Kastane
28-07-2004, 01:54
Capitol city of Ceres, Kastane, near Mount Claire
A crimson carpet, dark, and ragged from many years of wear, sat at the center of a cavernous granite hallway. The walls were likewise covered in draping tapestries that formed the main source of insulation and decoration interspaced with the occasional Sparkcaster fixture, its three prongs set half an inch or so apart created a fluttering white light softened only slightly by a curved piece of frosted glass that diffused the light ever so slightly. Though the nation had long since had light bulbs, spark casters were considered holy things… a cast back to a bygone era, and hence why they adorned the massive hallway Providing adequate light with which to read and interact with other senators, though today the halls were empty except for the occasional armed guard that stood near their respective posts the walls were solid granite, in fact the entire building was solid granite a single massive piece of granite hewn to fine tolerances by the miners, and later stone masons who had created the temple, it was just how things were done.
The mountains had been here for ages and ages beyond memory, but the people were relatively new in comparison… first they had taken shelter in the caves… learned the craft of mining, and shaping stone, and then began to improve on what nature had given them… the temple that stood silently on a hill was truly the collaboration of three thousand years of isolated development, and technique, and it was truly something to behold… What fractures there were in the rock had been exploited, and exaggerated to form windows, doors, indoor streams, statues, columns, and what have you. There were such fine tolerances of the smoothing of the stone both inside and out from a distance the building seemed as if conjured from the bones of some massive beast splitting form from the earth. At the rear of the massive temple rose three spires each one capped with a large crimson red polished crystal a beam of light bouncing between the three crystal illuminating the small valley of the capital in a soft red light. That helped guide travelers safely home.
This was not the only building of this type in the land… not by a long shot, digging, mining, and art ran in the peoples blood, they were by no means fighters… never really had to, their homes sat totally landlocked, a geographic depression in once highly active collisions of tectonic plates that had sat dormant since the last ice age, and… for the moment… had been the definitive quiet artist community. Stone craft, Alchemy of various forms (science) , and Metal crafting dominated the peoples time.
The Protectorate of Kastane is a diverse, and intelligent nation whose inhabitants grew up in tight nit communities that usually sold their metal, stone, and wood worked products to the farmers of local nations every now and them in the market near the border, though a good source of trade for the communities, it rarely meant any political interaction between the nations, and there was no enforcement of the border except by the ring of cloud topped mountains that encircled, and harbored the nation. The elected officials were complacent, and laidback, except for one man.
Donovan Alexander, the Leader of Kastane, was worried, and rightly so. The six foot man in his late thirties had promised the small and rugged nation of craftsman, changes… something easier said then done with no real outside political connection. Standing up he began to pace back and forth in the lavish wood panel covering the stone walls, lost in thoughts, and regrets on his promise, in the three years he’d been in office he’d done a fair amount in comparison to his predecessors, but the Schismatic party was demanding more…they were not reverent to the old ways, and kept threatening rebellion, and his promises did little to quell there passion for change. His mind settled on an idea that worried him slightly, and it would take the senate by surprise, but he knew he had little room for option, He MUST open his borders to the world or face the consequences of his promises falling short.
“all right I’ll do it…” he sat down seemingly defeated by his mental battles to the witness of a short, dark-haired man with a wide grin.
“I’ll take care of It Don, no need to worry… this is merely the beginning.” Jack Devin of the Minister of Foreign Affairs (a relatively new title for the nation) Stood and bowed reverently to the Praetor and opened the door walking out of the lavish office and onto the worn crimson carpet the a guard closing the door behind him as he walked off, leaving don in his office face down on his desk, the People of Kastane, Donovan being no exception, always treated major changes with slight suspicion and opening up their tiny nation to international conversation and trade was something that had worried him… but how the Cathedral of Padua would respond was something that had plagued his dreams, and his waking hours.
Racheal Monastery, Forestae
Abbot Kamara and two acolytes all dressed in long crimson robes Walked down the long dimly lit stone passageway one of hundreds that cut deep in Mount Claudaugh making his way deeper, and deeper into the passageways following a route few knew, and even fewer could remember coming to a large metal door its hinges bolted directly into the rock a circular lock set flush with its surface of the metal door was engraved with a flowing design of serpents and swords radiating from its center. The Abbot Placed three fingers on the design corresponding with three of the snakes heads and rotated it slowly a series of clicks, squeaks, and groans came from the inside of the door as it slowly unlocked and swung open with a creak of un oiled hinges. Revealing a pulpit of stone fringed with projections of amethyst and illuminated from above by a slowly tapering skylight that traveled several hundred feet to the surface lighting up a large metal covered book with a similar looking lock as the door frame sat on the pulpit dusty hanging in the air of the nearly ancient store room.
“Careful young acolytes the tome is not one to be under estimated, remove it from the pulpit and prepare it for its journey… the Cathedral has need of it…” The abbots words were slow, and steady as if the book were about to jump alive and consume them all… which from the rumors the abbot had heard in his many years of guarding it might not be far from the truth…
The acolytes did as they were told, and with the utmost caution removed the booed and secured it in a red velvet bad before following the abbot out of the storeroom.
Two days later The Cathedral of Padua, Mount Padua
Setting near the exact center of the of the country sat a Cathedral of monstrous proportions the remnants of a once massive mountain had been shaped over the last two hundred or so years into a massive structure, that stood as the foundation of Kastane Science, and Religion at its gargantuan entrance young boys sold white clothes to pilgrims, and priests as they walked in they were greeted by a waste high brass bowl spinning slowly a cleansing cloth sat at four points and wiped the sharpened edge clean. regularly pilgrims reached out and pressed their fingers or palms against the edge, its sharpened rim cutting deeply as their blood trickled down the sides of the bowl and washed down a central hole at the bottom the pilgrims using the small strip they had purchased outside the cathedral to cover the wound as the continued deeper into the temple content with their tithe of blood.
Stepping past the flow of Pilgrims stood Abbot Kamara a red cloak concealing his identity and the tome in its bag slung over his shoulder pushed past the crowd and silently entered a small side room. Were several priests, and abbots stood waiting.
“Do you have it?” most of them asked inquisitively
“yes brothers, I have brought the tome from its protection as asked… ” He said hesitantly a bit shy, but deep down he was terrified, as to what the Cathedral intended its use for… surely such a relic would not be called out of centuries of protection with out the dire need of its use. “But why brothers? Surely you don’t mean to open it?!” the abbot realized his rising pitch, and tried to keep his voice down.
A man in the back stepped forward and pulled back his hood revealing a short trimmed salt and pepper style goatee, he was powerful figure, though the Abbot had never seen him before. “ Give us the book and you can go back to your monastery… this issue need not concern you…”
The abbot was awe struck, who was this man, and who was he to order an Abbot of the Order of Padua about “ Now listen here! , I don’t know who you are but I report to the Bishop, and the bishop alone! I should have you Arrest--” but before the abbot could respond one of the other abbots stepped over and whispered in his ear abbot Kamara’s eyes went wide with shock, as he bowed humbly. “my Apologies your Eminence…”
Kamara swung the satchel from off his shoulder and placed it on the table, turned and walked off not believing he had almost told the Arch Bishop where he could stick it…
“Gentlemen, Brothers, and Acolytes; the Praetor has decided that we are to open up our borders to the sin of the world, and invite that sin into our homes… I for one don’t feel we should stand for such undermining tactics… and within this book lies the goal to the continued purity of the Order…” The Archbishop smiled, and ran his hands over the velvet satchel.
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Arriving via conventional post office to many world leaders; is a simple white envelope addressed to several world leaders containing a simple sheet of parchment closed with the Praetor Alexander’s private seal.
Greetings,
Allow me to introduce myself, I am Praetor Alexander the current leader of the Protectorate of Kastane, and in the interest of increasing continuality we are seeking diplomats, and ambassadors to come to the nation of Kastane for a tour, and survey of our small but proud nation. We have nothing to hide from the world and so welcome others to see the pristine beauty of our nation that we have for far too long kept to ourselves. Though there are no current airports inside the nation Landing outside our borders, should be easy, and it is a short trip via boat through the Pteros canyon to the nations capital of Ceres. We do hope you’ll join us.
-Praetor Alexander
The Protectorate of Kastane
OOC: Slight fantasy/future tech Nation here presenting part Introduction/character development just before all hell is about to break loose. Low risk for anyone you wish to send, but not no risk… it wouldn’t be interesting if you were guaranteed secure ^_~
A crimson carpet, dark, and ragged from many years of wear, sat at the center of a cavernous granite hallway. The walls were likewise covered in draping tapestries that formed the main source of insulation and decoration interspaced with the occasional Sparkcaster fixture, its three prongs set half an inch or so apart created a fluttering white light softened only slightly by a curved piece of frosted glass that diffused the light ever so slightly. Though the nation had long since had light bulbs, spark casters were considered holy things… a cast back to a bygone era, and hence why they adorned the massive hallway Providing adequate light with which to read and interact with other senators, though today the halls were empty except for the occasional armed guard that stood near their respective posts the walls were solid granite, in fact the entire building was solid granite a single massive piece of granite hewn to fine tolerances by the miners, and later stone masons who had created the temple, it was just how things were done.
The mountains had been here for ages and ages beyond memory, but the people were relatively new in comparison… first they had taken shelter in the caves… learned the craft of mining, and shaping stone, and then began to improve on what nature had given them… the temple that stood silently on a hill was truly the collaboration of three thousand years of isolated development, and technique, and it was truly something to behold… What fractures there were in the rock had been exploited, and exaggerated to form windows, doors, indoor streams, statues, columns, and what have you. There were such fine tolerances of the smoothing of the stone both inside and out from a distance the building seemed as if conjured from the bones of some massive beast splitting form from the earth. At the rear of the massive temple rose three spires each one capped with a large crimson red polished crystal a beam of light bouncing between the three crystal illuminating the small valley of the capital in a soft red light. That helped guide travelers safely home.
This was not the only building of this type in the land… not by a long shot, digging, mining, and art ran in the peoples blood, they were by no means fighters… never really had to, their homes sat totally landlocked, a geographic depression in once highly active collisions of tectonic plates that had sat dormant since the last ice age, and… for the moment… had been the definitive quiet artist community. Stone craft, Alchemy of various forms (science) , and Metal crafting dominated the peoples time.
The Protectorate of Kastane is a diverse, and intelligent nation whose inhabitants grew up in tight nit communities that usually sold their metal, stone, and wood worked products to the farmers of local nations every now and them in the market near the border, though a good source of trade for the communities, it rarely meant any political interaction between the nations, and there was no enforcement of the border except by the ring of cloud topped mountains that encircled, and harbored the nation. The elected officials were complacent, and laidback, except for one man.
Donovan Alexander, the Leader of Kastane, was worried, and rightly so. The six foot man in his late thirties had promised the small and rugged nation of craftsman, changes… something easier said then done with no real outside political connection. Standing up he began to pace back and forth in the lavish wood panel covering the stone walls, lost in thoughts, and regrets on his promise, in the three years he’d been in office he’d done a fair amount in comparison to his predecessors, but the Schismatic party was demanding more…they were not reverent to the old ways, and kept threatening rebellion, and his promises did little to quell there passion for change. His mind settled on an idea that worried him slightly, and it would take the senate by surprise, but he knew he had little room for option, He MUST open his borders to the world or face the consequences of his promises falling short.
“all right I’ll do it…” he sat down seemingly defeated by his mental battles to the witness of a short, dark-haired man with a wide grin.
“I’ll take care of It Don, no need to worry… this is merely the beginning.” Jack Devin of the Minister of Foreign Affairs (a relatively new title for the nation) Stood and bowed reverently to the Praetor and opened the door walking out of the lavish office and onto the worn crimson carpet the a guard closing the door behind him as he walked off, leaving don in his office face down on his desk, the People of Kastane, Donovan being no exception, always treated major changes with slight suspicion and opening up their tiny nation to international conversation and trade was something that had worried him… but how the Cathedral of Padua would respond was something that had plagued his dreams, and his waking hours.
Racheal Monastery, Forestae
Abbot Kamara and two acolytes all dressed in long crimson robes Walked down the long dimly lit stone passageway one of hundreds that cut deep in Mount Claudaugh making his way deeper, and deeper into the passageways following a route few knew, and even fewer could remember coming to a large metal door its hinges bolted directly into the rock a circular lock set flush with its surface of the metal door was engraved with a flowing design of serpents and swords radiating from its center. The Abbot Placed three fingers on the design corresponding with three of the snakes heads and rotated it slowly a series of clicks, squeaks, and groans came from the inside of the door as it slowly unlocked and swung open with a creak of un oiled hinges. Revealing a pulpit of stone fringed with projections of amethyst and illuminated from above by a slowly tapering skylight that traveled several hundred feet to the surface lighting up a large metal covered book with a similar looking lock as the door frame sat on the pulpit dusty hanging in the air of the nearly ancient store room.
“Careful young acolytes the tome is not one to be under estimated, remove it from the pulpit and prepare it for its journey… the Cathedral has need of it…” The abbots words were slow, and steady as if the book were about to jump alive and consume them all… which from the rumors the abbot had heard in his many years of guarding it might not be far from the truth…
The acolytes did as they were told, and with the utmost caution removed the booed and secured it in a red velvet bad before following the abbot out of the storeroom.
Two days later The Cathedral of Padua, Mount Padua
Setting near the exact center of the of the country sat a Cathedral of monstrous proportions the remnants of a once massive mountain had been shaped over the last two hundred or so years into a massive structure, that stood as the foundation of Kastane Science, and Religion at its gargantuan entrance young boys sold white clothes to pilgrims, and priests as they walked in they were greeted by a waste high brass bowl spinning slowly a cleansing cloth sat at four points and wiped the sharpened edge clean. regularly pilgrims reached out and pressed their fingers or palms against the edge, its sharpened rim cutting deeply as their blood trickled down the sides of the bowl and washed down a central hole at the bottom the pilgrims using the small strip they had purchased outside the cathedral to cover the wound as the continued deeper into the temple content with their tithe of blood.
Stepping past the flow of Pilgrims stood Abbot Kamara a red cloak concealing his identity and the tome in its bag slung over his shoulder pushed past the crowd and silently entered a small side room. Were several priests, and abbots stood waiting.
“Do you have it?” most of them asked inquisitively
“yes brothers, I have brought the tome from its protection as asked… ” He said hesitantly a bit shy, but deep down he was terrified, as to what the Cathedral intended its use for… surely such a relic would not be called out of centuries of protection with out the dire need of its use. “But why brothers? Surely you don’t mean to open it?!” the abbot realized his rising pitch, and tried to keep his voice down.
A man in the back stepped forward and pulled back his hood revealing a short trimmed salt and pepper style goatee, he was powerful figure, though the Abbot had never seen him before. “ Give us the book and you can go back to your monastery… this issue need not concern you…”
The abbot was awe struck, who was this man, and who was he to order an Abbot of the Order of Padua about “ Now listen here! , I don’t know who you are but I report to the Bishop, and the bishop alone! I should have you Arrest--” but before the abbot could respond one of the other abbots stepped over and whispered in his ear abbot Kamara’s eyes went wide with shock, as he bowed humbly. “my Apologies your Eminence…”
Kamara swung the satchel from off his shoulder and placed it on the table, turned and walked off not believing he had almost told the Arch Bishop where he could stick it…
“Gentlemen, Brothers, and Acolytes; the Praetor has decided that we are to open up our borders to the sin of the world, and invite that sin into our homes… I for one don’t feel we should stand for such undermining tactics… and within this book lies the goal to the continued purity of the Order…” The Archbishop smiled, and ran his hands over the velvet satchel.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arriving via conventional post office to many world leaders; is a simple white envelope addressed to several world leaders containing a simple sheet of parchment closed with the Praetor Alexander’s private seal.
Greetings,
Allow me to introduce myself, I am Praetor Alexander the current leader of the Protectorate of Kastane, and in the interest of increasing continuality we are seeking diplomats, and ambassadors to come to the nation of Kastane for a tour, and survey of our small but proud nation. We have nothing to hide from the world and so welcome others to see the pristine beauty of our nation that we have for far too long kept to ourselves. Though there are no current airports inside the nation Landing outside our borders, should be easy, and it is a short trip via boat through the Pteros canyon to the nations capital of Ceres. We do hope you’ll join us.
-Praetor Alexander
The Protectorate of Kastane
OOC: Slight fantasy/future tech Nation here presenting part Introduction/character development just before all hell is about to break loose. Low risk for anyone you wish to send, but not no risk… it wouldn’t be interesting if you were guaranteed secure ^_~