Acropolis 1.0 - Contests

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[Syl]
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Acropolis 1.0 - Contests

Post by [Syl] »

Post all contest entries here.

Contest 1 - Cartography
Winner: Antaka & Virelei

Contest 2 - Jurisprudence
Winner: No entrants

Contest 3 - Archology
Winner: Nyx

Contest 4 - Reciprocity
Winner: Virelai
Last edited by [Syl] on Mon Oct 31, 2011 8:36 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Post by Virelai »

Trolling in his mind through the various oral legends and myths of the founding of the city he had heard since his days in the cradle, Marziale chose the one to which he felt these barbarians could most relate. His connection to Song impossible to squelch, his recitation took on, while not a melodic chant, a rhythmic meter the warriors soon found themselves swept up in.
O!

Draw yourselves hither
And gather near
For the telling of tales
You seek to hear.

Tales of glory and wonders
Of challenges braved.
Of treasures and battles
And our people saved.

In days long ago
Ere the City’s walls rose
A clan traveled south
Through legions of foes.

They descended from Nord
A drear, desolate waste
Past mountains that tower
Towards a dream that they chased.

Their leader had dreams
Of a land rich and lush
While the land where they hailed from
Saw battle too much.

To the Oracle he spoke
And his Vision he told
Fate guided his course
Onward south went the bold!

Of Taeld the Dreamer
The legends speak thus
His word was his bond
There was naught to discuss.
Marziale took note of a stir among his listeners at the mention of Taeld, the city’s founder, but he continued on without pausing…
The mountains they conquered
Brothers lives claimed were few
Once crested the ridge
The view was all new.

The land how it beckoned!
All green and pristine
Among wonders discovered
Taeld took his Queen.

Her radiance shimmered
Taeld’s violent nature she tamed
As he wooed her he learned
Mosnyi was her name.

Her people did protest
“These coarse strangers must leave!”
For Mosnyi’s hand Taeld petitioned
Two lives did he weave.

Seven years did he toil
To prove his worth
His clansmen joined with him
Swords cast aside to till earth.

Yet her people refused
To accept change over time
Taeld’s petition denied
His culture a crime.

Taking sword back in hand
Taeld laid claim to his bride
Mosnyi trusted he loved her
And willingly stood by his side.

The battle ensued
Over rights to her hand
Mosnyi weeped at the damage
Her choice brought to her land.

The natives defeated
By barbarians bold
Taeld took his bride earned
Honored within his fold.

“We came here to leave
Battle behind us,” Taeld said.
“Join with us in joy
As Mosnyi and I wed.”

Her people pledged fealty
Though resentment remained
A capital far from her home
Was the next goal to be gained.

Further southward they journeyed
To the river they came
A jog westward revealed
Steep hills with no name.

The hills were explored
A plateau soon discovered
Bisected in half
Over which all were hovered.

Taeld here claimed his throne
Our City, Our Mother!
To Her we do pledge
Our Lives. To no Other!!
His tale completed, Marziale dropped his head in exhaustion. Let further talk of the deities of the City in general, and of Virelai in particular, await another day, should he live to see one. Hearing a general buzz around him, Marziale lifted his head to see the Chieftain approaching, still bearing the brand. Ah milady, he thought. I have failed you.

The Chieftain drew nearer, then walked past. Marziale could only assume a signal was made, as two warriors rose from the circle of listeners and joined the Chieftain behind him, who then moved back in front of Marziale. Handing the brand off to another, so Marziale’s face was well lit, the Chieftain regarded the priest of Song somberly. Then with a nod of his head, Marziale suddenly found his bonds cut and he slid off the shield in to the embrace of the Chieftain.

“Our own legends speak of the Lost Clan of Taeld the Dreamer,” the Chieftain muttered in Marziale’s ear. “Few of our people have ever braved crossing the range which separates our lands since. Those few who did and lived to return speak of easy pickings in settlements along the coast. Further south none have ever explored.

“That you know the ending to this ancient puzzle speaks well of you. Let us drink and feast at our new found kinship.

Brother!!!
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Post by Colu »

Shine



Rock



Water



Earth

...


Joining


Joining


Many joinings...



I am.


I shine.


I see.


I know. Once, I only was. Now, I know. I see. As the sterile globe changed, as it became complex, it caused me to change, to become complex. No longer merely a ball of flame.

Just as I have changed it, and caused it to become more complex.

I have watched the world's growth. I have grown with it. It could not be otherwise. Advancement causes advancement.

Tiny life none could see

Eons

Bigger life that could be seen

Eons

Changing

Eons

Leaving the sea

Eons

Leaving behind a direct need for me

Eons

Changing more

Eons


...

Now it is also aware of itself! As I am! I am not unique in this any longer. I still feed all. No life without me. But no longer the only one that knows.

Millennia

They gather. Many places now. Families. Groups of families.

Millennia

What is this? Many have gathered into much larger groups. And they work with... tools. They shape the world!

This group, by the sea. It is the largest of all. I will watch it. I will see what they will become, this city. I will feed it, so that it may grow. I will protect it.

I name it Aditya.

Aditya
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Post by Nyx »

Shawn speaks in the Heart of Darkness. Before him are the children of the faithful, who are here with him while their parents are off working.

"Mister Shawn? Where did Nyx come from?" asks Phoebe.

"Darkness has always been there, child. Just like the sun, birth, commerce, song, death and strife."

"Yeah, but... how come I'd never heard of Nyx and Surya before six months ago?"

"Ah, that's a longer tale, Phoebe. It's good your parents are working to clear the north wall today; we have time to listen to it all." he says. "Now, there's no official history of the gods. And some of what I'm about to tell you is... well... just me making assumptions based on what I've seen and heard in my travels. You all may not know this, but before I was a servant of Nyx, I was something else. Eric, what was that?"

"You were homeless, like we were?"

Shawn chuckles, "Yes, that's true. But before that, what was I?"

"Um... you were rich?"

"I wish. No, I was a sailor on merchant vessels. I did hard labor, carrying stuff onto ships, raising sails, lowering sails, all of that stuff. Nothing very interesting to talk about, but it did mean that I got to visit lots of other cities. And spend some time there getting to know their people. And here's what I think:"

"All over, there are lots of little gods. Even near here, you'll hear of the satyr of such-and-such grove, or the monster in some deep scary cave up in the mountains. And if a village were to spring up in that grove, that satyr would become more and more powerful. And so, when you go to other cities, you'll see huge temples to the city's patron god, who watches over the people and guides them. Of course, sailors everywhere worship Allod, though they give him different names sometimes. But our Acropolis is different."

"Maybe 300 years ago, I guess... some sailors were trying to get from somewhere to somewhere else, and had to put in during a storm. They found this river mouth that had a decently safe harbor by it, and whethered the storm there. And the next morning, they took a look around. They'd been going past the place for years, of course, and never really paid it any mind. But now that they were far into the river's mouth, instead of a ways out to sea, they saw more of it. They noticed how the mountains totally close the area in, and how it would be harder for people to attack it by land. They saw how deep the harbor was, and how wide the river. Some few of them must have been born of farmers before taking to the sea, because they noticed that the soil here was rich. Or maybe they found that out later? Anyway, they continued on about their trip, but kept this place in mind. And over the next few years they finally organized an expadition."

"They showed up with a few ships, filled with people and supplies. They built a fort, and living areas, and the port. If you look at the docks to the west end of the south side of the river, out by the tower where nobody wants to stay, you'll see it's the original piers. Most of the rest of that original stuff is gone now; upgraded for bigger and better stuff."

"Now, in those days, there were no real inhabitants here. Oh sure, a few small fishing villages up the coast a bit, and some small fur trapping places up the river a ways. They used the river to move around, but didn't really know about the rest of the world. But when old King Wenceslas, he was only Captain Wenceslas then, but when he got here and set up his fort, he quickly introduced them to civilization. And what's different about our city than all those other ones with patron gods is that they had their gods from way back. There was the god of that section of stream, and when people started living on that section of stream, the god got stronger. Then he used that strength to help those people get stronger still, and he himself grew strong. After many generations, it's a huge city with a huge god. And the god of the section of stream up the ways a bit would eventually get squeezed out, when the god of this section of stream's followers starts building more and more homes up that way."

"But here in Acropolis, we just up and decided to build ourselves a city. And the city started out pretty big. I think it was something like 500 people came here all at once, and started setting up places to live. They covered a lot of ground, and there were probably a lot of little gods around the place. But think of it this way... those other cities grew big partly because of the little things those little gods did for them. So the people would look to those gods for more growth, etc. etc. Around here, the city grew because we decided it should grow. Nobody thanked any gods for this, and no gods really grew strong as a result. Quite the opposite, really... the god of the north bank of the river atrophied and died because none of the people there even knew about him. They all knew about Lord Wenceslas, instead."

"But here we are, a long time later, and the city has been here a little while. Most of us here were born here. They city is all we've known, and it's pretty stable. So we look around for gods to believe in, and instead of the god of the north bank of the river, we see the sun. We see the darkness of the night. We see how a catchy song can bring a whole tavern together, or inspire two neighborhoods to start fighting. Those are the powers we notice in the world, and so those are what we start believing in."

EDIT - Changed "north" to "south" above (in blue) to integrate with another bit I'm going to write about current stuff in the city. I realized that the north side (being close to the trade district) would be wealthy, while the south side (being close to the shanty town) would be more run down.
Last edited by Nyx on Mon May 17, 2010 12:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Antaka »

Origins of the Acropolis

The spring sun set early over the Acropolis, summer’s long days not yet having come. Winter’s chill had lingered this year, and still rode the evening air. Many were the souls that had passed through the hallowed gates of Lady Death, many were the sacrifices offered up to her.

The priest sat cross-legged on the dark altar, little concerned with the propriety otherwise demanded in public display. Times were changing in the ancient city, new things rising and old ones falling away. New skills, new thoughts, new ideas.

And new stories also. Tales of the times before. Tales of the beginning of the city, each told as though the truth were known by all, as though what was wished had been. Tales that taught the antiquity of the gods, the superiority of creeds, the legitimacy of faiths.

Tales that were wrong.

But Kavya said nothing. Did nothing. Told no tales and bolstered no faith. Kavya did not care what was believed, and nor did his god. For Death was old before the city began. Death had walked the land since the first moment that that the first life knew it could end. Would end. Death walked the shadows that the first fires were kindled to keep at bay. Death knew. And so knew Her high priest also.

No grand revelation, no legend of glory, no great plan. Like all life the city grew from inconsequential beginnings, and would face an inconsequential end. The cities parks and gardens and plaza’s were built on the ruins of countless lives, and the memories of ghosts hovered thick in the air, and lay deep beneath its foundations.

From earliest times the river banks were home to those who found easy sustenance in the rushing waters and their confluence with the sea. Knappers of flint and carvers of wood and weavers of grasses. Caves in the nearby hills once sheltered the first tribes, and the oldest spirits were those of their conflicts for fishing grounds and shellfish beds, for the roaming herds of the grasslands. Wraiths left by petty little wars, before war was even known, and stone spear heads buried arms lengths deep.

And life went on through times of plenty and times of famine. Through peace and through conflict, the people were born and lived and mourned and died, commending their souls to Death, consigning them to what afterlife there might be.

And from caves grew shelters, and worked flint became worked copper, and tribes became conquerors, and tribes became slaves. And from populations came farming, and from farming, settlement. And settlement drew invasions, and banded together, then sent forth invasions in turn. And as more became required, so more was made, and worked copper became worked bronze, and settlements became villages, and villages towns, and people worked and lived and died.

And towns grew together in defense and in need. And stonework and brickwork and thatch met to hold Death at bay, and succeeded and failed in countless struggles as time sauntered by, indifferent to its price while bronze became iron and walls enclosed fragile life in a futile effort to slow its inevitable end.

No, there was no magic, no great mystery, no reason. The land was fertile. The food abundant, the mountains protective and the sea rich. Life flourished given the chance, and the city just an outgrowth of that. The inescapable result of man joining man for the chance to prosper in safety. The ceaseless ebb and flow of humanity made the city. No whispers of gods, no genius of man.

This pleased Kavya. No illusions for the priest of Death. The whispers of man brought the gods. Man’s fears, man’s dreams. But man had dreamed of Death longer than any other dream. And Death would walk the land until the last star burned cold, and nothing lived to dream.
For death begins with life's first breath.
And life begins at touch of death.
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Post by [Syl] »

Contest 4 - Reciprocity

Rules: Each deity is allowed to give one gift to the Acropolis, creating a tale of how it is created, presented to the people, received by them, and so on. Heroes may also present a gift, such as some relic retrieved on a quest, or whatever.

Players may also play off of each other's ideas, making a back and forth contest of it. In that case, however, the first poster is always allowed the last word.

Reward: The deity who gives the most appreciated gift (judged by me) will be allowed to choose one of the following:
1) The honor of naming the Acropolis
2) Making their gift an artifact
3) A lesser domain associated with their gift

Second and third places will be given, choosing from the remaining options.

Advice: There is no strict limit to the equivalent DSP of your gift, so please keep in mind the balance of the game in choosing your gift. It should be more in line with something the city is missing than something that changes its nature. I do reserve the right to revoke a submission or add an unintended consequence. For an idea of what I'm looking for, read this or this.

Deadline: July 31st, 11:59 EST.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Post by Virelai »

The heat practically dripped as Old Silas wandered through the Arts District, the former street urchin, Briar, at his side. Presenting Briar for apprenticeship to the Harper Hall had done the urchin a world of good, and it hadn’t hurt Old Silas’ status with the High Priestess when he introduced the concept of scribing rhythmic beats to the Hall. Amazing how far Writing has come from the placement of pebbles in the dirt by this one, the Master Harper thought to himself as he refrained from fondly rubbing the urchin’s head. It had been several months since Briar entered the Hall, and already some of his youthful innocence was fading with his new responsibilities.

Looking about, the Master Harper frowned at the conditions the artisans; guild affiliated and not, worked in. Stall upon stall of mini-stages and craft work were jammed together; street performers staking a prized yet crowded spot in which to work the crowd. Most of the potential patrons of the artisans hurried past the stalls, intent on locating what they came for and departing from the heat. “It takes an outstanding talent to prompt the masses to stop and notice what is offered or presented,” Old Silas commented to Briar. The lad solemnly nodded his head, and then added, “This is too hot and crowded. A shame they don’t have their own place to do this.”

The Master Harper stopped suddenly. “Do you mean someplace other than Circus Cassius, where Our Lady revealed herself to the Hall’s High Priestess? A place dedicated to peaceful pursuits and arts, yet able to accommodate a scheduled audience rather than the impromptu gatherings here in this District? You may be on to something there, boy.” And this time Old Silas did rub the top of his apprentice’s hair, the boy blushing crimson in response to his tutor’s praise.

Later that month Old Silas spoke to the gathered members of the Artisans Guild. “My brothers and sisters, together we can make a wondrous civic addition to our fair City. Let us build a gathering site for scheduled performances, away from the hustle and bustle of the market place and crowded streets. Let this site be a gathering place for impromptu meals between friends and family; a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and a song to wash it down with. Let it not be extravagant so we may donate our labor and materials and make it a gift worthy of Our Lady.

“And may she then smile upon our efforts.”

The guild was inspired by these words; many of the members themselves lived and worked within the cramped conditions of the Arts District. To have an area dedicated to scheduled performances, where one knew their turn was allotted and competition was put aside, appealed to many. The craftsmen planned to rim the circumference with a single row of stalls to be let on the day of a performance; with the agreement no distractible hawking would be done.

Plans were drawn, materials collected. Construction was undertaken and the Cliffside Amphitheater completed along the northern cliffs of the Garden District above the river. The day of the first scheduled performances approached and the lawn was filled with smiling patrons and families. The Royal Box above the lawn awaited its honored guests, but while it was hoped the inaugural performance would garner the attention of the City’s nobility it was not assumed that would be the case.

Everything was in place; the day’s performers warmed up and ready to entertain. The audience stilled in anticipation, and yet…

Here and there a baby cried or a child called out across the lawn to a friend. From the perimeter market the voices of several overzealous craftsman drifted across the lawn. The performers grew concerned. “Will the audience hear us?” they wondered. “This is not an enclosed arena like the Circus.”

I smile in response and allow a golden glow to fill the area of the amphitheater. To the mortal ear, the acoustics from the stage were suddenly perfected. The sounds from the perimeter remained within the perimeter; they no longer affected the performance. The expected rustlings of the audience were heard only by those who made them and the one intended to hear them; even their immediate neighbor on the lawn was unaware of the disturbance. When silence was required as part of the act, each audience member felt it innately; their release as sound once more returned as the performance continued evident upon their faces.

This perfect acoustic bubble lasts perpetually, though it is only active when a performance is ongoing. At other times the lawn is used as a park; a place of solitude for some, for exercise as children run up and down the incline, for enjoying a sunny day in the Garden District.

May this be the first of many such civic parks in our fair City.

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Post by Chime »

The city celebrated the victory over the barbarians with excessive style, or perhaps just with excess! Drinking establishments spilled their clientele onto the streets with inebriated abandon. Coins went further tonight than ever before, with most tavern keepers having inexplicably reduced their prices.

But these same ‘keepers were rubbing their hands with glee as their coffers overflowed from the sale of alcohol that they themselves had bought at ridiculously good prices. In The Rendezvous, The Facetor barely had room for all the gold that he had made selling the wines and ales to them. In the breweries and vineyards, the owners blessed The Facetor for offering them a fair price for their stock, when all had seemed lost and their wares destined for the parched throats of the invading barbarians.

In the more affluent areas of the city, tables groaned under the weight of sweetmeats and delicacies, and party-goers gorged themselves into gourmet repletion. Again (for the same reason), the prices had been most fair, and so nobody had stinted on their purchases!

The Facetor understood his god. A huge profit had been made, but the city had paid a price before the celebrations had begun. Therefore it was only fair that the profit be ploughed back into the city!

The Facetor sent out messages through the city. Those who had scavenged the battlefield were made aware that premium prices were being paid for the loot garnished from the defeated barbarian horde – especially weapons, breastplates, and helmets- anything made of metal. When sufficient quantities had been purchased, so began the long process of smelting them on Chime’s sacrificial fire at The Rendezvous.

Meanwhile, in the Trade District, deep foundations were laid and a lofty square tower built, higher than any other building in the city. When eventually complete, hundreds of the strongest men of the city were employed to raise Chime’s gift to its place at the top of the tower.

A gargantuan bell, forged from the weapons of the defeated horde, was installed. The end of the clapper was shaped into a replica of Chime’s coin symbol, and word was spread that the bell would remain silent until such a time as the city was under threat again, when it would ring out with wild abandon, filling the city’s foes with fear and its defenders with confidence, in the same way that Chime had helped win the battle against the barbarians.
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Post by Sybil »

Neera walked out of the Safe Haven, disgusted. "T-Bird? I don't know where he is. He would sometimes come here to talk with Funboy, but that's all I know." In the end, Darla had fainted from fright, and not said anything more helpful. The other woman had been even less helpful. And a moron, to boot.

As she stalked out the door, ignoring her surroundings, but lucky there was nobody waiting to attack her, she started to see… something. It hurt her head to see it, and she closed her eyes from the pain. Then, she could more clearly see what it was… sight, of a sort. As if she were flying over the city, skimming close to the tops of the buildings. As 'she' flew lower, she recognized the buildings of this part of town, and then she saw herself standing there on the street with her head in her hands.

She heard to her left, just where her 'vision' was centered, the call of a crow. She opened her eyes and looked up there, and was greeted with the confusion of looking at herself while she looked at the crow that was looking at her. The bird approached and landed on the sign over the Safe Haven's door, and cawed at her again.

She got the idea that the crow had something to tell her. Or show her. "Is it T-Bird? Do you know where he is?" The bird cawed once more, then took to the air again.

Neera managed to make it to her hiding place without mishap, then lay there with her eyes closed, and watched where the crow flew.

[My gift to the city is the crow, and the knowledge it grants me to make the city a better place.]

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Last edited by Sybil on Sun Aug 01, 2010 2:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Nyx »

Theresa strolled through the marketplace, near the artisan's guild. She saw the refugee women staying there, now visibly with child from their barbarian rapists. Barbarians, some of whom even now, were prisoners of the city. Some of the women had the stereotypical 'glow' about them, happy in the new life being formed within them, especially under the care of Diana's priests.

But a few of the expectant mothers had other expressions. These children growing within them were constant reminders of their shame, their violation at the hands of violent men who let them live only because they were thought unworthy of death after their violation. All their morning sickness and back pain were just more suffering on them by their attackers. And they did not look forward to being invalids for weeks before and after the birth, the excruciating pain of delivery, and then years of raising the children forced upon them by these enemies.

One woman put it best, in a quiet prayer to Nyx. "Goddess of darkness, grant me forgetfulness. Take away this pain, and the constant reminder. Do not make me raise the child of the man who killed my husband, the man who killed the children of my husband. I cannot take a lifetime of that misery, so please let that whole thing be consumed into your darkness and gone from my memory forever. It is not the child's fault, and yet I could not bear to spend my life seeing that rapist and murderer every time I looked into my baby's eyes."

Nyx heard these prayers in the darkness, from women who would never utter these words aloud. She spoke with Diana, and an accord was struck. The Goddess of Birth would help the pregnancies along, the women would be healthy and bring healthy children into the world. But once the children were born, and were out of Diana's hands, they would become Nyx' responsibility.

To the east of the city, up the river to where it exits from the mountains, is a spur of those mountains coming westward. There are caves in those mountains, some of which open from the western-most face of the cliffs, high enough up that from a clear night, one can see all of the city glowing faintly in the distance, and the moon reflecting off of the ocean beyond it.

There, Nyx caused the darkness of the caves to become secure, the shape of the tunnels themselves to shift, becoming warm and dry, and safe from predators. Some of the priests of Nyx, with visits from the priests of Diana, began to prepare the caves for habitation. When the children were born, they would be taken here and raised. Their mothers would soon forget about their rapes and their rape babies, and could put it all behind them and move on. But at the same time, the children would live on, raised in this orphanage, safe from harm, loved and cared for.

Theresa saw this and was pleased, but looking around the city saw that it wasn't enough. Soldiers of Aditya's armies dies during the fighting. Some with children who now had no parents at all. Other children were simply left on the streets to fend for themselves, when their parents died or left for other reasons. Theresa herself was one of these, and knew the hardships they would face. She spoke to all the children on the streets, and spread the word through her Sunset Sermons, that any child who wished would be welcome at this Orphanage, without question. If they were unwanted within the city, they would be welcomed amongst themselves in a place for themselves.

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Last edited by Nyx on Sun Aug 01, 2010 1:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Colu »

Lord Surya looked down upon the world during his journey across the sky. He thought of the barbarian horde that had recently tried to conquer the city. A horde that, it was believed, was but the tip of the iceberg.

I will protect Aditya, as I am able. But they are not helpless. They can protect themselves, as well. And I can help them. Forewarned is forearmed, and I will give them their warning.

Where... Where...


Surya looked along the mountain range that ran from the north to the south, east of the city, searching for a spot.

Utuvienyes! It is obvious. I will place my beacon there.

And a great ray of the Sun shot down from the heavens. It hit the mountains where they extend farthest west, at the bottom of the highest peak, and began carving the cliff. What once was sheer wall became a steep staircase.

When it reached the top, what was a pinnacle of jagged points became a flat surface, large enough for a house that could fit a small family. And on this surface, melted stone was shaped. When it cooled and hardened, there was a spire. Nine men would be needed to reach around it, so thick was it. And those men would have to stand on each others' shoulders to reach its top.

But strangest about this spire was its substance. It was stone, but not like the stone around it. Not like what it had been. It seemed translucent, though one could not see through it. And it danced with flickers of light. Surya had put his power into it, awating need.

When danger can be seen from here - coming from the north, or the sea, or the mountains, or springing from the plains closer to Aditya - the beacon can be called to life. It will send my power to the city, shining like another sun, warning them to prepare themselves.
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Post by Orlando »

My gift to the city is a fertile harvest. In celebration for the victory, the citizens of the Acropolis will be well fed in the winter months and their granaries shall remain full for the entire following year.
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Post by [Syl] »

As I settle in to work on results, I suppose I can announce the winners.

The citizens of the Acropolis have spoken. The most appreciated gifts are:

1st place - Virelai
2nd place - Diana
3rd place - Surya

Was very close between Chime and Surya. Surya's was just a little more... flashy. The bell stays, though it will need someone to ring it. Neera, you may use the crow's gift this turn. Nyx, you can have the asylum minus the shifting walls and so forth (good pic of Petra. alas, there's no holy grail in these caves).
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Fist and Faith
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Post by Fist and Faith »

8O I actually managed 3rd place? :D :D :D hehe

So what's the prize? Do I get to pick something? Or did you give me something? And, either way, what?
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
-Paul Simon
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

Syl wrote: Reward: The deity who gives the most appreciated gift (judged by me) will be allowed to choose one of the following:
1) The honor of naming the Acropolis
2) Making their gift an artifact
3) A lesser domain associated with their gift

Second and third places will be given, choosing from the remaining options.
So as soon as Virelai and Diana tell us their picks...
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Han-shan
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Post by Han-shan »

Yeah, sorry, I looked up to that post, but didn't get around to editing my post before you quoted that.

SO COME ON, LADIES!!! I wanna know what I get!! :D
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends.
- Han-shan

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
- Robert Frost

Today was a good day. - Ice Cube
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Post by Menolly »

Wow, thanks!

I had two people tell me privately I had won before I got here. But like being told I was pregnant with Beorn after six years of TTC with no luck, I didn't really believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.
(with Beorn, it was at the first ultrasound)

Autarch, please explain the making the gift an artifact.
Does the gift have the abilities already bestowed upon it without doing so? If so, how does a free outdoor public theatre with perfect acoustics become an artifact?

I am torn between two of the prizes. If you can explain how making the theatre an artifact would affect it, it will make the decision easier.

Much thanks.
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Post by [Syl] »

The theatre as a physical object will continue to exist, but if you do not take the artifact reward, this part will not:
I smile in response and allow a golden glow to fill the area of the amphitheater. To the mortal ear, the acoustics from the stage were suddenly perfected. The sounds from the perimeter remained within the perimeter; they no longer affected the performance. The expected rustlings of the audience were heard only by those who made them and the one intended to hear them; even their immediate neighbor on the lawn was unaware of the disturbance. When silence was required as part of the act, each audience member felt it innately; their release as sound once more returned as the performance continued evident upon their faces.

This perfect acoustic bubble lasts perpetually, though it is only active when a performance is ongoing. At other times the lawn is used as a park; a place of solitude for some, for exercise as children run up and down the incline, for enjoying a sunny day in the Garden District.
If you do take it as an artifact, this effect will exist in perpetuity.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Post by Menolly »

Ah...so the divine gift aspect does not happen, unless it is made in to an artifact.

Let me think on it a little.
Decisions, decisions...
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Han-shan
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Post by Han-shan »

Let's step it up! Isn't this what you had in mind when you entered it into the contest? Come on, I want to see what the two of you leave me!!
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends.
- Han-shan

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
- Robert Frost

Today was a good day. - Ice Cube
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