Blood, Gold and Hellfire: An EU4 Anbennar, Mykx AAR

[Sybot]

Chapter One: The Corsair Kingdom
1444-1450

The galley Fleshcarver, somewhere on the Divenhal Sea

A pigeon, lean and well-travelled, swept down upon the galley. Hungry eyes stared up as it descended, just a little of reach, sweeping around the stowed sails and coming to rest upon a perch on the aft castle. There, a Gnoll was waiting for it, a mountain of fur and muscle with a wicked blade strapped to his belt and the scent of blood on his breath.

Kazz stood tall and looked out over the lower deck. Human slaves slumped over their oars, while Gnolls mostly lazed around in the midday sun. The crew was exhausted, the smoke rising from just beyond the horizon, proof of their victory, a coastal village plundered for all that was it worth. They couldn't rest long. Whatever the message, it was sure to be more work.

He reached out for the bird, a treat in his hand. It gingerly poked at the food, and Kazz took the chance to grab it. With one claw he slipped the message off its leg, and then stuffed the pigeon into his mouth. The fishermen from the night before had been pretty lean on meat, he needed the snack.

Chewing and picking bones and feathers out of his teeth, he descended into the captain's cabin. On a galley so small she was the only one who had her own, and even then, there was barely enough room for a desk and bedding. She sat at her desk, eyes closed, lost in thought.

"Captain, message," he grunted.

She didn't respond to him. Captain Mrynzu was larger than he was, more than capable of beating any other Gnoll in the pack in a fight, but she had always been more of a thinker than a fighter. Of course, when it was time for a raid she was just as much in the thick of combat as any other.

After a few moments, she clacked her claws together. From a corner of the room her personal slave, a Human girl half her height, emerged from the darkness and held out a hand. The girl was in a better state than the oar-slaves outside, even her shackles were cushioned. A bit of a luxury, Kazz thought as he handed the message over to the girl to read on behalf of the illiterate Gnolls.

"The Corsair King," the girl said, choking for a moment as she spoke her best attempt at Gnollish, "the Scourge-of-all-seas, the Great Viakkoc, calls for all captains and chieftains to muster to him, before the year ends."

Mrynzu opened her eyes, deep black like the deepest ocean depths.

"We will attend," she said, "Kazz, prepare the oars."

He grunted an acknowledgment and departed.

"And you," Mrynzu said, pointing to her slave.

The girl turned to her master and bowed. A very useful prize she had been. During a most daring raid past the Damesneck, Mrynzu had burned down one of the temples the Humans had raised to their pitiful gods, and found this literate girl among the slaves they had taken. Too thin to eat, too weak to labour, she was saved from becoming a sacrifice by her skills. She had stood up among the other cowering slaves and held out a book she had written as proof of what she could offer. That had taken bravery enough, and bought her a place under the captain's protection.

"I want to continue my journal, take notes," Mrynzu ordered.

Excerpts from the journal of Captain Mrynzu the Salt-Blade

There is something in the air. The scent of distant battle, real battle. The demons haven't spoken to me for months, drawn far away by some distant conflict seeking blood and flesh. Our most recently-taken slaves have spoken of a great war in the land they call 'Escann'. Perhaps the greatest champions of the war have clashed, perhaps oceans of blood are being spilt as you write. It does not affect us though. We corsairs of the open sea have our own concerns. The lands ruled by our Corsair King are but a part of the Sarhal. The Human lands on our borders fortify themselves against our terror, Kheterata struggles with its civil war, and the puny navies of the Divenhal cower at the sound of our oars.

We will be playing on the 1.35 compatible development version of Anbennar. This has a nice little addition to the selection screen showing an image of your race, an icon representing that Viakkoc has a spawnable nation (who we are really aiming for) and an icon that would appear if the nation has a unique mission tree (which Viakkoc does not).

My mother was one of those who took up the call of Viakkoc X as he led our people away from the Gnollakaz fury, was one of those who willingly took to the water to fulfil his dreams of the Divenhal and the Dameshead paying tribute to him, and was one of those who participated in the devastation of Khasa, earning glory and wealth for our family. His son, Viakkoc XI, has sworn to take up his dream. Yet, I find myself concerned.

The world is far larger than any of us know. He is thinking too small. The wind is turning, and the events in Escann may soon echo out across the seas and oceans to lands yet unknown.

Another addition is the ability to switch off entire continents, to improve performance or have a more focused game. As you can imagine, this hasn't been fully balanced so a lot of weirdness can happen if you remove a region important to the overall game, like Cannor or Aelantir. I haven't removed any regions.

We row for port in Akasat, our holds filled with slaves for sacrifice and tributes for our king. The Kult has grown more coordinated in recent years, demanding a regular supply of sacrifices to satisfy demonic hunger and ensure that their wrath is directed against our enemies. The tribes will be gathering at the end of the year to re-affirm their loyalty to Viakkoc and allow for any of the chieftains to challenge his rule. I expect none of them will have the guts.


Monstrous nations only have a single estate, the Monstrous Tribes. They have a few options for privileges that might be useful, but for now I just take one that boosts our demonic power. What is demonic power? Well…

I do not consider myself a truly zealous follower of the Kult. The demons speak to me true, as they do all Gnolls, yet I do not allow them to control me. The ocean is just as cruel as any demon, and to survive I have had to take a realistic approach. The bloodlust may only take me when I am ashore or boarding a vessel, slaughtering prey with my own blade. Let the landbound Kult throw themselves into a wild fury and destroy themselves. I will only give myself if a true Xhazobine arises.

The Gnoll Xhazobkult uses Orthodox mechanics. As we gain demonic power, it gives scaling bonuses and maluses up to the values shown. It can be spent on invocations to give temporary buffs, some incredibly good, and I'll show these off when I use them.

We returned along the coast of Ekha. The humans cowered in their harbours and sent out boats carrying tribute of fish for our food stocks. Officially, they need not, as their contribution of money and sacrifices satisfies their obligation to the Corsair King. Given how restless they have been I would not fault them for buying off an enterprising raider looking for easy plunder against a rebellious subject.

Each tributary also gives a small amount of demonic power in addition to the usual tribute.

The port of Akasat was bustling with raiders returning for the mustering. As we entered port among the mass of ships, I was struck with the difference that still lay between the humans and our own kind. Their fishing boats were far sturdier than the ramschackle galleys that we approached upon, even my precious Fleshcarver. We ought to ensure that we learn from what we loot, lest they gain an advantage over us. The Kult would advocate burning it all down and never letting our prey recover enough to overtake us, but this is a small corner of the world. Unless our king lives up to his title, there will be somewhere an enemy can develop in peace.

We start behind in technology and lacking the Feudalism institution. Luckily, some provinces start with it, if only we had the money to embrace it…

I procured a fishing boat and sent Kazz to deliver our tribute, then immediately set out again rather than try and dock in the middle of that chaos. Let those fools in the port squabble and fight amongst themselves, trying to steal each other's gains. I know my ship, I know my crew, and I know we can complete another loop of the West Divenhal before the deadline. I will return with plunder beyond imagining, and Viakkoc will have to make me his admiral.

Kazz brought back news from the port before we left. The Gnolls to the east sought an alliance. The cat-worshippers are in the middle of a civil war, and so Brrtekuh wished to cease the raids between our two peoples so that they could devote the greater number of their pack to an invasion of the ailing humans. A cunning strategy, but the oversized kittens have managed to beat us back again and again over the years. I wish them good hunting, and look forward to sparring with their garrisons in future raids on that coast.

Most of the chieftains have already assembled in Kokerrat, where Viakkoc holds his court. What a coward, living in the mountains as far away from the water as possible. And yet he calls himself 'scourge-of-all-seas'. It's clear he still favours the tribes rather than the captains. When I return with a mighty treasure, he will have to change his tune.

New unit models, fresh in the dev version. Aren't they cute little demon dogs!

The greatest plunder in all the seas, precious wine. The crew drank deeply last night as we rowed with haste away with the city of Wineport burning behind us. Half of their fleet was doused in their own wine and set alight, preventing us from chasing them. A few fools slipped overboard in their drunken stupor, and a couple got into a fatal brawl over some stupid grievance, but that's just the price of a good party. With a hold filled with wine, Viakkoc will surely bestow great favour upon me.

After returning we were intercepted by a few of the other captains led by a Gnoll named Rrikk. They wanted us to pool some of our gold and slaves and start assembling a new squadron of galleys. My treasure is mine and mine alone, so I fought for it. We blooded each other well, Rrikk and I, and fought each other to a stalemate where the only way to win would be to kill the other. With grace, I offered him a fraction of my plunder and a bottle of wine in honour of a good fight. Still, the Corsair King ought to be the one to paying for these new ships.

The muster took a strange turn. Viakkoc, in the presence of all of his chieftains and captains, announced that we would all be taking new oaths of loyalty to him and be granted titles in the Human styling. This was not what I had in mind when I said that we should learn from our enemies. Now I am the Baroness of some shitty coastal village, answering to the Count of whatever, but I much prefer the title of Captain and the freedom of the open water. The new obligations are just a formalised tribute. I have to provide a certain number of warriors and sacrifices to the Count, who passes them up the chain and no doubt takes his own cut.

All the pillaging gave us more than enough money to embrace.

He also announced more formal organisation within the Kult. The disorganised minor cults among the tribes are to induct their patrons into the greater host of demons, so that any Gnoll of the Kult is able to call upon the power of any demon. Some outer packs protested, and Viakkoc and the Kult leaders beat them into the dirt leaving them snivelling apologies. Idiots. This is a clear power grab, but that is exactly the way of things. Return to your patron, beg, borrow and sacrifice to gain power, then return and strike down the Kult, if you can even manage that.

The integration of cults in fully converted states gives a one-time boost to demonic power. It's a nice bonus for the early game, but we'll need other sources once everything is culted up.

I presented my gift of Lorentish wine to Viakkoc, hoping to gain my admiralty, or perhaps a chance to give him an heir, only to find that he had already taken one of my own fellow captains as his consort. Vea has a decent skill for combat, but is absolutely empty in the head in all other regards, so I have no idea how she managed to woo her way to his side. I almost challenged her for the position there and then, but thought better of it. For all the power and strong children he would give me, it would leave me stuck in that idiot's mountain fortress rather out on the sea where I belonged.

The tribes assembled in numbers larger than I had seen since I was child, and Viakkoc issued a call to arm and prepare for a great hunt. The treasures that we had brought from across the Divenhal was given out to the mightiest warriors who could prove themselves in front of the king. A torrent of blood descended on Kokerrat as they scrambled over themselves for a little bit of glory. Even I was not unaffected. So many Gnolls in one place and so much blood being spilt brought Xhaob's whispers back to my ears, and my blood boiled to go hunting once more.

A generic mission, but a useful one to grab for the morale bonus in those early wars.

Across the sea, the Humans were unaware of the threat hungering for their flesh and wealth. One of the great cities on the Dameshead, Vertesk, had raised a paragon of demonic might. I had seen the city once before, the dark tower looming over the river estuary had caught my eye, and I had the urge to mount my flag upon it, but it was too well-guarded to raid. The Emperor soon rallied his armies and struck down the dark wizard.

That's a very early War Against Evil. Appropriate too, as Vertesk is probably one of the evillest nations out there that doesn't involve crazy magic or monsters. Think 1984 for its citizens, while slaves are the most prominent trade good. The AI must have made some bad choices with its magic to piss off the Magisterium so quickly.

After returning to the coast, I started surveying my 'demesne'. Before I could return to the comfort of the Fleshcarver, a new order came through. A great sacrifice was to be held in Khasa, the capital of the Kingdom of Khasa that we had torn down. Arriving without any of my own would not do anything to improve my standing, so I took the time to select some prime candidates from my 'subjects'. My crew descended upon the village, dragging the strongest men out of their homes and engaging them in duels for their lives. None of them could defeat a Gnoll, of course, and those who survived were taken while those who died would keep the crew fed on the journey.

Another way to build demonic power is to gather sacrifices. This can have a negative effect on province development, however.

The great pyre in Khasa was visible from miles away, a mountain of wood taken by stripping the hillsides above the city of their trees. Almost as many slaves died in its construction as would be sacrificed, and their blood and flesh would be added to the offering to Xhazob. It was the most impressive sight that I had seen, a testament to the power of uniting the Kult under a central leadership. My crew participated in the work, building up a scaled down mock-up of the Fleshcarver on a prominence of the pyre and imprisoning our sacrifices inside.

An air of anger filled the celebrations, as our number were swelled by refugees from across the sea. The Humans of Busilar had launched an invasion of Gnollish territory in their hills, and from all the stories from the Gnolls fleeing on ramshackle craft were purging any Gnoll they found. Some Gnolls apparently were fleeing deeper into Human territory to the north, but I doubted that the Emperor would treat them any better.

Viakkoc himself lit the pyre, and the air was filled with smoke, the screams of the sacrifices and the hooting of the Gnolls as demonic power radiated. Under the heat and noise, Gnollish bodies twisted and grew stronger and battles broke out as they fought to drink in Xhazob's gift. Just as much Gnollish as Human blood covered the ground. As tempted as I was, I was not going to give myself over to the demons as they were. You need your wits about you at sea. When Kazz returned from the blood pits, a foot taller and far bulkier, I smacked him firmly on the snout and put him back in his place before he could get any funny ideas. The captaincy was still mine.

The cowards of Deshak had handed their crown over to Eborthíl in an effort to defend themselves against our invasion. With the tribes united and filled with demonic bloodlust, and the bolstered fleets guarding the straits, their efforts would be in vain. Bolstered fleets that should have been mine. Despite everything I had given to Viakkoc, he gave the title of admiral over to that bastard, Rrikk. As much as it grates to suffer under his command, I took the Fleshcarver out to battle.

The overconfident idiot brushed aside what he thought was the Deshaki fleet and began to pillage their coastline, but it had been a ruse. The greater part of the enemy linked up with reinforcement from their allies and sent us beaten back to safe harbours. At the very least he had a sense of naval strategy and did not get us all killed in a foolish charge of the enemy fleet. I lost good Gnolls and dozens of slaves from their cannon fire, and now the Fleshcarver will need months of repairs. All I can do is sit and stew while the war passes me by.

With the navy out of commission, Viakkoc sent orders for us to get the economy of Khasa back on track after we had trashed the city. Treating me like a common whip-holder makes my blood boil, but I at least have the satisfaction that Rrikk is alongside me doing the same menial tasks. It makes me wonder if he intends to turn the kingdom's economy away from pillage and towards production. So much for 'scourge-of-all-seas'.

I was not missing much in the larger war. Deshak fell quickly, and any attempt at landing was quickly rebuffed, but their fleet was too powerful for us to engage directly. Viakkoc was letting his troops roam the land and plunder their wealth while awaiting a surrender from the Deshaki nobles who had fled into hiding.

Brrtekuh's invasion of Kheterata had seen far greater success. Their entire western coastline had fallen, the Mother's Sorrow had split into petty kingdoms, and Kheterat itself was under siege by the Elves of Elizna who were attempting to claim the title and install their sun god over the Khetarchs.

Eventually the king of Eborthíl gave up trying to retake Deshak. The local nobility were gone, some fled across the sea to his court, others hidden in the mountains. Either way, the land was effectively ours. We took full control of the coastline and most importantly the shipyards.

But that was not before we stripped their lands for all they were worth, and took a significant portion of slaves back to for both work and sacrifice.

Everyone's favourite OP mechanic is available for Gnolls, though we don't have Horde Unity to worry about.

As I walked through the piles of loot, I encountered some interesting items. There were several pieces of artwork of Humans, Elves, and smaller creatures that looked impressively real. Most weren't in good shape, such as paintings splattered with blood or statues with their limbs hacked off, but it did leave me to wonder whether the mighty cities of Cannor had more such cultural treasures to claim. There were also a variety of books. I had no idea what they were, so I just grabbed as many as I could without catching the notice of the local pack leader. I'll leave them for you to read to me, later. Perhaps there is something to be learned.

I mustn't rest on my paws. This war was a victory for the tribes, not the real seascourge. The Corsair Kingdom is not worthy of this name, and I am the only one who sees it. If I can strike down those humans who think themselves so safe on their island, I can avenge the humiliation that Rrikk put me through and make a name for myself as the true leader of this fleet. Then, we can really begin.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Two: Golden Citadel
1450-1468

Toref Citadel, lower dockyard, 1461

A rumble echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver through the guards keeping watch over the docks. Carved into the sea-facing cavern by Dwarven engineers, the lower dockyard ought to be one of the safest places in the citadel. An enemy would have to fight through the entire citadel first, or force the great sea gates covering the cavern entrance, which had been closed at the start of the siege.

The defenders, a mix of Humans, Half-Elves and Dwarves, had considered this an easy and safe posting. Now though, their dread was rising. Another crash echoed through the dockyard and everyone's eyes turned to the gate, which was shaking and splintering.

"Form up! Ready weapons!" the sergeant yelled. Soldiers scrambled, grabbing swords, spears, crossbows and arquebuses.

Minutes passed, a gathering of dozens waiting at the entrance to the docks. The air was heavy, as though a haze of blood had already descended upon them. At least one of the defenders fainted and had to be slapped back awake by the sergeant.

The gates burst open without warning, almost blasting off their hinges in a roar of wood and metal. A shattered wooden hull swept into the cavern, a galley that was on the verge of shaking apart with every oar stroke. A dozen cannons had been mounted on the bow, and had blown themselves apart and nearly destroyed the vessel along with them. Standing atop the wreckage of wood was a towering Gnoll, eyes like the pits of the Infernal Court and a gleaming white blade in her hand.

Her oarsmen did not halt, and the galley barrelled straight into the docks, sending clouds of debris into the air.

"Forward! Drive them into the water!" the sergeant yelled. Gnolls hated water. It was known. Knocking them in would leave them scrambling and easy prey for a crossbow. This was their only chance.

The defenders rushed down to the docks where the galley had now enmeshed itself, but were met by hooting shouts and chattering laughter. A pack of Gnolls, with the white-blade at its head, leapt from the galley and bounded across the ruined docks to meet the defenders. Spears lowered, crossbows and guns fired, and blood spilt into the water.

Yet, they kept coming. Infused with infernal power, only a couple of the attackers buckled and slipped into the water. The rest were only emboldened by their wounds, diving into the defenders and engaging in a furious and bloody melee. Behind them, more galleys filled with eager Gnoll warriors entered the cavern and prepared to make a slightly more orderly landing.

Later, Mrynzu stood at the top of the cavern, waiting for her troops to finish eating so they could progress deeper into the fortress. Gnawing on a chunky Dwarven leg-bone, she could feel the bloodlust still pumping in her veins and the urge to charge straight inside, but one insane plan was enough for day. She gave thanks to Xhazob for granting the power of his host, and looked down at the ruins of the Fleshcarver. It would make a good pyre for the sacrifices they retrieved from this place.

There was movement at the entrance, and she drew her blade, leg still dangling from her snout.

A Gnoll entered, as coated in blood as she was and loaded with captured jewellery. Kricoun, the commander of the landside invasion, gave her a look.

"Looks like somebody had fun," he said.

Mrynzu dropped the bone from her jaws to say, "Same to you. The rest of the fort is taken?"

"Not yet, many holdouts remain," he replied, snarling, "I need more warriors."

"For an equal portion of the treasure for me and my crew," Mrynzu said, eyeing the gold Kricoun wore, "and perhaps another prize."

Kricoun let out a cackling laugh, and accepted her offer. She tossed him the bone to keep him occupied and went to rally her troops. Further blood and glory awaited them.

Excerpts taken from the journal of Captain Mrynzu the Salt-Blade

On my orders, several cargo ships were outfitted with captured cannons and sent out to pursue traders in the Divenhal. The Fleshcarver may be fast in short bursts, but the slaves do not have the endurance to chase down a ship fleeing with the wind. The greatest cities of Cannor lie just outside of our reach, but we can take their wealth before it even sees their shores.

No matter what reforms Viakkoc makes, we are a people who take. Why call yourself a Corsair King at all if you would rely on the produce of the land? I have called for an expansion of the piratical fleet to devour the wealth of the Dameshead, but Rrikk, still somehow in the favour of the king, has shut that down in favour of more galleys.

I should have covered this last update, so here they are now. Gnolls have a more warlike and less diplomatic disposition, with economic and social stats based on having a repressive slave economy.

Not that I am complaining about the number of galleys within the fleet. There is nothing more satisfying that seeing a ram smash into the side of a ship too fat with treasure to escape and the shocked and panicking crew overrun by eager and hungry Gnolls. However, after our last performance it leaves me concerned that the Humans will build larger and stronger carracks until they reach the point that even a squadron of galleys, flimsy and vulnerable to cannon fire, could not match one.

Militarily, they are reliant on Shock and Morale damage, and are actually pretty bad at naval combat.

Viakkoc called his lords and ladies (ugh) back to Kokerrat to make a great announcement. When we arrived, we found his son, the younger Viakkoc, stood beside the chief shaman of the Kult in a large tent. The boy had brought with him a Human of the same age, and once the crowd was arrayed, he plunged a knife into the Human's heart and let out a primal scream. Sickly yellow-green fire erupted from his hands, incinerating the canvas around us and sending many of the cowardly land-dwelling Gnolls cowering, but I stood firm and in awe. The shaman explained that the boy had shown a deep connection with the Pits of Grilax and could call upon the demonic power of our true masters with ease.

As burning canvas settled around me, illuminating the entire assembled leadership in the colours of hell, I began to wonder just what I could do if I and my line had access to such power.

At the same summit, Viakkoc the elder also announced an official policy of expanding slavery to all non-Gnolls and in particular to roles that had mostly escaped it due to not being manual labour. Artisans, merchants, and bureaucrats would now serve the state and the Kult or else be chosen for sacrifice. A terrible idea. Why not let them live in peace for a while, then come and take whatever they had built, like a proper Gnoll.

Upon returning to port, I found that you, my scribe slave, had managed to comprehend some the books that I had retrieved. Among them were instructions on how to build a carrack, though clearly designed for Humans and non-slave labour. Fascinating, but most of the facilities to build such a vessel had been razed. If I could gain control of the fleet though, I would be interested in having a flagship built.

I really want to build a Galley flagship but for some reason the option is greyed out and there's no tooltip appearing or hint on the wiki. Does anyone know why? I can still build a Heavy/Light flagship.

The inhabitants of Deshak were resistant and restive as we swept through to collect more sacrifices for the next great pyre. They ought to be better prepared, and have their offerings ready for us so that we don't have to burn them out just to get what we are owed.

An example of what can happen while gathering sacrifices. One sacrifice is worth one percent demonic power, so I don't know if it is a particularly good trade.

There has been a suggestion among the captains that we offer our oar slaves the ability to buy their own freedom as additional motivation. I am…not entirely unopposed to the idea. As pitifully weak as Humans are, if they can demonstrate true strength in battle, they can earn appropriate rewards. It's not like they would have much choice but to stay with the fleet, considering the tribes would likely re-enslave them the moment they set foot on land.

The fool Rrikk is dead, and not by my hand as much as I would like that to be the case. During the great pyre in Deshak someone he ate must have disagreed with him, or he could have simply too weak to accept a demonic gift. I have heard of diseases being granted to transform the body and spread plague to the foes of Xhazob. Either way, there is now a power vacuum in the fleet, and no obvious replacement with Viakkoc's favour.

Our glorious king is far too busy dealing with a rebellion on the land to care much about us at sea. A member of the Khasani royal family returned with an army of mercenaries from Cannor and a hastily-raised army of locals who were, for some reason, upset with our rule. Khasa was taken, but they would soon have twice their number in Gnolls descending upon them.

Rather than face us in battle, the prince fled into the Deshaki mountains. Ironic, that he was willing to fight against his fellow Humans. What a coward. Still, Viakkoc cannot rest until the craven prince is put down once and for all. That will give me time to consolidate my position among the captains. We will hold a moot in Deshak to decide, in our own way, who is the right one to lead. A little bloodshed and demonstration of dominance will work more quickly than months of politicking and backstabbing.

There were further issues with his economic reforms, this time from the Gnollish side. We do not care for menial labour, that is work for the slaves. There are simply not enough slaves to go around and fill all the new jobs he is attempting to set up, and no Gnoll wishes to take such tasks themselves. This is especially the case among the areas where the Kult is strongest, which have seen an almost complete purge of local slaves in the name of securing sacrifices.

It is done. The fleet has submitted to me as their admiral, and Viakkoc has no real option but to let it happen or risk losing the real source of income for his kingdom. Even more galleys have been added to our number, and we stand ready to strike at the Isles of Tef. The tribes can have their fun overrunning Deshak once again, but these islands are the real prize. With this we can take our first steps into Cannor and the wealth of the heart of the Human and Elven nations.

Unlike the previous fool, I do not wait for the enemy to gather their fleet and assemble it around their powerful heavy warships. I struck out and hit the fleets of Deshak, Eborthíl and their allies one at a time. Our galleys, with oarsmen working hard for a taste of freedom and treasure, chased down theirs and my crew easily sank their pitiful squadrons. The numbers quickly turned to our favour, and in a reversal of the previous war the seas were ours.

Viakkoc was apparently still uninterested in taking to the water, as he assigned the invasion of the Isles of Tef to a Gnoll named Kricoun. A fierce warrior by all accounts, but I was not about to wait at sea for him to batter down the walls of the great dwarven-built fortress of Toref Citadel. I had my own plans.

It was an incredible plan. Gather all the cannons that we had captured over the course of the war so far, and use them as a battering ram to get into the sealed cave harbour of the citadel. They would not expect an attack from the sea. It was a success, devastatingly so, but it cost me the Fleshcarver in the process. No matter, as I was not so attached that I couldn't re-desecrate another galley and replace it. The bigger pain was that Kricoun had already found another way to breach the citadel, so I had to rally the crews to link up with him and join in before all the glory and spoils were taken.

Naval barrage, a very nice ability to have when you can't build any cannons of your own.

Having acquitted myself greatly throughout the course of the war, and returned countless treasures heavy enough to sink a galley, I had effectively gained massive influence within the court of the Corsair King. With my words in his ear, the days of incompetence and failure should be over, and a future full of riches awaited the kingdom.

The war ended with most of the Isles of Tef coming under our domination, along with the remainder of the Deshaki coast. Our raiders ran rampant through the cities of Eborthíl and Port Jurith, burning as they went and clapping chains around anyone who tried to flee the flames. Thousands attempted a crossing to the mainland, but my fleet held the waters and sent so many to their watery graves with but a nudge of a galley ram or smack of an oar. The sight was almost like an inverse pyre. I wonder if there is a demon named for the ocean, who would accept such sacrifices.

A greater prize was a carrack that we were able to seize from the shipyards. The cowards had fled without scuttling it, and so it fell into my hands to serve as my flagship. Named as the Salt-Tower, it shall be the indestructible centrepiece of my battleline, and the force that will shatter any defences that lay before it.

But the greatest prize of all was the citadel itself. A safe harbour for my fleet, a perfect place to conduct raids from and a good home to raise a litter as well. I was named Countess of Toref, and honestly, I am starting to see the appeal of such titles. A proportion of the gold produced by the mines underneath the citadel is mine to do with as I wish, while the remainder goes to the King. Besides jewellery for myself, I have ordered most of my gold melted down and coated in sheets on the outer wall of the citadel, so any sailor will see my success as they approach.

Busilari forces crossed onto the island, occupying the land to the east of my citadel. No doubt they want to contain us and prevent an invasion of the mainland, but they are merely trapping themselves on the wrong side of my fleet.

The unrest in Khasa continued, with mobs of Humans rising up against the extension of slavery across the economy. I do not know what they intended to accomplish, a mob of peasants and weaklings against Gnollish garrisons, but at least Viakkoc had the sense to put them in their place once again.

We have to be ready for a war of a greater variety. To the east Kheterata lies divided into three. The Elves had only managed to take part of it in their campaign, and while they now have the grudging backing of the Khetarchs they only hold a portion of the river. The rest is held either by our allies, or by our old enemies in Gnollakaz. A three-way battle for hegemony over the land would be incredible, and certainly filled with glory and plunder.

Kheterata uses Empire of China mechanics in 1.35, and Elizna now has the Mandate. It's currently fairly high, so they are no pushover.

Despite this, Viakkoc is still focused on internal matters, such as raising a temple to darkness over Kokerrat in honour of his son. The strength of the Kult is still growing and the ascent of a demon-touched prince will only make it more so, so madness may yet overwhelm good sense. I am considering sending my new daughter to learn from the demon priests so that I have a way in if I need it.

There was a recent tragedy far to the east. Tluukt, matriarch of the Gnolls of Bulwar, has died. After the loss of Zokka to the zealots, she was the last pin holding together Gnollish rule in Bulwar. I fear that her clan will fall apart under pressure from the Elves, who then have the capacity to aid Elizna against us. It is one thing that I regret about taking to the sea, as when the battle is so far inland, without even a river great enough to carry a galley, there is nothing I can do to participate.

The last remnants of Deshak in the mountains have been subjugated, by our own allies. It boils my blood to see such an insult go unopposed, but I can also see that keeping the others as a buffer against the situation in Kheterata works to our favour. For now.

I would have gone to Viakkoc to make my opinion clear on the matter, but I soon learned that he was dead. A fit of madness during the pyre, a lucky claw-stroke in the bloody melee, or the will of a demonic mastermind, it wasn't exactly clear what had led to him choking on his own blood. All I knew was that his son, Viakkoc XII, had ascended to the throne of the Corsair Kingdom, and that my daughter, Lyhz, would be my key to getting access to him and leading him exactly where I wanted. Straight onto the plump and ripe coastlines of Cannor.

To be continued…

Vote

Rather than pile on all the votes at once when we finally getting to the point of splitting off from Viakkoc, I've decided to spread them out through these updates. First up, the legal code will be a major issue for the new nation, especially as so many ships will be away from civilization. What should be the general approach when drafting the legal code for free crew members?

Harsh Captaincy – The captain holds absolute power on their vessel, and should reward criminality with brutality. The crew suffers what they must.
Lenient Justice – A tyrant will inevitably lead to dissent; thus, a captain must treat their (non-slave) crew with respect. Granting leniency and taking a more proportionate share of the plunder will keep both sides satisfied.
Communal Responsibility – The crew are one, working together to survive a harsh life on the sea. Equal treatment and collective decision-making will bring them together.

Vote below by clicking on the image


Voting will remain open until the nation of Mykx is founded

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Three: Hellfire over Cannor
1468-1491

Hilltop overlooking the city of Hapainé, Busilar, 1471

Erela held the journal tight to her chest as an unnatural warm wind blew across the ruined hillside. Thousands of marching Gnolls had churned the land into a devastated mudscape, and the few trees had been chopped down to build an elevated platform for the ritual and a pyre for the sacrifices they would take if this was to succeed. She stood at the back of the platform, an honoured position for a slave such as herself. The only other Humans, captured Busilari nobility, were knelt in front of the priests, beaten and dressed in rags. Their finest clothes and jewellery had been ripped from them as the horde had rampaged through their homes. Erela was numb to it now. She had seen the same scene a thousand times in her service to the Salt-Blade line.

The shouting and whooping of the assembled army reached a fever pitch, and an overeager Gnoll grabbed at her shoulder, teeth bared. Kazz, stood just beside her, immediately squared up to him and gnashed his teeth. An old warrior, bulky and powerful, was enough to intimidate the enthusiastic warrior into backing off.

"Do not fear, slave," Kazz said, ruffling her hair before turning back to face the front.

They had never referred to her by her actual name, just 'slave', or 'scribe', but she had never forgotten it, not since she had been taken. It was a reminder that she was more than just a tool, and that she had initiative. Initiative that was now paying off, after nearly thirty years of service, as she shaped the life of an entire prominent line of Gnollish nobility.

Her young mistress, Lyhz, was one of the youngest Gnolls stood at the very front of the platform. Lyhz caught her looking, and gave her a wave, knife in hand. Erela stared back, and gave a smile, toothless of course, and a slight wave in response.

The sound of drums silenced the crowds and everyone's eyes turned to the front. Atop the highest point on the platform, the Corsair King began to recite an incantation. The wind increased in ferocity, making Erela feel as though she was stood besides the flames of a pyre, with the scent of cooked human flesh in the air.

One of the priests called out, "I name Forzzra! It shall all be ours!"

Lyhz spoke next, her voice firm and loud over the howling wind, "I name Kentryn! They do not deserve their treasures!"

The third priest cried out, "I name Kzryl! Our fury shall be unrelenting!"

A moment later, wet, strangled cries filled the air as each priest executed their sacrifices. The wind redoubled in intensity, swirling around Viakkoc as he raised his hands into the air and let out a howl that could be heard across the hilltop and down in the city below. The wind swirled and filled with embers, rising and condensing above his hands. In a flash, the air ignited and a green-yellow light blossomed over the hilltop. A fireball larger a house roared in the air, leaving Erela feeling as though her hair might catch fire any moment. Some of the Gnolls closer to Viakkoc in fact suffered that fate, their fur igniting and their flailing, burning bodies stumbling off the platform.

The king himself was unaffected, despite his hands grazing the bottom of the inferno.

"I name Xhazob! Strike them down!" Viakkoc shouted, and he flung the fireball forward.

The light descended down the hill and out of sight, suddenly leaving Erela dark-blind as nighttime resumed. A few terrible seconds later there was a roar and the crashing of stone. The city had been breached. A cheer rang up from the assembled Gnolls, and they began to rush down the hill to take the battle inside, though most on top of the platform stayed where they were.

Erela leaned against Kazz, her breathing ragged even though she had done nothing but watched. She had seen a lot, but that had been something else. The wind died down, and the air was deathly quiet besides the battle cries getting ever more distant.

"Scribe!" Lyhz said, a toothy grin bared. She ran over to the two of them, practically bouncing. Her hands were still covered in the blood of her sacrifices.

"Yes, young mistress?" Erela asked.

"Did I do well?" the Gnoll. As young as she was, she was only as tall as Erela herself, so they were able to look eye-to-eye. Lyhz's eyes sparkled despite the dark night and their darker colour.

Erela cast a glance at Viakkoc XII, who was now swarming with attendants. Her charge had just participated in the doom of thousands, but she had already risen to one of the highest positions in the Kult, and had direct access to the king himself. Erela was not sure would come of it, but with the fleet and the Kult perhaps the Salt-Blade line could create something altogether new.

"You did perfectly," she said, giving Lyhz a scratch under her snout.

Excerpts from the journal of Lyhz, daughter of Mrynzu, priestess of Kentryn

I'm old enough now that mother has let me look at how to run the citadel. She showed me how we had made a fortune by making all the captured soldiers work in the mines. Most of the gold went to Via, but our slice made us the richest nobles in the land!

I have been very busy with my temple studies. New temples are being raised every day on the mainland with the money taken from our mines and from raiding the coasts to the north. As a priestess I need to chose a patron demon from the host, but its so tricky. I can't just pick Xhazob and be done. Mother wants me to pick something related to the sea, but all the elder priests talk about is sand, gold, and blood, not water.

Mother is dead. She was always so strong, and now she is gone. Her soul has surely been devoured by now, so the whispers say, so I cannot even try to contact her through the blood of a sacrifice. Yeena, one of the captains from her faction, has taken the Salt-Tower and the fleet, and Kazz has sworn to keep an eye on me until I'm fully grown. Challengers are sure to try and take the golden citadel from us, but he is strong. Finding my patron is even more important now, so that I can call upon their power and let him rest.

The Humans are fighting amongst themselves over petty marital squabbles. Mother always said it was for fools, that you could only rely on your wits and strengths, not a random Gnoll that just happened to give you a litter. But it has been a revelation. Just like a spurned mistress, the ocean is envious. She desires what the land has, and will take from it through tide and wave and storm. Kentryn empowers those who take, and through his power I will take what I am owed.

We, all the new priests inducted into the Kult, were summoned by Via for a great gathering in front of the temple in Khasa. He called for a great pillage of Busilar, while their armies were away fighting for trivial purposes. Each priest had to call upon an Invocation of Hellfire from their patron, with the greatest being allowed to go to war alongside him. I envisioned a fortress twice as large as mine, built by the fat and lazy rulers on the mainland, and the power of Kentryn flowed through me, igniting my sacrifices before I even had the chance to slit their throats myself. Even I was amazed, and Via selected me to be one of his personal priests!

For ten demonic power, you can run one invocation for twenty years. Only one invocation can run at a time, but they can be switched out at any time. The Invocation of Hellfire is by far the strongest, turning your armies into murder machines in the shock phase, while the others are average and maybe not worth spending power on unless you really need what they offer.

The chosen few were invited to discuss Via's plans for the campaign against Busilar. He wanted us to add our power to his, to draw the demonic energy in and enhance his own. His own talents primarily lie in elemental magic, drawing on the Pits themselves to call forth hellfire on our foes, so together we could flood entire cities with flames. I was enthusiastic and maybe spoke a bit too eagerly and out of turn, but Via was kind enough to acknowledge my excitement and bring forward more sacrifices.

We didn't cover magic much in the dwarven campaign, so here is some of the run down. There are eight schools of magic, and your ruler can have one of four levels in each: Proficient (effectively no skill), Talented, Renowned, Legendary. The levels can be trained, but a mage from a race without extended lifespan is unlikely to be able to progress more than one school from Proficient to Legendary. The starting stats are fairly random, so we are very lucky to have Evocation starting at Renowned.

Then and there, we conducted a ritual that resonated through every Gnoll within a hundred miles. I could feel my blood stirring and burning, and I'm not even a warrior! The war ritual would sharpen our claws, strengthen our muscles, and harden our fur, and make our warriors a match to any mounted knight of Cannor. It was time for the invasion to begin.

The reason that its lucky is that Evocation is where the war magic lives, giving us another boost on top of the Invocation of Hellfire. If Viakkoc was Legendary it would be even stronger. Evocation also gives us access to powerful siege spells.

The crossing fell with ease. The Humans had been fighting up near the Dameshead, and their fleet was exhausted and depleted, leaving it easy prey for Yeena's forces. I was able to watch the battle from the peak of the citadel, and entreated Kentryn for power for every Human soul he swallowed.

The war progressed very quickly, and soon we were on the doorstep of their capital. Our raiding parties freely ravaged the land, and a bunch of nobles were swept up as sacrifices. As I and the other chosen were called up to join the siege, I was inundated by so many gifts of gold and personal slaves from the warriors, seeking my favour, it was so sweet. At Kentryn's silent urging, I demanded even more! Everything was sent back to Toref to join the hoard.

Siege magic can be cast from the Ruler Magic menu, but it also has a shortcut in the form of a decision that will list all available siege magic options.

It was an incredible sight to see, when Via launched a fireball more than a mile down the hillside. The city walls almost melted under the heat, and the flames greedily devoured any Humans who were foolish enough to get too close. Gnolls too, Xhazob takes all. Via did not participate in the assault and he told us that he was concerned that if he led the charge, wreathed in hellfire, he might be mistaken for a new Xhazobain. I think that would be cool! I don't know why that would be a problem! After feeling his magic pulsing through my body, I can't think of a better leader for a great Xhaz against the weaklings.

Our new Busilari slaves still held onto too much of their pride. As they were branded with the hellfire-whip of Xhazob and separated to be shipped to different ports across the Divenhal, they started to become more compliant and productive. The whip masters in Toref had been reporting we'd been running out of mining slaves, so it has been a very productive plunder.

Years passed as we ravaged our way across the land. I learned much of the ways of conquest during that time. How best to hunt down loose slaves, where cowards tried to hide themselves and their treasures, what mighty structures they had built and how best to tear them down. Most of the treasure was passed up to Via, but through my portion of the spoils as a chosen priestess and a countess I am now one of the wealthiest Gnolls in the kingdom. Kentryn asks me to take more, to climb over the bodies of the others to stand besides Via.

As we conducted raids across the border into the Empire of Anbennar, we encountered the unusual sight of Gnolls fighting alongside Humans. After capturing some, we found these traitors had renounced Xhazob and sworn themselves to the Human and Elven gods in exchange for protection from the Emperor. I sacrificed them myself for that insult.

The Dovesworn Gnolls are pretty interesting, but don't have too much content

Finally, the fervour died down, and we returned fat with plunder. Our tribes still held swathes of the coast, as well as liberated Gnollish territory in the western hills, and they made an ongoing effort to ensure that all signs of Human civilisation were razed and the survivors enslaved. Busilar had once been completely ruled by Gnolls, and now it would be again.

Via has a child, Little Via, and I can't help but bristle at the thought that he isn't mine. Mother once said that she had felt the same, and until now I thought she was just being dramatic. I need a litter of my own, a proper daughter or son raised to desire what others have, wield the powers of Kentryn, and with the same common sense that Mother had shown.

The Emperor declared our invasion of Busilar a disaster of unimaginable proportions, and called for his subjects to team up against us. Xhazob guide us, this is why Via should have taken the title of Xhazobain. The Humans, Elves, and their mixed progeny would not stand a chance against the full force of a raging Xhaz. Each priest of the Kult has called upon their patron to act against the rulers of the Empire, to sow discord and slow their mustering.

I do not know if the demonic host is too busy with the task we have given them, or if they have abandoned us. As we attempted to finish off Eborthíl and their ally, Verne, Via faltered in his power and failed to breach the walls of the wyvern rider's great coastal fortress.

An example of what failure looks like when casting a fireball.

The Emperor must have seen this as a sign of weakness, as he and his vast army are now descending upon us. All the greatest warriors and priests have been called to Cannor, for the final battle is upon us. If we should win, then whether he believes it or not Via truly is the Xhazobain.

Our fleets, while powerful, were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Though three times as many enemy galleys were sunk, they were forced to withdraw back to the Sarhali mainland, leaving me along with Via and the rest of the armies trapped in Cannor.

Vast armies crossed the mountains into Busilar, numbering somewhere between six-to-ten times our number. Via was not disheartened, as he called upon all the Gnolls of Cannor to rise up and join him in battle. For the first time he intended to take the field, and call reams of hellfire directly onto the enemy armies. Cries of "Xhaz" echoed across the land, and I was among them, as we prepared to meet the invaders head-on.

When your ruler is a mage, you want to use this decision rather than the usual button for turning them into a general. This will give them the extra pips that a war wizard gets.

We descended upon them outside the fortress at Lorincrag under a sky green with hellfire. The other priests and I invoked our pacts with all the power we could muster, while Via charged atop a war hyena with his blade blazing hot. There were so many, but we cut down three of theirs for everyone one of ours. Then their mages entered the fray. Great barriers were raised over the army to block our fireballs, and war wizards engaged on equal footing with our greatest warriors, striking them down with fire and lightning. Via sounded the retreat, and we fled into the hills with our tails between our legs. Our dreams of Xhaz had died within days.

The power of all the military buffs we have. Consider just how large the numbers disparity is there, and yet we still came out ahead in casualties. And actually survived.

The war was not over, though. We began engaging in guerrilla war, striking wherever the enemy mages were not. The siege of my citadel was lifted, and the Isle of Tef returned to our control as we were able to ship our army over the strait when our allies distracted the coalition fleet.

But eventually sheer numbers wore down our fleets and ended up with our armies trapped having been split up during an attempted crossing. Blind zealous fury would not carry us any further, and I thought back to Mother's lessons. A little bit of cunning was needed, and could turn a defeat into an opportunity.

We continued to strike where they were weakest, slaying their mages and killing more than twice our number. When outnumbered nearly ten-to-one it would not matter in the end, but it would sap their will to fight.

Viakkoc approached one of their mighty mage-kings and offered a deal that would see Gnollish forces withdraw from the mainland and pay a significant sum of reparations. Exhausted, with more than a quarter-million dead from disease and battle, the imperial armies agreed to the deal and allowed us to return to the Isles of Tef. During the confusion of the withdrawal, many of the Hill Gnolls in western Busilar took the opportunity to break away, while Eborthíl tried to reclaim some of their islands in the hope that we would be too exhausted to oppose them.

Can you see the trick?

They were wrong, as our angry and hungry warriors descended upon them and slaughtered them. The pyres burned high, both in mourning for those we had lost in the war and in celebration for our subsequent victory, and the screams of the sacrifices echoed long into the night. It was not all in vain, as we had carried away a massive portion of Busilar's wealth and population in our brief occupation. Xhazob and his host would smile upon us, and forge our greed and envy into a fire that would burn them down in revenge one day.

The AI does not care that I was still at war with a nation I just offered to return provinces to, so I can take them right back.

Our fleets had been shattered, with only half of our galleys surviving. At the very least, the Salt-Tower still stood tall at the head of it all. Much of our treasure will need to go into building ships, perhaps more mighty carracks, and facing the Humans on an even footing.

A pirate crew docked at the citadel today, and swaggered up to sell me some maps at a ridiculous inflated price. I almost had them thrown out, until they told of strange and valuable artefacts the Elves they had raided had been carrying as they approached port in Venáil. Curious as to the source, I haggled down their price until I was satisfied and got my hands on the Elven maps. They showed ocean currents that lead to the west, with hints of land beyond there. The possibilities were endless, but I was not sure how much of this I wanted to trust to Via after his failure against the Humans. I discretely had the maps sent to Yeena so that plunder of these new trade routes could begin, and directed my desires to what treasures might lay in this shadowed land to the west so that Kentryn might favour us.

Little Via is a different beast to his father. Wrathful and cruel, but to his fellow Gnolls and not just his slaves. Fury is good, if it is directed at the right targets. Are the demons having us turn on each other for our failures?

Travelling back and forth between Kokerrat and Toref, things are really shifting. When I was a pup most Gnolls were squatting in the ruins of the cities we burned, or in tents on the outskirts of the cities we raided for slaves. Now, more often we are building for ourselves, making use of the know-how of the Cannorian slaves to build up our cities. The Kult is commissioning great images of our patrons to stand watch over our temples and our pyres. From what Kazz says, things have changed so much they are almost unrecognisable.

Thirsty for vengeance, Via led another great raid into Busilar. I could feel the fight had left him though, even as he levelled their capital with an earthquake. Hellish rock formations tore the city apart, and he ordered every able-bodied inhabitant and every piece of wealth to be seized. Then, he told us we would be heading home.

Magical Infamy is a stat that determines how evil your mage ruler is seen as. If it is too high, they will be declared a Witch-King and every 'good' nation will get a CB against you. It can be raised by casting spells that cause indiscriminate damage, conducting unethical magical research, performing necromancy, and probably a few other ways. I think it might rise faster if your mages have ties to the Magisterium. I assume the ruler of Vertesk did some combination of the above in quick succession to get the hammer to fall on them in Chapter One.

We returned rich in body and soul, and the pyres lit up across the kingdom, but it was as though the dream of a great Xhaz across Cannor had been snuffed out completely as we abandoned all the land we took. Would Xhazob be content with us raiding around the edges of their civilization, or would he have us want more? I know what I want, what Kentryn is telling me to do. I will contact Yeena, see if she stole any more maps of this mysterious new land.

You can also gain sacrifices in peace treaties, the more development their capital has the better.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Four: The Despised
1491-1502

Toref Citadel, Countess' Chambers, 1484

The young mistress scratched her claws across the paper, and growled in frustration. Erela didn't offer any reaction, except to offer the Gnoll child another piece to work on. She had never had children of her own, had barely even interacted with a Human child besides those who were already broken by their enslavement. Perhaps that included herself as well. And now she was being asked to teach Lyhz' daughter to read and write.

If nothing else it was a sign of things changing. Erela had now served three generations of the Salt-Blade line, but the child in front of her would be the first to be literate. They were sat opposite each other, on a desk plated with gold from mines below. The whole room was filled with treasures, gifts from the Countess-Priestess to her daughter. Even the paper was of the highest quality, freshly raided from ships sailing between Bulwar and Cannor.

"I don't need to learn letters," the child snapped, "that's your job."

"I won't be around forever, young mistress," Erela said. She was getting old, past her fiftieth year. Her body was weaker, and her hair was greying. Even with decent treatment, for a slave, the decades of restrictions wore on her deeply.

"Then I'll get another Scribe!" the child declared, pointing out the window with her claws in the vague direction of the lands of Busilar.

It wasn't much use arguing with an angry Gnollish child. Even at six years old, she was as large as a young teenage Human and could probably overpower Erela without even using her claws. Erela remembered the first time she had seen Lyhz's litter, coated with blood as one of the young pups devoured the others. From birth they were monsters, so Erela had been working hard to induct a little bit of civilised behaviour into them. She could not take all the credit, the simple pressures of Cannorian advancement were forcing the Gnolls to adapt, but the Salt-Blades had been a key part of that.

She considered how best to appeal to the child in front of her.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Erela asked.

"A mighty pirate!" the child replied without hesitation. She had been raised on stories of her grandmother's exploits.

"Imagine you are the captain," Erela said, "a great pirate, with many victories. The crew loves you. Now, you have taken a map to hidden treasure from a ship of weaklings."

The child nodded along enthusiastically, eyes glittering like jewel-ringed pits.

"Your Scribe tells you what is written on the map, and you sail to seize the treasure. You arrive, and there is nothing. The Scribe lied, and escaped with the real treasure."

"Traitor!" the child cried, her fur rising in anger, "have them flogged and flayed!"

"Whether you catch the liar or not, your crew is upset that you didn't realise sooner. One day, they throw you overboard and replace you with a Gnoll who can read."

"I'd kill them all first!" the child said, seething. She leaned forward, claws dug into the desk leaving deep dents in the gold.

Erela stepped away to pull a large piece of parchment from a corner of the room and spread it out across the desk. One of the stolen Elven maps. The girl's demeanour changed instantly, and she began poring over it, marvelling at the intricately detailed coastlines, ocean currents, and trade winds.

"Now imagine that you can read the words," Erela said, running her finger over the western islands, still shrouded in mysterious fog but marked with descriptions of ancient ruins and vulnerable colonies, "and your crew is around you, listening to you, not to one of your slaves."

Finally, the child seemed to have a breakthrough as she stared at the map. She pointed out the largest word on the map, hanging high over the western edge.

"What does this say?" she asked.

"That says 'Aelantir'," Erela replied, "it's where the Elves are trying to return to. A land of secrets and treasure."

"Ael-an-tir," the child said, sounding out the syllables as she read them from the parchment. Her eyes drifted to the eastern side of the map and she pointed at the island off the coast of Lorent. "Something-ael?" She paused. "Ven-ael!"

Erela smiled at the child before her. Not quite right, but she had the spirit now.

"I think you will be a mighty pirate indeed, Mykx," Erela said.

Excerpts from the journal of Lyhz, Countess of Toref, Priestess of Kentryn

Our enthusiasm is dropping, and the demonic fire in our veins is quieting. I took the liberty of beseeching our patrons for a different invocation. With increasing interest in the lands to the west, I want all eyes on their ship movements. Through Kentryn I can see through their sight and find the information I seek.

We have turned to extracting more out of the Humans we already control. A new tributary system has been put in place, which gives the Humans a more stable schedule for their delivery of money and sacrifices

Monstrous nations get a unique age ability. I haven't tried it before, so let's see how it works.

The first shipments arrived shortly afterwards, coming with a long note from the Humans. I couldn't read it, so I dismissed it and looked over what we had received. We could have earned lot more just by conquering and razing a single city on the Divenhal. This wouldn't sustain us. We needed to keep pushing against Cannor, or else find somewhere else to plunder.

What. Well, this is the development version so you can't expect everything to be perfect.

Construction has finished on four more ships to match the Salt-Tower. Yeena's let Mykx serve on one of them, not as a captain yet - she's too young, but as the chief navigator. Mykx has an incredible affinity for maps and charting course and seems at home on the water. She reminds me of Mother, but with a lot less cynicism.

Via has passed into Xhazob's hands, slain by a great beast he was hunting in the Desha mountains. The towering, tusked, creature was sacrificed in his honour at the ascension ceremony of Little Via. Or Viakkoc XIII, as he demanded we always refer to him. He doesn't like pet names, and he doesn't like the power his father's advisors wielded. We of the Kult were dismissed, and then Viakkoc set the nobility into a contest of strength for his favour. Many of the younger, stronger, noble Gnolls were aligned with Viakkoc and suddenly Via's closest allies were mostly dead or literally under someone's boots.

It's lucky then that Viakkoc is more interested is drinking and celebrating with his friends than actually exerting power beyond Kokerrat. The rest of the Corsair Kingdom is watching carefully to see if he will continue his malevolent power grab, oppress his fellow Gnolls any further, or settle into a more reasonable Gnollish rule.

Our pirates have continued their campaign against the Elven fleets heading westwards, and charted out much of the island chain that is currently being settled by both Elven and Human colonists. The land seems abandoned, empty, which means that it is ripe for exploitation. Some of the other Kult members have suggested that this is a demonic gift, a place for Gnolls to seize and use our innate strength to dominate the lesser races that attempt to settle there.

We have also been raiding southwards, and stole some maps showing what is happening south of the Salahadesi Desert. I don't know enough of the politics, beyond our Gnollish brethren on the south edge of the desert, to tell if anything notable is happening.

This is the western half of the Sarhal region added in the new update. As said in-character, I don't really know enough to tell if anything interesting has happened yet.

Viakkoc climbed out of his endless party to order an invasion of Ekha, which had withdrawn their tribute after the war against the Humans. The flow of gold and sacrifices would continue, but it left us back where we started, rather than advanced our power any further.

The last remnants of Deshak were also cleaned up. They had been forced to pay tribute to our allies, but had participated in the last war and thus lost that protection. Finally, all Humans from the western coast to the mouth of the Mother's Sorrow were under our heel. However, this was not anything more than consolidation. There were no movements from the Corsair King's court to expand the fleet, push any further into Cannor, or oppose Elizna for dominance of Kheterata.

Another concern was backsliding in our young institutions. The Kult ought to be the only organisation running sacrifices, but Viakkoc was happy to let small groups of Gnolls organise their own and undermine our authority.

Meanwhile, the Emperor organised another coalition against us. It was smaller in size, but facing the Emperor and his allies would still be devastating without Via at the head of our armies and real hellfury backing us. I could feel the lethargy in our army, the dull contentment to terrorize the populations within our borders, rather than try to achieve anything more. There are demons who feed off of that, like Myznr, so perhaps we've drawn their attention instead of that of wrath-masters like Kzryl.

This wouldn't be too bad to fight actually, except for the fact that I can't attack it without bringing in Wex as Emperor, and their much more dangerous ally Lorent.

The tension between the Kult, the Corsair King, the various nobles both for and against him, the fleet, and the slave population, threatens to boil over into outright civil war. I am not afraid. I have allies in the fleet, and a citadel to myself, but I worry for Mykx. If Viakkoc decides to purge the fleet, she could be in danger.

Rumours spread to Toref of piracy against Ekha, our tributary who are supposed to be rewarded by protection. Initially I was concerned, if the fleet had lost the ability to guard our own coasts. Then a ship sailed into the cavern harbour and started unloading stolen treasure and sacrifices from Ekha. Mykx bounded onshore and eagerly explained that some of the fleet was secretly taking tribute and turning it against Viakkoc. It struck me, that our fleet was fulfilling the directive of our demonic masters, where our supposed Corsair King had failed. Mykx had been promoted to captain of one of our carracks, and was one of Admiral Yeena's closest advisors.

The night after Mykx set sail again, I was beset by the strongest visitation that I'd ever felt. It was not Kentryn, but Xhazob himself, and he spoke of futures not yet born. An icy empress ruling over a vast reborn empire, a land beset by devouring plants, dark bloody creatures seizing control of an empire, a whole continent rended as spirits poured out of broken temples. And finally, the world's oceans ruled by a bloody queen sat in a monumental citadel at the centre of a circular sea. As I awoke and looked out over the rising sun from my room in the highest tower of my citadel, I wondered what to make of the visions.

The Isles of Tef were devastated by our conquest. It's taken most of my life for the population to accept their place and understand their duty to work for us. We have conscripted Dwarven engineers to produce our first proper cannons, designed for Gnollish use rather than stolen from Humans.

The news of the western lands is now spreading rapidly throughout Cannor. Vast fleets are being assembled, not just by the Elves but also Humans and even Dwarves. They seek the riches of the lost continent, while Viakkoc contents himself with the lands he holds. Yeena and Mykx intend to continue mapping out the trade routes, regardless of what he wants, and start reaving the treasure fleets.

Another raid into Busilar has been launched, despite the impending conflict. Our armies, thirsty for blood and competing for glory, obliterated the Busilari army and began to spread through the countryside in a wave of violence. Without an enemy to fight, Gnolls have been killing each other for the spoils almost as much as the local population, and I fear that when they return that will spread through the rest of the kingdom.

The Gnolls that we liberated from Busilar in the last war have joined us in our conquest. At least some of the Cannorian Gnolls understand their roots, unlike the 'Dovesworn' cowards who fled to the Empire. They have mostly avoided our forces, fearing that we will fall on them in mindless bloodshed as we have amongst ourselves. I offered a sacrifice to Kentryn in name of their success, perhaps they can push deeper into Human lands than we can without triggering the wrath of the Emperor.

We took our fill of wealth and sacrifices, seized control of a coastal fort and left the rest of the nation for our fellow Gnolls to ravage. Human control over Businor is slipping rapidly, especially if the Hill Gnolls are able to seize more of the land.

The latest western expedition returned with the most impressive stolen maps so far. The fastest vessel of the fleet had arrived and delivered a vast chart of a massive circular sea, as though an explosion had ripped open a hole in the land and scattered the remnants as islands.

Shortly after the ship returned, a squadron of galleys appeared and set up a blockade of the golden citadel. When I sent Kazz out to investigate, his head was returned by catapult. Viakkoc had finally come to deal with those who opposed him. In return, I dropped several of my staff slaves off the fortress walls, as an offering to Kentryn to raise a storm and strike down the fleets of the coward king.

The storm came, but not in the form of weather. Five carracks swung around the headland, unleashing furious cannon fire against the loyalist galleys. In return, the galleys used their significant oar power to turn and charge straight in. Rammed at full speed, one of the carracks tipped over and ran aground on the rocks, while the others were engaged in vicious boarding actions, Gnoll against Gnoll. I was left to watch and offer regular sacrifices to the victory of our fleet.

When the fighting had subsided, Viakkoc's forces, with half their number of galleys sunk, fled. I rushed down the docks to meet whoever was in command, but halfway down I felt a whisper at the back of my mind. Looking back towards the sea, I saw the four carracks turn back to the west. On the Salt-Tower, I saw the shape of Mykx perched atop the aft castle, one paw raised towards me. She was abandoning us, just as the civil war was starting, abandoning me?

No, no she wasn't.

This was what we had been preparing for all along, whether we knew it or not. A nation for pirates, by pirates, not a pale imitation created by the land-bound.

Whatever comes next in the Corsair Kingdom, that is for me and my allies to face. However, unless we can end the line of the Scourge-of-all-seas for good, they will surely despise Mykx and her crew until the end of the world. Living her best life, at the cost of being despised by countless Gnolls left behind.

Of course, who knows how many Gnolls will be inspired by her actions and follow her. If we do lose this civil war, we might still be able to follow her across the ocean and join her. Some may wish to join simply for the blood and plunder. Others might seek the wealth the demons have hidden for us amongst the ruins. Whatever the case, she will not lack for volunteers.

If something had happened to Yeena, whether in that last battle or during the last exploratory voyage, I am sure that Mykx will have risen the occasion and taken command. I can imagine her now, Admiral, commander of a fleet of Gnolls lost in a new land. She might even be the one I saw in my vision, queen of the oceans atop a throne of bones. Her grandmother would be proud, I am proud. A new chapter is dawning on the world, where Xhazob and his host will reach out and touch every corner of every ocean. I wish her luck, and demonic supremacy.

To be continued…

Note for readers on the ParadoxPlaza forums. As I don't yet have permission to make this AAR interactive, I won't be including any more links to the votes in this thread. However, the votes are still ongoing with voters from other sites I have cross-posted this to, and those results will affect the AAR.

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Five: Smother the Competition
1502-1511

The carrack Salt-Tower, approaching Ilzin Mykx, 1506

Bird calls filled the air, alongside the creak of wood and billowing of sails. Flock of gulls circled the flagship as it executed a turn around the spit of sand that marked the entrance to the harbour. Occasionally one bird was bold enough to dive in and try to find purchase on the outer hull, where it could peck and tear at the mass of salt-battered fur and flesh that had been strapped to the bow. The former mutineer was long-dead and would be taken down once the ship unloaded, but would remain until then as a demonstration to anyone present at port.

Atop the bow, Mykx eyed the gulls hungrily. Would it be cannibalism by proxy if she managed to catch one? Probably. But she was eager for fresh meat, after weeks at sea with only salted jerky and stale bread. In the busy sea lanes of the Divenhal she could have lived off of the flesh of her kills, but shipping was still sparse in the Ruined Sea. Their only success this time was raiding an explorer's camp on the coast of the mainland, with the inhabitants having fled inland and abandoned their treasures as the black flag of Mykx approached.

She looked away from the birds and at the glittering prize held between her claws. Of course, there was plenty of other plunder after stripping the camp bare, but this she had reserved for herself. A simple circular lens, with a frame of gold and silver interwoven like threads. When she looked through it, the image shifted back and forth in ways she couldn't quite grasp. She had seen magical spyglasses before, carried by Cannorian navigators, but something about this one was different.

"Forzzra is sated with our bounty, and has delivered us safely," Therkez said. The Kult priest sat on the anchor, propped up against the side of the deck. He was decked out in the captured finery of the noblemen explorers who had fled in the face of demonic piracy.

"Her belly must be tiny," Mykx said. She turned the lens on Therkez, and his image glowed green, with strange characters circling him. Even she couldn't read them, and so she gave up and pocketed it. "Once things really begin, I'm going to stuff her until she bursts."

"Demonic greed will grow as the seas under our power do so," Therkez said.

"So, what I said got to you," Mykx said.

"It is as you say, our brilliant admiral," Therkez said. He held out his arms and bowed his head in a display of supplication. "The oceans are greedy, envious, wrathful. Our patrons dwell in them as they do in all things, if not more."

"It was my mother's idea," Mykx said, turning back to look at their destination. "I'm going to take it one step further."

Ahead of them, the Grand Harbour of Ilzin Mykx glittered in the sunlight. Built onto a point where sandy beach began to transition into rocky headland, the harbour had grown from nothing to a bustling port unlike any that Mykx had visited in the past. The whole port was made out of wood, the inland jungles having been completely clear-cut. Dozens of docks jutted over the beach and far out into the water, where two of the other carracks were stationed along with several barques, while ramshackle ramps off the headland led to where the fleet of cogs were moored, packed tightly together. Gantry cranes were constantly disassembled and reassembled by slave crews, loading and unloading the docked vessels.

It was a testament to Gnollish determination that even when starting from nothing but the ships under their feet and the slaves in their holds, they had built something that worked. Sure, whenever Xhazob sent a storm their way many of the structures collapsed but they were built back stronger. Work was constant, and focused solely on devoting the island to piracy.

Just back from the bustling docks, several large wooden structures reached for the sky. When Admiral Yeena had been killed and the fleet set sail for the west, the four surviving captains had agreed that the next admiral would be elected from among them rather than by bloodline or by contest. Now they each presented their case for their election with the vast towers of plunder they had assembled for themselves. Gold trophies hung from wooden beams, gems glittered in piles just outside of the reach of thieving hands, and slave cells were put on open display to show off their greatest hauls.

The cells were empty by this point. Between sacrifices and overwork, most of the slaves that they had brought with them were dead, and there were very few sources in the empty unpopulated islands of the Ruined Sea. Rumour had it that would change soon enough, however, and Mykx intended to be ready.

The ship rocked as it cut through an especially large wave and a jolt of excitement shot through her.

"The Humans plough the land, the Dwarves dig into the earth, they say the Elves had cities that flew in the sky," she said, continuing her thoughts, "but none rule the ocean, until now. The seas belong to Xhazob, to his chosen, us, and most of all they belong to me. I will map every corner of this world, and make the landlubbers pay their tax of blood and treasure for daring to sail upon it."

Excerpts from the journal of Mykx, Chief Admiral of the Republic of Mykx

We have arrived, after months at sea, battered and beaten by all the tests that Xhazob can throw at us. These islands are empty, but rich in wood and metal, perfect to found a haven. After landfall in a natural harbour on 'Ilzin Mykx', I immediately set out Captain Ygzaath with our three most sturdy ships to begin charting out the region. Much as I write in this journal by my own hand, I will see to it that the winds and waves of this sea are known to us, and not second-hand from a collection of pompous Elves.

While the slaves are at work, I have coordinated with the other captains to make my election as Chief Admiral official. Our nation is lost in the ocean, and like a captain is absolute tyrant of their vessel, I am the tyrant of the nation. Power lies in my hands and the hands of my successors, but we are all at the mercy of Xhazob and the other demons who lurk in the ocean deeps. We vowed together to never consort with landlubbers and carve our names into their nightmares.

The other captains are not the only ones I should be wary of. The mass of sailors underneath us could tear us apart if they worked together, and the smugglers who are more interested in trading illicit goods than honest plundering could, one day, wield vast wealth. Squashing them would be satisfying, but I could also use them to keep the captains from getting too many ideas.

Pirate republics use faction mechanics. We will see one more faction added to this balance soon. The original plan for Mykx was to add Colonialists and Drug Barons as separate factions too, but it seems like that was dropped at some point.

There is a long path ahead of us, to turn this collection of ships and wooden shacks into a true nation The first step, as with any plan is to draw up a map and decide where to set your heading.

The early days were spent drawing up the official code of laws for my captains to follow. The articles of punishment were appropriately brutal, to ensure the tightest discipline among the crews. Lashings for minor disobedience or mistakes, keelhauling or bowstrapping for mutiny, cowardice, or thievery from the captain's stash. Gnolls understand violence best of all, and the whole crew will see the results of their failure carved into their flesh.

As per Harsh Captaincy, we take the most brutal option. The entire right-hand line of the mission tree has us spend Republican Tradition and Government Reform to build up a picture of our legal code.

On the other hand, those who showed their courage and viciousness would be rewarded. Losing a limb or eye in battle will mean a greater share of the treasure, and whether they want to spend that on a peg-leg and eyepatch or retire to a role on shore is their decision. A carrot-and-stick approach, I think Scribe called it. My lash at their back, and gold awaiting them ahead.

In the one concession to Communal Responsibility, the crew will come together to pay compensation to those injured in the line of duty.

Some of our plunder has been very interesting. Strong green-skinned slaves have been captured along with their Human and Elven masters. They claim to have once been mighty warriors, but seeing them defeated and enslaved by such weaklings makes me doubt that. Still, they make good labourers and it is fun to watch them take out their frustrations on their former owners in the slave cells.

Lore-wise, the majority of orc slaves come from Escann as the remnants of the Greentide are cleaned out by the emerging adventurer nations. There might be something to say about this based on what I've seen emerging from the TI in Cannor, but we'll come back to that when we get to a State of the World update.

Ilzin Mykx has proven to be to a perfect haven for our ships, as we have repaired most of the damage of the long ocean crossing and stand ready to send our fleets out to ravage the seas around us. We need more. More ships, more docks. This island sits at the centre of the sea, and I want it to sit at the centre of the world.

The other captains all look up to me after I took charge in the battle against Viakkoc. As they should. I have great plans and my only fear is that Xhazob takes my soul before I have done half of what I want to do. As we wait in harbour for opportunity to present itself, I have been teaching them how to read maps and navigate these strange waters. I am half tempted to set up some kind of school for it as well, so it isn't just reliant on word-of-mouth.

We start with the first three ideas of Exploration already unlocked, and hence our first national idea.

More Gnolls arrived recently, their boats falling apart underneath them without someone like me at the head of their escape. Viakkoc XIII won the civil war, with most of his enemies escaping into exile in the hills above Busilar. He has vowed to pursue them, even if it means slaughtering even more of his fellow Gnolls. I know that if I had stayed we would have won, or at least been able to forge a new nation based out of Toref, but that would have trapped us between the angry Humans and an angry monster of a king. Starting here, with fresh blood to spill, was the right decision, and those we left behind were the sacrifice that saw to our success.

A blood-red comet lit up the night's sky, sending many of the more superstitious types cowering in fear. I stood atop my ship and stared it down until it passed the horizon. If Xhazob's whims are that I be struck down, I will face him, not cower below decks. The day after it passed, we received word that Captain Ygzaath had died mysteriously after returning from shore in the mostly uninhabited lands to the south. Her sister Zheh has taken command of the exploration efforts, but it makes me wonder just what had happened on shore.

Many Gnolls are eager to start settling the other islands around us, and I agree to it despite it costing us sailors for the fleet and slaves for the construction works on Ilzin Mykx. Plunder is still very thin on the ground in these waters, so securing the islands and some of the strange crops that the Handchewer sisters have discovered, as well as the relic-laden ruins that hide within the jungles, will give us another source of income to fall back on.

Our explorers have seen increasing traffic around the Ruined Isles. Humans and, to my surprise, Dwarves, have settled islands nearby. For the first time since we arrived, the Scourge Fleet will be prepared for war. These islands are ours, their treasure are ours, and those settlers are ours as well.

Gnolls are a violent lot, with constant bickering for pride and position. At sea the crew needs to be united in purpose, or we will be swallowed up by the waves. So, I have written in the legal code that Gnolls may settle their quarrels on the shore and never at sea, punished by the lash or death, depending on whether it was just a brawl or a murder. This will lead to more dead, but it will also winnow out the weak, so I have no issue leaving a few crew members rotting on the beaches.

I took 'duels only on land' as the Harsh option, with the idea being the Captain is saying 'take it off my ship'.

The grand harbour has been completed. Or, the basis for it has been, anyway. The natural harbour has been turned into a base that rivals the Human and Copper Dwarf dockyards back across the ocean, no matter how rickety it looks. Already stones and bricks are being laid to replace rotting wood, and I can foresee the entire island being given over to support the Scourge Fleet as it grows ever larger.

'Trading Company' they say, but they have arrived in greater force than we have. They are settling the islands of The Bend, to our west and all the soldiers in the world haven't stopped my reavers from seizing their shipping as they cross the seas that I rule. We can starve them out, and strike when they are weaker.

The dwarves are stout, but fewer in number. I have decided that this is where we will strike first. As they lie to the east, it will be easier for them to receive reinforcements and the longer we wait the deeper they will dig into the earth. Even when raiding them, we found ourselves unable to plunder more than the outer docks as anything deeper was heavily fortified.

Walking through the haphazard walkways of Ilzin Mykx, I could hear the crews in good spirits, drinking and singing shanties. I am not so high-and-mighty that I would decline to join in, and we celebrated our impending victory long into the night with wine and blood flowing freely over the wooden structures and into the bay. An enjoyable sacrifice to earn dark fortune.

Of course, I still had to work through my hangover, sorting out contract requests from across our growing lands. After getting a headache working through the legalese regarding prisoner labour rights, I gave up and rubber-stamped indefinite transfer of ownership from the prisons to the colonies. We can always use more slaves.

The colonialists get their labour force as per the vote. I want to say that while most of these choices don't have a 'right' answer, in this case this is absolutely the correct choice. The other two modifiers are so weak as to be meaningless.

Our first election took place as the Scourge Fleet readied to sail against Asraport, it being the first time in a while that all the captains were present. The mass of Gnolls filled the docks, the tottering wooden buildings above them, and the beach. I stood at the stern of the Salt-Tower and called out for a vote by voice. The assembled crowd roared my name. The other candidates, the captains of the other carracks, called out the same and were only met with a quiet chorus of cheers. But there were cheers. Their influence is growing. I can't ravage the coasts and keep a personal eye on them at the same time, so I need to make sure my loyalists are positioned everywhere before the captains get any ideas.

We drove the dwarves into their ports without any trouble. These were not the famed Copper Dwarves of Ovdal Tûngr, but Silver Dwarves from the Empire who hadn't set foot on a boat until a few years ago. One of their ships was seized and the crew flayed and sacrificed to the sea one at a time until they revealed the secrets of the Dwarven defences. Their reward for cooperation was mere slavery, instead of death.

Having been led to a secret landing spot, we unloaded in peace and seized the colony under construction, before attacking Traveller's Rest from the land. Caught by surprise, the Dwarves broke in short order and most of their number were captured alive before they could flee into their fortifications.

During the battle some of our more vicious warriors made a name for themselves by flaying the enemy in the midst of the battle and wearing their parts and entrails as decoration as they charged into the next row of enemies. It's a bit too much for me, but I can appreciate the effort and enjoyed the look on the defender's faces as waves of our warriors charged them while clad in the skin of their freshly-slain comrades.

With the conquest of these islands, we have control of the Calamity Pass, one of the main shipping lanes around the island of Endralliande, and an excellent position to dominant the eastern half of the Ruined Sea. And, most importantly, one of our potential rivals for this sea has been devoured in the litter.

Asraport burned, and every last dwarf on the island was taken as a slave. While the flayers were eager to offer them up as sacrifices to Xhazob, I felt that more hands were needed across our territory. The constructions the dwarves had assembled even in their short time in the Ruined Sea were impressive, and I wanted them to apply that knowledge to Ilzin Mykx.

As per the vote, the dwarves go to the mines. All options give us that modifier to construction, so there isn't really a bad choice here.

Finally, the Cannorians have arrived in force. Multiple settlements have appeared in the region they call Trollsbay, and shipping is increasing across my seas. Once we have finished securing the islands and preventing any more claims from the lawful landlubbers, they will learn the price of living on this side of the ocean.

One of our vessels carrying slaves and plunder from Asraport was raided by one of the other captains. The Xhazob-damned traitor took slaves and gold that were rightfully mine, and departed to establish their own petty pirate kingdom somewhere on the island to the south of Asraport. If I had a moment I would hunt them down personally, but I have a war to mount against the Cannorian thieves who have settled in the western islands. I have sacrificed a dozen slaves and asked Kzryl to deliver wrath unto them, until I can do so myself.

Each captain can take as much of the plunder as they would like, and deal with any crew members who might complain, as they would like. In the same way, as Chief Admiral I have the ultimate right to anything seized by a ship flying my flag. I need to come up with a way to ensure that I am not stolen from by my own people any more.

As per Harsh Captaincy, the captain gets whatever they want.

The Humans were numerous, but not able to stand up against the savagery of our warriors. Pouring forth from our ships, we overran the defences in the largest settlement and forced them to hide on one of their underdeveloped islands. There, without any farms or livestock, they eventually weakened enough that we could take them on directly and capture them all.

Anything and everything was torn from them and sent out to our growing settlements, including the people themselves. The more hands that are doing the dull work of tilling the soil, the more Gnolls I can bring into the fleet. With the land freed from its exploiters, Gnollish colonists have moved onto the islands and begun preparing facilities for the Scourge Fleet to project across the western Ruined Sea.

As per the vote, the humans go to the fields. Unlike the dwarves we don't get a special bonus.

As we returned from The Bend, we seized a ship of Humans that were attempting to pass right under the nose of my fleets. They fought to the death rather than be enslaved, a futile gesture but more courageous than the average cowardly Human. Those we did many to capture eventually broke under our lashes and revealed that an adventurer from Bulwar was planning to settle near Trollsbay. With this information, we were able to get the jump on his fleet and use their resources to establish a base on the largest island in the chain, while he was forced to land on the smaller islands to the south. Soon, his impudence will be his death.

Weird little bug here. I had started a colony on the large island, but it instantly finished. I think there must be a weird interaction with the event that spawns Saamirses.

His arrival is just one of many, and we cannot hope to eradicate all of our competitors. The Trollsbay settlers are divided but incredibly numerous, a collection of adventurers from Lencenor have overrun the Elven colonial efforts, and national colonial projects are starting to be established. Our early steps have earned us a head start, but the others are racing to catch up. I look forward to the challenge.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Six: New World Kult
1511-1522

Graxxar Temple inner chambers, 1513

Solid, flawless white stone sealed the entrance to the chamber, which had sat untouched for over a thousand years. No plant dared grow against it, no animal dared approach. Silence had reigned inside the chamber for so long, that when the first thud resounded through it, the air itself trembled. One, and then another, and another thud came from the door until a steady rhythm of impacts shook the structure.

Then, suddenly, change. The surface of the door cracked, split and the metal of a pickaxe head breached the surface. From behind it came shouts, followed by hoots and whoops. The thudding redoubled, and soon the door was crumbling from dozens of pickaxes breaching it. As the last of the stone hit the floor, cautious footsteps entered the room. Angry orders barked from beyond the threshold, and the group began to speed up.

A team of Dwarves spread out across the room, acting as living trap-detectors as they tested the floor and walls of the chamber. There hadn't been any such traps in this complex, but they had been encountered occasionally in other, smaller ruins. The Dwarves weren't collared, for there wasn't really anywhere to run. The island would soon be swarming with Gnolls.

The chamber itself was a massive ring, with stepped terraces around the edge all facing a large circular open space in the centre. Despite the roof of the chamber being opened to the sky, there was no sign of the white stone floor or gold etchings that covered the pillars around it being weather-worn at all.

Once the chamber was secure, the Gnollish slavedrivers entered and began corralling up their charges. There were more doors to breach, and more rooms to search. This chamber was to be left for the leadership.

"It's so pure!" Dhy cackled as she bounded inside, her long priestly robes trailing behind her, and stood at the edge of the central circle. "Hydyn will be pleased. Let's start defiling it now."

Therkez was more interesting in the gold that had been sunken into the walls and pillars. He ran claws across the stone, sending a screech through the room that stiffened everyone's fur, and pulled away without a flake of gold having been torn off.

"We should work out how to strip out the treasure first," he said. The room by itself was more likely valuable than several treasure ships, and probably hundreds of times more than the stolen jewellery that adorned him.

"Not yet," Mykx said.

She strode past the both of them and stood in the centre of the chamber, peering up through the open ceiling at the cloudy sky. A few drops of rain fell, but splattered against a clear, intangible dome that hung above the roof a hundred feet up. Mykx took a knife from her belt and flung it at the ceiling. It passed straight through at the peak of its flight, then came back down and clattered against the top of the dome.

"Ah," Dhy said with a gasp, "the Elven gods think to guard this place."

"I know what you're thinking," Mykx said, pointing a second knife at Dhy, "but I'm not going to let you tear our whatever magic they left behind. I have a better idea, isn't that right?"

She was addressing the third priest that had joined her in the expedition. Rri hobbled forward on his staff, passed by Dhy who was giving him a sharp stare and clenching her claws, and approached Mykx. He was a young Gnoll, his body twisted by some infernal blessing that had only made him more vicious and cunning. His staff, just as gnarled as he was, was topped by a jagged blade that had torn out the heart of many a cocky challenger.

"Hmm," he said.

He tapped his staff twice against the polished stone under his feet, and a burst of green fire engulfed him for a moment. He patted down wherever his fur had caught alight and watched the embers of the fire ascend up and past the barrier, where they were snuffed out by the rain.

"What better way to desecrate this place than to make it the greatest temple to Xhazob in the world," he said. He pointed his staff at Dhy, who growled and backed off onto the terraces.

"We will bring our hoards here, rather than take this gold for our hoards," he said, pointing at Therkez. The gold-covered priest snorted and returned to evaluating the room's ornaments.

"And you," he said, turning to Mykx, "are going to win us the slaves that we will burn here."

"Those are my slaves first," Mykx said. She squared up against Rri, tall and straight compared to his short and crooked. "Xhazob will get his share only after I have taken for the fleet and the fields."

"He will not be waiting forever. The settlers are already building further inland. Your petty coastal raids are missing out on ever more blood with each yar." Rri said. He smacked his staff against the floor once, but before he could do it again Mykx grabbed it, digging her claws into the wood.

"Do not speak for the demons, or question my plans" she growled, "know your place. The Scourge Fleet is supreme on my seas. The Kult is only a conduit for demonic power."

"Is the power going to your head, Admiral?" Rri asked. His arm flexed, moving with more power than it ought to, and the staff tipped forward until the edge of the blade rested against her collar. "Didn't you say the demons of the ocean ought to be respected? Our advice is all that is keeping you from a watery grave."

She bared her teeth in a grin, and the pair of them stood there for a moment, their bodies and wills equally matched. The other two priests watched on, ready for a sudden upending in the hierarchy of the republic.

Mykx twisted her head, the blade scraping away fur and skin on her neck and undersnout until she was able to catch it in her teeth and yank it from its bindings. She spat blood and blade onto the floor and kicked Rri away from her. He stumbled back, but caught himself on his staff without much trouble.

"I'll take it into consideration, priest," she said. She raised her paws to the room around them. "Now, how big a pyre do you think will fit in there?"

Excerpts from the journal of Mykx, Chief Admiral of the Republic of Mykx

Very rarely do you find non-Gnolls who are willing to stand up to us from their cages. They almost always fall to their master's whip, even if they have a good point. Occasionally though, they show enough will that they earn some of our respect, and a higher position amongst the slaves. Szura was a merchant's wife taken when we raided Saamir's fleets before they could land, but despite her soft upbringing she has flourished under Xhazob's eye and clawed her way up to a position of treasurer amongst one of our smuggler crews. I have authorised the captain to use her as a proxy to trade some of the cash crops our slaves are producing with the Cannorians. I will not complain about a little more money.

Not least because expanding so many colonies at once is expensive work. Gnolls are not used to building, and whenever they make a mistake that throwing more slaves at can't fix, my treasury has to bail them out.

War remains the easiest task. The warriors live and die at my command, and would follow me to the depths of the ocean if I willed it. My rival captains can only flee, and dare not challenge me directly.

A different rising challenge is the Xhazobkult. As my population grows and more immigrants arrive fleeing the persecution of Viakkoc the infrastructure of the Kult grows with them. I have sent Therkez to represent my interests among the Kult, and he has informed me of several promising priests capable of wielding demonic power, who are now in the middle of sorting out a hierarchy amongst themselves. I ought to take more of an interest, lest they unite and form a bloc of their own.

With connections to the Cannorian smugglers, we have managed to begin securing a proper supply of Orcish slaves. For the most part they are sent to our plantations and mines, but I cannot help but divert a few for sacrificial purposes. They have so much meat on them, so much to offer up.

This is a regular event now that we have signed up to the Orc slave trade. Over time, our provinces will fill up with Orcs. We are more than capable of handling a few extra slaves, but the other partaking colonies might see some consequences from this.

Zheh has mapped out the channels leading to the west, and confirmed that there is nothing but ocean beyond. Securing the will be another high priority. If we can hold the entirety of the passageway from east to west, no trade will be able to pass us by without the extraction of a bloody toll.

Our colonists on Graxxar have found an impressive ancient structure untouched by nature, paw, or demon. They have returned with offerings of trinkets, and I immediately sold them on to smugglers hungry to feed the Cannorian thirst for such things. Word of this structure is spreading quickly, and the Kult is insisting that I fund a deeper exploration. My own curiosity is driving me to agree. Everything else we, not to mention the desperate Human and Elven explorers, have encountered has been a ruin, but this is something completely different. Perhaps it was left untouched as a gift for us, by whichever of our patrons struck down the Precusors.

The character of my islands is shifting as settlers pour in. Plantations are spreading across the islands, producing cash crops much desired by the Cannorians. It is amusing to see them traded by our Human proxies, then immediately plundered and put them up for sale again, but I foresee friction between the Scourge Fleet and the Colonialists over it. Whole towns are springing up filled with Gnolls who've never tasted the blood of an enemy on the battlefield. My pressgangs are working hard to bring them into an honest life. Leave the dull landlubber work for the slaves, our true calling is on the sea.

As the volume of traffic increases along the northern rim of the Ruined Sea, I have scoured the charts to locate safe havens for our privateers in between each raid. Each new raid sees more damage to our vessels and more injured and dead sailors as the enemy try to match our might. If the Humans have had the misfortune of settling those islands before us, then I'm sure they continue to work on them, just with a collar around their necks.

Such a fate has already befallen Saamir's foolish anti-slavery expedition. I gave specific orders that he be captured alive, and while he bit off his own tongue in an effort to die free, a little dose of hellfire from that wretched priest, Rri, cauterized the wound and ensured he would forever regret that act of defiance. The rest of his people, those who survived the sack of his meagre settlement, were put to work in the fields.

Our team of Dwarves was able to breach the inner sanctum of the structure, a vast chamber opened to the air and yet shielded from the rain by some magic. After a pleasant conversation with the most prominent members of the Kult, I decided that we had not offered Xhazob and his kin appropriate recompense for all the fertile hunting grounds they have provided for us. The structure will become the centrepiece of the Kult in Aelantir, a fearsome pyre forever burning at the very centre of the crater carved out by demonic wrath.

The Kult continues to expand outside of the temple as well, integrating the cults that have sprung up among the crews and the masters. My fellow captains have the same concerns that I do, and we are walking a careful balance to continue to assert our authority without raising the wrath of the common sailor drunk on blood and faith.

Strict and harsh discipline is the key. They need to fear their captains as they do the ocean or the demons. We will mould them into the perfect sailors, cooperative and professional while at sea, bloodthirsty and vicious when they set foot on the land. Our ships will be the safe haven from the excesses of the Kult.

At this point we are almost guaranteed 100% Naval Tradition at all times. Once Naval ideas start adding pips, our admirals are going to be monsters.

The newest arrivals tell of the growing power of Gnollakaz. Neither the Elves occupying the feline heartland, nor the band of religious zealots and perverts pushing westwards have been able to defeat them, and Gnollish hordes have spread as far south as the southern coast. Excellent work on their part, perhaps in future they can be the army to our fleet.

With work completed on Graxxar, the Kult has become an entrenched part of my nation. At the very least, their leadership are all in one place if I need to oppose them. It would be a shame to raze the temple though, as it is a marvel of Gnollish might. We have torn down the doors that relied on magic to be opened, desecrated Elven murals and inscriptions and filled the corridors with conquered treasures and the vile scriptures of our patrons.

The Xhazobkult is the fourth faction that we will have to balance. More on them later.

The fleet is also growing in strength, as we have finished rebuilding the dockyards on the islands that we conquered. Staffed with the slaves who once freely worked them, the reach of our ships grows ever further.

Deep inland to the north, the Elves have discovered a long-lost chamber that supposedly leads to other worlds. It is too far for any hope of conquest, but it does make me wonder. Can we sail between worlds as we sail on the ocean? Does Xhazob lurk in the shadows between the stars? I will not live to see it, but perhaps one day my descendants will shed blood beyond the borders of the world.

Finally, the code of laws is completed, for the time being. With so many new regulations, it was necessary to assign political officers on each vessel to ensure compliance from the captains. Keeping them well-paid enough to avoid bribery costs a tenth of the naval budget by itself, but having eyes on each vessel to keep an eye on both my rival captains and the growing power of the Kult is invaluable.

More colonists continue to arrive, drawn in by the promise of land, abundant slaves, and easy plunder. They bring with them wealth that they secreted away from the tyrants of the east, and an enthusiasm that keeps them going without too much required oversight. The islands will soon be firmly under Gnollish ownership.

One of the other captains is flouting my laws, plundering vessels under our protection rackets, hitting smugglers allied with us, and even stealing treasure from other members of the fleet. I will allow it in this case, as he is very effective and serves as an excellent reminder of just how vicious we can get if they try to directly oppose us.

It certainly hasn't interrupted our profits. As the Trollsbay settlers get comfortable, the volume of trade increases and our take along with it. Of course, that means the volume of pirate hunters also increases but the Scourge Fleet remains unmatched and more than capable of blasting them to splinters.

To ensure we stay unmatched into perpetuity, we need more docks, more shipyards, more harbours. The price of that endeavour will be great, but here are plenty of slaves and gold to be found to fund the effort.

The finishing touches to Graxxar Temple have been completed. A pyre, ever burning, shielded from the rain and elements by the Precursor's own magic while completing the final desecration of the structure. The Kult is eager to begin the ignition ceremony, after which a steady stream of fuel and sacrifices will see the demonic horde fed for all eternity. I will be participating, of course. To not show my face would be admitting I was afraid of the Kult.

Being able to sacrifice whenever we want also means that we no longer need to risk losing development when we run the edict to build a pyre.

Morning was not a pleasant experience. I awoke in a pile of bodies, some alive and some not, with my head pounding from a combination blood and rum hangover. It had been a night of revelry in front of the pyre, one that I would repeat again if I got the chance, but the comedown is always the worst part. The pyre was still burning when I woke up, though not as brightly as it had been at night, and I found Rri standing in front of it. Dozens of Gnolls were prostrated at his feet, their bodies warped and mutilated in the same way his was by the demonic power that had flowed through us that night. I could see the smug look on his face. He thinks he's won, but I am still the Chief Admiral, and I still have the Scourge Fleet at my back.

Getting the Kult in power gives us a few bonuses. Sadly, the missionary bonuses aren't very useful without Religious ideas because the Xhazobkult has a very hard time converting non-Gnolls (for obvious reasons) but at least the Religious Unity makes up for that.

Later, he offered to put additional priests on our vessels in order to infuse our cannons with the flames of the pits. I declined. If we ever truly need such a power, I will call upon Xhazob and Kzryl myself.

I'm not sure exactly how this gets activated, but I'm sure that events or the mission tree will help as we progress. As it says, it should only be used in dire circumstances considering how expensive in Demonic Power it is.

Instead, I ordered them to call upon the Invocation of Gold so that our privateers would be able to use the demonic sense of greed to discover which vessels held the greatest hauls of wealth. Getting the funds to build up the Scourge Fleet even further was my top priority.

Despite the Kult's machinations, the sailors, the colonists, the smuggling traders, they are all happy with the direction of the nation. Wealth is flowing, land is being tamed by hordes of slaves, and the fleet have even gotten used to having my observers on board. By my absolute will, the republic has been forged into something great, and as long as I live, I will not let it be consumed by mindless zealotry.

We have reaved a path across Noruin, from the Bloodgroves to Trollsbay. The resistance is getting steeper with each passing year, and I have had a close call more than once as I participate in the raiding parties. Once more we are planning to strike at the settlements on Trollsbay. Supposedly they have received shipments of new cannons from Cannor, and I would love to have those mounted on my flagship.

First though, I need to charge into those same cannons myself, and the quiet whispers at the back of my mind give me some pause. The Kult does not have a monopoly on access to Xhazob. I will sacrifice a slave in the morning and wear their blood as protection. Even if that is not enough, I know the republic will endure.

Excerpts from the sermon of Rri 'the twisted', Priest of Kentryn, made at the funeral of Chief Admiral Mykx

Mykx was blessed with pride, was a wielder of wrath, and held a greater greed for wealth and lust for power than any Gnoll since we crawled from the Pits. We are here, in this sea granted to us by Xhazob thanks to her works. Her mother was a priestess, who taught her great respect for the demonic host and the Kult. Her treasure built the great inextinguishable pyre that stands before you! I call upon our slavedrivers to have a grand pyre ship built so that she may joined Xhazob through the ocean, which she loved and respected in equal measure.

Keeping a good record of two updates per narrator. They sure die quickly, but that is a Gnoll's lot in life.

But her great work cannot be allowed to halt here! We have established near unopposed control over these islands and these seas, but the land to the north is steadily filling with weak and soft settlers who think themselves safe just because they settled away from the coast. I call upon the crowd, make me Chief Admiral and I will strike at them directly. Our flayers will ravage Noruin, raze it to the ground, and return all the survivors to the Everpyre to feed the endless hunger of Xhazob and his host!

There will be those who think us mad. The Captains hoard their loot, the Smugglers consort with heathens to siphon away our funds, the Colonialists waste money building homes rather than tearing them down. Their enthusiasm may wain, but the nightmare that Mykx intended to visit upon the pitiful creatures of Aelantir will persist, no matter how many challengers might rise from within and without. All will feel the steel of the Demonic Republic of Mykx!

It is a coincidence that the economic buffs we got at the start expired at the same time Mykx did, but narratively appropriate.

To be continued…

Vote

The Captains are not happy that the Kult has taken power. They are debating amongst themselves whether a coup is in order, and whether allowing the rabble to have a vote in selecting the Chief Admiral was the correct idea at all. Surely for Gnolls the mightiest commander should be the one to take power; winning the title through blood and struggle rather than words and manipulation. On the other hand, if Rri is successful then great wealth and power awaits. They could give him a chance to rebuild the economy with the blood and gold of the Cannorian settlers, improve his skills in leadership, and demonstrate his triumphs at the next election. What is their decision?

(In game terms, this is referring to the next government reform tier. That same tier includes War Against the World, but it is explicitly disabled for Gnolls so is not an option, and I have modded the mod to remove one other option from that tier for reasons I will get into when they are relevant.)

Pirate Queen – Rulers are selected from recruited admirals, with stats based on the admiral's skill. They rule for life and do not require re-election, but are stuck with the stats they start with. The Captains gain another boost in influence in the government.
Elected Admiral – Rulers are selected from the four factions. They start with low stats but can build them up over the course of their reign. (aka Status Quo)

Vote below by clicking on the image.


Voting will last 48 hours.

 

[Sybot]

And is that a hint of a possible multiversal (or even Stellaris) sequel that I see?

No plans at the moment, it was just riffing on the event that popped up, but it would be pretty fun.

Chapter Seven: Knives In and Knives Out
1522-1536

A caravel, somewhere in Trollsbay, 1522

Wood creaked and metal clanked, deafening in the otherwise silent room where the conspirators gathered. At any other time, these three would be at one another's throats, and at any moment they very well might be. If that happened, the six handpicked guards, two from each of them, would join in the fray and the cabin interior would be bathed in blood. They had all been waiting for their moment, for Mykx to make a mistake and leave her position vacant, at which point the knives could be revealed and the victor ascend the throne of bones.

But that had all been undercut by an overambitious priest who had filled the pliant voters with demonic fervour and had them carry him to the top.

Izz 'the Defiler', admiral of the Fleet of Ruin, the core privateer force that Mykx assembled, was the first to speak. She lifted an accusing claw at one of the other captains, her collection of ears, fingers and deliberately broken golden trinkets dangling from her arm.

"You have the cannons," she said, "sail for Graxxar, level the fort and raze that temple to the ground. We should never have left an Elf-temple standing."

Opposite her, Szonith 'the Dead', admiral of the Scourge Fleet, the main battlefleet of the republic, replied with an empty stare. Both her good eye, as black as a pit, and the vacant eye socket on the other side of her face, scarred by fire to the point that it looked skeletal, looked upon Izz with disdain.

"There will be a mutiny," Szonith said, "if Xhazob doesn't strike us down himself."

"Let them try," Izz hissed, "let him try too. I've cursed his name more than called upon it, and I still live. Are you scared you'll get burned again?"

"My fear was stripped away along with my flesh," Szonith said, as she leaned forward onto the table separating them, "but my sense was not. The republic will be torn apart."

Izz was about to snap back, when an armour-plated fist smashed onto the table, causing the wood to let out a loud crack as though it was on the verge of shattering.

The third member of their group, Uho 'the Punisher', admiral of the Raiders of Noruin, was covered in trinkets as well, but unlike Izz who was adorned with pieces torn from her victims and torn from their treasure hoards, Uho wore a collection of Precursor artefacts including glowing magical items of unknown provenance and ancient armour that had been beaten and warped to fit the Gnollish frame.

"It'll be torn apart either way," Uho said, "Rri will feed every piece of gold and flesh into the bottomless demonic gullet, and we will stagnate and get overtaken by the Cannorians."

"Why do you care?" Izz spat, "go back to hunting Elf-treasure."

"She has a point," Szonith said, "we cannot allow him to rule unopposed, but attacking now at the height of his popularity will have the same effect in the end."

"We need a plan," Uho said, "if we make it appear we are too busy positioning against each other to oppose him, we can drag resources away from the Kult and into the Fleet in the name of our conflict."

Izz cackled, "I'm not giving you ladies an inch, if that's what you're hoping."

"Naturally," Szonith cut in, "that will make it more believable."

"When his support wanes, we draw our knives, strike him down, and ascend," Uho said. She reached up and pulled a couple of small stone orbs from a bandolier she had strapped over her shoulder.

The other two eyed the stones carefully as she set them down on the table. As the ship rocked, they rolled across the uneven surface and each approached their owner, as though guided there. Izz didn't respond, instead glaring at it as if expecting it to be trapped, but Szonith picked hers up and held it up to her one good eye. As she stared, a series of scratchy letters appeared on the surface. For a moment, she imagined that being the signal for it to detonate and blind her completely, but that drew out no terror. In a noisy, blood-scented battlefield, one did not need eyes to fight.

"What is this?" Izz asked.

Uho was holding a stone up, carefully scratching letters onto the surface with her claws.

"We can communicate without needing pigeons or couriers," she said. And, it went unsaid, without Rri knowing. They could coordinate their fake, or perhaps not so fake, conflict in secret.

Izz snatched hers up and found an empty pouch on her crowded assembly of liberated body parts to store it.

"So long as there's no chitchat," she said, "if either of you tries to get friendly, I'll reply with my friendliest assassin."

"Is it agreed?" Szonith asked, "we will strike when the opportunity is right?"

Uho nodded, and Izz followed after an overly long pause, though it was clear she was only going along because she was outvoted. The three Gnolls stood and stared each other down, before slowly filing out of the cabin. No doubt all three of them were planning to backstab the others the moment the priest was out of the way. There would be blood on the path to the throne, but only the demons knew whose bloody fingers would grip the crown.

Excerpts from the journal of Szonith 'the Dead', Captain of the Carrack Thunderer, Admiral of the Scourge Fleet

Our pact has been made, as loose and spiteful as it may be. Between us we can rule the waters of the Ruined Sea, while Rri hides on land despite claiming the title of 'Chief Admiral'. I know that he denounced us in his grand speech at Mykx's funeral, and he is right, we are siphoning off the funds that we previously freely offered to her. He is no Mykx, and does not have our respect. Undermining his income is just the first step to bringing him down without needing to slaughter an army of zealots first.

The priest is busy consolidating the republic, revoking the autonomy of the outlying islands and incorporating the local priesthoods into the Kult. The wealth of the islands is outside of the Fleet's ability to intercept, unless we start actively raiding our own people. He is making his own moves, reducing his reliance on us.

For the first time, we have been called upon to attack the mainland in force for more sacrifices. The settlers have learned to hide their treasures and their people away from the coast, but their wealth still relies on shipping goods out of the bay. I will take this chance to seize the islands of the bay, giving us a way to establish an official toll for the traders of the region.

Kult priests arrived recently to curse our cannons with burning hellfire. I threw them back onto their boats and sent them home. It is a simple point of pride even if we were not at odds with them. The Scourge Fleet is the greatest force in Aelantir, and I refuse to owe Xhazob any favours.

While I am covering the invasion of the Seven Stone Trolls, Izz has had a chance to score her own victories. She captured two more carracks from the settler fleets and added them to her fleet, with their new status inaugurated with the blood of their former crews. If we come to blows, I am not certain I can stand against her. My own preparations must be accelerated.

The flayers that have made it ashore to the mainland have reported a strange state of affairs. The settlements have already been pillaged and splattered with blood, and the only survivors are some sort of demonic thrall who fight with as much mindless fury as a Gnoll in the heat of battle. Strange, Human-like, figures appear to be directing them from a distance but disappear into a cloud of vermin before we can capture them.

I don't know why vampires are here. This isn't a colonial nation of Corvuria or another nation with vampires that I'm aware of.

We have set up a port on the western end of the large island of Endralliande, taking one of the natural harbours for ourselves rather than letting it fall into the hands of the settlers coming westwards. Nearby, another group that fancy themselves reavers have settled, and there have been frequent insults traded by raiding parties going in both directions. I think the local garrison might just enjoy the sport.

Between Izz and myself, the fleets of Trollsbay have been devastated, their coastal towns have been stripped bare, and shipments of slaves from the inland settlements are departing to Ilzin Mykx and Graxxar, after we have taken a cut for ourselves. The masses are being made aware that it is the Fleet, not the Kult, that does the real work, and the pendulum is starting to swing in our direction again.

The next election has come around far too quickly. We are still fighting in Trollsbay, leaving Rri and the Kult free to do whatever it takes to secure votes. It is no matter; the Fleet will come out of this war stronger than ever. We will get another opportunity.

Izz moves quickly. Her forces have seized Isobelin Island, a heavily fortified rock overlooking the harbour used by the mainland settlers. My agents are already among her crew, but open warfare is not on the cards until Rri is dealt with.

In any case, she is dealing with trouble among the new slave population that should keep her occupied for a while. Her fleet is made of independently-minded pirate captains who do not want to spare the manpower to patrol the land. The rigorously drilled marines of the Scourge Fleet would not let such pitiful creatures so easily escape from them.

The Seven Stone Trolls, the islands guarding the entrance to Trollsbay, are mine. I also secured a ten-year protection arrangement with the Cannorians, so I can let the tribute flow in while keeping Izz from seizing any for herself. Perhaps I should spend it on a fortress on the largest 'troll' to match Izz' on the opposite side of the bay. The sacrifices were sent back to Graxxar to be burned, and Rri put on a mighty display of hellfire that no doubt swung more minds back to his side. With the war over, we can begin more active resistance against him.

One of the more prominent Kult priests promised to raise a smaller copy of the Everpyre on the island of Verten. We secured support from the local Colonialists, who did not want their slaves pulled from the fields to build and burn in a monument to arrogance, and blockaded the port until the Kult withdrew.

Resistance is springing up elsewhere as well, as the buccaneers of Jercel, tired of the additional taxes the Kult had forced upon them, rose up and destroyed several shipments of tea that would have earned a pretty penny to the central government. Similar minor mutinies seem to be springing up around the smaller trade and smuggler fleets, but our three core fleets are run with enough of an iron fist that such ideas have no chance to take hold.

We have new orders, probably to keep us away from causing problems for the Kult around the Ruined Sea. The Deranne Trade Company has done a lot of business with our smugglers, but their usefulness has passed and their islands would be better suited as bases for the Scourge Fleet. Their allies in Trollsbay are too far away to support them and will just be another source of plunder.

Uho has been busy scouring Aelantir for wealth and treasures that might aid us in our campaign. She has the smallest fleet of the three of us by far, so it is no wonder she is looking for a gift from the slain Elves of the past rather than fighting to claim territory. Her latest message was an odd one though, claiming to have found some very delicious birds, thick with rich fat, in an otherwise frozen ocean.

We have noticed increased tensions between the Cannorian settlers, and after extracting information from prisoners it seems there is significant religious tension brewing in their homeland. Something about their gods going to war. Perhaps this new war goddess can seize control of their pantheon, as Xhazob did with the demonic host, and turn them towards the path of dominance and blood.

We waited too long. Rri sailed out personally to deal with one of the many mutinies against his taxes and slave appropriation policies, and during the middle of a brawl with unruly sailors a Gnoll armed with a stolen Cannorian pistol shot him dead. Already the Buccaneers have proclaimed Kricirr as the new Chief Admiral and he is demanding that we finish up our invasion and return to Ilzin Mykx to answer to the sailor-led order. Izz is not responding to me, so I do not know if she intends to go rogue or not.

As we have swept up DTC territory, our most unusual annexation has been the Forlorn Isle, which covers access to both the summer passageway around the north of the continent, and the mysterious frozen wasteland north of Sornicande. The wind is chill is this region, almost pleasant against the phantom pain in the scorched flesh of my face.

The DTC itself fell without too much trouble. Its people have been enslaved as usual, but the Everpyre burns only softly. Most of the slaves have been redirected by the new Chief Admiral to our colonial ventures and shipyards instead. Now I need to return to Ilzin Mykx, and see if he intends to eliminate a rival or foolishly trust in me.

I was ready to fight to the death, but Kricirr was a calm and reasonable Gnoll. That will be his undoing. Izz has not responded to summons, so he has deployed my Scourge Fleet to guard against a possible rebellion. In the meantime, apparently word of our deeds has spread to Cannor, and Mykx has become feared as the greatest nation in Aelantir. I am sure she would be proud that her name has reached so far.

Uho returned as instructed shortly after I did. She has reported on the current state of things across the continent, and offered several unusual trinkets to our new Chief Admiral. I am not sure which of them are traps, and she has been tight-muzzled on the subject. Her discoveries include a large native empire in the north-east, gnomish and goblin settlers in the south-west, and a guild of explorers arriving on a large island to our south-west, hunting for Precursor artefacts. She has already set sail again, seeking to pillage those explorers of everything they have discovered.

Kricirr is a soft touch. He has allowed several human communities to buy their way out of slavery and develop empty land within our borders. On the one paw, it will start giving the slaves ideas. On the other, it will be an obvious destination for any escaped slaves, so perhaps leaving them alive and sending through regular patrols might earn me a few extra bodies for my cause.

At least he is also investing in the Fleet. With a massive expansion of infrastructure we will be able to support raids across the whole of Aelantir. He also intends to use these new shipyards to assemble a fleet of his own, to match the Scourge and Ruin Fleets, lead not by strong captains but by such foolish ideas as 'democracy' and 'crew solidarity'. I have made contact with Izz, and have confirmed that he will not live to see such ideas take sail.

He also seems to want to make legitimate traders out of us. Markets, trading companies, banks. All these things are being established at our most prominent harbours. The Smugglers being undercut by this are not happy and have contacted me with some information. A certain something has been discovered in the jungles of our territory. Something that could elevate me to the throne.

I wait just outside Ilzin Myxk, knowing that Izz approaches. The crews of the Scourge Fleet have been given democracy, so Kricirr thinks we are on his side. He does not know that my crews are too well drilled to fall for such weakness. They unanimously re-elected me as their admiral, and when I give the order, they will do as I say, for they fear my lash more than they desire freedom.

The harbour itself is almost unrecognizable from what it was when I first arrived alongside Mykx as a simple captain. Docks extend around the entirety of the bay, and stone structures have replaced the rickety wood that was once there. Simple barriers have been placed around the entrance, forming a chokepoint that any attacker will have to navigate. There are far more merchant vessels than vessels of war at the moment, as Kricirr has encouraged, but that will change soon enough.

Izz arrived, and the Scourge Fleet parted to let her enter. I wish I could have the expression Kricirr wore when faced with a real pirate queen. After devouring him, and making brutal examples of some of his democratic councillors, Izz declared that there would be no more elections and that she would take the title of 'Grand Admiral'. Only the greatest warriors of the seas, like Mykx herself, would rule Mykx' Republic. I offered my congratulations, from the safety of my flagship. She knows, that I know, that she knows that a rival such as myself cannot be tolerated.

As per the vote, Mykx will now be ruled by a Pirate Queen, not by election. The new ruler will be selected from our admirals, with their leader stats translating to ruler stats. This combos very well with our naval tradition bonuses.

Her first proclamations have gone out, and reaffirmed to all the peoples of Mykx that we are a Fleet above all else, a Scourge. The purpose of traders and settlers is to feed into our dominance of the oceans. She has also distributed a handbook on boarding actions, apparently rubbing my nose in all of the successful captures she led during the war in Trollsbay. I am not one to rise to such bait, but it will come back to her in the end.

She intends to hold a feast to celebrate her ascension and make further announcements on the future of the republic. The only issue is that the national treasury is dry after all of Kricirr's spending. So of course, there is only one thing to be done.

I was sent to take the wealth of Sornicande. Perhaps she hoped I would die in battle here, but she is not so lucky. I took some of the wealth for myself and passed it over to the Smugglers for their secret, and gave the rest to Izz to plan her party.

It has been a day of festivities so far. On Ilzin Mykx, Izz officially proclaimed the Grand Republic, before setting sail to Graxxar where she will secure the loyalty of the Kult and hold a massive burning of all the captives we took during the raid on Sornicande. I have no choice but to attend in person, but under these circumstances, in the light and chaos of a demonic pyre, I rate my chances of surviving any assassination attempts highly.

As we sailed, representatives of the Smugglers presented Izz, myself, and the other captains with the product of years of careful work in the jungles. Demon's Blood, distilled from a plant that has been infused with the demonic energy that obliterated the Precursor empire. When we reach Graxxar, we will dive into depths of blood and foul energies that have not been seen since the last great Xhaz. For the first time in years, my heart beats with excitement.

The long, fiery, night is over. At my request, and payment, several batches of the Demon's Blood were manufactured to have ten times the potency. In the chaos of the celebration, Izz did not care what she was ingesting. For a moment it appeared she would ascend to Xhazobine as she climbed the walls of the central chamber of Graxxar Temple, flames licking her body and the freshly severed heads of Humans, Dwarves and Gnolls alike dangling from her belt. Her eyes locked on me, and in the grip of the drug myself I could only see her as Kyzryl's wrath embodied about to descend and snuff out my pitiful plots. Then her heart gave out, and she fell into the pile of writhing and bleeding bodies surrounding the pyre, from which she never rose again.

As dawn broke, the survivors of the party gathered around me. I rose as Grand Admiral Szonith, without any other rivals for the title. Uho avoided the celebration, with her forces still exploring and reaving around South Aelantir, but I think she prefers that over challenging me. Perhaps she is onto something. Demon's Blood was just the beginning, there is far more for us to find and exploit in this vast new world.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Marilliande just has vampire, like Luciander, even without a MT

Imagine Southern Planters, pre American Civil War. Now make them vampires who drikn the blood of their slaves after they're done working them to death. That's sorta what Marilliande is about.

Interesting. Digging into their ideas and events I didn't see anything that outright said it but knowing that there is a lot of implications there that I missed.

Chapter Eight: An Army at Sea
1536-1552

Vanbury Guild outpost, Southpoint, Vanburia, 1538

Artur stood atop the stockade, looking out over the steep cliffs, down onto the pure white beach and out to the crisp blue sea beyond. Vanburia was beautiful, but a paradise it was not. Hot, sticky air rolled out of the jungle beyond their outpost, insects constantly bit at every bit of uncovered skin, and several men had perished at the hands of animals and plants that wielded poisons even the most well-versed medic could not identify.

Still, this was where he would make his fortune. He was being paid an incredible amount, by the standards of a young man from Esmaria, to guard some would-be archaeologists as they searched for the ruins of the Precursors and bartered with the survivors of the Day of Ashen Skies for what relics they still held. He had not met a Ruinborn Elf yet, but he was working at getting a posting on the next expedition to the southern cities. They were supposed to be a match for any city in Cannor, and while he doubted the Ruinborn would really be capable of that, they would be filled with artefacts that would fetch a pretty price back home.

What frustrated him was that the expedition may not sail. Gnollish black flags had been increasingly in the seas over the past few months, and there was talk of blockading the entrance to Steelbay until they were confident they could face the Scourge Fleet head on.

"Artur!" a tall Half-Elf cried, clambering up the steps to the top of the stockade. He almost collapsed as he leaned against the tip of the stockade, catching his breath while staring out to sea.

Artur looked at him, the grip on his arquebus tightening.

"What's going on, Taelar?" he asked.

"Message from Ricardsport," he breathed, "Gnolls hit the docks."

Artur's mouth hung open. The ships they had seen had been a few caravels passing back and forth, nowhere near enough to assault the headquarters of the Vanbury Guild directly. That could only mean that the Scourge Fleet had already arrived at Vanburia in full force. Down below, the rest of the garrison was readying themselves for battle.

Taelar continued to peer to the distance, his eyes glittering with some kind of divination.

"There!" he said, pointing.

Artur directed his spyglass out at where he had pointed, just in time to catch black sails emerging from below the horizon. It quickly became clear that none of the vessels were carracks or other sorts of large vessel, but a collection of smaller, more rickety transports. From the briefings, they could carry maybe a hundred Gnoll warriors between them.

That meant they had a chance.

Ever since their arrival the soldiers of the Vanbury Guild had been drilled to fight Gnolls. It made sense, Mykx had terrorized the waters for decades before they'd arrived and her fleet showed no sign of slowing down even after her death. The key was formation and discipline. Gnolls were savage and brutal, and would slaughter them in a melee, so if they could hold together then they could keep them at pikes-length and let the creatures mindlessly wear themselves down.

It would take a few days for the Gnolls to unload and prepare to assault the stockade, time during which the defenders could cause attrition through taking potshots at them and forcing them to hide in the hostile jungle. Worst case, they could-

"No, no, no," Taelar cut into Artur's train of thought.

He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't been paying attention to the sea. The Gnoll vessels were approaching, but they weren't intending to beach and unload. They were coming straight for the cliffs, which weren't covered by the stockade. They were assaulting right now.

"To the cliffs!" Artur called out, startling the men assembling below him.

As they readied themselves, Taelar reached out and a bolt of lightning zipped from his fingertips. In the blazing sunlight, the sail of one of the Gnoll barges caught alight, but the mass of brown fur swarming the deck took the sail down, stamped out the flames, and had a patch sewn in within minutes. Taelar was shaking, and his next shot went wide. He was not the strongest mage, considering where he had been assigned.

Before he knew it, dozens of grappling hooks shot out and latched onto the cliff at the base of the stockade wall, and Gnollish claws gripped at the cliff edge. Artur stamped and kicked, sending many Gnolls down into the water, but the edges of the cliff were treacherous and just as many men, unprepared for such a daring assault, plummeted along with them. Soon, some were ashore and the air was filled with the sounds of death and the smell of blood.

"Ready formation!" the outpost captain called out, the signal for Artur, Taelar, and anyone else not currently fighting for their life to fall back to the centre of the outpost.

There, with practised precision, they arrayed themselves into a pike-and-gun formation, with the walls and buildings of the outpost guarding their flanks. Artur took up his pike and stared at the mass of Gnolls that was now assembling at the edge of the cliff, the flesh of the last defenders now filling the jaws of the gruesome creatures.

Something was different.

Instead of charging, the Gnolls prowled. There were two distinct ranks, the first carefully advancing, finding cover wherever they could and baiting out shots from the terrified gunners behind Artur, while the second waited behind, watching and staring.

Then the first rank finally charged. Artur's ears thumped in his head, deafening him, as a mass of fur flesh collided with the pike wall. After what could have been seconds or minutes, the Gnolls retreated with many dead and most of the rest bearing wounds. But Artur could hear the exhaustion in his breath and the breath of those around him.

The second rank advanced, almost as though they were a proper military unit. They were better armed and armoured than the first, wearing thick leathers with plate armour strapped over it, and carrying a variety of weapons no doubt stolen from Cannorian ships that they had plundered. It wouldn't be enough to break them, so long as their formation held.

One of the Gnolls, the largest, hefted something in their arms. It was a monstrosity of a weapon, like several small cannons strapped together. It took a moment for Artur, staring into the darkness of the barrel, to register what it was, and then realise what was about to happen.

A second later, he and the men around him were blasted off their feet. He didn't even feel any pain as he landed in the thick, churned mud and within a few slow blinks he could feel himself sinking as dozens of heavy furred feet stomped over him in their mad dash for blood. As his thoughts sank away, he realized that they weren't just savages. They were savages transformed into real soldiers.

Excerpts from the journal of Szonith 'the Dead', Grand Admiral of Mykx

I have inherited a mess. The fleet commanders, the common crew, and the Kult are all at each other's throats and we suffer for it. Many Gnolls are abandoning the Scourge Fleet altogether to settle down in the countless isolated colonies we have across the Ruined Sea. If I am to pull everything back together, I must reforge the Scourge Fleet into a proper fighting force that any Gnoll would be eager to join.

We are not mindless raiders roaming across the plains and deserts of Sarhal. We are warriors of the ocean, the greatest naval fighting force in the world, and we must adapt to our new environment. There is still a place for delicious savagery. In the boarding of an enemy vessel, or breaching the walls of a settlement, we can shatter their hope with an invocation of demonic fury. Faced with a line of pikes and guns, or a squadron of carracks forming a battle line, we cannot simply throw ourselves to our deaths.

Reforming our military gives us permanent access to units with fire damage, for the cost of tanking our tradition temporarily.

We should be capable of more advanced tactics that simply running into the fray. Before she died, Tluukt was famous for her ravagers holding back their bloodlust until the critical moment in the battle, and then joining in to finally break the enemy. This is example we should look towards. The right application of terror and devastation, applied with all the cunning and foresight that Xhazob grants us.

That said, fire damage is still not yet that relevant, so we are sticking with the high-shock option at the moment.

I have been looking for foes to test our new military against, Uho approached me with a suggestion to investigate the Vanbury Guild, who have settled a large island that dominates the straits between the Ruined Sea and the Torn Sea. She has been seeing increasing activity each time she passes by during her expeditions along the southern Aelantir coast. Now is the time to strike, before they dig themselves too deeply.

After toying with a few other ideas for our military, I settled on assembling a force dedicated to fighting at sea and striking quickly against the shore from boats. Separating the crew from the warriors means that their training can be intensely focused on their differing roles. It will be a dangerous role, being the first clambering aboard an enemy vessel or out bounding out of the shallows against a gun line, but Gnolls will always jump at the chance for blood.

Marines I find are very rarely useful, but as Mykx will be doing a lot of island-hopping and contested landings, they do have their place.

As activity increases in Aelantir, we find we are not the only ones seeking plunder from the juicy targets that surround us. Often times we simply slaughter everyone who attempts to cut in on our seas, but recently a squadron of Human pirates have offered to cut us in, in exchange for being allowed to ply their tactics on the periphery of our territory. For now, I have allowed it. Perhaps these Humans can show their mettle, and if not, then the Scourge Fleet will shatter them.

The Kult has been delving into the power of Demon's Blood, despite the limited supply. This has caused no end of incidents, such as mass-visitations consuming the minds of entire towns, hellfire accidentally being called down on our own ships, and a lot of dead priests. If it keeps them focused on something other than affairs of the republic, then I will let them have their fun.

I personally sailed the Scourge Fleet into Steel Bay to take a look at this guild. I have to admire their industriousness, building a port that can rival Ilzin Mykx in a far shorter time period. That means there is all the more plunder in there. I signalled the start of the invasion with a volley against their dockyards, but there were enough fortifications that I decided against a direct assault. I had something else in mind.

We landed on the southern tip of the island, brushed aside their meagre defences, and secured a port to disembark our war hyenas and artillery within a matter of days. Already my marines have proven their value in this vast, island filled, sea that we dwell in.

Uho has completed her mapping of South Aelantir, and with is has brought news of new targets to reave. The far south-west of the continent is filled with Elves and their cities that have survived the centuries. Most notable are massive cities shielded by strange magics on the western island, filled with wealth and power that has been accumulating since the Precursors were struck down. While Vanburia falls, I have dispatched the Scourge Fleet to test my might against such a target.

We ravaged our way across the northern tip of their island, but found the towns and villages strangely empty. Soon, we were able to capture some peasants in the middle of abandoning their homes who made it clear that we were not what they were fleeing from. A few days later, the wind turned and a choking demonic gale blew across our fleet. It filled my mouth with the taste of metal, and anyone who spent too long outside wasted away. I had to sacrifice the lives of many slaves and crew to get the Fleet to shelter until the wind died down. Raiding this region will require a proper safe harbour.

The massive blue-ish desert is a radioactive wasteland that regularly blows fallout over the area, hence the shielded cities. In-game it doesn't actually affect fleets, I think most of the effects are limited to provinces.

Returning from those blighted waters, I was gifted with the most intense vision that Xhazob has ever seen fit to grant me. Confined to quarters, I writhed in my bunk while I clawed at my fur, pulling off lumps of fur and trying to scratch at the incessant prickling sensation that covered my body. In my delirium, Xhazob spoke to me. He spoke of chains wrapped around the world, chains that were filled with fiery blood that spilt onto the land and left devastation in its wake. Chains that would be hauled by us, by the Scourge Fleet, in his name.

The battle for Vanburia was over by the time the Scourge Fleet returned. The Humans had been no match for us, and we have begun ransacking their archives and torturing out information from their guild leaders on what sort of treasures they had discovered in their time here.

As I continue to convalesce from my visitation, couriers continue to bring in reports from across the nation. We are growing ever larger, spanning thousands of miles and countless settlements and ships. Even with government observers stationed on the ships there is no way to prevent cunning and greedy Gnolls from finding ways to steal pieces of treasure here and there or find ways to pay off other officials. Admiral Tegil is in command while I am in Vanburia, and I am concerned about what she may be plotting. This will need my full attention once I return.

Corruption is a major problem, as we have several stacking modifiers that increase it and conquering territory only makes it worse. I'll have to start paying it down in earnest once colony fever dies down.

Before departing back to Ilzin Mykx, Uho approached me with maps showing routes across the vast ocean to the west, bypassing a vast storm-bound continent and arriving in Haless. She wanted to take her fleet and complete a circumnavigation of the globe, returning to Wanderer's Gate on the eastern side of the republic laden with treasures from every corner of Halann. With my vision in mind, I gave her permission.

Upon returning, I reassigned Tegil from the Fleet to a teaching role. It will give her access to the next generation of sailors, but it drastically cuts her power in the meantime. My sickness has still not yet fully abated, so I will not take too many risks.

My stone, the one Uho gave me as part of our conspiracy twenty years ago, lit up one day. I had long since relegated it to my hoard, so it was a long time before I noticed, but its message was one that I could do nothing about. Uho gave an account of her fleet being dragged into the storm-wall barrier that surrounded the mysterious continent she had charted. She and few survivors were making for Haless, but I doubted that they would make it, or if they did that they would be particularly welcome. Though she was a rival, I always admired her drive. I will dedicate my next few sacrifices to her memory, and confiscate the artefacts she left behind for the good of the republic.

Oops. I had already charted a clear line of tiles from east to west, but apparently the fleet decided to sail straight through the Terra Incognito instead.

Vanburia is the most distant island of significant size that we have tried to rule yet. If a slave rebellion were to occur, our response would be months away. Luckily, there are no end of collaborators who wish are happy to corral the rest of their people in exchange for merely the power it offers over them. Such is the way of 'nobility'.

The number of slave ships bringing Orcish slaves continues to increase, but the tales they tell are shifting. They are not despondent and defeated, but determined and angry. The slaves say they were taken prisoner on the frontlines of the great Corintide, only to be sold into slavery rather than ransomed or executed. Whatever their story, they are too strong-willed and so I ordered them to be sold right back to the Cannorians we plundered them from.

The Smugglers continue to provide significant supplies of Cannorian weapons, and the warriors have been training to integrate them into their battle tactics. They have found the most success by sawing-off the front of hand cannons and strapping several of them together. The barrels together deliver a blast as powerful as a cannon, but in the hands of a frontline warrior. A Human would be too pitifully weak to wield a weapon like this, but for a Gnoll it is perfect.

With Vanburia mostly pacified through the actions of collaborators and the dockyards of Ricardsport built up to the point that they can support the Scourge Fleet, we are ready begin operations on the western coast of Aelantir. We will need to secure safe harbours in the south against the deadly wind, and the journey to the lands of Eordand in the far north-west are needs stopping points. The next step will be to secure islands in these regions so that the true plundering can begin.

My reforms are seeing results. We have launched a new campaign against Trollsbay, and once again the marines are proving themselves invaluable. I can confidently say that we have an army at sea, one inextricably tied to the Scourge Fleet instead of a rabble that merely uses it for transportation. I would like to have time to continue and phase out the army entirely in favour of the marines, as well as establish an official academy for our captains, but with the progression of my illness I fear my soul will soon be cast into the Pits.

I have left a legacy of eager, well-trained, sailors and marine warriors loyal to their captain and the legacy of Mykx. The concerns of the start of my rule have passed, and the Scourge Fleet is stronger than ever, ranging freely over almost all of the continent. I cannot fulfil the dream of chains wrapping the world, but I have taken a step towards it.

The latest extortion campaign came to a close with the Trollsbay settlers paying their tithe of gold and blood. Many of the slaves were brought directly back to Ilzin Mykx to further develop the island and build the facilities for the naval academy, while the money has been put aside to support the Smuggler's efforts to refine the creation of Demon's Blood. Supplies remain limited and expensive, and they have said they have big plans for once they can enter mass-production.

My time is spent writing out training manuals, for there is little else that I can do from my bed. Every lesson we have learned from the moment Mykx set sail across the vast ocean to now, half a century of knowledge, all distilled into the information a sailor needs to dominate the waves and terrorize the land.

I have also been reading pamphlets stolen from the holds of vessel arriving in Aelantir, speaking of the mighty and merciful Corin. For a war goddess, she is far too soft-hearted, but I can understand why the Cannorians seek justification for their own bloodlust. They are too weak to acknowledge what war truly is. I know that my soul will burn brightly in Xhazob's maw and fuel the demonic war machine, crushing everything with the weight of its hull.

Excerpts from the journal of Xokir, Demon's Blood researcher

When Tegil took over after 'the Dead' finally actually died, we all immediately went to ground. The last transfer of power was a bloody mess, and we wanted no part of that mess. It was a shock when Tegil walked into our scurry-holes and opened negotiations. The bosses had been talking to her even while she was stuck teaching pups and preparing to back her claim. Carefully she had removed her rivals while under Szonith's nose, and now she sought the Smugglers with a proposal.

One day, one day I will have a ruler who survives more than two updates.

She would build new factories across the territory the fiercer captains conquered, giving us more places to trade in our illicits with the Cannorians and the natives. We have so much stuff we can't even move, so opening that up was a no-brainer for us.

She even went so far as to give a group of the bosses a place in her government. Now, they are sneaky guys so I don't know if she knows what she's getting herself into, but even a chump like me can see her goal. The Cannorians won't officially recognize us, but they sure as the Pits want our goods. And one item in particular.

Originally this was on the same tier as Pirate King. If you pick any of the other Tier 7 reforms it will force you to pick this as your Tier 6 reform, which doesn't make much sense to me so I moved it to Tier 7, not to mention the idea of a Pirate Queen was more fun and fit well with what had previously been voted for. If one of the other options had won the initial Legal Code vote, I might have kept this on Tier 6 as intended.

I'd been bashing my snout against a proper mix for Demon's Blood, and she was willing to open up the coffers for us. Not just whatever pittance 'the Dead' had set aside for us, but more cash than I'd ever seen before. With gold in hand, we had access to anything the markets could provide and soon me and my researchers had refined the mixture to near perfection. Only problem is, we have driven the plant to its death across our islands. We've got to go further afield.

To the south there's foul swamps, where the scouts say the plants grow in even larger quantities. There are strange mutant Elves living there, probably no good to eat at all. The Cannorians lurk at the entrance, so we've been told the marines will be going in as soon as possible, and we'll be right behind them. I might just dig into my personal supply for this, rather than spend a day in the Leechdens while sober.

To be continued…

Coming up next, a state of the world interlude.

 

[Sybot]

Interlude: State of the World 1552

Contents of a missive from Ikse 'the Crafty', delivered to Grand Admiral Tegil

My many eyes have seen many things, and I bring you news of the situation to the east. You were correct to employ my abilities. We cannot afford to blind ourselves to events outsides of the seas that Mykx claimed, or we will miss the sword as it descends onto our necks.

In the north of Cannor, a new power has emerged. The Bear Lords of Bjarnrík have crossed the waters from their homeland and crushed the once mighty Kingdom of Gawed, and now lay claim to all the waters of the region and even have begun colonial efforts in the north of Aelantir. The Gnomes too, having reconquered their homeland, suffer under the might of the bear. The Bjarnríki were once reavers as feared as any Gnollish raider, so we ought to be ready for a potential rival if they start appearing in force in our waters.

Remember how Gawed was the final boss in the Orlghelovar campaign? Well, this time luck was against them and they have been pressed in from multiple sides. The Hierarchy is the Gnomish formable, and is one of the earliest possible Artificer nations in the game.

The other likely threat is Lorent. Having suppressed their unruly subjects and capitalized on the destruction of Gawed, they are by far the strongest single power in Cannor and have been preparing colonial expeditions and building a fleet capable of matching the Scourge Fleet. They do have concerns closer to home, though. The Wexonard Emperor still stands strong, and the Empire remains in good health. Amusingly, the Elfrealms in Venáil and Ibevar have been crushed, and with the failure of the Elves to resettle across the sea there is no chance of them reclaiming their former glory. Their ancient treasures are free for us to plunder as we wish.

Ibevar starts off in a religious disaster, so if that goes badly it can lead them into a deathspiral, and Venáil needs to get its colonies going or it is doomed.

Curious news has come from deeper inland, though much of it is shrouded in mystery. Hordes of Orcs who now worship the once-Human warrior goddess Corin are pouring out of the lands of Escann, seizing territory all around the periphery of the Empire, including in Gawed and Corvuria. The cocky adventurers who wanted to reclaim the lands of Escann after the Greentide have instead been washed away by the force of the Corintide.

I'm very interested to see what it actually looks like once the TI clears.

And speaking of the pathetically kind-hearted Human, my eyes in the lands of Viakkoc have confirmed that the son of the one who drove us out, now Viakkoc XIV, has converted and brought his whole kingdom with him. Perhaps he was driven to this after being driven from mainland Cannor and Toref, but either way he is rapidly eradicating the Kult and calling upon Corin's power to protect him from retaliation. I have made many inroads among those still loyal to Xhazob, if you wish to stage an intervention from across the ocean. If Viakkoc falls into religious conflict, the Elves of Elizna will only take further advantage to cement their hold on the region.

It seems Viakkoc has started de-monsterizing, as this is the only way that I know of that this could have happened. Ravelian, Corinite, and the Jadd (also the Thought for Kobolds and Goblins) are available options if you have one of those nations as a neighbour (Verne in this case, who have a colony just at the bottom of the image).

Further to the east, a vast and growing collection of fanatics is pushing westwards. The Jadd Empire has incorporated Elves, Humans, Harpies and even Gnolls all under a single motto: 'There is no god but Surael, and Jaddar is his prophet'. The scattered collection of kingdoms opposing them are unlikely to hold, so soon Cannor and Sarhal might be overrun by a sunlit Xhaz.

Usually, one of the Jadd or the Phoenix will arise in Bulwar without player intervention, and this time Jaddar won the coin flip.

More unfortunate news for the followers of Xhazob comes from deeper in the desert. As they rose, Gnollakaz falls. Their Golden Age has been brought to and through rebellions by Khetists, the Jadd pressuring their frontier, and the rise of a mighty conqueror in Fangaula.

Once again there isn't much to see in Sarhal that I can give a good account of.

Finally, at the very edges of my network, I have learned about the rise and fall of great powers. The Raj of Rahen has fallen, with the Jadd advancing from the west and the powerful Hobgoblin Command attacking from the north. An order of religious warriors has arisen to combat the Hobgoblins, and the stage is set for a tremendous war. Also, demons supposedly dwelt in the mountains of this region but have been subjugated by the Command. If our reach should ever one day touch this land, liberating them and returning them to Xhazob should be our goal.

This is a pretty standard outcome for Haless. The Raj falls apart, Bhuvauri rises in the vacuum. One Xia forms and opposes the Command.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Nine: Mass Production
1552-1570

The dockyards below Ilzin Isobel Citadel, 1567

Serim climbed off the boat onto the dock, steadying himself as a tingling ran up from his toes, down his arms, and left his hands shaking. His two bodyguards followed him up, giving no indication that had seen his little moment of connection with the energy of the island.

Above him, the great citadel the pirates had constructed on Isobel Island, or rather Ilzin Isobel, loomed tall and dark. Dim and distant torches and the faintly glittering light of the waning moon were their only guide in this night. Behind him, the coast of Trollsbay stretched in both directions, with Port Isobel shining with the light of tens of thousands of sailors and longshoremen working to get their goods to sea while their still had a chance. They all had protection agreements with the Gnolls, allowing them to safely pass the citadel, but out on open waters anything could happen. Moving out when the winds were good and the night was dark was their best bet for safety.

None of that was Serim's concern though. The darkness aided him a different way. His ship was anchored just beyond the docks, sails stowed away and every light extinguished. When the deal was done, they would row the ship back out of Isobeliner waters and back to a hidden cove on Zanlib, all before the break of day.

"Keep your wits about you," he said to the bodyguards, as he started striding along the docks. Mostly because he doubted that he could do so himself.

If he hadn't been invited, he would not be walking so confidently through Gnollish territory. Dressed in fine silks imported all the way from Haless via Bulwar, and wearing jewellery acquired from the explorers who had delved beyond the Cliffs of Ruin and into the fallen civilizations that dwelled beyond them, he would be a prime target to be stripped of his fineries and freedom and worked to death below decks in the Scourge Fleet. But the Gnolls, savage creatures though they were, understood the concept of waiting now for a bigger payoff later.

As they moved inwards from the outer docks, the structure grew around them like a jungle stripped of its leaves, and Serim could see glinting eyes and hulking forms multiplying around them. If they wanted, they could absolutely overpower his guards and seize him. He grit his teeth as his hands began to shake again, not from fear but from the sensation of blood and fire that filled the air.

"You're early, Serim," a low voice said, speaking Castanorian Common with a rough growl permeating it.

Before him, from a small wooden hut perched between two walkways, a Gnoll with at least two feet in height over Serim emerged and stood before the three Humans.

"Captain Ehn, thank you for attending in person," Serim replied. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bag she was carrying, as the sensation ran through him again. "Is that it?"

"Fresh from the Pits of Grillax," Ehn said, a hot hiss whistling through her teeth. She held up the bag and Serim's fingers twitched at the sight.

"How many?" he asked. He couldn't let himself get completely lost, not yet.

"Twenty crates of powder, ten barrels of solution," Ehn said. She clicked her claws together and previously unseen Gnolls emerged from the darkness, each carrying two containers by themselves.

Serim let out a whistle. That was larger than any shipment he'd heard of reaching Trollsbay before. By itself it would make him the top dealer in Zanlib. One crate for himself and the others in charge, one crate for the local garrison members he'd gotten hooked, leaving eighteen more to distribute and build a customer base. Then the diluted and lower quality solution for the common man who couldn't afford the good stuff. Serim licked his lips and took in a long breath through his nose.

"Payment is the usual," he said.

On the way home, one of his vessels stationed just off the Zanlib coast would release a rowboat loaded with the payment. If something happened to him, or the Gnolls decided to seize treasure and cargo both, then the payment vessel would flee or worst case dump the loot overboard and let the Gnolls scrabble in the sea for the sinking gold.

Ehn nodded in response, and turned towards the nearest Gnoll with a crate to load the bag into it.

"Wait," Serim said, and a wicked toothy grin grew on Ehn's face.

She didn't say anything, just holding the bag up over the open crate. The Gnoll lugging the box snorted with annoyance at the games she was playing, but Serim was fixated on the bag. There was no way he would last the whole trip home; he needed something right now.

"Is that the prime product?" he asked, giving in.

"Oh yes," Ehn said. She opened the bag, dipped a clawtip into it and withdrew it coated in fine green powder. Her tongue ran across her claw and she let out a long and satisfied growl as her eyes contracted until the whites were actual visible, before dilating back out to full darkness again.

"I'd like some, now," he asked.

Ehn approached him, her body twitching visibly under her fur her head lolling back and forth. Behind him, Serim heard the guards grab their weapons, but he stood firm and held out a hand.

"It'll cost you extra," she said. Watching his expression she continued, "it's even more potent in places Xhazob reigns."

Grumbling with annoyance, Serim slipped a golden ring from his open hand and handed it to Ehn. She gave off a throaty hoot of a laugh, then poured out a small pile of the viciously green powder into his palm.

Serim stared at it. It had been almost a week since his supply had run out, and his whole body was feeling the lack of hellfire running through his veins. Maybe she was right, the sensation had gotten even worse since stepping into Gnollish territory. Maybe that meant that it would feel even better, or maybe that would mean the evil drug would pull him in deeper. Either way, every muscle in his body screamed for him to bury his face into his hand.

He leaned forward, and inhaled the powder in just two long sniffs. His nose immediately felt like had caught fire, and his entire body locked up as the burning spread across the surface of his face and dug tendrils of fire deeper and deeper into his brain. The darkness all around him, no, the Darkness, swept up and consumed the Humans and Gnolls, leaving just a single sliver of light in the sky, which was surely Surakel fighting back and trying to save Serim's soul. Serim renounced Surakel in his thoughts and in his words, and let the wave of fire burn pleasure into every inch of his body.

As the Darkness pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a demon of fur and metal stepped out, teeth and eyes on every one of their limbs, and he did not resist it as it whispered plans and plots into his ears.

Minutes or hours later, Serim came to in one of a small fleet of rowboats carrying the product back to his ship. His bodyguards hadn't abandoned him, but they were very pointedly not looking at him. His whole body still radiated bliss, and his thoughts were clearer than they had been all week. He shot upright and looked back at the lights of the citadel. He could see now, the eyes burning in the Darkness, the demons the Gnolls worshipped aching to break free and teach the world their joy and despair. He would bring this revelation to the world, one shipment at a time.

Excerpts from the journal of Xokir, Demon's Blood Researcher

The Grand Admiral has picked out this one guy, Ik 'the Smart', to set up the smuggling channels and make sure that the government gets its cut of the profits. I can't say I'm as smart as he claims to be but it doesn't seem that tricky to me. Find a few Humans in key places, get them hooked, and then make them leave gates open or watchposts empty in exchange for the next hit.

A batch of Ruinborn slaves have turned up in Ilzin Mykx to be our guides in the Leechdens. They whined about not actually knowing anything the swamps and jungles, but an Elf is an Elf, right? Worst case, we can feed them to the critters that live in the water and keep them off our boats.

More waves of settlers have been turning up, especially lots and lots of Kult priests. They're being persecuted back in the homeland, since the newest Viakkoc has started worshipping some Human and forcing his pack to live in harmony with the other races around him. Now I'm no fanatic, but that's hubris just asking for a fall.

We've arrived on one of the islands in the middle of the Leechdens, a more defensible position than putting our backs to the endless jungle on the shore. Unlike the other places that've been settled there were actually a few tribes hanging around so we had to station a garrison to drive them off. Our 'guides' have been pretty useless, so we sent them to communicate with some of the larger tribes on the shore. Didn't turn out to well for them.

So far, this this whole thing's been a mess. We aren't getting the support we need. I should be mixing and cooking, not chopping trees and digging roads. Guess nobody wants to come to this Pits-damned bug hole instead of a rich and empty island.

Our colonial buffs are starting to run out, dropping us down from four colonists to two and having them grow even slower.

At least we don't have to eat the local wildlife. All poisonous as Kentryn's breath, I'd say. We live off fish that has been acquired from the Lorentish fishers who think they can dodge the Scourge Fleet while harvesting the rich shoals in our waters.

There's nothing here to see expect trees and murky water. There's barely even enough for me to replenish my supply. We need to head further inland, but that's not going to be any more pleasant. Why couldn't this stuff grow by somewhere like the Cliffs? Now that was a sight to see, even if just from the deck of a ship. They've apparently found a pass through from Trollsbay to a huge river plain on the other side, wonder if we should check the local flora up there too.

Much like the Marrhold tunnel, there are Great Projects that allow travel through the otherwise impassable Cliffs of Ruin, the rim of the crater caused by the Day of Ashen Skies.

A big shift back home. Tegil's out already, Skullchomper is in. Don't know much about the guy, he was minor Captain under Tegil until she was reassigned to teaching, and built up his power in the Fleet of Ruin until he could launch his own coup. The bosses are probably freaking out, but we're isolated enough here that we can keep doing what we're doing and be fine.

Skullchomper doesn't seem to have any interest in actually ruling. He's given the normal running of the republic over to the bosses and screwed off to plot campaigns in the Torn Sea. What a headache this must be, and it means we'll be getting even less support.

I take that back, we did get support, though not what I expected. He sent a detachment to conquer the shore tribes, securing us both the land and decent supply of slaves to work it. I've been promoted to foreman of the research team, so I've got a lot of work to do to locate the best sources of the Demon's Blood precursors and organize the slave gangs to build plantations. Downside is we'll need a bunch of hungry and disruptive warriors hanging around to keep the slaves in line.

The garrison is increasing in size, with Orcs roaming the jungle to the north. A massive breakout of Corintide slaves ravaged Jercel harbour, our easternmost outpost, and took all the stolen wealth and ships to Soruin. The southern ring of the Cliffs separates them from the Leechdens, but who knows when they'll be able to find a way down here.

A batch of forged manifests made its way to us. They want us to ship out the batches of Demon's Blood we have, but I've put my paw down on that. Mass production is still out of reach and internal demand is consuming what we've got. There are a lot of powerful folks who don't want to be cut off just so the bosses can make a bit of Cannorian cash.

My youngest assistants have been chattering about new beginnings and how Mykx is the last bastion of proper Gnollish culture and worship of the demonic host. Well, that won't be for more longer. If we get Demon's Blood out into the world, then everyone'll get their own demonic visitations. It'll inject a little terror and selfishness into their boring lives. But first I need my assistants working, not chatting!

This event pops up for pretty much all spawnable and settled adventurer nations to give them new cultures, although as we already have our own unique culture, Ruinscourge Gnoll, it just gives us a few bonuses.

The new Grand Admiral has been in charge for a few years now, but he is still more interested in ravaging the defenceless colonies than assisting the bosses in their plans or providing us with funding. Everything we've built has been taken off the backs of the locals and whatever dumb saps decide to settle in this nightmare.

From what I hear the bosses aren't managing things too well either. Graft is on the rise, and the scribe slaves are being overworked until their wrists break just trying to keep track of the paperwork. Can't say I'm not partaking, after all a certain percent of the product is reserved for me and the team before it even leaves these walls.

Pirate republics get a massive malus to governing capacity cost on provinces, and adding merchant republic mechanics through the last government reform has made it even worse.

Colonists continue to arrive in the Leechdens, sailing ships snatched from the so-called 'Ruined Triangle' and with their former crews as fresh slaves. Sorely need too, between the heat, the wildlife, and the diseases the turnover is crazy. Mykx had to have been demon-guided to stick her headquarters in the perfect place to dominate shipping between the east and west.

We're getting fewer Elven slaves, or at least fewer stuck-up twigs from Cannor. The weird and wild types who live the jungle are still plentiful. They picked up some good alliances and managed to dig themselves out of the hole they found themselves in when they got kicked out of Cannor for good. A bit late for their dream of reclaiming the whole continent for Elfdom, though.

This is actually pretty impressive. Venail only had a few islands and a weak colonial nation not that long ago. It's probably a result of the unwillingness of colonial nations to revolt. Aeliande are still subject to Venail despite being much stronger.

Tall tales from the sailors talk about Skullchomper defeating a Kheionai fleet five times larger than his own. I don't doubt he's out there munching heads at sea while they fight each other on land, but at least make it a bit believable. Pretty risky for a Grand Admiral to be out there as well, I got a theory that the poisonous winds out there are what deaded 'the Dead' when she had a go.

Though if the Grand Admiral does secure some ports, it'll save a lot of lives and maybe even his own. Also, a good jumping off point for smashing open some of those massive shielded cities and getting at the juicy treasure within. Lots of cash for the research program.

The Fleet will get a big chunk of that plunder before us, though. We're spanning thousands of miles, from the one random island in the north-eastern ice waters, to these new islands far to the south west. The Grand Admiral better have a plan to be able to hold onto that, or the Cannorians will find a way to screw us over.

Finishing exploration also gives us the ability to fabricate claims everywhere in Aelantir, very useful as it means we can now justify a war without needing a nearby province.

A breakthrough! It took years of work, but I have the perfect process to produce Demon's Blood in vast quantities. Leaves of the Demon's Vine, crushed and cooked, combined with the poisons of the Pit Leech and Deadly Blue fungus, then mixed with differing amounts of Tea, Tobacco and a combination of Spices to produce all of the different varieties of Demon's Blood for the different consumer markets. The bosses are already shipping put the product internally, and soon I expect the world will taste what I've made.

Some of the bosses have gathered into a single cartel, calling themselves the Blood Bringers, and handed over a list of ports to the Grand Admiral to grab and make into posts for Demon's Blood. He dismissed them, probably because taking much more territory would cause no end of problems for the guys running things, but the Kult has taken an interest in one of those regions in particular.

The first port opened up on Ilzin Isobel, and shipments and being snuck across all of Trollsbay to eager and addicted customers on the mainland. Reports are already coming back about the differing effects the drug has on Humans, Elves, Halflings, Orcs, and, somehow, Vampires. I've got access to at least some of these here, so I've repurposed some slaves for further experiments. I can't wait to refine it for even better addictive properties.

And here is how we make our real money. There are four levels of income we can reach by upgrading the centre of trade and building trade-related buildings. Note that the income is yearly, and is also hit by the fact that this is wrong-religion, wrong-culture province.

I've been called back to Graxarr, where the bosses've given me my own administration to organise more production operations. I not upset to be out of that pit of bloodsuckers but think I might've fallen into another one. The Kult is strong here, and have really gotten high on the supply I've given them. There's a lot of politics going over my head between them and the Fleet's administration on Ilzin Mykx. Luckily, they're pulling in the same direction right now.

All the spare money is going into courthouses and state houses just so we can keep ahead of the governing cap.

A bunch of Cannorian crusaders conquered a Ruinborn nation on the western side of the Ruined Sea and claimed it as their own nation. Now, neither the Kult nor the Blood Bringers care about the natives, but these Humans have seized and plan to consecrate a massive citadel of bones in the name of their god, who supposedly guards the gates of the Pits, and are building a port in the shadow of the ruin. The Kult wants the citadel, the bosses want the port, the Admiral wants blood and treasure. Everyone's on board.

Ruling the seas is no joke. The marines landed at both ends of their nation, so only one landing could be contested before the bulk of our troops landed. The crusaders decided to group up rather than contest either, but they didn't last long once faced with the full power of our hand-culverins.

While I was enjoying the tales from the ravaging of the cocky crusaders, a report crossed my desk coming from the other direction. Reveria has seized Jercel, and is moving on our other islands on the eastern side of Aelantir. I didn't know what I could do about it, so I attached it a pigeon to go straight to the Fleet. Better get Skullchomper doing what he does best.

The Fleet is on the way back, leaving the Kult to take over the Bone Citadel. All the Cannorian religious icons were stripped out and defiled, and the blood of both Nerat's crusaders and the Ruinborn collaborators who had abandoned their own properly demonic religion has been used to desecrate the citadel in the name of Xhazob. With my drug bubbling in their veins, our priests are going to have no trouble forcing open the Pits, no matter how hard Nerat tries to keep them closed.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Ten: To Every Corner
1570-1590

A tavern in Death's Port, a short distance from the Bone Citadel, 1586

Raucous hooting laughter rang through air as a table collapsed under the weight of the Gnoll warrior dancing atop it. She landed among her fellow warriors, who began a small but friendly scuffle with only a little blood spilled between them. Several of the local garrison, looking to get a little friendly and perhaps find a mate, sidled over and tried to pry their way into the throng, but the warriors were not going to let some landlubber cowards into their fun and any interlopers were thrown across the tavern in short order.

Darran dodged a Gnoll skidding across the floor and pivoted to keep the mugs of ale filling his hands from tipping all over his nearest customers. Well, though he considered them customers he did not really have a choice in serving them. As a slave of the mayor of Death's Port, formerly Neratport, he had no real power. However, he did have a modicum of respect, for being the one who provided Gnolls with their booze and their powder.

He managed to avoid any more of the fighting tearing up a corner of his tavern and made his way to another group of warriors who were a bit more sedate. Four of them were chattering amongst themselves while two lounged against a wall with their beady eyes dilating and contracting at random.

"Six tankards," he said, in his passable Gnollish, "and twenty doses."

After setting down the drinks, he pulled from his pocket a small sack filled with the green powder that the creatures loved so much. The four sensate Gnolls cheered, and began to down their drinks. There wasn't any payment forthcoming, he got a stipend from the mayor to provide for visitors, and thar was it. Over the years since he was caught, he had learned a few tricks to keep that money going and some backchannels to get drink and drugs at a discount.

He was about to turn and return to the bar when a furry clawed hand closed around his wrist. Not violently, but enough so that he knew he wouldn't be able to leave.

"C'mon, have a little fun, barman," one of the Gnolls said. He didn't recognise her. She wasn't from the garrison or the Kult, which meant she was probably one of the new arrivals bringing in money and slaves for the Bone Citadel.

"Yeah, Humans love this stuff too!" another Gnoll said, "I had a slave who couldn't keep his hands off my stash, so I had to take them off."

"Excuse me," Darran said carefully, "but I need to serve the rest of your comrades, ma'am."

"Trizry, marine sergeant. There are other slaves," she said. She was right, he wasn't serving a tavern full of Gnolls alone. However, he was the one in charge. Things could get out of hand without his coordination.

Trizry didn't give him a chance to respond any further, pulling him onto the bench beside her and grabbing the bag of powder. In a practice motion, she dipped her claws in to withdraw a small dose, snort it, then pass the bag around to the other Gnolls at the table.

"That's the stuff," she said, her snout twitching. She twisted her neck to look into the rafters, and Darran could only imagine what sort of dark images were leaking into her vision.

"What do you see?" he asked. The sooner he got them distracted the sooner he could get back to work.

"Oho, so you are interested," Trizry said, "been around the Citadel enough to get curious, I bet."

"The Kult has been talking to us," he said, "I-" and he chose his next words carefully "-used to worship Nerat, but after he abandoned us, I have no patron. Are your visions real?"

"As real as my scars," she replied, "you don't know demonic power until you have bled in the pits, your body being torn at by fiends, and the blood of Grilax burning in your veins."

"Or felt your body twist and grow in the light of the Everpyre," another Gnoll spoke up.

"Or watched a priest curse a cannon to only shoot hellfire, and then it explodes because we didn't offer Xhazob enough blood," a third Gnoll chipped in.

"So, it's something a Human can't really participate in," Darran said, "we aren't the bloodline of Grilax."

"That's where this comes in," Trizry said. She scooped a dose, larger than the one she had taken, and held it in front of Darran's nose, "or so the Kult thinks, anyway. Won't know 'till you try. Might put some hair on your chest, and arms, and everywhere else it should be."

He could feel the energy radiating off the sickly green powder piled up before him, even just breathing close to it made his nose tingle. He couldn't say that he hadn't been tempted in the past, when Demon's Blood had first appeared along with the Gnollish conquerors, if only to escape from the nightmare he had been enslaved into. On the other hand, they had rampaged across the seas for decades and showed no signs of slowing down. Perhaps the Regent Court really had abandoned this continent, and left it to the demons. In that case, what was the harm?

Maybe he could take a break, and see what Xhazob had to offer him. Or was that the powder speaking to him? His thoughts were swimming, his heart was pounding, and dark hands throbbed at the edges of his vision.

Before he could lean forward, the door to the tavern slammed open, and he shot to his feet in an ingrained motion to greet the new arrivals.

He wasn't the only one.

Trizry and the other Gnolls at the table shot up, the two zonked out being dragged to their feet by the others. Across the tavern, the fighting stopped and the warriors assembled themselves into a line without any trouble, the only sign that they weren't anything but perfectly coordinated being the scratches lining their bodies.

At the doorway stood a tall Gnoll adorned in fancy but practical armour. Splint armour made of strips of gold and steel covered her body, adorned with shreds of fine silk fabric that had once been part of a very expensive outfit. Over her shoulders she wore a cloak made of thick cloth, into which someone had sewn the skull and bones flag of Mykx.

"Sergeant!" she called out.

"Present!" Trizry replied, loud enough to make Darran's ears ring.

"Get them in order," the Gnoll said, her teeth bared in a ferocious grin, "we sail in two hours. Any left behind will be charged with desertion."

"At your command, Captain Szura," Trizry said.

Szura turned and left, probably to smash down the doors of more taverns to retrieve her marines.

Darran felt a hand on his shoulder as the tavern erupted into a flurry of movement and barked orders. He looked up to see Trizry handing him back the bag of Demon's Blood with a twinkle in her eye, before she began dragging the rest of the marines out of the building whether they were sober or not.

As his customers cleared away, leaving just a few shocked local Gnolls, Darran couldn't help but wonder what was more surprising. That he was actually considering the reality of the demons, or that a group of Gnolls could actually have such discipline instilled in them.

Excerpts from the journal of Szura Skulleater, Marine Captain in the Scourge Fleet

The Reverians dare to challenge us, thinking us weak and overextended. Nonsense. It is only the strange combination of naivety and ambition that makes their king believe he has a hope against us. The Scourge Fleet is larger, and my marines can match any one of their armies in the field.

Here is why they decided to attack. Personalities can have quite the effect on AI actions. Also, RIP to the Gnomes once again. Reveria being a naïve GC meant that they were happy to take all the Hierarchy's territory and ignore the AE involved.

Cannor pays no mind to the fools on their periphery, focused as they are on the Corintide crisis, with even the Emperor himself bowing to the goddess in the face of the Orcish invasion. The more I hear of her the more I am impressed. Merciful and charitable she may be, but she has struck a bloody blow in the heavens themselves and caused blood to rain across a continent. Perhaps she will learn a taste for it and become a proper goddess of blood and death worthy of worship.

My marines secured the beachhead, and the army landed and pillaged their way to the Reverian colonial capital. We weren't around for the final battle, having been redirected to seize other colonies around the Ruined Sea, but I hear that Kazar ordered them slaughtered to the last pitiful cowering Human. A fitting end for daring to strike at us.

Skullchomper took the Scourge Fleet back to Cannor for the first time. It must truly have been terrifying sight, something the Humans had though long passed after Viakkoc's cowardly conversion. Our ships descended on the Humand ports and Gnomish cliff cities and devastated them with cannon and blade, and eked our revenge.

His ships returned to Aelantir laden with gold, with wealth enough to keep the fleet funded for years to come. Their colonies were permitted to remain under their control, with the knowledge that we could descend on them once again at any moment and ravage them once more.

Most of the money is going into setting up a new administration in the western isles of the Ruined Sea. The Blood Bringers are still running the show, and seem to need an ever-increasing supply of paper to manage the flow of their previous Demon's Blood. As long as they keep the doses coming for the troops, they can do what they want with the rest of the administration. Their latest scheme is trying to smuggle in a Cannorian printing press piece by piece to mass produce false manifests for their smugglers and production notes for their chemists.

This was a bad idea with such a terrible ruler, I'm starved of mana for the next 10 years as a result. I chose this province because I could stick a State House on it with double effect thanks to the Gems, but in hindsight I should probably have devved up something in my capital state instead.

After earning our share of the plunder, we were diverted back to crushing those who tried to oppose our rule. While my marines were diverted to Kheionai to retake islands that had been seized by local pirates, the regulars were sent to guard the Bone Citadel from angry natives. They consider it the centre of their religion, and have been regularly rioting against the Kult's work. Their religion is an interesting one, and would fit well into the Kult, but our priests are far too impatient and have ordered the natives driven back into the jungles.

The mission tree requires us to have the correct culture/religion in this province, and the Kult isn't going to be converting non-Gnolls the normal way any time soon.

An unusual message has gone out among the captains. The remnants of the Gnomish Hierarchy put out a bounty on the Reverian flagship, so we are to be on the lookout for a chance to snatch or sink it. I didn't even know we were accepting contracts from the landlubbers, but apparently some of them are willing to use us as a proxy in their own conflicts.

We'll rarely hit that bonus for a flagship, but getting bonus prestige and capture chance is always nice.

The Bone Citadel has become another major hub for Demon's Blood. The lands around them abound with followers of both the Cannorian and native gods of death, ready to be turned into proper demon worshippers with just the right push.

A mass sacrifice was held at the Bone Citadel to celebrate the acquisition and desecration of the enormous temple. I am told it was revelry of incredible proportions, elevated even higher by the free flow of massive quantities of Demon's Blood. I can only take my rationed dose and dream of the heat and blood, as we are shipped from one end of the continent to the other putting down slave rebellions.

You really build up sacrifices with so many coasts to raid. We ended up with over one hundred built up over the past few decades, which instantly boosted us to 100 demonic power and 100% Kult influence.

Passing through the Torn Sea once again to crush rebels on Vanburia, a deep red comet illuminated the sky. Many of the crew and marines lost in a haze of visions cried out and cowered in the face of a demonic claw scratching at the sky, but I see it for what it really is. An omen that blood will be spilled. Whose blood, remains the question.

It is not just the slave populations who are restive. The common Gnoll itches for violence, whether as a result of too much Demon's Blood, getting a kicking from drunk and angry sailors, or feeling the pinch of being taxed while earning none of the treasure that we warriors do. The Kult and Blood Bringers have their ambitions, and who knows what will happen if they no longer align with the will of the Grand Admiral.

For now, they are in tandem. They seek to strike at the Elves who have claimed a place on Noruin, having subjugated the Humans who drove them off in the first place. The priests have blessed their weapons with hellfire, and provided the warriors with enough doses of Demon's Blood to carry them from the coast to the Cliffs of Ruin. Most of this war will be fought inland by the army, my marines will just need to secure the beachhead. We will not be left behind though, there will be plenty of opportunities for raiding the Elven islands scattered around.

My suggestions for the creation of a proper marine corps have finally been accepted by the Grand Admiral. I have been elevated to the rank of Captain, equal to any other in the Scourge Fleet, and the authority to recruit to the marine corps instead of the regulars. It's more than I expected, as I could raise an army capable of overthrowing the Scourge Fleet, but I am loyal to the ideals of Mykx. If I were to do so, it would only be for the good of the Fleet.

The Kult have finally begun proper restoration efforts on the Bone Citadel, having brought in an army of Dwarven slaves from the islands. If nothing else, this will keep them busy for a long while yet.

We returned to Kheionai to clear rebels from the islands. A detachment of raiders regularly ravages the coastlines of the region and have gained a decent understanding of the deadly winds in the region. With the help of local slaves and a few Kult priests who understand the whims of the ocean winds they will be able to tell us when we can launch another campaign safely.

In Cannor, the Corintide is victorious. It is only to be expected, a warrior goddess capable of stopping an invasion on par with a Xhaz ought to have no problem claiming rule over a mighty pantheon. The Kult preaches against her, especially with many of our slaves following her, but I continue to hold respect for a strong warrior. Perhaps my soul might meet her in battle when Xhazob emerges to consume the world.

While we were on deployment there was a change of power back home. Thek is now in charge. Can't say I know much of him, but he has already clamped down on the rising internal conflicts. He has also made some bold proclamations that the Fleet needs to seek plunder further afield and not just raid the same pieces of coastline over and over again. It looks like we'll have some more major campaigns coming up.

He has already pulled out of the war with the elves after extracting monetary concessions. The war had dragged to a halt after the army failed to decisively defeat the Elven forces on the mainland, though the Elven capital was burned to the ground in the process so it was not all a disaster.

With the success of my marines and the failure of the army, Thek ordered them to be restructured more along our lines. More discipline, better organisation, a proper command structure. There will no doubt be grumbling, but they cannot stand against the Scourge Fleet so they will fall in line.

Exports to Trollsbay are ramping up as quickly as production can match, and the Kult have found a new goal in attempting to convert the slave population of the islands. Once, Gnolls were the only ones to hear Xhazob's whispers, but with Demon's Blood any race can feel the connection. I have seen members of weaker races who nonetheless have the strength to survive a pyre celevration, so perhaps they can join us in worship.

Upgrading the CoT to level 2 and building a marketplace gets us a level 3 Demon's Blood modifier, and later upgrading the CoT to level 3 will get us the level 4 Demon's Blood modifier.

Thek has much wider ambitions than his predecessor. As soon as news came that the deadly winds of Kheionai had turned away, the Scourge Fleet departed to ravage the region. We landed on the main island for the first time, marching on and laying siege to a mighty city guarded by magical wards that barred our entrance. Such magic was no match for the power of hellfire. The Scourge Fleet blasted open a path for us and we marched inside. The city had not been sacked for centuries, and there was enough treasure for every Gnoll to return laden with an unimaginable amount of plunder, and enough slaves to carry it for them.

There was no intention to actually take the city in the region, but rather more of the islands to extend the reach of the raiders assigned to the region and give them more safe harbours from the death winds.

The plunder from Kheionai was enough to fund the beginning of the work on the Bone Citadel. It was impressive to see as we arrived escorting resources and slaves to the construction effort, the massive ziggurat swarming with dwarves working to carve the bones that make up its structure into the proper emblems of Xhazob and his host. The growing port beneath it was also impressive, but more of the quality and quantity of Demon's Blood flowing through its merchants.

One major issue is that every time we go abroad to fight, we effectively abandon several of the outlying islands to local rebels. There are not enough Gnolls in Aelantir to patrol every region that contains restive populations, and while my marines can easily be shipped to any battlefield, we can't be in two places at once. And yet, Thek demands that we continue expanding our reach.

After many delays the Blood Bringers have their printing press up and running. Now every time we dock in port, we get deluged in advertising flyers proclaiming that this or that brand of Demon's Blood is the best. There are upsides. I have commissioned training manuals to be distributed to my marines. Getting even the lowliest and feeblest Gnoll to the same level of understanding will be valuable, although still nothing beats being blooded in battle.

Beyond procedures for boarding actions, landings, and profiles of the races that we might face in battle, one thing that I have focused on in the manuals is the use of firearms. Guns are more common than they were in Mykx' day, and we have to be ready to use them ourselves. Heavy musketoons, short-barrelled and very powerful, are finding increasing use and replacing the ramshackle hand-culverins that were in use previously.

In between campaigns, Thek has been pushing back against the Kult. He seems a bit more sceptical of the idea of bringing other races into the Kult, and without his backing the Kult is having trouble with their conversion experiment on Ilzin Isobel.

Our ability to convert relies on the Kult being in charge and having an inquisitor advisor. To consistently convert we absolutely need religious ideas.

After putting down a multitude of rebellions, we are on the offensive again, this time to the far north-west of Aelantir where another native civilization dwells. Our Vanbury collaborators say that this region is rich in Precursor relics, which will fetch a pretty price for Cannorian collectors. That is reason enough to secure a base in the region and begin raiding them.

Disaster. After securing one of the outlying islands to use as a base, the Grand Admiral ordered the Scourge Fleet onwards without waiting a moment to resupply and conduct repairs after the long voyage. The native fleet, stronger than we had expected from such primitives, emerged from port and caught Thek off guard. I watched from further back in the fleet as the Salt Tower caught a cannon shot in its powder stores and exploded. The Grand Admiral and Mykx's flagship, gone in a fit of hubris.

Besides losing my Admiral, the reason this battle was lost was because I got overconfident and let my heavy ships sit in water that wasn't adjacent to an owned port. Because we were so far away from the core ports, attrition stacked really high and most of the ships went into this battle on 20%ish health.

The rest of the fleet was reeling, but I took command, using my marines to put down any insubordination, and ordered us to turn around and end this overextended campaign. It was not something that I ever intended, but by the time we made it back to the island of Lismel, the captains were proclaiming me as the new Grand Admiral.

We were able to hold the island from their counterattack and claim it as our own, but it was clear now that the era of easy victories had passed. We were stretched too far, even primitive civilizations are mounting fleets that can challenge us, and the eyes of Cannor are increasingly turning westwards. By the time I return to Ilzin Mykx, I need to have decided on our approach.

To be continued…

Vote

With many challenges arising, the Gnolls of Mykx need to clarify their direction and prepare to meet the approaching new century. The fourth idea group will soon be open, giving a chance to mould the nation further.

Religious – Demon's Blood is a powerful tool, and with investment could be used to spread Xhazob's grasp around the world. Imagine Gnolls, Orcs, Humans, and all other races enraptured and dancing together in pits of blood and fire.
Economic – The economy is still highly reliant on raiding and war plunder to survive. A little bit of theoretical work and reorganisation could forge a strong foundation, allowing the plunder to go towards bigger things.
Influence – The nations of Aelantir are blossoming, and in future might have the strength to stand against us. Bringing some of them to heel will give us weapons to fight wars on the mainland.
Maritime – The Marine Corps has proven highly effective, and the Fleet is the core of the nation, so both should be further elevated.
Quality – Gnolls are still the greatest warriors and sailors in the world, and can only grow stronger as their 'enhancements' are further refined.
Offensive – We win through furious aggression, and this should be reflected in our military policy.

Vote below by clicking on the image. Vote for up to two options, but only one will be selected. Second and third place will get a guaranteed slot in the next vote.


Voting closes in 48 hours

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Eleven: Faith in Blood
1590-1608

Applicant Chambers, the Bone Citadel, 1602

The halls of the Bone Citadel carried sound well, but intermittently. Towering archways made from the ribs of strange extinct creatures marked out individual sectors. Walls lined with the skulls of fifteen hundred years of Elven sacrifices, and one hundred years of Kult sacrifices, let through the sounds of the chambers beyond. Screams of terror, moans of despair, and cries of joyous connection peaked and dipped as the Kult priests walked their nightly routes.

Dokk, the most senior of the group, tapped his staff, and brought them to a stop. Their first visit.

"Visions of desecration," Anzah said, reading from her notes, "applicants are Orcs of the Corintide."

"Fed with most intense Demon's Blood," Dokk said, his grin wide enough that his teeth lit up the hallway almost as much as the torches lining the walls.

He inserted his staff into the door, and twisted it with all of his strength to work the lock. The priests were the only ones who could open up these chambers. They had been built to hold anybody, no matter how warped by demonic energy they grew or how much they were willing to destroy their body to escape. In this case, they could hear the whimpering of the inhabitant of the room through the walls so it was safe for them to enter.

Within the room, there were two Orcs. One Orc really, the other was in a heap with their throat ripped open. The survivor was curled up against wall in a foetal position, looking like a freshly born cub that was not going to survive the attention of its siblings. His head was up, and locked onto the main adornment of the room.

During a raid of a Corinite vessel, the crew had seized a massive portrait of Corin and had much fun desecrating it. Now it stood as an insult to anyone who considered the Human woman a worthy warrior. Eventually it came into the Kult's possession, and someone had the brilliant idea of discovering exactly what someone seeing through demonic eyes made of the painting.

Anzah bounded into the room, quill at the ready to take notes. She crouched down by the Orc, who still refused to make eye contact with anything besides the torn scribble eyes of the Corin painting.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"She's eating him," the Orc managed to get out, "and then she's going to eat me."

The priests looked at the painting, which loomed over the second Orc's corpse. It wasn't moving to their eyes, but who knew what demonic possession the crew's desecration had invited to it.

"She's eating Dookanson," the Orc continued to ramble, "she's eating Adean, and his blood, his blood's in the water."

"The only way a Human might achieve what Corin did is through the patronage of the demonic host," Dokk said, punctuating his statement with a slam of his staff, "consider that, and more will come to light."
He placed a mug of Demon's Blood solution on the room's sole furnishing, a stone bed, let Anzah finishing taking notes, and then left and sealed it again to leave the Orc with his demons.

"Do you think he tore out the other Orc's throat? He didn't have any blood on him," Anzah asked as she hurriedly sorted her notes for their next stop.

"It's most likely. A manifestation of evil would be an impressive feat from an Orc," Dokk said. He tapped his staff with one claw thoughtfully as they walked. "But with the presence of the painting, such a vivid desecration, it could be possible. With that opposing his devotion for Corin, twisted further by Demon's Blood, the barrier keeping his soul from the Pits would be paper thin."

Anzah nodded and took even more notes, leaving her arms full of paper that needed organising before the next room, which was one that would demand even more of her attention.

"Hellfire artificery," she noted, "Reverian Humans and Gnomes."

The door opened and Dokk immediately had to shield himself as a flicker of green flame burst from the room.

"Come on! I can take it!" a Human yelled, back against a wall on one side of the room. He bounced up and down, his clothes nearly rags on him and his flesh and angry red wherever it wasn't blackened and burned. The other Humans were piled up in a corner, some probably dead and others groaning and staring at the ceiling.

"Forty third shot! I call upon Kentryn!" a squeaky Gnome called out from the other side of the room.

She raised a contraption that had been assembled from metal and bone and launched a ball of green fire. Somehow, this did not burn the man but caught his clothes alight. He half-screamed, half-yelled in excitement, and began rolling around the floor.

"Fascinating, the demon of Envy only takes what he has but does not harm his flesh," the Gnome said. She sniffed, rubbed the little smear of powder below her nose, then took out a bone needle and scratched some symbols onto the wall.

"We have to compare notes!" Anzah chirped, almost as squeaky with excitement as the Gnome in front of her. The two of them quickly started jabbering at each other in the way that young mad scientists could.

Dokk walked over to the Human, who had put out the flames at the expense of most of his remaining clothes and was now collapsed on the floor. He withdrew a pinch of Demon's Blood from his pouch and rubbed it under the man's nose, before taking a step back.

A moment later, the man shot to his feet, his eyes wide and a canine grin on his face.

"Okay, next, next! Come on, I can take another!" he shouted.

A similar grin sprouted on Dokk's face, and he tapped his claws on the man's shoulder. The Human's attention was finally drawn to him, and his face switched rapidly between shock, terror and excitement. Who knew exactly how a demonic priest looked to those burning with Demon's Blood.

"How would you like to participate in your very first pyre?" Dokk asked. When the man nodded enthusiastically, he continued, "bring the sacrifices to the lower chamber."

Dokk pointed at the Humans sprawled out nearby. A flash of recognition crossed the man's face for a moment, before it was lost in his manic devotion and he eagerly walked over and grabbed two of his former comrades. He was able to hold two other adults despite the sorry state of his body, which made Dokk ponder whether he had gained some kind of gift from the dark masters, or if the drug had just removed all sense of pain and stress.

It wasn't yet perfect, there were too many failures. Fifty percent in the last case, more in this case, but it was now clearly true that other races could enjoy life in the way that only a Gnoll could.

Excerpts from the journal of Agga, Priestess of Forzzra, attached to the Scourge Fleet

We landed on Lismel, wounded and weary. The Grand Admiral, cursed by Forzzra with power and ambition, ordered us to set sail for Ilzin Mykx once again, no matter how many needed treatment. The blood of those who would not survive was offered to Xhazob's host in exchange for favourable winds. As the ranking surviving priestess, it fell to me to make the offering to the ocean.

While watching their shouting and begging figures tumble over the side of the damaged fleet, the Grand Admiral approached me. She had been thinking that the Fleet needed to be bolstered further, needed even tighter discipline and more funding, and asked me for whatever readings I could glean from the Pit. Looking inwards, I could only see fire, spreading across land and water alike. She dismissed me and returned to her cabin.

Upon our return, with Kzryl's hot breath filling our sails and carrying us home, she began to work. As an infantry captain, many of the other captains did not accept her authority, but her marines took control quickly. She established a cadet academy on Graxilzin, close to Ilzin Mykx, and began filling it with loyal marines that she wished to elevate to captaincy.

She also sought to replace what was lost, by building a mighty flagship to replace the Mykx' Salt Tower. The Salt Citadel was loaded to the brim with weapons, intended to be able to defeat any other single warship in battle and support her marines in their landings. Discontent among the other captains continued to rise, as they saw this as a further focus on the marines who held her absolute loyalty.

Another captain, named Ik, approached me. She asked me the same question Szura had; did the demons support what she was doing. Her ambition radiated off of her, and I could feel Forzzra's burning eyes at her back. My vision also beheld fire, but Ik was willing to listen.

The premonition came true in the most spectacular fashion upon Izlin Pirendral. I was sailing with a squadron commanded by Ik to raid the Ravenous Isle, when one night a streak of blue fire crossed the sky and impacted in a blast that lit an inferno covering a quarter of the island. A gift from the host, a source of magical power that can bolster the demonic gifts that we receive. We immediately went ashore to take some of its strength unto ourselves.

Firey doom had come to the settlement on the island, and as we picked through the rubble on our way to the impact crater, we encountered a group of Orcs. Their bodies flickered with internal hellfire, and their eyes were as deep and black as any Gnolls. Their hands were coated in powdered Demon's Blood. They knelt before me and denounced their Human goddess, proclaiming that they had seen into the darkness and found true power there. We eagerly added them to our retinue.

When we returned to Ilzin Mykx, our Orcish and Gnollish warriors drove Szura from the Grand Admiral's citadel and installed Ik into power. She proclaimed that the republic owed everything to Xhazob, and that all inhabitants, from the mightiest captain to the lowliest slave, ought to give their devotion to the host.

This was not rigged in any way, just a very lucky coincidence after Religious won the last vote.

The Blood Bringers were brought before the Grand Admiral and the priests of the Kult, myself included. There, we displayed to them the Orcish converts and instructed the smugglers to increase the strength of their product. The deeper and more intense the demonic visions it granted, the closer the user would be brought to the truth. One day the sacrifices might walk themselves into the pyres, their faith so strong, and slaves of every race will toil with fervour for Mykx.

Szura was not killed, nor were her marines purged. They were simply too focused on material matters, advancing their own power and not considering that the reason Thek failed was because he disparaged the Kult and thought he could conquer the world without the aid of those we speak for. Xhazob is always watching. Szura was sent into exile on ships crewed by those who refused to acknowledge the new Grand Admiral. She will sail distant lands, finding new ports to deliver Demon's Blood into, until the day she dies.

Demon's Blood does not always have the intended result. Faced with visitations from the darkest reaches of existence, they turn to strange beings. Not the gods of Cannor, nor the demons of the host, but monsters from beyond the furthest skies and beneath the deepest caves. Monsters that whisper and transform, much like the host, but claim no relation. The Leechdens seem to host the most of these cults, and our priests claim to be struggling to convince their members that the voices they are hearing are actually Xhazob's.

There is a sub-mod (that I am not running) that goes into more detail on the Leechdens. It gets…interesting.

While our initial attack on Eordand was repulsed, we cannot let their lands go unravaged. North of their lands are islands that spend half the year encased in ice, but hold a few coves that raiders can wait out the winter in. Our furriest warriors have arrived to drive out the few natives and establish hellfire beacons that may strike terror into those who once defeated us.

With none of their cities safe, their fortunes in Precursor relics are ours for the plunder. Many Cannorians are eager to purchase them from us, at a steep markup of course, and we are happy to take their money and funnel it into the weapons and drugs that will destroy them.

There is also a similar mission for Kheionai, which I completed but didn't screenshot.

At home, debates rage on the direction of the Kult. Some denounce the Blood Bringers as merely in it for the profit, others refuse to allow other races participate in our rituals. I replied to them: my patron is Forzzra. He desires everything, be it wealth, converts, or flesh. The Blood Bringers are doing his work, taking the money of the landlubbers and passing the demonic gift into their blood.

Another debate is whether to move the Everpyre to the Bone Citadel. This was a more material question, as angry natives and vengeful Cannorians still surround the Citadel. However, I fall on the side of keeping it on Graxarr for theological reasons. It ought to stand at the centre of the great crater that Xhazob carved from the Precursors, not at its perimeter.

Mechanically a second Everpyre just means a minor boost to demonic power at the cost of extra maintenance. Not really worth it, so we keep one and in the more defensible location.

Unlike those who would neglect the Kult, we know not to neglect the Fleet. Ik has paid for a complete rebuild of the Scourge Fleet to match the Cannorian galleons now moving through our waters. The effort has filled up the shipyards for years, though it will be worth it to deliver hellfire upon our enemies with greater effect.

Szura has travelled the world and returned charts and maps of trade lanes, and samples of Demon's Blood can now be found in ports from Cannor to Haless. As the rest of the world opens up to trade, so will tendrils of Xhazob's influence, until the whole world knows our scourge.

A group of supposed intellectuals had the brilliant idea of trying to infiltrate Vanburia to preach about some warbling Precursor cube that they consider the voice of a god. No matter how smart they consider themselves, they all work the same when in chains.

The Leechdens is a vital part of our efforts, being the source of Demon's Blood, but is increasingly at risk as Reverian colonists close around them. A heavily fortified bastion is under construction on one of the islands guarding the safe channels through the marsh, its foundations sunk deep into the mud of the Mznyr-cursed place. If it is invaded, the Scourge Fleet should be able to break through any blockade and deliver relief directly to the defenders.

The days of Cannor ignoring us are soon passing. With the growth of Reverian territory, and the Lorentish invasion of Endralliande the old-world powers are getting increasing large stakes in our Xhazob-granted dominion. The Elves are holding off Lorent at sea, but one of their largest territories has fallen.

There is much discontent among the other captains that Ik favours the Kult too much. She reassured them that the Grand Admiral remains the supreme force in the land, and each captain is still the lord of their own vessel. The Kult merely has a place at the Grand Admiral's side, advisors but not rulers, to make sure that the admiralty does not stray too far from the Pits.

Our priests are trained and loaded with barrels full of Demon's Blood. The inhabitants of Ilzin Isobel are a captive audience. Forzzra drives us to bring the darkness of Xhazob to all under the hellfire whip. Already countless slaves have flocked to our temples, eagerly spending their nights lost in burning nightmares after long days of toil. Many of the former upper class continue to resist, but they cannot last forever.

The Elves were an easy target, their attention distracted by invasion from across the ocean. Our warriors landed in the face of hundreds of cannons, and fuelled by the burning blood pulsing through their body they charged through steel and fire to ravage the expensive Elven artillery.

However, the invasion was withdrawn as news came of Reverian forces invading the Leechdens. With far more presence in Aelantir they think themselves strong enough to take us on. Our armies are fuelled by the bottomless pits and funded by the gold plundered from arrogant Elven cities, and the Fleet is stronger than ever. With our eyes upon them they have no chance.

Though the other powers within the republic might fear us, the common Gnoll loves us. We have brought them wealth, brought them a bounty of powder, and secured their souls a direct path into the bellies of the greatest lords of the host. The pyres burn brighter than they ever have since Mykx landed, and we stand as the foremost power in Aelantir.

Why do they believe they can stand against us? Our landing on the Ravenous Isle was opposed by a squadron of Reverian frigates lead by a galleon. When the Scourge Fleet approached, the Humans unleashed a barrage of Gnomish inventions against our battle line. Admiral Kelzeth, granted a great understanding of winds and currents by his patron, swung around and evaded every trick and gadget they mustered and rammed his galleons directly into their frigates despite their better mobility. Now barrels of mysterious devices fill his holds, and will soon be distributed around Mykx as trinkets and trophies.

The war has given us reason to push out into the Ocean of the Lost, where galleons filled with riches from the frozen north ply their way to warmer waters before crossing the vast ocean. Gold fills our pockets, and strange artefacts are passed to Kult priests to be charged with demonic energy. Some of our captives claim them to be from beyond the stars, found within the Pillar of the Heavens that lies close to the northern coast.

I'm slightly confused as to how this is happening. North Pearls is in the very north of Aelantir, sending Treasure Fleets to Pearlsedge, just east of Lorent. We don't have any pirates along that route. Not that I'm complaining.

Our distant cousins, now oppressed under the heel of the weak and merciful goddess Corin, are still able to provide us information on the situation in Cannor. The Corintide, Orcs fuelled by blood and devotion, has claimed all of the Escann region, and continues to batter against the edges of the Human and Elven Empire. Most of them have also submitted to Corin, making Lorent and Reveria the only major holdouts of their old pantheon. Meanwhile, in the mountains, a dark empire has emerged from the depths and threatens to take the surface too. An interesting enemy, should we ever come to blows. The land versus the ocean.

Looks like the Obsidian Invasion and Greentide both succeeded in the end.

Ik got too close to one of the mysterious relics. When she took one as a trophy and opened it too close to her face it released a gas that melted her skin and had her coughing up blood until she ultimately drowned in it. Truly devious, and worthy tools for the Kult. Kelzeth has taken charge, and began preparations to end the war by once again plundering the Reverian homeland.

He is not an enemy of the Kult, and while he does not match Ik's zeal, he does give us our deserved respect. Before his departure he authorized further expansion of the Bone Citadel. The mighty skeletal fortress, having been denied becoming the Everpyre, has become our main research and distribution hub for Demon's Blood, and is now filled with eager cultists of all races yearning for a closer connection to Xhazob through its consumption.

As expected, none could match the Scourge Fleet. Their armies cowered on land while Kelzeth ravaged their coastline. The whispers tell me that this will not be the last time, for Reveria's colonies, though plundered, remain fully intact so they may find the courage to attack again in future.

Some explorers were captured as the Fleet departed Cannor. They spoke of a city carved into a massive Damestear meteorite, inland far to the south. Much like the Pillar of the Heavens, it has been marked as a location worthy of plunder for future generations, once Aelantir is under our demonic thrall.

Lorent's campaign ended with most of the Elven lands in the Banished Isles coming under their control. The juggernaut of Cannor is building its strength, so we must build ours faster.

And how better to build our strength, than by bringing more into the fold. The great experiment is successful, and thousands of Humans now praise the names of the host. A pyre was held on Ilzin Isobel, and for the first time Humans, Orcs and Gnolls mixed amongst one another in celebration. Blood was spilled, the weaker races died in greater numbers, but an exuberant time was had by all and the survivors are stronger for it. Now, the real work can begin.

To be continued…

Putting vote results here at the bottom:

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Twelve: Exports Open
1608-1626

Inner District, Mykx City, Ilzin Mykx, 1611

Brick and scaffolding loomed high, leaning and creaking inwards as though any moment the street would collapse in on itself. The ground itself was hard packed dirt. Someone a few decades ago had the sense to try to pave it, but years of the relentless growth of Mykx City had left roads like this in the dust, literally. Storefronts were painted up in green and decked in gold, selling treasures from across Aelantir at some markup or offering hits of supposed higher quality Demon's Blood to the desperate.

Kozmar kept his head down and ignored it, holding tightly onto his bag of papers. He knew well the real value of things, and wasn't about to get dragged into a scam or burn his heart out with powder that had been cut with something unsavoury.

Even this early in the morning the streets were packed. Slaves carried goods up from the Grand Harbour, sailors still loaded up with booze and blood wandered the streets singing shanties and hassling civilians, and Kult adherents lurked in dark corners, their eyes lit with inner fire. Just don't make eye contact with the zealots and show the proper deference to the Fleet, and you could make it through safely.

"Hey, shrimp!" a voice said, followed by a few cackling laughs.

Why today?

A sailor strode through the crowd and puffed himself up, barring the path for Kozmar. A train of slaves carrying buckets of fruit was on one side, and a set of stalls filled with fake golden trinkets was on the other, blocking him from going around the other Gnoll.

"How can I help?" Kozmar asked.

There was a hoot of laughter from nearby. Through the moving bodies, Kozmar could see a collection of sailors hanging out under a canopy. They were mostly females, and all larger than the one before him. So, it was some dominance play. If this guy couldn't beat any of his comrades, he'd pick on the next smallest. Not that Kozmar was small, but he was just a clerk, not a warrior who fought every day.

"I can carry that bag for you," the sailor said, extending a claw to hook under the strap.

With one hand Kozmar batted away the sailor's arm and with the other he dipped into one of his pockets.

"Don't touch the paper," he said, a snarl in his throat.

The sailor seemed almost shocked that Kozmar would fight back, and Kozmar himself almost shocked himself with his ferocity. But he was very protective of his work, even if for no other reason than he would rather take a punch to the snout than have to write out days' worth of paperwork all over again. A Gnollish clerk was still a Gnoll.

"Don't touch me, landlubber" the sailor snapped back, teeth bared. His hand slipped around the dagger at his belt and drew it with a deliberately loud 'shing'.

Kozmar took his hand from his pocket and immediately shoved it up his nose. The sounds and sights around him exploded and unfolded as demonic perception rushed through his senses. The clarity was perfect for surviving a long day at a desk, but it would work in fight too. A bit of a waste of good money and product to use it on the streets, but he didn't want to be stabbed.

The dagger came at him, and he batted it away with his elbow, not minding as it cut into the flesh of his arm. Burning blood pumping through his veins would see the wound closed almost as soon as the blade was removed. That said, it would mutate him ever so slightly, which is why he took the blow on his arm and not his hands. He didn't want end up unable to hold a pen.

With his free hand he delivered a punch that made his muscles ache, and a moment later the bag, as heavy as a child with the amount of paper it held, slammed into the side of the sailor's head. He went reeling, and his dagger dropped from his hands.

Kozmar stepped past him and kept going, not looking back. His enhanced senses were picking up the hooting derision of the sailor's crewmates, and the sailor cursing and moaning while cradling a possibly broken jaw. A little bit of bravery powder had gone a long way, but he just wanted to get to work, not get into a fight to the death in the middle of the streets. Other instincts were taking back control as he picked up his pace.

The crowd closed around him, cutting him off from his assailant. Little brawls like this were happening by the dozens. Just one of the facts of life in the overcrowded capital.

His office was one of the better constructed buildings in the city. Built with brick and stone and adorned with jewels and gold, real treasures this time, and sat in front of a plaza that had actual trees growing in it, it was the centre of the local administration for the Blood Bringers. Here, the bosses would control distribution throughout the city and manage some portion of the overwhelming intricate trade and smuggling networks than ran out of the Grand Harbour.

"Meetings on, you're late," one of the guards at the door grunted.

"Thanks," Kozmar snapped with every ounce of spite he could muster. His heart was still pounding from the small dose running through his body.

The interior was chaos, but beautiful chaos. Shelves of paper sprang up everywhere, with scribe slaves balancing carefully on top of them as they fished out documents that needed updating. Clerks sat at their desks, their carved-out fiefdoms with their scribes arrayed around them. Despite all this, Kozmar knew exactly where everything would be. Smuggler manifests were with Lerlam, local dealer licenses were tracked by Uc, Kult liaisons were Brurr's responsibility. Now, getting those details was a pain and a half, but that's what his slaves were for.

A central staircase emerged from the chaos, and he managed to slip through and climb up without getting waylaid by someone demanding something from him.

Upstairs was far less busy. The bosses didn't want slaves and clerks running under their feet while they plotted and partied. Huge carved wooden doors, literally ripped from some Cannorian settler mansion, loomed over him as he stood in the foyer of the main conference room. Inside there would be several of the bosses, who would not want him to wate their time, and several other clerks who would be looking for any way to undermine him and improve their own standing.

Once again, he reached into his pocket and took a good dose of Demon's Blood. His senses spun up again and he pulled out the correct document from his bag on his first attempt. He wasn't a warrior, but that didn't mean he didn't fight. For the wealth and power of Mykx, even for those who didn't appreciate the work he did.

Excerpts from the journal of Kozmar, clerk for the Blood Bringers

Paperwork, more paperwork. The Kult is organising a mass conversion campaign across the Human inhabited islands, and have gotten the Grand Admiral to divert some of his effort towards that goal. Whereas before Vanburia and Silsensald were just slave outposts, we now have to deal with a whole administration there, and in my case quadruple the Demon's Blood exports to the regions. There are a lot of dealers out there who are not going to be happy that their supplies are being diverted.

I should have been doing this earlier. It's not something I normally do until I have run out of government reforms to enact, but considering the cap is the biggest limiting factor at this moment it makes sense to delay reforms a little.

One of the marine commandants was caught trying to hoard their stash and got themselves thrown onto a pyre. It's all hands-on deck for bringing the Humans into the fold. As the one who runs the numbers, I think my taking a little powder off the top should be fine.

Just finished processing a new batch of slaves. The Fleet caught out a whole convoy of Cannorian slavers, and captured their cargo more or less intact. The Grand Admiral gave them an option to convert or return to chains, and a number of them, perhaps after tasting what we had to offer, chose to convert.

So now we have a bunch of Orcs bolstering our army, and some even joining the marines. I'm not one for blood, at least not of red variety, so the more would-be slaves fill the ranks the less likely I'm going to get drafted. The Grand Admiral's orders for more cannons and ammunition are a bigger pain. We don't have much manufacturing of that stuff ourselves, so now the Fleet is going to be mad when their guns are redirected.

The numbers in brackets show how much we are building up the army. It's getting to the point where fire damage kicks off, so if nothing else we need it to give the frontlines a boost so they can survive to the shock phase.

Szura, the Admiral who lasted less than three years, had made it her life's goal in exile to completely encircle the globe. Well, she didn't make it. Instead, the Reverians did. For a bunch of Humans and Gnomes who keep getting kicked by us, they sure don't give up.

The offer given to those slaves seems to be a general policy now. Outcasts, exiles, criminals, whatever their reason or their race we are starting to accept non-Gnolls into free roles within the nation. The first requirement of their freedom is a good huff of Xhazob's best powder, followed by blooding in a pyre. Not all survive, and some get cold feet and have to be seized and chained, but enough are enamoured by the tales of the might of the Scourge Fleet to dive right into the excitement.

The more I hear about the Bone Citadel the less I want to visit there. Now, I know Xhazob will eat my soul when I die, and I listen to what he speaks when I'm under the influence, but I don't see any need to throw myself into whatever mad experiments they have going on there. The halls are supposedly filled with rampaging possessed, and minor demons fly freely. The Kult want to invest even more, and have claimed to have been offered a mighty ship to tempt the Grand Admiral to divert the national hoard into their zealous projects.

If we are going to fund the Kult, we need new markets for Demon's Blood. Trollsbay is almost saturated at this point, and internal markets are just moving our own money around. I sent a note to one of the bosses, pointing out the potential of the Ynn Plateau, if we could access to the river. Sure, there's a giant waterfall between the plateau and Trollsbay, but that's a job for the Cannorian settlers to work out. Anyway, a few weeks after sending my report, the Fleet was suddenly dispatched to secure Ynnsmouth. Coincidence, or do I have someone's ear?

Between the guns of the fleet and the guns of the army, I doubt the locals would have much of a chance. They have the backing of the Cannorian Elves, but the marines can secure a landing point and let the army disgorge itself onto land before they can respond.

With the flagship, the ideas and the age bonus we get a nice bonus to coastal sieges.

While there's a military battle ongoing in Noruin, I'm fighting an economic battle. There's competition in the market of highly addictive stimulants, and this 'Dark Beverage' is both cheaper to produce and less tainted by association with us. That doesn't mean we need to start burning piles of beans though, I have suggested that our smugglers offer both. Start with a few mugs of Dark, and if you still need to stay awake how about a little sniff of the green.

Having naval dominance is a huge bonus for us. While the Elves trudge west to try and liberate Ynnsmouth, our fleet has turned east and dropped a contingent of marines in the Sella estuary. Taking the Elven capital at the mouth of the river would be another big win, as it would give our smugglers access to the river that runs all the way across the Elven territory in Noruin.

One thing I have to take into account is Demon's Blood riling up the crews and given them ideas. The demons are fickle, and would love to see our ships descend into chaos. Crews need appropriate doses to keep them awake and active, and keep their thoughts focused on flesh and treasure rather than collaborating against their captain.

Ilzin Isobel has become the main distribution centre for Demon's Blood, so my office has been moved here. It is pretty crazy to imagine that at one time smugglers had to sneak into the port under cover of darkness, because now the docks beneath the fortress are filled with ships that are openly loading barrels and crate aplenty, all with false manifests and bound for the settler states on the mainland or as far away as Cannor.

Corinite pamphlets continue to find their way among our slaves, and while words on paper can't match up to the magic of an addictive substance, they are a good way of keeping up with news from Cannor. The latest one contained a proclamation from Viakkoc, declaring that we, of Mykx, must be destroyed for our crimes. Apparently having suffered further defeats, I do not know what he plans to do about it.

As more and more product gets moved there are more and more opportunities for graft. I've been keeping things small-scale, but I've run into evidence that the Grand Admiral is siphoning off far more than his share, and far too much to keep things under wraps. I've passed it up to the bosses to do something about before the Kult finds out and starts looking too closely at my books.

The war was coming to a close, with the coastline completely secure and the Elves backed up against the Cliffs of Ruin. In the shadow of those enormous crater cliffs, the bosses nudged Kelzeth to lead the final charge against the Elves. Terrified and exhausted, the Elves fell apart with only a few Gnolls fallen, but the Grand Admiral managed to find himself among the bodies.

Vierha has taken charge, and she is far more interested in conquest and plunder than scraping off the top of the economy. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Some Gnolls need to take what they can get. It's just not fitting for a Grand Admiral, is all.

The Sella estuary is ours, which means I have to draw up distribution plans for the whole of Noruin. These Elves, unlike the ones mixed in with the Humans in the other colonies, are very stuck up and resistant to the idea of polluting their bodies with something like Demon's Blood. I'll leave it to the bosses and the Kult to work out exactly how to get it into their veins.

Ynnsmouth too, though I don't think we'll be building up as much infrastructure there since everything is focused here on Ilzin Isobel. All the real work will be done by the smugglers getting the cargo up past the Cliffs and onto the Plateau beyond.

Slight problem. I didn't realise that you could only have one trading post per trade node, and since I already put one on Ilzin Isobel that I can't seem to remove, I can't complete the mission that requires a trading post on this province…I might just bypass it, the mission rewards aren't that notable.

Once again, the Reverians are back. Admiral Laadaa has already delivered a defeat to their fleet and sent them scurrying back to Cannor, but their colonies remain a thorn in the side of our armies. Funding is being increasingly allocated to fortify our more outlying ports so they can hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive in the event of more attacks like that.

Economies trundle on, regardless of war. While the Elves are not the most eager consumers, they did have a lot of trade relations with Cannor. By granting security to vessels that originally docked at the port of Sella in exchange for them giving up a little bit of cargo space, we can start delivering our product to Cannor in proper bulk.

Note to self to stay indoors at night. The Fleet is capturing so many vessels from the Reverians that they are struggling to fill them all with sailors. Any Gnoll that looks like they can handle a rope is being taken off the streets, loaded up with Demon's Blood, and thrown onto a ship. I suppose I should take it as sign the war is going well, at least.

As expected, the war ended with a load of plunder returning from Cannor, though I was not the only one to notice that there was far less treasure than before. The Humans are getting more cunning at defending their wealth from our marauders, and our administration isn't capable of taking the territory that we need to punish them any further than that.

I need to do something decisive, they are getting more entrenched in Aelantir and more stubborn in accepting peace, but I can't take territory from them without going over the governing cap and colonial nations can't be turned into vassals, though they may be other options in that regard.

Its never ending for the soldiers. As they finished with the Humans, they were reassigned to rooting out the cult that sprung up in the Leechdens. I guess the Kult had tolerated the competition for long enough. They were waiting for the Leechfather to emerge from the swamps, but he never came.

After that, straight into another campaign, though this one is much more in my area. A significant population of Humans, Gnomes and Goblins have settled in the Haraf region, just north-west of Vanburia, and we need proper distribution ports to make inroads with our product. Without the support of their homeland, they fell easily to the Scourge Fleet and its marines.

The campaign in the west cost Vierha her life, though I have no idea if that was chance or somebody's plot. None of my business either way. Grand Admiral Laadaa has big, and expensive, ideas about how our ports and cities should be constructed, which means more work for me to secure that funding. I can't say I disagree with her though; I don't know how many slaves I've seen crushed by the ramshackle constructions of the port outside my window. Perhaps it would save money in the end.

A major beneficiary of her spending has been the Kult, who finally get the completion of the Bone Citadel that they were asking for. We'll see if Xhazob holds up to his end of the bargain and delivers the warship we were promised.

Luckily Great Project upgrade cost isn't actually affected by construction cost. EU4's stats and modifiers pile-up working in our favour.

The western campaign continues regardless, with a goblin city in Haraf being prepared to become the next major distribution hub. They have contacts in distant Haless, which should allow us to begin making inroads in that area as well.

Demon's Blood is spreading around the world. Our smugglers have contacts in every port, and authorities are struggling to keep up. Even our legitimate exports are appearing in Cannorian markets, as consumers don't care if slave hands harvested their cotton or the money is passing through the hands of pirates. And the fleet loves it too, as more trade means more opportunity for piracy.

Vast quantities of wealth are pouring through our ports. Even Ilzin Isobel has been surpassed by Qithcel, our easternmost port, and Ricardsport, our westernmost (until the new conquests are built up to spec). I can only imagine how much money we will have access to if we start taking ports in the heart of wealthy Cannor and Haless. And how much paperwork that'll leave me with.

The Demon's Blood Export modifiers give bonus tax and stack with things that buff tax income, which is why there is such a range of results in income. Religion, culture, and tax buildings all matter. It's a bit counterintuitive compared to the official trade mechanics, as it means a fresh export port in the middle of Dameshead won't make much money, and that's part of why I've been not so subtlety pushing for religious ideas so we can make sure our ports give as much money as possible.

The bosses have authorized me to hire a bunch more clerks so that we can actually start getting a handle on things. We have the money to do it now, and from what I hear the Kult, the Fleet, and the Colonialists are all doing the same thing and ramping up their administrations. There's plans to build a full Naval Academy on Graxilzin, the Bone Citadel is almost complete, and the we will soon be able to start expanding in earnest. It's more work for me, but if I get paid more then I welcome it.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Thirteen: Battle for Ruin
1626-1643

The Galleon Salt Citadel, Trollsbay, 1634

"Starboard and a half, and give me full speed!" Arkez called, lowering the spyglass from his eye.

His voice was nearly drowned out by the roar of cannons both near and the splintering of wood. Another volley of viridescent shots blasted from their starboard guns, carving a line of destruction along the flank of their target. The last attack had knocked out their main mast, leaving them nearly immobilized. Perfect for a boarding action.

The entire galleon tilted as it turned hard towards its target. They were not completely lifeless, as a few cannon shots found their way back to the Salt Citadel, but the former flagship was tough. It could take a bit of damage.

On the deck, the Kult priests prepared a sacrifice. Three Human prisoners stacked on top of one another were sacrificed one after another, by a weather vane being driven down through their bodies. As their life drained into the deck, a gust of wind caught the sails and propelled the ship forward towards its target.

"Blades and bullets!" Arkez cried out. "Brace!"

The shout was echoed across the ship by his officers, and every Gnoll aboard responded with a roar that for a moment overwhelmed all other sounds of battle. Arkez drew his cutlass and gripped the banister as the enemy galleon loomed closer.

He was almost thrown from the aft castle when they impacted. The bow, reinforced specifically for this action, rammed straight into the other vessel, nearly tearing it open from deck to keel, before the sheer weight behind it caused the target to move and the bow to scrape across its entire starboard side, tearing away cannon mountings and anyone Human unfortunate to be manning them.

The first boarders were already moving before they had come to a stop, hooting and cackling as they leapt across ships. Snipers took position and began making potshots at anyone who looked important, while crew slaves began chucking grapples to bring the two ships properly side by side.

Arkez watched the slaughter unfold through his spyglass, while another Gnoll climbed up to the aft castle to stand beside him

"Admiral," Captain Vasga said, "not joining 'em?"

"This battle is too critical to lose myself in the bloodlust," he replied.

He spun around and took a look across the water. Dozens of warships were engaged in knife-fights with one another, blood and wood flying in equal measure as the Gnollish and Human fleets tore into one another. Galleons met in devastating exchanges of fire, frigates zipped and harried at the Scourge Fleet's wakes, an inexplicable squadron of galleys pinned one of his ships and fought a fierce hand-to-hand battle to capture it.

"Really, do we need orders right now?" Vasga asked. She had her own spyglass and was tracking his eyeline. "This is where we thrive. Grand Admiral's out there, too."

With a glare, Arkez lowered his eyeglass.

"I am still in overall command of the battle," he said, "the Grand Admiral has her hands full."

"Right now, or tonight?" Vasga asked. She let out a short hoot of laughter and pulled out a pouch of Demon's Blood. "If you want something to eat besides rations, come on over. I won't save anything for you."

With that, she stuffed a huge dose up her nose, howled to the demon's above, and bounded away to join her crew in tornado of blood they were brewing up.

Arkez took a dose himself, to clear his head and focus himself. There was still work to do, still orders to give out to the fleet. He stared up the clouds in the sky, watched them transform into faces that would terrify any being whose dreams weren't already haunted by demonic power. Whispers began to swirl around him, and he took them all in, mapping out the positioning of the fleet that they spoke to him.

"Incoming!" someone shouted.

A moment later, the aft castle exploded around him, showering him with wooden shards that tore at his flesh. With near impossible reflexes and the backing of demonic patronage he flung himself from the structure and down onto the deck to safety. Merely flesh wounds that would heal back stronger.

The whole ship shook as another volley hit them. A shot passed straight through the ruined aft castle and turned one of the Kult priests, and the pile of bodies they were attending to, into a fine red mist. One of the masts took a hit, creaking ominously, and shortly afterwards another shot ripped the sails apart.

A galleon, larger and heavier than either the Salt Citadel or their unfortunate victim, rounded from the aft and began to turn to line up for a full broadside against the presently immobile Gnollish vessel. The open guns ports yawned like a hundred hungry mouths, punishing Arkez for his overconfidence. It was the enemy flagship, the Favourite.

"Port cannons, load and ready!" he shouted, to only a few echoes transmitting his orders below decks. Most of the officers were enjoying their time in the boarding action, as were many of gunnery crews. Perhaps he ought to have taken his chances as well.

For a few tense minutes, made even worse by the heightened sense of time and reflex that Arkez was running on, the Favourite lined up the perfect broadside, while a few scattered shots from the Salt Citadel battered at its sides. Arkez stared down his looming destruction.

Then, a streak of fire like a comet shot in and splashed against the side of the Favourite with enough force to shatter ten cannon mountings and knock the whole vessel askew. Someone over there gave the order to fire, and the Salt Citadel was pounded by dozens of misaligned shots that tore apart the port side and sent Gnolls screaming into the churning water below, but were survivable. Arkez ignored the carnage beneath his feet and peered through his spyglass in the direction of the hellfire blast. At the sight, he could not help but let out a hoot of delight.

Looming towards them was a vessel of pitch-black wood and bone white sails. As the wind carried it towards them, the sounds of screams and laughter echoed through the air. Another couple of shots from the hellfire cannons mounted on the prow were enough to see the Favourite break off its attempt against Arkez' ship and turn to defend itself against the oncoming monstrosity.

"Mother Mykx," Arkez said. Flame and blood filled the air as the two sides clashed, and Mykx' spirit drove her descendants to victory.

Excerpts from the journal of Arkez 'the Deadly', Admiral of the Scourge Fleet

For years we have been fighting defensively, never leaving the Sea of Ruin for anything except a brief raid. The Blood Bringers want us to open up markets in Cannor, the Kult want us to go and liberate Viakkoc, but to do so we need to secure ports that will secure supply routes back to Cannor. It is interesting to contemplate, and I wonder if Mykx ever believed we would return in such a fashion.

We have crushed the Reverian fleet once again, leaving the fight to the army and the marines down in the Leechdens. The Grand Admiral has insisted that we do something about their presence in Aelantir, as they insist on constantly striking at us. If nothing else the constant disruption to the flow of Demon's Blood puts the entire economy at risk. The army has been ordered to cross the jungle and raze their local administration.

The wars we fight in the jungle are nothing compared to the grand battles that take place in the interior of continents like Haless. The supposed mighty warrior monks of the One Xia and the military geniuses of the Command have been crushed by the coastal powers to their south. However, I would wager than neither Bhuvauri or Bim Lau could stand up to the might of the Scourge Fleet at sea, and time has proven the oceans tell who rules the world.

Our fleet continues to grow in strength, both from vessels we capture in battle and the work of the Blood Bringers, who seek to have their investment protected at all costs. They may be greedy cowards, hiding behind the Scourge Fleet, but I know I can trust their motivations.

Poor Laadaa worked herself to death in her push for perfection and 'pretty borders' as she liked to call it. Also, taking huge amounts of powder to keep herself awake through the night probably did not help. Szuril is a skilled commander and an even more skilled manipulator. I expect she will be able to keep a lid on the factions and remain in power, which works for me as she has delegated overall command of the Scourge Fleet to me.

With advice from myself and other admirals, she has written a series of treatise on the nature of the Grand Republic. It has been made clear repeatedly in the past that the Scourge Fleet is the supreme power, even if pushed and pulled by the other factions, and this should extend to all aspect of policy. We will not be left to plunder and raze in peace, so we must be ready to fight.

Soruin was in chaos, as the Reverian colonists fought to the death to defend what they had. Our own territory was in the same state, with Human occupiers rampaging through burning plantations that we did not have the troops to defend and freeing Human slaves they found (while taking Orcs in chains). One of the most curious parts of the battle was the discovery of groups of Orcs that had fled and hidden in the jungle near the Cliffs of Ruin. These were former slaves from our own chain gangs who had fled, but since then had been fighting a brutal guerilla war against the Cannorians who had swept in and attempted to re-enslave them.

When Reveria finally admitted it could not hold Soruin any longer, we were left with a vast swathe of territory that would take decades to bring under full control. Humans scattered to hide from our slavers, and Orcs emerged from the jungle ready to fight us.

So, we gave the region over to the Orcs. They originally settled in the area, and had experience of the dense and dangerous jungles. Over time they had even lost their belief in Corin, after she had abandoned them to their fate at the hands of Reveria and the trials of the jungle. This was not a one-way trade, though.

The Orcs had already been introduced to Demon's Blood. Smuggling routes that even the Blood Bringers weren't aware of filtered their way over the Cliffs and into the deepest jungles, where they took it as a distraction from the harsh life their freedom had left them with. It was not hard to find Orcs willing to lead their kind into the arms of Xhazob, and the Kult was happy to assist with conversion efforts. We also made it clear that we would call upon them to guard the mainland from invasion in future wars.

Liberating them and handing out provinces gives a massive amount of liberty desire reduction, so that we can eat a whole 100% from force-converting them without too much trouble. They ended up around 70% liberty desire, enough to use devving and interactions to buy down.

When the Kult does something, it does not hold back. As promised, in a great and bloody ceremony a vessel was raised from the deeps to serve the Scourge Fleet. The Grand Admiral and I were the first to board, and it was a momentous feeling. The black wood, like none in the world, patterned with screaming faces in the very grains. Cannons that perpetually brim with hellfire. Sails that creak and moan, and move by themselves, empowered by the souls of the sacrifices. I do not put too much stock in the demon host, but this I cannot deny. The vessel was named Mother Mykx, in honour of the founder who brought the Scourge Fleet to its natural home.

The Mykx heavy flagship is specced for direct combat, with extra cannons and a reinforced hull. The Mykx light flagship is specced for trade patrols and piracy. Honestly, I am not sure why you would take the light ship (also in general when choosing a flagship). You can always get money other ways, but the combat buffs can be decisive.

With the celebrations over, we decided to bless the Mother Mykx with the blood of Eborthíl. Her birthplace, the Golden Citadel of Toref, was once ruled by these Humans. They had since been forced to flee into exile to Aelantir, so eliminating any claim they might hold to their old home would be the first step to taking it for ourselves.

That was the plan, but our invasion was halted by a massive force of Lorentish warships bearing down upon us. Caught off guard, we withdrew to prepare a line of battle, but after a brief skirmish the Lorentish fleet withdrew north. They were not here to defend Eborthíl but, but in fact intended to end our dominance of the Ruined Sea and drive us from Noruin entirely. As we made harbour in Ozgarom, we conferred with the Kult and asked for them to deliver Xhazob's rage into our cannons so that they might match the Mother Mykx. They accepted, and our ships were loaded with sacrifices to keep a fresh supply of blood to fuel the cannons. When we met the Lorentish fleet again, we would not falter.

Before we departed the Grand Admiral, myself, and the other captains, assembled to assess the situation. With Neratica on Lorent's side, they held as much territory as we did even with the recently claimed Orcish lands. The army and the marines were not numerous enough to defend everywhere at once, so some territory would have to be conceded until the situation was stabilized. Defending Ozgarom and the Bone Citadel from land invasions were agreed to be the highest priority for our warriors. The Scourge Fleet could guard the seas.

I included the minimap to show how much of a pain this war is. All those dots are fleets from Lorent, its colonies, and its allies. While most of them cannot stand up to the Scourge Fleet directly, they are enough to pose a risk to our transports and blockade and cause devastation on our territory.

When the word came that the Lorentish Fleet was headed for Trollsbay, likely to take Ilzin Isobel or Ynnsmouth, the full strength of the Scourge Fleet departed Ozgarom to intercept. The Grand Admiral herself took command of the Mother Mykx, while I remained on the now-demoted Salt Citadel. Seeing more than thirty vessels bristling with spouts of green flame, and headed by a black ship from the depths of the Pits itself was have been a terrifying sight for any traders who sought to ply our waters. Luckily for them, we had bigger prey.

We met them at the gates of Trollsbay, and though outnumbered nearly three to one, charged forward with all the fury Demon's Blood could grant us. The Mother Mykx engaged the Favourite directly, while I led a detachment in capturing as many vessels as possible. The crew Salt Citadel claimed three enemy galleons by themselves, though by the end of it my ship was in tatters and I had to move my command to one of the seized vessels. As I coordinated the fleet in rounding up the enemy frigates, I got a clear view of the Favourite detonating in a pillar of green flame that split the clouds open. It was a decisive victory, and though battered the Scourge Fleet came out of it stronger than it went in.

Also showing off the benefits of the Bounty Hunting government reform here.

From there, we actually had enough ships, and were confident enough in Lorentish weakness, to split the Scourge Fleet into two independent fleets. Szuril retained command of the Mother Mykx as part of the Gates Fleet, guarding the entrances to the Ruined Sea from further intruders from Cannor. My portion was the Scourge Fleet proper, hunting down the smaller raiders harassing our territory and covering the invasion and surrender of Neratica. The threat to the Bone Citadel was removed, but there were still many Lorentish colonies opposing us.

Our fleet was victorious, but we could not rest on our paws. This was the first large fleet action that the Scourge Fleet had seen in decades and the other captains had many words about the performance of their galleons, especially with Mother Mykx right there showing what a warship is truly capable of. Suggestions have been filtered back to Ilzin Mykx for a dedicated 'war galleon', with more guns and a hull designed to resist damage more than carry cargo. Though we will not likely be able to produce any until the war is over, we need to ensure we do not fall behind Cannor.

With most of our forces fighting in Soruin and Neratica, the Lorentish were able to seize the Sella estuary, ostensibly their primary goal in the war. However, they were trapped there once we restored naval supremacy in the region, so they were left to rot taking twenty thousand soldiers out of the war.

I linked back up with Szuril to hold back another attempt to land forces in Soruin. Our Orcish converts had eagerly thrown themselves into battle and were holding their own against the Lorentish colonies in the region, so preventing reinforcements from arriving swung the battle further in our favour.

For most of this war I have been whipping the Scourge Fleet into proper shape. As deadly as we are, many captains fight only for their personal glory, pulling away from the battle to loot treasure and slaves from ships that are floundering. If we are to ensure the Fleet remains in good shape going into the future, the lessons of this war need to be passed on. There has been talk in the past of establishing an academy on Graxilzin, and I intend to do that as soon as I am able.

When the Kult suggested raising a temple academy alongside it, with a dedication to studying the use of hellfire in warfare, I advocated it to Szuril. The sight of entire vessels obliterated as though Xhazob himself reached out of the depths instilled in me a great respect for their capabilities and what they can bring to the Fleet.

The next time the Lorentish Fleet returned, we did not even need both Fleets. The waters of the Ruined Sea were clear, and we were free to retake Sella and go on the offensive against the Lorentish colonies.

With their fleet in tatters, Lorent had no choice but to abandon the war effort. Our forces moved eastwards and secured several strategic harbours that would give us a path back to Cannor whenever we were ready. A few enclaves in Soruin were also integrated into Ozgarom.

Hellfire had proven spectacularly successful as a weapon against Lorent, so the marines were eager to integrate it into their units. The Kult found that they could inscribe runes into the barrels of wider weapons, then drench them with blood, to draw out demonic power and cause a simple blunderbuss to spew fire as though it was ship's cannon.

Today, we lost a great warrior. Szuril was given a funeral on par with that which had been held for Mykx, over one hundred years ago. She led us through the largest war we had yet experienced, and raised the Mother Mykx from the sea bed. I sent her to Xhazob's clutches with a thousand slaves, all packed into the funeral ship, before the Mother Mykx incinerated it with its hellfire cannons.

The funeral was interrupted by news of Busilari forces invading Jercel on Endralliande, while their colonial subjects advanced on the Leechdens. There is never a quiet moment for the Grand Admiral.

Busilar is hardly considered a threat compared to Lorent, so I have not yet deployed the Gate Fleet or the Scourge Fleet. My first stop was onto Graxilzin, where I officially opened the Naval Academy. Many veterans of the Lorent war had retired here to teach the next generation of captains and admirals. There were suggestions that the Academy could focus on teaching the common crewgnoll, or giving instruction to smugglers, but that was the job of the captain. Hence, the Academy should teach the captain how to lead first of all.

With maxed out demonic power and our event selections, we are running at 117.5% discipline as a baseline. That's really good. With absolutism and ideas, we could easily hit 130%. The buccaneers give more sailors (and drain a chunk of tax income), while the smugglers give improved light ships.

In the end I was so caught up at the Academy that I dispatched Kazz to dispatch the Busilari fleet. As expected, they were obliterated without too much trouble. Lorent was the single largest threat, and even they had not been able to withstand hellfire. Aelantir's waters are ours.

In our triumph, I make a declaration. The islands, the harbours, the rivers of Aelantir have no defence against us. They are ours for the taking, and all the inhabitants thereon will soon know what it means to serve Mykx.

To be continued…

Vote

The situation of the Grand Republic of Mykx is changing. The eyes of Cannor are upon us, and we need to be ready to further defend ourselves and strike back at them. The government is open for new ideas, and some are advocating a change of direction in the ideas already committed to.

Vote for two ideas. The first one will definitely take the fifth idea slot; the second may also be picked depending on the outcome of the following vote.

Administrative – As we expand and drive the Cannorians from our islands, we will need to expand the administration in turn to hold onto them.
Economic – Our economy could always benefit from more investment.
Trade – Trade holds a great many benefits, not least in terms of Demon's Blood export (the highest export modifier comes from level 3 CoTs, which are limited by the number of merchants)
Maritime – Further expansion of the marine corps will be necessary if we ever intend to strike at Cannor directly.
Quality – Our armies have struggled against the organisation and technology that Cannor has brought to Aelantir, so let us even the odds.
Offensive – We merely need to hit them harder and faster, until their defences collapse.

Vote below by clicking on the image. Vote for two options.


Should we abandon the policy of Expansion? Only the first idea has been selected so far, which goes to show how hungry for admin points we have been. If we abandon it, the second highest vote from above will replace it. Exploration is not up for vote right now because we are constantly pushing our Naval Force Limit.

Keep Expansion – It still holds potential economic benefits
Abandon Expansion – We should seek alternate approaches

Vote below by clicking on the image.


Voting will last 48 hours

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Fourteen: Empire of Ruin
1643-1660

Ebenmasser merchantman Golden Steed, docked at Ilzin Mykx Grand Harbour, 1659

Evin stared down at the commotion below him, his hand massaging the handle of his pistol. He did not expect to win a fight if things escalated, but perhaps he could wrangle one of those unruly slaves and ward off the Gnolls with a little show of strength.

On the quayside below, two slaves had gotten into a brawl. A Human and an Orc were tearing at each other, apparently over the recognition of being the one to life the gangplank up to the side of the Golden Steed. All around, the other slaves and countless Gnollish sailors were cheering it on, bar the slave master who was yelling and trying to push through crowd of onlookers. It was savagery that Evin hadn't seen since the conquests of the Expanse, in skirmishes with the barbaric Ynnic tribes that roamed the plains.

Give him a lasso and a steed, a proper one and not this hulking lump of wood they'd purchased from West Tipney, and he was confident he could run rings around any this mass and herd them into usefulness.

A whoop went up from the crowd as the Human tipped the Orc into the water, snatching a pouch from the larger slave's belt before he tumbled. The Human immediately took a big sniff of the contents of the bag, and then with strength that Evin did not imagine a Human naturally had, picked up the gangplank and set it against the ship. Satisfied, the Human slave wore a smile so large it looked like his face was about to tear apart, even as the slave master delivered a series of blows to drive him back into the rest of the slave crew.

"Colonel Dustcoaster," a sharp voice called out, over the commotion. Almost immediately the yapping sailors quieted and went back to whatever their business was.

The crowd parted and a finely dressed Gnoll walked up to the ship. She wore a tunic made of different fabrics, which had been stitched together by someone with a good eye for colour and material matching. No doubt each fabric came from a different looted outfit. Gold and gems adorned her arms, belt, and neck, but not to such an overwhelming degree as Evin had seen from other Gnolls in the past. Her cap was identical to the headwear of the other Gnollish warriors marching up behind her, though hers had a golden mount that held a viridescent feather of some exotic bird. Evin supposed that marked her out as the commander he was supposed to meet.

"Major Shredspear," Evin said. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat to her, and began to descend onto the dock.

"Sersa, if you would like," she replied, before stepping aside to let Evin walk besides her.

Behind them, Evin's own soldiers descended from the ship, some carrying a heavy crate between and the rest very carefully watching the Gnolls and slaves surrounding them. They had been promised safe return, and over the past few years Arkez had managed to smack some diplomacy into his sailors meaning traders (with paid protection dues) and aligned military vessels were actually finding safe harbour at Mykxic ports. However, even if the Gnollish marines escorting them to meet the Grand Admiral could stay in line, there were still thousands more who'd made no such promises.

"Impressive, right?" Sersa asked, bumping his shoulder with her elbow.
Evin hadn't been paying too much attention to his greater surroundings, but with properly disciplined Gnolls at his front and his men at his back he had a bit more leeway to do so.

Very few made it back from Ilzin Mykx with their lives, so tales and descriptions of the Gnollish capital were decades or even centuries out of date. The oldest stories spoke of a ramshackle assembly of wood that only barely functioned and frequently claimed the lives of unfortunate slaves, where ships moored up wherever they could find space and barfights regularly spilled out onto the docks and decks.

The Grand Harbour, in the present day, was very different from the stories. The entire vast bay had been filled with an intricate collection of docks that seemed impossible to navigate but surely had some alien logic to them as the Golden Steed had made it most of the way in. Vessels of all sizes rested at these docks, almost all unloading plunder or supplies to go to the population of the island. Larger vessels could be found closer to the shore, where stone quays jutted out and supported massive gantry cranes, while smaller vessels found a place in the network of wooden docks that filled the rest of the bay.

"If there's an emergency, the Scourge Fleet can call on demonic winds and smash through the outer docks," Sersa said, having followed his eye line, "some of the walkways have been built deliberately weak."

"What about the ships docked there?" Evin asked aloud, though he knew the answer.

"They can clear out or be smashed," she replied, a grin round her snout.

Their group made their way off the quay and onto the shore. It had once been a beach, but a century and a half of slave labour had filled it in with stone structures that as tall as any Evin had seen on the way out of Trollsbay. Though crowded together and probably not checked for structural stability, the offices, sailor and marine barracks, and warehouses of the shore were not what made it dangerous. That was caused by the sheer mass of people moving around. Gnolls and slaves went about their work, wide-eyed and sniffling, ready to start a fight at a moment's notice. Evin had seen the effects of Demon's Blood, particularly on the savages of the Expanse, and was almost glad that it addled the Gnolls as much as it addled the degenerated Elves. Packs of freemen moved around as well, all races besides Gnolls banding together to keep from being picked off and clapped in chains again by some enterprising Gnoll. He was curious of their stories, but he had other work to do.

"How goes the war effort?" he asked. To look at the masses around him, he wouldn't have been able to tell that battles raged around the Ruined Sea. Just crossing from Trollsbay had been terrifying, fearing that an enemy vessel would come barrelling out of the mists and try to impress them into service. It had been more of a fear than the pirates themselves.

"The seas are clear," Sersa said. She tapped a claw against a golden bracelet on her arm. "Took this from an enemy captain myself."

Evin didn't want to ask what she had done with rest of him.

She continued, nodding back at the crate being carried along behind them, "your tribute is appreciated. We must all pull together to resist Cannor."

It was true, Mykxic protection fees were actually cheaper than the tolls that the likes of Lorent would install if they claimed monopolic dominance of Aelantir. The Gnolls might burn down a coastal town or two hundred, but in the landlocked Expanse their touch was only felt when merchants raised their prices in response to protection fees, or Demon's Blood filtered up the Ynn. If Lorent ruled, everyone would answer to a distant king. The way of life he and his people had built would be overwhelmed. It felt strange that their defence had fallen to a band of monsters, but they were leaning some decorum and could be polite and reasonable when the situation called for it.

Passing from the shore, they arrived at a plaza where a massive statue had been constructed. Carved from fine marble, though Evin had no idea about how the Gnolls might have come such a large block on the seas, and inlaid with all sorts of precious gems and metals, it depicted a female Gnoll standing tall and reaching for the distance. Her other hand held some, very real, freshly severed heads of various races, including Gnolls. Perhaps those who tried to steal from the statue.

It was clearly the nation's founder, Mykx herself.

"Thank the Scourgemother, most blessed of Xhazob," Sersa said, mostly to herself, as they passed the statue.

"I haven't heard her called that before," Evin said. He could feel himself stepping into a diplomatic faux pas, but continued anyway. "Is that her title now? I thought you were always led by an Admiral?"

Sersa looked back at him with a deep black eye and just gave a subtle grin, before continuing their march to meet the ruler of the Scourge Empire.

Excerpts from the journal of Arkez 'the Deadly', Grand Admiral of Mykx

If we are to claim the islands, we need the capability to strike back at Cannor directly. I have assembled the Scourge Fleet at Pirendral and ordered a massive expansion of the army, especially the marines. This force will launch a dedicated assault on Cannor, to show them that they are not safe from us in their homes across the ocean.

While my captains and I are away campaigning in distant oceans, we need the Kult to maintain order at home. The proliferation of Demon's Blood throughout the population has proven incredibly effective at erasing the weak faiths that they once followed, replacing them with prayers to the host. With the establishment of Blood Cathedrals, even the largest and most stubborn populations can be moved into worship and sacrifice.

Between this and religious ideas we can finally convert things at a decent clip, even without the Kult faction in power. The bonus tax is also a good bump for our Demon's Blood ports.

The Blood Bringers are also becoming an institution, as more and more of our economy is built on exporting Demon's Blood. They are being granted increased privileges across the nation, which works for me as the flow of more powder means more gold in the national hoard. I am comfortable that I am shrewd enough to avoid any of their more obvious schemes to extract money into their own hands.

Their interest is in the ports to the South East of the Leechdens, which will give us access to the Markets in the southern reaches. With the Busilari fleet easily crushed, the portion of the army not assigned to the invasion of Cannor has been dispatched to claim these ports.

Invading across continents is a difficult task. Our campaign began well, with the marines landing in the port of Eborthíl and securing it for our landing, while we delivered a devastating defeat to the Busilar by capturing the Edronias. All that we needed to do was finish securing a landing point, and then we could unload the bulk of our army. However, it quickly became clear that the Busilari knew what we were planning and stationed a significant force in Toref Citadel, which came to reclaim the port before we could land.

And this shows what happens when you don't just sink, but actually manage to capture, a flagship. A really nice chunk of change.

Even with hellfire from Mother Mykx raining down on the attackers, our marines were pushed out of the city. I had clearly underestimated our enemies.

However, for the moment, we gave them peace. Even if we could not land, we could still terrorize their shores. After a few months of that, Busilar was willing to give up the ports we desired and pay tribute. As we limped back to Aelantir, heavy with treasure but also heavy with disappointment, I promised the Fleet that we would return once more, in glory.

First, we need an army to match what Cannor can bring to bear against us. The discipline instilled into the marines will be extended to all soldiers. Those who distinguish themselves in battle will rise up the ranks and earn ever more fame and fortune from the state. Knowing that they are fighting for more than just immediate personal glory will drive Gnollish warriors to greater heights.

Secondly, we need the money to fund it. Qathcel on Pirendral has become our primary exporter of Demon's Blood to Cannor. With Lorent and Busilar's fleets crushed for the moment, it is easy for our smugglers to reach as far as the Dameshead. While this won't last, for the moment it is funding our military expansion by itself.

The fourth and final tier of Demon's Blood ports

And finally, we need to unite Mykx under Xhazob's greedy gaze. Through holy violence and psychedelic addiction, slaves are made to justify their own imprisonment, while the restless and unsettled lower classes are kept complacent by the promise of a great celebratory pyre at the end of each week.

The nations on the mainland of Aelantir are developing more intensive economies, which is only better for our raiders. No longer are they seizing cargo holds full of basic materials, but more often processed and finished goods. We have fewer such manufactories established around our territory, so I have ordered some more to be developed, particularly in our Demon's Blood producing regions. If the landlubbers can scale up their production, so can we.

I have slipped into this role far better than I expected. I am not drawn into the bloodlust of battle, nor willing to lose myself in the depths of worship, nor be tricked by the cunning scams of the Blood Bringers. Instead, I might be able to elevate us a step beyond what we have built so far and create something that Mykx would truly be proud of.

The remaining independent nations of the Ruined Sea need to understand that we are both their protectors, and if they dare to resist any further, their demise. Neratica supported Lorent in their last attack, so securing their loyalty by the sword will ensure the defence of the Bone Citadel.

This, and a couple of other minor wars I didn't note, were primarily to farm prestige, in order to…

We are not just a Scourge Fleet; we are a Pirate Empire that will reach across the world. And I have the power to make that a reality. The Mother Mykx is speaking to me, telling me that her nation needs strength in its leadership. It needs more than a Grand Admiral; it needs a Father or a Mother. Not just for the Gnolls within our borders, but also for those who have fallen under the spell of the 'just' and 'holy' gods of Cannor and Bulwar. The Scourge Empire of Mykx, led by its Scourgefather, will terrorize every sea.

We will not just be for Gnolls, any one may participate so long as they understand that blood and gold rule the world. If they fall into chains, then they were simply too weak, but if they have the strength and cunning to survive then we will elevate that. With the Kult and Blood Bringers bringing demonic insight to all our citizens slaves, as well as countless more abroad, our ways will be open to all.

Finally, after being distracted by wars with Cannor, we have secured a port on the south-eastern edge of the Ruined Sea, giving us a proper trade connection to our new harbours in South Aelantir. We have access to almost all the markets in Aelantir now, but the native civilizations in Eordand and Kheionai remain stubbornly resistant to our powdered goods. The captains are drawing up plans to secure proper trading ports in those regions.

Claiming the title of hegemon of Aelantir is meaningless if all the other nations fight against us on instinct. We need them alive, to run the economies that we plunder from and to supply the population who consume our drugs. Being able to normalize relations and establish proper protection rackets even after we have seized their ports will help stabilize our empire.

The process of demonsterization puts you on a 100-point scale that you need to drop to zero. Making use of monster mechanics, like the CB, increases the number while regular events reduce the number.

This means putting a lid on some of the worst excesses of my captains, as much as it goes against what we stand for. For example, recently I ordered the release of a crew of pirate hunters who had been captured after harassing our vessels in Kheionai. They were stripped of their ship and valuables, but kept their lives and freedom. It demonstrates that we can be negotiated with, they have the option to pay rather than fight.

A typical event. Number goes down, in exchange for some cost and some benefit, with the other option being number goes up.

The colonialists have been fading away as the available land with the islands is bought up by retired pirates flush with loot or Blood Bringer merchants settling down with a plantation full of slaves. All of Aelantir is claimed or settled, so the effort that would have gone into taking the land for ourselves is now going into opening up markets further abroad.

Lorentish troops crossed from New Kyliande into Ozgarom. They think that bypassing the fleet will give them victory, but the army has doubled in size since the last war. Whatever troops they have stationed will not survive in a jungle haunted by demon-fuelled Orcs and ferocious Gnolls.

If they attack our vassal, we don't get the option to use Hellfire. However, I think the Fleet is more than capable of handling things without it.

War is one area where I will not show compromise to those who oppose us. Our savagery defines our battles, and I would never want that to change even if the technology we wield advances.

Sometimes taking the monstrous option is gives a nice bonus, even if it will slow down your progress overall.

The Cannorian fleets continue to pose no threat. With Admiral Vazga guarding the Noruin coast and Calamity Pass with the Gate Fleet and myself aboard the Mother Mykx hunting fleets across the Ruined Sea and even striking out beyond, they are systematically taken apart and their vessels repurposed to swell our numbers. In some cases, we even let the crews live and have their vessels scrapped at the nearest shipyard to bolster and repair our own, while they themselves are ransomed back at a premium.

Fun fact, I am upgrading my fleet by steadily switching out old obsolete vessels with captured modern vessels. A nice little money saver.

Reforms continue to bring our militaries up to standard with Cannor. Gnolls don't like to be stuffed into a uniform, but we do allow them some chance to customize, whether than be jewellery looted from a raided town, or a trophy taken from a slain enemy solider. More seriously, we are adopting more of the rank hierarchy seen in Cannorian navies. Ranks are a little more fluid, as a weak commander will be supplanted by their subordinates, but that means the strongest rise to the top where they should be.

Our plunder of the Lorentish navy itself is proving valuable. Our tropical islands do not have wood of the same quality as the temperate mainland, and what we do have is at risk of being clear-cut to fuel the needs of the Fleet and Blood Bringer smugglers. I have implemented a reward system for those who bring back enemy vessels intact, which gets added on top of the rewards they receive for coating themselves and the wooden deck in the blood of those crew who dare resist.

Ozgarom has proven to be an impossible nut for Lorent to crack. When faced with our ferocity, they could only retreat. They think that by bringing more guns they can overwhelm us, but when their line buckled under the power of our troops' hand cannons those guns just weighed them down and led them to be slaughtered.

The marines also demonstrated their own strength as they hopped from port to port, defeating each and every attempt by Lorent to pick at the edges of our domain. With our largest holdings guarded by the army, the Fleet guarding the seas and the marines holding the mobility to strike anywhere, there is nothing Lorent can do against us. However, without a proper base in Cannor we cannot yet strike back.

As we normalize our relations with other nations, we have to make clear that our nation is built on the ruins of the ones that came before us. Ruins that we made ourselves. That is the way of things. It is not monstrous, or intended as an insult. Those under our protection need only pay the toll to avoid it, while our enemies burn and are torn down piece by piece.

We finally get razing back. It's been a long while, but as long as we keep conquering our mana problems will be over.

The nations of Aelantir are more comfortable paying their tribute to us than kneeling to a king across the ocean. Ebenmas and West Tipney, two of the larger nations established on the Ynn Plateau, have sponsored the war effort against Lorent. Opening up diplomacy is already starting to pay.

With our repeated victories against the Lorentish fleet, we are indisputably the largest and most skilled navy in the world. Aelantir is nearly secure. After that, the seas of the world will feel the scourge of Mykx.

Finally, a second idea group complete. For completing, we get to do naval barrages for free and can unlock a policy.

Lorent was unable to hold onto its territory, allowing us to expand our control of the islands facing Cannor, and integrate more of Soruin into our Orcish subjects. As promised, the cities and warehouses of the seized land were broken open and the resources within dragged back to Ilzin Mykx to be presented to me, the Scourgefather. When these ruins are once again built upon, it will be as bases for the Scourge Fleet to reach out across the oceans.

I cannot claim all the credit for our strength. The Kult still grows, and all the across the nation the names of Xhazob and his host are spoken with reverence. Our slaves revel in their chains, cheering as their souls are burnt up and sent to Xhazob. Those who do not attend the pyres earn the eye of inquisition upon them. Meanwhile, the Blood Bringers work to keep Demon's Blood flowing through the veins of the nation and its people, as well as millions more abroad. Mykx' dream of the Scourge-of-all-Seas is within reach.

Finishing Mykxic ideas gives us +1 blockade bonus to siege. Between this and completing naval ideas, coastal forts are trivial to take.

To be continued…

Coming up next, a State of the World Interlude

 

[Sybot]

Interlude: State of the World 1660

Excerpts from Anear and Afar, A World to Ravage, published in Ilzin Mykx, 1660

An enterprising pirate, such as yourself, ought to seek out both riches and weakness. The world is filled with those complacent and decadent in their wealth, but it is also filled with dangers beyond the imagination of those who haven't left the waters of the Ruined Sea. Follow our guide, and understand the state of the world today.

North Aelantir, held tightly in the Scourgefather's grip. The Trollsbay Concord is long dead, having been absorbed by Lorent and Ynnic invaders. Their trade routes are hotly competed by privateers, but are also a safe place for a young sailor to earn their first trophies. Further afield, Haraf and Eordand are unified under single major powers, though they are steadily falling under the grip of Demon's Blood. Raiding fleets occasionally pass through these areas, but they are left alone besides. This may change, if the Scourgefather's plans come to fruition.

Inland, the Ynn Plateau is dominated by Cannorian settlers who have conquered the native empires of the region, though this is beyond the reach of the Scourge Fleet.

The south can be divided into four clearly distinct parts. The north is firmly Xhazob's territory, including the Demon's Blood manufactories in the Leechdens, the blood jungles ruled by demonic orcs in the north, and the major western export port on Vanburia.

To both the east and the west, Cannorian colonies compete and suffer under regular raids. These sea routes are more often quiet as the colonial enterprises are protected by their motherlands, but that just means opportunity.

Finally, the southernmost regions are held by Ruinborn. These wealthy shielded cities are regularly ravaged by our pirate fleets, but unlike Trollsbay they have managed to maintain their independence. Similar to Eordand, there are plans in motion to begin rotting these powerful nations from within.

Two forces dominate Cannor. The Kingdom of Lorent, and the Empire of Anbennar. The Regent Court schism divides them, with Adean dominating Lorent and Corin worshipped throughout the Empire. In between, the Ravelians struggle for relevance. These waters are heavily patrolled, but incredibly wealthy. Taking privateering contracts for one side against the other may be the solution to secure treasure for yourself.

Further inland in Cannor, in the lands of Escann that are out of our reach, the Corintide Orcs dominate. The Dwarves of the mountains have reclaimed most of their ancient empire, as well as significant parts of the frozen north, all ruled from 'the Observatory'.

There are dwarves who pose a much greater threat. From the west mountains a dark invasion has poured out and conquered significant chunks of the Deepwoods and Bulwar. The nations of Bulwar, having outlasted the Jadd Empire, now face annihilation from a different direction. Beware the Obsidian Dwarves. They are as brutal and relentless as we are, and they have begun to take to the sea and spare no quarter for pirates.

Sarhal is divided between the ascendant Fangaula, who rule most of our once-homeland, and the Jadd Empire which advanced deep into the continent before losing repeated wars. The coast is occupied by a number of petty kingdoms and Cannorian colonies that serve as stopping points for traders travelling to Haless. If a safe harbour can be found, these waters could prove very fruitful plunder.

The mysterious lands of Rahen and Haless, filled with powerful empires and exotic goods that are richly desired by the nations of the west. The Scourgefather has offered a great reward to any sailor who charts the coastline of Haless for vulnerable ports to seize and who can extend our reach to these untouched treasures.

If you seek to claim territory beyond the Ruined Sea, aim to claim islands or isolated coastal fortifications. The landlubbers do not appreciate our presence, and while our warriors are fierce, they can be defeated by sheer numbers. Lorent in particular has shown a keen interest in scouring us from the face of Halann, and our victories over them have been guaranteed by their inability to bring their vast armies to bear.

And the reason they cannot bring their numbers to bear is the relentless hard work of the Scourge Fleet. Larger and stronger than any other navy in the world, we are the undisputed rulers of the sea. As we extend our reach out across oceans, the dream of hegemony draws ever closer.

We should be rightfully be considered one of the Great Powers of the world, but that merely means we are being underestimated. Go forth, and show the world what it means to live in Xhazob's shadow!

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Well, that was informative. Xhazob and his demons seem to be doing well enough.

Also, the Empire of Anbennar? Is the mod named after that? Why haven't I heard of this empire before (might be that I wasn't paying close enough attention, honestly)?

Yes, the mod is named after the Empire. It's an HRE equivalent, but hasn't been that relevant to the story overall though some of its members have interests in Aelantir.

Chapter Fifteen: Strike Homewards
1660-1676

Fifty miles inland of Gnollakan Harbour, Sarhal, 1665

Desert heat pulsed across Seilzu's body, the measly breeze barely shifting the unrelenting gaze of the sun. She shifted her cloak to try and keep off the sun, only for it to get knocked out of position by the lope of her war hyena. The rest of the party had it worse, having to walk on foot, with the Human porter slaves they had picked up when they had landed dropping of dehydration in increasing numbers. None of the warriors wanted to carry their own baggage in the heat, so they grudgingly shared their water with the slaves.

"Should we turn back?" Ac, her lieutenant, asked of her, as they followed the trail up yet another sand-blasted hillside. He padded along beside her, panting heavily but otherwise keeping his discipline better than the other grumbling warriors in her unit.

"Orders are orders," Seilzu replied, "and this is our homeland. We crawled out of Pits of Grillax somewhere out there."

She pointed out to the east, across thousands more miles of desolate desert, towards the mythical homeland of Gnolls and entrance to hell. In her mind, crossing a desert was a natural thing for a Gnoll to do. Bulwar, Kheterata, Akan, these lands had all fallen at the hands of Gnolls willing to suffer a little a little heat. A mission to seek out frontier towns to establish garrisons was nothing compared to that.

Shifting her cloak again, she pulled out the map she had purloined from a local merchant. It was not as intricate as the oceanic maps that the navigators produced back in Mykx, but it served its purpose. It was marked out in estimated journey lengths between the sparse villages of the region, whether on foot, on horseback, or in a caravan. By her estimate, they should have already reached the next village, but they were slowed down because her Gnolls likely hadn't seen such a large expanse of land in their lives.

"We could seek shelter," she said, after a moment's more thought.

The sun continued to beat down, and with midday approaching it might be better to take a break. At the top of this hill, she would take stock and come to a decision.

As her mount crested the top of the ridge, the solution emerged even sooner than she had expected. The trail turned, leading down towards a splash of green tucked away in the next valley. An oasis or river, hidden from view. Either that was her target, or, if not, they could pillage it of fresh food, fresh water, and fresh porters before continuing.

Gnoll and slave turned with the trail and made their way towards the oasis village.

The village was, for the most part, nothing special, a collection of simple clay brick huts and straw roofs assembled close to a bubbling blue stream that arose from a cave in the hillside. One feature dominated the town though, that being a stone building in clear Cannorian style, twice as tall as any other structure with a steeple from which hung a flag bearing the symbol of a sword on a red backdrop. Followers of Corin, the Human.

Seilzu watched carefully as the locals emerged from their dwellings to watch her unit approach. Short and thin, it took her a moment to recognize them as Gnolls and not just especially furry Humans. It was like looking at the weaklings and failures that skittered and scrounged for survival in the shadows of Ilzin Mykx, Gnolls who were just not able to make it against their stronger brethren. Just what had Corin done to these creatures?

"Have they taken your voices too?!" she called out as her hyena padded past the buildings, "speak up, and identify your pack leader!"

One of the Gnolls started to talk, but her Gnollish was either very rusty or bore an accent that was almost indecipherable for Seilzu. Instead, Seilzu fixed her eyes on the Gnoll who had spoken, the intensity of her gaze overwhelming the whelp until she broke and babbled an apology in Common while pointing at the Corinite temple.

Seilzu offered her a big toothy grin, which just sent the local scurrying back into her home.

As they approached the temple, the ornate wooden doors, probably more valuable by themselves than any individual building in the village, swung open and a Gnoll of proper stature emerged. He was dressed like a Cannorian knight, though with more leather than plate or mail considering the desert heat. A cloak in Corinite colours wrapped around him, and he had a longsword held in one hand.

"I am Briar, devout of Corin and priest for this village," he said, entirely in Common, after stopping in front of Seilzu's mount.

"Captain Seilzu, Mykx' Marines," Seilzu replied. She leaned forward and rested her arms on her hyena's head, earning a growl. "So, you really do worship a human."

"And you still follow the old ways," Briar said, "why don't you return the ruin you built for yourself."

"Do you think Corin will protect you?" Seilzu asked, pushing her mount forward, step by step, until its slavering mouth was within a foot of the deluded knight.

"As long as I fight against darkness and tyranny, I will always be protected," he replied.

The hyena growled louder to the point its body started to rumble underneath Seilzu, and she debated whether letting it loose to just bite Briar's head off.

Then, before she came to a decision, he grabbed it by the jaw and drove his sword under its chin and straight up through its skull. Seilzu tipped backwards, the top of blade just narrowly missing her paws, and hopped off her mount as it thrashed out its death throes. Behind her, the sounds of drawn steel came from the rest of her unit. Two dozen more Gnollish warriors ready to fight.

However, Seilzu was not going to order everyone to pile on. That could get a lot of her warriors killed or maimed. She dusted herself off from her landing and motioned for Ac to approach Briar from one side, while she circled around the other.

"That was brutal, worth of Gnoll," she said, watching Briar carefully as he withdrew his sword and wiped it on his cloak. The shade of red was very convenient colour for such violence.

"I can see the state of your slaves," he said, "negotiation was always going to fail. I would always fight for their freedom. You would always try to induct me into your infernal cult."

"You're halfway there," Seilzu said, "bloodlust in the name of justice is still bloodlust."

To his credit, Briar didn't rise to the bait. He backed up, keeping both Seilzu and Ac in view. After a few moments more, Seilzu decided it was time to punish him for forcing her to walk home, and gestured for Ac to attack.

With a howl of anticipation, Ac dropped to all fours and bounded straight at Briar. Green mucus streamed from his nose and mouth, and all sense of reason had left him as he had embraced the Blood's power.

Briar swung, attempting to cleave the charging Gnoll in two, but Ac twisted and flung himself to his feet with supernatural agility, before drawing his own wickedly curved blade and launching into a frenzied series of blows that would break the guard of a mere Human or Elf. Briar withstood it, remaining calm and moving his longsword with as much speed and precision as Seilzu had seen from anyone. He turned, keeping her in view while still duelling his opponent.

Then, Seilzu drew her pistol in a smooth motion and shot him in the face.

Ac, panting, looked back at her for a moment. She glared back at him, daring him to try and complain about kill thievery, until he backed down and began looting the corpse.

"Tear down Corin's flag!" Seilzu called out to the rest of her unit, "then build a pyre and distribute Demon's Blood to the locals. Let's show them how Gnolls are meant to live!"

Exceprts from the journal of Izz Ridgeborn, Admiral of the Scourge Fleet

My first combat as a captain of the Scourge Fleet was under Admiral Vazga, during the Ravage of Ormam. The priests cursed our cannons as the Fleet descended into the windswept islands of Kheionai, and our marines took their rations of Demon's Blood to draw themselves closer to Xhazob. The goal, passed down from the Scourgefather, was to secure a port on the main island to distribute Demon's Blood among the wealthy shielded cities.

With half of our warriors and half of the Scourge Fleet on the opposite end of Aelantir, Cannorians from Istralore and Moonhaven struck at our eastern holdings. The Scourgefather personally led the defence at the head of the Gate Fleet, deploying the marines to strike at the Istralorean islands, and even raiding their holdings on the Sarhal coast.

In our battles against the Kheionai fleets, we had to follow many new frustrating regulations regarding the ransoming of prisoners and seizure of lands and treasure. I am not one to risk Xhazob's anger, so I ensured that at least some of our captives made their way onto the makeshift pyres in our pirate havens in the region. I do not know why the Scourgefather seeks the approval of the feeble and compassionate nations of the world, but I have to trust his plan.

Tales of his prowess reached us from across Aelantir, including the capture of multiple enemy flagships. The enemies of our enemies were happy to pay a ransom for the victory, not to mention the countless treasures that the Cannorians keep on their prized ships.

Capturing flagships is one of the single most profitable things in the game, perhaps to a broken level. They single-handedly keep my economy afloat during these war years.

The two Kheionai nations had too many soldiers between them for a direct assault on their island, so I led a mission to lure them out by striking at their holdings on the mainland. When they crossed, we landed with our marines to close the passage behind them. Their homeland was entirely open to be plundered.

Admiral Vazga joined us in the final assault on Ormam, where one of the Ruinborn struck her down with a lucky shot. Her body was burnt in a pyre along with every captured defender of the city. I do not know if the Scourgefather would approve of making such an example, given his goals, but I know that her soul will be satisfied before it is devoured. I have been made Admiral by the vote of the other captains in the Fleet. Vazga was being groomed to become Scourgemother, so I have vast boots to fill.

Now in command, I watched our troops rampage through the city, its shields shattered by the fires of Pits spewed by our cannons. After three days and nights of pillaging in honour of Vazga, I ordered them to cease, or face punishment. The Scourgefather's goal was a port for the distribution of Demon's Blood. Leaving it intact would spread corruption more than burning it to the ground.

Our forces, fat with plunder and hungry for more battle, returned to the Ruined Sea in time to lift a siege of the Bone Citadel. The Scourgefather had guarded the seas, but had not been able to do much against the Cannorian colonies. That was about to change.

We also returned to concerning news from the east. The island of Endralliande, outside of our enclaves, had fallen to Lorent, along with most of the Reverian homeland. Reactions were mixed. Most of us are too young to remember the days when Reveria was our greatest foe, but there remains the desire to be the ones to finish off those who had once crossed us. With one less foe in Aelantir, the pressure on us from Lorent was likely to increase.

Though the Scourgefather was also disappointed by Vazga's death, he showed great interest in my skills. I was given a personal task by him, taking a small force of marines to our easternmost holdings. On the way, the Scourge Fleet intercepted a massive combined Istralorean and Moonhavener force, which I decisively crushed despite being outnumbered four-to-one in number of ships. Our counterattack had begun, and the host blessed our sails as we set out over the ocean.

Before we departed, I met the Scourgefather in person for the first time. He was shorter than expected, and much calmer and more considered than the ideal of him swinging aboard a Cannorian flagship and personally killing their admiral. Despite that, he presented an image of confidence and righteousness that we are destined to rules the world's seas. His words were backed by the whispers in my mind, the cry of the demons that bubbles up whenever I partake in their blood. The other captains and I were inspired to pursue our Xhazob-granted mission by any means necessary.

Our brief stop also made clear that things were not perfect within the Scourge Empire of Mykx. The Kult and Blood Bringers are backing the Scourgefather to the hilt, but there are countless minor pirates, smugglers and landowners whose livelihoods have been wrecked by back-to-back wars with Cannor. As the Scourgefather centralize authority onto himself, it is increasingly likely that we will face rebellions not just from our slaves but also from the most disgruntled members of our society. I say, let them come.

My concern lay overseas. With our forces, we took an Istralorean port on the coast of Sarhal, just south of Viakkoc itself. For the first time in a century, servants of Xhazob hold land within reach of the Divenhal. Our path to liberating those fallen under the sway of the Human goddess is open.

With the war over and new export ports secure, the Scourgefather turned to the 'Blood and Gold Initiative' proposed by the Blood Bringers. As we reach out and seize more of the vital ports and river estuaries, no inch of Aelantir will be out of reach of the oozing blood of Xhazob.

Imagine it extends even further down… We don't actually need all of these ports, just one in each trade node, but it is quite the list of claims.

In the Grand Harbour, moorings were established at the entrance to the bay where the seized flagships of Moonhaven and Istralore were docked. The skull and bones flag of Mykx flew above the desecrated flags of their homelands, as a demonstration of what befalls those who cross us.

Sadly, the Busilari flagship we captured earlier was lost on the voyage back home. By the end of this update, we are up to six flagships in the trophy fleet.

Even at peace, the Scourgefather does not rest. He is working to push through reforms that will formalize the ascension of a new Scourgefather or Mother upon the death of old. The days of designated successors, infighting among the factions, and exile for the losers will be put behind us and a council of representatives of the Fleet, Kult, and Blood Bringers will select our new leader.

This is kind of irrelevant with the Pirate King reform, but getting a discount to stability increases is nice.

He has also formally integrated the Blood Bringer and Kult administrators into the government. Many are concerned about the potential for this position to be exploited, but I trust that their interests will align with the Fleet, those being spreading and harvesting the profit of Demon's Blood, and ensuring we have a steady flow of sacrifices to feed Xhazob's maw.

Some very nice benefits, but also more corruption. This means the pay-down-corruption slider needs to sit at 35% just to break even.

The Fleet has not been abandoned, as he has placed a great deal of investment of our war treasure into bolstering us as well. The Naval Academy now has mandatory swimming lessons for officers, and every new sailor is forced to learn to swim before they can leave port, even if it means tossing them into the harbour the day before the ship gets underway. The sight of Gnolls weighed down by their soaked fur and armour sinking into Xhazob's embrace is a delightful one, but they would better serve the fleet living to fight another day.

And then of course there is investment in the dockyards around our territory. Always a worthy investment to see Scourge Fleet grow to ever greater numbers.

Here's a showing of the missions so far after that long string of completions.

Finally, he has also been working on a rework of the regulations around piracy that have been in place since the nation was founded. Much of it was formalizing arrangements that have been in place for decades, especially as our network of protection rackets grows and Demon's Blood infiltrates every aspect of our work. Piracy for a more modern age.

I cheated to skip Trollsbay Export as I'd blocked that mission by putting a trading post in the wrong place, as mentioned earlier. This mission varies depending on which faction is in charge in the nation when you complete it. The buccaneers make missions cost less sailors, the smugglers give trade efficiency. Also, a little peek into upcoming missions.

The Cannorians once again aggress against us while we are striving to build a stronger nation. I have been deployed to Soruin, to support our forces targeting Lorent on the mainland and seize harbours that would be usable as export ports.

Our primary target, the Amadia region. The exiles of Eborthíl have significant holdings here, but first we need to break through the Lorentish armies stationed across the Cliffs of Ruin. While I patrolled the seas, our Gnolls and Orcs drove through the jungle that clambers over the cliffs and destroy our foes.

I just noticed our new uniforms. Nice and garish.

The opposite news came from Endralliande, where Lorent pre-emptively landed a force larger than our entire army. However, that merely means they have trapped themselves there. Sixty thousand soldiers are now out of the picture, through the sacrifice of our garrisons and the power of the Fleet.

It was not long before a port was secured, with Eborthíl giving up a location for us to spread our corruption up the rivers of the region. The war against Lorent continues, but the war in South Aelantir has swung completely in our favour.

The latest news, as I sail for the northern front, has left me speechless. The Scourgefather has passed, killed in battle against Lorent. The electoral council has agreed to make me Scourgemother, with my victories in Kheionai and Amadia, as well as my devotion to the demonic host, all counting in my favour. I have sacrificed all my personal slaves to give us swift winds back to Ilzin Mykx so I can meet the leaders of the factions and put them to the task of running the nation. I'm a commander, not a ruler. How can I be the mother of the nation?

I am already beset by disaster. The dissenters among the colonialists and minor crews presented their demands for more autonomy and lower tax burdens just as I arrived at Ilzin Mykx, no doubt planned to take advantage of the change in leadership. Though I might not know how to rule, I do know how to lead. Their demands were firmly rejected, and I ordered the council to begin cracking down on the dissent before it could threaten the war effort.

However, the petitioners had a backup plan. The harbour boiled with crews loyal to their cause, and they attempted to storm the Inner District. Unfortunately for them, I had been in the process of escorting our forces to Noruin when the news arrived, so it was trivial to redirect forces to crush the uprising. Any captured traitors were sent to Graxarr, with the ringleaders keelhauled or strapped to the hull of the vessels, and the rest thrown onto the Everpyre. Word is already spreading causing outrage among the outlying colonies, but I have no qualms about putting down those who threaten my authority.

Before I can bring the nation to heel, we need to end the war with Lorent. Their remaining forces in the north were struck down, leaving Endralliande as the only concentration of Lorentish forces in Aelantir.

With their fleets destroyed and their armies trapped, they were forced to come to terms. We seized more territory in the Banished Isles, and more notably an outpost on the edge of a vast icy magical wasteland. This will be our jumping-off point for Demon's Blood trading in the frozen northern reaches of Aelantir. This region has escaped our claws for long enough, despite the surprisingly heavy settlement by Cannor.

I have departed with a force of marines on a mission of major importance, but it appears that my absence was leaked, as no sooner had we landed and begun to seize territory a declaration of war came from Moonhaven and Istralore. Perhaps they seek to take advantage of me being away from the Ruined Sea, perhaps at the behest of the traitorous particularists, or simple Human and Elven overconfidence. Regardless, I trust my captains to defend the Ruined Sea with everything they have.

Though we are separated from home by a hostile ocean and hostile fleets, we are well supplied. The manufactories of Mykx, powered by manual labourers burning through their lives with the power of green powder, have produced endless crates of prepared food, ammunition, and Demon's Blood. No doubt the Blood Bringers are ramping up their exports even further.

They knew exactly what they were doing. A fleet descended upon our foothold, maybe thinking that I had returned to Aelantir, but I was ready. The liberation of Viakkoc will not be interrupted. These are Gnollish lands, no matter what goddess or demon they worship.

Recruitment is stepping up, though not directly from the population. Our frontline sailors have been depleted by the repeated wars, but the pirate crews plying the waters of Aelantir are filled with experienced mariners. They can find ways to make up the numbers after we draft their crews into the Scourge Fleet.

When across the ocean, the only way to go is forward. Viakkoc himself had fled, making his way across his occupied territories to the Divenhal and then sailing to his Corinite allies in the heart of Cannor. I followed him, destroying every Cannorian fleet that stood between me and the Dameshead. The magnificent sight of the Mother Mykx descending upon their opulent coastline must have been terrifying, and tens of thousands of hungry Gnolls ravaging their cities will have brought up long-lost ancestral memories of times past, when they rightfully feared us.

Viakkoc was brought before me, and forced to kneel. Dressed in fine robes, purchased and not stolen, and muttering prayers to a Human of all creatures, he was a pitiful sight. I spared his head, and demanded his fealty to the Scourgemother, which is to say both to myself and the memory of Mykx. With his life on the line, no doubt knowing that his liberated soul would be end up in the presence of an angry Xhazob, he capitulated.

While he is likely to work against us, that is no problem. We have defeated Lorent, and Moonhaven recently surrendered and ceded more island territory. The path back to Sarhal is open, and from there, on to Cannor.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Is the Gnolls walking out of a Hell in the desert literal? Do they know where an entrance to Hell is?

Does Mykx hate Corin especially, or is she just their greatest (divine) enemy at the moment?

It is their mythological origin. As to how accurate it is, who knows in a world where magic and monsters are real.

As to Corin, she mostly earns the ire of the followers of Xhazob for two reasons, those being the Gnolls of Viakkoc abandonding the demons to convert to her faith and her being an 'honourable warrior'.

Chapter Sixteen: Double the Deck
1676-1688

Middle deck of the formerly Lorentish twodecker Ashen Rose, somewhere in the Ruined Sea, 1684

The ships creaked and moaned, and those moans became words that echoed up and down the length of the deck. Erik could track the sounds with his eyes, watch the demons twist and turn through the air of the vessel they had seized. He sniffled and rubbed at his nose, still tender from his last dose, and swayed in place as his eyes tracked the visitations above him

"Hey, you in?" Galin asked. He delivered a prod to Erik's ribs, and Erik almost tipped over.

"He's too far gone," Varil said, "but I'm in."

Varil lifted a tiny paper sachet from his belt, and jiggled it. The sound of the powder within drew Galin's attention, and he licked his lips.

"Two doses, minimum entry," he said.

"Two?" Varil moaned, "it's the two of us, not a Winebay card tourney."

As the two of them bartered back and forth, wagering their meagre powder rations to alleviate some of the limitless boredom of their enslavement, Erik let it wash over him as he embraced the madness that Demon's Blood drove into him.

It was, in some ways, a more pleasant experience than what had come before. As a Reachman fisherman, pressganged by the wine-guzzlers into their endless campaign against the pirates, the conditions he'd been forced into weren't much better than what he was in now. At least now, he could escape a little into his own mind. The occasional nightmare of demonic torment was a price he was comfortable paying to make everything else a little more interesting.

One of the Gnollish crew walked past, causing the other two to frantically hide their gambled doses and hand-crafted playing cards. She snorted and moved on. Not every Gnoll bothered to steal from the slaves. Some considered it beneath them, others were more than happy to work out their anger or frustration on a slave and steal their rations. The captain supposedly banned the crew stealing from each other, including slaves who needed their strength to man the guns, but most looked the other way when that was broken.

Being a little out of it, a little bit further gone than the rest of his cannon crew, made Erik less of a target. Probably because the Gnolls were more interested in beating the pride and dignity out of the ones who had managed to keep a little.

"Stay-," a voice growled from within the heavy metal mass of the cannon at his back.

Erik leaned towards it, listening intently.

"Stay- left-" it said.

"Left!" he shouted, causing Galin and Varil to startle and drop their cards. At the sight of their game falling apart, he broke into giggles interspersed with a dark rumble that came from somewhere even lower than his lungs.

"Hey, snap out of it you little lunatic," Galin snapped, standing and turning on Erik. He looked enormous and ferocious, like a Gnoll himself, with his hand raised to strike. Erik stared up and awaited the strike, knowing how good the pain would feel with the Blood still running through his body.

Before the strike could fall, a bell rang out across the deck, followed quickly by the barking of orders in Gnollish. Erik had picked up a decent amount in the six months they'd been enslaved, somehow more vocabulary than he was sure had been spoken.

"Cannon crews up!" the deckmaster shouted, "ready and prepare for hellfire."

Erik hopped to his feet and took up position at the front of the cannon, while the other two moved towards the back. As the smallest of them, he handled the loading while the other two pushed and aimed. Across the length of the deck, former sailors of Lorent groaned and moaned as they got into position, with those complaining loudest earning a quick crack across the side with a whip.

"Stay in position," the deckmaster continued, marching up and down and checking on the cannons, the crews, and the overseers, "do not disturb the priests."

Behind him, a pair of priests decked in more finery and jewellery than Erik had ever seen marched down, a Lorentish man who had clearly once been someone of high standing being dragged between them. But Erik was most interested in the waves of sound that he could see radiating off of the priests. A steady thrum-drum-drum that drew in all of the wailing visitors that filled the air.

They came to a stop at a brick structure that had been placed in the middle of the deck, then shoved the man inside. He groggily stared at his predicament, before a look of absolute terror dawned on his face and he began to scream and babble in Lorentish that even Erik couldn't understand. The door on the kiln was closed, the man's terror still pouring out of the cracks, and one of the priests began to murmur.

"In the name of Kentryn, we take what he has, to strike down his fellows," the priest said, before inserting a blade in between two bricks of the kiln.

The screaming rose in pitch and volume, and a horrific green light began to spill from within. A few moments later, green flames flickered. The screams continued as the priests caught the hellfire with special iron tools, and then began to distribute it to slots that had been cut into the cannon barrels, ready to transfer deadly demonic energy into each shot.

"Load and aim!" the deckmaster called out, his voice roaring over the cries of the still-roasting man.

Erik got to work, pouring in the gunpowder, ramming down the wad of padding, before finally rolling a cannonball down the length of the barrel. As he did so, the whole ship lurched and it felt for moment as though the cannon would roll forward and crush him between itself and the outer hull. Galin and Varil caught it, and Galin gave Erik a 'you owe me' look, not that Erik was in a position to recognise it.

He was too busy staring down the yawning void of metal that had stopped inches from his face. The voice from before echoed within. 'Stay left', it had said. Erik stared for a moment longer before moving around and standing on the left of the cannon. The crew on the cannon to the left of him complained, but he ignored them as the three crew of his cannon pushed it up to the gun port.

Outside, a ship as large as their loomed into view. It was going to be a broadside, both ways.

"Fire on my mark only!" the deckmaster shouted.

Erik grabbed a primer from the crew behind him, again ignoring their complaints and the whip of the overseer, and reached over the cannon to stick it into the slot for the hellfire. The metal glowed green-hot, and Erik was filled with the urge to stick it into his body and see what the demons would give him as a reward. He sniffed again, feeling a rush as he inhaled some powder that had remained on his scraggly beard.

Cannons pealed, the ship shuddered, and screams began to echo down from one end of the ship.

"Port side, from the stern, five second intervals!" the deckmaster shouted, and the overseers relayed with voice and whip.

As each firing cannon blasted behind him, Erik's ears rang, but he could hear the demons in the air being cleared out, their essences sucked into the hellfire workings of each shot. The fuse was five seconds, so the moment the cannon behind him rang, he lit the fuse of his own with hellfire, marvelling in the momentary deafening silence as it spewed angry green sparks all over the barrel.

The cannon sang, and then something exploded and pain splattered across Erik's face. Eyes screwed shut, he rubbed at a mix of blood and wooden shards to confirm it hadn't actually been torn off.

As the ship suddered from more impacts, he peered over the mass of the cannon to see the right-hand side of the gunport had just gone along with the deck behind it, with half of Galin's corpse, the other half nowhere to be seen, dangling by a rope into the deck below. The crews on the lower cannons were just about recovering from the shock of the shot hitting above their heads, and a moment later their screams of horror filled the air bringing just as many new visitors as had been consumed by the volley.

Erik pulled himself on top of the cannon, ready to prepare it for another shot, and stared out at the opposing vessel, which was now listing and firing cannonballs that hit the water before they hit the Ashen Rose. Green flame rippled up its side, wisps of faces and teeth biting into the wood to carry it to the true prizes, the sails and the gunpowder.

It was a beautiful sight, but he might need a little more to keep appreciating it so. He took a dose from his belt and inhaled it all once, then got back to work.

Excerpts from the journal of Izz Ridgeborn, Scourgemother of the Scourge Empire

As we find ourselves delving into the great continents of the east, I have ordered our most experienced commanders to return to Graxilzin to teach upcoming officers how to fight on land. Our viciousness can only carry us so far in battle, especially in a campaign that drags out across hundreds of miles.

They take with them news of the subjugation of Viakkoc, with orders to have it spread and celebrated across the Empire. Gnolls around the world should now know that their liberation from the gods and prophets of righteousness is soon at hand. We have grown into some far greater than what Mykx left behind.

Oops, I wonder if that localisation issue is fixed in a more recent version of the Bitbucket or not. You can get the gist of it from the effects, at least.

The Sarhal campaign is not yet over. Much Gnollish territory remains in foreign hands. The Lords of the Diven, also claiming to be the Chosen of the Khet, rule over Akan. However, their grip is weak. Their rivalry with Elizna over Kheterata itself has drained all of their mandate for rule of the Sarhal, their subjects are restive and their armies are on the verge of breaking. Our victory is assured.

Our armies cross the desert, while marines seized the northern coast. Upon arrival, they were faced with three times their numbers drafted from across the vast and fractured Fangaula Empire. Both we and they were born in distant lands, but only one of us considered this their homeland. They could not stand up to our fury and dissolved under our attacks.

Low mandate is a really killer. I reckon the only reason they haven't collapsed yet is because their main rival, the Jadd Empire, is getting hammered just as hard.

One of the great mountain fortresses used by the Fangaula was seized, along with a port and all of the valuables that we could extract from occupied lands. Viakkoc protested that we hadn't liberated his entire nation, but I showed him his place. A base on the Divenhal for direct strikes against Cannor is critical to bringing hellfire back to these waters.

Without dragging out the war to attack their homeland, a tricky prospect when Court & Country still needs to be cleared out and Lorent could attack at any moment, I wasn't getting much more. Securing a port on the north coast was the key goal of the war.

At the end of these campaigns, I returned to Ilzin Mykx after several years of absence. New of my victories in Cannor and Sarhal have spread far and wide, and the people of Mykx hunger for further expansion. I have plans, many carried forward from my processor, to extend our reach even further.

With my return, the last few holdouts were either forced to come to terms or else uprooted and annihilated by force. Ilzin Mykx is the centre of government, Graxilzin is the centre of the military, Graxarr is the centre of the Kult, and above it all the Scourgemother is the heart of the nation. The outlying islands, the smugglers, the minor pirates all have to answer to me, my successors, and Mykx' memory if they dare stand against our goals.

Getting the best outcome for Court & Country was out of reach, but the middle outcome is still decent.

Before I set sail for my next project, I handed further authority to the electoral council to appoint advisors for matters of state. Though I may be the heart, I don't consider myself the sole mind. To try and run the nation by myself would be impossible. I need competent Gnolls, or others if they display skill and the desire to serve Xhazob, to run things while I fight for our victory.

The piratical option at this tier gives us Parliament, which I don't think fits with the character we've built for Mykx. This is minor, but helpful, compared to the other options.

With the state secure, I conducted a tour of the Ruined Sea, in particular holding a meeting at Ynnsmouth with our backers from Ebenmas and West Tipney, then travelling onto Neratica to renegotiate their protection agreements and discuss potentially assisting them reclaiming land stolen by Moonhaven. That we can even talk on such a level is something that I am sure Mykx would never have imagined, though some things haven't changed. I ensured that the Mother Mykx was in view at all times during negotiations, looming like a monstrosity half-crawled from the Pits, to remind them to remain on our good side.

Once you reach the halfway point of de-monsterizing, all the penalties are halved. This is a big help for getting Viakkoc across the line into loyalty.

Once more, Lorent has struck at us. This time we are positioned to strike back. I sail for Viakkoc, and from there, Cannor.

It was to be a daring raid, though I had the foresight to not risk the Mother Mykx, leaving Admiral Ikse with our finest warship to guard the Ruined Sea. With a full fleet of war galleons, I descended on the Lorentish coast, and engaged their flagship with the intention to crush them within the sight of their own lands. Lorent's warships were far more than I anticipated. Massive vessels with two full decks of cannons that could deliver a broadside twice as powerful as one of ours, hellfire or not. Then, the warships from their escort fleet moved to engage bringing in a commander who was almost as skilled as I was.

Trapped between the Lorentish coast and the island of Venáil and outnumbered, the other admiral used their superior warships to force me into ever more dangerous positions. The fog lay heavy on the sea, and several of our ships ran aground as we contended with their positioning. Finally, I ordered a withdrawal to Gnollakan Harbour, while departing on the swiftest vessel to make ready the Ruined Sea for their counterattack with the deadly Twodeckers.

Getting overconfident a bit. Having a bunch of bonuses to naval combat that let you punch above your weight falls does not do so well against a technological disadvantage, plus the fact that we've spent the last few decades building up Lorent's naval tradition giving them admirals almost as good as ours.

They have not let up. The hammer blow I feared came swiftly, as I took back command of the Mother Mykx and attempted to hold the southern passageway into the Ruined Sea. With one squadron still repairing in Sarhal and the other holding northern pass, we were soundly beaten again.

Now, the battered remnants of the Scourge Fleet hide in port with nearly half of its vessels lost to the waters. I have given the order to consolidate the remaining squadrons in Aelantir to bolster the Scourge Fleet back to full strength, but we need to pick our battles carefully. The only upside is that the war on the mainland is going smoothly. The Orcs are proving their worth, as they pour from Soruin to ravage the Lorentish colonies in the region.

The tide of twodeckers is turning. Lorent made the critical error of splitting their forces, allowing Ikse commanding the Gate Fleet to catch their vanguard without support and seize a full half of their frigates. She then turned and immediately struck at the main convoy, which was lagging behind. In this battle, outnumbering the twodeckers three-to-one, she took almost all of them for Mykx.

Having captured examples gave us all the information we needed to have the shipyards start producing twodeckers themselves, and have the Scourge Fleet refitted to match Lorentish technology. Even the Mother Mykx is undergoing a rebuild, our Kult priests working overtime to drench the wood and rope with the blood and souls needed to make it into the demon-cursed monster it ought to be.

Now, I sit safely off their very coastline, crates full of citrus fruit and Demon's Blood filling my hold, and soon Lorentish gold alongside it. They fear us and hide in their ports, despite their numbers.

We could end the war right now, but I want a decisive victory. For the first time we can strike at their homeland, make them cower in their beds and let them know fear. This will not end until I can deliver swathes of their colonies into our hands.

A good showing as to why these wars have been so exhausting. It took until 40% war score just to get a white peace, and until we could start hitting Lorent proper we couldn't really get enough more to make major gains.

The people of Mykx, seeing our strength, are behind their Scourgemother. The power of the host reaches out from the depths of the craterous Ruined Sea, and touches Cannor. Lorent's remaining armies in Aelantir have been crushed, their fleets are in hiding, their gods are unable to save them.

When I finally agree to let them have their waters back, it is done from a position of power. Aboard the Mother Mykx, surrounded by the damned souls of their captured, enslaved, and sacrificed sailors, we negotiated. Removing Lorentish influence from Aelantir entirely is a distant dream, but the Banished Isles can serve as a shield against further invasion from the east. A full half of Endralliande, and all remaining Lorentish territory on the Ravenous Isle, is ceded. Our warriors are already entering our new territory to tear down what they can and assemble fortifications to ensure we keep it.

This is the single greatest acquisition of territory since Soruin was seized, but unlike then, when we had no choice but to hand administration over to the Orcs, this is in our capacity to take. The Lorentish colonial officials are drafted in to work for the Blood Bringer administrators, their systematic bureaucratic techniques integrated into our offices, and we begin to turn over the plantations of the island to the production of Demon's Blood precursors.

We managed to raze enough to immediately get the next level of admin tech, which is one that also makes coring cheaper.

While this war saw very little combat on land, there were new innovations seen in the brutal close quarters of ship combat. Several crews attempted to overcome the firepower advantage of the Lorentish twodeckers by slinging grenades loaded with hellfire over the deck to ignite and shred their sails and rain death down on the crew. Countless Gnolls lost limbs and lives to shoddy construction, but those who survived brought their designs back and soon the manufactories were churning out grenades that can be empowered on the battlefield by priests.

Also mil tech…

Our tendrils have reached Cannor, and our smugglers are operating across Sarhal and Haless, making inroads. The Scourge Empire has just delivered a mighty blow to the greatest power on Halann. There is nowhere in the world that is safe from us, from our ambition, from the Scourge-of-all-seas.

And diplo tech. Tech 23 is a real important one all round, so this is very good timing.

To be continued…

Vote

The sixth idea slot is open, although we haven't actually finished either Maritime or Quality, or even Religious. Depending on what is selected, it may take a while to open it up. Which do you think will be best for Mykx' future?

Administrative – As expansion continues, the new administration will need to keep up with the new territories, even if they have been razed to the ground as part of the conquest.
Economic – The economy remains unstable, reliant on piracy and plunder to stay afloat. Giving it a kick would improve the baseline and let us spend the plunder on growing the military and production base.
Trade – Another option is to expand the smuggling networks and produce more maximum-size Demon's Blood export ports.
Influence – Viakkoc has been brought to heel opening up the possibility of using him as a proxy for expansion in Sarhal and Cannor, and as demonsterizing progresses the possibility of building a network of more vassals like Ozgarom to fight our wars on the mainland has reappeared.
Offensive – Strike quickly, siege quickly, slaughter quickly
Mercenary – Gold speaks, more than nation or religion. Manpower is our greatest deficit if we wish to engage the great powers of Cannor directly, but there are those among them who would side with the Xhazob himself for payment.

Vote below by clicking on the image. Up to two votes are allowed.


Voting will last 48 hours.

 

[Sybot]

Chapter Seventeen: Hegemonic Consolidation
1688-1701

The Mother Mykx, offshore from Toref Citadel, 1694

Light bloomed from Citadel before they could even see it. The afternoon sun cast streams of gold onto the water below, and the crew hooted with delight at the prospect of stripping the walls bare for loot.

"Don't get distracted!" Ik called out over the roar of the wind, the waves crashing against the cape, and the wails of damned trapped within the planks of the vessel. She was stood behind Captain Grorr atop the aft castle, spyglass in hand to evaluate the Citadel once it came into view.

Grorr had his own work to do, handing out constant orders to his underlings. The reports from Arkez' failed invasion of Eborthíl fifty years earlier had reported a massive fortification of the structure, but who knew how much more the Busilari had done to it since then, especially with Gnollish vessels now freely roaming the Divenhal once more. Guns were being elevated, crews were being positioned for repairs and fire management, and the sails were readied to be taken down at a moment's notice.

Ik spun her spyglass in her paw, tapped her foot, and spoke up.

"Back in Mykx' days, we stormed the lower dockyards to take the Citadel," she said, "how do you rate our chances of doing that?"

"With respect, Admiral, I don't think the Mother Mykx could fit into the cave," Grror replied.

"Maybe with some of captured Fangaulan ships then, and if we can't seize it, we fill the whole thing enough hellfire that it'll take them years to rebuild it."

Grorr looked at her, then chuckled and got back to his work. There was already a plan to storm the fortress, it just depended on what exactly they were about to face. Burning it all down was always an option.

The whole vessel leaned, its structure creaking and groaning as it strained against the sudden change in direction. With the cape passing, the Golden Citadel came into view. The Busilari had not stripped away the gold adorning its walls. Perhaps it was a challenge to the Gnolls, or perhaps whoever ruled it was just as much a braggart as one of them. Either way, it stood tall, both built into and overlooking jagged cliffs. At the base of the cliffs, the cave entrance was guarded by heavy metal gates that were as jagged as the cliffs themselves. It seemed as though they had learned their lessons.

Ik peered through her spyglass.

"There are cannons at almost every window," she said, "I can't see any-"

Her words were drowned out by the roar of cannons from an unexpected direction. Wood screamed as it shattered, splinters filled the air, and Ik dug her boots into the deck to keep from tipping over as the flagship shook. She and Grror turned to looked, and found themselves nearly face-to-face with an entire battery of cannons in an unexpected direction. It had been built into the cape they had just rounded, hidden from their approach.

"So, they do learn," Ik said.

Screams and cries came from below where they had been hit, while the yells of overseers and the crack of whips brought the panicking slaves back into line.

"We're out of position," Grror growled, "and the cannons are all pointed up."

"Then we keep going," Ik said. "We assault the fortress. Mother Mykx can take it."

She stepped down from the aft castle before he could respond, leaving him to deal with the orders he'd just been handed.

"Signal the following ships," he said to one of the crew holding on tightly to the ropes for the mizzen-mast, "tell them to rake the battery with fire as they pass, then straight on to the fortress."

The aft castle shuddered under his feet as the vessel turned and presented its aft to the battery, the next volley blasting the cabins, including his own. His ship would have to suffer a little, he might lose some treasure, but victory was just within reach. The fortress loomed high above them, but not so high that a well-aimed broadside could not hit it.

Cannons roared in both directions as the Mother Mykx fought a duel with the land itself. Sails tore, leaving wisps of spirits flailing in the wind before they knitted themselves back together, strips of decking tore away with blood and water coating the deck in equal measure.

But Toref Citadel did not come off any better. Green explosions ran up and down its walls, hellfire pouring in through every available opening and the screeches of its ignited defenders cutting through the sounds of battle. Flame danced across the Citadel, and the golden exterior began to warp and distort, until there were visible streams of molten gold dripping down the walls and onto the rocks below. Smoke filled the bay as more warships joined the barrage, engaging both the naval battery and the fortress itself.

On the main deck, ankle deep in blood but still standing tall, the marines stationed aboard the Mother Mykx stood to attention, ignoring the battle around them. Ik was addressing them, as cannons around them were loaded with grappling hooks. It would be a direct cliffside assault, into the burning and melting walls, to hit the defenders from a direction they would never expect. For good reason, it was a suicidal plan, but the marines were listening intently to Ik's speech.

"I've seen all your faces before, in Endralliande, Varionàil, Akan, and Deshak!" she said. "We've fought our way from one end of the ocean to the other, just to return here. Mykx knew we would return, knew that Viakkoc would snivel at our feet, knew that we would claim what was ours."

She pointed a sword up at the burning fortress above them.

"In there, the Humans live off of the treasure that is rightfully ours. They shelter the descendants of the slaves who should serve us. They squat in Mykx' own birthplace! We are going up there to strip them of everything they hold, from gold to their very freedom! Climb up, take everything you can carry, then open the lower gates and meet us out here. In the name of Mykx, and the Scourgemother!"

A resounding cheer roared across the deck, followed momentarily by the thundering of cannons as dozens of grappling hooks shot up into the walls of the fortress.

Ik stepped back and returned to Grror's side as the marines began to climb, with blades between their teeth and pistols loaded at their hip. Nearby, other ships began launching their own assaults, ropes going up and shadowy furred figures climbing up the sheer cliff while silhouetted by the flames consuming the fortress.

"They definitely know we're back now," Grror said.

Ik shook her head.

"This is just the beginning," she said, "I won't stop until the whole world sees our hegemony."

Excerpts from the journal of Ik Ridgeborn, daughter of Scourgemother Izz Ridgeborn

My first posting, shepherding a bunch of landlubber soldiers from island to island while they put any resistance to the sword. The Banished Isles are filled with pitiful little things bemoaning the ruins around them, but even their attempts to show us their strength fall flat. Mother, Scourgemother, is still in Sarhal with the Scourge Fleet after kicking the tar out of Lorent, but I bet she had a hand in giving me such a boring position. She's too soft on me, I want some action.

We participated in the completion of the conquest of the Ravenous Isle, even if most of it was spent watching from a harbour on the inner side of the Cliffs of Ruin while the outer coast was subjugated. I participate in an expedition deeper into the interior, where the remains of a Gnollish settlement had been found amongst the flesh-eating plants that dominate the jungle. Based on the age of the coinage we found, this Gnoll was probably one of the captains who betrayed Mykx and tried to form their own pirate haven. Looks like the scum got what was coming to them.

As a nation with a capital in the New World, we can actually declare war on colonial nations without dragging in the overlord. Previously making anything of that was hindered by a lack of gov cap, and then by getting chain-declared on by Cannor.

When not coddling the soldiers, we are escorting administrators out to their new postings. We've grabbed ports all over Aelantir, and only now are the Blood Bringers actually leaving their cushy administrations to deal with local problem. Considering how lawless some of the outlying ports I've seen are, this'll be an improvement.

If not administrators, then construction materials. The smugglers are being contracted out to purchase the stuff from Cannor. The Cannorians won't deal with us directly, but put a few intermediaries in the way, grease a few palms with gold or powder, and suddenly we have access to Elven lumber and Dwarven marble.

At last, mother has called on me to real action. I arrived in Sarhal, along with tens of thousands of other Gnolls, to participate in the great 'liberation'. I wouldn't call it that, considering the land'll be going to that Human-loving snake, Viakkoc, but mother kept her distance so I couldn't complain to her. Fangaula is still struggling to hold onto Kheterata, so this'll be no problem.

I was ordered to land the marines on the northern coast, while the main army pushed up through the desert. The fort walls crumbled like dust under the hellfire barrage of the Mother Mykx, and we swept inside and exterminated all resistance in a matter of days. Afterwards, we withdrew the marines to Gnollakan Harbour to drive off attempts to take the port and cut off our supplies, while the army rolled over the remaining defences.

Seeing the Scourge Fleet in battle, obliterating the Fangaulan ships, hits home how we are unmatched on the seas. No matter how far the Cannorians innovate, we will always be nipping at their heels, stealing their innovations for our own, and getting stuck into the thick of battle to put those ideas to the test.

The Lord of the Diven himself made an appearance to drive us out. For all his bluster and numbers, his soldiers were disloyal and broke under the army's grenade volleys. Our control over Akan was solidified.

As we waited in port, I was called to mother's chambers on the Mother Mykx. She was sick, and wanted me to promise to keep the Scourge Fleet growing, and deliver death directly onto Cannor's shores, to a level she had never managed. That was a lot to put on me, and I ranted at her for assigning me to babysit transports and holding me back, until I realised that she had passed. I didn't know how I felt about that, I still don't.

Haayow, still back in Aelantir where she can manipulate the electoral council, will probably take over. She's a puppet of the Blood Bringers, more interested in expanding the economy and bureaucracy than seizing power as we should. No doubt she'll want to bring the current war to a close sooner rather than later.

Her first act of note was opening relations with the International Gommo, which I found out when a group of Gnomes showed up on the Mother Mykx, very interested in the properties of Demon's Blood. I told them to go pester the Blood Bringers, then threw them off the ship. Back onto their own vessel and not into turbulent ocean, as I so wanted to.

Not really going to touch artificery this time around so I just take the Gommo for the production efficiency.

Despite orders to wind down the war effort, a division of Orcs hopped up on Demon's Blood pushed on through Elizna to Kheterata itself, dragging Viakkoc's army along with them. As the ancient city burned, we received terms of peace from the Lord of the Diven, ending the war before we could seize all the haughty felines' treasures.

Gnollish territory was returned directly to Viakkoc, while we stripped the Human lands of everything they had then handed it to the pitiable snake for administration. We retained Deshak harbour, our first Demon's Blood port on the Divenhal. As orders came to withdraw to Aelantir and let the Blood Bringers pick up administration in the city, I stared out over the Divenhal, calling upon Xhazob to grant me sight of the rich lands over the horizon, and thought back to mother's request.

I marched onto the Mother Mykx, duelled Admiral Thex and threw him from the prow with my own hands, then called upon the priests to project my voice across the Scourge Fleet. I spoke from my heart, saying that we would not withdraw until we had shown Cannor that we had returned, and they were no longer safe wherever they hid. The world will be scourged. We set out for Cannor, so they might remember our fangs on their necks.

Our first port of call was Toref Citadel, Mykx' birthplace. With the power of the Scourge Fleet, we ravaged the Isles of Tef, taking home endless gold from the mines and countless slaves descended from those who had been liberated when the citadel was retaken. I'm sure somewhere among them I can find the great-great-great grandchildren of Mykx' family scribe, whose writings are still kept as important historical documents in the Ilzin Mykx archives.

As we ravaged the Cannorian coastline, increasingly urgent missives arrived from Izlin Mykx. Haayow has created a full administrative council and demanded that the Scourge Fleet returns to be reorganized based on the advice of a bunch of landlubbers. I am ignoring these, and will return when, and only when, we are done here.

On the way back, we encountered many Lorentish vessels bound for South Aelantir. Capturing and interrogating a few of their crew, we found that they are currently fighting a losing war against Larankar, the dominant native nation in the south. With their distraction, I took the initiative and had the returning fleet and marines land on and seize the remainder of Endralliande without any hope of intervention from their homeland. Haayow can consider it a gift for her new administrative council to manage.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I returned, so I landed at Graxilzin with a battalion of our best-drilled marines rather than face Ilzin Mykx. Representatives from the administrative council met me and we hashed out a deal. My exploits in Cannor and Endralliande had made me a heroine among the common Gnolls, so removing me was not an option, not that I'd let them. The Blood Bringers offered concessions that would see a significant fraction of the fleet's costs paid out of their Demon's Blood profits, and I would be given full authority as Grand Admiral of the Scourge Fleet. In exchange I would, bluntly, not storm Ilzin Mykx to make myself Scourgemother. Haayow can have the post, the Fleet is still the premier power in the Scourge Empire.

Word has filtered from Viakkoc of a great rising of Gnollish warriors in the deepest parts of the desert. The Jadd Empire has finally imploded, and they have liberated themselves from Elven domination. The only downside is, like Viakkoc, they have succumbed to a foreign religion. The Kult is concerned the Jaddari zealots will locate and seal the entrance to the Pits of Grillax, but even I don't know what we can do about that, as deep inland as it is.

I have to admit that Haayow does have somewhat of a head for running things. She has set up a national bank run by our dwarven slaves. I don't think I'd trust any other Gnoll with my money, so a bunch of slaves with nowhere to run or hide might be the best ones to run it. She's even offered them some luxuries so they won't be tempted to risk going back into the mines and construction sites.

She's also given more concessions to the Fleet, giving retired captains priority for high-ranking government posts and positions on the administrative council. I bet she's dropped a lot in the reckoning of her backers, just to keep me from the throne. I wonder if she can handle it.

The corruption slider now needs to sit at 65% just to break even. At this point I have cranked it up to max and left it there.

It did not take long. Stress, overwork, whatever. Haayow passed away at her desk, and I sailed the Mother Mykx into the Grand Harbour to meet adoring crowds and accept my ascendance to Scourgemother. This is the hour of the Scourge Fleet. What mother started; I will complete.

My first order was a mass-shipbuilding program. We have the infrastructure to support a far larger fleet than we currently field, and there are many parts of Aelantir that have not felt the touch of our raiders in decades. A massive expansion of the pirate fleet, as well a new division of the army and transports to ferry them, will allow us to extend our reach across the world.

I do have to credit Haayow a little though. The economic reforms she set off are paying dividends as I strip the treasury bare to fund the expansion of the fleet. Her economists have kept things stable through careful management of the national bank, and have even managed to keep rampant price inflation from all the money being thrown around under control.

Being Scourgemother has made me opne to all sorts of weirdos who want to try and influence the way I rule. The latest batch are academics who have shipped in huge batches of books and pamphlets from Cannor, in which some long-winded bores reason themselves into ridiculous positions. That said, there are some interesting ideas in there. 'Deàlsal Rialt', or 'Benevolent Kingdom' is a book on the greatest empires in history, from the Precursor Empire, to Castanor, to the Phoenix Empire, to Lorent, building a narrative that Men and Elves, together, produce the greatest civilizations. I'd like to see them come up against us on the water. 'The Damerian Burden' is more interesting, focusing on the 'civilising' of the orcs who were enslaved during the Greentide and Corintide, and how the chains can benefit both master and servant. I might hand it over to the council to see if they can apply it to our slave management.

Vertesk is one of the main slave trading hubs in Cannor. Ironic that they spawned the Enlightenment, but perhaps appropriate.

I have returned to Akan to finish the liberation of Viakkoc. Elizna is deep in their own campaign against the Jaddari remnants, so this is the perfect chance to strike down their ally and free the remaining Gnolls in the region to join us in our attack on Cannor.

The campaign has been slow going so far, as the Ekhans have heavily fortified the inland mountains where my guns cannot reach. Meanwhile, a detachment of their forces is pushing in from the east, making the war a race between us and them in taking forts. Not very exciting, really, apart from a brief action where I obliterated the Eliznan navy. So, I have something else in mind.

I will take the Scourge Fleet into the Dameshead, stand it just outside the waters of Anbenncóst, the 'City of the World's Desires', and challenge any of them to stop me. My fleets operate unimpeded across half the world, and soon the other half too. The seas are my hegemony.

With 500 ships total and the largest fleet of heavy warships in the world, we can proclaim Naval Hegemony. Normally I would be cautious and consider whether this would alienate our allies, as it acts like a giant middle finger to AI nations (which is why I never took Economic Hegemon as Orlghelovar). However, we already have no allies besides those we've subjugated so there's nothing stopping us from jumping right on it.

To be continued…

 

[Sybot]

Interlude: Great Powers of the 18th Century
1718

Excerpts from Rise of Hegemons, published in Tellum, 1843 AA

The eighteenth century since the Day of Ashen Skies was a period that saw the consolidation and expansion of the empires that have dominated recent history. A multipolar world began to emerge, with nearly every continent bearing one of the Great Powers. They would soon come to blows not for ideology, nor for faith, but for simple economic or military gain over one another. Even in the early years of the century, each sought to make themselves Hegemon of an aspect of the world. Mykx had already claimed the seas, while Lorent assembled its armies to claim the land and Bim Lau and the High Dominion fought for economic dominance of the flow of trade.

Before we delve into the conflicts and fates of these mighty nations, we will see just what they were in this early phase.

The Kingdom of Lorent cannot be discussed without also addressing the Empire of Anbennar. With the Half-Elven sil Wex dynasty sitting atop the throne of both powers, and the wealthy Elven state of Celmaldor aligned with their interests, they hold a stranglehold over the economy of a continent. Matters of religion have long since passed, a reconciliation of sort between the Adeanic Lorentish and the Corinite Wexonards in the face of greater threats beyond the borders of Cannor.

Considering themselves the true inheritors of Elvenkind, after the collapse of the fledgling Venaili colonisation effort, they have pushed to unify Aelantir under their rule, only to be stymied by the rise of the Scourge Empire. Despite this, they continue colonial efforts, with trading companies being established along the coast of Sarhal and Haless, and ongoing efforts to push deeper inland on continental Aelantir to establish an unbreakable presence that the Gnolls cannot touch.

On their home front, Lorent is an absolute monarchy that nonetheless maintains significant privileges for the nobility in order to maintain control of its vast territory. So long as the King's decrees are followed, trade and thought are relatively free. Most civilised races are treated as equals, though the vast Halfling populations of the breadbasket Small Country are generally treated with disdain, and any 'monster' that finds itself in Lorentish borders is most likely to find themselves before a firing squad.

Powerful, forward-thinking, and unified, Lorent stands against all who might threaten Cannor.

Arising from a mysterious portal, the Runelink, in the Dwarf Hold of Ovdal Lodhum, the Obsidian Legion struck out and seized the Serpentreach mountains, subjugating all the Dwarven reclaimer states in the region and purging any Orcs or Goblins they encountered. As their control extended further across the Serpentspine, they proclaimed the High Dominion, the extension of the Obsidian Empire that existed in the deep unknown depths of the Primeval Serpentspine.

Though their focus has always been on rebuilding the ancient Dwarven empire in their own image, they have not stopped at the mountains. The Deepwoods have been invaded and are in the process of being clearcut to fuel their industry, large portions of Bulwar have been seized to act as buffer zones, and Dwarven explorers have taken to the seas to discover what the world beyond is like. Unlike the isolationist Dwarves of old, they have shown a great interest in understanding and innovation. Humans and Gnomes are welcome within their walls, and artificers work to industrialize the nation further.

The High Dominion is ruled by the Obsidian Council, which is made up of the five greatest families who passed through the Runelink, in the name of the Runefather who has been interred in the Obsidian Throne indefinitely. All decisions by the Council must be unanimous, and all citizens must follow them without question. No other faith is tolerated within their borders, with all inhabitants of all races expected to show their faith to the Runefather in temples that are springing up both within the holds and on the surface territories.

Mountain and surface alike, the High Dominion's goal is that all praise the Obsidian Throne.

At one time, the Empire of Bim Lau was just one of many states that sprung up in the wake of the collapse of the Phoenix Empire. Faced with the strength of Bhuvauri to their west, and the Command and Xiaken to their north, the lords of Bim Lau found routes for expansion to the south and east. With their heartland guarded by lines of forts and their northern flank secured by the Phokao mountains, there was nothing to prevent them from bringing all of southern Yanshen under their control.

They are builders before anything else. Centuries maintaining the great Necropolis of Bim Lau and the countless temples that dot Haless have instilled a sense of architecture that extends across their nation. Vast organised farms and plantations produce food enough for millions with room left over for cash crops, while workshops and manufactories see the early days of industrialization in the east. Their land is covered in forts, each garrisoned not just by the living, but by the spirits of warriors long dead, defending what they have built.

While the Emperor seated in Bim Lau rules with an iron fist, he has reached an accord with the nobility tasked with maintaining each of the multitude of forts across the nation. Together, they build up and prepare to claim Haless for themselves.

Building itself up as the Harimari Raj collapsed, Bhuvauri rapidly became the predominant power of Rahen. As the Command imploded, they advanced north. As the Jadd Empire fell to invasion, they advanced west. Everywhere they marched, they brought with them their policy. Hierarchy is slavery, all are slaves of the state, and this is the principle that we run our state by.

The Adesadata is merely the slave above all other slaves, with a convoluted series of committees and electors used to select the most meritous candidate and put them in the ultimate position of authority whether they want it or not. The same is true from top to bottom, slaves owning slaves, slaves assigned by merit, regardless of race or religion all must do their duty. It has produced an oddly egalitarian society as a result; all are treated equally, one way or another.

Though Bhuvauri powerful and wealthy, Bim Lau remains a thorn in their side. To combat them, they have drafted up vast numbers of slave soldiers and spent inordinate amounts of money on mercenaries making an army larger than any bar Lorent or the High Dominion. A coalition of nations from Yanshen opposes them, so for the moment they contend with feasting on the Jadd remnants.

Should they claim Haless, liberty on the continent will die.

As Escann recovered from the Greentide, it was faced with a challenge of a different kind. The Corintide, Orcs riled into religious fervour in the name of Corin, swept across the Human reclaimers and consumed them all before descending upon the Empire of Anbennar itself. When the Corintide failed to make significant gains within the Empire, beyond the Emperor converting, they descended upon one in the Escanni Wars of Consolidation until only one stood at the top. The Kingdom of Khozrugan reigns over Escann, and seeks conquest even further abroad.

They might be considered an army with a state. The warg-riders of the Rotcleaver tribe were the forebears of the kingdom, a legacy that remains to this moment. With cavalry as the predominant component of their army, they present unparalleled mobility in the age of slow-moving blocks of infantry and artillery. This has allowed them to stand up against much larger and stronger forces such as Lorent and the High Dominion, though the question remains how relevant warg-riders will remain as technology advances.

A careful balance has been struck, as the nation has modernized, between the needs of the army and the needs of the rest of the nation. The estates are given authority over their aspects of the nation, whether that be faith, economy, or administration, while the mage-king rules from warg-back. Ironically, despite the worship of Corin, Humans are seen as inferior along with most other races, and a policy of Orcish settlement of conquered lands has been instituted, slowly turning Escann and beyond green.

Another tide may yet arise, and bring Cannor to crisis once more.

Another army with a state, but in a different way to the Orcs. The city of Jiangdu was an ancient centre of military theory, with the famous treatise the Art of War being written by Lian Zhu in 496AA. Despite this, it never managed to become more than a middling state through the centuries until it was pushed to the very edge of destruction, all lands beyond the city lost. The army seized power, and retaliated, advancing rapidly to become the strongest power in North Yanshen, defeating the Oni of the Demon Hills and participating in the destruction of the Command.

Having forged a coalition with Bim Lau and the remaining independent states of Yanshen, the Stratocratic Republic of Jiangdu stand as the primary line of defence against foreign invasion. Many of the Hobgoblin Command have been integrated into their command structure, and even the demonic Oni have been recruited to guard the western passes in their territory.

Despite military rule, life within their borders is free and fair. Civilians have full voting rights for their local leaders, free trade and innovation is encouraged, and wealth flows down the Yanhe river to the allied ports of Tianlou and Feiten. Yanshen has been unified in a way, not by force as one might expect from such warriors, but by prosperity and diplomacy.

Can such a harmonious balance survive the coming century?

When the Day of Ashen Skies ravaged Aelantir, the Tachyend descended into anarchy. It was only in the hills of Larankar that any order was to be found among brutality and cruelty. Carefully guarding their wealth, they lasted out the dark centuries and ultimately returned to reconquer the Tachyend in the name of peace. Such peace would not last forever, as Lorent, eager to secure its place in the New World, struck at them repeatedly. Aided by the Myxkic hegemony over the oceans, the Amarayam of Larankar has held against Cannorian aggression, and even advanced, seizing the Kheionai colonies to their west.

The Larankhara view is that any means are necessary to secure their independence and peace. When they descended into the Tachyend they meted out justice that was just as brutal as the anarchy that came before, but the survivors of the initial invasion prospered until the Lorentish invasion brought war back to their shores. Now they are once again on a war footing, ravaging Lorentish settlements wherever they find them, and seizing once-friendly territory from their fellow natives.

At one time, the nation was dominated by the wealthy Elven refugees from the collapse of the Tachyend, but over time their privileges were curtailed and now the nation as an absolute monarchy driven to defend itself by any means. Though, recently the rulers have turned to innovation and exploration to seek new ideas for their own defence.

If they can survive the incursion of Lorent and the predations of Mykx, they could come to dominate Aelantir.

Of course, there were many other powers competing, nipping at the heels of the Great Powers to prove themselves in the new century. As nations unified, hegemonies arose, and the siren song of Demon's Blood spread around the world, who would emerge atop it? We know the answer now, but at that moment, much remained in flux.

To be continued…