The Darthian Reform [Mutajara - Public] (1 Viewer)

Vadokim

Sandman
Subscriber


There is a growing anxiety in Mutajara. The people find themselves threatened by monsters, mercenaries, and magic beyond their darkest fears. First, it was the dragons, the wyrms and the undead, stubbornly refusing to cede the territory they stole. Then- it was Marov, a madman from far away, whose obsession and arrogance would drive him to kill and enslave.

Now, with those threats still lurking, the Rhakatari join the fray, biding their time. What happens behind closed doors? What rituals do they perform, bent on the destruction of Mandaraz? These questions hang heavily on the Mutajarans. Day by day, the sky grows bleak. The same could be said of their outlook.
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Castle Sannuhar has been sealed, but the populace gathers at its base. They have been summoned by the horns of assembly, awaiting an explanation.

Garai Dahan sits amid his oldest, most loyal Wardens. Duke Thaddeus Artorius (@Kaoiyr), Warden Saafiya Noor (@Marcus), Warden Cesarios Cipianos (@Retired) have all been invited to this meeting, but the other councilors of Mandaraz find themselves barred from entry.


"Brothers and sisters," says Garai, "New ally. Daughter. Comrade... I have brought you here to bear witness to my announcement. This may not go well- and you all are the only ones I trust to uphold Ka'ath in my stead."

"Emir Dahan,"
says a Warden, the light of youth gone from his eyes, "What announcement do you intend to make?"

"You will find out,"
he replied.

Garai left the table but was quickly followed by his retinue. Confused and worried, the old soldiers asked what his plans were. They asked about his intentions. He gave no answer. After navigating the spiraling stairs and corridors, they emerged on the great terrace of Castle Sannuhar, overlooking the masses below.


"Mutajara," he begins, projecting from where he stood, "My people. Speakers of Vershi. Traders. Farmers. Miners. Warriors."


"We have lost everything- over and over. The gardens of Azahara: reduced to dust. The plazas of Kinaz: devoured by the desert. Is this the past that will define us, shackle us- or is it the pretense for creating something new?"

"Look around- gates of strength and beauty; towers of vigilance; temples of faith; markets of plenty and... fields. Fertile as a mother's womb. This is not a nation built on pride or forged by conquest. It is a testament to us, to our resolve and love for each other."

"I was the son of a smith and a seamstress- a desert boy scrounging his existence from nothing. But when I was young, my mother used to say 'when all you have is nothing, there is much to go around.' Now, we have plenty- and that plenty is not hoarded by a powerful few, but shared throughout our province, bestowed on all who would contribute to our great vision."

"We cannot let them take that we have gained. The abominations of the dunes, who prey on man and animal. The mercenaries of the north- who know not love or discipline. The snake-folk- the Rahkatari, who raid and pillage at their leisure, making slaves and experiments of our people. And should I speak of the gods?... For even they are at war."

"Today marks the beginning of the Darthian Reform. The Wardens and I are your shields and swords, defenders and avengers- but we need your support. We will instill full rule by Ka'ath, and--Kurus wa Hayasia willing--my lordship over this realm. A Vershi King."

"If you aid me in this endeavor- you will not be aiding a man, or his bloodline. But the very principles and beliefs that hold us together. Mutajara, you are one people. You deserve a King who will serve you and rule righteously. A leader who does not put himself first."

"Whether or not I fulfill these criteria... is up to you. But I will pursue it nonetheless. These times of war will pass, and our culture will blossom. I will not rest until then. Ansha Kurus wa Hayasia- hedjet annun Ka'ath..."

The Wardens that surround the Emir are startled, but they say nothing. Many thoughts weigh on their consciences, even as Garai retreats into their midsts. Some remain to watch the crowd's reaction. Others follow their Commander.


Hours later, in some nameless, unremarkable camp- Garai sits alone. He cooks a piece of meat on a spit, and pours a pot of bitter coffee. He wonders if all of this was a mistake. Was he gripped by arrogance? What would the councilors say, when they found him? These are grave times, and no one can deny it. He hangs his head.
"My son," says a withered, female voice. "Why do you sulk?"
"I have made a mistake. Imagine what Krianna- or JaZir would say. What Quince would say."
"You have spoken your true thoughts and your true desires. That is what matters, Garai."
"The truth is not easy to come to terms with."
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Kaoiyr

Lore Team
Lore Team
Progression Team
The Lord Protector wasn't sure what to make of this. His opinion on Garai had changed. He watched from behind as Garai gave his speech, his announcement. As he understood what was going on, his mind blurred out the rest, being lost in his own thoughts. Thaddeus supported his ideas, what he told him, a better future. What he worried about wasn't immediate, it was the reactions back at home that worried him. Not many held Garai in a high light back at home. Many still remembered what happened, they were alive for it. Even Thaddeus was, but he didn't see the squabbling of their two Kingdoms in the past anymore, he saw what could be, not what is. He would never let the desert fall into another conflict so long as he could help it.

All he hoped is that this would go better than he expected in his home, as he had a war to fight, defending and assisting the very man who many Florentians remember.
 

thehorde

Event Team
Event Team
Shades of an olden age, images ftom another time sulked near corners and in manholes as the Emir projected his speech. They cried tears of joy, clapped and spurred the ceremonial words on as if it was the single most beautiful and prosperous thing to happen to their nation. And all was well. Honey dripped, the land flourished, even the gods were appeased.

Uneasiness took over one, then two; They began turning inside to outside, becoming wretched nail torn husks screeching and crying in agony until the wind swept their dusty forms away.

Yet no one seen this. Yet no one heard this. The wanderer gulped a swig of water right down and moved on and away as the speech neared its ends.

The ghosts clawed toward the orator, their teeth sharp and hungry for the soul of the one who abandoned them all. At that point, he braced himself and banished the ghosts by forcing his legs to carry him on winds and sand, away and into the dragons' lands. Fighting tears and vomit, the wanderer returned to the desert where he threw up at first then gradually shimmered his fright down, wary about Wúr and his taint claiming him overtime, but more anxious about a lost cause returning all to dust.
 

Retired

Complete Idiot
Subscriber
35114


The Aestatian sat quietly during the entirety of the aged Desert Elf's announcement. He sat in quiet reflection. Even as the other Wardens conversed and pondered over their own decisions. Finally, after contemplating the choices that had lead him to this exact moment; the man rose to his feet. He looked to the weathered faces of the inner circle of Wardens.
"When I had served my time in the Wuxine Korps, I had seen this man work tirelessly for his people. When I had manned the walls of Vikerne, he and his riders had come to the aid of the city and drove off the Voidling spawn. I have seen this man dive into the throat of a worm and explode out from within it when Vindicus attacked Miklagard. Empty promises and false words have been spewed forth by many-a-man but, not this man. Mutajara is thriving because of his tenacity and his unwillingness to keel over. Leptis Kinaz was the ruby in the desert. Mutajara is now the sapphire. Thrice he had helped his people, thrice had he built a home for them. I can continue on and allow the council to talk about what to do with the invaders in the desert, or I can follow him to the frontlines with my sword in my hand and run those bastards out of the Azaharr."
With that, Cesarios declares his support for the Darthian Reform within the walls of the newly renovated Fort Sanuharr.
 

Marcus

sarcasm and skin problems
Newcomer Training Team
Saf sat silent throughout this address, fingers gliding over the roughened surface of a Samburru charm held within one palm. She had sat through, as was her duty, many Council meetings. They often lasted throughout the afternoon, and much was spoken of yet little was done. They could talk no longer, she thought. Snakemen and avaltans alike infested the dunes, conspiring against her people and her home. Orators were fine in times of peace, but in war? Too much talk and not enough action would bring about not just her demise, but her loved ones and all her peoples'. Spirits willing her father would succeed. It would surely be hell if he didn't.
 

changelingirl

Inane content generator and local annoyance
Lore Team
Gotta think quick,
Gotta save face
Caught 'tween a rock and a hard place.
What'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do now?

-"Words to the Wise"

It's one of the wardens who tells Spinner, tracking down the Emira in the abandoned city where she sits in one of the crumbling ruins with her sisters. All three of them look up in unison. "Baz. What's up?"

"It's--" The warden hesitates. "It's Garai. He's....well."

As the warden fills her in, Spinner's face falls. Beside her, Glenn mutters something to Lynn, who removes her hat, expression blank. "I--is....is this a joke?"

"No joke, Spinner." The warden shakes his head.

"Where's Garai now?"

"Left. Only told his inner circle where he was going."

"And clearly I don't count as part of that," she mutters. "...thanks, Baz. You can go now."

"Are you going to--"

"No. I don't...." She sighs, hesitating. "If Garai had told me, I wouldn't....well, he didn't tell me. But I'm not about to start a revolution for a leadership position I never wanted. Thanks for telling me."

The warden nods and darts back to the city proper.

Spinner is silent for a long moment, Glenn and Lynn looking at her anxiously. "Er....Andy?" Glenn reaches out tentatively.

"....can you two do me a favor?" Her voice is quiet.

"Yeah. What?"

"When Garai gets back, I want to know. Can you keep an eye on his camp for me and tell me as soon as he returns?"

Glenn and Lynn exchange a glance. "....sure, Andy. Is that the best idea?"

"If you think I've ever had the best idea, clearly you've mistaken me for someone else." She flashes them a smile, a little crooked that doesn't reach her eyes. "Come on. We haven't finished our game."

"Andy--"

"I said, we haven't finished our game." When Glenn opens her mouth to say something else, she shuts it a second later as Spinner's eyes well up with tears. "Let me finish the game, okay? Can we just...do that before we have to do anything else?"

"...sure." Lynn picks up her hand of cards again, mouth set in a thin line. "Sure. We can do that."

Damned if ya don't
Damned if ya do

Whole damn nation's watchin' you.
What'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do, what'cha gonna do now?
-
"Words to the Wise"
 

AMOH

Desert Cataphract Man
Event Team
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It will happen, my Boy.
You will be cast from your station. Your right.
The World's Sands shall swarm you and consume.
You are not proven. Now you shall be.

═════════════════════════════════════════════
The decree was not a foreign thought to the young Mustafi. In fact, he was the first to hear of Garai's intent, save for the Marshal's own ears. To see his grandfather's beloved talk of seizing the opportunity to claim himself a Vershi King...it was not unexpected. A servant of the Sands who had devoted so much of his own sanity, blood, and might to do right by his people, his sins. A man- nay, a Darthian who would no longer bend the knee to ideologies and fantasies. False promises and failures would not guide him, the Marshal. Deny the younger Mustafi till he became of age, Kyros could understand this. Claiming sovereignty as he was his ward, that struck him. Such is the ways of supposed hypocrisy. What could a child do but think such a way? Not being given the chance to prove and yet here was a proud Darthian proven in more lifetimes than most legends of the Southern Sands. The people revered Garai, a Zaheer who could not fail. Did not fail. Whose blood was noble because of his deeds, not only his vision. This much is clear.

Kyros would simply watch, as advised to him by a wise-tongued One who happened to also bear witness to Garai's announcement. When the time came, he would reinstate his claim. Untether the stigma of superstition and misfortune that seemed to shackle itself upon his lineage and name. Even if he were to lose those things, those traditional cornerstones of a Slave of the Sands, he would forge his own path...

One that required him to keep his distance.
 

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