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Military activity report - Intelligence Office of Seawatch, to New Haven Military District Strategic Command Confidential report - to the exclusive attention of the General Staff Our operatives in Seawatch report an unexpected movement of Carnite troops (est. strength of two jaeger companies), leaving the settlement southbound. The status of this information is certain, independently reported by two of our informers in the settlement and directly confirmed by our operative Minerva. As it stands, the purpose of the expedition is unknown. No communication was given to the liaison officers of the Oleonese 3rd Division nor, to our knowledge, to the headquarters of other Coalition Forces. On official army reports, the operation is reported as a "recognition mission", but the marching order is not coherent with the declared objectives. Our informers report that the contingent is mostly formed by Essian soldiers from elite units (Jaegers and Totenkopfe infantry), suggesting that military confrontation is expected. Moreover, the expedition is equipped with heavy carriages, not particularly suitable for the bad roads of El Oleonda islands. The expedition seems to need abundant supplies for a prolonged mission, to aim to recover heavy materials, or both. Rumors claim that a group of Namerean coral divers was seen in one of the port taverns, and has recently disappeared. As it stands, it is impossible to verify whether the two events are connected. The commanding officer of the expedition is Major Matthias von Stern, an experienced soldier decorated twice during the Battle for El Oleonda. The choice doesn't seem coherent with the limited purposes declared for the expedition. Considering the inconsistencies and the secretive nature of the mission, a light infantry contingent was ordered to track the Carnite expedition, if possible avoiding any contact. Our forces consist of a company of Eranos Chasseurs and two platoons of Astrapi Colonial Chasseurs, under the command of Regiment General Tristan Rimbaud. One of our assets, with direct access to the Carnite Governor's private correspondence, reported seeing a coded message of unknown content, together with a map of the Southern Coast and a note about a "cipher". The meaning of these reports is elusive, but it's clear that an object, identified as a cipher, is considered of utmost importance by the Carnite high command. Updates will follow in case of further developments or reports from our operatives on the field. With the best regards for Your Excellency, Morpheus -------------------------------------------------------------------- Overall view: The heavy carriage: A view of the muddy road with the carriage tracks: An obvious credit goes to @Khorne, who first invented and developed the Essian culture and units within the NPC nation of Carno.
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, May 624 Tristan inhaled deeply and flexed his wrist, loosening his muscles. His sword answered as an extension of his arm, and the blade of Guelphian steel whistled in the air. It would have been a difficult fight, that was clear. The Oleonese and the Lotii were similar in number, but the latter seemed better equipped for a melee fight: the chasseurs would have faced their long swords, spiked clubs, and partial armor with knives and sabers. As usual, however, the men could make the difference, and his chasseurs had proven their worth several times. All of a sudden, a slow clap arrived from the bleachers. A man in red civilian clothes had just appeared on the balcony, surrounded by soldiers in black uniforms. The Carnites, somehow, had found their track... and in the worst possible moment! "What a dramatic show, mein Herren. I would almost be tempted to let you finish... or to order you to do it. As you can see, there are quite a few muskets pointed towards your heads! By the way, I am Frederick von Undingen, Count of Wiesemburg, at your service." The man's voice didn't betray any emotion, but the half smile and the polite nod were absolutely unsettling. For some reason, he reminded Tristan of Slim Bill, a gang leader that during Charlatan's Bay civil war used to collect his enemies' ears... a complete psychopath, that Tristan had personally sent to Hades years before. He went on smiling, as if he hadn't just suggested watching them dying just for fun. "I have to make you my congratulations. We had fallen behind, and we had little hope of finding Professor Wagner, or any of your gracious groups. If it hadn't been for my good friend, Major von Stern, we would still be trudging at the border of these ruins, back North. At last, he convinced me to leave behind carriages and porters, and to precede you on the way to the shipwrecks... so here we are!" They were falling out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. Oleon and Carno were allies, but Tristan didn't think it would have mattered much. He didn't know which shipwrecks von Undingen was talking about, but he seemed to consider them a matter of life or death. By going there, von Undingen had cut them the road towards the sea, where an Oleonese ship was waiting! That wasn't even the worst part... in the distance, a drum had started to play, soon followed by a second and a third one. Konrad widened his eyes, but Tristan gestured for him to remain quiet. At least ten muskets were aimed in their direction, and any sudden movement could trigger a nervous soldier. At the moment, the best strategy was letting the eximious von Undingen talk, hoping to get alive out of that situation. Meanwhile, the man continued, impassive as before: "I'm sorry we meet in this situation, General Rimbaud. You provided great service to my nation, in Seawatch and Neuburg. Unfortunately, the treasures of the lost Lotii fleet are too important for my masters... you meddled in something too big and too dangerous, mein Freund! I don't think I can let you go, I fear." He also added something in Lotii, that Tristan couldn't understand, with the same voice of ice. The Lotii officer stared back with hatred, then spat on the ground. Everything seemed clear now. The Carnites hadn't abandoned the hope of finding the old Lotii fleet, even if their greed had cost way too many lives. The expedition Konrad was part of had finally succeeded, before being slaughtered by the natives. And the Chiffre, probably the most amazing part of their discoveries, was only a fortuitous finding in their insane gold hunt. "Monsieur von Undingen, I have absolutely no idea of what you are talking about." Convincing the man to let them go was impossible, but Tristan could gain some time. Pierre, on his left, was adjusting the grip on his knife. He was on a good angle to hit the man, if things had escalated more... The Carnite acted surprised, even embarrassed... impossible to say whether he was sincere or was only pretending. "Oh, monsieur le General, I'm sincerely sorry. I would have killed those Lotii dogs in any case, but this is an unfortunate accident. I fear I told you too much, and now you have to die. My fault, please forgive me. Let's close it here. Mayor von Stern, please, order your men to open fire!" The officer in black -von Stern, apparently- hesitated. There was a moment of silence, broken only by some native drums... way closer, this time! "Herr, Graf... might I remind you that Carno and Oleon are allies, and that we just fought side by side in Seawatch... the governor would never approve this move. And I can't approve this order, either!" "Ah, von Stern, you are a traitor and a coward! But you know, you can never trust an Essian for something important. Well, let’s make things easier for everyone: if anyone ignores an order again, I’ll have him hanged as soon as we return to Neuburg. Now, where were we? Oh, right! Kurt, would you please oblige? And make General Rimbaud the courtesy of being the first one.” “Yes, sir!” Without other comments, the man lowered his musket and took aim. Time seemed to slow down. For a second, everyone remained still, and only the sound of a drum broke the unreal silence. This time it was close, very close, but nobody seemed to notice. Then the world seemed to run faster and faster. Pierre sprang as a bow, throwing his knife in Kurt’s direction. He missed by a little, but the blade passed close enough to make him lose the aim. The musket fired, but the ball only hit the sand at a half a meter from Tristan’s feet. Then, before anyone could react, the battle cries began. “Idiot, you killed us all!” Yelled in Carnite the Lotii commander. He was probably true, but it was also their best chance to run! The Daca emerged from the bushes, right behind the Carnites. The musket shot had given up their position, and apparently also angered the natives a lot. Von Undingen seemed too busy to notice that is prey was escaping, and seemed in a quiet dire situation. Tristan, however, had the feeling that he would have seen that hideous man again, sooner or later… probably he was so evil that the Boatman would have repelled him! As the Carnite soldiers were fighting for heir lives, the Oleonese and the Lotii started running away under a rain of spears… trying to fight each other didn’t seem particularly important in that moment. With a map to unknown lands and a ship waiting for them along the Southern Coast, a few miles far, Tristan felt almost as when he first sailed to Astrapi, many years before… an unknown world was waiting for him to explore, and a new Era seemed ahead, both for him and for his nation! ———————— Overall view: With this last part, I conclude my storyline about El Oleonda, the Labyrinth and the “cipher”. I hope you enjoyed it, for sure I had fun with the buildings and the story! I will for sure reuse some of the characters: Tristan will remain my main one, and von Undingen will probably be his nemesis in a future story… Note: sorry, I had left the “wip” in the title even if everything was over!
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, May 624 The Carnite guy, Konrad, spent two days between life and death. He didn't seem to have eaten or drunk anything in several days, and was feverish from an infected wound. Tristan had little hope for recovery, but the young man surprised everyone: his fever decreased, and he soon regained consciousness. After a few more days, he could even walk with a little help. Despite the gratitude, Konrad remained extremely vague about the original purpose of his expedition. In return, he talked widely about the mysterious Chiffre: at first, the Carnites had mistaken it for a Lotii military cipher, but it was soon clear that the object was far more ancient and fascinating. Despite the appearance, that little gold cylinder was a sort of map of the New Haven Seas and beyond. The first and last disc seemed to represent the start and destination points; the ones in the middle indicated the relative distance and direction of the two points. Tristan was utterly impressed by the complexity of the mechanism, and even more by the level of knowledge owned by its mysterious builders. Whoever had lived on El Oleonda, whoever had built the Labyrinth, had also traveled across the whole archipelago before disappearing from history: Tristan recognized clear references to Cascadia (the little jaguar) and Ile Dyonisus (the crocodile), but completely deciphering the object would have taken weeks. It was clear, however, that the cipher exceeded the Madrician knowledge of New Haven Seas, with several symbols falling East or South of Noveau Oleandia, far out of the most recent maps! Before trying to sail towards the Rising Sun, the Flower, or the Idol's Mask, however, Tristan and his men still had a little priority: leaving those damned ruins. Alive, if possible. The last point, at the moment, didn't seem particularly easy: heading towards the Southern Coast, Tristan's unit had to cross a dangerous choke point between some cliffs and a large Daca village. One wrong move, and dozens of warriors would have soon come for their heads. The soldiers marched forward as quietly as they could, sometimes mumbling swift prayers to Artemis or Poseidon. None of the gods seemed particularly inclined to oblige, however, since a twice damned Lotii patrol suddenly appeared among the ruins. The Lotii seemed as surprised as the Oleonese soldiers. For a moment, everybody froze. Tristan could almost hear the thoughts of the enemy commander: he knew, or imagined that the blue barbarians were probably in the Labyrinth for his same reason; he had met them as they were trying to leave the ruins, meaning that they had found what they were looking for; he knew he had to stop them, at any cost. But he also knew how close the Daca village was, and how bad could be facing dozens of their warriors. Indeed, nobody had shot his musket... not yet. Tristan brought a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Then, he slowly put his pistol on the ground and unsheathed his sword. The Lotii commander nodded and did the same, soon imitated by the soldiers of both sides. It would have ended that way, then. No muskets, cannons, or ordered formations: only sword against sword, warrior against warrior, as in the legends about the heroes of the past. Seen in that way, it didn't seem a bad conclusion for his story, if things had gone wrong. Tristan looked around. If they had been in the Old World, that place could have been one of the ancient arenas, where prisoners were forced to fight for the amusement of the noblemen. Maybe it was something similar, or maybe not... but in a few steps, the Oleonese and the Lotii would have been at a sword distance, and the fight to the death would have begun. At this point, the ancient gladiators would have yelled "morituri te salutant" to the Emperor, right before trying to butcher one another. That day there wouldn't have been any salute... but if the ancient inhabitants were still watching from the other side, they would have surely seen one last, glorious show. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Note: As my story gets closer and closer to its conclusion, also the time to the deadline is starting to run short. I hope you'll enjoy this part and the next one (that hopefully will be out tomorrow), even if I had to overpack them with way too much story for such small builds. Just to clarify, "morituri te salutant" (meaning "those about to salute you) was the classic salute of gladiators to the organizer of their "games", even if it's more a historical fiction trope than a real thing. The idea of the silent fight that is going to happen here, instead, is a sort of reference to a similar scene of the movie Kingsmen: the Origins (where the problem is represented by WWI machine guns, and not by angry natives).
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Palace of the Imperial Envoy, Oryant, April 624 Commander Lei Feng walked through the door of the Red Dragon's Hall. He was expecting that convocation after the defeat in the Battle of Seawatch. Four years before, the Emperor was promised an easy victory against the barbarians from Carno. After two long campaigns, the deployment of hundreds of soldiers, and considerable expenses for the Imperial Treasury, the victory was as far as on the first day of the war. And now, with the Imperial Envoy on the island, someone was going to pay. Lei bowed deeply before the Envoy and sat on the low bench prepared for him. Then, following the ceremonial, he deposed his sword on his right and drank a sip of liquor from the bowl prepared for him. Now, according to the traditions, he was considered a guest, and couldn't be touched... even if, in the past, this sacred rule had been violated multiple times by particularly unscrupulous noblemen. The commander took a deep breath. The man in front of him represented the eyes, the ears, and the voice of the Emperor in Oryant, and he was there to decide who was responsible for the disastrous course of the campaign... one wrong word, and Lei's head would have been exposed on a spike before the sunset. "Welcome, Commander Feng. It's a pleasure for me to finally visit the famous island of Jinzi, the topic of so many discussions in the Imperial Court." The Envoy didn't even try to sound convinced. "However, I would like to know why I cannot ride freely, from East to West, on an island that rightfully belongs to His Majesty the Emperor. An island that our commanders promised to conquer in a few months... four years ago." His tone remained calm and unexpressive, but Lei Feng didn't miss the fierce gaze in the Envoy's eyes. "So, Commander Feng, can you help me understand why this military expedition keeps frustrating the Emperor's will? How could our best commanders be utterly defeated by the Northern barbarians?" Lei expected the question... all the commanders did. After the retreat to Oryant they had agreed on a half-true version of the story, in which most of the blame was put on the poor cohesion of Lotii, Monomonto, and mercenaries, on the lack of modern artillery, and the distance from the supply lines. Before he could begin, however, the Envoy added, almost casually: "Oh, it's fair that you know that the High Command considers you responsible for the defeat of Seawatch. General Wang claims that you refused to retreat your unit, out of personal pride, and that your foolish move compromised his ruse. His version was confirmed by most of the commanders. If this is true, then you are either an incompetent or a traitor. Wang suggested I should order the captain of my guards to behead you immediately. I feel generous, so you have two minutes... you can try to convince me, or use this time to jump on your sword and die with honor." For Lei, this was a punch straight into the stomach. He was used to the duplicities and treasons of the Imperial Court, but this was far too much. He had been chosen as a scapegoat by his own commander, and by the men he had fought with, shoulder to shoulder... and after what he had truly done during the Battle of Seawatch! For a fraction of a second, Commander Lei Feng considered his possibilities. Most of his men were still loyal to him, probably, but he had no way to reach them. There were five armed guards in the room and dozens more between him and the closest gate. He was in a trap with no way out... after what he had done! To hell with the etiquette! "This is an outrage!" -without almost realizing it, Lei had stood up, and was almost yelling. "I remained behind with my unit, and we fought almost to the last man. This is what saved a part of the army from destruction, despite our great General! We delayed the barbarians as long as we could, and gave our men the time to escape!" The guards rushed towards him, sword in hand, but he didn't care. At a nod of the Envoy, the guards froze, still as statues. "So, Commander Feng, you are telling me that General Wang's plan had failed, and that he is a liar. That the whole high command is lying, apart from you. Please, what went wrong in Seawatch?" The tone of the Envoy had again changed. Weirdly, he seemed... pleased? What was happening? Lei recovered a little of demeanor, then continued: "As you certainly know, your Excellency, General Wang had planned a fake retreat. He wanted the barbarians to rush forward, with only some light infantry to harass them... they would have arrived at our real battle line tired and unprepared, without their heavy artillery, and they would've been destroyed. General Wang, however, completely ignored the real state of our troops. Our forces were entrenched in a long, fortified line across the jungle, and some units didn't even receive the retreat order! When the barbarians attacked, we were still disassembling the batteries, and the soldiers were still funneling on the bad jungle roads. I rallied my man to cover the retreat, and we gained as much time as we could. At this point, reforming a battle line was completely impossible, so our forces retreated eastward, as well as they could… Then, we tried to disengage across the Dead City, where... where..." "Where your unit was almost completely exterminated." Concluded the envoy. "By savage natives, demons in the shape of men, I was told. Commander Feng, you probably saved some of our troops during the Battle of Seawatch, but you also ignored your general's order, and this is treason. You saved a part of the army, but you caused the annihilation of your whole unit.” Lei held his breath... the next sentence could either mean life or death for him. "However, today I will hold the executioner's sword. You have one last chance to redeem. As we are talking, three Carnite men are trying to cross the Dead City, heading for Seawatch. A column of barbarians is trying to reach them, but they must fail. You don't need to know more, but these men carry vital information. Bring them alive to Oryant, or kill them if you can't. But if you fail, I only wish you to die with honor." Without another word, Commander Lei Feng was dismissed. He had been betrayed and sent to death by his own comrades, by his own commander, but he had survived again… probably headed to a suicide mission, but alive! Better than he had hoped a few minutes before! Then he remembered what he had seen in the Dead City, back in that damned jungle, and the screams he could still hear every night. Suddenly, the merciful blade of a sword didn’t seem such a bad option… ------------------------------------------------------- Far later than expected, here you can find the fourth (and last) character headed towards the Labyrinth, where their stories will finally cross. The hall is freely inspired by the Phoenix Throne of the Korean Emperors, which has a painting of the Korean mountains in the background. I hope you enjoyed this part! Overall view: Without minifigures: No minifigures, canopy removed:
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Somewhere in the jungle, El Oleonda, May 624 Rain was falling on El Oleonda. The violent storms that had flooded the island's southwest had finally ended, and water had finally returned to the riverbeds, but cloudy skies and heavy showers were still taking the place of the endless summer of New Haven Seas. It was not like the cold rainfalls of Eranos woods, slowly soaking your clothes and freezing you to the bones: instead, the large, warm drops seemed to hit the ground violently, almost with anger. Everything in the defensive position was still, apart from the rain. No other movement could be seen, no other sound could be heard. The position seemed completely abandoned, but this could have easily been a trap: on El Oleonda, every little imprudence could be paid with the life of someone... yours, most likely. That day, however, there was no trap waiting for them. The trenches were filled with rainwater almost to the rim, and weeds had started to grow on the earthworks. One of the chasseurs moved closer and closer, while his companions prepared to cover him. At the end, with a silent prayer, the man stood up. Nothing happened. "All clear, General! There's no one here! This place seems abandoned!" Tristan advanced, followed by the rest of the unit. After the return from the rescue operation in Neuburg, Tristan's unit was taking part in the search operations into the jungle, between Seawatch and the Great Northern Bay. And, once again, they had stumbled across an abandoned Lotii position. Apart from occasional skirmishes with bands of Lotii stragglers, this was all they had found up to that moment: trenches, well-positioned batteries, warehouses... all completely deserted. The enemy had retreated after the Battle of Seawatch, but how far remained a mystery. Well, now they could move a little forward the line on the map, and mark a new site for the engineers recovering abandoned artillery pieces. Tristan didn't understand. From a position like that one, a company of soldiers could have repelled a regiment, allowing an ordered retreat of the rest of the army. They were distant enough from Seawatch, and the Coalition forces had not pursued the enemies that far. Still, the commanders had not managed to rally their soldiers. But why? Was everyone still in panic, after the defeat and the attacks from Du Pont's Tigers? Or was that place considered unsafe for some other reason? In any case, they wouldn't have found any answer in that place, this was clear. There was no point in remaining there, standing under the rain. Tristan ordered his men to set up the camp, but also to double the usual number of sentries, just to be safe. He would have also ordered not to light a fire, but with the tropical rain, unfortunately, this seemed completely superfluous... If the Lotii had abandoned that place in haste, it was better not to lower the guard. ----------------- Overall view: I don't know if or when the Lotii will be removed from El Oleonda in Era III, but I still want to "use" them for this storyline. As with the reconnaissance operations before the Battle of Seawatch, only isolated patrols or individuals will appear, and nothing about the real plans of the Lotii commanders will be defined.
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, May 624 The jungle was loud and suffocating as usual. The inextricable mass of bushes, the uniform sticking to the skin, the mosquitoes, the urticating herbs... for a Madrician recruit, that place represented a real nightmare. Tristan and his unit were not newcomers, but they would have gladly avoided that umpteenth vacation in that green hell. Once again, they were following a trail. This time, not the elusive trail of the Lotii troops, but the track of a mysterious column departed from Seawatch and headed South: the Carnites had left the settlement in forces, with at least a full company of jaegers and several heavy carriages. They had provided no notice or explanation to their allies, claiming they had started a reconnaissance, and refusing to elaborate more. Due to this weirdness, Tristan's unit was sent to investigate, possibly without being discovered: also for them, the official mission was scouting the Lotii positions. The slow chase went on, day after day. Tristan and his Eranos chasseurs had to follow the slow pace of the carriages: once again, a peculiar choice for a swift recognition mission. Soon, it became evident that the Carnite column was headed to the Labyrinth, an impressive complex of ruins covering several square kilometers of the jungle. In that place, Tristan had fought countless skirmishes against Lotii patrols, but he had only seen a fraction of it: the abandoned city must have once been at least as large as Breshaun or Mesabi Landing, decades or centuries before. This represented a peculiar choice at best, and utter insanity at worst: the Carnite unit, with its heavy carriages, would have spent weeks traversing the rough terrain of the Labyrinth, a maze of ruined buildings, canals, low walls, and piles of rocks. Choosing a different trail, or even bordering the ruins, would have taken half of the time! Whatever the objective of the Carnites could be, therefore, following them seemed a complete waste of time. After leaving some scouts to tail the column, Tristan decided to anticipate it in the ruined city, proceeding further south with his light infantry... and there he was, in the middle of the dead city. Among those ruins, the air seemed heavy, even compared to the humidity of the tropical jungle. Still, and unusually silent. Then, suddenly, the voices started: "Lauf, Konrad, lauf!" "Kra, kra, Konrad!" "Kra, lauf, lauf, kraaaah!" "Krahaha, lauf Konrad!" Tristan grabbed his pistol and took cover against the wall, then he realized. The parrots were imitating a human voice, laughing and squawking... a Carnite voice, inviting a certain Konrad to "lauf", to run. Not very encouraging. That dead city was already eerie enough, even without some colorful chicken repeating ghostly voices! Other birds, amused by the chorus, decided to join. Several birds of the New World, including the parrots of El Oleonda, seemed to have fun imitating sounds they had heard around, mixing and mangling them: songs of other birds, animal calls and, in some cases, even human voices. In the cacophony of calls, laughter-like sounds, and flutters, Tristan believed to recognize a couple of other words: "Trommeln", drums; and "Chiffre", which could mean number, code, or cipher. "Run, Konrad", "drums" and "cipher"... a strange combination for sure. Something weird had happened, probably not far from there. Something weird and probably terrible. At least two men, speaking the language of Carno, were among these ruins... not long time before, considering that the birds had not mingled the words before recognition. Something had given them a good reason to run... the natives, considering the reference to the drums? And what was the Chiffre, for Poseidon's sake? Why was it so important for them? A sudden rustle in the undergrowth stopped Tristan's thoughts and scared the parrots, that started flying in every direction. Right beyond a ruined arch, something was moving in the bushes. The soldiers raised their guns, preparing for the fight... ...until they saw a wild pig! Grunting, the animal disappeared again among the ruins, clearly annoyed by the visitors. ”Uff, just a pig!” Said one of the scouts. “These damned birds are getting on my nerves!” The parrots seemed to like the word: ”Kraaa, porc, porc! Krahaha, lauf Konrad!” ”Kraaaah, chiffre, chiffre!” ”Kraahahah, porc, chiffre, konrad!” Well, thought Tristan, the next visitors of the Labyrinth would have been even more confused than him… ————————— Overall view: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Note: I thought this build as a generic recognition in the jungle, showing better the ruined city of El Oleonda I introduced a long time ago. Due to its size, it cannot qualify as an entry for the challenge itself, but rather represents a sort of prelude for it. Stay tuned to discover what the mysterious "cipher" is!
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Neuburg, El Oleonda, March 624 The longboat was crawling forward in the muddy water. Almost no sound broke the unreal silence, apart from the regular paddle of the oars. One of the soldiers moved slightly, making his bench creak. Another man coughed. Nobody talked. What they had in front of their eyes was too much to accept, even for war-hardened veterans: you can face an enemy line, musket in hand. You can even brace for a cavalry charge, shoulder to shoulder with your comrades, as the world itself seems to crumble. But what can you do, strong or weak, brave or cowardly, when the End of the Days is upon you? When the gods abandon their mercy, and the works of men disappear below the waters? The boat proceeded along the streets of Neuburg, as far as possible from the original riverbed and its unbearable current. Everybody was on edge: the submerged buildings shielded them from the violence of the water, but also hid many threats: a submerged canopy, a tree in a backyard, or even just a floating barrel could represent a trap... and with the alligators lurking in the water, it could have easily become a deadly one! In the distance, the men could constantly hear the distant rumble of the once calm and harmless creek, which had almost swallowed the settlement in just a few hours. The sudden disaster had claimed a heavy toll of lives, and dozens of citizens were still missing... drowned or safe on the nearby hills, nobody could know yet. However, most of the settlers had found shelter on the upper floors of the most robust buildings, or even on their roofs. Safe, for the moment, but at the same time trapped on their tiny islands, with little food or -almost ironically- water. Fortunately for them, help was on the way. Only a few days after the disaster, indeed, ships with the blue flag of Oleon* had appeared in the bay, and the first rescue teams had reached Neuburg with their longboats. At the town hall, General Tristan Rimbaud was facing some unexpected complications. Despite the dire situation, the Burgmeister was reluctant to accept foreign help, and several minutes were needed to convince him that the sovereignty of the Empire of Carno was not being questioned or violated. While looking for his best translation of "sign of friendship between our Empires", Tristan was almost surprised that the other survivors hadn't thrown that arrogant man out of the window... at least not yet! At the end of the useless and extenuating negotiation, the rescue team was allowed inside. The longboat was moored at the first-floor balcony, and the first soldiers ventured inside. If the gods decided to finally show some mercy, all the survivors would soon be provided with food and evacuated to safety. Standing on the roof of a flooded house, however, Tristan was not particularly hopeful about the gods' benevolence. Was there somewhere safe, after all? Concerning tales were arriving from all over the New Haven Region, where wild storms raged and the sea itself had started to boil. Maybe the Finis Dierum had finally come, as some preachers claimed... in that case, kings and queens would have been just as ridiculous as that Carnite mayor, clinging to their power as the World itself was flooded! Tristan didn't know but, at the moment, he couldn't even care. His loyal Raiders had followed him once more, almost literally to Hell, and they still had a mission to complete: people were in danger, and, at least for that day, they could still be saved. Screw the preachers! If the End of the Days was upon them, they would have faced it head-on, not crying and kneeling in some temple! ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The rescue team inside the building: A soldier looking for survivors on the first floor... a dangerous task, as the floor could collapse at any moment! Looking for a mooring point. Will that piece of furniture be heavy enough? A soldier with a battlefield stretcher: lightweight and easy to carry, but robust enough to carry a man out of harm's way! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Additional angles: Neuburg mayor at the window, with a lantern signaling the presence of survivors. A Carnite soldier inside the building. Waiting for help, but also ready to repel possible looters. The longboat, with the soldiers ready to divert floating objects or fend off alligators. An overall view, from a bird's eye perspective..
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South of Seawatch, El Oleonda, April 624 The cannon emerged slowly from the murky water, one centimeter after another. Despite the time spent in the water, the barrel seemed in a good state. With a few blows of a shovel, one of the engineers removed the remaining pieces of the wooden carriage, buried too deep in the mud. Soon, that cannon would have been cleaned, inspected, and most likely mounted on a new wooden support, in the military workshops of Fort Firmo. A cannon barrel was too valuable to let it rot in a bog: that Lotii weapon would have become instead part of Seawatch port batteries, or maybe of a field artillery unit. After their defeat in the Battle of Seawatch, the Lotii had quickly withdrawn toward the Eastern settlements, leaving traps and ambushes to delay the pursuit of the Coalition forces. The attacks of hostile native tribes and guerrilla operations of Jiangkai troops, together with bad roads, terrible weather, and mass desertion of mercenaries, however, had soon turned the orderly retreat into a complete rout, and countless cannons and heavy carriages were abandoned along the way: what had started as a brilliant disengagement had quickly turned a desperate march for survival. The Lotii had lost a quarter of their army, and an immediate new offensive seemed unlikely. Therefore, that represented an excellent moment to reorganize the coalition forces in Seawatch, repair the town fortifications, and, indeed, salvage as many as possible of the abandoned Lotii cannons... better to have them in safe hands, than to allow the enemies -or the armies of other allied empires- to recover them! With the help of workhorses and mules, the military engineers of Oleon towed the cannons out of bogs and rivers, or out of the mud of the jungle trails. In most cases, the carriages had been damaged, but only a few artillery pieces had been spiked or blown away... a few days of work, and most of them could have been put easily back in battery! Other units, scattered all over the jungle, were recovering cases of ammunition, gunpowder barrels, small arms, and other abandoned equipment, and occasionally also accepted the surrender of stragglers and small Lotii units left behind during the last months. Even though no organized resistance was usually encountered, some Lotii soldiers had resorted to banditry or had chosen to continue the war on their own. Therefore, all the salvage expeditions were accompanied by chasseurs and soldiers of Fort Arltrees militia, who knew the jungle as their own pockets. A small MOC set on El Oleonda, with the military engineers of Oleon recovering a Lotii cannon from a bog. Build inspired by @Ozzy_4321's MOC about salvaging/capturing abandoned Lotii cannons.
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Somewhere in the jungle, El Oleonda, May 624 They had snatched the prize out of his hands! But it was not over, not yet. He would have put his hands on that treasure, in one way or another. A warrior appeared in front of him, the face horribly painted. The Daca raised his wooden spear, but he was a second too slow: Frederick von Undingen cut him down with his sword, without even slowing down. He would have returned, he swore. He would have returned with more men and some good cannons, maybe a company of Namerian mercenaries... and he would have wiped out those savages from El Oleonda, he would have killed them all! Then, the treasure of the Lotii fleet would have become the key to a new life of wealth and, even more importantly, power! Frederick only needed to reach Seawatch alive, and the cards would have turned in his favor again. Some would have been angered with him for his failures, but nothing he couldn't handle. Professor Wagner's group had been massacred, leaving no useful notes behind. In their abandoned camp, however, Frederick had found a little booty of Lotii gold: not much, but enough to convince his friends in Aden to forget some little things and support his future endeavors. They had little time to lose, however, since the Oleonese seemed to have captured a survivor of Wagner's expedition... if he only had ordered Kurt to shoot that man first, he would have felt safer about his plans. The bushes in front of Frederick disappeared, suddenly replaced by a small clearing. Somehow, he managed to stop his run, just a few steps before a cliff and the violent rapids below. Frederick realized immediately that he was in deadly danger: his little group had been cut out from von Stern's column, which was now on the opposite side of the stream. The Daca, instead, were all around them again. The Essians jaegers were fighting fiercely -they were excellent soldiers, he had to recognize that- but the warriors seemed just too many. His loyal Kurt shot a warrior at point blank, killing him on the spot. A second and a third one were already running towards him, spear in hand... with no time to reload, his musket was now nothing more than a robust club. Two warriors were almost upon him. There were no battle cries, as usual... only the low, menacing hiss anticipated the attack of the Daca, together with their hellish drums. Frederick raised his sword in a high guard, bracing for their attack. He deflected a spear lunge directed at his face, then turned to his right, aiming for the chest of the incoming warrior... but his right foot found nothing but air. Before he could even realize it, Frederick was falling. Frederick tried desperately to recover his balance, but the dirt at the edge of the cliff was too slippery. For a moment he remained almost still over the roaring water, staring at the triumph on his enemies' face. Then, the bag with the gold dragged him behind, towards the rapids and a watery grave. He was still holding it, he realized. His ticket towards wealth and power. Ironic. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This MOC, as you can see, represents the aftermath of my TC2 storyline, from the Carno point of view. I plan to publish a conclusion scene also for the other parties involved, that is the Lotii and Oleon, before moving to my future plans. Since I really liked this storyline, the setting, and the characters I had created, I thought they deserved a proper conclusion for their journeys. I hope you liked my storyline and these conclusive scenes too! For possible newcomers, Frederick von Undingen, graf von (Count of) Wiesemberg, is a borderline psychopath, a villain in my storylines, and probably a sort of loose cannon also for his nation. This should explain his very questionable points about massacring all the natives of El Oleonda, the complete disinterest in his comrades dying, and similar amenities. Here he receives what he deserves, but there will be no body available for burial... if this is really von Undingen's end, or if you'll see this character again, remains to be seen! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Lotii gold falling into the river from a different angle. A better angle, in my opinion, but the MOC was too small to show the scene from this point of view. Since I like the result, I'll attempt something similar in the future. Overall view:
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, May 624... or another time? Konrad was exhausted. He hadn't eaten anything in days, and for sure he hadn't slept at all... not after what he had seen. The previous days were only incoherent flashes for him, but that was enough to keep him walking: the bivouac with Hans and Professor Wagner, somewhere in the Labyrinth. Hans shooting his musket to scare a jaguar away. The drums, those damned drums in the darkness, getting closer and closer. The javelin piercing Hans' chest. The guards trying to run away, just to fall after a few steps. Professor Wagner placing a backpack on his shoulders, pushing the cipher in his hands, and yelling him to run away. Then everything he could remember was jungle, ruins, and jungle again... and the parrots, repeating Professor Wagner's last words, again and again. He tripped into something and almost fell. It would have been so easy... falling, and then just lying down to rest. But Konrad had something important to do: he had to bring the cipher to someone, but at the moment he couldn't remember to whom. What he knew for sure, however, was that the cipher was actually something else, something that could change their understanding of the New World... but he was too tired to remember exactly why. He was so tired... but he had to keep walking. In a corner of his mind, Konrad noticed that the ground was scattered with countless artifacts: style B terracotta bowls, and a jasper statuette of the same age... probably lying there since the fall of the ancient city. Finding so many objects from the old times was extremely unusual, even in the Labyrinth. For some reason, the modern natives must have avoided that place, out of fear or respect. But where was he? Konrad had never been there, he was sure. The palace was incredibly well-preserved, despite the plants growing out of every crack. However, it was the first time Konrad had ever seen a building retaining so well the original decorations. If it had been possible, that place almost seemed... alive? The walls seemed freshly painted. There were bright curtains at every window, and Konrad even saw a bird feeder for the parrots. Then Konrad saw that there were people all around him. How was it possible? How could have not noticed them before? They were clearly natives, and their paintings resembled the ones of the savage Daca who had slaughtered his friends... but everybody seemed friendly, and Konrad couldn't see any weapon. Konrad realized he was in the middle of a marketplace: people were selling fruits, fish, and wonderful terracotta objects... ...but also corn, spices, and the huge eggs of birds that -Konrad was sure- didn't live on El Oleonda. Native merchants from all over the New Haven Seas, or even further, must have gathered there to sell their wares! Looking better, Konrad thought to recognize some of their tribes: a man from Salida Este, with his bright cotton jacket, and a woman from Fatu Hiva, with her peculiar scarf.... ...even a Myzec from Cascadia, wrapped in a jaguar skin. However, there was something strange: that place, the way those people dressed and behaved... everything seemed different from the native settlements Konrad had seen around the archipelago. Everything seemed at the same time more ancient, but more advanced and civilized. Konrad roused himself. All of a sudden, he realized that he was hungry, thirsty, and shaking from the fever. He tried to ask for help, for food and water, but nobody seemed to hear him. He tried in Carnite, in Tyree'De, and even in Lotii. Desperate, he even tried to barter the cipher for some food, but the merchants didn't even notice him... as if he wasn't really there, or as if they were only shadows of a distant past. All of a sudden, Konrad was alone again, back in the jungle. Back to his time, and his desperate situation. He started crying. The natives, the market, the colors on the building... everybody had disappeared, and he was probably going to die. But... but there was still someone! A man in a blue tunic, coming in his direction! That man had come for him, he was sure... to bring him back to the city, to that wonderful market, out of that damned jungle! He started thanking him in tears. Maybe that place was the afterlife, but it didn't seem bad at all! Konrad was outmost surprised when the man answered, in a stumbling Carnite: "Mon ami, I have no idea of what you are talking about... but we'll bring you out of these damned ruins, you have my word!" -------------------------------- Overall view: Note: I planned two more parts after this, but probably (due to the deadline approaching), I will probably only publish a conclusive part. As you can see, here I decided to join two different "versions" of the same build in a single 20x20 build. The use of the medium nougat limited me a lot in the part choice, but I really like this color... and I hope you'll enjoy the result!
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, May 624 "Well, this is clearly not the right way!" Mumbled Tristan Rimbaud. A stream of water, narrow but extremely fast, had suddenly appeared in the middle of the ancient road. The river seemed to cut the whole city, as an ink line on a map: it crossed roads and even some of the ancient buildings, from North to South, as if it had appeared out of a spell. "Let's rest for ten minutes, men! Then we'll have to find a way to cross!" For some reason, Tristan knew that trying to turn around was not an option... it seemed that someone had stretched a map of El Oleonda a little too much, creating a laceration. On the other side, Tristan could see the rest of the city. Houses, palaces, temples... the ruins continued, but everything seemed to be shifted of almost one meter to Tristan's right. What force could move half of a city, ripping the ground as old paper? With a brief prayer to Poseidon, Tristan hoped never to find it out. Nobody knew who had built the Labyrinth, nor all the ruins scattered across the New Haven region. The catastrophic events that happened centuries before on El Oleonda, however, had probably signed the end of that advanced civilization. Tristan couldn't help but think of a legend he was once told by a Tamaco scout: a legend about a tribe so powerful to make the Gods themselves envious, and that was destroyed in a single night of wraith and storm. The ancient constructors of the ruined city and their fate surely represented a fascinating mystery. At the moment, however, Tristan was far more concerned about the current inhabitants of the Labyrinth… the reason why all every soldier was on edge, with the musket firmly in hand. A ferocious tribe, called Daca by the other people of El Oleonda, had taken over the place. Nobody knew how they called themselves, as every attempt to communicate had resulted in a fight. For some reason, those savages seemed to fear the sea, and to ferociously hate the foreigners living on the coast: the scouts had reported about whole Lotii units massacred among those ruins… the Carnite had chosen a dangerous place for their stroll. With the cliff in front of them, Tristan and his men were in a dangerous position. They had to cross that stream of water, and they had to do it quickly, if they wanted to anticipate the Carnite to their mysterious destination Suddenly, a voice broke the usual sounds of the jungle. It came from the other side of the river, no more than fifty meters far. Tristan couldn’t understand the words, but the man was clearly speaking in the language of Carno… alone, apparently. Then, among the confused words, he heard something, loud and clear: “Die Chiffre”. The road they had taken was not that wrong, after all. ————————— A different view: Overall view: The editing took me far longer than expected… I hope you’ll enjoy the final result!
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Previously: Where a goat can go, a man can go, and where a man can go, he can drag a cannon. Somewhere on the hills, El Oleonda, August 622 The siege of Seawatch had already lasted several months, but the defenders were carrying on, in one way or the other. A small group of agents of Le Service Secret, who had infiltrated the settlement a couple of weeks before the siege, was coordinating the defenders' efforts. The garrison was small, but well-trained, and could rely on a few batteries of powerful Essian howitzers to keep the Lotii artillery at bay. Moreover, while the siege was completed in the first weeks, the blockade was constantly defied by small sloops: brave captains used the cover of the storms to outmaneuver the large Lotii junks, delivering food and gunpowder to the defenders. Without external help, however, Seawatch was clearly doomed, and a final Lotii assault seemed only a matter of time... and, after Seawatch, Fort Arltrees was the next in the line. This seemed a good reason to drag those cannons under the tropical sun of El Oleonda. In preparation for a large-scale assault, a column of soldiers left Fort Arltrees for the interior: the plan is to open a road across the hills, so that the incoming attack could arrive from a completely unexpected direction. The Corrish attack to Aurelia had taught an important lesson to Oleander strategists, and now it was the turn of the Lotii to receive an unpleasant surprise! Even if the mission was mainly opening the way and establishing and advanced stronghold, the column is equipped with a few 6-pounder field cannons. The carriage was lightened as much as possible, but a cannon is not exactly a lightweight, especially on a mountain trail! The soldiers, volunteers drawn from various light infantry units, know that their efforts would be rewarded in case of unpleasant encounters with Lotii outposts: a cannon is always a strong argument in a skirmish! Now the soldiers of the Empire were marching up the hill, panting and cursing, but always going forward. They had no luggage carts or ammunition carriages: to move faster and remain unnoticed, every soldier carried some supplies, a bag of gunpowder or, for the most unfortunate, a few cannonballs. General Tristan Rimbaud, the commander of the detachment, looked proudly at his men. During his childhood, he had always read a lot about the soldiers of the ancient Empire, the legendary legionaries: according to the chronicles, they often won by marching for weeks with armour, supplies and even the poles to fortify the camps, attacking the enemies where nobody expected. But he didn’t need the soldiers from remote times, he had something better: chasseurs and marsouines, the elite of the Empire… or, at least, the best troops available! He didn’t trust at all, instead, the man at his side. He didn’t know his name or rank, but he was the liaison officer with the secret services. For what Tristan knew, he had sent without hesitation the group of agents in Seawatch to a certain death. The Services were known to have little scruples, and to sacrifice whatever they considered necessary for the Nation… and Tristan was not particularly willing to become a martyr of Empire! Additional pictures: Note: while EGS troops have not moved yet, this build should pave the ground for the offensive towards Seawatch. The design of the troupes de marine, the marsouines, was first introduced by @Khorne (as several other great units) during the Terraversa campaign.
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Sacred Tyree'De grounds, El Oleonda, December 622 The sacred House of the Ancestors, one of the holiest sites for the tribes of El Oleonda, was located somewhere between Fort Arltrees and Seawatch. Like most of the temples and the villages of the Tyree'De, it was built among the ruins of the ancient civilization that inhabited the island: majestic cities and temples laid in the jungle and on the heights, mysteriously abandoned centuries before. It was surprising how fast the Tyree'De (a blend of indigenous people and stranded Lotii sailors) had developed their own culture, religion, and myths, and how fast that small group had become one of the most important tribes of the New Haven islands. That day, however, Tristan was not there to talk with the Tyree'De about their fascinating culture: he was there to win the native tribes to the cause of Oleon, and help the Empire to win the incoming war. The Tyree'De had always been friendly, and many warriors had joined the army as scouts and auxiliaries, but other tribes had remained neutral or openly hostile. The Tamaco people, in particular, had sided with the Monomonto since their arrival on the island. While the Lotii forces were encircling Seawatch, the Tamaco warriors had intercepted all the Carnite messengers before they could reach Fort Arltrees, and had forced Tristan's scouts to maintain a certain distance from the Lotii positions. As Tristan discovered, however, the relations of the Tamaco with their new lords had deteriorated quickly. In the highly hierarchical Monomonto army, the natives were not considered as allies, but as “ashigaru”, that is subordinated peasant soldiers. After a Tamaco chief was beheaded by a “samurai” for insubordination, most of the native warriors deserted in mass. With the mediation of the Tyree’De chief, Tristan met the leader of the Tamaco. The sacred grounds, where no weapons were allowed, were the ideal location for the difficult talks: decades of rivalry with the Tyree’De were difficult to forget, but at the same time an alliance with Oleon was probably the best defence against a Lotii reprisal. The Tamaco leader proved to be a reasonable man: for sure he was a though warrior and a proud man, but he listened carefully the proposals of the Olee’Ion war chief… and, in spite of the warnings (clearly impartial and prejudice free) that Tristan had received from the Tyree’De, he didn’t even try to eat his liver! Outside the walls of the sacred land, the blue warriors were fraternising with the natives, exchanging gifts and showing them their mighty thunder spears. Armed warriors secured the area: the meeting, with the war chiefs of the main tribes of El Oleonda (Tamaco, Tyree’De, and the newly arrived Olee’Ion), represented an inviting target for the Lotii warlords. The situation, however, seemed completely calm, and no incident had occurred among the different groups. As the discussions went on, a large banquet was prepared, as the sacred traditions required: if the talks had been successful, all the warriors- the ones with the blue coats, the Tyree’De with their red bandanas, the Tamaco with the painted faces, and all the others- would have eaten together. Otherwise, all the food would have been burnt for the gods of war, and the two chiefs would have fought to the death on the sacred ground, or they would have been considered coward and blasphemous. Despite the sacred traditions, however, everyone hoped for the success: together, the tribes were stronger and, despite the rust between Tyree’De and Tamaco, nobody really wanted a bloodbath. Moreover, that food looked so inviting… ———— While Tristan was discussing with Atanak (the Tamaco chief), Lieutenant Marcel Dubois (the major of Fort Arltrees) took the chance to visit the fascinating House of the Ancestors. In the Tyree’De culture, that building represented all the members of the tribe who had gone to the World of the Spirits: in that place, the tribe remembered them, and the shamans tried to receive their wisdom in times of need. Food offerings were deposed on the central table, while objects of the Ancestors themselves were lined along the walls: weapons, masks and amulet, but also glass bottles, Lotii coin and old maps, memories of the sailors stranded decades before. Discovering the mysterious Tyree’De culture, however, didn’t seem to be Marcel’s only interest… and the beautiful daughter of the tribe chief, apparently, reciprocated him! ——— Overall view: ------------------- Many fantastic builds have been published in the last weeks, and I'm far from keeping up with everything. With this, I'm trying to progress my story, show the effort of Oleon to befriend most of the natives of El Oleonda (not only the Tyree'De) and answer at least some of the last development on the island.
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"To these constructions, necessary for such huge quantities of water, would you dare to compare the useless pyramids of Tellvok or the works of the Pyrites, as famous as they are unproductive?" Water, safe and drinkable water, is the lifeblood of a settlement. Wood and building materials can be shipped from a long distance, food and commodities can be imported and stored, but very little can be done about water: without a reliable source of fresh water, a settlement can't survive. When the wells get dry or the river changes its course, when the crops and the livestock begin to die, people can only abandon their houses. This, fortunately, will never happen to Fort Arltrees. The city, which already received water from the nearby River Rimbaud and the ancient canal system, can now rely also on a modern aqueduct. Back in the Old World, aqueducts were a point of pride for the Ancient Empire, even more than the majestic temples or the towering statues. Most of the aqueducts were abandoned during the Dark Ages, as only a few far-sighted kings had the knowledge and the resources to keep them working. For centuries, therefore, people of the Madrician nations had to rely only on wells and rivers, until enlightened monarchs began rebuilding the vital water infrastructures. In the New World, modern aqueducts are still a rare sight: the one of Fort Alrtrees is only the second, after the one of Mesabi Landing on Alicentia. Fort Arltrees Aqueduct connects the settlement with the springs on the King's Hills, crossing several miles of fertile countryside. In the city, it supplies a large number of fountains and drinking throughs, and even more importantly fills some large cisterns: even during a harsh siege, Fort Arltrees will not remain without water. The war raging in the eastern part of the island, however, couldn't seem more distant: after the military columns left the settlement, life returned to its normal rythms... crops must be sowed or harvested, no matter if a Carnite settlement in the East is besieged! The ensign of the Rimbaud family decorates the pillars of the arched bridges (actually a small part of the whole aqueduct, but the most impressive one), since the infrastructure was privately funded. Despite the huge interests of the Crown in the city, Fort Arltrees remains in fact a squatter settlement, at least on paper... a strange status, for the actual capital of Oleon colonies in the New Haven Sea region! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Overall view: As you may notice, I'm currently forced to work with a small part of my bricks, hence the little monotony of colors in my last builds... however, I'm quite satisfied by the result. I liked the idea of building something completely new here in BoBS, but apparently @Mesabi had preceded me of a few years... nice aqueduct BTW, somehow I had missed it at the time! To be licensed as a medium property, even if suggestions for the category would be extremely appreciated!
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The Labyrinth, El Oleonda, December 622 "Enemies ahead, take cover!" Shouted Tristan, as his men started to kneel behind the ruins or in the thick undergrowth. "Open fire, at will!". Bullets started flying in all the directions. The chasseurs aimed carefully before each shot, but also the Lotii were in a good position. After the Lotii had disengaged from the siege of Seawatch and had -likely- returned to their bases, nothing seemed really different from two years before: both armies were hidden somewhere in the jungle, as invisible as if they had been an ocean apart; only small patrols crawled in that green hell, hunting one another and looking for any sign of the enemy forces. Things, however had actually changed a lot since then: the recruits just dragged from the West had quickly been replaced by battle-hardened jaegers and chasseurs, the Lotii militiamen by the finest warriors of the four banners. Now all the fights had become fiercer, and any mistake was paid in soldiers’ lives! That day, Tristan was crossing the Labyrinth with a company of light infantry, when they surprised a group of Lotii soldiers coming from the opposite direction. The huge complex of ruins represented one of the few reference points between les Colines du Roi (the King’s hills) and Seawatch, and could either represent a safe shelter or a deadly trap: the Lotii knew that place too, and dozens of men could in any moment be -completely unseen- just a few buildings apart. The place must have been an important city, the largest among those discovered on El Oleonda. Now, however, only a few large palaces were still standing, covered by the vegetation, among a web of alleys, canals and low walls. One of the Lotii fell, wounded or dead, as his comrades continued shooting. The two groups were just a few metres far, but the ruins offered them a good protection, and most of the bullets just shattered some old bricks. The Lotii were fighting well, but they were outnumbered, and soon they started to disengage, disappearing again among the ruins. Everything finished in a matter of minutes, then the jungle was silent again, as if nothing at all had happened. Even though the soldiers of Oleon had won, their victory was almost pointless. The chasseurs owned the battlefield, but the enemy had disappeared, as always, and very next day it could have been their turn to die or to run for their lives. That evening, Tristan scribbled just a few words on his diary: “Lotii scouts engaged and repelled. Still no trace of the enemy army. All quiet on El Oleonda”. ——————— I put together this moc quite quickly, but I’m very satisfied by the result! I hope to show soon more of the Labyrinth, actually a ruined city somewhere on El Oleonda (since there are no official “King’s Hills”, it could basically be anywhere). In the campaign, it should be considered as a minor skirmish, part of the recognitions from the advanced positions often light infantry. C&C are welcome, as always! I hope you enjoyed the build and the story!
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Although difficult to transport through a fresh-cut and narrow jungle road, artillery is a critical component of any modern army. Here some poor souls from the artillery branch work to dislodge their 6lb field gun. Although frustrated, they are surely greatful that they don't operate one of the many larger pieces in the Oleonda Division. Part of 3.Division's march to Seawatch. Thanks, ♧
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Jiangkai paddy fields, El Oleonda, January 623 Somewhere in the rice fields outside Jiangkai, a heron was strolling in the shallow water, looking for frogs and small fish. Apparently, the bird enjoyed that new hunting ground even more than his usual swamps: food was abundant, and the farmers never annoyed it, even if the humans were particularly noisy that day. The excitation of the farmers was well justified: during some repairings, some strange minerals had emerged from an embankment... with a bit of luck, they could even be worth something! The heron, however, couldn't care less, and just passed by. Actually, it wasn't even a "heron", an Old World name for an unknown bird in an unknown land... but it didn't seem to be particularly offended by the lack of fantasy. Instead, it had just spotted a fat toad, and was already foretasting its dinner! ----------------------------------------- A small prospecting vignette for Jiangkai, on El Oleonda. My usual white setting (as you can see in the last picture) was not very appropriate, as many details faded in the background, so I used a darker picture on my laptop screen. I hope you like the result! With this, I also finished one of the short periods in which I could build at ease... so I'll finally catch up commenting all the great builds published in the last month! @Ayrlego, if the procedure hasn’t changed this is up to you now, thanks!
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December 621, El Oleonda, Somewhere near Fort Arltrees After weeks of digging, the new gold mine of Fort Arltrees was now operating at full regime. As he walked by dozens of miners busy with their hard job, Marcel Dubois couldn't help but notice how close the place resembled an anthill... an appropriate comparison, since at least as many miners were working right below his feet, digging narrow tunnels in the rocky ground of El Oleonda. At the last corner of the known world, at the very border of the map, citizens of Oleon were doing what they had always done: they were working hard and they were defending what they had earned, weapons in hand if necessary! The director of the mine was already waiting for him, a case of gold ingots at his side, an armed man behind him. Marcel could have easily guessed the point even without that staging: the mine was important for the wealth of the Empire, but the military instability of El Oleonda still dampened investments from the motherland, and productive activities had to hire armed guards for safety. He had heard the same complaint at least a dozen of time, since civilian merchants had appeared on the island. Marcel took a deep breath and greeted the director... in these moments he almost missed the first days of the settlement, when he only had to deal with undisciplined soldiers or drunk trappers! As the director complained about the situation, Marcel tried with all his forces not to punch his face... how the hell could he "grant peace and stability, so that Fort Arltrees could finally flourish", if the surrounding joungle literally crawled with military units, bandits, stragglers and deserters? ------------------------- A several metres below, a team of miners were struggling against the hard quartz of El Oleonda, advancing inch after inch into the rich gold vein. Meanwhile, other miners carried to the surface the rock fragments, a monotonous, exhausting job. Until carts and rails are built, this difficult task will be done by dint of arms! At ground level, the mineral is transported along wooden rails by heavy oxen carts... ...to a small furnace, where gold is smelted out the rock fragments. -------------- Overall view: ------------------- A gold mine for fort Arltrees, to complete the prospecting build I made months ago. I hope you like it!
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The call of "Land Ho!" had come from the crow's nest thirty minutes earlier - they were nearing El Oleonda. As they approached the wild-looking island, Post-Captain Rittenhouse consulted a map and said, "We're just to the west of Fort Arltrees, Sir Jonathan. I'll signal to the rest of the fleet to keep farther to sea as we round the next headland." "Very good! Corporal Yeoman, head belowdecks and let the 26th Foot know our long voyage is nearing its end! Soon enough we'll bring the fight to the Lotii!", Brickleton replied.
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The Altonian Commercial Mission Part of the Foreign Merchants' District of Fort Arltrees Altonia has never really been a country of sailors and explorers. A lively class of merchants always existed in the nation, but their activities were mostly limited to the export of hard cheeses or the import of salt from Wisimar. Times, however, had changed quickly, and some had started to look beyond the traditional routes and wares. The recently opened Breshaun-Ulric trading route renewed interest in the New World among the most enterprising Altonians. After long discussions in the parliament, an influential league of merchants had convinced the government to claim sovereignty over the so-called Bat Island, in the Prio Seas... a small island with no proper mooring point, thousands of bats, and a native tribe still unaware of having become subjects of Her Majesty, Queen Brigette III. However, not even an outpost was established yet, and many thought that Altonian government was still not seriously pursuing its colonial adventure. To participate in the New World spice trade, a group of Altonian traders established a commercial mission in Fort Arltrees: apart from profit, their not-so-hidden aim was to attract the Queen's attention to the colonies, and to push the Crown to finally take some more serious steps on Bat Island. Informally, Oleon supports this plan: an Altonian colony on Bat Island could represent a friendly port halfway between Lavalette and Kojima, in an area infested by the pirates of Barracuda Bay. As the commercial mission was not directly backed by the Altonian government, the guards were not drawn from the army but were instead civilian volunteers. With all the books describing the New World as a tropical paradise, it was not particularly finding young men looking for adventure! The Altonian guards were equipped with modern muskets and uniforms but still wore cuirasses while on duty... when they were equipping their men, the Altonian merchants had still in mind Armond Basker and his conquistadores. Paprika and dried chili peppers had quickly become the main interest of the Commercial Mission, even though small amounts of tea and other spices were also exported. Compared to pepper or vanilla, chili peppers were not considered the most interesting good by the merchants of the main colonial Empires. The spice was very sought after in the Old World, and a cargo of paprika was still worth a little fortune, this was true, but the plants had quickly adapted to other regions of Halos, and now chilis were planted at ease also in the Mokolei Empire, in New Oleon, and even in some areas of the Madrician peninsula... even if definitely not in cold countries, such as Carno, Garvey or Altonia! Dried chilis were carefully mixed and controlled before being packed in bags of canvas and shipped to the motherland: a moldy cargo of spices would not make a good impression on Queen Brigette and her court! For paprika and ground chili, barrels and caskets were usually preferred. The Altonian merchants had also started to export, alongside the raw spices, blends of different chilis, paprikas, and local herbs. These products were having a lot of success, both in the motherland and in the rich westernmost colonies in the Sea of Storms. Unfortunately for the Altonian merchants, this also meant tasting way too many chili peppers, ranging from slightly spicy to unbearably hot. Hopefully, the people in charge of this were paid a little extra... In the little office, a curious machine helped the clerks with their duties: built by an Altonian clock-maker and inventor, it can make complex mathematical operations through an intricated system of buttons and dented wheels. Operating it, however, is so complicated that many still prefer the old, dear, paper and ink! Hide contents A different angle: ---------------------------------------- Here you can find the interior of the third build of the series, the Altonian Commercial Mission. A little less elaborated than the previous ones in terms of furniture, as I tried to keep it a little more warehouse-like. I hope you like it!
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The battle was won, and the enemy was retreating... southwards or eastwards, to form a new defensive line between the advancing enemies and the city of Oryant. Only a few hours before, the shock troopers of the Empire had shattered the first line of the Lotii: after slicing through the defenses as a blade in the butter, they assaulted batteries, deposits and command points, causing absolute havoc among the enemy troops. Despite the complete victory, nobody among the soldiers of Oleon was celebrating any longer: during one of the first assaults, General Hercule François was hit by a stray bullet. The old commander was brought by his soldiers' hands to a farm outside Seawatch, but the red stain widening on the uniform left little hope for his survival. Almost by chance, one of the soldiers started humming, soon followed by another, and then another one. It was an old, sad song from Western Eranos, Tristan's motherland... the mourning of the soldiers for their dying officer, killed in one of the uncountable border wars. He had heard his chasseurs singing it dozens of times, but that day... that day it felt different, with their general on his deathbed. "The Captain of the Company / is wounded and he's about to die / he sends word to his chasseurs / so that they can come and see him." None of the officers Tristan had lost had had that luxury... not the old Captain Montier, drowned in his blood with an arrow in the neck, back in a dark Varcosian wood, nor the brave Major Artaud, found under a pile of dead Salleeki pirates, the sword still in hand. But going without a word wouldn't definitely halve been General François’ style, thought Tristan with a half smile. "His chasseurs go tell him / they have not shoes to walk there. / Shoes or not shoes, shoes or not shoes / I want my chasseurs here now!" In the old song, the soldiers are tired, tattered, and wounded. They are far, and they have to walk with broken shoes. On El Oleonda, the bluecoats were ready to gather around their commander, forming a wall around him. Their uniforms and their flags shane as a beacon in the jungle, despite the stains of mud and blood: no irregulars, natives or scouts, around the wounded general, but the best line infantry of the Empire. He would have been proud of his men, if he could fully realise what was happening around him... "What are the orders, Captain, Sir? / Your chasseurs now have arrived! / I command that my body / in five pieces it shall be cut!" Gruesome, yet somehow poetic... nobody even questioned why the wounded captain of the song could want that weird ritual, or how could the receivers of those weird "gifts" react. That was the tradition, the rhyme sung around the fires in the cold nights of Eranos and in the Varcosian woods... and so let the captain be sectioned by the singers one more time, without inappropriate doubts! General François didn’t ask anything similar, but still all his officers were gathered around him, to listen for his final words. "The first piece to her, the Motherland / so that she can remember her soldier. / The second piece to the battalion / so they remember their captain." General François had several defects, he was arrogant and loved the wine a little too much... but, for sure, he was a true patriot and an excellent soldier. Under his command, the soldiers felt unstoppable, as they charged with the banners flying in the wind. Despite his rank, he fought on the first line, pistol in hand, alongside his beloved bluecoats. No, the motherland and the army would never forget General Hercule François, with or without a piece of his body! Tristan realized that he had tears in his eyes, and that by now all the soldiers were singing, even the ones who had never been in Eranos. "The third piece to my dear mother / so that she can remember her son. / The fourth part to my sweetheart / so that she remembers her first love." Well, General François' mother was since long gone, and that left one spare part... that could come to use, considering the rumors. One part should probably have gone to Guemain Manor, to the General's widow, and another to the village, to the house of a certain peasant girl. A little François could already have been born, by the time the sad news arrived back in the motherland... "The last part to my woods / that will cover it with roses and flowers." Tristan didn't know where the General would have found his final rest... maybe in the woods of Gueiman, back in the motherland, or in a mausoleum there on El Oleonda. For sure he would have not lacked the flowers. The fallen commander would have been remembered among the heroes of Oleon, and the citizens of the Empire would have paid homage to his tomb for the next centuries. The song was over. The men marched on in silence, pushing forward the captured Lotii cannon: the light infantry of the allied forces was forming an advanced line on the hills south of Seawatch, in case of an enemy counterstrike. Meanwhile, the main forces were reorganizing, preparing for the next blow towards Oryant. Colonel Beauchamp had just taken command of the Oleonese contingent: everyone was still mourning the General, but the war was far from being over. The Siege of Seawatch, the Raid on Jiangkai, and now the death of General François... yes, the war was far from being over. And soon, that cannon would have been put to good use! ------------------------------ Just a quick reaction to the last KPA, and a heartfelt farewell to General Hercule François. Some of the builds are mine, others are from @Ross Fisher (pics 2, 4, and 6) and @Jeff of Clubs (pic 5). The song from Eranos is actually a famous, very sad, song of the Italian Alpine troops (The Captain's Last Will), dating back to WWI, and translated more or less literally. However, songs about wounded generals asking to be buried in multiple places have existed since at least the 16th century, with the Song of the Marquis of Salluzzo.
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April 622, Somewhere not far from Seawatch, New Haven Sea "Hoist the mainsail, ya scurvy dogs!" - the captain was yelling at the top of his lungs, but hearing him in the whistle of the wind was still very difficult- "Let's see if those fishing boats wanna dance with us!". The "fishing boats" had just rounded the promontory, one mile behind, and were closing in fast... but as soon as they left the cover of the shore the waves started to hit them with their full strength. The sailors of the Stormchaser laughed wildly as the three junks started to swing and list dangerously, the sails flapping out of control: they could imagine the chaos, the soldiers slipping and rolling on the deck, the wheel spinning around... for that day, their chase was definitely over! "Brace yourselves lads! Give me more jib and say farewell to those bilge rats!" The little crew roared and ran to the ropes. Soon, the Lotii would have turned back to their port, seasick and humiliated, and Seawatch would have been fed for one more day. The Stormchaser, and many other little ships with her, were the last, weak connection between Seawatch and the rest of the world: the settlement was surrounded, and all the roads had been cut. However, the Lotii junks blockading the port were not as fast and seaworthy as the Madrician sloops. When the sea became rough, therefore, brave and slightly mad captains tried the dangerous routes from Fort Arltrees or Spudkirk, defying the storms and the enemy patrols. They were called Sturmreitern, the riders of the storms, because that was exactly what they did: riding the waves and the winds, that the Lotii didn’t dare to face! Some considered them smugglers and profiteers, others called them heroes and saints... whatever the truth, their cargoes of dried meat, hardtack and gunpowder allowed Seawatch to survive. Before departure, the boat had been stripped of anything less than essential, then barrels and crates were fastened in every empty space. The little ship must remain as light and fast as possible, but the cargo had to be worth the risks! "Port ahead, Cap! I see the lighthouse!" The little port tower had been shelled several times, but somehow it was still standing. They had completed another passage, one more line to carve on the mast. Now the waves seemed funnier, and everyone was laughing and cheering... apart from the Carnite officer they had taken on board, who was still a little too green to talk! ---------- Front view of the Stormchaser A side view of the ship and its support ------------------------- After a week on a sailboat, I can finally present you the Stormchaser, which I completed soon before my departure! I'm thinking of licensing it as class 2 or 3 (suggestions appreciated: 22 studs at the waterline, 40 at the deck, excluding the bow mast). This is an idea I had before the siege of Seawatch was lifted, but I never had a chance to complete it. Now that the "humanitarian smuggling" task of the Stormchaser is over, it can move to more profitable businesses!
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Garvian League Guildhouse Part of Fort Arltrees Foreign Merchants' District Since the very first days of the Age of Discovery, ships with the flag of Garvey were a common sight in the New World. When the ports of the Mardierian colonies were still closed to all the other Madrician Nations, indeed, the Garvian smugglers already visited them with regularity, mooring in hidden bays and eluding the hunt of Lotii patrols. Over the years, the Garvians strengthened their presence beyond the line, establishing their own settlements and even winning a colonial war against Mardier in 617 A.E. In the last years, however, they had started to fall a little behind the other nations: Freeport and Leopaldis remained little more than small towns, and no settlements were established east of Prio. The relations between Oleon and Garvey had never been hostile, but they never were particularly warm either. Everybody knew that the Empire of Light and Mardier were close friends, and that only reasons of political opportunity kept Oleon out of the Garvey-Mardierian War... in those days, everybody in Freeport feared to see a row of blue banners appearing on the horizon! International politics had its rules, however, and holding grudges with one of the most powerful empires never seemed a good idea. Nobody was therefore particularly surprised when the Garvian League, the powerful guild of merchants dictating most of Garvey colonial policies, asked to establish a seat in Fort Arltrees trading district. Due to the close relations between Carno and Garvey, several dispatches were exchanged every day between the Essian and the Garvian delegations... too bad for the messengers that the two buildings are almost at the opposite ends of the district! The Guildhouse was garrisoned by a little unit of Garvian marines, wearing the dark blue uniform of the infantry. Due to the tight connections between the mercantile companies and the government, the Guildhouse was one of the few buildings in the District guarded by a contingent of regular soldiers, and not by private guards or trade company troops. On the upper floor, the small office was largely occupied by a long table. Due to the corporative nature of the Garvian League, representing rich merchant families, trading companies, and the merchants' guilds of different cities, important decisions often required complex discussions among the different representatives. In Fort Arltrees, so far from both the motherland and the main Garvian colonies, the seven available seats were rarely all occupied, and most votes were delivered by letter. At the moment, the Garvian representative had just signed an agreement to supply Seawatch with food and other supplies coming from Fort Altrees farms: while the siege was over, the fields around the town were still largely abandoned and devastated by trenches and other earthworks. With the Lotii war junks still lurking in New Haven Seas, the ability of the Garvian smugglers could once again come to good use! The lower floor of the building, instead, was completely occupied by a warehouse. Due to the absence of large distilleries in the growing settlement, the import of rhum produced in the Prio Sea Colonies was a particularly profitable business, even if the delivery journey was long and difficult. Garvian sailors didn't have particularly good fame in the colonies of the New World: they were considered excellent seamen, but also undisciplined, violent, and a little too eager to turn to piracy. They hadn't created specific problems in Fort Arltrees yet, but the city watch passed twice as often in front of the taverns where they meet than in any other area of the city! Another thing Garvian sailors were renowned for was gambling: differently from other navies, the Garvian one allowed cards and dice on board, even though the punishments for ensuring brawls were severe. Never challenge a Garvian in a game of card, if you want to keep your money and your shirt!
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Fort Arltrees, El Oleonda, November 623 War was still raging on El Oleonda, somewhere in the East, but the inhabitants of Fort Arltrees weren't particularly concerned. The enemy army was reorganizing around Oryant and Luyang, and the only immediate threat to the Fort was represented by bands of Lotii stragglers and Carnite deserters: they still created some troubles for the most isolated farms... but, after all, that was the New World, and always keeping the musket at hand didn't seem something particularly unusual. Therefore, during the previous months, the settlement kept growing steadily: the arrival of the allied contingent required more warehouses for the supplies, more workshops to fix the carriages, more blacksmiths, more stables, and obviously houses and taverns for all the workers. The gold mine and the farms also contributed to attracting a third wave of colonists, ready to seek their fortune in this remote corner of the Empire. With the allied fleet securing the main trade routes, and the safety offered by the imposing fortifications, the wealth of El Oleonda started attracting enterprising men from all over the Empire, but also from abroad. In Fort Arltrees, merchants from foreign nations were encouraged to settle and start their businesses in a dedicated district, close to the commercial port. In the plans of the local authorities, the presence of foreign merchants in the settlement will further boost the economy of the settlement, encouraging more regular visits from the Madrician commercial fleets. On the other hand, Oleon doesn't want to repeat the mistakes made by Mardier with Terraversa: closing the port to the other nations would only encourage them to try establishing their own footholds in the New Haven Seas, with no control or advantage for the Empire of Light. Several nations established a commercial emporium in the settlement: these little buildings represented at the same time warehouses, offices of the commercial delegation, and informal embassies. To avoid crossing too much one another's path, each trading company specialized in a few specific wares: trading from and to the very corner of the map is already complicated enough, and nobody wants to start pointless concurrencies! In the Foreign Merchants' District, hundreds of doubloons change hands every day: a single ship loaded with spices, dyes, or sugar may be worth a real fortune back in the Madrician nations, while some relatively common goods produced in the motherland or in the Western Islands might be rare and expensive in the New Haven region. In the District, it is also possible to hire captains, ships, and crews of almost any nationality, to circumvent the current political complications: for a fair price, you could get a shipment of Lotii porcelains, or even get a passage to the Southern Kingdoms on a neutral ship; needless to say, this is also of great interest for the secret services, and the "Altonian salesman" who just embarked for the Lotus Empire could easily be an agent of Corrington or Oleon, an ambassador involved in secret talks, or even a Lotii spy! Sailing under a foreign flag can also allow a safer journey to Fort Arltrees for rich passengers, valuable objects... or both, as in the case of the famous painter who has just been hired by the Garvian delegation! A real army of porters works in the district and in the nearby port: hundreds of crates, barrels, and bags have to be moved every day from the ships to the warehouses, or vice versa. Not everything, however, is worth its weight in gold, as in the case of the shipment of fruit and vegetables just delivered to the Mardierian delegation. Even if Fort Arltrees looked very different from the small hamlet of wooden shacks of only a couple of years before, the settlement was still very different from the most civilized cities of the Western Islands. Despite the fancy buildings of the District, trappers and boucaniers are still a common sight in the settlement, and the inhabitants are not particularly picky about the possible meanings of "roasted venison"... differently from that Altonian officer, who would probably think twice before visiting a local tavern! Unfortunately, the development of Fort Arltrees also started to attract a few scoundrels and petty criminals... apparently an unavoidable price of progress and prosperity, in the New World exactly as in the Old one. This officer from East Terraversa should have been a little more watchful while telling tall tales about the Glorious Revolution of 616... Citizens of Southern descent represent a relevant minority, as some inhabitants of Jiangkai resettled in Fort Arltrees after the destruction of the settlement. Some Monomonto swordsmen, abandoned by their own comrades and simply left behind, asked to serve in the Grande Armèe of Oleon: most of them were enlisted in the King's Musketeers, a unit already well-known for the swashbuckling skills of its members... if with a rapier or a katana, apparently, makes little difference for the recruiting officers. ------------------------------ A list of foreign commercial missions: The Essener New World Trading Company The Ferrer Family Commercial Enterprise The Altonian Commercial Mission Miroslav Dobric's Trading Emporium Garvian League Guildhouse Terraversan Commonwealth Rum-Runners ----------------------------- OOC: This diorama includes several little details, including a full interior for most of the builds. Therefore, apart from text completion, expect it to remain “alive” For the next few days, as I figure out the best way to assemble/move/reorganize the different parts! In particular, I plan to add individual posts for each building in this thread, so stay tuned!
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Terraversan Commonwealth Rum-Runners Part of the Fort Arltrees Foreign Merchants' District Close to the southern end of the Foreign Merchants' District, the East Terraversan commercial delegation represented the greatest surprise for most of the inhabitants of Fort Arltrees. Only three years before, Terraversa and Oleon had faced each other in a bitter war, and only the military intervention of Corrington and Eslandola -both on the island and in other areas of the archipelago- prevented a complete victory of the Empire of Light. However, while not completely defeated, independent Terraversa itself didn't survive the war. The eastern region of the island declared independence from the capital, in open rebellion against Archduke Oldis, giving rise to the Commonwealth of Terraversa. At the moment, the Commonwealth was struggling to recover from the war and, despite its dreams of freedom, it had de facto almost become a vassal state of Corrington. Allowing a commercial delegation of the Commonwealth on El Oleonda, together with the ferry built between North and South Sillitholina, represented an important attempt towards the normalization of the relations between Granoleon and Westface, even if doubts and mistrust still existed on both sides. An official Terraversan consulate in an Oleonese colony or formal trade agreements between the two nations was still far too much for both sides. Instead, an office and a small warehouse of a trading company represented a less "official" step, but still allowed some informal contact between the governments. If things worked well, an RNTC office might have appeared in Tarlor or Westface, in the future, breaking the almost complete monopoly of Corrington on the trade of the young nation. The name of the company, the Terraveran Commonwealth Rum-Runners, seemed appropriate for a band of smugglers... and actually it had started as such during the Mardierian rule, before the Terraversan Revolution granted it some respectability. Quite unsurprisingly, the acronym TCRR (with the "C" added after the Westface Secession) was often preferred, especially in official documents. The uniforms of the TCRR guards were clearly inspired by the ones of Corrish soldiers, even though their training was not even comparable with the one of Her Majesty's Royal Marines: with the militias still in place, even the regular army of the Commonwealth lacked men with military experience. A couple of soldiers guarded the entrance, while a figure in black slipped through the door, with an envelope of papers in hand. A simple merchant or someone else? An Oleonese diplomat? Or maybe a Corrish agent? The core business of the TCRR in Fort Arltrees -despite its name- was not Rum, but vanilla. The only known source of this valuable spice was Jameston, on Cascadia Island, but small vanilla crops existed also on El Oleonda. Due to the huge distance from the motherland, and the limited amount of production, Fort Arltrees couldn't compete with Jameston in this profitable business (not yet, at least), but the profit margin was still interesting. The TCRR office was small and overcrowded: bags and cases of vanilla pods occupied any available space, together with maps and piles of documents. The flintlock pistol on the director's desk, a memory of his past in the Terraversan Revolution, tended to make all the reports particularly fast and concise. Even though the Corrish influence was starting to take place in some aspects of the Commonwealth administration, the influence of Mardierian culture was still clearly recognizable: for example, in the overly decorated uniforms, or the baroque still-life painting hanging on a wall. Only time would have told whether the relations between the Commonwealth and Oleon could sooner or later normalize, or if the business of the TCRR in Fort Arltrees was destined to last. Profitable trade between two nations, sometimes, could be a good reason to avoid unnecessary wars between them! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The reason why the TCRR could only dispose of the lower floor was also the only reason why that small company could afford a place in the Foreign Merchants' District of Fort Arltrees. The reason had a name and a surname: Professor Alejandro Coronel, archeologist, writer, philosopher, and, as a hobby, occultist. This peculiar character was not interested at all in the vanilla trade, but had a desperate need to move on El Oleonda... something not easy, for a citizen of the Corrish-aligned Commonwealth. Therefore, he paid a significant portion of the settling taxes for the TCRR, and personally financed the construction of the building. In return, he occupied the whole upper floor and obtained from the company a passage to the island, as well as the promise to support him in all his future enterprises. The studio of this peculiar character was completely occupied by a variety of "findings": a variety of idols, ritual masks, maps, scrolls written in ancient languages, and many other objects. In an (apparent?) chaos, Atwi idols were positioned side by side with antiquities from Tellvok, Tyree'De artifacts, and ancient codices written by the first Mardierian explorers. Professor Coronel had heard about the ruins of an ancient city on El Oleonda, and hoped to finally prove his extravagant theory. Indeed, he firmly believed that an ancient civilization once existed in the East, far before recorded history: after ruling most of both the Old and the New World, that Empire had somehow disappeared, leaving mankind in the darkness for thousands of years. Even the Great Pyramids "of Tellvok", according to Professor Coronel, were actually an artifact of that ancient empire. How could all the other archeologists not understand this truth? Despite the plot of the Order of the Faith to conceal the truth, the signs were hidden in plain sight, if one just looked for them! Even the tarots, considered by many a senseless superstition, also told a part of the story... the Rising Sun, the East; the Broken Tower, a clear hint to the cataclysm that had destroyed the ancient empire. Little mattered if other symbols didn’t have an obvious meaning, all of them must have been in a way or the other allegories of the ancient disaster! Most of the academics laughed at him, but he would have proven all of them wrong! He only needed to find the proof of his theory somewhere in the archipelago, possibly even there on El Oleonda... the large islands of New Haven Seas were clearly part of the ancient continent, swollen by the merciless Ocean millennia before! He would have laughed last, he was sure… Even if most considered him a lunatic, and the TCRR guards hoped never to be chosen to accompany him in his expeditions (actually they had placed bets on how soon he would have disappeared in the jungle), Professor Coronel had actually done some important discoveries, down in Tellvok. Only time will tell if the Professor will be able to discover something about the ancient civilisation of El Oleonda, despite his weird theories, or if he will get lost in the interior. For sure, you will probably hear about him in the future!
