The grass plains of Mukarrem have felt the presence of friend and foe alike, struggling beneath the weighty impact of ambitions both national and personal. Wounds and scars have laid claim to the land itself, let alone the bodies and minds of those that inhabit it willingly. No matter what part is torn away from it, no matter what parasites worm their way into its very being, Mukarrem exists at the whim of people.
And it is these people that determine whether it shall live well, or die horrifically. The actions of all within its borders build its future, each carefully placed metaphorical brick as likely to be ripped from its foundation as to strengthen it. It is those that live and now dwell within its towns. It is those that seek to remedy and learn of The Lost Plane. It is those who find haven in their life of piracy.
There is much happening within Mukarrem, and a future that holds more to come.
A Knock Upon My Door
The busy sound of the street outside was not too dissimilar from a few weeks ago, Carreriro thought to themselves. The shout of traders, just smaller in scale, the buzz of everyday conversation, just quieter. The shouting of shipwrights, as overbearing as they are direct, the call of gulls, ever present and ever hungry. All familiar sounds, mostly unchanged by circumstance.
Carreriro knew that such musings were dangerously close to acceptance, but who could not think such things? In the comfort of their own home, as recently rebuilt as it was, with the door closed to the reality of the outside world it was easy to pretend. Far too easy, perhaps.
Carre, are you home? A humble voice from beyond the door.
Of course, Antia, are you well? Genuine concern, Carreriro knew all too well what Antia had done.
Well enough, but it is not difficult to persevere. We have done so before. I am truly sorry to ask this of you, but I must collect their tax. Pain and regret in the last words, but a resolution to protect in the face of danger. All too clear.
Ah. I suppose it is time, isn’t it. One moment while I scrounge for something of value. Carreriro sighed as they stood, knowing that they were to part with yet more before this pain would pass in full.
Here we are, this should be enough for today at least. Let me open the door. A deep breath as a hand lays on the only thing stopping the world from intruding further into their life, Carreriro takes but a minute to gather the strength to unlock and open the door.
Beyond stands Antia, head down and hands clasped guiltily at their waist. At least today they stood alone, rather than accompanied by Arpivanoan marines. Little else is said as valuables change hands, but a single fleeting moment of eyes met tells Carreriro all they need to know about Antia’s feelings.
This was not the community that had been built here in Nazafeza. This was not the way in which friends wished to see each other. This was not a place to call home, but a prison paraded as freedom.
Carreriro looked down the street as Antia shuffled to the next house, gritting their teeth as Principality fighters patrol the roads in droves. This was not living. This was a city under arrest, yet no amount of balled fists and muttered antagonisms will free it. That would be the duty of armies and heroes.
And by The Spheres, Carreriro thought to themselves, I hope they come soon.
-=-=-=-
The occupation of Nazafeza would see its citizens put through the greatest of community strain. The invading Principality force would take root in the town, forming distinct districts for their people of influence and commanders to live and work from. It would not take long for orders to spread, and the work of Aprivano to begin in the town itself.
Shipwrights would be paid well to ply their trade on Carine’s fleet and any other Principality ships at harbour. Merchants would be given fair rates on goods, and allowed to purchase items brought from Covarrias and even as far as Zaitiri Zan. Citizens were encouraged to go about their daily life, with no curfew nor even really any restrictions.
Those who cried that it was too good to be true, despite the blood spilled to get to this point, would soon be silenced by oh how right they were.
Those who fled Nazafeza, as few as they would be, would find themselves chased down with uncanny timing and beaten within an inch of their life, all of their belongings stolen but left with their life. Carine would implement a citizen’s tax, supposedly at the behest of those back in Covarrias, one that would see something taken from the people of Nazafeza every two weeks. Influential people of Nazafeza would find themselves coerced, threatened into ensuring such a tax is enacted thoroughly throughout the township’s suburbs.
Worse of all would be the meaningless beatings, justified by Aprivanoans by empty and hollow words. Never would such assaults be in view of the powerful few of The Principality, but neither still would the powerful put a stop to them.
There is suffering in Nazafeza. Its people survive at the grace of their invaders, and perhaps time will turn violence to peace. But not yet. Not now. In these moments, the people face oppression and must live with it, staying strong for as long as they can. Holding out hope, day after day, that their saviours will once again come in force down The Salt Road.
Game Information
Nazafeza strains under the occupation of Principality forces. Its people poorer with passing time and with resentment diluted through feelings of guilt and coercion. There is no telling what Nazafeza will look like even a single Season from now, but it is well known that its people at least live. For some, perhaps under better circumstances, but for many it remains difficult.
Big Bev’s Bay remains firmly under Aprivanoan control and is inaccessible by Concordian Naval Investments.
All hero Characters that live in or around Nazafeza are assumed to have been able to successfully escape.
All Investments based in or around Nazafeza (The Salt Road) will find that they have produced no resources this past Season, rather than being destroyed, and will continue to produce no resources until its Territory is back under Concordian control. This is different to the standard rule of an Investment being entirely lost, to reflect how The Principality is caring for the land they have taken.
The Concord will have 2 Seasons to take back The Salt Road before these Investments are considered lost. In addition, these Investments cannot be moved while The Principality holds the Territory.
A Dance Upon The Dunes
The walls of Tadribar have seen much pass them by over their many years. Sands and shrubs, animals and people. Explorers and traders, nomads and warriors. Tadribar may be small, but it is no stranger to the world that wishes to visit its humble stones. The students and few people that live within its hardened border often reflect on such matters, some even aiming to pursue it as a topic of greater historic relevance.
Yet as always, it remains forgotten, small, and barely spoken of. Its historic relevance all too easily overshadowed by those larger, newer and more exciting sites. The stones of Tadribar stand stalwart to guard those few that remain, a simple shelter masking itself as perhaps the smallest of Andash’s settlements.
This past Summit, it would not stand alone. This past Season, it would see a greater number in its surrounds than it has in countless years.
The Heroic Andashi of the Summer Summit of Two-Two-Four would find themselves near Tadribar itself, at a Principality outpost half-built and well guarded. The walls of Tadribar would watch from a distance as such heroes fought hard to clear away that which did not belong, all in the name of protecting that which was theirs. All in the name of protecting Tadribar.
Yet months later, it would not be Concordians that camped around the fort of Tadribar, but those that served The Trade Prince. It would be the blooded warriors of a foreign army, one as yet unseen in this age. Tadribar, by its nature of simple stone, would only watch as the few Andashi who called it home would be hard pressed by ruthless invaders. Little blood would be spilled upon the sands within, but a great much would be spread across the sands without.
There would be no investigating the lands of Tadribar this Season, the planned reward for those that knew, for it was roamed by those that needed little reason to wage war. Tadribar would remain occupied, its white stones occasionally splattered a deep red, and time will tell whether it remains forgotten.
Game Information
Information from Tadribar would be harder to come across than that from Nazafeza, primarily due to the tendencies of its occupying force. Bareeva Al’Shakti El’Basalisk would not show the same restraint as Carine in Nazafeza, and while not all in Tadribar are slain, the few that would suffer would do so brutally.
The Concordian forces intending to investigate Tadribar, as per the success of the Andashi Skirmish last Summit, would find themselves unable due to the loss of the Territory.
All hero Characters that live in or around Tadribar are assumed to have been able to successfully escape.
All Investments based in or around Tadribar (The Salt Road) will find that they have produced no resources this past Season, rather than being destroyed, and will continue to produce no resources until its Territory is back under Concordian control. This is different to the standard rule of an Investment being entirely lost, to reflect how The Principality is caring for the land they have taken.
The Concord will have 2 Seasons to take back The Salt Road before these Investments are considered lost. In addition, these Investments cannot be moved while The Principality holds the Territory.
The Wrath of Unthinking Gods
The Idrian Cabal left behind a land that was a shadow of itself. The Lost Plane of Mukarrem, a place where there was no day or night, where grass was glass, where the world shifted in a time between times. Where the world threatened to fall away. This was the damage that the Magi of the Cabal had wrought. This was what they had wanted to protect, to study, to learn from. The people of the plains, The Al’Mai, put an end to this. In doing so they forced The Concord to acknowledge the damage that had been done and how it had been at The Concord’s consent that it had been done.
Part of the treaty between The Concord and The Al’Mai that put an end to their secession was that The Concord would attempt no research of The Lost Plane. These secrets must remain unknown and must remain outside of the abilities for The Concord to possess. But perhaps more importantly, The Concord must do whatever it could to undo the damage bought for with Concordian coin.
This past season, an attempt has been made at that.
The Senator of Mukarrem, Daud El’Priado, accompanied by the Archmage, Zarja Tal’Darev, carried an artifact of the Spheres into the Lost Plane. It was a roiling sphere of power, change, and flame. A gift of Anarch who’s energy was barely contained within the thin glass that surrounded it. Braving the Lost Plane they deposited it there and fled, for no one knew exactly what would unfold when great change befell great apathy.
The vast tapestry of the skies above the Priado Expanse turned to a every colour known. Like the aurora of the far south lights broke free the bonds of the earth and shattered a quiet sky. The glass blades of the Plane twinkled and reflected light and flame and hope and lightning. The ground itself sundered apart and glowed from within. It was as if the world was breaking and shining in equal measure, and it was beautiful to behold.
It took weeks before any even dared approach this flaming stormland. When they did they found a land broken by fissures that now rested easily. The glass grass of the Lost Plane was gone, and the sun once again shone in this distant place. But most concerning of all was The Roiling. A sphere some ten paces in diameter, half sunk into the ground at the centre of what was The Lost Plane. Sparking with lightning and spontaneously self-igniting and extinguishing, The Roiling is impossible to approach with any degree of surety, but it flows with a power magical energy that is the raw stuff of Anarch.
The Lost Plane is gone, in its place is something ever-new and ever-changing.
Game Information
Following the actions taken by The Archmage and the Senator of Mukarrem, The Lost Plane has been consumed in a firestorm of lightning and magic.
The Priado Expanse has lost the trait ‘Lost’.
There is almost nothing known about what lies in its place. The Roiling is of such great danger that without considerable efforts put forward to its study it is likely to remain a mystery. However, given how chaotic its energy has been so far, it is unlikely to remain in one form or effect for long.
There will be additional information for Daud El’Priado and Zarja Tal’Darev.
Further reading at Winds of the World - Autumn 225