The First Ages
Then after the Sable glory came The Howling and the rule of the Dragomii. The Sable’sa were now on the receiving end of hate
unlike any other. Driven from their lands and forced into their first home. Corekereckt.
Any hive that was found was razed and inhabitants slaughtered.
As The Grandmother killed The Father, chaos would reign. Bloody years of sheer brutality, pent up rage.
Generational trauma, and the rush of new power followed. Like this, they raged and rampaged for far too long.
Any scribe that attempted recordings of this frenzied excuse of an era was slaughtered. Work only offering
scraps to modern historians.
After the raving tyrant Sharrjararal was slain and the Era Dajirnéconyiierr e’Dajthbràre
(The Overtaking Tide of Blood Dogmatic) came to its much needed end. The dragomii consolidated
in their respective homelands. The dust of world war and slaughter would settle for now.
In thirteen regions did twelve races settle. These locales would later become known as Regions.
Not quite countries, not quite kingdoms, not quite civilized nor untouched wild.
In each region did construction begin. Loose and uncoordinated, these first strongholds, castles, and
keeps have been lost. Not even the foundations stood the test of time. 0.02% of these early settlements
have been estimated to be dredged up and uncovered. Citadels would come next, and they would stand the
test of time. Unlike their simple brethren, the early Citadels were constructed underground. Sprawling
nests of tunnels that protected. Though, due to their uncanny resemblance to Sable’sa hives
(Minus the resin and organic compounds) they were thought as blasphemy. And oft were the target of raids
from other cultures. Leading in the profound result that still holds precedent in the modern day. The doors
open for no one. The doors let no one out. To be let inside a citadel is a preposterous wish. It can happen, yes.
But for you? Keep dreaming.
The First Citadels were akin to living tombs. While all archaeological finds yield nothing but empty hallways and
mummified corpses. There are whispers- rumors… That some of these First Citadels still live. Sequestered far
away under the ground, their gates long fossilized, but inhabitants breathing. But- As topsiders fought and squabbled
with The First Citadels. It quickly became clear something more organized had to come to fruition. The weather
would whip those on the planets surface. Floods cometh to drown, lighting to shatter the sky. And when the ground
began to tremble and rock with terrifying strength. Those topside blamed those beneath the ground. Perpetuating
an irrational hatred for The First Citadels.
The Deal
At the head of the Topsiders Clique was The Pretend Angel. A wanna-be Ars Goetia.
Remiel Helma. The Allstriking Goddess. The Pretend Angel waged war against
The First Citadel’s. A “Dragomii” or something that wore the face of one. A warped Sol-Chroto with
three ears, and three pairs of massive wings. Covered in wretched eyes. Never did her heavenly feet
touch the ground for Remiel Helma was but weightless. Appearing to but not quite walk upon the tips
of her talons. With a wave of the hand Remiel Helma would summon storms and with a crack of the tail
send lightning to hail. Each wingbeat an individual thunderclap almighty.
Remiel Helma oh Remiel Helma- The Pretend Angel cometh from higher sphere. Or so she proclaim.
No one knows where she came from, only that she was but a god. Divine and righteous, and one with a
fetish for souls. In her right hand was clutched a paper, her left hand dipped in blood. With a manic
smile of the one who watches, Remiel Helma bade her worshippers sell themselves to her divine cause.
And those below found a leader too. Oh The Daemon, Na’Sat Calamidy. Large and with a body to
shatter stone and wings of a greasy black. The Daemon was found deep below the ground, for that is all
that is known. Quiet and reserved. Coated in quills blacker than night. Na’Sat Calamidy lead those
beneath to battle up above. It was said that Na’Sat Calamidy saw through The Pretend Angel at first sight.
Knowing of the evil that lurked within her.
Oh Na’Sat Calamidy, The Allshattering Goddess. Oh Na’Sat, who knew of the long game. Perhaps a
theological tyrant, but yet again. What was the other option? The Pretend Angel who wore skulls and
slaughtered all? Who stirred up chaos and believed herself above it all? Those below chose their lord and
she served them well. Oh Na’Sat Calamidy, The Daemon.
It was only as the Sable’sa dared venture out of their home did this infighting cease. Yet
instead of fire and gunpowder the dragomii expected from their arch nemesis. It was an accord.
A deal. And hence concluded the Era Barségö Sthot Kériüngar (The Muddying of The Water Comes to
Change as The Dark of Hunger to Never End)
The Pretend Angel and The Daemon Na’Sat Calamidy together with the most competent amongst them would be
called upon to gather. Three devotees, three of the last Congraastcaspin sable’sa would meet to pass a burden.
The group would withdraw from the mainland and retreat to a fortress somewhere off the coast of modern day
Talsmajir. Conflict between dragomii would die out soon after, each trying to figure out their place in the world.
Within the fort did the Sable’sa inform The Na’sat and The Remiel of impending annihilation. The complete
destruction of all life as they knew it should the Archwyrms awake. Thirteen in total slumbered deep
within the group, thirteen posts were recommended. The Remiel laughed, either not believing the Sable’sa or
not caring. She jeered and taunted the already disrespected sables.
Na’sat was more receptive to the idea. But seemed disinterested. Agreeing to hear them out soon enough. But the
conversation was abruptly cut short via The Remiel Helma killing one of the sable elders. Chaos ensued afterwards
and no motive was given for such savagery. When the dust settled, the gods Ardent and Onyx both were brought to the fort. Against the wishes of the sable elders.
The next year was tense; Relations continued to be strained. Remiel Helma pushing buttons and testing limits. The
captured gods were in full rebellion. Onyx violent spiteful mess, Ardent refusing to talk at all since being
separated from her sister. This hell of a situation reached its climax when Helma killed the last two sable elders. Officially ending the Congraastcaspin race and leaving the twin gods are the only Congraastcaspins left alive.
This could not continue.
And the dragomii watched as the battle of Heaven and Hell commenced. The Pretend Angel pitted against The
Daemon in a fight for the enslaved souls and yet to be enslaved of all dragomii. The title of The First True
Autarch of The Dragomii only a dead god away. Weightless did The Remiel taunt and send down the fury of a thousand storms. The Na’sat and her useless wings
could only dodge as ocean waves crashed against the mountain. Dodging or tanking bolts of lightning as they fell
upon her. Things seemed dire, Heaven was to prevail. But The Na’sat learned of the futility of this battle.
Letting lightning strike she was send to bowing knees. Tongue lolling in an obscene gesture.
Sending victory The Remiel Helma finally “landed”. Circling Calamidy as she monologed and parted the
clouds with a beat of heavenly wings. Letting golden light spill forth onto the scene of a dawning execution.
And as soon as every eye upon The Pretend Angel shut in presumed victory. Did The Daemon lunge and snatch The
Remiel by the tail. Battle with the angel was futile, yes. But Ambush was not.
The Heavyweight Champion proceeded to manhandle the pretender. Swinging that body weightless with the absence
of sin overhead. Slamming her once, twice, thrice. And as The Remiel fought back with all heavenly thunder, wings
beating, tail thrashing, hands clawing– Did Na’sat weather it all and endure. Beating the pretender into the
ground. Splitting rock and shattering bone. With one foot upon the pretenders back, was the angels head ripped
from her body. And presented to the gathered crowd as the last of the storm cleared.
The First True Autarch of The Dragomii had been crowned.
The First Institute of Science
Na’sat Calamidy was an Autarch- A theological tyrant. But not unkind. Nor chained to tradition and
stagnation. Her first action was to commence with a feast. Serving the raw remains of the angel to all
her citizens. All of them, even the trapped gods, take part of this ritualistic feast.
Her second act was to commission The First Institute of Science. The Fort, its sable name: Tàrʐzö-malrnràö,
repurposed for research and design. That name, Tàrʐzö-malrnràö, served two parts. A memory, and the
designation of two main sectors. Talks to rename the fort were ceased as two familiar fiends returned.
Ars and Goetia, together with a cooperative yet hateful hive offer research and manpower as largesse.
Tàrʐzö was managed by Ars, the upper portion of the fortress. And beneath them, in the lower bowels of
the mountain Goetia manned Malrnràö. The Sable Hive enlisted by Ars and Goetia, The Hive of Llacrant,
whilst cold were the first teachers and professors. And forced the newborn Institute to cease its cruelty
towards the sisters immediately. Ending their ongoing abuse but not rescuing them entirely.
Still bound in survivalism they had to participate in research and study. Together with
Hive Llacrant and a few others, they would become the first of the Ancient Architects.
Tàrʐzö-malrnràö while the first institute of science- was not public to those outside its walls. And
given the wide range of completely unethical experiments, unorthodox research, and dangerous projects
going on at the facility. Tàrʐzö-malrnràö was relegated to a black site.
The Autarch needed a capital if she was to maintain control. Following up on that old responsibility the
elders had asked of her, came an infamous paper known as ‘The Wyrm Note’. And thus began the commissioning
of Alabraxia.
The city was a project of intense size. The construction period is unknown for the city is
Old. It did not take a year, a decade, nor a century. The resources needed- the manpower
required? One could only imagine… In that time it took to build the city. Two moons were obliterated,
floods drowned the planet, and their kind devised a way to send scouts and machines to space.
Built within the crater of a fallen star, it set a precedent. The stone they quarried for the city is of
unknown origin. The Sable’sa of Llacrant kept that a secret. Just as they commanded the dragomii dig
deep into the planet. Building abyssal districts thousands of feet underground. And sunlight districts
up above. Billions built the city, and more lived and live within it. The haven of dragomiian kind.
The Regions Rise
While eight regions remain today, thirteen originally stood. During the commissioning
of Alabraxia, the founders who previously had not emerged would rise. Before this, only Conferus, Casaderea,
and Sharrjararal roamed. Each region took the name of its founder- excluding Region Sharrjioketh whose
founder was dead and had no true input.
Originally disconnected from each other. The ten founders were individuals who brought their
collective ‘regions’ together. Bringing order and a sense of structure to their wild- chaotic lands.
All but one were mothers to their to-be regions. In the Cascars Desert, where the Hornless Sage Casaderea
lived within Necropse. It was her dying wish that set upon a journey to collect the displaced, disheveled,
and dying. To organize and build Vitalus. A powerbase from where to rule.
In the far north, Conferus brought together those stuck upon their pole. In the freezing cold did she
disallow the great famine that plagued their ilk from continuing. And in the middle east, Malia
roamed the swamp. Bracing the worst of the biosphere, and sending out scouts to unite the similar
mire in the west. Just as Conferus sent aid to the southern pole. Creating the two diarchies.
Kajir and Kelgorea would fight with each other. Kelgorea besting Kajir in a fight and sending her
east to her high mountains. Bad blood festered as they raised their children. A forewarning of disaster to
come. Just as Liderea stood in the cradle of dragomiian kind. Rolling fields, desert, and mountains
laced with battle and gore. Remnants from The Howling and vengeful sable’sa warlords and junta
attacked the remaining dragomii. The cradle of their kind was drenched in blood and failure. A
husk from which all the others crawled out from.
Together, did the Na’sat and Talsmajir stand. After the death of the Pretend Angel, the Na’sat
taught young Talsmajir. Nurturing and supporting her, while learning all the while. Together they
drafted plans and laws. Talsmajir represented the very best of her kind. A hegemon to be; or so
Na’sat Calamidy would say.
The others? Plagued with violence, rape, piety, and ego did they run around. Fools the lot of them.
Fools that damned their regions. Who reared them in chaotic violence and religious dogma, who bought
ill ideas.
But there remains one region. One who was not birthed of a mother. Whose land had forever been quiet.
Forever mired in mist and mystery. No matriarch raised them… But a Father. Arkhan,
The Father of Monsters.
To The Standing,
Talsmajir,
Arkhan,
Casaderea,
Conferus,
Liderea,
Malia,
Kelgora,
Kajir
And The Fallen
Kyisada,
Piremount,
Balquextha,
Cavinot,
Sharrjioketh
With thirteen regions collected. The Na’sat turned to Talsmajir and
informed the Founder that she was to take control. Na’sat Calamidy
had by now learned that her theological rule over dragomiian kind was
cruel. To continue as she were- to be a god dictating the whims of their race.
Would be a failure, an utter and complete failure to the world she hoped to
build. And so, as it happened before. And as it continues to happen. A ritual
now long cemented in the biological memory of dragomii; that dance of death.
Talsmajir and The Na’sat Calamidy fought in ritualistic combat. And just as
she was taught to do, Talsmajir won. Killing Na’sat Calamidy in a long and
grueling combat. And just as they did with The Pretend Angel, ate the Na’sat.
They used her quills and her bones to craft the hegemons crown. The same crown
that has endured undamaged into perpetuity. What remained of her bones, quills,
and hide was entombed. Revered, loved, and remembered. Though, while Na'sat wanted
Talmurki to bear her fate, and so forth. The First Region Court had a chaotic ending.
From thereon in, thirteen would unite. While some would fall, most would remain. This
time within the Tasismarrian calendar marks the distant past. From the dark
days of The Black Crusade and the plague that came soon after. To the heights of golden
ages. Then back down depravity as Kajir burned and massacres occurred. History within the
Tasismarrian Calendar was grand, and long. The Ardent Calendar started in tragedy just as
the earlier days came to a draw. With the loss of the Divine Moons, Utter-Fucking-Chaos,
and the famines that came it was hard those early AC days. But the Wheel Turned. Life moved
on, and so did the animals continue to live, fight, laugh, and cry. In the Modern Era,
tensions are at their highest ever since that bloody civil war, Utter-Fucking-Chaos. The
clouds of war thicken as tempers flare. But even so, peace remains for now. The Autarch
of The Dragomii, The Hegemon over them all, Talmurki rules as the current Arch Region Queen.
One who bears a shocking resemblance to the long dead Talsmajir.
World Politics- The Regions
Whilst these dynamics may appear simple, they are not. Yes, the dragomii
operate under what appear to be monarchies. They have queens, lords, dukes,
barons and the like. But make no mistake- these structures of government are
no monarchies. The Region Pact may rule the world, but it is only one
Hegemon pulling the leashes of the squabbling regions under Talsmajir’s
reign. United under one hegemony, yes. United by culture? No. Everyone
hates Arkhan. They ignore underdeveloped Liderea. Casaderea and Conferus
share an unbreakable bond. Just as Kajir harbors an apt hate for those who
abandoned them, and those who oppressed them. Malia sits back and watches
chaos unfold. Kelgorea antagonizes Kajir and Casaderea. And so on.
And within the regions lay countries, kingdoms, republics, citadels,
settlements, and a thousand more governing bodies. For while a Region Queen
rules as hegemon of that region. The land they “own” is too vast to even
consider full consolidation, full governance, full presence. Impossible as
armies would be stretched thin to the max and not even cover a quarter of
the land they reside upon. And so within the regions do sovereign states wage
war and politic about. While they bow to their overlord with grace; knowing
that to upset the great beast they live within would be death. They are left
to operate uninterrupted more oft than not. Besides, the intel networks of the
regions alone would be useless without contracted eyes and ears.
World Dogma
All sophonts have their own religions. Gods roam the lands. Theology is
diverse yes- proven yes- but above it all. Lay one dogma. And within the
dragomii, their own biological dogmas. But that one, The Cycle. That thing-
The Wheel. Öhauʐreelkté, or 'The Wheel Turns'
A skull upon the body of a flowered wyrm. Two wheels circle its head. Both are forged of arms
grasping either to the left or the right. The emblem of eternity upon its brow. It is the Base
Concept of Eternity congealed into an understandable form. And thus The Wheel will present
differently each time. Base Concept Life (Violence) and Base Concept Existence are its others.
Base Concept Life has long been “dead” (shattered and dispersed). Base Concept Existence remains
untouched, but everyone on Sertha heard the words of The Wheel. ”Soon existence will no longer
exist. And all are waiting for the rapture. It's said that The Wheel was behind the
shattering of Life, given how it's trying to do the same to Existence.
But now the biological dogma of the dragomii. The Pillars. Four Base Emotions
given life- Four Pillars aligned with the four major arteries in the neck of the dragomii. The
Base Emotions are some of the most primal animalistic parts of the dragomii. They are in order of
importance and impact: HATE, WRATH, VENGEANCE, and REVENGE. The first being a lowly climb, and
the last a lengthy and tedious venture. These pillars are revered just as much as they are feared
and reviled. To climb one; to take that path is no simple undertaking.
Global Economy or The Lack Thereof.
Look far and wide- down and up. And one thing becomes clear upon Sertha. Capitalism has no place.
Unending money and ‘progress’- a system of infinite growth upon a world filled with finite resources.
One that rewards greed and punishes those with failing bodies or who do not wish to play the game. And
in the hands of a species as easily enraged as dragomii? Ruinous. Capitalist projects fail quickly in
comparison to any other system. Once did it last long, and that was with apocalyptic consequence. The
Era of Ardent’s Fangs, ending with that bloody civil war- Utter-Fucking-Chaos. Hundreds of
billions dead in the wake of The Capitalist. Forever shaking the world with the aftershocks of its
success. It's true, when they had an economy and money, the banks were full. Investors and shareholders
happy. But the common being soon became straddled with generations of debt, debt paid in slavery. Even
before The Capitalists plutocracy there was the Shivuhound Rike and their coin. While poverty was low,
tyranny was high. Any non Shivuhound was but a bounty. Children and adults alike slaughtered en masse
for a paycheck. Greedy officers saw genocides escalate to omnicide. And any other colony or project
ended in bloodshed. Lives tossed to the machine of growth and productivity.
So just how do the dragomii function without an economy? Just how does that work? Very, very,
carefully is the answer. A system that does not reward greed nor does it rely on any token. A very fragile
system. The merciless gears of a hungry beast that takes and takes were replaced by individuals turning the cogs.
Individuals make the world and society function, through reputation, barter, trust, order, and punishment.
So how does it work? Shop owners receive not tokens for trade, but favors, furniture, services, or other
requested goods. They barter for whatever they want- they may hand away a pound of gold for blanket.
There is no market value of things, solid gold is useless in the hands of a baker. Why should they try to
prop the metal up as something grand when all they need is flour or another spoon? If a metal worker
needs a meal, they may offer that shopkeeper custom made tools in request of the gold. Or just a meal.
Just as the metal worker may offer a custom weapon for a Whores company. Housing is generally
free~ each housing complex resembles a hotel. Though with much larger ornate rooms. An overseer keeps
the houses in order, and in return, the dragomii work together to pull each other's weight and their
own. Providing entertainment, food, resource, and whatever else they need for comfort. In return for
keeping the complex clean and running, the overseer lets them live there. Those who bring the bodies
of the dead fallen in duels or accidents to chopshops receive free cuts of meat for their work. News
agencies have contracts with theaters and restaurants. They provide the shops with fresh paper, ink,
and articles. In return, theater troupes keep their eyes peeled. Looking for anything news worthy, and
those restaurant workers collect stories and information from customers as payment among other things to
rely to those agencies. Which keeps individuals entering their shops and watching their plays, keeps
information and reputation flowing.
Companies exist but not as expected. Mercenary companies work for resources to keep up their purchase of weapons
and tech. Often only taking barter from those capable of enlisting a high end contractor, terracut cartels, and
those already owning the needed resources. Cavalry companies work for whatever the hell they want, while
retaining reputation. Infiltrator Companies, those work much the same. Though they are oft populated solely
by Sable’sa if they do not operate out of Arkhan. To enlist an Infiltrator Company, one must have prisoners
on hand the majority of the time. Sable/dragomii relationships are still strained, and many sables demand
reparations in the form of a labor force. Infiltrators need raw resources for their tech. Sable industrial
companies are the very best at getting resources. And thus, Infiltrators rely on Industrials who rely on the
need of mercenaries/news agencies/whatever/whoever else needs the service.
The reliance upon contractors has the regions steeped deep in shortages. Poverty is traded for never knowing if or
when you will get xyz shippage. Tech and armories struggle with gathering the needed supplies. This breeds true
innovation. Dragomii do not care for the bodies of the dead as we do, no, instead they eat the bodies of the dead.
Use their hide and bones for tools and clothing. And most importantly, hijack the decentralized neural systems in
said bodies to create new computers or raise servants. Purposed organisms are cultured to instead produce certain
chemicals and alchemists are in heavy demand.
The Climate
Sertha is a massive planet. Scorned by two suns. The tides pulled by the wrath of three moons. Falling debris
from the stars and distant meteors strike sertha relentlessly. Temperatures soar into the 200s at times, and
plunge to apocalyptic depths at others. Storms are brutal and merciless- seven hurricanes may occur at once.
Tornados of monolithic size that last years, and other maelstroms having lasted since forever in perpetuity.
Lightning is a recurring terror. For the depths of space deposit metal upon the planet with every astral strike,
and the thick dense atmosphere offers a conduit. And oh the winds~ Violence incarnate. Gales that will rip the flesh
from your bones and mummify your corpse. And as the lightning strikes, as the winds whip, fires start. Fires that
quickly grow to prophetic proportions. And in some cases; the very air itself catches alight.
This inhospitable climate defies the odds. The Cascars Desert, or Region Casaderea, has its largest
swath of sand glassed in heat waves. And yet life flourishes. Laughing in the face of a burning
death do animal and plant alike refuse to die. An entire ocean akin ecosystem swims beneath the
singing sands. And in the cold, cold, reaches of the Conferus. Do flowers bloom in degrees well
below freezing. Do animals grow armored and massive in response to tornados whipping up water
and ice. Sending those perilous blades to kill and tear lives asunder. In the swamps filled with
toxic mists, where mires formed of caesium dwell. Live yet the vivacity of animals. And in the
ecological disaster ridden mountains of Kajir, burned and drenched in toxic silt. Did the spirit of
endurance fail to die. And so does culture, does ecosystem, does life rise like phoenix out of the ash.
This ecosystem is alive, and throughout this projects life will it be added too. The animals and
plantlife play a vital role. Speculative evolution in a fantasy-esc world. Where the distinction
between flora and fauna has become so blurred- specimens from either side may act as their opposing
diarch. The forests of sertha may look alike to those of earth. Trees that grow upwards and are
comprised of a trunk or few. And forests of sertha may also, and more commonly due to the weather,
look a mess. Trees like a vast pile of noodles, coiled and spread far and wide. Like great serpents
can these vast networks of flora move. Get up and roam wild much like an animal. Possess
“organs” and most noticeably, “heads”. And some animals have grown to things much more fitting as
houseplant than as an animal. Both have utilized the power of two suns to their advantage.
Animals with green or red upon them will more oft photosynthesize.
The Wyrm Note
Letter from an unknown scholar, addressed to "The Allshattering" Calamity of years past after the slaying of
"The Allstriking". Dated 'The Strike to Shatter Stars and Bring Forth The End of Chitins Rike'-TC. Released to
the masses sometime in the latter eras within the Tasismarrian Calendar. Known as 'The Wyrm Note'
"The Allshattering, may this answer to thy request find thee in due time.
You were right to question the land and its formation. Whilst Ardent remains... compromised,
after unforeseen contact- (Rest of sentence has been omitted. Inquires for further information are
either denied or answered with disrespectfully vague statements).
We have no longer pursued an answer from her and unless this damage can be reversed,
will no longer rely on her for history.
The other sister however brutish and difficult has been forced to yield answer. And from recovered
achieves we found an answer. The Sable'sa have been to our moons and most intriguingly, the sister
planet Alaterous. Information upon all three divine moons is scarce, but Alaterous? My my, you were
correct Allshattering. Land formation and masses are off, alien, and correct. Unlike ours.
Cross referenced with the rest of the archives material it is clear to see our science was infact not
incorrect- The numbers did not match up and it was no fault of our scientists. We are the anomaly- Our
world, our planet, is infeasible. Or rather 'impossible'- though bias fills my hearts at those words.
As to whether or not this relates to-
(The next three pages of the Wyrm Note have never been released and remain a myth)
Then I would have to say yes. It is... a disquieting notion. Perhaps in our haste we have dug ourselves into a grave.
Further collaborations with the Sable'sa are impossible for obvious reasons. Despite how you cleaned up that
frothing excuse for a deity! If we had the power and garrison I would request we further lash those bugs into
submission for these heretical insults. Find whatever gods they still think to pray too and pry the meat off their
bones and devour them whole once more but I digress.
Thirteen stations is what we here at Tàrʐzö-malrnràö recommend. We must disallow them to wake at any cost.
In overthrowing the insects and claiming the crown do we also take that burden of responsibility. Thirteen
stations to monitor and ensure they stay in deep slumber. The hegemony forming under your divine guidance would serve a
wonderous surrogate for such designs.
More study is desperately needed if we are to understand the threat snoring right under our feet.
Those caverns and the darklight whilst lacking direct evidence must surely be related. You know what
wyrms do. What mahken does. And I think we both know of that rumor. The thirteen.
May thy Hunt be Few, and thy Prey Many"
