Prologue: New Moon
You're fatigued from the raw heat and still lightly wounded from battles with serpentfolk scouts. They seemed to be everywhere earlier, the threat of ambush constant, but for the past few days things have been eerily quiet.
Once you disembarked the river boats you have primarily traveled at night. The oppressive jungle heat is just too much of an obstacle to travel much during the day. Of course, traveling at night played right into the serpentfolk's hands and you've been harangued by them for most of your journey.
Unfortunately this morning you all found yourselves unable to sleep the midday heat away, haunted by the nightmares of an angry goddess, and so you were forced to finish the last leg of your journey during the day.
So now you arrive at the ziggurat just as the sun has set, exhausted. You have been traveling all day in the sun, after traveling all night without rest in-between. The last light of the sun dies and the sky is full of clouds. Even if it wasn't, it's a new moon tonight. The only light now is that which you brought with you.
The Last Temple of Acavna is a massive ziggurat made of some crystalline stone you've never encountered before and is carved with such perfect geometrical precision that it could only have been made by magic. You have seen imitation Azlanti architecture before, but the real thing leaves you in awe. Some of the stone buildings in the general area have survived well enough to be cleaned up and used, but this structure looks as pristine and magnificent as the day it was created, likely raised fully-formed from the earth.
A great stairway cut of the same stone leads all the way up the ziggurat, climbing each successive layer, until it reaches a massive open-air ritual chamber at the very zenith.
You climb this Stairway to the Moon, the namesake of the ancient temple, until you reach the ritual chamber at the top. A badly weathered statue of an ancient Azlanti, the least well preserved part of the ziggurat, greets you.
And suddenly you know what happens next.
This is exactly like your dream, it hits you all at once. These people, your new allies, came together because you all foresaw this exact moment in your dreams. You know what to do next, or more accurately your remember. Your body remembers.
The ritual is primal and dance-like. You do not merely imitate what you saw in your dream, the ritual seizes you. You are overtaken by the religious experience. A feeling of awe wells up inside you like nothing you can describe or contextualize. You will die never being able to put even a fraction of it to words.
This is the uncivilized, the almost bestial worship of the first humans. The archaic ancestor of religion, theater and dance. It is to faith what a wordless scream is to communication.
The ritual reaches a fevered pitch, a barbarian crescendo, and the sky cracks open. The clouds part and there is the full moon in all it's majesty. It is fuller and brighter than even seemed possible, and larger too. You have seen harvest moons before, but this is a beauty that borders on the supernatural.
The light of the moon illuminates the ruins and suddenly they appear as they once were, or perhaps as they will someday be. You can see a dazzling Azlanti metropolis made of light laid out before you. The more you see the more you realize this can't be a vision of how things once were. This is nothing less than prophecy. You see the potential of these old ruins, lit up in the night by the moon.
The same light touches the beaten-up statue, and burns away the stone, leaving flesh behind. Like magic the statue becomes a man.
The statue-man loses his footing, and falls to the floor.
That is not dead which can eternal lie, yet with strange aeons, even death may die.
Chapter 1: Strange Aeons
They're calling the event the Chaos Moon; it was the night when the moon grew and the tides changed. A new high tide devastated coastal cities, and an unpredictable current caused many ships to become lost at sea. The sky returned to normal the next night, but the global impact has been catastrophic. Even two months later ships are still being lost. And it seems the phases of the moon have been altered permanently.
Sargava was hit rather hard by the Chaos Moon, and since has been subject to no small amount of civil unrest. This actually worked to your advantage, as the mass displacement of so many people has freed up a large mobile population that's going to need a new place to settle down.
Of course, news of the event still hadn't reached your isolated neck of the jungle by that point. As far as you knew the eight of you were the only witnesses to the strange lunar display the night before. The 8th member of your group being, of course, the man whom the statue transformed into. He claims to be a genuine ancient Azlanti and at this point you're almost inclined to believe him.
You set up camp inside the temple. It takes two months of hard, back-breaking labor to prepare the land around the temple for construction. The ancient ziggurat is literally in the middle of the jungle, so the amount of vegetation that needs to be cleared alone is considerable. Even eight individuals as resourceful as yourselves have to really put your backs into it.
Finally, however, it is ready. You've cleared the area of plants, debris and minor vermin, cleaned up and given minor repairs to some of the intact buildings, and nicely leveled the earth. You have the makings of a city.
That's when the first pilgrims start to arrive. The Chaos Moon did more than devastate coastal areas; it sent strange dreams to those whose lives it uprooted, beckoning them to the Stairway to the Moon. They come with everything they own, which often isn't much, but they come looking to build new lives in this fledgling jungle kingdom. The journey kills pilgrims in the hundreds, but it still does not stop the waves of new arrivals.
Before long there are hundreds of pilgrims, possible over a thousand, more people than you can easily keep track of, and you realize the time has come to form some kind of government.
You gather in the open-air ritual chamber, on a moonlit night as feels appropriate, to discuss the matter of governing your new settlement. Already people have begun staking claims on the restored houses. You're going to need laws and a means of enforcing them, and authority figures to oversee everything. Your city will also need a name. There is much to discuss.
The rigours of the last few months have stripped any vestige of city life from Orsanos spare frame - leaving him lean and lithe. classically handsome with fair hair and blue eyes, he is impeccably polite and charming, with a ready smile. The features of ancient Azlant are evident in his facial structure, betraying his heritage - perhaps more so since arriving in this place.
As usual he carries no weapons, and has a battered old lute slung across his back. though the jungle has taken its toll upon his wardrobe and circumstances have forced him into utilitarian dress, the arrival of settlers has bought the skills of weaver and tailor to the jungle. he obviously pays close attention to his appearance and wears newly made pants and shirt, both dyed a dark red.
seeing he is the first to arrive he seats himself to the right of where he expects Wilhelm to sit, and begins idly plucking at his lute as he waits.
Wilhelm can't help but smile as he recalls the last few months. Even though the work was hard no-one could deny that what they were doing was the goddess own work. Thriving in this enviorment even with the lack of materials or maybe because of it Wilhelm feels better than he has working for any other cause before. When the first refugees began to arrive Wilhelm was shocked that so many people had begun having dreams, but it only reinfored his belief of the groups divine right to raise their empire.
Wilhelm walks into the conferance room while still fully armored, and carrying his falchion. He scans the room, and seeing Orsano nods before sitting down in another seat. Not really caring where he sits as long as there are still seats for everyone.
Kierk Tarsi emerged from his tent, just as he had every morning for the past two months. He emerged, fully rested, something he hadn't been since before his father's passing. He emerged from a slumber that had been filled with the peaceful light of the Chaos Moon. Stories had rolled in when the refugees begin to show up. Stories from that night, when a strange sight was seen in the sky. Tides and currents had been altered, people's homes and businesses had been destroyed. Fields had become lakes, and lakes had become fields over night it seemed. But here, at the base of the Stairway to the Moon, the Chaos Moon was peaceful, it was calm, and it was faithful. He had never slept so well as he did here, which made each day of hard labor utterly worth it. Like many of his companions, He admitted to never working so hard, or being so committed to a cause before. But he had never had this kind of motivation to work hard either.
Acavna. The goddess who had given her self up for Golarion, had been raised back to life and authority once more. She had given them a vision, a vision of a great city, a city that would show the world how great Acavna was, and they were to build it. Kierk would never have considered himself a religious man, until the dreams. His nights were haunted by dreams, and a longing to understand filled him and had brought him out into this jungle with these strangers to see what would become of these dreams. Acavna meant different things to each one of them, but for Kierk, she was truth, and she gave him purpose. And so, he worked, doing whatever he could to help build for her the city she had given them a glimpse of. What had been a makeshift campsite, was now cleared and leveled, some of the stone buildings had been restored, with more in the works. As Kierk glanced around, the progress was nearly unthinkable. The jungle infested ruins that they found just 2 months ago, compared to this cleared and hungry land, it was hard to imagine both existing in the same space in the matter of just a few months. As he walked toward the Stairway, he couldn't help but smile.
It was a smile that brightened his young face. Kierk was not a giant of a man, but he was taller than most, standing a few inches north of 6 feet, he was thin, not yet filling out as he most certainly would in a few years, but even thin, his strength and athleticism were obvious. He walked with a smooth grace that comes from an active life. He wore simple clothes, Boots and breeches, a linen shirt that had once been white, but now was faded a bit darker. Even in the city, even walking up the stairs to the open air chamber in the temple of Acavna, Kierk wore his breastplate. He had learned that there was always a danger in this Mwangi Jungle, just ready to emerge, so he never went anywhere without his armor, or his weapons. A well made bow hung over one shoulder, with the fletching of a dozen or more arrows seen over his other. Sprouting out the back of his neck was the crossbar of the hilt of his sword. At his waist hung two small axes, and at various points around his legs and torso were strapped daggers in sheathes.
Worship or work, sacred or mundane, Kierk's attire rarely changed. His life had taught him to always be ready and wary, and the jungle constantly reminded him of that. So when he emerged into the open-air chamber, he entered armed, as if he was heading to battle. This might have offended had it been another, but for everyone there, this seemed completely normal for the deeply tanned young sailor.
with a smile to answer Wilhelms nod, Orsano changes his playing to begin an old, sad song about lost love. raising his face to admire the moon, after a few moments he begins to speak, but seeing Kierk enter he stops and instead stands to greet the newcomer.
Acavna. The one constant in Alamander's life, for everything else had changed beyond recognition. So many of his brethren: friends, lovers, rivals alike, participated in Acavna's great ritual yet, apart from the odd badly weathered statue dotted around the temple, they're all gone. Everything he'd taken for granted had been turned upside down, new seas had risen where once great cities stood, even the common tongue was now called ancient and archaic Azlanti.
Despite a lingering sense of melancholy, Alamander wouldn't have missed Acavna's rebirth for anything. This is what he was borne for, and there was much to do! The once prime farmland around the temple had been fully taken by the wild and reclaiming it was going to involve months of good honest hard physical work. Just what he needed to take his mind off the past, and help him recover his strength.
Just as challenging was the spiritual education of his new found companions. Each of them had been called by the goddess, that much was sure but they had all been self taught and lacked the proper forms and prayers to give holy Acavna the worship and praise she was due.
So each morning Alamander would labour in the fields and each evening when the moon rose, he would lead a solemn procession to the top of the Ziggurat, chanting Acavna's mystery of creation. At the top of the ziggurat he struck an imposing figure - tall, heavily muscled, as much warrior as priest, with short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His ceremonial breastplate etched with passages from scripture glinted in the moonlight, as he lead the prayers, while his midnight blue cloak flapped in the gentle breeze. An observant person might notice how the light of the moon caused Alamander's simple staff topped with a wicked looking serrated spear blade, to softly glow. An observant person might also notice how Alamander was at once both happy and sad during the ceremony, happy to be there, and sad that his old friends where not.
After evening prayers, Alamander has a frugal supper with the workers below. Later once the stars are fully out, he climbs back up the ziggurat to the now torch lit ritual chamber. He acknowledges everyone there with a smile and a nod, but faintly reserved as usual he finds a seat by himself.
Urzan surveys the ritual chamber from the door frame and stalks inside. He nods to his new companions and settles into a seat. He is a typical Lergeni being a cross between a Chelaxian, with a hint of Tian. He has dusky, olive skin tones, dark brown hair, and light violet eyes. He is tall, lean, and broad-shouldered. He wears a hide shirt over what best can be described as a monk’s outfit and a full backpack. A scimitar is sheathed at his side, and alchemical flasks to handle the occasional swarm fill most of the pouches of his bandolier.
His companions are used to his stoic silence and are more relaxed that his two constant dinosaur companions have remained outside. But they remember the saurian rage seething below the surface of his calm demeanor.
The past three months have been quite a change for Urzan. While he has plenty of experience guiding jungle neophytes, he has never stayed with any of the them for so long. In addition, creating a community has been completely new. As he is used to following his dreams, he has followed his companions in the ways of civilization. But beyond the extent of the flattened and cleared earth into the jungle, he leads.
Andrezi enters the ritual chamber, observing the people inside; his new companions. All of them drawn to the call of Acavna, they somehow share the same destiny which brought them out in the depths of the jungle.
He is about of average height, somewhat skinny and lean, black braided hair and brown eyes, and a darker skin tone, a sign of his native heritage of the Mwangi plains. He wears light clothing, and a green cloak; an unexperienced observer would probably mistake him for a druid or a similar servant of nature. But his powers are drawn from the arcane, with a pinch of fey magic which enabled his deeper connection with nature, and brought to him his ape companion Kogor: a large, black haired ape, who was with him since childhood, protecting him from the dangers of the jungle.
Finding new strength after hearing the call of the goddess, he managed to track his new companions from across the expanse, and joined them in their, some would say, foolish task, of restoring a lost civilization. The memories of betrayal and his father's fate still lingering in his mind, but with a goal and purpose in mind. He aided his companions with his magical prowess, but also acting as a counselor and aid to others, always bringing their spirits up, even in the face of danger. Such was his nature.
The Chaos Moon brought great ordeals on the pilgrims who reached the encampment, and these people reminded him of his own kin, most of them living a step above slavery, on the brink of existence. This only fueled his burning desire to help those in need and bring a change to the world. And for the first time, with the aid of his newfound allies, he is certain that this can become a reality: a new world with equal opportunity for all.
Dexter walks into the chamber his usual impeccable self. The khaki trousers and pocketed shirt buttoned up to his neck, pith helmet and knee high boots, pocketed bandolier connected to the wide, pouched leather belt- it all looks like he has a batman secreted in his tent dedicated to keeping his clothes spotless and well mended. Not a single one of his slicked back dark hairs are out of place and not a single drop of sweat mars his clothes or glistens on his forehead. All due to magic, of course.
The wizard can be a surprisingly dapper and well mannered fellow when he's not in one of his dark moods. He has the breeding of an upper class Ustalav from the Palatinates, and while he is no nobleman he can make small talk and chat about anything under the sun with virtually anyone. For short periods, at least, and on topics that don't touch on his particular triggers.
While he freely discusses his dreams of the ancient Azlanti city he has been highly skeptical of Alamander's nightly rituals and he refuses to mention the ritual they'd all participated in those weeks ago. In fact, late at night, long after the nightly worship is done, he often falls into a dark mood and starts muttering about shadows in the night and darkness between the stars, jumpily starting at noises and fanatically lighting lanterns and torches to banish any shadow.
His contribution to the restoration has primarily been planning. He has an amazing breadth of knowledge that extends to engineering and city planning. Dexter is not in evidence raising buildings but his participation is evident in the plans drawn up to raise them.
He nods companionably at the other expedition originals. The charter members, one might say. He is in one of his better moods, it seems, smiles and greetings instead of scowls and muttering.
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A young man, though tall and well-built, enters in somewhat later than might have been expected. Time, however, is a highly relative concept in a land with no clocks and thick canopies that diffuse the sun. In the moonlight, it is perhaps even more uncertain. Thus, as long as he arrives before the sun breaks over the horizon, Azrin cannot truly be considered late, at least in his own mind.
He arrives wearing his traditional cotton and silk garments, a remnant of his Osirian heritage. He bears a spear and a dagger, not unlike many men of the jungle, but also bears an exotic nunchaku after the kind known to be used in the far East, glistening of silver. His feet are bare, and as he steps he leaves light prints of mud, drying dirt still caked to his feet. He offers no explanation, however.
"Greetings."
Orsano stands as Azrin enters, and greets him with a bow after the Osirian fashion. turning to face the others he says -
now that we have all arrived friends, might i suggest the good Alamander lead us in a prayer to bless this gathering?
Andrezi is silent for a moment, the entire party now gathered around the table. He looks at his companions with a certain feeling of trust, and hope.
"Greetings, friends. Things have become... interesting in the last few weeks. It seems that the recent turn of events has certainly influenced our fortunes, and I believe that the hard road we took through the dangers of the jungle have paid off even now."
He stops for a moment, clearing his thoughts.
"These pilgrims who came here, are proof that we are in the making of something great, a new beginning for most of us. Although I grieve for their losses, we must show these people that they have not made a mistake in seeking us out. Their suffering should be a motive for us to give our best in making a new haven for all of us, a place that Acavna will bless with her divine presence. We all posses abilities and talents which can aid our cause, so it would only be right if we decide today on our fate, and the path we will take. What say you?"
Wilhelm nods at the suggestion of a prayer.
"Opening this discussion with a prayer would do us all some good as each of has gained some peace since we have reached here."
After the prayer is over Wilhelm will get right down to business.
"Acavna has gathered us here for a reason. I think we can all agree that we should be the ones to solve the problem of rebuilding since we were the first to receive the dreams. We must untie the people who have come here under one banner so that all of our work can go to creating the vision of this city that we all saw that night. To that end, I suggest that we create a monarchy so that the people might have a king who gains the right to rule from Acavna herself."
Alamander nods at Orsano, stands up and humbly leads the assembled company in a prayer, "Glory be to Acavna, who died to save us all. Glory be to Acavna who rose again to lead us all. Grant us wisdom to build the promised land in your image."
Alamander, pauses for a moment before continuing, "Be at peace friends, while we consider what to do. Acavna's glory has rightly attracted a great many pilgrims, but they bring trouble with them. Already there's been several fights and cases of petty theft. We need law, we need order, we need a government, we need a leader. I know some have looked to me to lead, but I must demur. To serve Acavna and her people is all I've ever desired, besides I suspect different talents are needed. Talents I hope are in this room..."
Urvan is silently reverent in the prayer and is his usual untalkative self watching the others.
friend Wilhelm suggests monarchy - such would be the way of ancient Azlant... he and i both claim some relation to the royal family. among us Alamander alone has personal knowledge of the workings of the Azlanti empire. tell us Alamander, who do you think has the better claim?
Alamander raises one eyebrow and then replies neutrally, "It is true that monarchy was the way of ancient Azlant, whether that's also true of the modern Azlant is perhaps open for debate. Acavna requires a strong leader that much is certain, but she has been silent on the nature of the government. I believe it is for us to choose."
I'm not sure it would be wise to play my hand so early, besides what if they both have a valid claim? We could let Acavna decide but the hearts of men are not always so easily satisfied.
"I agree with Alamander. I for one am against a monarchy, as we should strive to make a new kind of society, one where no one person is greater than the whole. And I've had more than a few encounters with selfish, power-hungry leaders..."
Andrezi drifts off for a moment.
"Perhaps we should elect a temporary formal leader, someone who could take up the role until it's time for the collective to decide. A true leader should not be elected lightly and hastily. But this is just my say on the matter, whatever the majority decides, I will stand by it."
Urvan breaks his characteristic silence with two simple statements, "there can be only one chief. Determine by combat if we can not decide."
"A triumvirate would keep all of the power out of one man's hands, but isn't a king's council supposed to do the same? With a monarchy you have one clear line of succession and if that becomes too muddied you can ask Acavna for her choice in the king. In a triumvirate you would lose the purity of purose that a king offers as you would have three leaders who would be constantly in flux. You would have people campagining to become a member of the triumirate and the three who were already a member would have to campagin to keep their position. While I agree with Urzan that there should be only one chief maybe we should let the goddess decide who the chief should be?"
Orsano stands again and begans to pace back and forth.
t'would seem that descent is not enough in this case - and after all, as Alamander says - this is not ancient Azlant, we are free to decide our own path. i agree that we need one leader, for times of turmoil and strife require quick and decisive action and decisions.
i myself believe i possess qualities suitable for leadership...
with a smile and nod for Urzans simple yet compelling argument, Orsano continues -
though if its to be trial by combat, i suspect i'd be better placed bowing to another. i would however submit myself for the groups approval, and that of Acavna, of course.
"Acavna will make her will known. I'm of a mind to think she has already done so, in her own way. Friends this is a harsh land, and we need STRONG leadership if we are to survive. A strong leader needs no introduction..."
"Very well."
Wilhelm stands up.
"I have spoken to each of you of my dream for an empire. I want to see this entire land united under one cause so that this world might know peace. I have seen this vision and my being is devoted to seeing it realized. I claim a relation to the throne of the Azlanti and also as a member of the Knights Griffon I now before all of you make my bid for a throne, and the throne. If you will have me as your king I shall do my best to be a noble and just lord so that this entire land might prosper. Others might not listen to their fellows but you seven have seen the same visions I have and that means that each of you is just as important to this dream. Please join with me so that we might once again raise an empire like the world has never seen."
Wilhelm then sits back down having spoken his piece.
Dexter snorts. He doesn't bother to stand as he speaks. "What right does blood have here? Did the Azlanti kings of old preserve the kingdom? No. Azlant fell. Acavna saved this ungrateful world by sacrifice, giving everything she had- even the very memory of her existence!- to give us the opportunity to rebuild."
He gestures at Wilhelm. "You say you have a blood link to the ancient throne. What good is blood? We've all seen that yours spills as easily as the rest of ours. Do you know your history, your political philosophers? Civil engineering or directing an army in a war, not a battle? Treating with ambassadors or managing a treasury? You may rightly say that these are all things a competent king's council would deal with, but a king with a blood-right takes in lessons on managing a kingdom along with their mother's milk."
The dapper Ustalav gestures out at the fields where the first permanent structures are being raised. "You've had dreams, but have you lived those dreams? Have you walked the city, journeyed through this very temple, ridden a horse through tilled fields full of rice and farmers, secure in the knowledge that a great empire shields them from outsiders? I have done those things- that and more!" Dexter leans forward and switches to fluid, fluent Ancient Azlanti. "Do you even speak the tongue of your claimed ancestors?"
Returning to Common, Dexter continues. He nods at Andrezi. "As for none being higher than another, aren't we the ones who heard Her faintest call? Aren't we greater than those who came after? We were here for..." He gestures at Alamander. "They are here, but they were not here. And, to be frank, they are not strong enough, not smart enough or wise enough or noble enough or learned enough to trust with the leadership of this venture. They should be able to trust that their leaders are the best in the kingdom. If we need a chief farmer we might need to invite one of them onto this council."
He shakes his head and nods at Urzan, knocking his knuckles on the table to punctuate his agreement. "Yes. I agree there should be one chief. He should be strong. But he should also be wise. I would go so far as to say that it is more important that a king be wise- the throne can always appoint a champion to stand in combat, but no king can ask for volunteers to make decisions for him."
Winding down, Dexter shakes his head. "Neither blood nor strength should be the deciding factor. What we need to be successful is wisdom." He gestures at Orsano. "I have been impressed with Orsano's deft hand at diplomacy and his breadth of knowledge on diverse topics. He has my vote."
Kierk stays reverently quite after the prayer ends. As the conversation begins in earnest, he utters a hushed prayer on more than one occasion, "Give us wisdom, illuminate the path we should take." He listens to comments from men he had grown to respect, men who had sacrificed as he had, who followed the call each one of them had received.
As Dexter finishes his speech Kierk glances around and then clears his throat. Starting softly, he says, "Acavna has brought us here for a reason, and I believe that she has given us the tools needed to do what she has called us to. Why else would she give us a grand vision, if she didn't give us that which we need to make it happen?
As he takes a breath, his voice comes back stronger, and he stands so he can be heard clearer. "Dexter has just made a case that the most important attribute for the ruling of men is wisdom? But I must ask, can't wisdom be corrupted? A wise man with no faith, no purpose, no direction, can just as easily become a benevolent ruler as a cruel one, wise in either direction. I would propose that in this moment, there is no more important attribute than a deep faith in the one who made this all possible. The vision for this endeavor was given by Acavna, and it is for Acavna it is being undertaken. Who else then should determine its purpose and its ultimate goal than Acavna? Looking around at each of the men in the room, he proceeds carefully, knowing that his next statement might be difficult to hear. "I have no doubt that we all have some measure of faith in the great light of truth, but the truth I think we all know is, that some trust in her guidance more than others, and these are the kind of leaders I want to follow, and I pray these are the kind of men you want to follow as well."
With that he turns and moves quietly to his seat, his lips moving, whispering the same prayer they have been whispering throughout the proceedings.
Urvan hears all the fancy words and growls, "This is why combat is simpler. Name your champions, and fight for the chiefdom. Acavna will support the winner."
Dexter smiles at Urzan. "But then the intelligent gorillas would come in and then where would we be?"
He turns to Kiersk, his smile fading. The Ustalav has been openly resistant to their budding colony turning into a theocracy and has pointedly not attended Alamander's nightly prayers. "We all know why we all came here. But is that what we're here for? Installing Acavna as our ruler, overruling our higher faculties? Will we consult Her to see what kind of sewer system to install or where best to place our granaries?" He turns to look at each of the others in turn.
"Ancient Azlant was not ruled by its gods. It was driven by the will of exceptional men. It was an empire of arcane magic, a land of intellect. An empire still reknowned for the depth and breadth of its philosophy and art and any other of a dozen human endeavors. Ten thousand years later we still haven't forgotten- or matched!- Azlant's teachings. But the empires gods fell, forgotten and replaced by a new pantheon."
"Acavna brought us here to rebuild that lost country. She hasn't brought us here to become her priesthood, She brought us here to anoint us as the rulers of a resurrected kingdom. In time we will have to open our gates to those who believe in other gods as fervently as we believe in Acavna. What will we do then? Installing the holiest or most slavishly devoted to Acavna necessarily limits us to those who care to worship Her."
"My dreams have shown me a beautiful city. A large, successful, powerful city. The heart of a kingdom with embassies in Absalom and Egorian and Oppara and far-away Goka. That cannot happen if we make religious affiliation a test of leadership. I cannot accept that a being who died and rose again, who touched us all in our different parts of the world in the depths of our dreams, who prevented the Starfall, for the gods' sakes!, would want us to aim so low as a simple, single settlement devoted to one god alone."
Dexter turns back to Kiersk. "I applaud your enthusiasm and laud your dedication to the goddess who assembled us, but that's what she did- assemble the best possible group to build the best possible kingdom. And so I say that She trusts us to make our own decisions. She must, or what was the point of bringing us together? If she intended to rule she could have called anyone willing to listen to Her."
"You seem to forget that I am a man Dexter and not a goddess. My will is my own as are my choices. The fact that I have faith in Acavna is again a choice I have made and it seems to have led me down a good path so far. I have never said that if I became king that I wouldn't accept other gods being worshiped here. Acavna is the goddess who brought us all here, and without her we wouldn't even be here since a meteor would have killed all of our ancestors! Simply having a worshiper of Acavna as ruler is the least we can do for her, and it won't tell the other nations that they can't ally with us. I won't be some lack-wit who will just ask a goddess for her opinion on every choice of the kingdom."
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Azrin considers the words of others while standing near the edge of the pavilion, looking to the night sky, breathing deeply in the moist and cooling air. Finally, he speaks. "I concur that any ruler should steadfastly follow the faith of our patron goddess. Let this not simply be a state of laws and men, but of divine purpose from the goddess above. We cannot lead a people by our own cleverness, nor our own might, nor our own words. The blessing of the goddess Acavna must be upon our minds, our swords, and our tongues if we are to succeed, and likewise, we cannot afford a single man, whether by strength of arms, power of thought, or sweetness of speech, to lead these displaced masses into our glorious future. I believe we should be led by a council of three, and I hereby propose the following: the brilliant master Caromarc-Gammel should lead us with his intellect, the good Orsano with his impressive orations, and the powerful sir Athshyoth with his terrible sword. These three can surely not be matched by any single king or people's council. Can any among you truly suggest a better ruling body, or with good conscience claim for himself the seats of all three?"
Orsano frowns, and opens his mouth to speak. though normally a confident speaker, he seems unusually hesitant. he looks to Azrin and says -
Ambition ruled my life, before Acavna began to visit my dreams. Ambition has me standing before you, trying to persuade you i know whats best for us all.
clearly agitated, Orsano stands and begins to speak faster.
i speak honestly, for i have come to realize the task before us is far more important than any one mans desires. i have heard it said that those who seek power are least suited to wield it... but i believe i know a man who will ever put we ahead of he, a man we can trust to lead us to glory... but he will need our support.
He strides across the moonlit ritual chamber to stand before Wilhelm, then kneels and makes an obeisance in the Azlanti fashion.
In the shadow of Acavnas light i pledge you my loyalty, Wilhelm Athshyoth, first of your name.
standing, Orsano turns to face the rest of the companions and raises his voice to say -
i call upon you all now to join me in declaring Wilhelm our king!
Alamander blinks with relief, two persuasive people with seemingly legitimate claims to the throne was always going to be tricky...
But how to handle this? It seems likely Acavna would approve, and by now Alamander was itching to ask for her blessing but others in the room seem have strong opinion on how the leader should be chosen. Best to wait for a second before seeking Acavna's approval.
"If this is what Willheilm believes in, then I fully support him as a leader. After all, his loyalties and ambitions are in alignment with the goddess, and we have all seen that he is a just and good man, and a warrior of the light. People will follow him, this much I'm certain."
Dexter opens his mouth to say something then closes it, pausing for a moment before speaking again. He nods at Orsano and at Wilhelm. "I do not oppose you as king, Wilhelm." He looks at Azrin, then Alamander, then the others in turn. "What I do oppose is a religious test to determine who can or cannot lead this nation. We are here because of Acavna, true. Will we turn away future leaders because they believe in other gods? If we find a Druman we trust to do his best for our people, with 50 years of experience in commerce, will we say he isn't the best choice to be our treasurer? Will we refuse an experienced military commander because she worships the goddess of battles? Or no god, for that matter?"
He looks back at Wilhelm. "I will place my vote for you, Wilhelm, here and now with no further debate, if you pledge that religion will not be the test for future rulers. This kingdom needs the best rulers it can get, not only the best rulers who also happen to worship Acavna."
Wilhelm nods to Orsano. "Thank you for your support friend. I shall do my best to make sure that I live up to your expectations."
Wilhelm then looks at Dexter. "I will easily make that pledge Dexter for I meant nothing other than that from the beginning. No man or woman shall be turned away from a position simply because they don't worship Acavna."
Alamander interjects telling Dexter, "While its true many of the Kings of Azlant did worship holy Acavna, it was never required. In the time of my grandfater there was a sorcerer king Kelevand who worshiped Amaznen."
Once Dexter has said his piece, Alamander rises and says, "Well gentlemen it seems we have a Quorum!"
Alamander bows to Wilhelm and approaches with a small ancient looking amphora adorned with dense Azlanti script, saying "It is traditional to anoint a king elect with the wealth of the land and to beseech Acavna for a blessing."
Chanting sections from scripture, Alamander dabs his finger into the amphora and draws Acavna's symbol on Wilhelm's forehead in a mixture of olive oil and powdered silver. He turns to the assembled crowd arms held high and prays, "Oh Great Acavna! Your children have heeded your call, and stand ready to build a new world in your image. From amongst us rises a noble and valiant warrior, one who would unite us, one who would protect and nurture us, and lead us with honour and justice! Great Acavna we humbly seek your blessing for the Wilhelm! May you grant him wisdom to guide us through the darkness. May you lend his arm strength to defend us. May you grant him courage to do what must be done in the name of justice. Acavna we beseech you, send us a sign!"
Urzan frowns at and replies to Dexter, "Urzan kill all apes."
Dexter nods. "Then you have my support, Wilhelm."
Kierk bristles when Dexter responds, obvioulsy misunderstanding his point. To each of these men, Kierk would gladly argue, would gladly speak to with all measure of comfort. But in this setting, in a council, he couldn't help but feel a bit like a child watching watching adults. He knew this wasn't so, but in that moment of frustration, he chose to stay silent.
Wilhelm however, understood, and he came to Kierk's defense. When he finished, Kierk caught the eye of the knight and simply nodded his thanks.
He listened, to the rest of the assembly, and was surprised by Orsano's honesty. "There is more there than I thought... He admits silently to himself. When Andrezi pledged his alliegance Kierk stands with his hand over his chest. As Dexter pledges his support, a smile grows on the pirates face and he says, "You have my support, my strength, and my loyalty as well."
"Urzan follow chief."
Alamander casts an Augury spell, seeking affirmation of our choice.
Alamander works his small miracle. The clouds continue their ponderous journey across the heavens, and slowly shift the shadows they cast on the ground as they do. A shaft of moonlight slips through a gap in the clouds and illuminates the open-air ritual meeting hall where you all find yourselves.
Bits of dust kicked up by so many people being in such an ordinarily disused room sparkle like stars in the moonbeams. Wilhelm appears as though cloaked in an aura of twinkling moonlight.
Alamander ponders the sign, then nods and proclaimes, "Behold! Acavna seems to approve, for she bathed you in holy moonlight. Arise ser King."
Was that it Acavna? I'm surprised you don't have a stronger opinion. Ah well the knight seems honourable and the common folk like him. I believe we made a safe choice, maybe even a good choice, although only time will tell.
Alamander asks Wilhelm, "Sire, it grows late. May I suggest we retire for the evening and consider how the realm will be governed in the morning? "
After an exhausting debate you have reached agreement on the key point of the meeting, so you disperse for the night. Over the next few days you hammer out the small details of your new government. The coronation is scheduled for the next full moon, in about a month.
In the mean time you can start trying to organize your band of pilgrims into a society.
Andrezi spends the free time between meetings in helping the pilgrims settle, lifting their spirits with war stories and motivational speech. Kogor does some serious heavy lifting and transport of stuff around. He also does a few scouting runs of the area, trying to determine risks, and meditates on his future goals, as well as preparation for his position as a diplomat.
The Sargavans will ignore us for now, that much I'm sure. After all, we are a bunch of crazies in the middle of a jungle, trying to resurrect a dead empire and goddess. But if we're successful, they will most surely lay their meddling hands upon us. And I will be ready.
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Azrin spends his days as usual, working hard when he works, but napping frequently. He still wanders the nights, seemingly stricken with insomnia since the Chaos Moon. He says little to the others, mostly reporting in to Wilhelm when he feels it is required, hardly saying a word to the ever-arriving pilgrims. He does, however, begin to consider the prospect of their safety.
Who among them shall protect them from the dangers of the Mwangi? Weapons are scarce here, and strong men without a leader. We have been lucky thus far. We shall have to do better.
Waiting for a suitable moment, Alamander takes Wilhelm aside saying, "Ser King, there is something you should see. Its down that passage to the left, this temple has its fair share of secrets and things hidden from the uninitiated..."
Alamander takes you to a door that everyone had assumed was jammed shut. He touches it with his holy symbol and whispers 'Acavna' and the massive stone door silently slides open revealing darkness.
Alamander steps inside and utters a brief prayer and suddenly there is light and the unmistakable glint of gold. You see piles and piles of ancient coins and assorted odments. A candelabra here, a plate there, and towards the back, half concealed by brick a brack, there's a crown wrougt of solid gold. While not to modern tastes its unmistakably azlanti.
"The temple's treasury sire. I believe Acavna would like it put to good use."