08-10-2003, 23:49
The Ipsissimus glared darkly at the council of Magisters. He was cloaked in the garb of his station, a crimson mitre adorning his head. The council peered darkly back at him, their combined power was easily as good as his and this was a dance they partook in often.
"We cannot allow our sacred science to be dirtied by the outside world. For a hundred generations since the ascent of the High Host we have not allowed another human to know that we exist here, and now that heather Carlot of Shamlus would deign to have us sell off our services like a nation of whores. I blame you for this, Garreth," Paracelsus pointed a long, gnarled finger at a broad-shouldered man in a dark blue robe, a yamulke-like beanie resting upon his head.
"Pardon me, Ipsissimus, but had it not been for your constant pushing, perhaps Carlot wouldn't have the support that he does. Our nation has been hardest-hit in the agricultural regions, the area that you have been most harsh with. How can we expect the rivers to continue to roll uphill without that aid of farmers properly trained with the Shektina?" Magister Cairene pointed out, fiddling with the long chopstick-like sticks of many colors that held her complex bun in place. Cairene was the youngest and certainly most attractive of the Magisters, she was also Ipsissimus Paracelsus' daughter.
Garreth, a man who could easily tear out the Ipsissimus' intestines and force-feed them to him, nodded toward Cairene and then to a third Magister, Magister Praun, "Magister Praun, Magister Cairene and I have all decided that the best plan of action would be to allow foreign diplomats into the nation. Perhaps if they could see all that out skill had to offer, they'd be willing to aid us with means more conventional than calling down the power of the Fierce Ones. I mean, have you seen their 'AK-47s' and their 'nuclear bombs.' A few pulls on a trigger and you have ten dead heathens."
Paracelsus' face became red as blood. "You would suggest that we kill our countrymen so easily? As misguided as they are, Carlot's soldiers are still people of faith!"
Garreth put his eyes into Paracelsus' soul and spoke calmly, with venom, "It may take a few deaths to scare them into their place, but if that's what it takes. This is our decision, Ipsissimus, and you may stand against us into stalemate but it is the best plan of action."
The Ipsissimus sulked for a moment and then sat down, "Fine. Praun, hide every device of greater rank than 2 beneath the Grand Temple and send out an invitation to any interested nation. We shall tour diplomats about our nation in an attempt to endear them to our faith and the beauty of our land. Perhaps they will be able to provide us with the means to make our nation whole again."
A very cordial invitation is sent to the leaders of countless nations, inviting them and a small group of their countrymen (parties of 3 at the absolute most) to visit. The invitation is highly sigilized and uses the most respectful terms possible given the language of the receivers.
"We cannot allow our sacred science to be dirtied by the outside world. For a hundred generations since the ascent of the High Host we have not allowed another human to know that we exist here, and now that heather Carlot of Shamlus would deign to have us sell off our services like a nation of whores. I blame you for this, Garreth," Paracelsus pointed a long, gnarled finger at a broad-shouldered man in a dark blue robe, a yamulke-like beanie resting upon his head.
"Pardon me, Ipsissimus, but had it not been for your constant pushing, perhaps Carlot wouldn't have the support that he does. Our nation has been hardest-hit in the agricultural regions, the area that you have been most harsh with. How can we expect the rivers to continue to roll uphill without that aid of farmers properly trained with the Shektina?" Magister Cairene pointed out, fiddling with the long chopstick-like sticks of many colors that held her complex bun in place. Cairene was the youngest and certainly most attractive of the Magisters, she was also Ipsissimus Paracelsus' daughter.
Garreth, a man who could easily tear out the Ipsissimus' intestines and force-feed them to him, nodded toward Cairene and then to a third Magister, Magister Praun, "Magister Praun, Magister Cairene and I have all decided that the best plan of action would be to allow foreign diplomats into the nation. Perhaps if they could see all that out skill had to offer, they'd be willing to aid us with means more conventional than calling down the power of the Fierce Ones. I mean, have you seen their 'AK-47s' and their 'nuclear bombs.' A few pulls on a trigger and you have ten dead heathens."
Paracelsus' face became red as blood. "You would suggest that we kill our countrymen so easily? As misguided as they are, Carlot's soldiers are still people of faith!"
Garreth put his eyes into Paracelsus' soul and spoke calmly, with venom, "It may take a few deaths to scare them into their place, but if that's what it takes. This is our decision, Ipsissimus, and you may stand against us into stalemate but it is the best plan of action."
The Ipsissimus sulked for a moment and then sat down, "Fine. Praun, hide every device of greater rank than 2 beneath the Grand Temple and send out an invitation to any interested nation. We shall tour diplomats about our nation in an attempt to endear them to our faith and the beauty of our land. Perhaps they will be able to provide us with the means to make our nation whole again."
A very cordial invitation is sent to the leaders of countless nations, inviting them and a small group of their countrymen (parties of 3 at the absolute most) to visit. The invitation is highly sigilized and uses the most respectful terms possible given the language of the receivers.