Forbath
17-05-2005, 16:02
<OOC>: Disclaimer: This is an extremely long introductory story to my nation. I expect skimming over it and reading the last bit will get you where you need to be if you want to roleplay. It's an open thread, all tech. I would request that you TG me if you want to RP other situations with my nation. Thanks for looking!
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"Forbath Begins"
The Reverend Vaseline Forbath peered out the largest viewing window in his office, which, incidentally, was the largest viewing window in the entirety of this city. Tiered down and away from his vantage point, the City Made of Ashes radiated out like some obsessive Euclidian architect's idea of a giant flower. All pink and aglow in the twilight, most the buildings were poured and polished from that rich quartz-concrete the Reverend's father had traded secrets for in some other plane. This young metropolis was the capitol of the Dominion of Forbath, inset amongst the vast wierd "sand-and-jungles" of the Cluster. It was so austere, so minimal, and so squarely geometric. And yet it managed to be so very detailed, the Reverend mused. The City Made of Ashes was a misnomer, he knew, given by his dark-minded father who had established the place. Right now, as the sun nestled itself into the horizon, the capitol looked more like "The City Made of Pink And White Fire-cubes". "I'll rename it," he chuckled to himself. Of course he would never do such a thing. That name was an ancient tradition, even if the city itself was barely over the hundred-and-fifty year mark. The Dominion of Forbath had arrived in the Cluster a little over two-hundred years ago, a motley band of pan-dimensional refugees. As soon as they had set foot, they had began turf wars with the indigents, all in the name of gestaldt ideals, and all because of the commands of the current Reverend's father, the late great Aninnaias Forbath. Aninnaias Forbath had warred with the natives for fifty years before establishing a capitol and letting his flock rest, and that was merely a brief respite--After laying the foundations, they started up again three years later. Perhaps appropriately, one year after the wars began again Reverend Aninnaias Forbath had died of old age (three-hundred and thirty-six), and the Reverendhood had passed to his eldest son, Vaseline Forbath. The Reverendhood was the highest political office in the land, and the only one that was officially inherited. Everyone else was appointed. Reverend Vaseline Forbath had spent the last century-and-a-half making peace with the Cluster natives and waiting for his father's old sympathizers to die and shut up. Now, finally, that whole ordeal seemed to be nearing a resolution. The Preacher's Seminary, a collection of the Dominon's appointed administrators, was completely rid of the previous Reverend's advisors, save one: The only one of his father's advisors that Reverend Vaseline Forbath trusted.
Preacher Briggs swept into the office of the Reverend, brandishing about some legislative scrolls as if they were either on fire, or made of solid gold. Reverend Forbath knew that, while Briggs was a good man, and an active one, he floated somewhere between an old traditionalist's near-fascist conservatism, and a new, libertarian sort of idealism. Once in a while, the Reverend imagined he could literally see Briggs' mind kick off from one mental wall and rebound back and forth between the two, until Briggs was nearly catatonic from indecision and internal struggle. Aside from that major flaw, Briggs was usually quick to action, making the right decisions and sometimes showing more wisdom than even the Reverend himself. So the Reverend Vaseline Forbath relied on Preacher Briggs, and always tried to keep him decisive.
Briggs was pacing, his political robes whirling about. By now, the couple of young Freeguards who had escorted him in had taken up their places in wall nooks around the office of the Reverend. From there, they were swiftly mesmorized by the Preacher's agitation despite their training. "I don't like it, sir," Preacher Briggs began.
"What don't you like, Preacher?" Reverend Forbath asked calmly. "Pacing about and irritating your Reverend?"
"Oh, right. Right, sorry, Reverend Forbath." Briggs plopped down in an antique armchair, his cheeks reddening slightly around his white mustache. "What I mean to say, sir, is that I don't like the way these indigents are so damned hard to pin down on any issue."
"What, are they still nervous of us? I thought we put that issue to bed, Briggs."
"Yes, sir, we did. They're no more nervous of us than they could ever be since your pre--er, since the wars ended. What I mean is, it's extremely difficult to get them to commit to anything on paper. I'm not complaining, mind you, I just don't like it."
Reverend Forbath smiled a bit at this contradiction, his mouth abandoning its usual non-commital, straight line expression. "Well, that's fine, Briggs. I wouldn't worry about it, right? Remember, I told you that these natives are much more verbally-oriented. They just don't like a lot of paper-work". As an aside, he half-muttered, "The Dominion could really take a clue from them on that."
"Yes, sir." Briggs said automatically.
"So, what's the news, then, Briggs?" the Reverend prodded.
"Well, at the end of the day, our delegation has agreed that the so-called natives recognize our territory as ours, and are willing to move from the tentative cease fire to a more established form of...coexistence. However...." Here, Briggs sort of trailed off.
" 'However', what, Preacher?"
"However, they will only agree to it if we cease interference with their hool-domph rituals. And they're so scattered and anarchistic that it's hard to say, but I'm pretty damned sure they want your word on it."
"Well, well. That is interesting. Their ideas about our leadership are changing, eh? They seem to understand the significance of the Reverendhood, I'll bet. It's about time."
"But sir, we've not interferred with their sick little fertility rituals in nearly a century!"
"That's true, Briggs. But they've never gotten my word that we won't start back up any time we want, either. Now that we've been sending them Delegations, they seem to grasp our politics a little better. Wanting a guarantee is understandable."
"Reverend, did you plan on this? Letting those primitives know how the Dominion of Forbath really works?" Preacher Briggs had turned a bit white.
"Well, it's not as if it's a big secret, Briggs."
"Sir. With all due respect, your father spent his entire time in the Cluster making sure that we, our government, was inscrutable to these indigents."
"That's true. He also spent fifty years at war with them. Both of us were there when that went down. Don't you think absorption would be a much better victory?"
"Er, absorption, sir? Wait, you don't mean--"
"Yeah. Cultural assimilation."
"Reverend, they are perverts!"
"That's relative, Briggs."
"They fornicate-with frui--"
"To each his own, Briggs."
"But--"
"Don't worry, my good Preacher. I've made many a contigency. I'll even show you the societal planning diagrams, if you want. The indigents of the Cluster won't be passing off their cultural ideals to us, rest assured. We need some new blood after that war, Briggs."
"Yessir. I just--I guess I'm not really used to this."
"I know, Briggs. Even after one-hundred and fifty years, you're not really used to me. That's one of the reasons I keep you around, though. You reflect a part of my father's ideals, our old ideals." The Reverend smiled laconically. Briggs allowed himself an uncommon, relatively natural smile in turn.
"Well, sir, there're things an old dog just can't adjust to, I'm afraid." This was as close to joking with the Reverend that Briggs would ever get. There was a brief loll in the conversation, which was awkward for Briggs. The Reverend Forbath, on the other hand, never really felt awkward. Ever.
Forbath finally said, "So, it's decided: I will speak personally with the indigents, as soon as possible. We don't need to get into a pissing war with these savages again. And, seeing as that issue seems resolved, I think it's time to implement something a little more...large-scale."
"What did you have in mind, Reverend?" Briggs was sitting forward in his chair. He had been preparing to excuse himself, but now began to sit back again. The man was a bit older than Reverend Forbath, and, while he had obtained the Longevity and was still in very good health, Forbath had noticed that he seemed to tire more easily lately. No matter.
"I've been looking over some data from the Seminary of Technology and Information. I've also been checking up on our black-market information trade, and our mining activity as of late. I've come to two conclusions: One, that the Dominion of Forbath is supremely isolated and out of the loop regarding the world at large; It is like a hen wandering around a fox's den, and there are hungry, angry kits out there. Or some such quaint metaphor. Two, that we have enough resources now to produce a Builder Giz-bell. That will remove our blind-fold, I think."
"You mean, sir, that we have enough resources to support a population of twenty-three million toothsome little brainy things flying all over the globe?"
"Well, only the Builders are particularly intelligent, and they die within 72 hours, as soon as they've increased exponentially to that magic number of 23 million you just mentioned."
"Sir, you know that a number like that will possibly attract attention to us, even if a Giz-bell is only the size of a gnat. But maybe that's what you want."
"It is, Briggs. As soon as the Giz-bells reach their population equilibrium and have spread themselves out, I plan on announcing the Dominion of Forbath to the world at large. And I want *you* to prepare a Delegation of Announcement for me." Reverend Forbath then turned to one of the Freeguards who had been standing at attention in a wall nook, near a sconce. "Take this paper, and bring me the representative from the Seminary of Technology and Information." Forbath easily tossed a scroll off of his Whitewood desk (an ancient heirloom from another dimension, or some such thing) as the young guard stepped forward. The Freeguard, relatively used to Reverend Forbath's unceremonial and relaxed behaviour managed to intercept the paper with little or no effort, and wheeled from the room after giving the Nod of Respect.
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The Freeguard re-entered the Reverend's stark, broad office a few minutes later via some thickly inset wooden doors, trailing a young man who was apparently the representative of the Seminary of Tech and Info. The young man was long-haired with vague hints of wire spectacles limning his eyes. He wore the official ST&I garb: A tieless sort of utilitarian suit underneath an open, dark blue robe. With little ceremony, the Freeguard nodded to the guest, Preacher Briggs, and Reverend Forbath, and repaired to his nook. The other, stationary Freeguards remained staring forward from their respective nooks, looking for all the world like colored statues holding up the eight corners of the office.
"Reverend Forbath. Preacher Briggs." The young man made the Nod of Respect to the two elders in turn. He stood waiting, his posture relatively comfortable without displaying any disrespect. The Reverend motioned to a chair similar to the one Briggs was sitting in.
"Have a seat, Seth, and let's get down to it. You've undoubtably brought all relevant information I've asked for. Neither I nor Preacher Briggs needs any more ceremony than we already get day-to-day. " Reverend Forbath said this last bit with a misleadingly dismissive yawn.
"Of course, Reverend. " Seth paused microscopically. He probably had all sorts of agrandizements and pleasantries prepared for this moment, but now he had to skip right over those. Fortunately, he was a quick boy, the top in his field, and had worked with the Reverend before. He jumped right into his presentation, missing nery a beat. Holding his right palm upright and leaning forward in his seat, he adjusted his gossam spectacles with his free hand, then pulled a gray glove half-way up his wrist. He seemed to fiddle with the wrist cuff a bit, where a single fastener resided. At first nothing appeared to happen. Then, nearly untraceable, a tiny white speck materialized above his gray-gloved palm, flitting a bit. Across from Seth, Briggs shifted in his chair just slightly. The Reverend knew that, to the old Preacher, the speck's movement was what made it most visible. But the Reverend himself was a Forbath. That came with certain...priviliges of the biological kind. The entirety of the Forbath family line was thought of as "enhanciles" by technologists like Seth. Which wasn't completely untrue, just inaccurate or understated. Whatever the case, unlike everyone else in the office, the Reverend could see the speck for what it was: A tapered sort of horizontal droplet, lined 'round the center with yellow-and-black triangles, segmented once in that same place, and locomoting with a pair of translucent fairy-wings sprouting from the fatter disk-like end. Recessed into the fatter end, apparently the thing's head, was a single round, black jewel-eye, and below it some microscopic incisors. Above the eye was a set of four lash-like feelers, just as perfectly miniature as everything else on the "speck". Reverend Forbath made a mental note that the thing never blinked as it seemed to look his way. Briggs intruded on the Reverend's personal scrutiny, addressing Seth.
"Is that...is that a Giz-bell? It mustn't be. It must be simulation, right?"
"Oh, no, Preacher Briggs, sir. It's the real thing."
"But, then, however did you contain it? I thought they were susceptible to...I don't know...."
"Yessir, they are nearly always susceptible to alpha waves of a human frequency, and containment as well. They generally break down into generalized proteins and poetic concepts under those two conditions. But this glove I'm wearing is a Wrangling Glove. It's what we'll be using to release this beauty, and any future Builder Giz-Bells from now on out. It serves as a sort of buffer that allows us to handle them."
"How, Seth?" The Reverend chimed in. He had leaned forward, elbows planted on that ancient desk, fingers interlaced and covering half his face in contemplation. The light was low in here, now that the sun had receded completely, and the artificial lighting was purposefully minimal. The Giz-bell seemed to gleam just a smidge. The Reverend Forbath wondered if it had any sort of bio-luminescence.
"Well Reverend, as you know, our bodies have a slight electric field. In a nut-shell, that's what powers the glove. This glove, in turn puts out a 'curtain field' that basically lies to the Giz-bell's senses. The 'curtain field' is a very well contained set of standing waves, projected from emitting threads in the glove, that constantly oscillate and interfere with each other. See, the constant standing waves interferring with each other create a sort of 'sensual flux' that causes the Giz-bell to sort of, um, internalize all feeling. It blocks up from indecision, to anthropomorphize the thing. It can't decide whether to destroy itself, build another of its kind, observe the world around it, or do whatever else it is Giz-bells do."
"All right, I get the concept." Briggs stated plainly. "But, how can that glove get the Giz-bell far enough away from all the alpha brainwaves projected from, say, a city the size of our capitol? The old method, those tubes, may've been impersonal, but they could launch a Builder Giz-bell 30 miles out to sea and away from a large population. "
"That's a good question, Preacher. Basically, the glove has a residual effect that'll last 24 hours or so. You can turn off the curtain field, and sort of 'push' the Giz-bell into its trajectory, where it'll just move of its own volition. And, as you probably know, once a Builder Giz-bell starts moving, it can move a little faster than sound. " Seth allowed himself a satisfactory smile.
Even the unflappable Reverend was taken aback some. "I'll admit that that's pretty impressive, Seth. But I think our major issue with the Giz-bells has more to do with the basics. You know, how they gather information, and transmit it."
"Er, yes, sir. The Giz-bell is still just a tiny, flying camera, or sensation collector. It picks up low-resolution touch, sight, and sound data when in a triangular formation. They still have to triangulate to do that; it's just inherent in them. But, as far as transmitting that data, we've solved the problem of anyone 'eavesdropping' on Giz-bell population arrays. It was just a matter of encryption."
"How so?" Briggs asked.
"Basically, after a Builder duplicates itself exponential into a self-equalizing population of twenty-three million, those twenty-three million change every twenty-four hours. They 'die', but right before they do that, they build another Giz-bell. So the population stays the same. Twenty-three million seems to be the perfect number to a Giz-bell, still don't know why. But they have to maintain communications to maintain equilibrium, as well as to transmit data to outside observers. We've figured out that our picking up of Giz-bell transmissions was just secondary to their transmissions to each other. It was just a side-effect. We now know how to encrypt that side-effect transmission. Giz-bells use something we at the Seminary of Technology and Information call 'vodio' to communicate to us and to each other. 'Vodio' is a certain kind of particle-wave that travels in the interstices of reality. We've been able to break that wave up, with a basic number randomizer, and piece it back together using our two sets of key numbers. Basic encryption, pioneered by many people on many planes. "
"All well and good, but I think the important part is how you break up and piece together the transmission physically in the first place, Seth. I mean, the people my father got the Giz-bell technology from could concievably still have the same keys as us, and decrypt those transmissions. If they had the inclination to do so, and existed in this particular dimension. "
"Well, Reverend, we've changed the keys. And we've broken up the vodio waves in a particularly unique fashion."
Briggs sighed. "You're not talking about that unreliable pipe-dream, are you? What is it called? Quantum mechanics?"
"Er, no, no sir. We're only still theoretical on such small levels, when it comes to raw technology. As you know, with all due respect to the Forbaths' accomplishments, most of our technology is borrowed. And we don't have the resources for any sort of direct 'quantatative' solution, literally speaking. We technologists have decided, instead, to go with a much older and more reliable solution. We're using localized dividing circles along any given vodio path."
Briggs' bushy white eyebrows went up, and he smoothed down his mustache. "Dividing circles." He chuckled, finally. "That's why you technologists have been coming to us old Preachers recently. I never thought I'd see the day when the hard-line science sect of this country would be using, or trusting in the skills of we magi."
"Sir, I personally have always held 'sorcery', as it is called by the cynics in my field, in high regard. The Preachers practice it, as does the Reverend. I look at divination and other magicks as just another form of science."
"As we've been telling you boys over at the Seminary of Tech and Info for years! But, that aside, who'd you go to to get the Giz-bells ensorcelled? The Diablists? The Crowlites down on Parks?" Briggs had taking on the tone of a man talking shop; he was in his element now.
"Actually, we've simply gone to the Preachers on this one. Your well-established art is the most subtle and pragmatic of the divination arts." Seth replied. He was preparing to launch into an unnecesarry explanation of the dividing circles, probably, when the Reverend cut in.
"I hate to be the wet blanket here, but you two can talk shop later. Briggs, do you agree that we can safely deploy that Builder Giz-bell?"
"Yessir," Briggs nodded.
"Good, because I want to get it out there as soon as possible. If you gentlemen will follow me to the roof of this building--we can launch it from here, correct?" The Reverend turned to Seth; all three men were standing now, and an air of excitement was palpable.
"Yes, Reverend Forbath. I calculated a trajectory for a launch off the top of the building, as you requested. I've even incanted my eyewear with all relevant trajectory and elemental reading capabilities."
Reverend Forbath nodded, and led them to an architecturally camoflauged elevator across from his desk. A moment later, the three officials and a handful of Freeguards stood on the vast flat plane that was the rooftop of the Reverendhood Halls. A slight summer breeze carried the scent of local vegetation and undercut the current mugginess of the Cluster region. To their east and south spread out the lights of the City Made of Ashes, and to their north and west lay jungle canopy, then sand, and finally, sea. Braziers containing bioluminescent algae clumps in place of fire had been furnished at the corners and ledges of the broad rooftop. While Seth fiddled with his glove, and Reverend Forbath chatted with a female member of the Freeguard, Briggs removed three small glass containers from the inside of his robe, setting them before him on the roof. He hunkered into a squat that betrayed his customary regalness, and dipped two finger into the first glass container, pinching out some salt. He preceded to draw a perfect circle with the white crystals, and, in turn interlinked two other circles with the first, but this time used the materials from the other two containers. When he was satisfied, Preacher Briggs hoisted himself to his feet with an audible grunt, and pocketed the three containers. He had produced three interlinked circles, each about four feet wide, two of which were white and one of which was red. "A visceral pigment, a dead hard pigment from the sea, and a crystal pigment from the earth." He spoke these words, and they seemed to be carried from his lips by the breeze. He turned to Seth. "Stand in the intersection of these circles, son. They ought to help guarantee your launch."
"Thank you, sir, but I think I was actually going to ask Reverend Forbath if he wanted to launch the Builder Giz-bell himself, instead of me."
Forbath turned away from his conversation with the Freeguard, who dismissed herself to stand watch. "No, no, Seth. I think you should do the launch. It's your baby more than anyone else's. Go ahead." Forbath smiled encouragingly.
"Thank you for the honor, then, sir. Both of you, thank you. Without further ado, then." Seth bowed slightly to the older men, and even to the Freeguards it seemed. He stepped decisively into the center of the circles, and held out his gloved hand. The glove glowed only minorly, but the Giz-bell speck seemed to have increased its radiance as it floated off his palm. All could see a vague distortion of the air around the Wrangling Glove. The Giz-bell bobbed about eight inches over the surface of the glove, and stayed there. Seth adusted his glasses now, which were only evident by this gesture in the nighttime light. Seth flipped his palm outward, fingers up, as if to say 'halt'; the Giz-bell remained at its eight inches relative to the heal of his palm. He pulled back his arm, set one foot in front of the other, twisted a bit, and pushed the gloved palm forward rapidly as if he were throwing a shot-put. Not much changed, but whatever did, it did rapidly. There was no increase in glow, no explosion or other fancy effect. The Giz-bell's faint speck instantly disappeared, though, which was most significant. A moment later, out to the north-west, there was a tiny booming sound, not much more than a pop; As it headed towards the sea, building critical velocity, the tiny Giz-bell was displacing air swiftly. In another moment, there was a series of these miniature sonic booms. Seth waited along with everyone else, with baited breath. Then he lowerd his gloved hand, and stepped out of Briggs' circles. "It worked. Which I knew it would, but it worked even better than I imagined!" Seth was grinning. He removed his glove.
Everyone else was still concentrating on what had just happened, but turned to Seth when he spoke. Forbath began to applaud the young man--not a small compliment from the leader of a nation--and all the Freeguards and Briggs joined him. Reverend Forbath said, "Excellent, Seth, very good. It's already 8 miles-no, ten now-out, closing on the ocean."
Seth's jaw just sort of dropped. "You--You can actually see it still, sir?"
"Oh, yes." Forbath stated matter-of-factly, as if it were a common thing to see that far, and in such detail. To him, of course, it was. "Which means we'll be getting our first real pictures of this world within 72 hours, if I'm not mistaken." He directed his attention to Briggs, who was looking somewhat hagard now. The old Preacher had had a long day, and those last three circles he had enchanted had probably drained him. "Preacher Briggs, go home and get some rest, now. In the morning, begin assembling a Delegation for contact with other societies. I get the feeling that within 72 hours we are going to have first contact with other nations. We need to announce ourselves and make our intents clear to these people when that happens. If it doesn't happen before that, which there is also a very good chance of happening. The Giz-bells are already dividing and increasing in number."
Briggs nodded. "Of course, Reverend Forbath." He turned and patted Seth on the shoulder. "Very good, Seth. I look forward to maintaining a dialogue with you and the Seminary of Tech. Congratulations." He gave the Reverend the Nod of Respect, and boarded the elevator with two of the Freeguards.
The Reverend looked over at Seth, who was fiddling with his spectacles and looking out over the north-west horizon, no doubt trying to gain a sight on the Giz-bells. "Seth, you're dismissed for today. Take a Freeguard,and go home. I want you rested up as well, because as soon as that data starts coming in from the Giz-bell colony, we're going to have to start processing it with one of those Gnon devices. And I know it takes some time to get those calibrated, before and after information starts being broadcast."
"Yessir." Seth said. He was still grinning to himself, lost in reverie. He walked to the elevator with a Freeguard and was gone. The Reverend sighed. He was also tired, after today's proceedings. He walked over to the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the north-west. He peered acrossed jungle lit by stars, acrossed white sand under the moonlight, all the way to the sea where a good number of tiny Giz-bells now frolicked. Of course, they weren't really frolicking. Giz-bells were creatures (or whatever) of singular purpose. As they dipped into the sea, they were no doubt 'fishing' for raw materials with which they would construct more of themselves. Reverend Forbath watched them for a good few minutes, and then entered the elevator himself, trailing the remaining Freeguards.
"Well, there's no going back, now." He said to himself. "Time to prepare for contact."
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Eighty hours later, the Reverend stood at a silica-white podium on a raised platform overlooking a broad promenade. The place was crowded, the citizenry all worked up over this historical occasion. Without wasting any time because my lap-top decided to just 'back-up' and deleted a hell of a lot of writing, the Reverend grinned, looked at the cameras hovering above the crowd, and said "Greetings, nations of the world. I am Reverend Vaseline T. Forbath, sovereign leader of the Dominion of Forbath, a relatively newly formed nation-state. I think you'll find we have a lot to offer. We are now opening up our borders for trade. Operators are standing by!" He proceeded to abruptly sweep from the platform, trailing an entourage of Freeguards. The crowd of commoners was laughing uproariously, while one of the self-important officials still occupying the chairs behind the podium had tried to get to her feet and fainted. Most the other officious diplomats on the platform milled about in stunned indecision.
Marching behind Reverend Forbath, Preacher Briggs muttered, "Good lord, that was short." The Freeguard blazed a trail through the crowd. Looking behind him at Briggs, Forbath said, "Well, that wasn't the important part. The important parts come when the other nations actually start talking to us. Right now, we need to focus on prepping your commitee of diplomats, half of which have passed out back there, if I'm not mistaken. Find new, fresh-thinking people, Briggs, not your starched-shirt buddies." He jerked a thumb back towards the platform.
"Er... Yessir, Reverend Forbath." Briggs looked a bit sullen as their group reached the Reverend's coach.
"Oh, don't look so down. I wanted to know how those diplomats of yours would handle the unexpected, and I think we found that out today." He poked his head into the coach. "How's it going, Seth? What's the word?"
Seth Lam was sitting in the Reverend's plush coach, fiddling with what looked like a keyboard folded into a cube. He turned towards the older men as they entered the vehicle. "It went well, Reverend. According to all the constant data from our Giz-bell colony stretched acrossed the globe, there's no way no nation just heard your wonderfully succinct speech, sir. We broadcast using good ol' fashioned radio waves, on various frequencies and bandwidths. That should reach most the nations out there. I'm boosting the broadcast now."
Reverend Forbath grinned at Briggs. "Nothing to worry about, Briggs. See? Seth's got everything under control."
"Yessir. What now, though?" Briggs asked, matter-of-factly.
"Now? Now we play the waiting game, my good Preacher."
[OOC: Holy crap, that was a lot of writing. Okay, enough self-involvement. Time to self-involve others. Heh-heh. Anyone interested in recognizing the official NationState of the Dominion of Forbath can post, or whatever. Anyone who wants to open trade, or role-play in another fashion go ahead and post, but post OOC if you can so I know your intent. You can also contact me at coelophid@yahoo.com, or TG me. I am open to both MT and FT; the Dominion of Forbath obviously has a sort "WT" (Wierd-tech). Some of it will be more advanced than modern tech, some of it will be less advanced. As I indicated in the two IC posts, they have "borrowed" most of their technology, and probably have a better grasp of magic practices than, say, traditional tech. They're still learning the tech they've gotten from other peoples, because they haven't developed it themselves. Of course, they do have some inventions of their own, but these are few and far between. Anyhoo, go ahead and post.]
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"Forbath Begins"
The Reverend Vaseline Forbath peered out the largest viewing window in his office, which, incidentally, was the largest viewing window in the entirety of this city. Tiered down and away from his vantage point, the City Made of Ashes radiated out like some obsessive Euclidian architect's idea of a giant flower. All pink and aglow in the twilight, most the buildings were poured and polished from that rich quartz-concrete the Reverend's father had traded secrets for in some other plane. This young metropolis was the capitol of the Dominion of Forbath, inset amongst the vast wierd "sand-and-jungles" of the Cluster. It was so austere, so minimal, and so squarely geometric. And yet it managed to be so very detailed, the Reverend mused. The City Made of Ashes was a misnomer, he knew, given by his dark-minded father who had established the place. Right now, as the sun nestled itself into the horizon, the capitol looked more like "The City Made of Pink And White Fire-cubes". "I'll rename it," he chuckled to himself. Of course he would never do such a thing. That name was an ancient tradition, even if the city itself was barely over the hundred-and-fifty year mark. The Dominion of Forbath had arrived in the Cluster a little over two-hundred years ago, a motley band of pan-dimensional refugees. As soon as they had set foot, they had began turf wars with the indigents, all in the name of gestaldt ideals, and all because of the commands of the current Reverend's father, the late great Aninnaias Forbath. Aninnaias Forbath had warred with the natives for fifty years before establishing a capitol and letting his flock rest, and that was merely a brief respite--After laying the foundations, they started up again three years later. Perhaps appropriately, one year after the wars began again Reverend Aninnaias Forbath had died of old age (three-hundred and thirty-six), and the Reverendhood had passed to his eldest son, Vaseline Forbath. The Reverendhood was the highest political office in the land, and the only one that was officially inherited. Everyone else was appointed. Reverend Vaseline Forbath had spent the last century-and-a-half making peace with the Cluster natives and waiting for his father's old sympathizers to die and shut up. Now, finally, that whole ordeal seemed to be nearing a resolution. The Preacher's Seminary, a collection of the Dominon's appointed administrators, was completely rid of the previous Reverend's advisors, save one: The only one of his father's advisors that Reverend Vaseline Forbath trusted.
Preacher Briggs swept into the office of the Reverend, brandishing about some legislative scrolls as if they were either on fire, or made of solid gold. Reverend Forbath knew that, while Briggs was a good man, and an active one, he floated somewhere between an old traditionalist's near-fascist conservatism, and a new, libertarian sort of idealism. Once in a while, the Reverend imagined he could literally see Briggs' mind kick off from one mental wall and rebound back and forth between the two, until Briggs was nearly catatonic from indecision and internal struggle. Aside from that major flaw, Briggs was usually quick to action, making the right decisions and sometimes showing more wisdom than even the Reverend himself. So the Reverend Vaseline Forbath relied on Preacher Briggs, and always tried to keep him decisive.
Briggs was pacing, his political robes whirling about. By now, the couple of young Freeguards who had escorted him in had taken up their places in wall nooks around the office of the Reverend. From there, they were swiftly mesmorized by the Preacher's agitation despite their training. "I don't like it, sir," Preacher Briggs began.
"What don't you like, Preacher?" Reverend Forbath asked calmly. "Pacing about and irritating your Reverend?"
"Oh, right. Right, sorry, Reverend Forbath." Briggs plopped down in an antique armchair, his cheeks reddening slightly around his white mustache. "What I mean to say, sir, is that I don't like the way these indigents are so damned hard to pin down on any issue."
"What, are they still nervous of us? I thought we put that issue to bed, Briggs."
"Yes, sir, we did. They're no more nervous of us than they could ever be since your pre--er, since the wars ended. What I mean is, it's extremely difficult to get them to commit to anything on paper. I'm not complaining, mind you, I just don't like it."
Reverend Forbath smiled a bit at this contradiction, his mouth abandoning its usual non-commital, straight line expression. "Well, that's fine, Briggs. I wouldn't worry about it, right? Remember, I told you that these natives are much more verbally-oriented. They just don't like a lot of paper-work". As an aside, he half-muttered, "The Dominion could really take a clue from them on that."
"Yes, sir." Briggs said automatically.
"So, what's the news, then, Briggs?" the Reverend prodded.
"Well, at the end of the day, our delegation has agreed that the so-called natives recognize our territory as ours, and are willing to move from the tentative cease fire to a more established form of...coexistence. However...." Here, Briggs sort of trailed off.
" 'However', what, Preacher?"
"However, they will only agree to it if we cease interference with their hool-domph rituals. And they're so scattered and anarchistic that it's hard to say, but I'm pretty damned sure they want your word on it."
"Well, well. That is interesting. Their ideas about our leadership are changing, eh? They seem to understand the significance of the Reverendhood, I'll bet. It's about time."
"But sir, we've not interferred with their sick little fertility rituals in nearly a century!"
"That's true, Briggs. But they've never gotten my word that we won't start back up any time we want, either. Now that we've been sending them Delegations, they seem to grasp our politics a little better. Wanting a guarantee is understandable."
"Reverend, did you plan on this? Letting those primitives know how the Dominion of Forbath really works?" Preacher Briggs had turned a bit white.
"Well, it's not as if it's a big secret, Briggs."
"Sir. With all due respect, your father spent his entire time in the Cluster making sure that we, our government, was inscrutable to these indigents."
"That's true. He also spent fifty years at war with them. Both of us were there when that went down. Don't you think absorption would be a much better victory?"
"Er, absorption, sir? Wait, you don't mean--"
"Yeah. Cultural assimilation."
"Reverend, they are perverts!"
"That's relative, Briggs."
"They fornicate-with frui--"
"To each his own, Briggs."
"But--"
"Don't worry, my good Preacher. I've made many a contigency. I'll even show you the societal planning diagrams, if you want. The indigents of the Cluster won't be passing off their cultural ideals to us, rest assured. We need some new blood after that war, Briggs."
"Yessir. I just--I guess I'm not really used to this."
"I know, Briggs. Even after one-hundred and fifty years, you're not really used to me. That's one of the reasons I keep you around, though. You reflect a part of my father's ideals, our old ideals." The Reverend smiled laconically. Briggs allowed himself an uncommon, relatively natural smile in turn.
"Well, sir, there're things an old dog just can't adjust to, I'm afraid." This was as close to joking with the Reverend that Briggs would ever get. There was a brief loll in the conversation, which was awkward for Briggs. The Reverend Forbath, on the other hand, never really felt awkward. Ever.
Forbath finally said, "So, it's decided: I will speak personally with the indigents, as soon as possible. We don't need to get into a pissing war with these savages again. And, seeing as that issue seems resolved, I think it's time to implement something a little more...large-scale."
"What did you have in mind, Reverend?" Briggs was sitting forward in his chair. He had been preparing to excuse himself, but now began to sit back again. The man was a bit older than Reverend Forbath, and, while he had obtained the Longevity and was still in very good health, Forbath had noticed that he seemed to tire more easily lately. No matter.
"I've been looking over some data from the Seminary of Technology and Information. I've also been checking up on our black-market information trade, and our mining activity as of late. I've come to two conclusions: One, that the Dominion of Forbath is supremely isolated and out of the loop regarding the world at large; It is like a hen wandering around a fox's den, and there are hungry, angry kits out there. Or some such quaint metaphor. Two, that we have enough resources now to produce a Builder Giz-bell. That will remove our blind-fold, I think."
"You mean, sir, that we have enough resources to support a population of twenty-three million toothsome little brainy things flying all over the globe?"
"Well, only the Builders are particularly intelligent, and they die within 72 hours, as soon as they've increased exponentially to that magic number of 23 million you just mentioned."
"Sir, you know that a number like that will possibly attract attention to us, even if a Giz-bell is only the size of a gnat. But maybe that's what you want."
"It is, Briggs. As soon as the Giz-bells reach their population equilibrium and have spread themselves out, I plan on announcing the Dominion of Forbath to the world at large. And I want *you* to prepare a Delegation of Announcement for me." Reverend Forbath then turned to one of the Freeguards who had been standing at attention in a wall nook, near a sconce. "Take this paper, and bring me the representative from the Seminary of Technology and Information." Forbath easily tossed a scroll off of his Whitewood desk (an ancient heirloom from another dimension, or some such thing) as the young guard stepped forward. The Freeguard, relatively used to Reverend Forbath's unceremonial and relaxed behaviour managed to intercept the paper with little or no effort, and wheeled from the room after giving the Nod of Respect.
_________________
The Freeguard re-entered the Reverend's stark, broad office a few minutes later via some thickly inset wooden doors, trailing a young man who was apparently the representative of the Seminary of Tech and Info. The young man was long-haired with vague hints of wire spectacles limning his eyes. He wore the official ST&I garb: A tieless sort of utilitarian suit underneath an open, dark blue robe. With little ceremony, the Freeguard nodded to the guest, Preacher Briggs, and Reverend Forbath, and repaired to his nook. The other, stationary Freeguards remained staring forward from their respective nooks, looking for all the world like colored statues holding up the eight corners of the office.
"Reverend Forbath. Preacher Briggs." The young man made the Nod of Respect to the two elders in turn. He stood waiting, his posture relatively comfortable without displaying any disrespect. The Reverend motioned to a chair similar to the one Briggs was sitting in.
"Have a seat, Seth, and let's get down to it. You've undoubtably brought all relevant information I've asked for. Neither I nor Preacher Briggs needs any more ceremony than we already get day-to-day. " Reverend Forbath said this last bit with a misleadingly dismissive yawn.
"Of course, Reverend. " Seth paused microscopically. He probably had all sorts of agrandizements and pleasantries prepared for this moment, but now he had to skip right over those. Fortunately, he was a quick boy, the top in his field, and had worked with the Reverend before. He jumped right into his presentation, missing nery a beat. Holding his right palm upright and leaning forward in his seat, he adjusted his gossam spectacles with his free hand, then pulled a gray glove half-way up his wrist. He seemed to fiddle with the wrist cuff a bit, where a single fastener resided. At first nothing appeared to happen. Then, nearly untraceable, a tiny white speck materialized above his gray-gloved palm, flitting a bit. Across from Seth, Briggs shifted in his chair just slightly. The Reverend knew that, to the old Preacher, the speck's movement was what made it most visible. But the Reverend himself was a Forbath. That came with certain...priviliges of the biological kind. The entirety of the Forbath family line was thought of as "enhanciles" by technologists like Seth. Which wasn't completely untrue, just inaccurate or understated. Whatever the case, unlike everyone else in the office, the Reverend could see the speck for what it was: A tapered sort of horizontal droplet, lined 'round the center with yellow-and-black triangles, segmented once in that same place, and locomoting with a pair of translucent fairy-wings sprouting from the fatter disk-like end. Recessed into the fatter end, apparently the thing's head, was a single round, black jewel-eye, and below it some microscopic incisors. Above the eye was a set of four lash-like feelers, just as perfectly miniature as everything else on the "speck". Reverend Forbath made a mental note that the thing never blinked as it seemed to look his way. Briggs intruded on the Reverend's personal scrutiny, addressing Seth.
"Is that...is that a Giz-bell? It mustn't be. It must be simulation, right?"
"Oh, no, Preacher Briggs, sir. It's the real thing."
"But, then, however did you contain it? I thought they were susceptible to...I don't know...."
"Yessir, they are nearly always susceptible to alpha waves of a human frequency, and containment as well. They generally break down into generalized proteins and poetic concepts under those two conditions. But this glove I'm wearing is a Wrangling Glove. It's what we'll be using to release this beauty, and any future Builder Giz-Bells from now on out. It serves as a sort of buffer that allows us to handle them."
"How, Seth?" The Reverend chimed in. He had leaned forward, elbows planted on that ancient desk, fingers interlaced and covering half his face in contemplation. The light was low in here, now that the sun had receded completely, and the artificial lighting was purposefully minimal. The Giz-bell seemed to gleam just a smidge. The Reverend Forbath wondered if it had any sort of bio-luminescence.
"Well Reverend, as you know, our bodies have a slight electric field. In a nut-shell, that's what powers the glove. This glove, in turn puts out a 'curtain field' that basically lies to the Giz-bell's senses. The 'curtain field' is a very well contained set of standing waves, projected from emitting threads in the glove, that constantly oscillate and interfere with each other. See, the constant standing waves interferring with each other create a sort of 'sensual flux' that causes the Giz-bell to sort of, um, internalize all feeling. It blocks up from indecision, to anthropomorphize the thing. It can't decide whether to destroy itself, build another of its kind, observe the world around it, or do whatever else it is Giz-bells do."
"All right, I get the concept." Briggs stated plainly. "But, how can that glove get the Giz-bell far enough away from all the alpha brainwaves projected from, say, a city the size of our capitol? The old method, those tubes, may've been impersonal, but they could launch a Builder Giz-bell 30 miles out to sea and away from a large population. "
"That's a good question, Preacher. Basically, the glove has a residual effect that'll last 24 hours or so. You can turn off the curtain field, and sort of 'push' the Giz-bell into its trajectory, where it'll just move of its own volition. And, as you probably know, once a Builder Giz-bell starts moving, it can move a little faster than sound. " Seth allowed himself a satisfactory smile.
Even the unflappable Reverend was taken aback some. "I'll admit that that's pretty impressive, Seth. But I think our major issue with the Giz-bells has more to do with the basics. You know, how they gather information, and transmit it."
"Er, yes, sir. The Giz-bell is still just a tiny, flying camera, or sensation collector. It picks up low-resolution touch, sight, and sound data when in a triangular formation. They still have to triangulate to do that; it's just inherent in them. But, as far as transmitting that data, we've solved the problem of anyone 'eavesdropping' on Giz-bell population arrays. It was just a matter of encryption."
"How so?" Briggs asked.
"Basically, after a Builder duplicates itself exponential into a self-equalizing population of twenty-three million, those twenty-three million change every twenty-four hours. They 'die', but right before they do that, they build another Giz-bell. So the population stays the same. Twenty-three million seems to be the perfect number to a Giz-bell, still don't know why. But they have to maintain communications to maintain equilibrium, as well as to transmit data to outside observers. We've figured out that our picking up of Giz-bell transmissions was just secondary to their transmissions to each other. It was just a side-effect. We now know how to encrypt that side-effect transmission. Giz-bells use something we at the Seminary of Technology and Information call 'vodio' to communicate to us and to each other. 'Vodio' is a certain kind of particle-wave that travels in the interstices of reality. We've been able to break that wave up, with a basic number randomizer, and piece it back together using our two sets of key numbers. Basic encryption, pioneered by many people on many planes. "
"All well and good, but I think the important part is how you break up and piece together the transmission physically in the first place, Seth. I mean, the people my father got the Giz-bell technology from could concievably still have the same keys as us, and decrypt those transmissions. If they had the inclination to do so, and existed in this particular dimension. "
"Well, Reverend, we've changed the keys. And we've broken up the vodio waves in a particularly unique fashion."
Briggs sighed. "You're not talking about that unreliable pipe-dream, are you? What is it called? Quantum mechanics?"
"Er, no, no sir. We're only still theoretical on such small levels, when it comes to raw technology. As you know, with all due respect to the Forbaths' accomplishments, most of our technology is borrowed. And we don't have the resources for any sort of direct 'quantatative' solution, literally speaking. We technologists have decided, instead, to go with a much older and more reliable solution. We're using localized dividing circles along any given vodio path."
Briggs' bushy white eyebrows went up, and he smoothed down his mustache. "Dividing circles." He chuckled, finally. "That's why you technologists have been coming to us old Preachers recently. I never thought I'd see the day when the hard-line science sect of this country would be using, or trusting in the skills of we magi."
"Sir, I personally have always held 'sorcery', as it is called by the cynics in my field, in high regard. The Preachers practice it, as does the Reverend. I look at divination and other magicks as just another form of science."
"As we've been telling you boys over at the Seminary of Tech and Info for years! But, that aside, who'd you go to to get the Giz-bells ensorcelled? The Diablists? The Crowlites down on Parks?" Briggs had taking on the tone of a man talking shop; he was in his element now.
"Actually, we've simply gone to the Preachers on this one. Your well-established art is the most subtle and pragmatic of the divination arts." Seth replied. He was preparing to launch into an unnecesarry explanation of the dividing circles, probably, when the Reverend cut in.
"I hate to be the wet blanket here, but you two can talk shop later. Briggs, do you agree that we can safely deploy that Builder Giz-bell?"
"Yessir," Briggs nodded.
"Good, because I want to get it out there as soon as possible. If you gentlemen will follow me to the roof of this building--we can launch it from here, correct?" The Reverend turned to Seth; all three men were standing now, and an air of excitement was palpable.
"Yes, Reverend Forbath. I calculated a trajectory for a launch off the top of the building, as you requested. I've even incanted my eyewear with all relevant trajectory and elemental reading capabilities."
Reverend Forbath nodded, and led them to an architecturally camoflauged elevator across from his desk. A moment later, the three officials and a handful of Freeguards stood on the vast flat plane that was the rooftop of the Reverendhood Halls. A slight summer breeze carried the scent of local vegetation and undercut the current mugginess of the Cluster region. To their east and south spread out the lights of the City Made of Ashes, and to their north and west lay jungle canopy, then sand, and finally, sea. Braziers containing bioluminescent algae clumps in place of fire had been furnished at the corners and ledges of the broad rooftop. While Seth fiddled with his glove, and Reverend Forbath chatted with a female member of the Freeguard, Briggs removed three small glass containers from the inside of his robe, setting them before him on the roof. He hunkered into a squat that betrayed his customary regalness, and dipped two finger into the first glass container, pinching out some salt. He preceded to draw a perfect circle with the white crystals, and, in turn interlinked two other circles with the first, but this time used the materials from the other two containers. When he was satisfied, Preacher Briggs hoisted himself to his feet with an audible grunt, and pocketed the three containers. He had produced three interlinked circles, each about four feet wide, two of which were white and one of which was red. "A visceral pigment, a dead hard pigment from the sea, and a crystal pigment from the earth." He spoke these words, and they seemed to be carried from his lips by the breeze. He turned to Seth. "Stand in the intersection of these circles, son. They ought to help guarantee your launch."
"Thank you, sir, but I think I was actually going to ask Reverend Forbath if he wanted to launch the Builder Giz-bell himself, instead of me."
Forbath turned away from his conversation with the Freeguard, who dismissed herself to stand watch. "No, no, Seth. I think you should do the launch. It's your baby more than anyone else's. Go ahead." Forbath smiled encouragingly.
"Thank you for the honor, then, sir. Both of you, thank you. Without further ado, then." Seth bowed slightly to the older men, and even to the Freeguards it seemed. He stepped decisively into the center of the circles, and held out his gloved hand. The glove glowed only minorly, but the Giz-bell speck seemed to have increased its radiance as it floated off his palm. All could see a vague distortion of the air around the Wrangling Glove. The Giz-bell bobbed about eight inches over the surface of the glove, and stayed there. Seth adusted his glasses now, which were only evident by this gesture in the nighttime light. Seth flipped his palm outward, fingers up, as if to say 'halt'; the Giz-bell remained at its eight inches relative to the heal of his palm. He pulled back his arm, set one foot in front of the other, twisted a bit, and pushed the gloved palm forward rapidly as if he were throwing a shot-put. Not much changed, but whatever did, it did rapidly. There was no increase in glow, no explosion or other fancy effect. The Giz-bell's faint speck instantly disappeared, though, which was most significant. A moment later, out to the north-west, there was a tiny booming sound, not much more than a pop; As it headed towards the sea, building critical velocity, the tiny Giz-bell was displacing air swiftly. In another moment, there was a series of these miniature sonic booms. Seth waited along with everyone else, with baited breath. Then he lowerd his gloved hand, and stepped out of Briggs' circles. "It worked. Which I knew it would, but it worked even better than I imagined!" Seth was grinning. He removed his glove.
Everyone else was still concentrating on what had just happened, but turned to Seth when he spoke. Forbath began to applaud the young man--not a small compliment from the leader of a nation--and all the Freeguards and Briggs joined him. Reverend Forbath said, "Excellent, Seth, very good. It's already 8 miles-no, ten now-out, closing on the ocean."
Seth's jaw just sort of dropped. "You--You can actually see it still, sir?"
"Oh, yes." Forbath stated matter-of-factly, as if it were a common thing to see that far, and in such detail. To him, of course, it was. "Which means we'll be getting our first real pictures of this world within 72 hours, if I'm not mistaken." He directed his attention to Briggs, who was looking somewhat hagard now. The old Preacher had had a long day, and those last three circles he had enchanted had probably drained him. "Preacher Briggs, go home and get some rest, now. In the morning, begin assembling a Delegation for contact with other societies. I get the feeling that within 72 hours we are going to have first contact with other nations. We need to announce ourselves and make our intents clear to these people when that happens. If it doesn't happen before that, which there is also a very good chance of happening. The Giz-bells are already dividing and increasing in number."
Briggs nodded. "Of course, Reverend Forbath." He turned and patted Seth on the shoulder. "Very good, Seth. I look forward to maintaining a dialogue with you and the Seminary of Tech. Congratulations." He gave the Reverend the Nod of Respect, and boarded the elevator with two of the Freeguards.
The Reverend looked over at Seth, who was fiddling with his spectacles and looking out over the north-west horizon, no doubt trying to gain a sight on the Giz-bells. "Seth, you're dismissed for today. Take a Freeguard,and go home. I want you rested up as well, because as soon as that data starts coming in from the Giz-bell colony, we're going to have to start processing it with one of those Gnon devices. And I know it takes some time to get those calibrated, before and after information starts being broadcast."
"Yessir." Seth said. He was still grinning to himself, lost in reverie. He walked to the elevator with a Freeguard and was gone. The Reverend sighed. He was also tired, after today's proceedings. He walked over to the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the north-west. He peered acrossed jungle lit by stars, acrossed white sand under the moonlight, all the way to the sea where a good number of tiny Giz-bells now frolicked. Of course, they weren't really frolicking. Giz-bells were creatures (or whatever) of singular purpose. As they dipped into the sea, they were no doubt 'fishing' for raw materials with which they would construct more of themselves. Reverend Forbath watched them for a good few minutes, and then entered the elevator himself, trailing the remaining Freeguards.
"Well, there's no going back, now." He said to himself. "Time to prepare for contact."
_____________________
Eighty hours later, the Reverend stood at a silica-white podium on a raised platform overlooking a broad promenade. The place was crowded, the citizenry all worked up over this historical occasion. Without wasting any time because my lap-top decided to just 'back-up' and deleted a hell of a lot of writing, the Reverend grinned, looked at the cameras hovering above the crowd, and said "Greetings, nations of the world. I am Reverend Vaseline T. Forbath, sovereign leader of the Dominion of Forbath, a relatively newly formed nation-state. I think you'll find we have a lot to offer. We are now opening up our borders for trade. Operators are standing by!" He proceeded to abruptly sweep from the platform, trailing an entourage of Freeguards. The crowd of commoners was laughing uproariously, while one of the self-important officials still occupying the chairs behind the podium had tried to get to her feet and fainted. Most the other officious diplomats on the platform milled about in stunned indecision.
Marching behind Reverend Forbath, Preacher Briggs muttered, "Good lord, that was short." The Freeguard blazed a trail through the crowd. Looking behind him at Briggs, Forbath said, "Well, that wasn't the important part. The important parts come when the other nations actually start talking to us. Right now, we need to focus on prepping your commitee of diplomats, half of which have passed out back there, if I'm not mistaken. Find new, fresh-thinking people, Briggs, not your starched-shirt buddies." He jerked a thumb back towards the platform.
"Er... Yessir, Reverend Forbath." Briggs looked a bit sullen as their group reached the Reverend's coach.
"Oh, don't look so down. I wanted to know how those diplomats of yours would handle the unexpected, and I think we found that out today." He poked his head into the coach. "How's it going, Seth? What's the word?"
Seth Lam was sitting in the Reverend's plush coach, fiddling with what looked like a keyboard folded into a cube. He turned towards the older men as they entered the vehicle. "It went well, Reverend. According to all the constant data from our Giz-bell colony stretched acrossed the globe, there's no way no nation just heard your wonderfully succinct speech, sir. We broadcast using good ol' fashioned radio waves, on various frequencies and bandwidths. That should reach most the nations out there. I'm boosting the broadcast now."
Reverend Forbath grinned at Briggs. "Nothing to worry about, Briggs. See? Seth's got everything under control."
"Yessir. What now, though?" Briggs asked, matter-of-factly.
"Now? Now we play the waiting game, my good Preacher."
[OOC: Holy crap, that was a lot of writing. Okay, enough self-involvement. Time to self-involve others. Heh-heh. Anyone interested in recognizing the official NationState of the Dominion of Forbath can post, or whatever. Anyone who wants to open trade, or role-play in another fashion go ahead and post, but post OOC if you can so I know your intent. You can also contact me at coelophid@yahoo.com, or TG me. I am open to both MT and FT; the Dominion of Forbath obviously has a sort "WT" (Wierd-tech). Some of it will be more advanced than modern tech, some of it will be less advanced. As I indicated in the two IC posts, they have "borrowed" most of their technology, and probably have a better grasp of magic practices than, say, traditional tech. They're still learning the tech they've gotten from other peoples, because they haven't developed it themselves. Of course, they do have some inventions of their own, but these are few and far between. Anyhoo, go ahead and post.]