Zazriel Res Publica

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Heaven Above. Haven Below.

This content takes place in the Haven setting of Imagindarium's Creation.

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Index / Lexica / Timeline

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Zazriel Res Publica

Current flag of the ZRP

Meta Info

Article Creator

Duodecillionaire

Article Author

Duodecillionaire

Scope

Imagindarium's Creation

Setting

Haven

National Info

Organization Type

Stateless Guild Syndicate

Status

Extant

Types of Divisional Powers/Regions

Geographical

Divisional Powers/Regions

• The Grand North
  
• Ado
  
• Atatakan Islands
  
• Starmiin Mountains
  
• Bay of Rastolk
  
• Midwinter Sea
  
• The Interior

Geographical Info

Territory

Most of Northern Zazriel and some of Ruhiel

Capital Info

Capital(s)

Yurette (de facto)

Capital Type

City-state

Demographic Info

Inhabitants

• Yurite Mythra
  
• Common Mythra
  
• Rabuka
  
• Nynfolk
  
• Fext

National Faith

Enforced misotheism

Foundational History

Date Created

2709 YM

Founder(s)

Conditor

Diplomacy

Allies

Eastern Union

Enemies

Westland Empire

Military - Structure

Special Forces

• The Oreads
  
• Heiresses of Triton
  
• Order of the Arquebus

Standing alone on Haven is the Zazriel Res Publica, a great power on the fringes of habitable land. Farther north than most of its neighbors, the Res Publica stands alone both in a spatial and metaphorical sense. There is officially no government; the various cities, guilds, towns, and villages are more or less free to function as their inhabitants see fit. Local councils handle day-to-day governance, while regular referenda periodically shake up the political landscape. Enterprises, such as workshops, forges, farms, and factories, are owned by the workers. The result is a tremendously equal society, ravenous consumer demand, and constant imports to fuel its economy.

In the past, the lands of Northern Zazriel were a place of constant warfare dominated by the city of Yurette. This powerful city, populated by the elite "Yurites," had used its armies for centuries to extract as much as possible from the rest of the continent. With ships sailing to the four corners of the earth, mages unrivaled on the continent, and even reaching deep into the frozen continent of Ruhiel, Yurette was a formidable power. There were more gold, silver, platinum, and metals whose names were lost within Yurette than in all Zazriel as recently as five hundred years ago.

The immortal father of all Yurites, Conditor, was a hulking being. With grey skin and blood that shone like silver, Conditor had become a religious figure. He mindlessly wandered the streets of Yurette, never bothering to pay anything much mind. All of his children had died, his one true love died two thousand years prior, and he had no will. The purposeless Goliath would have remained in this fugue were it not for the re-emergence of lucidity for a single moment. No one knows what caused him to wake up, but from the moment he did, he entered into a rage. The monstrous man joined a revolution against the city. He gathered much of its ruling class and drowned them in molten rose gold. He left them writhing until the metal solidified; the wretched statues left behind are still on display to this day.

It would be futile for him to do just this. Some centuries prior, Conditor obliterated the original city of Yurette. This cleansing did not stop them from oppressing the people once again; nothing could. The giant bit off his little finger and fashioned it into a hammer, channeling the overwhelming emotion of two millennia into it.

Each time he brought the hammer down on himself, he ruptured nearby eardrums with his cries. The largest of his bones could not bear the power of his strikes, fracturing with a crack louder than even his voice. He spent the next few days in the city center, morphing his body into twelve weapons, the foundation of the modern Res Publica. After shattering the arm he used to wield the hammer, he created the final two before falling unconscious. The still-comatose Conditor has been moved to the new capital called The Commons, leaving the people of Zazriel with twelve superweapons that now permanently define their society. It is the holder of these weapons that maintain the current anarchy that is in place. Should they fail, and Conditor's slumber proves temporary, a third reset could occur. Yurette's twelve guilds, and a host of minor ones, must keep Northern Zazriel presentable.

History

Early History

Dozens of civilizations have called Northern Zazriel home. The oldest group to have significant influence was the Nynfolk. This ghostly race inhabits the coast of the Superior Sea. They worshipped the twin gods of Pyre & Gust, but these deities remained mostly uninvolved in their affairs. While fledgling Mythra civilization existed along the Akina River, history began with this group being quite small. Mythra had no religion in particular and looked to the stars for worship. The last race, the reclusive Rabuka, inhabited Rastolk Bay and worshipped Adephagia. This deity of the deep sea was heavily involved in their early society.

Mythra first tamed the Corvus in 560 YM. These large Draco-like birds proved immensely useful for transportation, hauling goods, and battle. With the help of Corvus, the earliest steppe nomads learned to herd reindeer. The resulting population spike caused the once sparse steppe to become quite well-populated. Caravans with populations of thousands emerged. Mythra became the most populous race on the continent.

Vaviland's Incursion

In 964 YM, Vaviland conquered much of Zazriel. Under Isehlaiir Goldenmane's rule, Vylish forces wasted considerable effort on the Corvus-riding tribes. The term Grand North came to describe the endless steppe of Northern Zazriel. The Vylish created a province in western Zazriel called Zenasi. When Junalaiir Goldenmane took power in 1000 YM, Vylish power around the world declined. Joining Vaviland's occupied territories around the world, Zenasi rebelled. Zenasi's rebels kidnapped and brutally murdered the empress.

In response, regent empress Zweilowik Silkrowel ordered the destruction of Zenasi and surrounding lands. The Vylish redoubled their efforts in the Grand North. For the next ten summers, Vylish forces ventured deep into the Grand North. With orders to slaughter any intelligent life they saw, including Corvus, they took advantage of dry summer weather to burn much of the land. The final expedition led them to the northern coast, where their wholesale destruction of the land ended. The Nynfolk have a lifecycle that depends on precisely controlled burns. When disrupted, they remain as beings of fire. These nymph-like stewards of nature retaliated by obliterating Silkrowel's forces. The main expedition never returned, ending most campaigns in the Grand North. Scouts located the charred expeditionary force and recovered Silkrowel's melted crown three years later.

The Vylish incursions into the Grand North ended in 1,105 YM. Another century would see Vaviland entirely withdraw from the continent. The first organized Nynfolk counter-invasions, this time in their metallic stage, further eroded Vylish power. An unlikely alliance of surviving steppe tribes and Nynfolk occupied Zenasi in 1,200, ending Vylish rule of Zazriel.

Conditor's Weapons

Hammer

The cramped corridor had long since been the epicenter of the Res Publica's magical research. The brick halls that long needed a fresh coat of paint had resisted over a century of wear. Nothing seemed to grow on the damp walls thanks to the omnipresent fumes choking the air. Despite the best efforts of half-rusted fans, the air always harbored a saccharine-sweet odor. Evenly spaced skylights flooded the hall with the orange glow of morning. Glassware of all kinds cluttered nearby tables, competing for space with alchemical diagrams and the heads of slouched technicians who had been hard at work all night. The fact that the sun was already rising was enough to doom the mission, but I continued regardless. We needed this intel, even if it was for a reason the higher-ups refused to divulge. I silently crept onward, passing several partitions to reveal the various experiments the alchemists had been up to.

Intel was intel. I shrugged despite being alone as I read through some of the pages. The punishment will be less harsh if I return something instead of nothing... I hope. I ripped out alchemy diagrams covered in excited scribbles about elementals. Instead of wasting time with papers whose handwriting was too poor or small to read in the still dim light, I shoved as many as I could into my bag.

After moving through several more rooms, I accidentally found the main office. A simple wooden door separated it from the rest of the facility, on it the word "Overseer." I uttered a quiet prayer of thanks to no one in particular. Behind the door was a cramped office room. Drawers overflowing with papers covered the walls from floor to ceiling. More like a closet than an office, it had no windows to speak of. All available light leaked from the hallway save for large gently glowing labels. The chair in the middle was unusually wide, surely obstructing many of the cabinets with its sheer size. I shook as I grabbed as many documents as I could; it was a miracle that I could find this room. Amid my frenzied gathering, I sensed the presence behind me too late to respond. A large hand grabbed my shoulder and turned me around, practically picking me up in the process.

A bulky man looked down at me from a lofty vantage point near the ceiling. He wore a dirty uniform that suggested a hard day's work in any number of fields. He could have been a farmer, a mechanic, a janitor, a technician, a construction worker, an artist, or any other number of professions. Despite it being so early in the day, his tired eyes broadcasted desperation to be closed. In his other hand, he gripped a hammer that looked too large even for him. Instead of speaking, or even struggling, I braced myself for an attack. He brought down his legendary hammer onto me, hardly giving me enough time to realize this was the end.

The hammer landed on my head like a meteor, sending a shockwave through my entire being. As fissures formed in my skull, the impact suddenly became more intense as though the hammer struck me a second time. Somehow, within the precious milliseconds left, I could tell he was not moving. I felt the rows of my teeth collide, only to crack as the hammer's force grew. Like a spike plunged into the earth, every blow sent me further into the ground. Looking back, that was most likely the result of my fall.

My mind became filled with images of workers striking material, each time they brought down their tools, the pain only increased. It became easy to identify with the nails forced into wood, stone shattered to liberate ore, or the chisel used to create a sculpture. After what felt like endless jolts, my ego had been removed; I was simply material to be worked on. I saw innumerable workers bring down their tools onto me. My mind wandered to the people doing the hammering, the smith fashioning metal into shape, the farmer tearing into plants, or a hunter harvesting marrow. They numbered in the millions, their strikes blending into an all-consuming vibration that was not merely loud. It was mentally deafening, vibrating my very soul.

The display of their collective might was humbling. To see all of the material they moved, to be that material, put into perspective just how powerful they were. The brush of artisans impacted their canvas, the sparkspeak technician's finger slammed into the signal key, a mother disciplined her child, and a teller diligently counted coins. The amount of information they moved was immense. I watched workers live and die, moving mountains throughout their lives. Mother nature seemed weak by comparison; her slow processes now seemed meaningless. Throughout this experience, I heard countless times people express the folly of "harnessing nature." How could such an all-powerful force be mastered? Yet, some seek to harness the power of these countless people. I watched their folly kill these people. Like a valve under too much pressure, their delicate governments exploded with the energy they sought to utilize.

I saw a spy return to headquarters bearing no fruit. I felt the crack of a whip, the withholding of food, and unspeakable tortures. As my identity returned, I felt the punishments I would surely experience. These were the masters he served, the people absorbed in trying to control this powerful force. How could I serve those who parade toward their destruction? Surely not, but the screams of the children conscripted to serve Verdant Grove were an effective counterargument. Why would anyone behave so inhumanly? I wanted to go back to the beautiful labor I saw. I begged, "Let me return to it!"

"Comrade, there is much work to be done," my assailant's deep voice wrenched me from the nightmare. He helped me up, "How would you like a job?"

I enthusiastically nodded, eager to make those sweet visions a reality. I was uneasy on my feet, having spent so long inside my head.

"Good, your first task is to clean up this mess," the man gestured to the disheveled office, now featuring shards of bone floating in pink fluid. When my hand instinctively reached for my head, it came back free of blood. The man chuckled and sat down in his great chair. Even though this event was years ago now, I often think back to it. Like a dream, that vivid experience had long since faded. The effect it had, however, has never left me. Once I knew the power that the people wielded, I could never return to that old life. The hammer is a fitting symbol for us.

Scythe

Ideology.

Lesser Weapons

There are a series of lesser weapons not made by Conditor himself. These weapons are still important and powerful, given that they are made from portions of Conditor's body. However, they are simply outclassed by the main twelve.

Name	Holder	Description
Conditor's Spear	Rhys Sanctra	TBA
The Burning Glasses	Port Arctette Guard	TBA
Persephone	The Cooperative	TBA