's neither bad nor good (in a moral sense), it's just human nature. Wrongthinking, but, well, there it is.

At least none of those aforesaid non-human sophonts or talking animals' dearest wish is to be lorded over by the wonkiness of Men! They know which side of
the bread is buttered.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 02:25

On Fabricated Human Beings

Such things as artificially fabricated human beings do exist, or rather, may be caused to exist in The World.

Deadfellas, also known as Zombies, are resurrected people. They are used in various capacities depending on the quality and freshness of the corpses
harvested for reuse.

Animated lich fighters --- old dry skelletons animated with binding ensorcelments --- are relatively cheap and easy to field for the mad wizard king or up and
coming warlord on a tight budget. They are bound to the will of a commanding officer and are able to do no more than follow relatively simple commands.
They have the advantage of being impossible to kill, on account of them already being dead and also difficult to damage unless you've got a whomping big
shaleighleigh. Their disadvantage lies in their bond with their commander. Defeat or distract him and the lich fighters go all to pieces.

A step up in quality and price are your basic zombie warriors. Produced from select aged corpses, usually those mouldering a good year or more, these will
still have some tenacious cartilege and tendons present and perhaps some greying flesh and hair and often come dressed in their own vintage garments.

The fresher the corpse, the higher quality the zombie. The freshest are reserved for use as servants in some households or perhaps mannequins in fancy high
street shops and posh art installations. One of the best known collections of zombies as objects d'arte is housed in the Imperial Museum at Auntimoany: a
whole hall filled with the graceful and delicate, if slightly macabre, postures of the famed sculptor Bent Nuetter. Only the freshest of corpses, and of all ages
and races, were obtained for the great work, positioned in various poses one might find at an imperial ball, by the master himself and installed within the
Great Hall of the Dance of Death.
"deadfellas" hahaha! This is really interesting. It sounds like zombies are controlled by humans? How much sentience and independence do they have? Like,
obviously a servant or a warrior isn't that good if you have to tell them literally every single action they should take, but all these are subservient roles.

Well, they're controlled by their owners a/o revivifiers. Usually it's Men that get up to this kind of thaumic nonsense, and it's usually Men that are even
interested in such, er, tools? Objects? So it's usually Men that end up controlling them.

They don't have a lot of sentience and, with certain exceptions, no individual will at all. Obviously, animated skeletons don't have brains any more so can't have
any kind cognitive process. Their existence is one purely of animated dwimmery. Ensorcellment makes them and magic keeps them going. If the dwimmery
goes faulty, they fall to bits. If the will that binds them becomes distracted or disabled, they run amok and may eventually fall to bits as well.

Animated skeleton fighters really aren't all that good at fighting. Their real purpose is maul fodder and psychological warfare against the enemy. I don't care
how well trained a warrior is, he's going to crap his armour britches when a warlord's army of two thousand soldiers is accompanied and preceded by five
thousand or more skelletons carrying huge maces and their eye sockets all glowing blue. Even if they manage to strike a solid blow once in five tries, the
human or Daine warriors fighting against the skeletons still have to expend energy trying to dash them to pieces. And their sheer numbers will bog down even
the strongest of warriors.

Fresh corpses, as I said earlier, produce the highest quality deadfella. Usually, prospective zombies will be sought out and selected by a class of body snatchers
that follow the progress of wars and battles and they'll cart them off to a (usually human) wizard who can work the complex and difficult dwimmery required to
revive a corpse.

Now, as you might expect, when a person dies, be it in bed, on the gibbet or in battle, that part of them that is eternal --- the soul, the spirit, the eternal
consciousness --- separates from the body and goes on its way. But the question begged is, what about the body left behind?

Well, the body left behind is disposed of in some way. Funerary rites differ from people to people and thede to thede but one constant is shared among them
all. That is, it is most important to do sòmething with the body. Lest something nasty try to enter & inhabit it and possibly wreak havoc in the neighborhood.
Not so much devils, but there are wandering spirits and malicious elves of various kinds that can make ill use of an unattended corpse. And of course, in a
great city like Auntimoany, you also have to worry about low class dentists, anatomists and the Imperial Medical College itself. Recently departed loved ones
are álways in demand by the medical students for use in learning all about anatomy and surgery. It's kind of a rite of passage for them to successfully extract
and hie away with their first corpse and get everyone back to the dorms in one piece.

But the unlife of a deadfella is rather different. Although a person's spirit has departed, the brain of the recently dead is still in the head and the chemical
states are still intact for some time. Thus, a zombie made from a very fresh corpse will wake up and may start wondering about certain things. Like "why am I
so stiff" or "why haven't I been breathing the last half hour?"

This is because they still have intact memories and intact neural pathways. Well, mostly intact. Certainly, the longer they've been left on the shelf before
preparation, the more degraded will be their cognition. This is why good & conscientious zombiemongers will have taken pains to deaden the unalive deadfella's
active cognitive capacities. They'll still be able to understand and act upon commands, but will lack all will and awareness of self and environment.

This is actually a good thing, because those deadfellas who have nòt been so treated will eventually be driven mad. Their head will still be swimming with their
own thoughts and perceptions, but they will also lack conscience and inhibition that come from the spiritual domain. And also, there will be the binding
ensorcellments that ever seek to erode their wills and seek to command them. Such imperfected deadfellas usually run amok and have to be dealt with.

Now, reanimated lich warriors of this class, especially when collected from the field of battle, retain all their trained reflexes, instincts, memories and also
unbridled strength. These make for brutal enemies indeed! Similarly difficult to kill, they literally must be hacked to tiny bits lest they continue their single-
minded attack. Take a lich's weapon away, and it'll just use its fists and fingers and teeth. Hack off its hands and it'll bludgeon you with elbows, arm stumps
and legs. Hack off its arms, and it'll just kick and trip you. Hack off its legs, and it'll still wriggle about the field trying to bite or trip its enemies. Hack off and
dash in its head, cut its elbows and knees, wrists and ankles --- then you will have incapacitated the monster!

Last, but not least, are those living beings who undergo the revivification processes while they are still alive! Men rarely survive this procedure, and those that
do generally collapse and cease to function shortly afterwards. But Daine are a different matter: they almost always survive the process. But in their case, the
case of a living unalive person, they will naturally retain their full cognitive capacities. So, not only their memories but also their will and their conscience.
They lack only their souls (perhaps?) --- it's not really certain what the status is there. Daine deadfellas are thus able to much more easily resist and revolt
against their would-be masters. The existence of such a one in a batch of ordinary zombies has to be handled right away. This usually means carting the poor
sod off some distance and dumping him. Can't have such an unbridled will in the vicinity of other zombies, as he would almost certainly contaminate the
binding dwimmery that holds the others to their master's will.

Wow, this is amazing and so interesting and well thought out. For the super recently reanimated, I assume they would also be recognizable since they
haven't really decomposed or changed much. How often does it happen that a loved one of the undead recognizes them?

Oh, sure! Definitely recognisable. Some try to go home again, but as you can imagine, relationships with dead --- that is to say, unalive --- people
don't really work out all that well. They say love transcends even the grave, but for the (un)lucky few whose bodies have survived the trip, Love Zombie Style
is really not a happening thing.

There are some stories floating around about lovers who, upon finding that their beloved has been zombified, actually seek out a mad wizard to do the job of
conversion on them. Just so they can enjoy the rest of their unlives in peace with their beloved. While it's true these living unalive deadfellas carry forth a full
range of emotional capacity, other bits are lacking and the physical expressions and responses and activities surrounding love & romantic relationships
generally do exist among zombie couples.

One thing, there are no longer any hormones sloshing about. No hormones means no sex drive. Also, no blood and no heartbeat. For most guys, that means no
mountain of Viagra pills will ever set things in motion! (Some kinds of Daine have a baculum, so that's not so much of an issue for them).

Many of these deadfellas end up in the big cities of the Eastlands. They don't need to eat or drink, never feel cold or hot, so they don't need a place to live and
can come to no great harm from environmental factors. They can often satisfactory and fulfilling employment as night watchmen or bouncers at taverns and

It should be noted that in Auntimoany there is a Society for the Rights of the Undead that seeks to ensure fair treatment and working rights for people
regardless of their life status. Historically, this has been an interesting situation for Daine, who have never been accorded rights of any kind that Men in their
own realms would respect. One Daine deadfella quipped to one Society supporter, upon hearing of the good works they're doing: "Well, sister, I have more
rights now that I'm dead than I ever did before when I was alive!" Meaning, of course, that even in Auntimoany the Daine have not generally been accorded the
same rights as Men.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 28 May 2017 02:40


Cynanthropes are a race of Men who have been specially bred as kind of tame werewolf. In fact, these werehounds were bred from male hunting hounds
and female werewolves in the lands of the Warlords. Their directability and keen senses of hearing and smell made them ideal hunting companions, often as
handlers of the pack. Their affinity with both dogs and wolves ideally suited them to the task. Werehounds, unlike werewolves, are relatively docile folk and
are also able to control their shapeshifting at will, whereas werewolves suffer a monthly round of nearly impossible to control shifting. Even so, cynanthropes
are only rarely able to shift into full dog shape. They typically take on some number of characteristics while retaining a basically human shape. Some exhibit
slightly elongated jaws & snout; elongated ears; elongated canine teeth; a tail; the ability to bark properly; elongated ears. Those few who can become full
dogs, often take the opportunity to conceal themselves among the dog population of the city they inhabit.

Daine are able to detect the presence of either cynanthropes or lycanthropes. They seem to have a considerable affinity for animals in general, but dogs and
wolves in particular and it is well known that Daine were the first to be chosen by wolves as domestic friends and partners.

It is not known how many werehounds were initially bred, nor how many came about due to the natural course of events in the lives of these werehounds, but
there seems to have been a rather large population of these folk in Warlord ruled lands.

Over the years, many werehound men and women escaped the slavery of the Warlords' dog pens and most refugees of earlier ages ended up drifting towards
either Auntimoany, old Hoopelle or else the wild country of the Arnal Mountains. In these places, they kept mostly to themselves, only very rarely divulging
their true natures to any but the most trusted confidants. Given that Daine are able to detect a cynanthrope, many newly arrived werehound refugees naturally
fear their Daine neighbors considerably. Yet they needn't worry, for the Daine are trustworthy and most careful with the secrets they know.

Most werehounds that came to the great empires took up honorable work as guards, soldiers, watchmen and the like. That is to say, work with a clearly
defined social structures and hierarchy and where few questions are asked of the applicants. Even so, a few have taken to more intellectual pursuits:
philosophy, medicine and literature being clear favorites.

Werehound Healers

The first known werehound healer lived for a while at Alixaundria in Iconia, taking the name Fidonicus, before moving on to Auntimoany. His treatise, The
Canine Senses as Healing Modality
, was never published among physicians in general, though it has widely circulated among his fellow werehounds, being
lovingly passed from generation to generation in secret. An extract from the work reads:

While it is a well known fact to every man that our canine cousins possess superior senses of smell and hearing, with respect to those of Men or Daine, it is
also true that they are ill equipped to communicate with their human Masters what they have learned thereby apart from the suggestive wagging of the tail or
else the issuance of suggestive whining. We, my cynanthropic brothers and sisters, also possess superior senses of smell and hearing with respect to Men and
Daine, but what is more, it is well known to us, even if we keep this gift a secret from other Men, we are fully able to rationally consider and communicate
what our noses and ears are telling us... (I.i.)

Werehounds trained in the healing arts become adept at detecting various diseases suffered by Men and animals alike, and also many kinds of poisons or toxic
sicknesses. They can also hear and appreciate the many sounds and rhythms of the body: the blood flowing through the veins, the greater and lesser sounds of
the heart, the sounds of lungs and bowels. They can thus detect blood flow, blockages, stenoses, and vessel constriction all without laying a single hand on the

A typical healing session with a werehound healer plays out with some similarities to a session with a faith healer or witch doctor (or even an ordinary
physician in many parts of the civilized world, when we get down to brass tack), to outward appearances anyway. Although the werehound healer will ask
questions in order to gauge the patient's history and scope of his complaint, as often as not the werehound will simply stand in the presence of the patient,
usually slightly behind and to one side or the other. He will pass his hands very close to the patient's head, face, torso and limbs, but will not at first touch the
patient. Most folks don't pay this much mind, as they consider such shennanigans to be part of the schtick. But what differentiates the werehound from other
healers is that he is using the examination time to evaluate the odors and sounds of the patient and reasoning through what they signify.

Cynanthropic healers tend to "get the diagnosis right" far more often than other doctors, potion pushers and snake oil vendors. It should be noted that their
reiki-esque assessment doesn't mean the patient will necessarily get better quicker, or even at all. Just because the healer can sniff out cancer or high blood
sugar doesn't mean the patient will necessarily be cured. All it means is the patient is much more likely to get the right diagnosis -- and still be told to swill
this or that potion or eat more kale and cabbage.

(Note to medical staff: Just be careful when opening a jar of potted meat for Dr. Rover's hearing is as good as his sense of smell and he's liable to come
tearing into the staff lounge at the first hint of the jar opener being engaged!)


Some questions I have out of curiosity and to maybe help you continue expanding your world if you haven't already considered these things:

It seems like a werewolf bred with a dog would bring out more canine aspects, not fewer, but you said that they're rarely able to shift into full dog shape. Why
is that?

Are werehounds typically servants or slaves? You mentioned the slavery of the dog pens, but were they literally kept in dog pens, even though they looked and
acted like humans who just had a few dog-like characteristics? If they were more servile, why not use them also as servants in general, in the household or
whatever, as well as for hunting, rather than keeping them in dog pens?

Are werehounds able to breed with regular humans and dogs/wolves? What is the result of both of those pairings?

I love the idea of werehound healers—it totally makes sense with so many things I've heard about dogs being able to detect cancer or Alzheimer's or whatever
else. Are there werehounds who basically just do diagnostics? They don't have the training to heal everyone, but they learn how to diagnose things and then
people go elsewhere to get healed? Or maybe a werehound and a regular doctor would work together as a pair, diagnosing and healing?

What kind of lore/religion/culture do werehounds have as a result of their unique heritage?

How do werehounds and werewolves interact with/regard each other?

First, some background: In De Natura Lycanthropôn Ruodowulf tells us that the true nature of any were-beast is, basically, that of ordinary Men. Their origins,
evolution, physical, moral & spiritual constituents are like those of any other kindred of Men who inhabit The World. The difference to note is that some Men
have natural capacity for the dwimmery called "skin changing", which is a natural magic that allows a person to take the whole shape & form of a beast.
Abilities run in families, and I'm pretty sure that all these families are, as we look back over the myriades of years of human existence, related to each other
and descended from some common ancestor(s). So, a Werewolf is an ordinary Man who can become an ordinary wolf. A Werebear is an ordinary Man who can
become an ordinary bear. And so forth for many other kinds of beast.

An interesting factoid: young skin changers don't just wake up one morning only to find themselves in a canine or ursine condition! Children start out small,
often immitating and then acquiring traits of small animals like wrens or squirrels. As they pass through childhood and into adolescence, they experience a
period of lability: a youngster may spend months or more than a year seemingly settled as a bear, only to rapidly switch between wolf and wildcat. By their
mid-teens, they start to settle down and becomes increasingly difficult to change into anything other than one kind of beast. By the time they come of age,
such youngsters will take new names, both human and beast (as their culture allows) and it will by then be practically impossible to change into anything other
than their inner-beast.

Skin changers who can become birds are uncommon, and are almost always girls.

Skin changers who can master more than one kind of beast are exceedingly rare and are always girls. (I wrote a story about such a girl here.)

On the Nature of Canids
Another thing to note is that not all animals are, well, just animals. Some animals are people too. Obviously Men and Daine and others of the speaking races
belong to what we might call *here* the kingdom animalia, and are thus in some way related to other kindreds of animal & beast, all living things of the
created order being so related. The canids are one such kindred that are rather more people-like than, say, the felids or bovids. Whether warg or wolf or
coyote or fox or dhole or hyena or any of their (half-)domesticated relatives, these are all animals that exist somewhere between the "dumb animals" and the
"speaking peoples". Of course, they're intelligent, inquisitive and so forth, but also aware of self and others and their place in the world to some extent.

So, what really happens when a werewolf is bred with some kind of canine beast is a melding of two kinds of people, one human and one non-human. This is
why were-hounds actually end up more human than canine. The curious alchemy of genetics and background dwimmery present in the atmosphere dance a
curious waltz that results, in this case, in something rather unexpected.

As for why a were-hound can only rarely fully change into a dog probably has to do with what chromosomes code for shifting and where they're located. It may
be that the specific codons are lacking; it may be that they're deactivated or perhaps overridden by some other genetic script.

Werehounds as Slaves
Yes, werehounds were typically kept in a servile role of some sort. Anyone who's ever kept dogs knows a little about pack structure & hierarchy. Werehounds
are kind of slammed by a double whammy here: not only are they bred & born into the condition of slavery, and are thus inculcated into its culture, but they've
also got that "doggy" nature that expresses itself as a strong desire to abase oneself before the Alpha and serve the needs of the Alpha's "pack".

Werehounds employed as huntmasters almost always live with or near their assigned pack(s) of hounds. But this is also true of huntmasters who are ordinary
Men as well. The hounds need exercise and training and routine care. Huntmasters attached to a large household may be responsible for fort or eighty hunting
hounds and to a lesser extent perhaps a couple hundred fighting warhounds. They are also responsible for the sad lives of the pithounds, those poor beasts
whose sole function is to either fight other pithounds or else to rip to shreds some poor sod being punished for some infraction against the Warlord.

I can not think of any reason why a werehound couldn't be employed in other areas of servitude. As I mentioned, they do make excellent guardsmen. I suspect
that they don't get many "inside" assignments for the simple fact that what great lord would want a table servant who will spill the soup tureen in hand because
he's spied some tasty morsel dropped onto the floor, and like all the other dogs in the hall, feels compelled to scrabble around on all fours to get at it? Or who,
while helping to hold a ladder for the decorater in the great hall, will, with a yelp! of surprise, dash instantly into the kitchens when once the food jar opener
has been engaged, hoping for a bit of a treat? Werehounds also have a habit of panting. And while the Warlords themselves are pretty low-class low-brows,
they do have some standards when it comes to in house servants!

Matters of the Heart and Other Amatory Organs
Werehounds, like their werewolf ancestors, are Men and are thus able to mate with and produce human children in the ordinary fashion. Things do get a little
complicated when it comes to mating with actual canids, however. A male werewolf pairing with a female wolf or dog will probably not yield viable offspring. If
any offspring are conceived, they will almost certainly be canid in nature. So, basically a wolf that kind takes after daddy. These can not change into Men and
may or may not behave somewhat like Men. Such are kind of doomed to existence on the edge of both worlds, neither accepted by their canine kin nor
recognised by their human kin. These hybrids are sterile.

A male wolf or dog mating with a female werewolf in her human shape results in a werehound. If the female werewolf is in her wolf shape, then the result will
be a werewolf. The results of a werewolf pairing with a werehound tend to favor the werehound, though such one may be better able to change into hounds

Werehounds and werewolves do actually get along fairly well together, whenever they chance to meet. They are both wrought by the same dwimmery and
share many of the same concerns with respect to non-skinchanger folk.

Werehound Healers
There is no reason why a werehound physician couldn't join up with a non-werehound physician. I think it's just in their secretive nature and fear of being
abused into slavery again that keeps them somewhat aloof from other humans.

The medical arts, among Men, are a completely different topic, but I would say that your likelihood of being healed of any malady is about the same either
way. I.e., not so good. Werehounds may be superior diagnosticians, but when medicine itself largely consists of a doctor rummaging in his cabinets for some
random bottle of icky green goo and telling the patient "you will feel better after taking this", most patients do indeed recover. And almost miraculously! If only
because they no longer have to spoon down the icky green goo. Especially the one that burbles from time to time and seems to have wee things swimming in
its murky depths.

Werehound Culture
For the most part, werehounds and werewolves alike participate in the broader culture of other Men around them. They do venerate their own peculiar saints
and divinities, though. The Western god Anubis is known among them, as is the Kristian Mar Roccus, whose affliction (probably some kind of terminal infection)
was healed by a werehound as he went about his charitable work. They also venerate certain hunting deities, as they have canine connections as well.

It is not uncommon for werehounds to take names they consider to have positive atributes (such as Fidonicus or Alkes or Dromas).

They never wear necklaces because they remind one too much of the collars placed on some dogs.


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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by alynnidalar » 28 May 2017 21:45

elemtilas wrote:

Several expeditions, mainly in the 1430's, led by royal parties of scholars and scribes were sent to map the world contained in Master Crandall’s Curious
Cheste. The party was away for what they described as an incredibly long time, perhaps several years, but in reality was gone no more than several days;
though some observers noted that the party seemed to have aged somewhat. They brought back books of cultural, linguistic and religious information about no
less than seventy tribes and nations of varied peoples, tracts on the topography and geography and several essays on a rather rich and complex “Cosmycke
Mechanneysme”, or the heavens. Philosophers are still debating the nature of these documents: are they works of fiction, since they describe no people or land
of Gea; or are they reality, since the men of those parties say they saw and experienced those things?

Of the three expeditions into Azor Ramujjan’s Famous Boxe, in 1447, only a part of one made it out of the Wilds alive, with scanty reports of vicious but exotic
beasts, ferocious tribes and wondrous though terrifying civilizations. After this incident, the Magical Community has curtailed its production of such lavishly
detailed, but potentially deadly Boxes.
OK, but now I just want to know more about these worlds. [xD]

Was all of that literally created through dwimmery (the people, the history, etc.), or are they just linking up to some alternate universe unbeknownst to the creator? Has anybody from one of those worlds ever ended up wandering out of the armoire, etc. into ours?

And of course I must ask if any of these expeditions have ever stumbled across a land of unending winter ruled by an evil queen with a penchant for statuary, perhaps with a lamppost...?

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by shanoxilt » 29 May 2017 04:07

elemtilas wrote:Over on what was once Imzy
Speaking of Imzy, please return to our glossopoeia Discord server. You are sorely missed.
Click here to join the Common Honey server. Or click here for a general glossopoeia server.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 29 May 2017 21:01

alynnidalar wrote:
elemtilas wrote:Of the three expeditions into Azor Ramujjan’s Famous Boxe, in 1447, only a part of one made it out of the Wilds alive, with scanty reports of vicious but exotic
beasts, ferocious tribes and wondrous though terrifying civilizations. After this incident, the Magical Community has curtailed its production of such lavishly
detailed, but potentially deadly Boxes.[/size]
OK, but now I just want to know more about these worlds. [xD]
Huy! Those parties of explorers suffered cruel fates to satisfy your idle curiosity! [;)]
Was all of that literally created through dwimmery (the people, the history, etc.), or are they just linking up to some alternate universe unbeknownst to the creator? Has anybody from one of those worlds ever ended up wandering out of the armoire, etc. into ours?
These are actually good questions, ones that I really don't know the answers to!

On the surface of things, they were generally advertised as "orthank worlds of deep dwimcraft", but when you dig deeper, as it were, no one who understands anything about the nature of All That Is will be led down that particular garden path! Dwimmery is a potent force, but not that strong. And no shaper of dwimmery has the might to create outright. This is because the creation of a literal world is the sovereign domain of, well, the Creator. All things made within creation are made from the substance thereof. A phantom world could be crafted (kind of like a Star Trek holodeck scenario), but there is no substance, no spirit, no life in such a place.

There are a couple of possibilities, though. It is well known that, even within the shroud of earth and stone that is the crust of Gea, there are many 'subdomains' --- tiny cosms that exist nestled here and there like great geodes just going about their own business of existence. It could be that the dwimmery used in fashioning these great armoires somehow tapped into an embryonic cosm and opened it up into fullness.

Another possibility is that these wizards, with typically Mannish disregard for consequences, somehow found a way to tap into the system of Gates that allow for pretty near instantaneous travel between locations. There is always the possibility that at least one of the places explorers ended up is none other than Qoantasia itself, the great southern counterweight continent. Sailors who've survived the burning seas and terrible cyclones of those regions tell stories of fantastic cities where people glide about on enchanted tapestries and mythical beasts like giant leaping rats and nasty tempered behemoths inhabiting the swampy lowlands.

Yet another possibility is that they've managed to open up a rift in the tapestry of reality itself and have managed to patch themselves into another world. Perhaps a world within All That Is, or perhaps they've crossed the membranes that separate one cosm from another and have landed themselves far away in some different corner of the polycosm.

In one sense, it's kind of sad all research & work along these lines was deemed far to perilous. But on the other hand, that is a thaumology that it probably best taken out of the hands of Men. Far too risky. As with many other kinds of magic & thaumology, better to be studied or simply guarded by those far wiser.
And of course I must ask if any of these expeditions have ever stumbled across a land of unending winter ruled by an evil queen with a penchant for statuary, perhaps with a lamppost...?
Oh, no doubt!

Even in Gea, the Winter Queen is well enough known:


Her twin, the Summer Queen, is ever her rival as they seek to dominate, the frigid calm of stasis over the vibrant activity of motion.

Penchant for statuary, eh? Winter queens, no matter where they reign, always seem to have a thing for them. In Gea, the Winter Queen likes to snatch strong warriors and pose their frozen bodies in her palace. Talk about warriors with icy stares!


Yep. Beware which turning in the road you take, when wandering up in the North Country, and you come across an oddly out of place lamp post in the middle of the wilderness!
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by elemtilas » 06 Jun 2017 00:39

Government Structure in Auntimoanye

The Government of modern Auntimoany is what is called a constitutional monarchy. In other words, the various powers and responsibilities of the various ministries of government are spelled out in a constitution of sorts. The constitution of Auntimoany is not a single document, but it in stead a compilation of the various charters, grants, legislation and commentaries on traditional usage as well as commentaries on the Three Covenants that are the hallmarks of a legitimate government that help define who may do what and how.

The Monarchy
The monarchy is not an absolute institution, as was that of Old Hoopelle. The Emperor is styled the Greatking or "Groatkingaz". Ordinarily, the role of the Emperor is to be fully briefed on all matters of state by the chief ministers of the Government, to advise those same ministers as to wise courses of action and to warn them against taking courses of action that seem less than propitious. In addition, the Emperor forms a government, via his chief ministers and by opening the Session of the Ricksthinge and giving his speech which outlines the general course of his Government; and he will thereafter (generally accede to or (occasionally) veto their legislation. Only during a time of war do his powers truly grow. As herzog, or "heyrtugaz", his authority over the armies and militias is absolute.

The Commission of Heaven versus the Divine Right to Rule:
The Commission of Heaven is the foundational principle of the government of modern Auntimoany, and indeed is also the founding principle of any legitimate government. It is perhaps the clearest statement on the function of a just state and is set in opposition to those governments who claim the Divine Right to Rule. The idea of the Priest-King is an idea that just won't quite die a quiet death. All three of these grand ideals have had or currently have their place in how the government functions.

The Divine Right to Rule is the claim that the power of Heaven itself has granted to the current ruler -- usually the victor of an overthrow -- the absolute and incontrovertible right to rule the country. This right is enforced solely by the force of arms and use of violence that the new despot can bring to bear. It is considered a very feeble and absolutely illegitimate form of government by every philosopher of the East. While it has had its place in Auntimoany's past history, it is no longer understood that monarchs ought to be allowed to rule by such an ill-defined and ill-advised divine intervention in the machination of the World.

In the Eastlands, the Commission of Heaven is a constitution on the "conditional legitimacy" of the government of a state. So long as the ruler maintains proper balance of the Three Covenants, his reign is legitimate; when he breaks one or more of the Covenants, his reign ceases to be legitimate and the people, whether commons or nobles or even religious, have the right and duty to rise up in revolt. As an operational force in the states of the World, and a concept most governments recognise in some form or other, it always forms the underlying Foundation of legitimate government. It doesn't really matter whether a particular country is ruled by an emperor or governed by a senate or guided by a commission of scholars, so long as the Three Covenants are in harmonious operation, that government is considered legitimate. When one or more of the Covenants are broken, the government ceases to be legitimate and the ruler risks losing the Commission of Heaven and subjects the country to the (usually quite dire) consequences of such a situation. The blessings heaped upon the ruler and the earthly worship of his people come about because the ruler acts with justice and love at all times. And these blessings can be taken away if the underlying nature of the Commission is not followed; and this taking away of the Commission is almost always done in an especially entertaining fashion. Well, not so entertaining, perhaps, for the king who finds his Commission being yanked out from under him, but almost certainly entertaining from a particular perspective. For example, an historian sitting in a nice easy chair in a comfortable library a thousand miles and a hundred years distant from those rather distasteful events of history!

The Magistracy
Although even in modern times the Emperor wields considerable and particular powers, he does little to actually govern his realms, for his roles are primarily those of dignity and gravity. Those of efficiency and efficacy are taken on by certain high ministers of the crown, collectively known as the Magistracy. The Magisters hold various offices, as outlined below:

First Magister
Lord of the Treasury
Magister of the Home Services
Magister of the Overseas Services
Chancellor of the Exchequer
Lord Admiral of the Navies and Marines
Lord Field Marshal of the Armies and Militias
Magister of the Civil Service
Chancellor of the Emperor's Justice
Lord Speaker for the House of Nobles
Lord Speaker for the House of Divines
Lord Speaker for the House of the Freemens Moot
Lord Speaker for the House of Folksdage
Lord Gravio of Angera
Lord Gravio of Rumnias
Chancellor of the Posts and Highways
Lord Keeper of the Seals and Signs
Lord Great Chamberlain
Lord High Constable
Magister for Policies and Writs
Magister for Civil Ministries
Lord Bishop of Pylycundas
Lord High Priest of Our Lady of the Seas
Lord High Justice for Angera
Magisters without Portfolio

The Cupboard - Of these, the first seven Magisters form a subset of the Magistracy known as the Cupboard. A curious term indeed, it stems from the early 19th century when the then Magister for Civil Service remarked that of all the various magisters, chancellors and lords of this or that, the seven First Ministers to the Emperor form a sort of "government in a cupboard", a miniature council fully capable of performing all the most essential acts of Government. The Cupboard is therefore a sort of "government within the government".

The Parliament
Legislation is introduced and passed by the Parliament, or Ricksthinge, in Avantimannish "Reihesthingô", and upon passage is sent up to the Emperor for consent or rejection; however, the Thinge may override the Emperor's veto with sufficient support. Other levels of nobility (hereditary and elective) exist as well. One of the most common are the elected gravs or earls (often appearing in ancient texts as "gravio"). Gravs often hold governorships over small territories called grafdoms, or counties. There are also Markgravs, or "markôgravios", who are the lords of the marches, particularly south away.

The Ricksthinge is the general term used for the various advisory and legislative bodies that draft and polish laws for the Emperor's approval. As a body, there are distinct Houses each with its own customary number of members and traditional functions, and it is not necessarily the case that each of these bodies will have a hand in crafting every piece of legislation. These houses are somewhat analagous to the various senates and parliaments of other deliberative bodies and are seven in number, four of which may propose legislation.

The House of Nobles is half the core of the Ricksthinge. It is composed of all the hereditary heads of the noble and trading houses.

The House of Divines is composed of all the Lords Spiritual of the realm: the various bishops of the Churches and Temples represented in the country.

The Freemens Moot is composed of one legislator from each of 144 districts. The Freemen are selected by bodies of locally chosen electors and serve for terms of seven years.

The Folksdage is composed of legislators popularly elected from the same districts the Nobles come from. Typically, each district sends three legislators for every thousand (or some other number determined by law) citizens and they serve for terms of nine years each.

In addition to these four legislative bodies which may propose Bills, there are two further Houses that play key roles in the Government. The Hall of Worthies is a group of 36 abbots, renown scholars and philosophers appointed jointly by the Emperor and the hierarchies of the churches. While the Hall of Worthies may propose legislative Bills, their primary function is to consider all the Bills proposed by the other four Houses and render their Opinion regarding the viability of the underlying legislation and points for rectification and ratification by all the Houses. The Deanery of Arbitrators is composed of 18 heads of the premier universities, guilds, philosophical and magical societies and learned folks whose sole purpose is not the proposing of Bills or voting on same, but rather the settling of disputes among the other legislative Houses. Like the Hall of Worthies, they may render general Opinions, but unlike the Hall, the College is not composed of Government functionaries. It is generally considered that their Opinions are fairer and exhibit less of a political slant. Also, their Opinions are not binding on the other Houses. Their power lies solely in their function as Arbitrators: they break ties and resolve otherwise irresolvable conflicts within and between the Houses.

The seventh body of legislators, the Guild of Excisioners, plays a radically different role in the Government of the Empire and indeed is seen by some as the Government's greatest adversary or the People's greatest friend. For the business of this body is neither to craft legislation nor pass bills nor collect taxes nor wage wars nor preside over fancy dinners. The Guild meets once every twelve years in two sessions of four months each with a month's vacation between sessions. Their sole function is, upon their election in the same manner as the Freemens Moot, first to consider all the Bills passed by the Ricksthinge over the previous twelve years and to determine which ought to be stricken from the books. During their first session, they discuss all the Bills enacted over the previous twelve years. They will often hear testimony from representatives of the People and will also rely upon accounts from the broadsheets of the time when formulating their Opinion.

During their second session, they determine which of the Bills they scrutinized ought to be excised from the code of law. All such Bills as they choose to excise are immediately stricken from the books, any taxes they impose are lifted any offices created are nullified. There is no imperial veto, no appeal and no redress apart from the Ricksthinge being able to introduce a new legislation to replace the old during their next term. However, this must be approached most carefully, as it is rare that the Emperor will countermand the will of the Guild nor that the Hall of Worthies will grant support to a renewed Bill, once it has been sliced out by the Excisioners.

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

Post by spanick » 06 Jun 2017 18:05

elemtilas wrote:Government Structure in Auntimoanye
I need to go back and read this whole thread but since you linked to this post, I just thought I'd say I think this looks great. It's really fascinating. Although however did such a complicated system come to be?

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