The North PacificBoard

Multitudinal Alignment of Kinds
Continental Territories of the Tarnnequi People
Sanctum-State of Ma Ruka
Keep of Ma Ruka

They gathered in a fortress of stone and steel, preserved through the ages. Once a towering castle, the keep of Ma Ruka now stood amidst the snow as a redoubt, a bunker complex being hollowed out beneath. Within the fortified walls of the complex was their command and control centre. Zanash crept across the cobbled floors, tending to their stations. Drones and matriarchs alike served in the military here, each of them devoted to their goal. For where other sanctums had an army, the Tarnnequi had an army with a sanctum- each one a citadel ruled by the militia within, and then more troops than those combined shared between them in the Continental Army. Since antiquity they had fought an eternal war against the humans, a war that was far from won. The Puczovskan expansion had already placed them on alert- and now, it seemed the anarchist state had been given the chance for a finishing blow to the mortal presence in the western Verusan mainland.

“A clash between enemies equally as opposed to us.” The cold, gentle voice of High Behemoth Shuul echoed throughout the chamber as her subordinates joined the local militiamen. Ma Ruka was not her sanctum- indeed, none were- but as the highest ranking active commander of the Continental Army, she had authority to assume total control of the situation when things grew this dire. Any who looked at her saw those features. The purple-grey skin, the thickness of her exoskeleton, and most of all those enormous horns that crested her skull...each of these was a symbol of fortitude among the Tarnnequi, the zanash that had dared to make the continent their home. When she spoke, none interrupted. Her voice captivated all, as did her gestures. But she was no politician. She was a commander. Her rule was forceful, because force was the only language the eternal enemy would learn for long.

“In the event of a catastrophic assault, it is possible our borders will change. I do not see any intent to harm us directly,” said Zenshong, High Leviathan- thus commander of the navy. “Our oceanic forces remain on alert. In the worst case, the Multitudinal Army will support our cause. We have little to fear.”

“But everything to lose, should we be wrong.” Shuul took a step forward, examining her compatriot. Zenshong was short for a drone, let alone a matriarch. But what she lacked in muscularity she made up for with strategic ingenuity and an unbridled tenacity. The High Behemoth trusted her judgment. What she did not trust was the enemy. Mortals such as them were unpredictable. And for all their fleshiness, the hairless apes had still dominated most of the world. Other species existed, but most were mere enclaves compared to those abominable things. “What of our associates? May you predict their choices?”

“There is no telling what the Vindika will do. The Arashke will remain stubborn in their ignorance, as is ever the case.” Perpetually a truth. Perpetually their fatal flaw. For the homeland of the zanash species refused to embrace progress. It was ironic that the first of them to rise would also be the first of them to fall...

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Eastern Island Territories of the Vindika People
Sanctum-State of Aruda
Court of the Hexarchy

“It would appear our ascension comes ever closer,” declared one among the Hexarchs. Shakhtur, though ostensibly equal to her compatriots, was the true driving force behind Aruda’s politics. In her mind, every opportunity for their own benefit needed to be seized. Their allies in the west and continent were millstones and liabilities- the Multitude offered security for now, but in time, the Vindika would stand alone and proud, unhindered by the pitiful threats of their former associates. It was a dream she sought to achieve in her lifetime- and given her age, she had twenty odd years to carry out before the harsher frailties emerged. “Yugobatania has declared war upon Pucovska. It seems they want that which the radicals have stolen from us.”

“I would rather the guild-state than the modern barbarians,” said Vanshen, another of the Hexarchs. “The slave revolts grow tiresome. This radical concept of ‘communism’ seeps into the delusional minds of the rebellious thralls.” All present knew full well that she most benefited from the continued trade of slaves among the Hexarchies of the Vindika. Her own guild was dedicated to livestock, intelligent and unintelligent alike. And Shakhtur was aware that her force of labour formed the backbone of their prosperity. So long as they had an influx of service, they would remain the most luxurious and rich of zanash kinds. The Arashke were too traditional and rigid, the Tarnnequi too utilitarian and disciplined. Only they had the wisdom to pursue economic opportunities without hesitation born of obsolete dogma.

“I concur,” added Tharyun, a bulky matriarch in command of the East Island Trading Company. “They, at least, will understand business. Better them than the communists. Better anyone than the communists.”

“There are rumours,” said Shakhtur, “that the southern hexarchies intended to mobilise their penal battalions.”

“They would,” muttered Maurk, the closest thing to a military commander in the room. Her numerous guilds were focused on a variety of miscellaneous tasks, but she claimed descent from a great airship commander of the Vindication War. Whatever odd schemes she had gotten herself into had rendered her rich- her fortunate permitted her to become a member of the hexarchy, after all. This was a plutocracy, an oligarchy of coin. The rich ruled, as was their right, and in this sense there was a respect for the vast wealth available to Yugobatania’s OCorp. Even so, the southernmost sanctum-state- Raurve- was notoriously jumpy when military activity was possible nearby. And with a change in ownership over the stolen island territory desired by the aggressors, they would be unwilling to leave themselves vulnerable. “Inform them at once to minimise any aggression. This war is beneficial should the corporatists win it.”

“To us,” said Tharyun. “Not necessarily to them.” It was not secret that her trading company had a vested interest in all sanctum-states of the island, not just Aruda. But she had a point. If they were to benefit most from this, all of the hexarchies needed to be in agreement. “It may be possible to persuade them of our perspective, if we are delicate with the negotiations.”

“Contact Raurve and Majapadara,” came the order. “Do not allow the Multitude to know. We will coordinate our operations. We are no fools. We will maintain our defences. But we will seek to offer support for the Yugobatanians, even if we must conceal our involvement from the petty idiocies of the continent and homeland. Are we in agreement?”

Each member of the hexarchy affirmed their accord, and with that, the decision was made.

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Western Island Territories of the Arashke People
Sanctum-State of Vadashka
Altar of Fate

Elashre Talmukre, Holy Matriarch of the Sanctum of Vandashka, braced from the coming sacrament. Slowly she raised her blessed staff, changing in the archaic tongue, a convocation of ancestral spirits and the wisdom that they offered. The crowd before her joined the chant as she forced the souls of the ancients into the cauldron of water before her. With a simple glass she reached within, and pulled from the depths of their wisdom. Then she sipped the water. It was fresh. It imbued her with coldness of the blizzards, and with this sensation gripping her throat, she knew the ghosts had spoken.

“Gather, sisters of the graceful, and I shall bless you each with the truth I have been privileged to witness.” The others gave their agreement, each bowing before their own Matriarch. For while they were each mother of a clan, it was Erashre who served as mother of a sanctum, guide of a people, highest among Arashke. They alone among the kinds perceived the desecration of the world as sacrilege, understood that true power extended not in life, but in lives after. The homeland had long been smallest of the territories, but the west was forever the haven of the faithful. And when the others cast aside the truth for their own gain, it was they who would most suffer when oblivion claimed all.

“We have each beheld the portents, the omens from afar. Our diligence is sacrosanct, our vigil now rewarded. For the darkness comes to sweep the continent. Black and crimson march to war and turn the blizzards red. The mortals and the sinful are soon to meet in war, and we alone be left as the righteous legacy of the zanash race. Arashke kind alone prevails over all. And so to help fate manifest this path, I say that we should offer a sacrifice to the watchers, but not to them alone.”

After a moment of silence, one among the congregation raised her head to speak. “Holy Matriarch, Mother, what do you propose? What shall sway fate in our favour on this day?”

Erashre smiled, then raised her staff upwards- pointing it to the east. “The armies of black and red shall soon be scorched black and stained red. In their agony comes the wretched tide of greed and avarice, as commanded by a mortal patriarch of such sin. In the face of this atrocity, we have but one selection. We have but one alternative to destiny’s betrayal. To the gods we offer food and favour, and so to our salvation among mortals we offer much the same. To the nation of Puczovska, our support must go, lest we be abandoned when oblivion arrives.”

In a realm as traditional and pious as hers, such a statement was nothing less than a command. With testimony of the spirits, provided by she who had devoted herself to their will, the zanash of Vadashka had made their choice. The other Arashke would soon follow in their work, loyal to their kind capital, loyal to the greatest bulwark between them and the rising power of the Vindika and Tarnnequi. The Multitude would not be called upon this day.

And indeed, not until the situation became a direct threat to the Multitudinal Alignment of Kinds as a whole…