(RP PUBLICS means that this place can be accessed by a God even while he is in his own Realm and several other places; however, as a REALM SAVAGE, the God must first find a way to reach the Realm Savage before he will be granted access. One cannot just rock into the Realm Savage, after all. A God may only be in one RP SAVAGE at a time.)

Not much is known about the Sunken Jungles of the Nation of Logthsahsave that, along with Apath and Karnala it is the cornerstone of the might of the Conclave in the Realm Savage. An ancient city, built by a race of Shage long extinct, it slowly falls into the Lost Undersea of Thsah, that magnificent underground ocean which has, over the years, risen to claim the overland. The city itself is practically abandoned, sprawling through the swampland, most of the superstitious Shage abandoning it to its fate.

Still, it is perfect for most of the shadowier operations of the Conclave. While the city of Logthsah above is given to the vicious squid-fiends and the brave brigand bands that fight amongst themselves on the surface, Fort Sah exists in the perfectly sealed ancient Barracks Hall of the forgotten race of Shage which dwelt in that place. Accessible only via cleared manifestations from the Chapel of Methodes and the supply-tunnels which link to the far eastern mountain ranges that border Apath - as well as various drowned gateways - the Fort is the epitome of good defense, not only unassailable but practically unknown. Even the thieves and squid-fiends that skirmish above know very, very little of the place.

Logthsah is host to its own peculiarities above and below. Above, the rare water-weed Drowghoor flourishes, the prime hunt of various treasure-seekers, though it be guarded jealously by the fiend-squids. Drowghoor is routinely harvested by the Conclave forces below, though only in utmost secret as it is typically considered an illegal narcotic in the Realm Supernatural. Highly addictive, rumoured to be extraterrestrial in origin, it allows the user to reach various [CENSORED] and attempt, even, to [CENSORED]. Standard theory suggests that the squid-fiends have grown to become dependent on the Drowghoor. Nevertheless, it is the harvesting of this incredibly dangerous weed that funds Fort Sah in it's entirety.

Many of the temple-tombs on the above surface are themselves sealed esoterically, and are thought to contain great treasures. The opening and investigation of these chambers is not the Fort's highest priority.

The Fort Sah itself is incredibly large - at one point in time, the Shage race that dwelt there is thought to have conquered much of the Realm Savage - and is filled with all manner of ancient weapons and technologies. It is here that the Conclave run their main series of operations in the Realm Savage, and at any one time the Fort has three thousand men active and hundreds of thousands more that can be rallied at a moment's notice. It is run by Fort Warden Yogan, known and respect for his rather unorthodox (some would say unlawful) stance towards Conclave-Civilian trade.

Fort Sah joins the Sea of Thsah via various tunnels, and it is there that the scientific work of the Conclave continues. An entire system of life (and magic) exists beneath, and only a tiny fraction of it has been studied by Conclave scientists. Nevertheless, the main theory of the Conclave is that the Sea connects to the eastern Karnala and Apath coastline seas, and Fort Sah is primarily concerned with exploring the shining undersea as well as investing in a major, secret fleet to further support the Conclave's hold over the Realm Savage.

A blink of an eye, a shift of perception, and Pitcarn is in Logthsah. he hopes fervently that the Methodes Gate has taken him to Fort Sah, and looks around himself examining the surroundings. Draining his glass, he places it within his robes, paradoxing it to his self in another-where.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Wed 14 July 2010.

Pitcarn finds himself standing in a large, open room, built of shining, fluorescent stone. He is approached by a single, tall man wearing the robes of the Inner Circle, flanked by two guardsmen, each carrying light firearms.

"State your business and intentions regarding Fort Sah," said the man. "Verify yourself. We will need your Seal of Odin."

"I am Hallowed Leord Pitcarn the First of the Lesser Bilbligh, Mighty Ignorant and Vicious God of Food, Black Prince and Lowlord of the Conclave. I come here by order, to present myself that I might take command of 15th lowest Legion Therdenmanger.

"My intentions, in the short term, are to meet with my legion, longer; have not yet been ascertained.

"To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

The man suddenly smiled, the grin eclipsing his otherwise dour face.

"Captain Sur of the Sah Guard," he said, extending his hand. "Welcome to Fort Sah, General. "I have been instructed to find you, to make sure you are adequately fed and watered, and then to show you to High General Oura of Gilligan. Would you care to sample our delicacies, General, or do you wish to cut straight to business?"

"Captain, you do tempt me. How did you know I love my food?

"Is it possible to combine both business and delicacies, or would that be improper?

"Maybe if I were to meet High General Oura, in an informal setting, say, while we ate, then go on to discuss the situation that stands ahead of us."

Pitcarn was enjoying immensely the thought of food.

"Of course, of course," said the captain. "That was what the General suggested to begin with. Please, cleanse and prepare yourself within," he said, guiding Pitcarn to a small, private room furnished with a shower, a basin, razors, a comb, a mirror, a bed and various other bits and bobs.  "I will prepare a private feasting chamber and inform General Oura."

With that the captain was gone and Pitcarn was free to do whatever he needed.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Pitcarn realised how he looked. Blood from Lictros' punch was still smeared on his lower jaw, and his robes. Mud from Perigo was on his shoes and hems. A smell on incense, from the Methodes chapel was clinging to his robes and Pitcarn knew he could smell the grapes of his home. In a vague attempt to brush part of his robe down, he was sure a minute amount of sand fell out, courtesy of a current paradox. There was a slump in his shoulders, he felt that he had failed, himself and the Conclave, and his attitude reflected that.

Sighing, Pitcarn found a goblet and concentrating slightly, filled it with a light, clear wine, then filled a basin with the cold water that was his preferred way to wash. Ensuring that his actions only affected his appearance here, at the Hall of the Sun and in Bilbligh, he stripped down and scrubbed himself vigorously.

He was about to use the razor, when he remembered Lictros' advice towards his broken jaw, and simply imagined himself free of unwanted hair. Laughing for the first time in a long time, he drained his glass of wine, and refilled it. He imagined the same cleanliness to his robes. Over his robes, he affixed his armour, that received during the Alkan crisis and then strapped all the weapons he had present to himself, in an obvious military manner, and ensured his Oathblade was present hanging from the exterior of his robes.

It was more than his appearance that had changed as he stepped from the tent. He felt lighter in spirit, as though some of the defeats he had suffered had slipped from his shoulders. He was a Vicious God, in the Realm Savage. A General, going to meet and feast with a peer, to discuss war and plot strategy. Once more, his laugh was heard in the Fort.

He felt at home.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:53, Fri 23 July 2010.

His hair was cleaned; his flesh was; his face smoothed. Pitcarn felt good, if a little tired - his energy being exerted in several places at this stage - and he was just relaxing as there was a sudden knock at the door.

"Forgive me, Lord General," said the voice of a young woman from behind the door. "But I have been sent from the Valley of Ten Towers to pass to you a parcel of some importance. Will you allow me to enter?"

With Jonaht's words in his ears, Pitcarn grasped his oathblade before he responded.

"You may enter."

The young Shage girl bowed, placing a small wooden box in front of Pitcarn. There were several colourful stickers slapped across the front - FOR THE EYES OF GENERAL PITCARN ONLY, FORT SAH; PUNISHMENT IS THE GUARANTEE OF THE SENDER; CAUTION, CONTENTS FRAGILE; DECREE OF CIRCUMVENTION, H. C. L.; DO NOT OPEN - and, ironically enough, the box itself had been wrapped with red ribbon. It was a gift, of sorts.

The messenger left immediately after giving Pitcarn the box.

Pitcarn smiled and rubbed his jaw when he saw the red ribbon and the 'H.C.L.'

Waiting a few minutes after the girk had left, Pitcarn picked up the package and unwrapped it

The ribbon was rather difficult to take up, designed more as an unsophisticated of keeping people out than any real gift-giving purpose. Nevertheless, Pitcarn succeeded, and opened the box. Inside were two objects of importance: the first was a second, smaller box - the size of the box a jeweler would place a small ring within - stamped with the seal of Lictros; the second was a small stack of papers.

Opening the smaller box Pitcarn found a small vial, protected by dark foam. It was barely big enough for him to grasp, and it contained five or six drops of liquid. The liquid itself was formed of the deepest blue, and Pitcarn found it hard to look at it straight on; as difficult as staring at the sun.

The first paper, a scribbled note: A gift from me to you, friend. Use it well in the conflict to come. Also illegal, by our own Law, so do not be a fool and advertise the fact you have it before the invasion begins. You can thank me after. H. C. L.

The second note seemed to be an academic paper of some sort. It detailed the theory - virtually unproved as no non-Callisti could verify it, and the Callisti themselves dodged most questions - that the Realm Certain contained the prototype of every other form of matter within the World-Tree, and its worlds, acting as a sort of repository for perfect images. From these images, matter - emanations of the true divinity and perfection of Certitude - was created. Fire and heat was formed by the Fire Most Certain, for example, a pure energetic force entirely destructive and chaotic; the Stone Most Certain would be the rock by which all other rocks were judged. It is unknown what effects these Certain Creations might have on non-perfect beings (i.e., non-Callisti), but the theories associated with Yggdrasildic Lore suggest that they would be powerful and irreversible. Entering the Realm Certitude was a hanging offense, if ever a thief survived the exploration itself. As to how these forms could ever be extracted, or even if they existed at all.. that was a mystery none could solve at this moment.

The third note seemed to be a clipping from an dossier of one sort or another: Councilman, OPERATION PURITY (Fourth Stage) has been considered a success.

Putting the clippings and the small box within the larger, Pitcarn paradoxed both to Bilbligh. His mind was struck by panic. What would he do with this? How would it work? How could he be the underling of Ruse and work for Lictros, what was he doing?

Fear had struck Pitcarn, and he was suddenly so very worried, and yet calm at the same time. There was rage, and desire, and a feeling of betrayal, but also a determination and clarity.

More time passed; the items were easily transferred to the Bilbligh manifestation. The room seemed awfully cramped around him. He heard the footsteps of the patrolling guard once, twice, thrice outside of his room.

Pitcarn felt the room around himself, and worried. He made sure his armour was straight, and was about to exit the tent when a thought struck him, and he spoke:

"SUIT. Using any and all records available from the time that you have been in use by me, as well as any Conclave records that you are able to access with my clearance, Identify the Divine that attacked me in Tushmuthut. I want any details that can be supplied to me.

"If you encounter any data that you can access but not under my clearance, flag it for me.

"All information gathered is to be displayed to me though my Conclave channel, NOT here. I do not want it presented anywhere other than my conclave channel."

Pitcarn then left the tent, to meet with General Oura.

Opening file: mystattacktush/1.
File opened.
Encrypting file..
File encrypted.
Gathering information.. 4% checked.
File to be placed within the Conclave Channel upon Completion.


Pitcarn was guided by a friendly servant waiting outside his room to High General Oura's room. He knocked thrice, and she bade Pitcarn enter. Within the sparse chamber was the same basic set out as his own - he figured each of the rooms, while fluctuating in size, where pretty much created with equal intent in mind - with the exception of a long leather couch and a broad writing desk covered with maps of Tushmuthut. Sitting at the writing desk was the High General Oura, an ancient woman with dark grey hair, strong blue eyes and a warm, grandmotherly smile.

"Ah, welcome, Pitcarn," she said, gesturing him to sit at the couch. "Please, make yourself at home. I am told you are quite the oenophile. Have you tried Sah root-wine? Highly valued within the Realm Supernatural, yet common as mud here."


Gathering information.. 10% checked.
File to be placed within the Conclave Channel upon Completion.

((OOC: 'mystattacktush' makes me think of: "Filthy assisstants, ready your attack wombs!"

Also, should Pitcarn be able to sense Oura's divinity, and if so, what are the details?))

Pitcarn found himself warming to the general almost immediately, and laughed happily at the thought of something more to drink.
"General, ma'am, I'm afraid you have struck at my social weakness, I do have a great fondness for wine, and I have not tasted the fruits of Logthsah at all. Thank you for the opportunity."

Pitcarn stands, until he is invited by the general to sit, but he attempts to examine the maps as well as he possibly can, to see what about the Tushmuthut in the maps is different to the Tushmuthut he saw in person. If he can be more valuable to Oura, Ruse's own wrath will be of less consequence. Politics is not Pitcan's goal here; the mission is.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:49, Wed 04 Aug 2010.

(Nope, Oura has her divinity fairly concealed.)

The maps are fairly detailed, but Pitcarn can easily spot where he was. The destruction has also been detailed quite accurately. Conclave intelligence in these parts was nothing to scoff at.

"Please, Pitcarn, call me Oura," said the High General, filling Pitcarn's goblet with wine. "There is no need for formalities here. In front of the men we shall be High General and Low General, but here.. friends, I think. This will be a magnificent battle, but I fear there is much danger involved. We may not survive. If you are not willing to risk everything you have.. you do not serve the Conclave's purposes here. I need to know you are serious; that you are committed to the cause."

Gathering information.. 16% checked.
File to be placed within the Conclave Channel upon Completion.

While he was slightly suspicious of the secrecy surrounding Oura's divine aura, Pitcarn pushed it to the back of his mind.

"General, as a vicious god, this battle doesn't represent the risk of everything I have. It is everything. There is nothing else. Questioning my commitment loses time that we could use for warring."

Pitcarn waited a moment, but his mind was focused on business, on the coming battle.

"What are the reports on the ground? I know that the wall," he traces Osiris Ra's wall with his finger, "is in solid, almost perfect condition near the west gate, and the gate itself has suffered some superficial damage, but not enough to really impair function, sadly.

"From the ground the wall is imposing, like a force. I'm wary as to what effect it might have on mortal troops, simply by existing, let alone in their attempt to cross it. Do we have a definite way of overcoming it yet?"

"Not as yet," admitted Oura. "That is the wall known to the Cult as the Third Boundary, and in general parlance as the Last Hand of Osiris-Ra. It is named so because at every half-meter point in the wall is the blackened image of Osiris-Ra's own left hand - which, I believe, was literally burned into the rock. There is a powerful power here - not yet Divine, or sorcerous, but something more. Our own magic will become bizarre, erratic or shut down past that point. Mechanical technology will fail. Morale, I believe, will be crushed.."

She sighed.

"And, of course, it has incredible strength just as a mundane wall. It can be destroyed, though. It was made by Osiris-Ra's own hand - and as such, should easily be undone by the Dread Lord's own bane, at least according to my esoteric understanding of these things. Water should do the trick, but it dehydrates at a ridiculous rate within the desert, and trapping it in vials or spheres may be too complicated. If we lose the water, we've practically lost the battle." She looked at Pitcarn. "Of course, with trebuchets and catapults and cannons we could simply bombard the wall with slabs of stone. Even a defense made of solid still would falter under our consistent attack.."

Pitcarn takes two empty goblets, and tips them upside down to make sure. He then tips water from one to the other, until both are full, and then places them down in front of Oura, both are filled to the brim with cold, crystal clear water.

"I think we may have a chance with the water effects, Oura." Pitcarn smiled. "I also intend to create a creature to aid us in the wall assault, either to directly batter the walls, or aid forces in capturing and widening a breach. I havn't had the time to mythcraft it yet, but as soon as I do, I will."

Done showing off, Pitcarn gestured across the map. "What caused this devastation? The wreckage is incredible, smashed buildings and architecture everywhere. It may allow our scouts to close on the city walls easily, but whatever it is has also had some effect on the buildings inside the wall"

"Do you think breaking the wall would destroy the enchantment? Allow our technology and magics to work in the inner city again?"

Oura laughed at the summoning of water. "I am impressed by your skills," she said. "It would seem that they picked the right God for the job. Nothing could please me more than working with a suitable partner."

She looked at the map.

"The wall is the physical manifestation, the loci, of the strange protective power," said Oura. "Not quite an enchantment, as I fear that the affect itself isn't magical in nature, but definitely a hyper-amulet of sorts. Nevertheless, I have seen its like before - if the Wall falls, so does the Hand. One break in the wall should be enough to release the power.. but the wall itself, I'd imagine, is incredibly, supernaturally tough. It won't be easy. And if dousing it is the route we decide to take .. I fear we'll need a lot of water."

Her eyebrows furrowed together.

"The destruction. We believe, according to our limited intelligence, that the same mechanical Mad God that sieged our Fort in the recent Battle of Alkan - this has been confirmed by our news sources, and will probably break to the public sometime today in the Herald. The Mad God must have overextended himself - sources state that he also assaulted Niborkerese in addition to Alkan and Tushmuthut. Courageous, but deeply stupid."

"A Mad God? Do we have any assisstance from the Dracheorden, or will they be present looking for traces of the Mad? They could be an asset or a liability depending on the role they decide to take on.

"My water creation skills may not be sufficient for taking down the wall, and if I'm minding the water stores to ensure our troops have something to drink, I can't be leading. There may have to be stores aiding my efforts on the wall.

"Physical destruction may be a fantastic aid to any attacks we make using water. I don't want to be the only method we have for tackling a huge hurdle in our invasion plans. As you've said, death is going to be easy to come by in Tushmuthut."