Oszeth

Nation Name: The Exiled Nation of Oszeth



Government Type: Anarcho-Kratocracy, Oszeth is lead by the Council of Exiles from their palace in Vax Kaggath. These five councilors achieved their positions through cleverness or force and will continue to rule until they die or are supplanted. While the Council serves the one known as the Shadow King, he is largely absent for most decision-making and serves as Oszeth's figurehead, though they do defer to his rule should he make a decision on something.
The Council of ExilesAlthough the Council governs the land, there are few concrete laws. Everyone is expected to solve disputes on their own, allowing those with the ability to get their way most of the time.

Laws of Oszeth:
Do not interfere with the Shadow King
Do not interfere with the Council of Exiles
Do not interfere with the Shadow's Web

Capital City: Vax Kaggath (The Bleeding City)
Nestled in the southern mountains of the Desert Wastes, Vax Kaggath was built around the entrance to the legendary cavern of the Shadow King. Legend tells of the Oasis he created within, though few other than the King and his Council of Exiles have seen it. The Black Palace of the Council was built around the entrance to protect from those who they deemed unworthy of its contents. Parts of the Oasis have spread outside the cavern to certain areas within the Palace, creating beautifully contained gardens that lend to the belief that the stories are true. The Palace itself is protected by a wall of black marble mined from the surrounding mountains, giving the Palace grounds a hellish appearance from the outside. Outside the wall is the inner city, were more permanent structures are built of black marble, sandstone, and glass. This area houses the estates of the Council outside the Palace, as well as the Capital's barracks and public "court" where executions are held for those who defy one of the few written laws of Oszeth.
Surrounding the inner city is a wall of sandstone with a gate of twisted iron protecting the only road leading in. Flanking the inner city, where the Sandstone wall meets the mountainside are two gargantuan statues of black marble, known as the Guardians of Vax Kaggath. These statues depict two identical soldiers kneeling in the sand, dressed in the chitinous armor of the military, and wielding a long, wicked blade. The Council tells of when the statues were created by the Shadow King as a way of defending the city against would-be attackers from the empire or invasions from the Zitherakk. None know if these stories are credible or not, and most mostly use the statues and the sun's position between them to tell the time.
Outside of the Sandstone wall is a collection of tents, wagons, and huts that make up the Outer City. Some permanent structures have been erected and are defended religiously (such as a small collection of taverns and a shrine or two to the few gods the Oszethites worship).

Resources:
-Quarry: The mountains around Vax Kaggath contain a rare variety of black marble, veined with red. This stone is used in the majority of the nations permanent structures.-Livestock: The Oszethites learned how to care for the Corrathix from the Desert's natives, and they now harvest them for meat and their carapace. The carapace makes a surprisingly good armor that insulates from the desert heat.-Medicinal Crops: The few farm-able crops that have adapted to the Desert Wastes taste terrible, but have been found to have incredible medicinal value.
-Gemstone: Found beneath the city of Vax Nazrix, these purplish black gems have become a subject of research and desire for their beauty and latent magical properties. They have been dubbed the "Black Tear" gemstones.Predominant Races:
Oszeth is a fairly mixed nation, being comprised of the Covenant Empire's exiled criminals. There is a fair mix of humans, elves, dwarves, orcs and a number of half-breeds between the four races. None are denied entry into Oszeth, but it is a harsh life to those who do make their home here.

Notable Figures of Oszeth

Deities of Oszeth:

Because I like the way CESN put his together, I'm going to do something similar.

Week 1 Events

Week 1: Disaster in the Lower City
Lord Erasthmus Krenn, a short, portly man, stood at the window of his estate, looking off into the distance at the plume of smoke that was climbing into the eastern sky. He had already seen the reports, read over them a few times, and then had a hefty drink. Wiping the sweat from his face, he thought about the ramifications the volcano would have on the families that lived in that portion of the lower city. It sickened him to think of those who may have been harmed by the initial eruption.
He had seen to it already that steps were being taken to evacuate that portion of the city, and to work preventative magics that would steer the smoke and magma from the rest of the citizenry. Many were crying that it was the work of Qhaanh, the great Desert Wyrm, but Erasthmus was much more practical. He knew that the Wastes were dangerous, and that, even here in the mountains, their lives were always one disaster away from being over. No sense in bringing gods into the equation. They had enough to worry about.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but he didn’t have to turn around. "Is it done then? Did they agree to convene?" he calls out to the source
"Yes," he heard. Lady Salindra stalked forward, her steps making little noise, even on the polished marble of Erasthmus’s study. "But they aren’t happy about it." Her voice slithered through his head, like a snake burrowing into the sand. It unnerved him, even frightened him, but he kept it to himself. Weakness was not tolerated in Vax Kaggath, especially from a member of the Council of Exiles.
"Let us be off then," he said, turning to allow her to lead him to the Council chamber.

The Black Palace of Vax Kaggath was a work of art, though the impression it left was not one of wonder, but terror. Standing out over the city, the black marble it was constructed of made the whole thing look like a series of dark, bleeding splinters jutting from the sand. Mainly built with magic, it stood taller than anything around it, except perhaps the mountains that loomed in the sky behind it. The Council Chamber stood in the heart of the Palace, a circular chamber with five thrones orbiting each other. A small alcove was carved into the rock 20 feet above the chamber itself. Said to house a throne for the Shadow King, should he ever decide to take part in the proceedings.
Erasthmus entered behind Salindra, feeling as though he looked clumsy beside her lithe, calculated movements. She strode across the chamber, taking her place in the dark throne directly below the King’s, as she always did. The others turned to look at Erasthmus as he climbed into his seat, a mixture of emotions on their faces.
A bony woman, Lady Alsobeth, was the first to break the silence. "So, Krenn. How do you plan to drain my coffers this time?" she said with disdain. Her body and her voice spoke of youth and beauty, but her time on the council dwarfed that of even Erasthmus’s considerable 30 years.
"Your coffers?" another spoke. His already dark armor was smeared with soot and sand, impressing upon Erasthmus that he had accompanied his troops to help in the disaster. Mordith Pikara had been on the council longer than all but Lady Salindra, and being of elven descent, would likely be in his position by the time they all laid in the earth. "The treasures of Vax Kaggath are not yours to spend on yourself, Alsobeth."
"Figure of speech, Pikara." She waves him off.
Erasthmus takes a deep breath, before speaking. "I believe you are all aware of the situation in the Lower City." He says, looking around to his fellow councilors.
"Aware?!" Shouted a deep voice to his left. The hulking form of Councilor Vorkesh made his throne seem too small for him. Even for those with Orcish blood, he was a large and imposing figure. "I lost a large chunk of my quarry workers to the volcano! I am as aware of the situation as one can get."
Erasthmus nodded solemnly. It was brought to his attention that the eruption had began in one of Vorkesh’s marble quarries. The initial casualties were his, though the smoke and magma that followed also decimated a large portion of the surrounding homes. He also knew that Vorkesh did not care for the lives lost, but for the loss of productivity that the city faced with this development.
"Right." Erasthmus continued, "The volcano beneath the quarry presents a few challenges with the continuation of expansion and development within the city." He did his best not to cringe at the Orc’s exasperated groan. "A number of workers and civilians have been forced to move closer to the city, creating an issue with the amount of space we have available and the cleanliness of the city as a whole."
"What should we care what happens to those dregs?" Alsobeth asks.
"We should care, because the strain may cause unrest within the populace." Erasthmus chides. He hated these meetings. His fellow council members could be so blind to anything that did not bring them more power. "Should the people become too unruly, they could revolt, causing more destruction that might potentially make it into the Inner City. Now may I please get to my point?"
She sniffs indignantly but concedes.
"My plan to combat this has two facets to it. First, we need to deal with the congestion issue faced within the Lower City. I think we need to divert some of our funding into the development of higher quality housing." He holds up a hand to cut off Alsobeth’s rebuttal. "Let’s face it. Allowing the commoners to house themselves in broken down wagons and tents can only get us so far. We can create some simple, multi-leveled houses with cheap sandstone to get a majority off the streets. Not only does this create a more unified city structure, but we can get more people into a smaller space." He looks to Mordith, who is leaning back in his throne, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of the idea.
"If we design the buildings effectively, the streets would be much easier to move troops through if necessary." Erasthmus offers him, to which he nods as if he had already thought of that point. "And, with more people in the city, we have a much higher pool of candidates to conscript," he says, then looks to Vorkesh. "or to bring into the workforce." Vorkesh’s face belies that he is also deep in thought.
"The other facet to my plan is to utilize the force that we have unleashed from below." The councilors snap out of their collective reverie to stare in confusion at Erasthmus. He smiles internally, knowing that he had their full attention now. "While the appearance of volcanic activity was not expected nor intentional, I believe that we can use it to our advantage and launch ourselves into a new era of productivity. Think about it. We have uncovered a large, perpetually burning furnace that requires nothing from us. We know already that the Corrathix’s hide is resistant to heat. We use it already to protect our soldiers."
He pulls a notebook from his coat, producing a few pages with designs and plans scrawled over them. "If we can harness this resistance, even enhance it with some clever enchantments, we could produce a small workforce that can work directly with the molten rock." He passes the pages to a servant standing beside him, who proceeds to go around the room to show each councilor. "As for the quarry. I believe we should convert it into a forge unlike any of us have seen. Let us surround and contain the volcano and use it for our benefit. We can ventilate the gasses it emits and let it escape far from our citizens. We can use the heat to smelt our metal and forge it with magic to capture the heat of the earth within."
Wicked smirks and pleased smiles grow on the faces of each of the councilors, all except Salindra, whose porcelain mask hides her true expression.
"I take it we are in agreement?"

A few hours are spent in discussion as to the exact measure to be taken in both parts of Erasthmus's plan, but the decision remains to go along with it, for now. Erasthmus, feeling rather pleased with himself, begins to leave his chair as the others prepare to leave as well. A quiet cough stops them all in their tracks before they can get far, however. Salindra remains seated patiently, facing them all. "We are not quite finished," she tells them smoothly.
They all bashfully return to their seats, not taking their eyes off the strange masked woman. "There is one more matter that need be discussed," she informs them. "My agents have informed me of a rather unfortunate visitor within the city. A holy man, preaching goodness and law to any who will listen, which are very few." Her annunciation of those two words speaks wonders as to her true feelings on the concepts.
She sits forward slightly in her chair, folding her hands in front of her. "I have instructed a few agents to… deal with the man. The only report that I have gotten back was from an agent who was beaten close to death. It seems our problem is a little more complicated than I first assumed. The man is a Paladin."

Week 1: The Spider's Web
The haphazard streets of the Lower City were unusually quiet. The harsh sun was hanging low in the sky and a lone man was making his way back to one of the few inns the city seemed to possess. Covered in soot and sand, he was leaving an area wrought with disaster, as a long-dormant volcano had erupted earlier in the week. Many were still struggling to find shelter and aid in a place where it was every man for himself. The military had stepped in to aid in the evacuation, but they seemed more intent on minimizing the spread of the damage than helping anyone.
Even though he was bone-tired and ready to collapse, he kept a hand on the hilt of his sword and his eyes peered alertly from the depths of the fabric which wrapped his face to protect from the sun. The city itself seemed poised like a predator, ready to strike him down at the first sign of weakness, but he was able to find his way to the inn. The sign of the inn had long since broken off its hinges, though those who had been around long enough knew it as the "Last Stop Inn."
The man, Allisande Dawnshield, relaxed as he was bathed in the warm light from within. Everywhere else in the city seemed to be filled to the brim with lawless heathens, but the proprietor of the Inn was a stout, brash, dwarven woman who protected the establishment with a stern eye and a large cudgel on her hip. Her adopted son, a brutish but kind-hearted human who could put an orc to shame with his size, also helped her keep the riffraff and violence at bay. It was a welcome oasis of peace within the city.
Taking off his head wrap, Allisande shook the sand from his long blonde hair and scraggly beard, which he would swear up and down he didn’t have before arriving in Vax Kaggath. It was easy to tell that Allisande was not a native of Oszeth, nor anywhere in the Desert Wastes. His skin, while tanned, did not yet possess the bronzed look of those who had toiled away under the desert sun. He smiled warmly at Durm, the owner’s son, who responded with a little wave before going back to looking menacing by the door.
Sidling up to the bar on the first floor, he fell onto the stool with a groan, his aching bones needing a stiff drink to help him sleep through the night. A few moments later, the dwarf matron of the inn came out from behind the kitchen door, looking everywhere she could but at Allisande.
"Is everything alright, Ilde," the man asked her, not used to seeing her so beside herself.
Wringing her hands, Ilde finally brought herself to look at him, her eyes wet with tears. "You need to leave," she said, fear quaking in her voice.
Allisande sat up straight on the stool. "Leave? What are you talking about?" he asked with genuine confusion. In the short time he had been in the city, he had thought they had become good friends. She was one of the few who would listen about the teachings of his order, and her and her son seemed to be kindred spirits.
Choking down a sob, she looks at the floor again. "Please. You need to leave. It isn’t safe here…"
"I…" he begins, wanting to argue that he was not in any danger, despite the few attempts of brigands and thieves he had met in the streets. But maybe she was in danger, or her son. "I don’t understand… but I will go." He tells her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder over the bar.
He stands, saying "Let me go gather my things."
"NO!" she shouts, trying to grab him before he can head up the stairs to his room. "Don’t go up there."
After a bit of prying, she informs him of the strange woman who came to the Inn, asking about a holy man within the city. The woman described him in all but name, but Ilde did her best to not reveal that she knew him. It wasn’t until she revealed herself to be a member of the Shadow’s Web that Ilde became aware of how serious the situation was. Under threat of her life, her son’s life, and the continuation of her establishment, she told the woman everything she knew about Allisande.
Allisande was shocked. He had heard of the city’s secret organization but did not understand what they could want with him or how they could inspire so much fear into this woman he had thought to be fearless. Ilde warned him that the woman was up in his room, had been for the last few hours, and she had not seen her come down. The paladin did his best to calm the dwarf, but he had to confront her. No sense in letting the woman’s wrath come down on his friends when it was him that she wanted. Ilde bitterly when back to the kitchen, muttering about fools and death wishes.
Allisande climbed the stairs to his room, blade at the ready. It was as Ilde said, he could see the flickering light of a candle from beneath his shut door. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his gaze and pushed the door open. The room was spacious enough. One bed in the corner, neatly kept as Ilde kept all things. A small writing desk in the corner that Allisande had requested, allowing him to write in his journal and study his prayer book by candlelight. A few changes seem to have been made in his absence, however. His leather sack, containing all of his personal items that did not have a place strapped onto him, was dumped out on his bed, and a small table, flanked by two chairs, from the dining room had been placed in the center of the room atop which was a teapot bubbling on a contained, arcane fire.
The chair closest to the back of the room was taken by a woman clad in leather, the same type of leather he had seen earlier in the week when he was attacked by a group of, what he had presumed, organized thugs. It was becoming clearer to him why he was being asked about, but he had only defended himself from the attacks. The woman’s boots were kicked up on the desk, and she seemed deep in thought as she thumbed through his journal, her face concealed by her deep hood.
She seemed undisturbed as he closed the door gently behind him, being careful to keep his blade between them. Taking a moment to finish whatever page she was on; she closes the book.
"It took you long enough," the woman said, her voice smooth and eloquent, yet oddly grating at the edges of his mind. She continued to look the book over, running her finger along the spine as if it would reveal some hidden title. "Sit." She commanded.
A wave washed over the paladin’s mind as he put a hand on the chair, making to take a seat, but, with a shake of his head, he frees himself from whatever the woman had sent his way. When he does not sit, the woman laughs, a delicate, emotionless laugh. "You do have some spirit, don’t you."
"Who are you? And what do you want with me?" It took a lot to just force those words out. Allisande was a man of faith, and force. He had fought many battles, even against those with arcane might, but the ease with which his mind had been swayed struck his heart with a sliver of fear.
"I could ask you the same… but you seem a stubborn man, so I’ll comply so that this conversation will go somewhere." Her head turns towards him, her face concealed by a white porcelain mask. "My name is Salindra. I am here to ask you a few questions, though I think I’ve found the answers to most of them already." She says waving the journal in front of him. "You’re such a good little boy, aren’t you, keeping all of your secrets down for me."
His face burned with shame, though he couldn’t tell why. He had nothing to hide, especially not in that journal. Why was she making him feel this way? What was wrong with him? Salindra’s strikingly blue eyes pierced into him, seeming to read every minute detail of his face. "Sit." She said again.
He could not help but comply. He sat down across the table from her, still gripping his blade tightly in his fist.
"You’ve been causing a bit of trouble for me lately…" she begins, producing two small porcelain cups and placing them on the table. "You’ve been killing my spies, though, I suppose it can’t be helped. From your journal, it sounds as though you had no idea what you were getting yourself in to." She tells him. She begins to pour a light liquid from the teapot on the table into each cup, pushing one in front of him, and pulling the other towards herself.
With the smell of the brew before him, his mind seems to clear. It was obvious, at least right now, that the woman just wanted information. Fine. He had nothing to hide, and he would not be threatened by her if she tried. He reached deep, remembering the teachings of his order and steeled his mind from her magics. He looked down at the cup, taking it in his hand, but doing nothing with it. She also had not had a drink yet, but, with her mask, it was likely she didn’t plan to.
"If anything, I’m impressed. I train my spies well, and to have, not only one, but a small team bested is nothing short of impressive to me." She looked him up and down. "I could use someone like you." She looked at his cup, and at him, clearly expecting him to drink.
He looked at his cup as well, then back at her. Taking that as a ‘you drink first’ gesture, the woman shrugs. Slowly, she removes the mask. It seemed a trick of the light, but Allisande could swear that the face beneath looked more statuesque than the mask. Her skin was as pale as ivory, and the contrast of her blue eyes made her seem like she wasn’t real. She brought the cup up to her lips, taking a sip as she continued to stare into the Paladin’s soul.
Seeing that the drink was clearly not poisoned, he takes a drink as well. It was a fairly inoffensive drink, though it had an odd flavor that he couldn’t place. The smile in response to his action did not reassure him, but he had satisfied whatever desire within that had wanted him to drink. "So, you are offering me a job, then?" He asks, trying to maintain eye contact with the strange woman.
"Simply put, yes. Though consider it less as an offer, than a sentence." Her lip twitches into a crooked smile. "You are a man of law, yes?"
He nods, though he was growing more concerned by the second.
"Then, by the laws of this land, you are found guilty of the murder of 4 government officials. Your sentence, while normally death, has been lessened. These charges were brought before our illustrious ruler, who has allowed you to make up for this lapse of judgement by serving in the place of those who were killed so senselessly." Salindra’s gaze seemed to deepen in intensity as she continued, like a spider watching with glee as a fly flies deeper into its trap.
"It was my impression," Allisande retorts, "that this land had no laws."
Salindra’s smile drops. "So, you do not accept the King’s mercy, I take it?"
He thinks for a moment. "No. I have seen what passes for order in this land, and what your Shadow King sees as mercy. I will have no part in serving him."
Salindra tuts disapprovingly. The table is gone in a moment, flung across the bed as she draws a dagger, intent on piercing the Paladin’s heart. His blade is up just as quick, swinging before him to block her strike, and leaving a rent in the leather on her arm. A second dagger seems to jump into her hand as she goes for the knee, tearing into the fabric on his leg, but stopping short as it reaches his flesh.
She looks up at him coyly, "So the reports are accurate. Normal weapons don’t work." She seems oddly pleased with the development as she continues to fight, now defensively, as Allisande strikes again and again, testing her defenses. Minutes pass, neither seeming to tire and neither having so much as a scratch on their bodies. At once, Allisande sees an opening, sending both of her daggers flying across the room, though losing his sword in the process. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her to pin her arms to her side.
She struggles for a moment, seeming to take delight in the turn of events. While smiling, her eyes were cold and heartless. She turns in his arms, taking his moment of surprise to plant a kiss on his lips. Letting her go in shock, his whole body reels from some unknown force. His legs give out from under him as his mind goes blank. He collapses in a heap, the last thing he knows being the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

Mordith Pikara loomed over a table within the Palace’s war room, a map of the desert spread out before him. His ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, quiet and precise on the marble floor. "You’re still alive." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did he take the offer? Or did you give him the Dream Weed?"
Salindra stalked up to him, walking around the table to stand on the opposite side of the map. "He was too stubborn, but naive enough to drink the tea. Your catalyst idea worked like a charm as well." She said, her eyes shining with equal amusement from behind her mask. "He didn’t know what hit him."
Mordith chuckled and scratched his chin as he turned his attention back to the map.
Looking over the map, Salindra points to a spot, north-west of Vax Kaggath. "There."
He looks up in confusion. "Why there?"
"If my reports are correct, we will need a vantage point from which to watch for any threats from the north. This is one of the highest peaks around. One well-fortified outpost and we can see them before they get anywhere close to the city."
The elven man nodded solemnly, "I will lead a force there tomorrow. Whenever he is ready, have him bring another force to help secure the area." He looks at her, "When will he be ready?"
"The paladin is with the King now… I don’t imagine he will be far behind you."

Week 2 Events