The Campaign Builder's Guild

Opus has been something of an unintentional secret for a while now, and I think it's time I finally made an effort to bring it down from the lofty heights of the wiki and onto the more grounded field of the forums. I'll do my best to present things in a coherent manner, but I might reference things I haven't gotten around to explaining yet.

[ic=Opus]...Before the first giant's footsteps shook the earth, before the last dragon's wings stirred the air, there came a traveler from afar, weary and old, old even before the newborn stars lit the inky blackness of the skies. The man sat upon the dusted stones that would soon become the highest mountains and withdrew a massive, curious tome. Its pages were made from the light of ages, torn from the auroras in the skies over distant worlds, impossibly smooth to the touch and always shimmering. Its spine was spun from the fabric of galaxies, woven into an unearthly hardness and bound with the dusty rings of planets. Its cover was laced with the cold, white tails of shooting stars, crafted from the deepest cores of distant worlds and tempered within the fields of falling stars. With a flick of his wrist, he procured a quill, stolen from the fiery plumes of the sun, which he raised into the air and dipped within the darkness of the Great Beyond. And with the blackest of inks on the whitest of pages, the man began his Opus. The first Author was born.

The fae have held humanity in its entropic grasp for too long. The very foundations of the Faerie Realm are shaking, and the wonderment of the lands beyond, the places across horizons and over mountains, under seas and through forests, is growing ever thin. The fae feed on this wonderment, these fantasies that humanity creates for such places before knowing what might be there, and they exist within those chaotic, undisturbed places where the comforting patterns of the human mind have yet to touch.

But the Uprising has begun. And the Faerie Ring grows thin.

The scramble to secure their place in this evolving world has caused the fae and mankind to clash ever more than before, but it is clear that humankind means war. What faeriekind intends, however, is unknown...[/ic]

Opus is a world that was originally designed to take the themes of gaelic folklore and and the "fairytale" and mesh them together. Given that they're already fairly seamless, I added to it a meta-level of design: I made an "Author" of the world. The Author is the writer of the realms who was shrouded in his great Tower, forever scribbling away at the mystic Tome that dictated all that happened, is happening, and will happen.

That changed, or I should say, evolved, rapidly as I went. Opus became a tension between what was real and unreal, the faerie world and the world of humankind. Humankind, once ruled by the fae, became industrial, ravenously expanding creatures bent or eradicating their faerie once-rulers and "taming" the realm of faerie involvement. Faeries, incapable of creativity of their own, feed off of humankind's wonderment and give life to humanity's dreams, wonders, and fears; they see their past actions of managing humankind not as heinous but as essential to their existence. The Author is a product of humankind, an enigmatic god that leveled the field for them. Faeries were incapable of understand that their world was (occasionally) harmful to the minds of men.

So man created the Bastion.

[ic=The Bastion]The world is defined by the Walls humanity has set. To protect them from what's out there, to take back what was once rightfully theirs (or should be), and to expand. The Bastion is a series of Walls, each vaster and stronger than the next, made from the great, ochre-colored stone that so defines the boundaries of humankind's expansion. At the very center of the Bastion's Walls is the Tower of the Author, the god of humankind, who writes everything that occurs within the Bastion and (to a very limited degree) outside of it.

The human mind freezes things into rigid patterns over time; it acts contrary to the minds of the fae - it stifles the very entropic essence that faeries revel in. The Bastion and its echoing ring of Great Walls that circle it help to provide the human overmind, the collective unconscious, with a physical boundary for their thoughts. They need not wonder what lies beyond the horizon, or even know of the land beyond the Walls... such wonderment would strain the human psyche. The Walls serve to ensure that human minds need only concern themselves with what lies within the Walls, not about what's beyond them.[/ic]

(http://images.wikia.com/avatar/images/7/77/Outer_Wall.png)

Shamelessly taken from my favorite TV show, this is what I imagine the Walls of the Bastion might look like, though they likely have more raw, untamed flora growing up along the base of the outermost Wall, holding back the wilder landscapes of the fae. Also, the inside would have more, smaller Walls criss-crossing between them.

Because of the Author's influence, religion and politics were never really separated. In fact, in the language of Bastionites, the two words are indistinguishable. The Author's inability to truly contact or be contacted once he's within his Tower (and locked within, as it is dictated) prevents a clear, acceptable consensus as to what he's writing, what sort of control he has over the realms, and the extent of his power.

Faerie involvement has also had a lasting impact on the social lives of humans, and relics of their maddening civilizations riddle the land.

[ic=Ink]This black, semi-liquid, semi-gaseous resource is what makes magic in Opus possible. Ink by itself hold much power, but needs to be unlocked by arranging it in the proper shape, i.e., a Mathremayan character. Each character, after given the mark of releasing, activates the Ink and sculpts reality to the whim of the lyricist, one who is trained in the Mathremayan art and can unleash the power of the Ink. Faeries are also capable of wielding Ink, and have been doing so for much longer than mankind has. Faeries, however, have stagnated in their Inkwork, and though they display much more potency and power to shape their world to their desires they have little creative ability to do so, relying almost entirely on the ideas of humankind to bring them inspiration.
[/ic]

I think I'll talk about Inkmoths next. Yes, I will indeed.

That's a fine introduction. And a very nice logo! Looking forward to reading more about the Ink.

Fascinating, Weave.  I'm looking forward to more about this world indeed!

Thanks for the kind words, guys. I'll continue today with Inkmoths, the special creatures that are important enough to have a picture in the logo. Also, all credit goes to Sparkletwist for the logo design; she came up with it herself and I thought it was great.

[ic=Inkmoths]Inkmoths are the fabled creatures that seem neither belonging to the fae or to man. Creatures of their own, mysterious design, Inkmoths flutter about the skies in great hive minds, casting illusions across their beautiful wings and in the inky trails they leave behind them. Inkmoths range drastically in size, some as small as a coin, others big enough to be ridden on. An Inkmoth appears as large, purplish moth with black highlights, or (more rarely) jet black with purple highlights. Atop their head they sport two frilled antennae that constantly twitch with the direction of the air, and their eyes are dark, shimmering orbs that glow and flicker with reflected light. Their wings are shimmer with a spectrum of vibrant colors as they move them, and the designs along them constantly swirl and change. Inkmoths have little defense other than to vanish (which they are particularly good at), and are relatively harmless. Though individually animalistic, a hive working together is incredibly smart and capable of diverting prey by casting themselves into shades that blend perfectly with their environment or create the image of a great beast to scare them off.

The Inkmoth is a mystery in the biological chain of animals. It is the only species (as far as any know) to remain untouched by the Author's culling writs (see: Dire Animals*), and though a connection lies between them and the Author, no concrete connections have been drawn. Inkmoths contain the most valuable substance known: Ink. They secrete it when flying and craft marvelous illusions within landscapes: a drove of Inkmoths flying through a barren waste can create a great forest to any caught within the cloud. The fae and the moths have had a strong relationship for as far back as any can remember. They would dance with them, painting symbols in the air around them to conjure powerful effects and craft their phantasmagoric landscapes, but only they held the secret to enthralling the moths... and it's possible even they do not understand how they do it. Humans, on the other hand, have had to resort to more drastic measures to gather their precious Ink: they capture and crush the Inkmoths, releasing the Ink but killing the moth.

Inkmoths bear a collective intelligence, perhaps an evolutionary development to ensure their survival. Alone, they are just like any other animal, but together, they can coordinate flight patterns so complex that it would send lesser minds reeling. Under extreme stress, Inkmoth droves can even simulate invisibility, camouflaging them with the surrounding landscape, even in flight.
An Inkmoth appears as a large, dark purple or black moth, the smallest wingspan being half a foot in length, the largest recorded being nearly 12 feet. On average, an Inkmoth has a 2 foot wingspan. Their wings glitter and seem to shimmer slightly, even at rest, and their small eyes glow a distinct and reflective yellow. No one has ever seen an Inkmoth in its supposed larval state; it is speculated they may not even have one. As far as anyone can tell, Inkmoths by themselves are fascinating but ultimately harmless creatures.
[/ic]

One picture I have for Inkmoths are as such, but with more purplish-blackish wings. Not sure if I want to keep the reddish body, but I like the color a lot.
(http://img840.imageshack.us/img840/1561/cecropia20moth20to20sen.jpg)

Another picture I like is this one. Just picture the wings a jet black or very dark purple with shimmering highlights.
(http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/4490/mothluna.jpg)
Let me know which one you guys enjoy more.

The description given there has changed a bit since I first imagined them, and I'm trying to decide which I prefer. On the one hand, the above description gives them gossamer, dark wings that flicker with color as they move. My other idea was to give them jet black wings with Mathremayan runes (the language used in writing with Ink to create "magic") that might changed or flow as they fly. I don't have a sketch of the latter, but I can't upload it right now, so hopefully in the future I can to show you what I mean.

[ic=Inkmoth Pools]An Inkmoth pool is a term used for wandering into a collection of Inkmoths at rest. The Inkmoths naturally camouflage themselves to create an illusory background, sometimes unknowingly out of place given the surrounding landscape. In such instances, the "pool" is fairly obvious: a tropical cave in the side of a dry, deserted cliff is a tell tale sign of an Inkmoth pool. Venturing into a pool requires a level of willpower, however, as the illusion is powerful enough that it takes a level of mental reasoning to "feel" for the moths. Once a moth is properly discerned and grasped, the whole drove takes to the skies again.[/ic]

*I'll get into more detail with Dire Animals later. I'll explain magic (at least from the human perspective) in the next post.

Quote from: Ghostman
And a very nice logo!

Indeed. I think I remember seeing that on the wiki. It does look great.

MOAR

Now, I'll show you guys some stuff about a practice called "lyricism." Lyricism is the act of writing magic through Ink, and lyricists are the people who are trained to do so. Unlike other forms of magic in different settings, lyricism doesn't take a special "spark" or require someone to be "born with it"; lyricism just involves learning to create meaning behind an alien system of language, one called Mathremayan.

Mathremayan has yet to have a fleshed out wiki page, so there's only so much I've figured out about it. My magic page is also undergoing some serious revamping, and I think I've finally found a method I'm satisfied with. I'll get into that as we go.

First, a bit about Mathremayan. Note that this post illustrates magic from the human perspective; I'll get into the other various perspectives in the future, but right now I've been writing the setting from the perspective of those within the Bastion, and I'm stuck with it until I feel that I'm satisfied with the whole shebang. So, faerie magic and Midvaland (also known as the "Provinces" by Bastionites; it's the land between the Bastion and the Faerie Realms where humans and fae intermingle) magic will have to wait.

[ic=Mathremayan]Mathremayan is the language of the Author, the characters of magic. It involves a series of circles with intersecting lines and symbols that form a visual cue for the universe to interpret and translate into physicality. Mathremayan characters are little understood and the exact definition as to what is a character of the language and what is more complex is hotly disputed. Regardless, the amount of progress humanity has made in defining such a strange language is astounding. Mathremayan, unlike all other known languages, is written in three dimensions.

Mathremayan doesn't read like any other language: it seems to be a metalanguage of everything. It contains characters that overlap one another as well as characters within characters that serve to specify locations and distances from its written origin on the physical plane of existence, as well as other unique details pertaining to its place of writing. The logographic text primarily relies on description and time to conjure effects, and given enough time, a Lyricist can create incredibly complex objects from thin air; such objects don't last long, however, as the impurity of the Ink prevents the creations from holding themselves together.

Humankind also uses lyricism to defend themselves. In the heat of combat, lyricists typically rely on rote spells: practiced characters that come easily and naturally and take little thought. Such spells aren't known for their complexity, but may mean the difference between a narrow escape and death.

Mathremaya cannot be spoken. As far as anyone knows, Mathremayan has never been connected with any sort of pronunciation, though many have tried. Various groups and organizations attribute various sounds and pronunciations to the language, each wildly different than the last, usually in hopes of creating a language that woud be considered iconically "human" (because of their past "enslavement" under the fae, humankind has since held onto the faerie language).

The Mathremayan language has many unique origins, the most recently popular being from the collected pages from the Book of the Author by the Palladium. Even this claim, however, is disputed. Others believe that the fae may have inadvertently released the secrets to humankind many tomes ago, or that Mathremayan comes from the lost city of Corusca, who uncovered the text long ago through their own powerful methods. Many other theories exist.

The name "Mathremayan" comes from an ancient supposition regarding the phonological characteristics of the language, which, although entirely fictitious and based on pure speculation, managed to take hold amongst the populace despite being erroneously created.[/ic]

Truly the name Mathremayan came from the fact that I had, prior to Opus, wanted to make a tropical jungle setting with a rainforest named Mathremaya. I took the images of Mayan designs and enjoyed them, so I picture a lot of Mathremayan in Opus looking like similar designs. I liked the name enough to keep it.

[ic=The Nature of Conjuration]Mathremayan is centered around creating something out of Ink. Be it a knife, wall, tree, boat, castle, or (in the case of faeries) a dream, idea, or feeling, Mathremayan involves the crude mimicry of the Author's power of creation; each thing conjured through lyricism does not have the long-term capabilities to sustain itself like the Author's pure expressions of writing do. It's uncertain as to whether this comes down to a misunderstanding of the language, the inability to filter out every minute impurity in Ink, or something else entirely. Even something as simple as a spoon will eventually rust and deteriorate at an accelerated pace, dissolving into its basic elements. For whatever reason, lyricism doesn't provide the necessary "glue" for Ink-made items to hold themselves together.[/ic]

I put this in because on any level, mechanical or flavor-wise, conjuring things into existence that last indefinitely with no repercussions is a big no-no. I've seen what happens to the economy in 3.5 based on spells that create lasting effects like Wall of Iron and Fabricate. Instead, I imagine people could pay loads of money to get the purest Ink they could and create something that might last a few passings (months), but each thing decays over time.

I'm running out of time to post the next bits (I imagine this to be a fairly lengthy post when I'm through with it), so I'll stop here and come back to it later today when I can.

[ic=Lyricism]A lyricist is a human term for a person trained in the Mathremayan language and the use of Ink. Lyricists wield tall, staff-like implements known as "styluses" that have a sharp point at one end to funnel Ink. The stylus is thus filled with Ink, much like a giant quill, and is angled to the ground where the lyricist can "write" their spells and create effects.

Lyricists tend to be linguistic masters. In order to understand the Mathremayan language used for their spells, lyricists must grasp the parameters of the system they work within and its unique syntactic structure. Two types of studies typically go on within the field of lyricism: Alchemy and Field Practice. Those who practice field lyricism involve studies in aerobic and acrobatic training, athletic practices as well as linguistic prowess and wit-sharpening puzzles, and wear highly functional, tight clothing. These field lyricists are those who wade into unknown territories, defend the streets of cities, and are hired for bodyguards or mercenaries.

Those who show interest in the field of alchemy are quite dissimilar: they involve the much more relaxed but nonetheless mentally rigorous studies in Mathremayan script, keeping themselves to their lofty towers and laboratories, living on grants from the cities to find new and unique spells and conjurations. Alchemists surround themselves in the comfort of their homes to help them attain the right states of mind to engage in intense Mathremayan study, outfitting themselves with soft, sometimes loose clothing, burning incenses, sipping Ink-laced sweetwines, and finding only the right kind of parchment to write out their formulae.[/ic]

I'm going to elaborate more on the practice of lyricism. Here's more on their art:

[ic]Lyricists are the practitioners of a great and fabled art, one often reserved for the most privileged folk of society and insistently taught to the Nobility. Lyricism requires both the mind and the body to be in the most able conditions possible; practicing lyricism requires incredible dexterity, agile footwork, physical and mental flexibility, and a sharp memory, among other basic skills. Mastery of the stylus as both a tool and a weapon is pivotal, and often in the midst of combat it is required of a lyricist to quickly shift between the two seamlessly as she draws her writs across the ground and simultaneously fends off multiple foes. The stylus is taught to be an extension of the lyricist's arm, made from Floatwood to make it light as a feather and yet still as dense as cured wood, tipped with an elaborate steel fountainhead that is capable of dispensing a trail of Ink with the press of a small lever or slashing through armor and flesh.

In Combat

A lyricist is trained to expect the unexpected, and to work in the most heated conditions where stress and duress assail them at every second. To that end, the most battle hardened lyricists rise to the top, managing to keep their cool in combat and perform the necessary writs and scrawls needed to cast a spell. The most important aspect of casting a spell is by etching a circumscript. The circumscript is a circle that surrounds the lyricist, allowing her to write her spells along, within, outside, or across the borders of the circumscript, which establishes the self (as in, the lyricist) in relation to the world, and provides an anchor and direction for the effects to be produced.

The lyricist learns careful and complex footwork (a dance, some might say) as she quickly and meticulously draws her spells along the ground around her feet. Rote spells are learned first and drilled endlessly into the minds of the budding lyricist so that they may call upon them almost reflexively in combat when necessary. More complex spells require more devotion to memory and precision, and, most importantly, more time. As time is of the essence in any conflict, the lyricist learns to manage powerful spells through specialized shortcuts and by writing portions at a time while occasionally interrupting (when necessary) to defend or attack regularly with her stylus before returning to quickly etch a few more marks. Though such a skill takes pages to master, learning to write spells in snippets, even working backwards from the originating circumscript at times, is an essential tool in pulling off complex spells. More complicated spells can be predesigned within the Hub (see below).

Due to the agility needed by the lyricist to pull off her spells and defensive techniques, the apparel of a lyricist must be totally efficient and lightweight. Given the amount of movement a lyricist needs to make in combat also means that their must be no trailing clothes that might get caught in the "dance," and clothes are often skintight and form fitting to the lyricist while still offering as much protection as can be provided.
[/ic]

[ic=Equipment]
Stylus

(http://th00.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2010/211/1/e/spear_concept_by_peterku.jpg)

[ooc]Ignoring the top picture of the double edged spear, this is what I might picture a stylus' tip to look like. I think it would appear a little more similar to a pen's fountainhead, but the divit in the middle of the blade looks like it might store some Ink, so I thought it a good approximation.[/ooc]

A stylus is a long, wooden implement tipped with a metal fountainhead that doubles as both a blade and a spout for Ink. Lyricists typically weave between elaborate slashes at their foes and etching the Mathremayan characters they need upon the ground in a seamless fashion. Because of the agility required to skillfully manipulate a stylus, styli are typically made from Floatwood and weighed down by a steel lining that spans the length of the shaft, providing the appropriate balance for the wielder.

The styli of the lyricist can vary in length, width, size, shape, and overal design to a seemingly infinite degree. Many lyricists swear by a specific type of styli and veer from any other styles, and the balance and feel of the stylus must fit the stature and form of the person. The stylus is, bar none, the most important implement of the lyricist. It allows her to channel her Ink into her spells and inscribe the written spells onto the ground to be cast.
A stylus typically comes designed in a manner that allows for a quick, nigh reflexive grasp of a small level positioned at the level of the dominant hand (almost all styli require two hands) that opens an Ink channel in the chamber of the shaft which allows for the Ink to flow to the tip and thus onto the ground. In order to preserve the firmness and density of the stylus, the chamber is fairly small and thin, capable of holding a surprisingly large amount of Ink but also in need of frequent refills. A small gauge along the side of the stylus allows a lyricist to be fully aware of the amount of Ink her stylus contains at any given time. To refill the Ink (which often occurs mid-combat), the lyricist must reach for any of her supplies of Ink she carries with her and affix it to the top of the stylus with a quick click. The fastening mechanism clamps the bottle to the tip and allows gravity to pour the Ink down the shaft; a special nozzle prevents the Ink from returning to the bottle once it's been poured in.[/ic]


EDIT: I removed the Hub and the Schema from this entry after making some modifications on lyricism.

Am I correct in assuming that the Hub is kind of a new thing? I don't recall it from the last time I delved into Opus, anyway, but maybe I just missed it. The rest of the casting system seems pretty familiar though-- I probably mentioned at the time that I liked it, and I still do. However, I'm not really clear on what a Hub is or what it's for.

Since I know you're basing your crunch on Dresden FATE, I guess I should ask-- I don't want to let crunch interfere too much with fluff, but I wonder if the distinction between what a Stylus is good for and what a Hub is good for is somewhat ike the mechanical distinction between Evocation and Thaumaturgy. That is, a Hub is needed for summoning, conjuration, and those other "Thaumaturgy" tasks. Is that sort of what it is? If not, I guess I still don't understand.

Quote from: sparkletwist
Am I correct in assuming that the Hub is kind of a new thing? I don't recall it from the last time I delved into Opus, anyway, but maybe I just missed it. The rest of the casting system seems pretty familiar though-- I probably mentioned at the time that I liked it, and I still do. However, I'm not really clear on what a Hub is or what it's for.

Since I know you're basing your crunch on Dresden FATE, I guess I should ask-- I don't want to let crunch interfere too much with fluff, but I wonder if the distinction between what a Stylus is good for and what a Hub is good for is somewhat ike the mechanical distinction between Evocation and Thaumaturgy. That is, a Hub is needed for summoning, conjuration, and those other "Thaumaturgy" tasks. Is that sort of what it is? If not, I guess I still don't understand.

Yes, the Hub is a new thing, so I'm glad you brought it up. Technically the Hub has no mechanical impact as far as I'm concerned. To compare it to something else, the Hub is like the "program" lyricists tap into. They alter the code in the Hub (mathremayan runes) much in the same way a game designer might work within a program to create a trigger to have the game, say, spawn ten enemies when a certain button is pressed. The lyricist is the person who organizes those codes (schemas) and then writes the "triggers" on the ground using their stylus. In that sense, the Hub is a personal computer for each lyricist.

Does that make more sense?

I think it does. :)

I guess I was previously under the impression that Lyricists wrote out whatever they wanted to cast directly. Maybe they still do, for simpler things, but, for complex tasks, the Hub seems to be a spellbook, or, more loosely, like a storage vessel for "prepared spells," to put it in (the horror!) Vancian casting terms. They have it ready to go, and use the stylus to trigger it. Is that about right?

So, my question is, how many unique magical effects can go in a Hub? Is it something carried around, or left at a safe location? And, to be blunt, if you don't see it really having any mechanical impact, what does it even add? Why not have Lyricists evoking more spontaneously?

Quote from: sparkletwist
I think it does. :)

I guess I was previously under the impression that Lyricists wrote out whatever they wanted to cast directly. Maybe they still do, for simpler things, but, for complex tasks, the Hub seems to be a spellbook, or, more loosely, like a storage vessel for "prepared spells," to put it in (the horror!) Vancian casting terms. They have it ready to go, and use the stylus to trigger it. Is that about right?

So, my question is, how many unique magical effects can go in a Hub? Is it something carried around, or left at a safe location? And, to be blunt, if you don't see it really having any mechanical impact, what does it even add? Why not have Lyricists evoking more spontaneously?

First off, I don't think I made it clear to everyone else that the system I intend to use for Opus is FATE, particularly the Dresden Files FATE system. As for what sparkle said...

You are right that it seems to duplicate the Vancian system (much to my chagrin), and I've actually wondered if it would be worthwhile to create a list of effects for each lyricist to "cast" from, much like a Vancian system, but I think FATE's looser approach to those sorts of specifics might be dichotomous with this idea.

As to what sorts of magical effects that can be put into a Hub, I'm honestly not sure yet. It's still something I've recently created, so I haven't spent much time expanding upon it just yet. I'd be open for suggestions, but I admit that I hadn't seen it as being magically augmentable.

I appreciate the bluntness :). You bring up a valid point, and my answer to it is that I want it to fit the flavor of life and "magic" inside the Bastion. They like to provide explanations for things and probably rarely (if at all) differentiate between what is magic and what is science. I wanted to give them something that felt like magic but was also backed by something that, although possibly entirely fluff-related, felt more "scientific" and rational, in a weird sort of way. The cool thing about FATE is that it kinda does incorporate mechanics and fluff together fairly well. Having a "cracked hub" could be some sort of consequence or the like.

EDIT: I've also been meaning to update this more and add to it further, but life has gotten in the way a bit. I'll ty to update more when I can!

One thought is that hubs That exist presently are from a bygone period or rumored to originate from the tower rather than be commonly crafted by lyricists. Then they could take on a mystique that revalues them, rather than just be an analogue for spell books. Eh, just /2c

So I fell a little behind with everything that was going on, so now I'll try to continue what I started.

[ic=The Bastion]The nine walls that make up the Bastion, each of them ringing the inner city of Ceylunis like an austere echo, make up the Great Walls that protect and shelter humankind from the fae, cutting them off from the wonderment that fuels faeriekind.

The Walls are massive in size, thousands of feet high and thick enough to house a small village within it, made of thick stone and mortar and brought to fruition by the expeditious workings of the Author. On the outside, the Walls are featureless and perfectly smooth, bearing an auburn orange and cool yellow color, shining against the midday sun and glowing with the shimmering lights of the city in the evening. On the inside, the Walls are honeycombed with hidden passageways, both manmade and accidental, most just below the top of the Wall but some stretching deep below. Older Walls, no longer properly maintained due to the newer Walls encompassing them, are riddled with pipelines that once sluiced Ink across the city, cracked with passageways both large and small, and layered with hovels, some hanging precariously off the side like barnacles to an old hull. Areas of the older Walls might have collapsed by now and made way for streets, trains, or other modern conveniences. The first Wall, the Inner Wall, remains structurally intact and operable to contain that dangers that lurk within the Inner Circle...

The tops of the Walls are laden with cannonades, trebuchets, railgun turrets, and all manner of defenses. At periodic intervals, great towers break the upper path of the circular Walls, providing safe havens for those who are tasked with watching the horizon. Harrowing winds batter the tops of the Walls, and the air is chilled up there even on warm summer days.

The Bastion, as it is called, is a federation of states, each unified under Ceylunis, the great city at its center.[/ic]

The Bastion makes up a third of this setting, Midvaland and the Faerie Realms encompassing the other two thirds, respectively. As such, I'll take some time to go through it all in manageable chunks.

First, let's look at what powers the city.

[ic=Bottled Lightning]
The era of spears and slings is over - the gun, the cannon, and the sword have taken their place, fortified with iron and fire. Pistoleering snipes whip revolvers from their belts and riddle the air with holes while burly mortar men slam fiery craters into the earth between puffs on their cigarillos. Swords have largely been demoted to that of a sidearm, but still hold prominence when push comes to shove. Knights still walk proudly with a cold iron blade in one hand and a silver buckshot in the other, and even the city guards are outfitted with long barreled rifles and shoddy sidearms.

The Bastion has harnessed the power of electricity. Special glass orbs, capable of storing lightning and preserving its qualities over time, generate power at the center of the Ceylunis, the great city. Massive power lines and cables run along the Livespires and crisscross through the air, giving power to lifts, printing presses, street lamps, heating systems, railcars, radios, and a plethora of other systems.

The Author wrote into existence the Flickerstorm, a perfect-condition storm that remains stationary and generates massive amounts of electricity. Airships, equipped with special metal nets bravely sail into the midst of the storm and gather lightning to store inside them, delivering their goods back to the city for power.[/ic]

Next, I'll mention Livespires, which are an important feature of the city.

[ic=Livespires]
The towers that riddle Ceylunis are not manmade constructions; they are the work of natural rock formations that have "grown" out of the ground. Collectively known as Livespires, these towering monoliths of living stone rise from the earth and gradually hollow themselves as they widen at their base and extrude themselves skyward. Like trees, they have a complex "root" system that accounts for their increased stability. These roots function as winding roads along their base, accounting for nearby Livespires and winding around them (it's worth noting that the only roads that directly lead into other 'spires are manmade; a Livespire will not willingly penetrate another). The various roads that wind along the bases of the 'spires eventually merge and overlap, creating a seamless, wide road over time (many streets are notable for their age simply by how large they are and identifying the various, dulled creases where they've intersected and merged with another). Livespires naturally form long, extensive branches that needle skyward before gradually falling over a span of passings under their own weight, connecting with other Livespires and forming elaborate bridges (again, such entryways to and from bridges into adjacent towers must be constructed by hand, as must any and all windows, doors, balconies, and their ilk). Most bridges formed this way make wondrous arches, rarely settling in a perfectly flat manner.

As the Livespire grows taller and its branches settle, it gradually develops support columns within itself that seem to drip down from the ceiling from the inside, eventually making contact with the floor in a process that takes passings. On the outside, the high winds etch elaborate designs into the living stone, carving small holes in weaker, thinner areas and making smooth, flowing designs in areas where the wind is harsh enough to impress upon the maleable "skin" of the Livespire. Livespires will inevitably grow skyward and reach incredible heights, but will eventually topple with age and a lack of ground area to support it. As such, 'spires must be meticulously maintained and kept in check; they may grow slowly (a 'spire may take pages to develop a new level, sometimes a chapter depending on how large the succeeding level is), but new rooms may crop up and branch off the sides of the 'spire in a matter of passings, if not sooner. Parts must routinely be broken off to keep the Livespire in balance.

Due to the constraints this "growing stone" has put on the Author, Livespires are technically living organisms, made much similar to a creeping collective of superdense algae that gather nourishment from rainfall. As the 'spires grow, the periodically develop small basins on their sides to collect water within. At the base of these receptacles, where they connect with the Livespire, are the softest, most maleable spots for the algae, to best absorb the nutrients collected from the rainfall into themselves. Because the Livespires are a collective organism, carving doors and windows into them does not result in any severe pain or destruction of the 'spire, but it does destroy a small portion of the edifice surrounding the frame of said construction, giving each orifice a darker, hardened delineation.

The Livespire, being a living creature, also provides a modicum of warmth within its walls, such that it hasn't fully mitigated the need for central methods of heating but has lessened their inherent necessity, especially during winter passings (it's worth noting that seasonal and temperature changes do little to stall the advances of the algae that make up the tower; they are an excessively hardy organism).

'Spires are also capable of being controlled in their growth, much like a tree can be. By weighing down and pulling on a certain portion of the tower, usually via thick, heavy chains delivered by Airship and anchored to the ground or a nearby tower, the Livespire can be tugged in a certain direction and bend its growth towards the anchors to create artful curves and designs, allowing for unique, sloping towers and masterful maneuvering around preexisting 'Spires in more congested areas. Only the most esteemed architects are allowed to work on such creations.[/ic]

[ic=Ceylunis]Ceylunis is the name of the vast city that encompasses the first 3 Walls (Arcanova, Castadona, and Antium). The city spills partially into the fifth Wall (Cu Espia), but has yet to fully encompass the realm. Fueled by the rampant growth of Livespires, the living towers that branch through the convoluted airways of the upper city, Ceylunis is laden with all manner of people and creature. Homunculi, brought from the Faerie Realms and tamed through the Homuncularium into the compliant creatures that best serve men, cling to the backs of Lyricists and noblemen, groomed into servitude by the powerful writs of the Author.

It is worth noting that though Ceylunis technically encompasses the second, third, and fourth Walls, the first Wall (The Inner Circle) is rarely considered in common conversation.[/ic]

[ic=Arcanova]
I saw a body fall from the heights today. I guess it might be more shocking if it didn't happen so often. They don't keep marks on people around here; anyone that dies, dies, and if they weren't marked, then they were nobody to begin with. Life's tough like that.
- Unknown.

Arcanova is the name of the area between the first Wall and the second Wall. It is the smallest portion of the Known Realm, yet easily the most densely populated. Only about 4 miles across, Arcanova was once home to the highborn elite of humankind, built up as a pinnacle to Ceylunis, the home of the delicate fancies of the rich and famous. After learning of the enigmas of the Inner Circle, however, it was left behind in favor of the third Wall, Castadona, where the majority of the rich and royal now reside.

Tall, living towers, called Livespires, have gone for pages (years) untrimmed and growing, adding more rooms and walkways to themselves, unchecked by trimmers and maintainers. disheveled remains of spires that have grown too tall clog the streets below, making navigation impossible without a skilled guide. Arcanova is in a state of increasing ruin.

Last I saw him, he was signing up for a study by the SciSyn, you know, the point-cloaks? Anyways, I tell him that I'll see him on the other side; people sign up for these things everyday, you know? So tomorrow rolls around and the group of people for the study gets off an airskiff from Castadona right off Howler's Point. Only, he's not on it, and there's no other airskiffs scheduled to come that day. I ask one of the point-cloaks about him, and she just turns to me and says, "He wasn't marked."
- Balin, Arcanovan street peddler.

Arcanova has since been repopulated by the tentative middle-class and, more predominantly, the eager poor, who flocked to its high towers and royal estates, each now in varying degrees of decay and disrepair. The highest towers in Arcanova are walled off at the top, preventing would-be residents from reaching the highest floors to see over the Walls, though many have dared to brave the precarious heights and climb along the sides to reach the old airship gardens and skydocks. Like most richer districts, Arcanova has a colorful palette of variegated rooftops cast in vibrant colors and designs, built upwards rather than outwards thanks to the restrictions of the Walls and the growth of Livespires.

Author-be-kind, those poor, pedantic souls stuck in Arcanova. Such a pity to be so overexposed to the Author, and yet they should be honored to be so close to the man. Shame they've lost their humanity to maintaining the delicate order of the most pointless of things... come to think of it, Malik, see what it costs to have one of them trained and hired as a maidservant.
- Unnamed Charach living in Castadona, to her maidservant.

The lowest levels bask in the shadow of the higher streets and bridges that clutter the firmament, getting their light from burnt out Inkwells and lamplights. Old districts and streets have been buried under the veritable weight of high streets and towers, forgotten and abandoned under the heel of advancement. Some areas have become so cluttered and obscured that no street actually reaches them anymore; the only way to access them to it climb over the rooftops of sneak along the labyrinthine side streets until one finds a wall weak enough to be broken through. Even deeper still are the crumbled wreckages of fallen towers, burying lower districts and trapping them from sight. These are known as the crumblestreets, obscured by the turn of the pages so that only the most perceptive and skilled folks can still navigate them. A good crumblestreet guide is invaluable in Arcanova. What lies beneath Arcanova is anyone's guess, though there have been several excavations made that broke into unwritten districts; treasures lie both above and below in Arcanova, waiting for the brave, if foolish, treasure hunter to excavate or climb to them.

You know, there's a certain beauty to the disheveled; everything's kind of crumbling, and when the rain falls it trickles down the cracks and crevices, echoes around the ruins of the untrimmed livespires, pours off the old, worn statues that no one remembers... I like it.
- Dibs, 8 pages old, street urchin and guide to the crumblestreets.

Some of the rich chose to remain within the limits of Arcanova for whatever reasons, though they are few and far-between. One notable Charach is Ellael Yirrus, who operates the Yirrus Shelter for the poor and homeless and studies the effects of the Author's "order aura" and its effects on people. The closer one gets to the Inner Circle Wall, the stranger things become... buildings and plants are strangely organized in ways that don't mesh with the current infrastructure, objects once more oblong or obtuse in shape are perfectly symmetrical and straight, and the ground is cold, hard, and lifeless; the air stale. Regardless, there are many who cling to the crumbling riches of the great Arcanova.

By the Author, think of the treasures left up there! Listen, Boros, if we can scale the crescent overhang, climb past the shattered panes, leap from the spires of the eroded charach statues, grapple across the point where Stormtower connects with the Kilorav Spire, fight off the ledgewalkers and highdwellers, jump from the - wait, actually, there might be a faster way if we can make the gap from the midsection of Stormtower to Grindlehold's waywatch back when we...
- Norin Olquist, amateur Spire-Scaler to his exasperated Juran confidant and companion, Boros.
[/ic]

More to come on Arcanova.

That's quite a bit of text, but reads easy enough that it's not overwhelming. You've got an excellent idea with the livespires there.

I like the little quotes.
They add a lot of flavor. :D

Quote from: Ghostman
That's quite a bit of text, but reads easy enough that it's not overwhelming. You've got an excellent idea with the livespires there.

They do border a bit on the Wall-o-Text status, but I'm glad to hear it's easy to read. Regarding the Livespires, thanks, I'm glad you enjoy them :).

Quote from: sparkletwist
I like the little quotes.
They add a lot of flavor. :D

Thanks! I decided to add more quotes to things as I update the wiki. I think it helps me just as much as it does any reader get a sense on what life is like.

[ic=Marks]Ceylunis, the great city, also has a system of keeping track of anyone who leaves and enters the city. These are called marks. A mark is a special symbol written in black ink (lowercase "I" here) that essentially act as passports for people to pass not only into and out of the city, but basically anywhere amongst the districts and Walls.

Marks aren't enforced outside of Ceylunis, so they aren't characteristic of the whole Bastion, but a person without a mark in the city is essentially a non-entity; they lose many basic rights if they are unable to produce a valid mark by a certain time. People without marks can be unjustly enlisted into the darker Scientium Syndicate experiments (usually those pertaining to human body manipulation or drug administration tests), can be legally stolen from, and can hold no property of their own. Refugees of the Human-Faerie war must outwardly display their mark for one passing (month) before being allowed to conceal it on their person.

Many unmarked folks exist within Arcanova, the innermost district of the city. There's actually more danger in carrying a mark there than not, since marks are such a hot commodity and prime target for theft.[/ic]

Right now, there are a few groups that are characteristically labeled as "unmarked." They are the Trolls and the Highdwellers. Highdwellers exclusively reside in Arcanova, but Trolls are more common in Castadona, the wall beyond Arcanova.

[ic=Highdwellers]
"Crazy lot, they are. Give em two quick shots to the back of the head, BANG! - that'd teach em. But you can't. They're fast, and their ledgewalkers are always watching us from above, as we walk, as we climb. Little masked bastards, drop down at night like spiders to steal our hard earned food and ransack our cupboards. If I had my way, I'd bring those towers down at their base."
- Fuming Arcanovan shopkeep.

Highdwellers are strange, masked folks who live in the higher spots of the abandoned Livespires. They're referred to as Ledgewalkers, Spiderlings, and Crawlers at times, but Highlanders don't seem to care what they're called, they're content to watch the world below and, on occasion, take what they think should be theirs back to their tall towers.

Highdwellers aren't all that popular amongst the more "grounded" folks of Arcanova, calling them thieves and cowards as they scurry back up the walls with alarming speed. Many believe they worship the ancient Order Spiders (http://www.thecbg.org/wiki/index.php/Order_Spider), trying to make order out of the senselessness that Arcanova is falling to, but those remain only rumors.

"My mum hates the highdwellers... thinks they're a bunch of thieving cowards who got sticky fingers. I always saw them in a different light; I was lost when I was just a girl, no more than 6 pages, and I couldn't find my mum. I cried and cried but people just walked past me and ignored me. Night was coming (you can't see much now, but back then there weren't as many bridges and you could see the sky more clearly), and I got this little tap on the top of my head. I looked up and there's this masked fellow hanging upside down above me with these big goggles with green lenses. He picked me up, darted soundlessly across places I didn't even know could hold the weight of a man, and dropped me off on my mum's doorstep. I would always leave a piece of bread outside my window for them to take, and I still do."
- Calia, Arcanovan shoe peddler.[/ic]

[ic=Trolls]
"The way I see it, we must be kinda brilliant or somethin'. We Trolls just exploit the fact that a lot of people, 'specially the higher-ups who'd afford to have us removed, don't look down all that often."
- Scrapmaster Kirth, notable Troll 'thrupallojist (anthropologist) and experienced Troll scrapper.

The Trolls (not to be confused with actual Trolls located outside the Bastion) are the proverbial urchins of the city. They get their name from their plight: forced to live under bridges and ramps along the Livespires and along the underbelly of railways and overhangs, Trolls live rough lives. Dirty and poor, Trolls cluster in large groups in meager, tiny dwellings that can barely support two people, let alone the five or more that often inhabit them, and feed off of the figurative scraps of the folks living above them, sometimes literally.

Trolls are most common in Castadona. Though many would assume the more unseemly and ruinous Arcanova would harbor the largest Troll population, the fact of the matter is that there's enough living space around that Trolls don't need to occupy their stereotypical under-dwellings. Castadona has the richest population, which means the best scraps can be found left over for Trolls to subsist on. Frequently astonished by what gets thrown down their way, Trolls eagerly gather and make use out of the upper class's garbage.[/ic]

I like these new entries.

The system of marks makes the Bastion a little more oppressive, though. "Papers, please!"

I'm also glad to see that you're putting my contest entry from way back when to good use. :D
Are Highdwellers human?

Quote from: sparkletwist
I like these new entries.

The system of marks makes the Bastion a little more oppressive, though. "Papers, please!"

I'm also glad to see that you're putting my contest entry from way back when to good use. :D
Are Highdwellers human?

I'm happy to be using the Order Spider :). I imagine many people would wear a spider brooch to show their devotion to their "ancestor authors," or something. I wanted to link the actual contest entry, but the post seems to have disappeared...? I couldn't find it, let alone the contest thread.

Highdwellers are human, as far as anyone knows. I picture them as spindly, thin, and highly acrobatic folks who dart along the spires. They speak a language that is eerily familiar but not enough so to glean an outside understanding on what they're saying. It's possibly a very old dialect of the Bastion language (currently unnamed), used before the Author.