Hello all,

I was just thinking about if we could start another season of HWP? I'd like this to be a more sustainable version of the game, and am open to any and all ideas.

I think one thing to note is that moderators who can help out in anyway are welcome to apply to become a moderator. We do need some more active people to run the subreddit. It shouldn't be too much work, just weekly maintenance of the subreddit.

Let me know what you all think.

Thanks.

In case you have not joined our discord, you can follow the link here.

Mood

##Documented lecture by Aeschylus, Magister of Corinth, to his Mágos Circle.

*“Today we embark on an immersive journey as we reflect on Arcadia’s union with Sparta, a time when the winds of ambition and conquest swept across the hallowed lands of our sacred realm. Our gaze turns towards the inevitable ascension of the Arcadian city-states, a saga woven with strategic brilliance and cultural intrigue. ”As we delve into the depths of this historical canvas, our focus crystallizes on the pivotal arc of the Arcadian Consolidation of the Peloponnese.”

”Ah, but the Peloponnese, a theater of city-states vying for dominance, could scarcely brace itself for the meteoric rise of Arcadia! Armed with audacity and tactical acumen, Arcadia embarked on a journey to reshape the tapestry of power.”

”But dear scholars of Daphnis, what sets this campaign apart is the enigmatic dance of diplomacy and martial prowess exhibited during the integration of none other than the legendary Spartans. Yes, those stoic champions of martial tradition, the Spartans, were not merely subjugated, but… entwined into the very fabric of Arcadian dominion.”

"Picture it: The Arcadians, architects of a new order, employing a tapestry of diplomatic overtures and strategic unions to soften the transition. This wasn't a crude subjugation, no! It was a symphony of cultures and aspirations merging, where Spartan traditions met Arcadian pragmatism."

”From the hallowed halls of the agoge to the citadels of Arcadian governance, a delicate equilibrium was established. A veritable dance of old and new, where Arcadian influence swirled with Spartan tenacity, ultimately birthing a hybrid identity that resonates through the ages."

”Of course, it would be the Mágosterum who dominated this union. It would be the Mágosterum who forged order from entropic chaos. Wisdom from decrepit barbarity. Prosperity from disparaging poverty. For all its glory, the fledgling Spartans were naught but soldierly luddites grasping at the capetails of Arcadian enlightenment. Again, it would be the Arcadian legacy that prevailed.”

Map of territorial changes

Reference map

​

In the hill-forests outside Gurgum, a dozen men sweat in the brush.

"This is folly. Let's go back now, while we still can."

"Well what other choice do we have? They won't stay out of the crops, and just last night they tore down half a house. My nephew's leg was broken. What will they do next?"

A warning rumble answered them from the clearing ahead, and a mass of moonlit skin shifted under the trees. Fingers tightened around makeshift wooden spears.

"Now!"

--- --- ---

drip. drip. drip.

Fat red beads of blood fell from a broken nose onto the polished granite of the audience chamber's floor. It was silent otherwise. The Watnišha's chief accountant whispered amid oiled locks of hair. Finally, he withdrew, and the lord turned his attention at last to the battered peasants kneeling before him.

"The great beasts are the personal property of your Lord, gifts to my house from Tarḫunz himself. How dare you harass them? Answer now, and beg mercy."

The bleeding man stifled a sob. He shot a baleful glance to his right, at the man who had talked him into this against his better judgement, and then trained his gaze back on the growing pool of crimson. The ringleader shifted his weight in doubt, then raised his head slightly, careful to avoid meeting the lord's eyes.

"We meant no insult or harm, Lord. We meant only to frighten the creatures off. They have stolen near half our crop, and a week ago they trampled-"

"You presume too much. The beasts are mine. All the corn of my country is mine, also. Is it not my sacrifices that bring prosperity to the fields? And yet you will not share the bounty of your Lord with his own stock. Greed is a terrible sin. Ingratitude is a deadly one."

There was another sob.

"But I am not cruel. The Tutelary Goddess of Gurgum teaches mercy, above all things. So I will give you the chance to pay for your crimes in silver, and keep what blood you still have."

The accountant sniggered.

"My accountant has judged the cost of your damages to my beasts at 1000 shekels."

The peasants forgot their caution, and snapped their pale faces up to stare at the lord in shock.

"If you cannot pay this sum," the Watnišha continued with the faintest hint of a smirk, "then I will deign to accept ownership of your farms, and forgive the remainder. If you think me unjust, it is your right to appeal my judgement, on the next progress of the King."

The lord's advisors erupted in laughter.

The Lords of Adaniya were traditionally the most powerful claimants to the throne of Kizzuwatna, but their ability to enforce those claims in the aftermath of the bronze age collapse was limited. The Watnišhas, or 'Country-Lords' were the lower-level rulers under the Haššu (King) of Kizzuwatna. Watnišhas were distinguished by controlling a territory with multiple settlements as opposed to holding purview over only a single city. In this era, they stretched their legs and resisted the claims of the Lord of Adaniya to suzerainty over them. Some used their own ancestral links to the Hittite royal household to forward competing claims to the throne.

Wrapped in tattered clothes, dry lips, multiple half-empty flasks of water, slippers that are more of a suggestion against sand than actual footwear, and a helmet bearing a sigil that no one else is left to wear.

Behind the figure follows a trail of prints in the sand: evidence of footsteps, of a walking stick making the job a little easier, but also of the occasional collapse onto the ground, followed by not having the choice but to continue dragging oneself further. As time and distance goes on, the winds bury the tracks until any signs of the figure's passing-by are gone.

The figure looked up and saw that the horizon was... slightly different. Not intent on building up too much hope, they simply continued crawling further.

A second look sometime later rewarded that slight sliver of hope that the figure couldn't deny.

Trees. Undeniably, those were trees.

Aching bones conflicted with enthusiasm as the figure scampered towards the promising sight. It wasn't just trees, but shrubbery, fields and houses. The Euphrates valley.

A humble farmer works the soil in a field of sesame. He sees something out of the corner of his eye. It looks at first like an escaped sheep or a wild animal of some kind. But…

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhgggh”, the figure announces once they’re close enough to another human soul.

“Did you just stroll in here from the wild open desert?!?”, the farmer shouted.

The figure needs some time to recover from the running and the shouting, but as quickly as possible speaks: “I am the only one left of my group. Please, I need food and water.”

The farmer pauses. Faced with a survivor of a terrible situation, in desperate need of sustenance and care, these are his words: “What Tarra do you belong to? Are you one of the Trowelers?”

“No…”, the figure said, “I’m one of the Fishers”

“Oh, well…”, the farmer spoke awkwardly, “There’s one of you in the village that way.”

The figure sighed. What was a bit more distance after all that anyway? As they dragged themself further, they realised even not-fully grown sesame was edible enough… But, one look over their shoulder confirmed their fear that the farmer would be watching intently to make sure that they couldn’t have a bite.

One village over, the figure asked where the Fisher was, and they were pointed to a house on the edge of town.

“Yeah, the Fishers are in a very poor position in this part of the valley.”, the villager said as they peeled some more pistachios for the survivor to eat, “It’s mostly North-Stars and Trowelers over here. I even asked the Tarrakar if I could move somewhere else, but they said that our low presence here is all the better of a reason for me to stay. I guess she was right on that one.”

The survivor took another sip of the sheep’s milk to flush down the nuts.

The other Fisher slapped themself on the forehead. “Gods, I’m sorry that I’m talking about myself when you just underwent something crazy, I…”

“No, no…”, the survivor interrupted, “It’s nice actually. I like hearing some normal human conversation after all that. It’s better company than blowflies and spiders.”

The villager watched the survivor take another sip of milk.

“There’s a community of Fishers two villages over that I visit if I need repairs for my tools. They’re a big enough group to take care of you, I think.”

“That sounds great, but first I need a good night’s sleep.”

The shepherds roam the hills, overlooking the boats which overlook the ocean containing the fish. The city folk and villagers overlook the hearth, overlooking the flame, borne directly from the sun and stars. The Barons overlook their harem, overlooking worldly pleasure, overlooking the core needs of a person.

These connections enweb our world, tangling it into that which cannot be untangled. Seeing one is seeing many, and seeing many is seeing one. When one is hurt - so are many. When many are hurt - so is one.

When we worship, we become closer. When the gods hear our prayers, we enweb and breathe, shrink, decay, grow, expound. When the fish in the sea look to the cresting waves overhead, they do not see an individual. They see a ship, the sky, the sun and the clouds. They see the many, contributing to the individual, reaping what should be sown from the natural world.

The bird in the sky does not overlook an individual, it overlooks a village, a city, a farm, a community. One cannot blame the bird for its lack of understanding, dropping feces upon the heads of the innocent. But its clear view, instead, should be respected, emulated, appreciated.

And so, we live, and we breathe. One lives, and one breathes. The connections are innumerable, yet still one.

Claim: Enekenaumi

Type: Sedentary

Tech Era: Bronze Age

Key Tech: Bronze Working, Agriculture, Feline Domestication

Map: Here

Overlooking the sea, the great congregation of Round Houses forms the city of Inkoni. Circular houses, each with circular wells, laid out in a circular fashion creates a place that channels the divine powers laid out by the sea, sky, and sun. Lying at the center of the circle is a fortress, in which a local baron resides. The local farmers pay tax to him, and in exchange he fights raiders, settles crimes, feeds the hungry, and helps the helpless. The city relies on its shepherds and animal handlers which supplement a steady supply of Teff grown in the fields.

The cat is a holy symbol. Domesticated long before any oral history, many felines play important societal, spiritual, and cultural roles. Those who are wealthy enough are often buried with their cats, either after the feline dies or with its exhumed remains. They protect granaries from rodents and insects, provide companion to the toilsome farmer, and many roam the streets of settlements throughout the isle.

Each local baron is responsible for importing copper to create bronze. Though many farmers and tradesmen make do with stone tools, the demand for bronze only grows with time. Further, they field armies to vie politically with other nearby cities. Each settlement and its immediate surroundings generally comprise a political entity, known as an Aras. Each baron is generally accompanied by a harem of women, living in a solidified fortress at a strategic location amongst their Aras.

And so Irid looks over the sea. Its splendid azure fades to a distant yellow, to a burning orange, to a deep, yearning red. Then, back to a midnight blue. Few fishing ships still trawl the waters, each lit with a torch or candle, creating a galaxy amongst the deepening black of the ocean. Tarash, the feline protector of his realm, curls into his lap as he pets her carefully, plotting. Planning. Seeing.

He falls asleep to the gentle purrs of the Calico, and a new day rises.

This marks the beginning of week 4. Please post all expansions before Midnight, July 14, 2023.

Have fun everyone!

I suddenly lost the motivation to keep playing for some reason.

That is why I left the discord server as well.

Hope you understand.

EDIT: Also, this Reddit account will be deleted as well. I am glad that I played with you guys for the past few seasons.

1070 AL

The Valeraty consider themselves to be superior to the barbarians around them, and their hatred over them influenced early isolationist policy. However, thanks to the pragmatist pleas of the Senate, the Valeraty has decided to reluctantly open up to the outside world.

They will not start to send ships around the Mediterranean, however. They opted instead to visit the other 2 nearest nations in Ry, Africa, namely Rakyra, Rachtirith, and Lora, Luorai, to see what they are doing.

1060 AL

Vy, Valera

Vana Tsava, aged 110, dies due to old age in her deathbed in the Shining Palace, surrounded by some members of the Tsava caste. It is expected due to how old she was.

Word soon came out of Vana's peaceful death, and all of Valera is in a state of shock, but they eventually come to terms with the fact that all good things must come to an end.

Vana ruled for 94 years, guiding Valera in its first few decades. One of her most notable accomplishments are the naming of all provinces in Valera and the expansion of said nation, giving the Confederation some much-needed access to the sea.

Later that year, the elections to determine who is the next Ruler of Rulers of Valera commenced.

After a month of tallying all of the votes across all of the current provinces of Valera, Sana Tsava (she/her), aged 20, emerged victorious with the majority vote, making her the second Ruler of Rulers of Valera.

A man looked up and suddenly darted into motion. He put down his tools and jumped up a ledge, then hurried across freshly-dug dirt. Coming to a halt a small distance further, he noticed the muck on his hands and wiped them somewhat clean on his cargo pants.

When a motor vehicle rolled up in front of him and its passenger stepped out, the man readily reached out to shake hands.

“Mr. Babber! It’s a pleasure to see you!”

“Likewise. Say, how do you endure the god-afwul heat in this place? There’s enough sweat on my back to sail a ship!”

The first man did his best to laugh along. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I guess just… drink enough water and stay in the shade as much as possible.”

“Of course, of course. Now, what’s the progress on the dig? It’s uh… mostly just a hole so far?”

“Oh, uhm. Not entirely, Mr. Babber. We’ve been uncovering something quite remarkable, actually.”, the archeologist said, “But I understand it mostly looks like sand from here. Really, we should take a closer look to get a sense of it.”

“No need to be so diplomatic, my friend. You’re an erudite man and this task fits you well.”

The archeologist gave a smile which he tried his best to make neither too subtle nor too much. He then gestured towards the site and allowed Mr. Babber to go first. The archeologist explained that the hill in front of them was a large basalt plateau, the result of volcanic activity. Their team had stumbled upon something curious when they took various samples of the bedrock: one part of the hill was not natural, but made of imported stone. They dug, and found an old structure buried beneath.

“Those two stone slabs are orthostates that supported a much taller wall, though much of it has collapsed into debris. If you take a closer look, you will see something quite special: a carved relief of a Hurrian king, probably one that ruled this area.”

Mr. Babber squinted. “The one with the long head?”

“... That’s probably a crown, we think.”

“Of course.”

“... And besides him are palm trees, that’s what those curved lines are. You can see that he is holding a scepter of some sort and there’s an ox right beside him.”

“And quite a magnificent beard he has.”

“Yes, as is typical for a king of his time. It was a symbol of power and prestige.”

“A great king’s palace, right in front of us. The people back then knew real honor, didn’t they? Unlike the streets of Empire city, I’d say.”

“Oh, Indeed. This palace would have been a center of great power, undoubtedly.”

“Great work my friend”, he replied as he took a flask of water, “Now, that stone would look fantastic in my guest room. Or perhaps on the mezzanine? Yes, that would be a good place, right in view of the botanical garden.”

If Wasashaza could turn back time, he would do it. Through his mind raced all the moments things could have turned out differently: he should have trusted the Amorite mercenary archers to win the battle up north, he shouldn’t have conceded control over the markets to the priests, he should have stopped the slave revolts from the beggining and he should have promised the artisans lower taxes to keep their loyalty. But most of all: he should have never allowed that damn con man of a supposed King to stay in power in Tirruk.

If Elutush of Shatamdatur, King of Tirruk was offered the gift of immortality, he wouldn’t accept it. Gilgamesh was a fool and a megalomaniac, in his opinion. To live forever was to sacrifice everything that matters today. It was by rejecting any ambitions of a forever-legacy that he had done all the things he was proud of. If he had aspired to build grand temples, who would have built the public latrines that kept the city clean? If he had aspired to conquer the known world, he would have had to do it on the back of involuntary labor that he personally knew the indignity of. If he had sat on the throne, he wouldn’t be standing here, in front of Wasashaza with a peasant army behind him.

“I have a straight-forward theological argument to make, oh Divine King of Ennakum.”, Elutush spoke with the courtesy that the situation demanded, “It goes like this: The Divine King is the steward of the land on behalf of the gods, correct?”

Wasashaza agreed.

“And this task is not merely granted through title or promise, but through your corporeal being and the soul that guides it?”

Wasashaza tensed up, being reminded of having a corporeal body in this kind of situation, but agreed with the argument thusfar.

“Then are you not being careless by residing here? In a city that has seen three hostile armies come and go through its gates in recent times? I have been told stories about that awful Assyrian general who held a spear against your back and sat on your own throne. If the health of a Divine King is in peril, that bodes badly for the health of his kingdom, no?”

Wasashaza sighed deeply, but had no choice but to agree.

“Wonderfully for us, your city has stonemasons with a lot of experise, and so it shouldn’t be too much trouble to build a royal residence by the hills, fortified and with only one entrance for easy defence. It will be the shell that protects your sanctity. We will get you servants and luxuries, but none may enter or leave. The palace shall be a more perfect replica of your kingdom. I, and all who come after me as Lesser King of Tirruk, will act as messenger between your home and the imperfect outside world.”

And so the Divine King of Ennakum and its surroundings never saw Ennakum or its surroundings ever again. Wasashaza could do nothing about his power narrowing to the confines of a palace, only interacting with his former glory through occasional imported luxuries or through an untrustworthy peasant.

This marks the beginning of week 3. Please post all expansions before Midnight, June 30, 2023.

Have fun everyone!

The Bronze Age Collapse had devastating consequences on the lives of the Valanian people. They had lost their livelihoods, their security and been scattered to the winds. However, as the years passed, and the Valanians rebuilt, they began to flourish once again. Perhaps no longer living the great and grand cities, but they were alive and they were many, which sometimes is enough.

As they are a sedentary people, they are a little more able to expand as they are not constrained by any major city or nation's laws, and as such, as their population has steadily grown in the past decade or so, they have begun to expand inland from the coast. There was no particular order or structure to the expansion, rather they simply followed the river and sought new fertile lands. And as they dispersed along the river, they saw more old ruins of cities and old relic and artifacts, yet the purpose and origin of these places still elude them.

Expansion in sky/lighter blue, original lands in darker ocean blue

Dark red is the area that I am expanding to.

1035 AL

The Valeraty is not confined to the lands where the Confederation currently stands. As long as the Nile continues to drain into the Mediterranean, its lands will continue to be tread by The First Children.

And so, The First Children tread and tread atop the corpses of its oppressors. Not all of them opted to join the newfound Confederation however, but the ones that did as of 1035 AL prove to be valuable to the fledging nation due to their proximity to the Mediterranean.

It is a peaceful process, with years of discussions and negotiations finally culminating with the fishers to the north uniting with the farmers, miners, and herders to the south in 1035 AL. Preparations are made to build another port city closer to the Mediterranean.

At the same year, as decreed by Vana Tsava, now 85, the names of the new provinces are as follows:

• Sevy - The coastal province. Taken from the Valeraty word for sea.
• Tevy - The province north of the capital centered around marshes. Taken from the Valeraty word for tree.

At the same year, sailors are welcomed into the loving arms of the Rava caste as well, bringing their valuable skills into said caste.

Kizzuwatna and Environs After the Bronze Age Collapse

The ancestors of the Hittites first came to Anatolia in truly ancient days, when even Egypt was still young. For centuries, most of them made their living as humble shepherds and merchants, plying the hills and steppes of the Anatolian interior under the rule of a patchwork of pre-Indo-European kingdoms. Eventually though, they founded a string of modest chiefdoms of their own along the northern flank of the Taurus mountains. One of these, centered at Neša, would form the core of one of the greatest empires of the ancient world.

It was from Neša that Anitta, Grandfather of the Nesites (as the Hittites called themselves), conquered much of central Anatolia and became the first Lord of the Land of Hatti. His armies threw down the old kingdom of Hattuša and sowed the fields with weeds and curse tablets. He then marched on Purušhanda to the south, and the king of that land surrendered without a fight. The iron throne and scepter of Purušhanda became heirlooms of Anitta's house and crucial symbols of legitimacy.

Over the coming centuries, the kingdom founded by Anitta continued to evolve. Hattuša was re-founded in defiance of the old curses, and served as the capital of the Hittite Empire for most of its history. Hittite kings campaigned from the Aegean to the Caucasus, sacked Babylon, and made war with Egypt and Mitanni for control of Syria. Members of the royal family were invested with sub-kingdoms like Hapalla, Tarhuntašša, and Kizzuwatna to administer for the good of the empire.

In the end, all of these efforts came to nothing. The old curses, long ignored, took their due. A disastrous famine and outbreaks of disease laid half of the Anatolian population in early graves, and the cities of the Old North all fell to ruin. The last king of Hattuša tried to flee south, but vanished in the mountains. The iron throne and scepter, all the records from elder days, and much else was lost.

On the southern fringe of the Hittite world, some things survived. The former sub-kingdoms of Kizzuwatna, Malitiya, Kummuh, and Kargamiš persisted into the iron age, though the rulership of Kizzuwatna was often in dispute. These remnants of the old jostled with new forces. Greeks from the west settled in the lost realms of Hilakku and Alashiya, soon to become Kilikia and Kypros respectively, and came to rule the city of Tarsos. Aramaeans from the south filtered across the borders of the sub-Hittite kingdoms, founding Sam'al and commandeering the ancient cities of Arpad and Halab.

After the last of that generation who had witnessed the catastrophic unraveling of their world had passed, the common people continued with their daily lives more or less unchanged. The farmers around Gurgum still fought to keep elephants out of their crops, though they were now more likely to shout curses in Aramaean than in the Luwian of their forefathers. The fishermen of Tarsos still sang songs to their ships as they set sail, though the songs were now in Greek instead of Hurrian. Only the scribes of Old Nesite and the ruling class who spoke it who continued to feel a profound sense of loss - yet even they would find less and less time for remembering the glories of elder days as the challenges of a new age mounted.

Claim Type: Nomadic

Tech Era: Bronze Age

Key Inventions: Horse Domestication

Map

The Luorai Tribe has its origin in the Sudd marshes where all Nilotic peoples resided in the Bronze Age. Like other Nilotics, they were primarily cattle-herders, living a nomadic way of life in the marshy landscape.

The Luorai were one of the first recorded Nilotic peoples to leave the marshlands and migrate to the North and East. The reason for this migration has been lost to time, but myth and legend tells of a great battle between two gods, the Black God and the Red God, and between two peoples, the Black Tribe and the Red Tribe. The Luorai are said to descend from an attempted peace between those two tribes whereby Luoti, a young man of the Black Tribe married Raina, a young woman of the Red Tribe. Luoti and Raina are said to have been rejected by both of their families of origin, and formed their own tribe, which then migrated far to the East.

How much of Luoti and Raina's story is historical and how much is mythical is unclear. However, the cultural resonance of this story was felt by the Luorai people throughout their history. [My next few posts will detail this story]

1030 AL

Vy, Valera

Vana Tsava (she/her), 80 years of age, the first Ruler of Rulers of Valera has decreed in the Shining Palace in Vy, the executive and judicial center of Valera, that all current and future provinces of Valera shall be named.

Not long after, various names for the current provinces are submitted by the Rava. After a few weeks deliberating, Vana decreed the official names of the 3 current provinces of Valera.

• Nevy - The northernmost province of Valera centered around marshes and the city of Vy. Taken from the Valeraty word for marsh.
• Revy - The central province of Valera. Taken from the Valeraty word for river.
• Vevy - The easternmost province of Valera centered around oases and the iron mines of Valera. Taken from the Valeraty word for sand.

These decrees take effect 7 days (or 1 week) after they are announced by the Ruler of Rulers (Ro in Valera) themself.

In the ancient days, in the years before Time had existed, there was a great Wholeness yet emptiness in the world. It was amorphous yet solid, circular and rectangular, colorful and colorless. It was everything and nothing all at once. However, despite these contradictions, the entire system operated in balance. Then came the dawn of Time and the bursting forth of all life and time, beginning of all things, and the beginning of the end. Among the Valanians themselves, the question of "what caused the dawn of Time or the Bursting" is subject to significant debate. There are as many different explanations for it as there are grains of sand on the beach. However, some of the more prominent explanations are as follows:

Some believed that the Bursting was because of ancient imbalance within the Wholeness. They argued, that although something may appear to be in perfect balance, it will not remain as such forever. They pointed out how the ancient cities along the rivers clearly once were greater, but have since fallen to decline. They reasoned that if cities as grand as that could collapse, then surely the Wholeness too could collapse eventually.

Others still believe that the Wholeness wasn't an actual object that existed in space, rather a philosophical concept originating from the mind. They view the Wholeness as the idea that the Valanians likely have always been a breathing and walking people, but clearly have not always exhibited the same level of capabilities as their current age counterparts. They highlight that because before they began putting their histories and stories to writing, they likely communicated them orally. And then they further argue that even speaking must have come after something else, highlighting how babies are born without the ability to speak, and as such, when the Valanians were a newborn race, they too must have been unable to speak. So they posit that the Wholeness represents the idea and time before the Valanians came into the ability to speak and think, and that the Bursting represents the discrete instant when the Valanians as a whole gained the ability to think, and became aware of their existence in the world. This is one of the main camps of thinking among the Valanian people.

Some also believe that Taimael, the greatest divine within the Valanian pantheon, was the cause of the beginning. According to them, She existed within the Wholeness, and She was a being of exceptional power and benevolence. (According to those who subscribe to the philosophical concept of the Wholeness, Taimael existed on this Earth both in the sky and in the sea). However, She is still a living thing, and as such, has a living being's needs and limitations, chief among them Her loneliness. Because she existed as the sole living conscious being within the entirety of the Wholeness, She grew lonely and looked for anything to communicate with. To those who believe in the philosophical concept of the Wholeness, they believe that Taimael gave the Valanians the gift of thinking and free will, which they see as the Bursting. To those who believe in the physical object of the Wholeness, they think that in her search for companionship, her activity resulted in the Bursting, much like how a chicken hatches from an egg. After the bursting, all life and matter drifted through space as iridescent silky strands, through which She combined various strings and gave birth to the Earth, the stars, the sky and the Valanian people themselves.

Both traditions of the Wholeness (the physical and the philosophical one) agree that the Valanians were created by Taimael, who fashioned them from the sea, but those who subscribe to the physical tradition believe that (as previously mentioned) the Valanians were created with the gift of intelligence, while those who adhere in the philosophical tradition believe that the Valanians were first created by Taimael but without intelligence. And although She was happy at first to see moving creatures similar to her, she eventually grew disappointed when they did not exhibit or behave similar to Her in terms of thinking, and as such gave them intelligence.

Regardless, whichever version is true, the Valanian people agree that it was Taimael who gave them true life, and for a time the Valanian people spread out across the world, developed great cities and build great technologies. It was a golden age for the Valanian people, apparently. However, it was not to last.

This marks the beginning of week 2. Please post all expansions before Midnight, June 13, 2023.

Have fun everyone!

The Wapacha tribes remarkable expansion into the vast mountain range, initially stirred unease among the inhabitants. These local people were descendants of those who had fled the great cities during the collapse of the bronze age. While the Wapacha were known for their oppressive ways, they swiftly established marital alliances with the many tribes, thereby ensuring long-term stability through familial ties and bonds.

The primary sources of wealth for the Wapacha tribes were pearls, as well as the mining of copper and silver. Additionally, they possessed a keen interest in the frankincense trade from the distant southern lands, beyond the treacherous desert where nomads roamed, by establishing a trading hub in the Buraimi Oasis. The mythical realm of Hindustan in the east held great allure, as traders arrived in the Sohar fishing village brought forth precious commodities such as silk, sesame oil, and wheat. To facilitate their trade and determine favorable timings, the Wapacha engaged in diligent study of the cosmos, seeking to comprehend the monsoon weather patterns.

A select group of traders ventured even further to the North, navigating the clear waters of the Gulf to engage in commerce with the Valanians. These Valanian people resided between the Zagros Mountains and the Najdi desert, positioned precisely at the fertile floodplains where the two mighty rivers converged. By choosing this maritime route, the Wapacha traders skillfully evaded the perils posed by mainland nomadic tribes and the harsh climates that plagued the land-based highways.

Thus, during the era of 1,000 - 900 BCE, the Wapacha tribes forged ahead, expanding their dominion, forming alliances, and pursuing prosperity through trade and exploration.

Clattering of drums somewhere in the distance caught the attention of the guards on the wall of Tirruk. As the percussion drew closer, it also caught the attention of the residents of the city, some of whom gathered on the walls to see what was happening. The main gate of Tirruk was decorated by a Sphinx on either side of the entrance, standing proudly on a slab of granite from their hooves to their long braided beards to their flower-crowns, on top of which some children sat to get a better view.

The residents of Tirruk saw before them a small parade of people, marching towards the gates. In the middle of the group was a figure dressed in a red coat, decorated in gold. Besides him were two rows of soldiers, though their armor didn’t match and none had a complete set. They marched and drummed somewhat awkwardly, but confidently enough to make it believable.

As the parade strolled up to the gates, the central figure kept his head down. The crowds on the walls squinted their eyes to get a better look at the mysterious figure, discussing amonst themselves who he could be. Behind his long red cloak, Elutush hid a wide grin. Suddenly, at his sign, the ‘soldiers’ all stopped at once. He lifted his head and adressed the crowd with the deepest and most thundering voice he was capable of:

“In the name of the patron god of my dynasty, to the blesser of your city, I request entrance.”

It was silent afterwards, underscored by the ceasing of the drums just as he began speaking. It had swept the voices from the crowd too. Elutush was glad that dramatic trick worked.

After a few moments, a figure shoved their way to the front of the crowd and made eye contact with Elutush. They were garbed in an eagle-like outfit that began in a feathered headdress with a beak that opened up the face and went all the way down to their knees. Two short wings were attached to their back. The girl that had broken in yesterday jumped behind the person in front of her, the others tried their best to look normal. Without showing either approval or disapproval, the priest breathed in deeply and lept down from the wall, landing gracefully in the sand five meters below. The priest stood up and strolled slowly towards Elutush. If they were in pain from the jump, they were very good at not showing it.

Within striking distance of him, the priest halted and spoke: “What ‘patron god of your dynasty’ is that exactly?”

Elutush stopped breathing for a second. In front of him were eyes upon eyes staring down from above. But the eyes that stood out the most, were those of the Sphinxes. They glared right into his soul. It was their duty to guard the city against evil.

“uh… Sha… t…uhmm… d-d- at… ur.”

“Shatamdatur?”

“Yes.”

The eagle-garbed figure squinted. “Where does your dynasty originate?”, they asked, ”If you are far from home, what are you leaving behind? Is it anything that could catch up to you, and by extension, us?”

Elutush searched his mind for believable answers. “I come from… the island of Alashiya”. This was in fact the truth. “My family watched over the ports and the shipments of copper.” That was a lie by omission. “And I was brought here by… a divine revelation from an oracle, channeling the wisdom of the Sphinx.” Take a guess.

The priests took a moment to process that information. Then, they asked their final question:

“What did the oracle reveal?”

Elutush knew what to answer: “That a city in the east without a Divine King would need our grace and destiny if it is to survive.”

“More straightforward than I would expect from an oracle.” Those were words that made him sweat a little. “But,” the eagle priest luckily went on, “That forecast is flawless.” The priest leaned in towards Elutush ‘of Shatamdatur’ and whispered: “In fact, there is an army headed towards the city right now.” Those were words that made him sweat a lot more.

But the weight of that responsibility didn’t quite feel real until Elutush had already been given ceremonial robes and was in the middle of being anointed as King of Tirruk. The other beggars had also been redressed into something more knightly. Their scruffy appearance and lackluster armor had been explained by their long travels and a supposed ambush by bandits. The ritual was a heavily contracted version of the usual coronation ceremony. Elutush was bathed in the central temple, sat on a throne, and was pronounced ‘administrator of the lands in the name of the deity Tirruk’.

Directly after his reign began, the priests hurried a scribe up to him to request some of that guidance he had so promised. Elutush panicked and wondered whether he would just have to admit that it was all a big prank and that he was sorry it had gone on for longer than it should. But, luckily for him, he came up with a second very good idea. He gazed around his court, priests looking at him with desperation, the beggars looking at the table of food with even more desperation, and the peasants below them still confused who he was.

Elutush adressed the scribe and ordered it to write a declaration of loyalty to the King of the army that was about to visit, making sure to flatter them as much as possible. Then, when one of the eagle priests asked why he had joined that particular side of the conflict, Elutush revealed the second part of his plan: They would send the exact same letter to that army’s rivals.

And so, when an army marched in from the east, they left Tirruk alone because it was already on their side. When an army from the west strolled by, they complimented Tirruk for its allyship as well. Heck, when an army from the south got involved, Tirruk joined their cause as well. Ennakum on the other hand was sacked three times.

Seldom had the barbarian tainted Elysium with its ignorant presence. The Defenders of Arcadia remained vigilant in their watch. The Gates of Corinth stood, yet Megaris and the lands beyond were untamed. All that stood between chaos and civilization was but a thin strip of land.

Should Corinth fall, all of the Peloponnese would be open to conquest.

Aristeides of the Bacchiadae, Magister of Corinth, was ever wary of the dangers from the north. Migrating tribes occasionally swept into the region and colonized the lands. It was his belief that the Descendents of Daphnis should be protected from intermingling, lest the Arcana in their blood be diluted and their ancient wisdom lost.

At the Ekklesiasterion of Arcadia, the Magister of Corinth proposed a solution.

”Esteemed Colleagues,”

“As Mágos tasked with the governance of our great city-states, it is our duty to protect our people from the encroaching barbarity that threatens our lands and ideals.”

”The threat of external aggression has loomed large over Arcadia. Reports of marauding tribes and growing hostilities have reached the ears of the Magisterium. Therefore, we must act with a sense of urgency and responsibility within our hearts.”

“A united force is necessary to safeguard the League and preserve the values we hold dear. No longer must our force of arms be divided.”

”Drawing upon our logical principles, I proposed the creation of the Arcadian Army—a disciplined, well-trained force of dedicated warriors. They would embody the virtues of courage, honor, and wisdom, ensuring the safety and stability of our city-states. The intention is not to impose tyranny or domination, but rather to stand as a bulwark against chaos and barbarism”

”The recruitment and training of soldiers must happen under the oversight of a Strategos - A Scholarch of War... Such training must strike a careful balance between the cultivation of physical prowess and the nurturing of intellectual enlightenment. These soldiers, known as the "Defenders of Arcadia," will not be mere brutes, but learned warriors, valuing both the sword and the scroll. These soldiers will embody the very essence of our League— intellectual sophistication and martial prowess.”

Following the speech, the Magisterium agreed on the creation of a singular armed force. During times of conflict, each city would provide a predetermined amount of soldiers dependent on their population and economy. Said soldiers would have already been selected for war, and would already be trained in the ways of battle. Said cities would provide these persons and their families with additional rations to not only improve their strength, but to have them focus on training.

Leadership was based on merit and skill rather than lineage and social standing, which was seen as useless on the battlefield.

Several years after the formation of the Arcadian force, preparations for a campaign to the north were made. The region securing the pathway into the Peloponnese Peninsula was to be secured, preferably before the relatively unknown Euborean League could take it. Not only would it be strategically advantageous, but it would pave the way for domination in Thessaly. The conquest of the Kingdom of Athens in particular, which was seen as idiotically despotic, would pave the way for hegemony and wealth.

The population system for season 6 is much more simplified than the system used in previous seasons, and will be very lightly moderated. Using the population system is completely optional. It is more of a tool that players can use to estimate what the population of their claim might be, or a minigame that they can choose to play.

Here is a link to the new master population sheet. Make a copy of it in order to enter information about your claim. Returning players will notice that it has been reduced to only three sheets - one for province information, one for technology, and one that stores numbers for use in the sheet's calculations. You will only need to make changes to these first two sheets.

The Overview Sheet

Here is a guide to the columns from left to right:

1. Province name - you can enter anything here, but this field needs to be filled if you own the province and want to calculate population numbers for it.
2. Owned - just check this box if you own the province. For colonies established in provinces that you do not own, you can leave this unchecked. Colonies are represented as cities.
3. Terrain - this is a dropdown list. You should select the terrain type that corresponds to the province that you are adding to the sheet, which you can find from this map. The terrain type is the most basic piece of information that determines how many people a province can support.
4. Coast - pretty self explanatory, just check this box for any province that borders water on the map. Lakes, like Lake Van or the Dead Sea, count for this. Coastal provinces can support a higher population and also allow that province to provide sailors to your navy.
5. Improved - this checkbox represents local improvements or adaptations in a province that allow it to support more population. Improvements could be more traditional things like aqueducts or canals, but they could also be something like specialized agricultural or landscape management practices. You can only improve each province once, and should do so through rp.
6. Feature - this is another dropdown list, and you should select the feature type that corresponds to the province that you are adding to the sheet. Here is the feature map. There are currently three types of feature - forest, marsh, and swamp - that reduce the number of people that a province can support. If a province does not have a feature, you need to select 'None' from the dropdown list.
7. Cleared - checking this box negates the malus from forest, marsh, or swamp, allowing provinces with these features to support the full potential population for their terrain type. Clearing a province should be done through rp. Finding ways to live with the feature in question, instead of clearing it through logging/draining/etc., is also valid.
8. Rural - the non-urban population of a province, determined by the sum of everything before this, multiplied by a modifier provided by the tech sheet. Most of these people will be engaged in subsistence agriculture and other primary labor.
9. City name - the name of the primary city in any given province. You can put something here even if you have not developed a level 1 mechanical city.
10. Density - this is a number that reflects how urbanized a province is on a scale from 1 to 5. Provinces that are not urbanized at all should have this field blank. Level 1 cities are locally significant, but still small settlements, while level 5 cities are massive cities like Rome or Xi'an at their ancient height. Note that larger cities like these needed to be supported by vast subject territories like the previously mentioned examples. A city-state will not be able to reach these sizes. Players in Season 6 are allowed to start with up to a level 2 city, depending on realism and rp.
11. Urban - the urban population of a province, determined by the previously entered information and a multiplier supplied by the tech sheet. These people can be engaged in more specialized labor like craft production or administration. The urban population also provides a slightly higher percentage of soldiers and sailors than the rural population.
12. Soldiers - a very rough estimate of the number of soldiers any given province might be able to provide to your army. This will be somewhere between 2% and 5% of the total population, depending on specifics. The number of soldiers depends on the total population of a province and your claim's organization multiplier, provided by the tech sheet.
13. Sailors - similar to soldiers, but often damp. Only provinces with the 'coast' checkbox ticked will be able to provide sailors. For reference, a Greek trireme carried around 200 people give or take, including rowers and marines. Roman quinqueremes carried more than 400.

The Tech Sheet

Tech Era - select your claim's current tech era, such as Bronze age, Iron age, or Classical Age from the dropdown box. This will provide a baseline set of multipliers for your rural and urban populations and your organization figure.

Key Inventions - type out the key inventions that your claim has developed or diffused in this column. What you enter must exactly match the names of the key inventions as listed on the Modifiers sheet. Key inventions provide more bonuses to your population and soldiers/sailors, as well as helping to guide your rp.

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That's it! Your population sheet should now be all set up. In the leftmost part of the Overview sheet, you can see your total population numbers as well as add a link to your wiki or a map of your claim.

• It is mentioned before that the colors of the Confederation are black and gold. But why exactly?
• Well, simple. The color black represents fertility, for it is the color of the soil enriched by the Tsy river (their name for the river Nile). The color gold represents prosperity, for it is the color of So, the first Human that saved everyone, especially the First Children, by turning into the Sun, ensuring that their fruitful lives would continue.
• Keep in mind that anything that is colored black and/or gold can only be worn or used by the Tsava (the caste solely consisting of the Ruler of Rulers along with their family members and relatives), the Nava (the caste consisting of the province Rulers of the Confederation along with their families and relatives), the Sava (the caste consisting of the Savasa clergy along with their families and relatives), and the Rava (the caste consisting of scribes, soldiers, spies, diplomats, government servants, and government officials along with their families and relatives. It cannot be worn by the Wava (merchants, artisans, and builders along with their families and relatives), the Kava (farmers, fishers, and herders as well as poor and homeless people along with their families and relatives), the Dava (criminals), and the Gava (AKA barbarians).
• The Tsava is the highest caste in Valeraty society, followed by the Nava, the Sava, the Rava, the Wava, the Kava, the Dava, and the Gava.

A sickly glow of lamplight offered no comfort against the blizzard. Nehor strode down the passageway, breaking in and out of a jog as his body would allow. The stones around him were dark and menacingly cold. He had had to wade through snow up to his waist as he crossed the deserted courtyard to reach the chancery, and the drifts heaped up against the outside of the palace's walls must be twice that deep or more. Wails of a different kind cut through the low moaning of the storm as Nehor neared the room where a king would die. In better times it had been the palace's cookhouse - a miserable, stifling place filthy with soot and flour. Now, it was the only room in the palace complex that could be kept reasonably warm.

Nehor drew aside the heavy woolen blankets that hung across the doorway. Heat and putrid smells poured out to greet him. The king's right leg was black below the hip. An injury sustained during a stag hunt in the mountains had quickly deteriorated, and it was not long before the king's physicians knew that he was doomed. Two - southerners - had slipped out of Kummanni just before the storm hit, and Nehor wondered if they had not been the friends they seemed. He took solace in knowing that if it were true, they could not have reached safe harbor before the snows caught them. Kummanni was at the edge of the world now. There were many empty windows along the road south.

Fresh cries of agony shook Nehor from his thoughts, and he pushed his way through the other dignitaries crowding the room, coming to the king's bedside. The snow packed in his clothes had begun to melt in the warmth of the cookery, and he left a trail of drippings as he went. He found the stylus with clammy fingers, and tried to warm the frozen wax of the tablet by rubbing it between his hands.

"My lord, I have brought the tools. What is your will? Who will take the throne?"

"Throne... The throne is lost... lost forever..."

"No lord, the throne here, in Kizzuwatna-"

"Fool! Young Fool! I brought so much to ruin for a prize I could not keep!"

"Lord, please, the succession, we must-"

"I am slain...I go to the dark country beneath the earth...to the cold pastures where no sun rises. My father waits for me there..."

"The Lord of Adaniya is your niece's husband, perhaps-"

"Accursed am I! Profane! A bronze jar with a leaden lid shall be my prison! The serpent will encircle me and I shall never walk free again!"

Mursili stared at the ceiling above, eyes wild with fever and fear. He reached out to his side and groped into empty space.

"Darling, hold me! Do not let the cold earth devour me! ... Father! Mercy, Father!"

There were whimpers and groans after that, but no words. Then there was nothing, and the wind outside howled alone.

The Calamity!

What is the Calamity?

Ah, what will convey unto thee what the Calamity is!

Some day wherein mankind will be as thickly scattered moths, and the mountains will become as carded wool.

Then, as for him whose scales are heavy with good works, they will have a most pleasant life.

But as for those whos scales are light, his home is an abyss.

Ah, what will convey unto thee what it is!

Scorching fire.

This marks the beginning of week 1. Please post all expansions before Midnight, June 17, 2023.

Have fun everyone!

Elutush stood at the base of the gates of Tirruk. He had with him a mere three possessions: The clothes that had been given to him by his old masters, a spear he had looted from a battlefield, and a basket he had made himself.

He called out to a guard at the top of the gates: “Hey there! Can you open this gate for me?”

The guard stared at him for a brief moment, then lifted up his head and spoke: “No, we cannot.”

“Huh? Then what is a gate even good for?”

“It’s not for people like you.”

“Oh so it’s not just a rubbish gate, then? It’s personal!”

“Pffft. Go look for a Tarra that might accept you and only then come back. Scoundrel.”

“Now don’t bring that up when you don’t even have a Šarrēna!”

“What?! You are a scourge to the deity of Tirruk. You expect us to let you enter when you insult us like that?”

“I’m not insulting you, I’m just making an observation about your city.”

“You are nothing but a beggar and a villain. You are a swindler and you reek! Your mother was a gerbil and your father smelt of pomegranates!”

With that, Elutush gave up and turned his back to the gates. The guard’s scoffing grew further as Elutush walked down the main road away from the city. When the guard was no louder than the birdcalls of nearby sandgrouses, Elutush turned his eyes towards the walls again.

He pondered what it was that made people so protective of their home city. It probably was the famous ‘deity of Tirruk’ he had heard so much about. But that didn’t clarify much, because he still didn’t quite get what such a deity really was. It wasn’t anything that you could touch or see. But it clearly had an effect on the way people acted. One way that was obvious was in how, once people were close enough to the city, they avoided using the names of other deities or words that happened to contain those names within them. Nor did they dare speak badly about the priests or anyone claiming divine connection. Apparently Tirruk was a very jealous deity. Maybe insecure even. Elutush wondered whether Tirruk could read his mind and be offended by that.

Then again, he was born very far away from Tirruk and maybe that was why he didn’t feel particularly compelled to watch out for the local deity the way others did.

He turned his back, left the stone bricks of the main road and walked onto the dirt and dry grass of a barren field. He scanned the ground below him for leftover spikes of barley, but knew the chances he’d find any were low. The dirt below his feet became sand, but his basket was still empty. The other paupers in their small settlement were not surprised to see his disappointment, and shared some, let’s say ‘soup’, from a rabbit they caught three days ago.

The beggars had a conversation over ‘dinner’. Two of them spent the day looking for another rabbit, or even a mouse. A few others travelled out to the hills, where usually oak trees could provide some acorns at least, but they had heard from another group of beggars that an army had passed by. Apparently the army hadn’t just taken the fruit, but also the saplings and most of the branches. All they managed to bring back was some of the armor that dead soldiers had left behind.

Elutush had only seen bits and pieces of it all, but something big was going on in and around the settlements of this region. Soldiers hurrying back and forth between the walls and the nearest hills, the sounds of drums and clatter somewhere across the horizon, the sword manufacturers seeming busier than usual, and of course the field full of dead soldiers that appeared ever so often. Come to think of it, that probably was a big reason the guards were so jumpy about who showed up at their gates.

Most of the group had spent the day just outside of Ennakum, pleading with travellers along the road to share some sustenance. The merchants were even more meagre than usual, and on top of that the gates closed much sooner than expected. One of the merchants had given them a roll of red cloth, but that didn’t taste very good.

There was one person however, who had had a very interesting day. She described how she spent that day inside the walls of Tirruk after sneaking in at night. She described how the city was packed with all the peasants that would usually be in the fields and now-empty houses. She described how in the middle of the city, there was a big golden table. And on that table was more food than all of them had eaten combined in the last three months.

And what she said next really made Elutush think. The priest had dedicated most of their daily ceremony to desperate reassurance. They were making grand promises of imminent salvation, that soon everyone’s peril would cease and that the gods were only giving them good omens, just you wait! But, she said, one glance at the audience of the ceremony revealed that this wasn’t the first time the peasants had heard these promises, and that the credibility of the priests was on a thin edge. Curious about these priests’ private activities, she had snuck into the temple to listen in… She caught a few words about diplomacy, something about army movements, even allusions to joining the Old Empire again, but unfortunately they saw her hiding before she got any details. She was lucky they didn’t search her before they threw her out, or they would have found the jewelry she had stolen. But even that, again, wasn’t very edible.

Elutush thought long and hard.

Suddenly, he had an idea and proposed it to the others.

End of Part 1

"Immortal Spirits of Fate, you who weave destiny, you who are my greatest muse and have spun countless stories in my ears, do not sit in idle silence toward me now. Sing to me of the birth of the Moradaya who came here from those mountainous lands of yore. May my words be true and my tongue possess the skill to utter the tale you speak into me without fault."

—An invocation to the spirits. Similar words are commonly spoken by storytellers in pursuit of favor from those who dictate the webs of fate.

As the cold wind howls through the valleys between that fractured piece of the Alpide belt born of the Paleogene in times long passed and nestled between two seas split by the crushing power of the advancing Arabian plate, a band traveling south and east on the backs of short stocky horses orients themselves against the rising sun hidden behind jagged peaks on the horizon which cut the sky like the serration on teeth of ocean sharks these migrants will never encounter, escape from this desolate winter landscape the one thing on their minds. They are Anyana, Iranic peoples whose ancestors roamed the steppes past the great mountains to the north where their distant cousins still drive livestock across a great sea of grass so wide and expansive it is hard for them to imagine both the land there and here in these claustrophobic ravines and gullies wrought by tectonic chaos belong to the same world. They do.

The Anyana abandoned such a pastoralist way of life when they migrated south along the coast of the Black Sea, known to them as Banga Marea, the Great Sea, which was vaster than any their ancestors before them had ever beheld, and into the lowlands between the Greater and Lesser Caucasus where rivers flow west into that massive body of water and the land is lush and fertile for farming. But this land of plenty where it seems the divines had tried their hand at crafting a paradise was not to be the home of the Moradaya. The Anyana who settled in these lands, which were at that time home to a population of Colchic Proto-Kartvelians, enslaved and intermingled with these local peoples from the coast to as far east as those who later formed the Kingdom of Asmanakashra, but many more of their brethren found no place in the small space of these lowlands, cramped as they were after the arrival of a lurch of people pouring inward as if the levy of the Greater Caucasus which once separated two worlds alien to one another had burst, and instead chose to push onward into the mountains to the south, spreading in all directions and hunting for whatever small abundances might be found in their alpine surroundings.

Massifs rise from underfoot across the plateau of the Armenian Highlands where Anyan has become the dominant culture and language, but divisions have already formed in this people. Wars were fought. Battles raged. Subjugation. The harsh topography of these lands and divisions between those original tribes who made the journey south drive the Anyana apart and erode their united identity like rivers splitting from one source in a delta before rushing out to sea, quickened by the absorption of local people's ways of life in the disparate and nascent polities forming among their culture. Some of the tribes have become wary of one another, others hostile and others more simply apathetic toward the Anyana living elsewhere in the plateau where even a few miles distance divided by a range of peaks can feel a world away.

The tribe Moradaya trace their lineage to a number of deva, beings akin to spirits or gods, the stories of their genesis passed down through the generations by oral recital and never received by the youth in quite the same manner or meaning each telling. Those travelers journeying across the Lesser Caucasus have heard the myths of their tribe’s origins many times, so often each might recite the tales from memory, as they did in the company of one another as solace for their otherwise pitiful position in a false remembrance of their greater past. The content of those myths is for another time than this. Their tribe has yet to find a home where they might permanently achieve peaceability and rest. For years they have searched, living scattered about Anyan lands, but this will soon be no more.

The band of men and women and children with their horses and all the belongings they managed to pack for the journey set their ambitions on the valley where meets a moot of all the Moradaya. For too long they have gone without a chieftain holding any true vision, but with the death of Small Vanga, deva bless his spirit, comes an opportunity to appoint a new ruler, one who might lead them to the home of which they have long dreamt. The winter journey for them has been grueling, but their ways demand a new chieftain be elected as soon as all the clan chiefs are able to convene. In that band marching beneath the slopes and now in the belly of a ravine, scrawny trees twisting and fighting each other for the scant light of the sun that makes it down all the way, Skoda goes with his family and a small number of his most trusted men to represent his clan, the Donsudra, and their wishes at the moot.

All free men are welcome to participate in the moot and the election of a new chieftain, but the clan chiefs are shouldered with the extra responsibilities of negotiating the affair and preventing strife at the results of the tribe’s decision. Skoda’s young age once made other chiefs wary of his abilities to lead, but since then he proved himself to be a skilled warrior and therefore, in their eyes, a leader in his campaigns against the Urartians, the native inhabitants of this alpine plateau, and many favor him to become the new chieftain.

After weeks of travel through winding mountain passes, Skoda and their band reach the banks of Soinya Marea, Lake Sevan, the water frozen therein beginning to thaw as spring emerges. Thin trees with leaves stripped and dead bushes and lichen growing on rocky outcroppings dot the hilly landscape. Smoke rises in the distance. Others from Moradaya had already arrived and created a camp where they weathered the remains of the cold season waiting to elect the new chieftain. Skoda’s band sets up their own tents in the disorganized array of other temporary homes along a network of mud pounded into the ground by feet of people buzzing around the camp. Tired from their journey, he rests.

They are some of the last to arrive, and soon after making their place all the clan chiefs are present on those banks, and the moot is called. They meet at the debouch of a stream snaking down to the idle water along an escarpment and flowing inside, the shallow depths gurgling over a bed of rocks. Men of other kinds have trodden these lands for hundreds of thousands of years since the age of Acheulean stone, and now rills formed in the mud by surface water from the melting snow are trampled underfoot as they gather into a haphazard circle, a little empty space in the center.

Clans Donsudra, Ibera, Kudogre, Paraba, Velun and Festuda all convene here. Besides Skoda, other favorites for chieftain are Oruges, son of the late Small Vanga, and Ekpuda, the wise and elderly leader of the Paraba. The law speaker initiates the day, and the shaman says a prayer and performs a ritual, and the thing begins. Oruges boasts of his own grandeur, standing in the center of the crowd who send cheers and jeers alike his way.

"He should be chieftain!"

"Someone older like Ekpuda ought to be in charge!"

"His father led us to ruin, and he'll do the same!"

They argue for some time with no resolution.

"Quiet, children." Ekpuda waves a single hand in the air, and soon all are silent. "I am too old to lead. That job belongs to those whose lives are still more ahead than behind them."

A murmur grows in the crowd.

"But, I must admit, I doubt Oruges' abilities as a leader, even if I respected his father."

A roar. Everyone was up in arms and yelling.

"I don't see anyone better!"

"Vanga's spawn is too weak!"

"Who else will be chieftain?"

Skoda walks to the center, the walls of which now undulate in the mass of upset bodies. "I will lead us."

After much deliberation and arguing, Skoda is narrowly elected as Moradaya's new chieftain, the first ever from clan Donsudra. He sets his mind on the task of finding his people a land on which they may grow and prosper, and these thoughts occupy every still moment for over a year until an opportunity presents itself.

The Urartian kingdom of Ushnu to the south had fallen into a state of civil war over the rights of inheritance pertaining to their king, and Skoda decides to take the opportunity and strike.

The war effort on part of the Moradaya is successful, and they drive out the rulers of Ushnu, known to them as Ošneš, and take over the land with their armies. They expand east into the territory of tribes Urartian and Iranian alike and settle them as their own.

Ošneš rests west of the endorheic lake of brine, Unya Marea, or Lake Urmia as it might be known to us. Fed by rivers, the lake lets loose none of its water except in evaporation, a draconic beast hoarding its wealth for itself. A place of stagnancy, though much life calls the lands around home. There exist many plots of arable terrain here, and it seems to all Moradaya, Skoda first of all, a good place to settle. To the east of this great salt pond is a river valley sandwiched by mountains north and the stratovolcano which looms over all therein and will soon become a place of great spiritual power south. Here, the Moradaya found a city, that of Majadaragand, the City of the Middle Valley.

For some time, perhaps a century or so, the Moradaya have called these lands home. The Urartians of the old kingdom of Ushnu still do so too, though they are in the process of being subsumed into Anyan ways of life, an integration which lends to the growing distinction between Moradaya and other Anyana. The real history of their conquests merges with legend, birthing new myths among the tribe's members now growing fat off the land. This is how the Moradaya came into their home.

Name: Moradaya

Gov't Type: Sedentary

Techs: Iron Age, Horse domestication, Spoked Wheel

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