Epithets of Ylyoun

The city of Ylyoun could believe in any number of gods, but held with dogmatic rigidity to a scheme of the qualities of the universal man, an image so god-like as to make foreign visitors believe that there was a god behind it all along. The matter, codified by Honux Porphyrystomus, went thus: Men - Mankind - in their fullness could have ten supernal qualities, and their inverses. These qualities would be expressed by epithets, which would be appended to the names of citizens. This may have started as a practice among princes of Ylyoun, but would not remain exclusive to them. 

One might be:

• Victor [Ever-Conquering, Always-Conquering, All-Conquering]
  Which is, inverted: Never-Conquering
• Invictus [Never-Conquered, Conquered by None, Unconquered] 
  Which is, inverted: Oft-Defeated
• Opitalus, [Aid-Offering, Helper of the Needy, Bringer of Help]
  Which is, inverted: Never-Aiding, Unable to Help
• Impulsor [Impelling, Who-Drives-On]
  Which is, inverted: Who cannot Impel, Who makes no Progress, Paralysed
• Stator [Who-Stops-and-Stays, Bringer-to-a-Halt]
  Which is, inverted: Who cannot Halt
• Centumpeda [Stabilising, Establishing]
  Which is, inverted: Whose Establishments and Efforts ever Fail
• Supinalis [Overthrowing, Who-Throws-on-the-Back, Down-Tearing]
  Which is, inverted: Who may not Throw-Down
• Tigillus [That-Is-The-Prop, Upholding]
  Which is, inverted: Who-Upholds-Not, Poor-Prop
• Almus [All-Sustaining, All-Furnishing] 
  Which is, inverted: Who cannot Sustain, Who Furnishes None
• Ruminus [All-Nourishing, All-Feeding] 
  Which is, inverted: Who cannot Nourish, Who Feeds None

Thus: Thalamon Invictus, Polycene Stator, Hupon Centumpeda. The terms could be applied to foreigners: Sopespian Victor, Uvilas Tigillus. These were not strictly titles, to be possessed thereafter, but attributes, notable for a season or a spell. A soldier hailed one day as Ydumee Invictus might be killed the next day without those who hailed Ydumee feeling very foolish: the influence of Invictus, for whatever cosmic reason (or personal fault on the part of Ydumee) had clearly passed out of his life.

The epithets became symbols and artistic motifs, often personified. Due to the popularity of the epithets, scratched graffiti and other hasty markings rendered these in a number of simpler ways.

• Victor was a garland, or a figure in a garland.
  [Often shown as a broken circle of crosshatches]
• Invictus was a shield showing the sun, or a shieldbearer.
  [Often shown as a circle with a stylised sun]
• Opitalus was a jar of ointment, or a figure holding such a jar.
  [Often shown as a jar or rough cylinder]
• Impulsor was a goad, or a figure holding a goad.
  [Often shown as a straight line with a curving line emerging from one end]
• Stator was a trowel, or figure holding a trowel.
  [Often shown as a triangle with a right-angle bend emerging from the base]
• Centumpeda was a pillar, or a figure against or by a pillar.
  [Often shown as a shaft with a simple pedestal and capital]
• Supinalis was a leopard skin, or a figure wearing such a thing.
  [Often shown as a clump of small circles]
• Tigillus was a beam of timber, or a figure holding a beam of timber
  [Often shown as a horizontal, square-cut shaft]
• Almus was a cornucopia, or a figure holding a cornucopia.
  [Often shown as a curled horn]
• Ruminus was a breast or dug, a phallus, or - serving for both, as a vessel of liquid tapering to a point - an amphora; or, as it may be, a figure with any of these attributes.
  [Often shown as a V or U shape]

The scratch-marked epithets were used in a number of ways. Positively, the marks of Centumpeda and Tigillus might be stamped into brick or tile. Victor and Invictus would be cut into the backs of shields, and commanders of the armies of Ylyoun would consider it a poor omen (or, at least, indicative of poor morale and an absence of élan) if none of the scratch-marks appeared in an encampment before battle. Ruminus and Supinalis might appear joined as a coarse boast.

An erased or struck-through scratch-mark was a curse or threat. To daub a struck-through Stator on the wall of a house meant 'You will not stop me; this wall will not keep me out'. Lead discs with a defaced Ruminus were provided as a marker to curse another with infertility or impotence; if such a disc was split, it was presumably so much more malign a curse - though it would only apply if both halves could be inveigled into the target's possession. 

In later artwork showing the Epithets personified, the scratch-marks might even be incorporated as an abstract pattern - one moderately well-known example being the atrium frescos in the Treasury of Cyncybar.

Enestor of Bovrenna, it is recorded, once publicly opined that the Ylyounic Epithets constituted a set of emanations of the Creator God, the fount of all things, and that these had possibly even taken forms before men. He lost two fingers, an eye and three-quarters of his hair in the ensuing riot. The citizenry of Ylyoun are jealous of their epithets, and would not see them applied to the wrong target.

Ylyoun probably fits well with the city mentioned here. Maybe's that Ylyoun a few centuries down the line. 

The epithets used come from St Augustine of Hippo's De Civitate Dei, Book Seven. The neat assortment of the list struck me in a way like these Elementals.

A number of names have come from the Troy Book of John Lydgate (of Bury).

City of Libations

You must never call it a necropolis, for it is no such thing. It is merely the city where the dead dwell. No memorials, no tombs, no graveyards are to be found there.

The dead dwell there, and have a sense of obligation to the living. At set intervals through the year, therefore, the dead make offerings to them. Shrines radiate out from the city like the spokes of a wheel, set at the end of long roads of white stone. Before the shrines are gardens and covered arbours. The shrines themselves vary in ornament and detail, but not in form. There is a broad double door at the front, facing a back wall with a shallow stage. In the left and right walls are small doors, facing one another in line with the stage. It is usual for a bench to run along every wall other than the back.

Each shrine is associated with a village or the quarter of a town. The people of the region go to their shrine, which they furnish and decorate with painted patterns, geometric motifs and local symbols. Sometimes they sweep out leaves or cobwebs, but the shrines themselves remain curiously free of decay. 

On the days when the dead make their offerings, everyone in the village is meant to come. It is known that the very ill cannot or should not, and that women heavy with child may not - no stigma is attached to this. The misfortune of illness, the laborious necessity of childbirth and the empty gap in the year's cycle is considered burden enough. The wayfarer is not compelled to come, neither are they told what day is coming. A resident outsider, as a foreign merchant, may in time become part of the ritual. 

In the early morning, the village will rise, dress and march the long miles to the shrines. There, they do two things before entering. In the gardens before the shrine are set long troughs of rainwater, with which they wash hands, face and feet. Then, they sit to eat at long benches. The food varies with season and locale - but it is generally both portable and plentiful. Often it is cooked on fires in stone braziers. Flatbreads are not uncommon. 

Aside from the usual business of the daily meal, this has two functions. Firstly, it prepares the villager for the effects of a libation. The wine of the dead is strong and it is largely considered best to have something in your belly before you imbibe. Secondly, the wine of the dead is not of the living; it is otherworldly. Therefore, it is best to face it with a ballast of the mundane within you. There is the tale - invariably passed down from the teller's grandparents - of a lean season, and men eating balls of clay before entering a shrine.

When they have eaten, all enter. Those that tire readily are seated on the benches; most stand. The main door is closed and the shrine is lit only from high windows. after some time, the side doors open and the dead enter. A prominent villager stands nearest the stage, holding a large bowl. Unseen, the dead cross the stage, and moisture is seen condensing on the bowl. Eventually, the last of the dead passes by. In local tradition, this may be the newly departed, the oldest in recollection, the famously tardy, the notably dutiful or something else entirely. The bowl is now full and the side doors close.

Within the bowl is a strong, pallid wine. The taste has been compared to plum brandy. Villagers each extract a small travel cup from their clothing and advance to take a measure. Slowly or quickly, they drink and leave. It is consider well-mannered to pause briefly outside and see how your companions are doing, but this is not a place for conversation. The last out will close the doors and clear any remnants from the garden.

Curiosity is expected of men, and this includes villagers. It is quite common for a youth to walk a ways down the white stone road where the dead walk - but not generally on the day of a libation. Some eventually become brave enough to enter the city itself. 

Those who do report back on two things. Firstly, the white stone which makes up the roads is used for the houses as well. Secondly, the lack of any of the patterning and motifs that artisans would employ in houses or clothes or other worked items in the village. Third, the half-silence that moves in a slow bubble around them as they pass through the courts of the city. Fourth, the cypherbirds. Cypherbirds are seen outside of the city as well, but clearly make the city their home. From a distance they appear to be peafowl of a sort of drab cream colour. Those who actually make into the city have seen them fan open their tailfeathers, displaying inscrutable symbols on a pallid screen. No-one agrees quite what these mean; to the bold, they are pictograms of courage and strength - to the splenetic, they show spite and insolence. To the fearful, they confirm each contradictory fear.*

Those that go the deepest into the city report a taller building with three arched entrances at the front. No light can be seen from within these, nor any sign of a door or side passage. Some have thought this a vault; some a great meeting hall, some a temple. Faded glyphs cover the outside, which may be the same as those on the cypherbirds. 

Curiosity is expected of men, and this includes those not from the villages. Bandits, treasure hunters and bravos have long assumed that the city of libations has within it fabulous wealth. So, they attempt to cross the walls, avoiding the open roads of white stone and the shrines. They find themselves confronted by dense walls of cut thorn, rather like those reported on the savannah. However, these thorn branches appear to be petrified.  

If they can safely cross these, they must climb the walls, and then they must navigate a crowded cityscape of toughly-built homes and high walls. Further thorn clumps are found within. They will be followed - by the cries of cypherbirds, by swarms of insects, by dull roaring that may or may not be the wind, by footprints - and by the open eyes of the dead. 

You must never call it a necropolis, and tomb raiders are unwelcome. 

*   'To the melancholy this sound is melancholy and to the hysterical it is hysterical. To me it has always sounded like a cheer for an invisible parade.'
Flannery O'Connor writing in 'The King of the Birds' on the peacock. 

May-June Miscellany 2024

Naomi Mitchison,  The Corn King and Spring Queen

Can't say I was as taken by this as False Patrick, but still very good. It's an interesting comparison with (say) some of the character work of Rose Macaulay or the pre-occupations of some of C.S. Lewis's lesser known stuff. There's also probably a big wedge of Bloomsbury Group in there that I'm too uptight and square to properly grok. 

Comparisons aside, this thing is rich. Rich interior lives, rich in its extensive cast, generous in the scope of the plot, rich in description: it reads as the work of someone who has done things with their hands often enough to know about sewing or ploughing or hunting or dancing what have you - rather than the perspective of someone who only knows plate armour through a video game. 

***

Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars

I've had this for ages, but only just got round to reading it. Well worth it, and quite digestible. The photographic plates help. It's clearly a standout work in its field - Cf. what Wikipedia says as a general assessment - and I see why it was referenced in my university courses. 

Should you read it? Well, I think that if you're an Anglosphere type with an interest (academic or practical) in your history and culture, reading a few chapters from the first half would be very worthwhile - for religious ignorance reasons gestured at in some of my recent work. If you've read any proper history you can spot Duffy's focus and/or agenda, but that's not necessarily important. 

***

Lucan's Civil War or Pharsalia

Almost finished this at time of writing. Not one of the more prominent classical epics, but an interesting read all the same. Part of this is the subject matter: the clash of Julius Caesar and Pompey the Great after the former crosses the Rubicon. Familiar territory, even fictionalised - but not in the conventions of the epic. The civil war angle is not neglected, and the tragedy of events is clear. Added to this is the fact that it is describing real battles and troop movements, and largely leaves out Divine intervention, makes it rather interesting to compare with Virgil or Homer.

All that said, there are some thoroughly sensational moments. A carefully described reading of the entrails in Book One, a consultation of a Thessalian witch, Cato's army harassed by snakes. Is this the B-Movie of Classical epics? (Probably not.)

Another consideration is that Lucan was writing in the early days of the Emperor Nero. There's some praise for his ancestor Julius, though however potent Caesar is, Pompey gets the more enduring praise. 

'Pharsalia', incidentally, is the name of a battle between Caesar and Pompey in northern Greece, in the region around the town of Pharsalus (now Farsala). So I suppose you could call Lucan's Civil War something like The Battle of Pharsal County (which sounds rather American) or The Clash of Farsalmark (for something faintly Nordic). 

I read the translation by Susan H. Braund, but I've been comparing material elsewhere - including the Early Modern rhyming version by Sir Arthur Gorges, which may be found here.

***

Celine and Julie go Boating, dir. Jacques Rivette, 1974

Have you ever wanted to see what would happen if someone took late-period Tim Powers and made it significantly more French? Well, here's a good place to start. The mix of a contemporary setting and a supernatural house is arresting and well-executed - once you've got into the groove of the film.

***

Metropolitan, dir. Whit Stillman, 1990

Utterly unseasonal, though I didn't know that when I picked it up. A curiously touching film, though this is in part perhaps the result of living in a young city while being less than aged myself. There's some interesting currents in it - and I suspect the use of the tune to Luther's hymn Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott is no mistake.

***

The Mark of Zorro, dir. Rouben Mamoulian, 1940

Starring Tyrone Power. You don't need me to tell you this is good or influential and I won't try to comment on the sword fights. Other people can do that. 

What I think makes this worthy of note - and it's something I don't see discussed to the same degree - is the elements of disguise and secret identity. Don Diego Vega - the man they call Zorro - is deliberately concealing his motives and character, making himself into a ridiculous, useless fop. There are good reasons to do this, and Vega clearly has or had some frivolous facets to his character - but unlike Robin Hood concealing himself or the various versions of Bruce Wayne that have appeared on the screen, this is painful or costly in ways that aren't seen elsewhere. His father is openly contemptuous of him, his mother loves him but in a somewhat disinterested way, his old teacher barks at him and he must humiliate himself in front of his love interest and the villain. High literature this isn't, but the willingness to put a distinct social (psychological?) cost on his subterfuge gives this a bit more weight (Cf. Christian Bale getting to have his cake and eat it too as both playboy and vigilante).

Dr Syn dealt with this from time to time as well, though there things are complicated by the Vicar of Dymchurch's dark past. 

***

There's a poem of C.S. Lewis I encountered recently. It doesn't really apply to my post on Saturn, but it's certainly adjacent to the whole matter.

Anyway, from 'La Roi S'Amuse':

Jove gazed
On woven mazes
Of patterned movement as the atoms whirled.
His glance turned
Into dancing, burning
Colour-gods who rushed upon that sullen world,
Waking, re-making, exalting it anew –
Silver and purple, shrill-voiced yellow, turgid crimson, and virgin blue.

(Cue for music.)

It's a complex bit of rhyming, tricky to read aloud. Find the rest here. 

***

Sinjin - a new piece of work by Mateo Diaz Torres, who did Pilgrim. Again, available on Itch.io. Black and white artwork from a variety of artists.

Quote:

A century ago, the Black Heron College performed an experiment into the nature of Death and caused a great disaster. The site of this catastrophe came to be known as The Saint John Forbidden Territory.   

A hundred by hundred yawning miles of sawgrass, palmetto hammock, winding river, and overrun industry—all reclaimed by the Dead. In the territory, the land forgets itself, geography flexing and twisting like a straining muscle, the progression of days stuttering and jumping like a broken zoetrope.  

You are a freelance exorcist, compelled or driven to enter the Territory. You wield the remnants of Death's instruments: arts and tools left over from Her now-unfinished work. It is your duty to carry on against the growing disaster. The depths spread, and the Dead stand against you.  Put them back in their graves.

No Appendix N provided, but I would agree with other reviewers in detecting the influence of Garth Nix's Old Kingdom books and Annihilation. Though the overgrown sprawling abandoned Louisiana buildings of season 1 of True Detective kept springing to mind. Southern Gothic abounds. 

The territory itself is a limited space that keeps changing. As a region, it's probably no bigger than a county - but, as above, it contorts. The fixed landmarks are the same, but the connecting elements will shift - as will the climate. There's something of Darkest Dungeon in this, in which an opulent and imperial mansion has an improbable number of rooms. Indeed, it would be interesting to have something like a quartet of Sinjin-esque regions one could enter.

Sinjin is worth your time - though there's something that caught my eye. The setting is '19th century pastiche not-Florida' - there's the implication of a state outside it, and several regions are mentioned, including the San Serafin of Torres's New Barbary setting. This has the side effect of making me think of what lies outside Sinjin. The organisations that send you into the territory are these slightly-too parallel groups of exorcists. 

Part of me itches for...well, A) a sketch of geopolitics and cultural shockwaves and B) asymmetry. To explain on the latter - the differences and clashes between groups and styles in the territory: professional and amateur, government and private, religious and secular, cautious and imprudent. But this is a very particular issue and should not put anyone else off.

Faufreluches: O Sister, where art thou?

The eye-catching, vaguely-uncharitable and banally-provocative title of this post being something like 'Your Sisters of Battle suck - HERE is why!'

The Sisters of Battle - the Adepta Soriatas - are one of the more characteristic factions within Warhammer 40,000. A militant order of space nuns, zealous enforcers of the Imperial Creed, simultaneously the strong right arm of the Ecclesiarchy and those who once purged its overlord. 40k being the size it is, they seem to have leaked over into other properties, influencing things in the same fashion as the wider Warhammer look and approach did. I doubt, for one, that the Vestal of Darkest Dungeon (ostensibly more of a piece with Warhammer Fantasy) has quite such a confrontational look without the Sisters of Battle.

Behold, said Vestal.

This extends, of course, to other GW properties - Mordenheim's Sisters of Sigmar appear after the introduction of the Sisters of Battle, and serve as a localised fantasy pastiche of their Far-Future predecessors. I don't mean to suggest that the Sisters of Battle are somehow unique, mind you. They stake out a corner of the ground within which lies Paladin Girl. Indeed, they aren't even the only Pulpy Battle Nun creation of the 1990s. Other forerunners are the Fish Speakers of the later Dune books and the Vestal Vampires of Termight in Nemesis the Warlock.

Of course, the icon of the 41st Millennium is (for better or worse) that horrifying merger of rifleman, astronaut and templar, the Space Marine. The Sisters were left rather adrift for many years. No new models, no new rules, far few books. Yet they kept making an appearance, and it's difficult to imagine the Grim Darkness of the Far Future without them. 

But, while you may have an image of a Sister of Battle in your mind right now - and it may be a detailed and characterful image - it may well be the only image. Further: how many of their characters can you name? How many can you tell apart? Certainly, the various fan projects, art and discussions one encounters (that is, those trying to not to drift too far from the canon...) seem to stick to a fairly narrow stereotype. Even if their miniatures line may have been expanded, I would suggest that we don't have enough models of the Sisters.

Nothing but Joans of Arc, as far as the eye can see.

Why is this? Well, we might point to the mantle of zealous enforcers given to the Sisters. If they are in that role for (quote) 'the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable' it should be no surprise that they are rigid and unvarying. Further, the Ecclesiarchy has more obvious centralising, uniform cultural tendencies that other Imperial factions - both as a matter of in-universe lore and in the wider parodic-satiric aspects it bears. (This overview of an old Sisters codex rather concludes that the Ecclesiarchy-themes and material rather dominate any separate identity the Sisters might have.)

The answer of 'Misogyny' is a little pat, but not necessarily untrue. I don't have the background or knowledge base to properly consider that, but I'd feel foolish not mentioning it. 

There's another aspect, which requires a bit of explaining. I'm going to propose three types of variation for a group principally portrayed as tabletop miniatures, as the Sisters. 

• Football-Strip Variation
• Plurality Variation
• Top-to-bottom - or, more aptly - Cap-à-Pie Variation

Football-Strip Variation is easily explained. Different paint schemes, as developed by individual modellers or suggested by the publishers of the model line. This can even by facilitated by things like transfers with different symbols on.

Plurality Variation is where many but not a majority of elements of the model - and the character represented - are changed. A distinct likeness to the original remains. A sub-faction would be well-represented by this, but a sub-faction can exist with only a few additional models being Plurality-Varied. Both individual modellers or the publishers of the model line could create this.

Cap-à-Pie Variation is top-to-bottom transformation. If we are producing a Chapter of Inca-inspired Space Marines, there will be significant sculpting to add Incan details to their armour. This is really something only individual modellers could do: if the publishers of the model line do this, then the something new has like as not been created. Grey Knights are no longer Space Marines. (Shut up, you know what I mean.) 

All these forms of variation can be seen on (say) fan art as well as in modelling. 

(Incidentally, if a passing semiotician or theorist of aesthetics wants to tell me that there are existing terms for all this, I'd love to hear them.)

Football-Strip Variation is always very likely. A different colour scheme is a simple process. Likewise, I think that there will always be a sprinkling of people who want to go all in on customisation and will produce Cap-à-Pie Variation. 

But I think that Plurality Variation is harder to produce, and is more important for producing a broad range of images for a given line of models. Smith painting Space Marines teal and burnt umber is just teal-and-umber Space Marines. Smith painstakingly converting Samurai Orks or Tau using Necron weapons is just Smith's Samurai Orks. There's a certain point between the two necessary for breadth.

Hence, for instance, the Space Marines. This portion of an interview with Gav Thorpe details the core theme of four Chapters who received Plurality Variation - who could then be taken as a model of (EG) the Unorthodox going forward.

And this ties into something greater. Let's go over some Imperial factions. 

• Our Plurality Variations of Space Marines are those of Warriors - Vikings, Mongols, Arthurian Knights, Plains Indians. Easy to gasp, easy to add to.

(If you encounter a Plurality or Cap-à-Pie Variation which is very clearly drawing from 20th or 21st century military looks, then it's almost certainly resting on 'Special Forces imagery' - which hits the individual and self-directed elements of the Warrior concept . Cf. The various remarkably code-named characters of Metal Gear Solid, et al.)

• Similarly, our Plurality Variations of the Imperial Guard are Soldiers - generic Western NATO types, the Red Army of WWII, Desert Rats, Redcoats, a deliberate mix of everyone in the Vietnam War (except the French). 
• Inquisitors and their followers are, as discussed elsewhere, to some degree professional PCs. Variation is in-built. 
• The tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus are relatively new to having their own faction. But we have multiple instances of characterful, varied tech-priests over the years. They are, to put not too fine a point on it, Nerds (their basic Skitarii infantry are even goggle-eyed and stick-limbed!) and Mad Scientists of which there are variations a-plenty. A whole cult of Victor Frankensteins.

But when it comes to the Sisters - there, we falter. A majority of players/fans/[other] can't provide Plurality Variations of clergy. Our images of religious life are far too limited.

At this point, you might be saying to yourself 'I can imagine all sorts of priests and monks! Haughty Bishops, serene Buddhist monks, Hellenic pagans reading the entrails, ranting Televangelists, mild Vicars, knowing melancholic Rabbis, gold-sickled druids, Hindu ascetics...' 
    Or, for that matter 'I can conjure up a Sister with inner doubts, a Sister who is hiding a bitter loss, a Sister who rejoices in slaughter, a Sister who is enthusiastic about a particular period of poetry....'

This doesn't quite work, of course. The former is far too broad for Plurality Variation; the latter is perfectly good, but off the peg rather than tailored to fit. Compare the proposed Dwarves in Paras 4-6 here. It also runs the risk of the wrong emphasis: consider those adaptations of Chesterton's Father Brown that make him a detective who sometimes says a Mass, rather than a Priest who solves crimes.

I recognise that this is not a new complaint. Neal Stephenson was writing about a lack of religious knowledge and empathy in the aftermath of the Waco siege in the essay 'Blind Secularism'. Less loftily, my praise for Fading Suns had some of this in it. But I will maintain it all the same.

"That's some lovely Polymorphonic Carbon there, be a shame is something happened to it."
Image found in this article on Emperor of the Fading Suns.

[Incidentally, what would this a comparable Plurality Variation look like for Sisters? Well, to point to the Imperial Guard, we have standard khaki-and-rifles army men, scrappy irregulars, heavy-coated gas-masked trenchfighters, troopers for various environments and troopers in dress uniforms.  One would seek at least this level of visual difference, whatever the extent of different characterisation.

Thus, we might suggest Sisters in very plain, functional wargear. Perhaps this Order frequently serves as missionaries, cut off from the normal supply lines. Their devotion to the Emperor is that of loyal servants: ornament and honour is reserved for the altars and reliquaries.

(This is, to be clear, an outline of a sort of order, that a player can tailor closer to fit their preferences. And, of course, they likely aren't only missionaries.)

An obvious contrast is found with a highly ornamental Order, dripping with devotional iconography and decorative elements, drawing heavily on the familiar work of John Blanche. There may be a sense of affective piety among them, stressing a sense of emotional connection to the Emperor - and a willingness to endure his pains. Cue the hairshirt, and other forms of mortification of the flesh. Conspicuous piety of this kind makes them a natural fit for the centre rather than the fringes of the Imperium.

There is also the Sister as enforcer and observer - a Praetorian Guard at the side of a Cardinal, as ready to defend them as to purge them. There's a stress on formality, purity and observation. Think of them drawing from the iconography of the black-and white wimpled and veiled nun - and the black-suited white-shirted secret service agent. Starched white veils concealing high-tech surveillance gear. Gleaming bolter muzzles peaking from under broad black cloaks.

Finally, we might consider an image of the witchfinder. An up-armoured, imposing figure, with exotic weaponry - to both even the odds against the rogue Psyker and, possibly, to take them alive. We might see touches of the SWAT team in them. The inclusion of some in Capotain 'Puritan' hats would be a familiar touch; some of the ferocious elements in the design of the Sisters of Silence might also be apt.

Missionary, Celebrant, Enforcer, Witchfinder. Two outward-facing, two inward. Two plainer, two ornamented. One practical, one passionate, one reserved, one pugnacious. Perhaps this works.]

All very well, though it's unlikely that Games Workshop will come knocking at my door any time soon. So how do I apply all this in my own feudal future  - faufreluchaen* - setting?

+++

Quote:  The Regent knew that Mankind was Changing. The Pastorate are there to make sure that Mankind knows it too. Teachers, counsellors, ritualists - bearers of the vision for all mankind.

As that suggests, the Regent isn't quite viewed as a deity. But a mediator? A prophet? An intercessor? Well, he's managed to be all of those things. Then panegyrics of his own life - and half-life - positioned him as a tool of destiny - undeniably blessed - chosen by chance, by fate - by the universe - by existence itself. This isn't damnable, or even strictly wrongheaded. It may be a misconception, but the Pastorate would rather work with misconceptions that not work at all. 

Established terminology: Ministers as the base representative of the Pastorate, headquartered in temples. Training to occur in seminaries. Witchfinders ('The Office of Detection') and Wardens are among the Pastorate's paramilitary arms. Arch-Pastors to oversee large cities (and their hinterlands), Metropolites to oversee star systems. Typically 'black-clad'. The name of the Regent is repeated once a terrestrial year in the ceremony of the Perennial Obituary. 

So far, so loosely sketched. How do we draw this out into Plurality Variation? 

Well, as Fading Suns, we might have sects still roughly bound together. We should avoid, however, an idea of castes or specialised departments. What we have are circles and networks. Ministers and Pastorate officials align into informal groups - which harden into societies - which put their members to work - which develop talents and specialities - which grow in influence and dominance over a certain discipline, or a certain province, or a certain system. 

It would be very rare for every minister on a fully-settled planet to be of one Circle. It would not be rare for Nine out of Ten Senior Ministers, Arch-Pastors, Seminary Heads or Provincial Pastorate Clarks (PPCs) to be of a Circle.
    It's not quite like being a member of a monastic order (though of course certain Ministers may take certain life-long vows and gather into communities governed by a certain rule), or a political party (though of course Ministers can play politics), or a social clique (though naturally Ministers have a social life). But it's not not like those things.

Time for some examples. 

The Journeying Circle - Have their roots in travelling Ministers, of the first days of the Pastorate. They are no longer mendicants, but continue to use the iconography of travel. This covers devotional literature, rhetoric, art and dress - wide-brimmed hats, robust boots, clothing cut to accommodate space suits even if they never leave their planet. 

They make significant efforts to unearth Psychics, and when they find them spend a lot of time minutely recording their actions within isolated, specially prepared cloisters. 

Their advice and instruction focuses on the constant effort to move forward and develop.

Journeying Circle institutions include the Pilgrims' Sodality, the Geofric Monks, the Seven-Path Trust and the Saiph Sector Pastorate Journal and Record.

The Lector Circle - Prioritise teaching and knowledge, in both the Circle's own lodges and in public libraries. Keen educators, omnivorous readers - irritating know-it-alls, inflexible disciplinarians. A notable mark of a Circle member is the wide lattice-patterned collar; some may carry the flat 'scribe's satchel'. Many will carry the flat square string of Mnemonic beads; each bead is set with a series of Lectorine shorthand marks that allow the carrier to readily recall a long block of text.

They focus both on teaching themselves, on enabling teaching, and on regulating what is and isn't taught.   

Their advice might typically focus on programmes of study and specialist instructors. 

Lector Circle institutions include the Agatho Development Commission, the House of Learned Repose and the Amaranth Echelon.

The Beacon and Banner Circle - can be directly traced to a Minister of the world Bagdemagus, Belisar. He is now 'Celebrated Belisar' in the Pastorate's Glyptotheque of Notables, where slabs of the native rock of their home worlds bear the names and great deeds of those the Pastorate considers the best of humanity. Belisar was chronicler and companion to the Paladin Chrysogon. The Beacon and Banner Circle follow his example, tracking the Paladins that emerge from the Massif, cultivating ties with the Maiors and recording the words and deeds of Paladins past and present.

If not actively tracking a Paladin or agent of the Palace, they will hold revivalist meetings, focussing audiences on their bonds to distant Terra.  Psychics they encounter are left to roam freely, though they are constantly watched. 

Their advice deals often with exemplars or inspirational narratives. 

Beacon and Banner institutions include the Guild of Esoteric Methods, the Yeomen's Benevolence Society, the Rifle-Sisters of Rigel and the College of Celb. Mavrasar.

+++

That's likely enough to give some flavour of what could be apt. The comparison with the Sisters of Battle is loose, I know, but it struck me as a worthwhile exercise all the same. The Circles described above are a bit squishy - but it offers opportunities to focus in on a specific example, which can then be backed by the wider body.

*Semiurge's work is generally good; it is especially nice when it is inspired by my own work!

The Rest of All Possible Worlds: The Majestic Vision and the Soul

A few terms:

As laid out in the Words of Procophon, those who subscribe to the Majestic Vision envisage a process of progression through the afterlife to a place of rest. The language of the Words is of course, rather different to modern languages in Calliste - literally older, and not from the same common Horatione family. 

Thus below, we have the various portions of the self - as referred to in the Words, in common, idiomatic parlance and titled under the way they might be referred to in a Schoolman's address in the vernacular. Depictions of the portions of the soul in secular contexts or discussed in later scholarship use the language of the Words.

The Majestic Vision's Halls of Learning are not, commonly, highly decorated spaces - beyond a few Beatific Flame motifs. Still, depictions of the soul are found in them. A small but well-kept Hall for a Reader from the School of Malicarn might have one main central room (perhaps high-roofed enough to have columns and side-aisles). A main entrance is at one end and a rostrum at the other. Behind a lectern at the rostrum will be lampstands and a bookcase with copies of the Words and other useful texts. Hall furniture is generally finely-made, if not outright elaborate. (Other common features might be a Reader's office, a porch, a series of study cells).

Any images - of Procophon and Cnoh, of various famous Schoolmen, or of the figures described below, are likely to be found on the walls of central room (if the rostrum is at the north end of the building, they will be on the east and west). Music and drama are not common in the various Schools, but recitations of certain texts (to various degrees of elaboration and ornamentation) is well-known. Popular, but not always meeting with Magisterial approval, is the 'recitation with images' where pictures, tapestries and painted screens are lit and displayed while a number of performers chant segments of some apt text - including, perhaps, the Distant Inheritance.

The Journey of Significance to the Distant Inheritance was first written by Magister Bulstrode of Tanguysland. It is a great allegory of the journey of the soul through the hereafter to a place of comfort, wealth, strength and belonging - featuring a party of travellers with their own unique characteristics getting into trouble with assorted bandits, bureaucrats, tricksters, obstacles and demons.  The plot begins with a man receiving news that he has come into an inheritance in a distant land. He requests leave of his aged master ('Master Cadaveri' or 'Sir Corpus' or similar) to go forth and pursue it.

Of course, relatively few people actually read Bulstrode's Distant Inheritance: it has been edited, abridged, localised, translated, illustrated, vetted, retold, serialised, adapted for recitation and glossed so often that it may be considered a specimen of folk tale, or possibly a highly specific sub-genre: 'a Distant Inheritance narrative from Myrchonog features an episode unique to the region, in which....'

Callistan art may depict the figures below in single portraits or in ensembles. Single portraits would be considered the basic, simple option: not necessarily lesser, but easier for a middle-of-the-road artist to get right, fitting to display in more spaces, less obviously prestigious. 

The applicability of all this to matters of magecraft is that the Majestic Vision has been the intellectual influence on Callistan society for centuries: older texts will refer to it frequently, as will self-consciously old-fashioned newer ones. The Great Bifurcation can't undo that.

***

Portions of the Soul-Entire

The Body

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... an old man.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Paleoangos

Referred to in common parlance as ....  Old Flesh

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... Silent or senile.

The body that was, and shall be discarded. A minor figure in the narratives of the Majestic Vision, but omnipresent in artwork.

The Soul

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... a deliberately plain everyman.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Psyche.

Referred to in common parlance as ....  Ghost (often my Ghost, your Ghost, John's Ghost).

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... Sincere but occasionally wayward protagonist.

That part of the soul with the greatest volition, the greatest connection to the human experience of decision-making

The Life-Image

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... a (frequently nude) man in the prime of life, with major or long-lasting injuries marked in red on his body.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Eikonosoma.

Referred to in common parlance as ....  Loyal Remnant

Personality in the Distant Inheritance.... Restless, Driven by appetite, Instinctive, Strong

The deeds of life upon the body are recalled by the travelling soul. Even if the soul is no longer embodied, ideas of body-like action persist in the form of the Life-Image. 

Embalmers and related trades will strongly suggest that a better Life-Image will be produced if their services are retained. 

A hand-coloured stylised monochromatic print of the Eikonosoma.
(Image is the 'Physical Instrument' Skill from the video game Disco Elysium).

The Shadow

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... a hooded figure.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Exoriaphoreus.

Referred to in common parlance as .... Shame

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... Melancholy, Wry, Tempting

Despite being referred to as 'Shame,' The Shadow is all those things that a person has consciously rejected in themselves: not necessarily just base or vicious elements (though there is obviously the presumption by wider society that one should shun those impulses). 

For a celibate hermit, it might contain lust of the flesh; for an assassin, mercy; for a convert or other defector on grounds of principal, their former allegiance; for a former gambler, gambling. The thing rejected has to be a significant part of someone's self - not a season's fashion or an adolescent crush. 

The Social Being

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... an older man clad in formal clothing (either a literal or figurative uniform), frequently with assorted medals or other honours. 

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Nomothete.

Referred to in common parlance as .... Glory (often 'Mister Glory', 'Sir Glory', 'Great Glory', &c.)

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... generally proud and vain, though potentially quite personable and even protective. He varies the most with adaptation: possibly anxious and concerned with proprieties, possibly smug and self-satisfied, possibly boastful and hierarchical.

The part of the self that developed in response to or is enveloped by or even made by social laws and norms. Not purely meant to be a negative influence on the Soul, but clearly something of lesser relevance in the hereafter.

A popular belief is that the Social Being returns to monitor the deeds of their descendants, peers and those they have been generous towards. This meets with either the discreet silence of the Schools or the active condemnation of what is seen as ancestor worship. 

A hand-coloured stylised monochromatic print of the Nomothete.
(The 'Authority' Skill from the video game Disco Elysium).

The Sensibility

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... a lantern-bearing angelically androgynous figure.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Pneumaphos.

Referred to in common parlance as .... Soul's-sense.

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... calm, hopeful, gentle but persistent. The most obviously affectionate portion of the soul. 

The sight of the soul: that which allows the Psyche to cast his sight forward up to the Majestic Vision. Not a mute quality, but one more associated with emotions than with precise speech.

The Forerunner

Frequently depicted in Callistan Art as .... a human-headed bird.

Referred to in the Words of Procophon as .... the Eidolon.

Referred to in common parlance as .... the Soul-Scout

Personality in the Distant Inheritance .... Musical, high-minded, mercurial, occasionally deployed as a deus ex machina.

The questing spirit, the spear-tip of the spirit - perhaps the most rhapsodised portion of the Soul-Entire, because in the Words and the records of the Schoolmen, it is by the motion of the Forerunner that miraculous power is wielded in this life. Of course, anyone trying to focus purely on this one spiritual muscle (as it were) is pursuing the Majestic Vision in such a way as would produce miracles.

Religion is somewhat out of focus in TRoAPW, but I felt like providing a little more detail to the Majestic Vision. Not an essential feature, but hopefully interesting all the same.

Eight Pious Arachnids

1. During the years of strife, the Prophet Erimon was in the service of Argoz, High Prince of all Letarmine. When Erimon failed to obey Argoz in a matter of the interpretation of his dreams, he threw Erimon into a dark stone pit which contained giant spiders, there to be devoured. The seal of Argoz was placed over the pit, and Erimon was left there. But Erimon despaired not, and a veil of light was placed about him, and he sang of the Highest Heavens. When Argoz came to re-open the pit, he was shocked to see Erimon alive and well; he had even taught the spiders to make gestures of blessing, and to stamp their feet as if they were at the Festival of Palm Fronds. Great was the astonishment and sorrow of the High Prince!
2. The blessed hermit St Arilan is said to have cast aside his possessions to take up a life of prayer and contemplation, living in peace with every beast of the earth and bird that steps upon the winds. However, the Hagiographies speak of him dressed in plain robes, for in the land of Rhoopagno the winters can be cold indeed. Rhoopagno tradition holds that these robes were woven for St Arilan by spiders that visited him in his cave; however, research by ecclesiastically-approved natural philosophers has demonstrated that this would be quite impossible.
      It is far more likely that the spiders provided thread with which the Saint was able to sew together the bolts of cloth given to him by the charity of the region. This does not stop tailors and weavers in Rhoopagno from dressing up as spiders on the Eve of St Arilan. Moreover, it is a custom of the region that every bobbin should have carved into one end an eight-legged image of a spider.
3. The War of the Chalcedony Kings kept the pious daughters of the sage Octesian from maintaining his tomb shrine in a proper fashion. The tomb was of course complete, but the Ten-Day Seal had not yet been set in place. They were driven from their lands under the Caustic Edicts. However, when finally peace settled again over the land, they were able to return. They rejoiced, but were saddened that the tomb was still unsealed: creeping things could have entered the tomb, and flies - which, as any reputable sage will tell you, are merely a curdling of the Widdershins Force. 
      Yet when they reached the tomb, they found that no fly - neither the gadfly, nor the horsefly, nor the cranefly - had entered that place. All had been blocked by the webs of a benevolent spider - who was, through sad circumstance, better able to manifest the virtues of filial piety than the daughters of Octesian.
4. By the accounts given in the Hymns of Drinian, the 11th Avatar of the Preserving Sovereign appeared on the Fifth Day of the Sixth Month, mounted on a heavenly steed. The steed took the form of a great spider of marble countenance, but four of its legs terminated in gold hoofs, like the hoofs of a mountain goat, and four of its legs terminated in bronze talons, like the talons of a forest hawk. Each of its eyes had the colour of a flawless pearl; the chittering of its mouthparts was like the temple sistrum and it span indigo silk to cover the body of the Avatar. This spider could run faster than the pheasant-flighted arrows shot by the Passarid Mothers and of all earthly foods would eat only dates and scallions.
5. One summer month the hero-sage Mavramorn began a series of extreme ascetic exercises, designed to purify her soul. She threw down bow and spear, and retreated to the woods. She forsook the company of all comely youths and sweet-mouthed singers, deigning not to even look upon them. Even when not in a period of fasting, she would pluck a berry from a bush and then wait an hour and a half before consuming it. Her days were spent in prayer and meditation. 
      Beyond the woods were she did this, however, demons descended from the mountains, riding upon war-wagons pulled by tusked swine. Mavramorn knew of their presence, for her eyes saw clearly after her asceticisms. But she was bound to remain in the woods. Then, one afternoon as she sat in contemplation under a tamarind tree, a spider with its own notions of defence policy bit her upon the tricep. Mavramorn let out a highly unpleasant oath and batted at it. Having spoiled the effect of her ascetic exercises she sighed, sorrowing exceedingly, and went to retrieve her bow and spear.
6. The maiden Prismia dwelt upon the farm of her father, a heathen. Her wish was to enter into a convent, yet her father wished her to make an advantageous marriage to the son of another heathen landowner. She sighed at this, and her sighs were lifted by a passing angel to the ear of the Pancrator. The Pancrator then caused a message to be taken to a certain spider in the barn of Prismia's father. One morning when Prismia woke, she saw that the spider had written the first two-thirds of the Sistine Creed in a vast web in the barn door. Her father was baffled, enraged, and then bowed to the inevitable.
7. When Uvilas was driven from the city of Miraze, he fled to the rocks of Belisar, there to shelter among the jagged boulders. He reached the rocks and found a place to lay his head but was stricken by a fever and lay among the boulders for a month. No food had he, and only dew to quench his thirst. Yet spiders among the rocks came and found him stretched out and still and fed him on certain roots and berries and nourishing gums of that region. Therefore, no man of wisdom and respect goes among the rocks of Belisar, in memory of the sustenance given to Uvilas. 
8. A bravo of the city of Glozellea was lounging near the Plaza of Fractured Stars. He spotted a fair maiden of sound health and radiant beauty passing by, and called out to her "Fair One! One whose hair falls like blossom! Tarry a short while. I have a sack of newly-roasted beans, but none to prepare mocha for me. Use those long-fingered hands, quite devoid of imprisoning rings, to prepare a brew of pleasure for us both!"
      The maiden hissed at him like an irritated cat, and directed her chaperon to make the signs of scorn and vexation towards him. Puzzled, the bravo slumped against a wall. A spider descended from a web and began to laugh at him "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"
      "Why do you mock me so?" said the young man. "Surely you know I could crush you beneath a boot-heel."
     "I merely thought," said the spider "that when my kind mate, the man has his head bitten clean off. It struck me as funny that you run so fast into the arms of your doom. Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"
     The bravo, hearing this, resolved to live a healthier and more circumspect life.

Of Chalices and Choices

You are a Square-Jawed Adventurer. You have been seeking the Sacred Cup. 

You are in a Mysterious Cavern filled with Goblets, Chalices and Other Vessels. Most are made of gold. One is made of wood. There is a stone bowl full of clear fresh water. There is an Ancient Guardian clad in dusty armour watching you closely.

Your Duplicitous Adversary has drunk from one of the gold goblets and died horribly. 

There is a Loved One outside the Mysterious Cavern who urgently needs the healing properties of the Sacred Cup.

What do you do?

1. The Holy Man who used the cup was a simple man who spurned worldly things. You reach for the wooden cup.

1a. .... wait. This wooden cup is too simple. It flatters your modern Bauhaus-influenced Protestant-inflected norms with its cleanness of line and distinctive lack of ornament. 

1ai. No. There can be only one Sacred Cup, there is only one wooden cup. It is the clear exception among all those present - the only golden cup you have seen used caused your Duplicitous Adversary to die horribly. It's the wooden cup.

1b. ..... wait. The Sacred Cup is a metaphor.  The divine needs no such physical vessels, only conceptual ones, which the enlightened may transcend. You don't need the Sacred Cup, all you need to do is to seek it, If you truly do that, all blessings will be with you and you may bestow all blessings. Thrumming with new found power, you smile politely at the Ancient Guardian and turn to leave.

1bi. But if all blessings are with you, do you even need to leave the Mysterious Cavern? You kneel, and begin to think about your Loved One in perfect health. Surely they will soon be healed. 

The Ancient Guardian is watching you, expressionless. 

1bii. Hang on, your Duplicitous Adversary just drank from a cup and died in a clearly supernatural manner. There is a man in there wearing medieval armour who just addressed you in fluent Old French. Metaphor, my eye. Time to go back in there and pick a bloody cup. 

2. Hang on, you're a scholar. You've....

2a. ...seen reliquaries before. You inspect the gold cups. One is quite bulky; a catch on the side reveals that it is a chalice-shaped tabernacle, inside which rests a simple small clay cup on a velvet lining.

2b. ....seen reliquaries before. You inspect the gold cups.  One of them has a darker band in the middle of it. On inspection, it turns out to be a golden stand and framework supporting an older wooden cup, enhanced with a large gold lip. The cup itself has a small coating of gold leaf on the outside. 

2c. ...read some of the literature on the subject.  Often, the old poems describe the Sacred Cup as having been transformed after it was used by the Holy Man. So before then, it would have been a fairly normal Levantine cup from the beginning of the 1st millennium. You inspect the gold cups, and find one that adheres near-perfectly to the shape of Levantine cups you have seen in the Museum.

3. You examine the chalices on offer. Each has been kept clean and well-polished, even the one your Duplicitous Adversary drank from. But one must have been used more often, if the Ancient Guardian drinks from the Sacred Cup - and how else could he be so Ancient? You lift a chalice to examine it in the light, and see the the subtle wear from hands and lips over the centuries. Comparison with the neighbouring cups makes this plain. You take the chalice over to the stone bowl and fill it. 

4. The ancient texts say.... 

4a. ...that when the Sacred Cup was first blessed, it was shared. You grab a chalice at random, fill it from the stone bowl and turn to the Ancient Guardian. "You first."

4b. ...that when the Sacred Cup was first blessed, the Holy Man was drinking wine. You point this out to the Ancient Guardian. He produces a flask of wine from a cupboard that you hadn't spotted. 

5. Think about the journey you've been on to reach the Mysterious Cavern, and the perils you braved within. This is a test of faith....

5a. ....so you should not think about it overlong, but reach out with hope in your soul and take up a goblet. You grasp one, and trying not to look down at it, take it over to the stone bowl and fill it.

5b. ....that ends the journey you and your Duplicitous Adversary have both been on. But even if your choice of companions differed,  the course of your travel and object of your desire was the same. The main difference was in your motives. Knowing your motives to be good and your faith sound, you should submit yourself to judgement in exactly the same way he did. 

You pick up the golden cup your Duplicitous Adversary drank from.

6. You gather up each of the cups, pour a little bit of water in each, mix it all together and drink. The Ancient Guardian smacks you over the back of the head with a chainmail glove and tells you (in Old French) not to be a smart-arse.

****

You have chosen ◼︎◼︎◼︎◼︎ly. 

The Monastery on the Sword: Part Three

First, a few things to mention:

Apologies for a month or so's absence. Things got away from me - and I had to devote a little time to back up the contents of this blog (it comes to over 150,000 words!).

During this time, there has been a massive spike in views, largely from Sweden. I'm not sure why this should be, but Swedish readers are, naturally, very welcome. 

Also, a recent entry - Tsoldiers of Tsymric, which is part of the ongoing 'Fantastical Enlightenment' material I've been putting together.  Other popular posts are reviews or based on something more famous - so why one of my setting posts should be so attractive is beyond me. Perhaps it is some sort of code?

Readers may also wish to take a look at the recent Kickstarter from Patrick Stewart of False Machine: Demon Bone Sarcophagus. There is also the first instalment of David McGrogan's Fixed World to consider.

Signals boosted; bulletins announced. We return to the usual content.

This is the - much delayed - capstone (figuratively and something like literally) to an older project of mine, set within Terrae Vertebrae. Here are the first two parts: One, Two.

We look now to the top of the Sword, as detailed in entry No. 3 in Part Two. The Abbot and several monks live at the top of the sword, lowering baskets for supplies, waste disposal and the occasional visitor - as well as to accept deposits. Several gantries are laced with rigging, offering a place for the favoured monks to make their devotions and for the storage of some few necessities. The Abbot is given a favoured spot, in the shape of an open pavilion on the very pommel. 

The height of the monastery means that newcomers are at a constant disadvantage from the height and winds. Vertigo will not only through off a swordsman's blow, but also a spellcaster's charms. 

In the map below - 

Black indicates the outline of the sword.

Red the timbers and platforms around it.

Green certain mechanisms.

Blue ropes and rigging.

Orange the hollowed-out vault in the hilt, as well as the Abbot's pavilion. 

1. Spare coils of rope for the winches at 9 and 13, and for the scouring mechanisms.
2. The shaft of the sword. Nigh-on impossible to climb.
3. The storage platform - access to 4 and 1 from here.
4. Thick, abrasive scouring pads hang here, to be used to clean the shaft of the sword. 
5. 5 and 8 are sides of the access platform. People and items raised up from the ground are received here, and other utilitarian functions performed. 
6. The cross-guard of the sword. Ancient, solid wood, pitted with monkish scrimshaw. 
7. A treadwheel here can used to raise baskets from the ground or drag scouring pads. It is powered by Patience the mule. Patience works harder than you. Patience deals with heights better than you. Patience might fundamentally just be a better person than you are. 
8. 5 and 8 are sides of the access platform. People and items raised up from the ground are received here, and other utilitarian functions performed. 
9. A wheel here guides a line dropping down to the ground. It can either be powered by a counterweight at 13, or by the treadwheel at 7.  
10. 10 and 12 are sides of the widest platform. In so much as the monks assemble with their brethren on the ground, they do it here. 
11. Two extended beacons are set here, together with flammable materials. These are the most obvious emergency signalling system on the hilt.
12. 10 and 12 are sides of the widest platform. In so much as the monks assemble with their brethren on the ground, they do it here. 
13. A wheel here guides a line dropping down to the ground. It can either be powered by a counterweight at 9, or by the treadwheel at 7.  
14. Prayer platforms extend from either side of the hilt at 14 and 16. At 14, a bore-hole four inches in diameter leads into the vault as a deposit slot (one of the monks has a staff with an appropriate scoop at the top). 
15. Here lies the main vault, carved into the hilt over generations. The treasures stored here are far from mundane - this is not a bank, being too far from most merchants. It is the rare, the dangerous or certain last-resort stashes that you find in the numerous cubby holes and niches of the vault. 
16. Prayer platforms extend from either side of the hilt at 14 and 16.
17. The pommel of the sword. 
18. The Abbot's Pavilion. The entrance to the vault is here.

Occupants of the Hilt: 1d6+2 monks, the Abbot, Patience the Mule.

The monks and Abbot can be treated as low-level and higher-level clerics/Prophets. They carry no weapons as such, but many long iron-bound poles used to assist with the winches or the business of scouring.

All occupants of the hilt do no suffer from the adverse conditions caused from height, exposure, &c.

The monks spend their time at 5, 8, 10, 12, 14 and 16. 3 is not regarded as a place for regular use - like a  cellar. 

The monks consider themselves less a religious community than a 'conglomeration of hermits' - a little like the real-world Carthusians. Individual tasks, prayer and contemplation are more frequent than mass worship.

Appian Considered

Some of my reading list is calculated and planned, part of reading reviews and picking up on references or following certain authors. Some of it is pure coincidence. This was a coincidence: I found a Loeb Classical Library edition of the first few books of Appian's Roman History. This is partially fragmentary, particular the early sections dealing with the young Kingdom and Republic. But this volume covers up until the end of what we call the Third Punic War (Appian's terminology differs slightly). Appian was a Greek official, based in Alexandria and a Roman citizen. He lived at least until the reign of the Emperor Trajan.

I'm not going to discuss all the events covered by Appian's history here. You likely know a number of them already, or have some image of them - Hannibal taking his elephants across the Alps and rampaging around the Italian peninsula, Cato the Elder's catchphrase. Instead, I'm going to examine certain elements from Appian and suggest them as world-building elements.

***

Appian is writing in Greek about Romans, Italians, Celts, Iberians, Numidians and Carthaginians. The advantage of the Loeb books is that they present the original text of the work side by side with the translation. Greek has no letter H, Q, V or W and so we see some odd transliterations in the Greek, reproduced below.

'Amilcar [Hamilcar]

'Annibal [Hannibal]

'Asdroubal [Hasdrubal]

Ma'arbal [Maharbal]

Phoulouius Phlakkos [Fulvius Flaccus]

Kointos Pompeios Aulos [Quintus Pompeius Aulus] 

Oualerios [Valerius]

Ouolouski [Volsci].     

For the last two above, consider the pronunciation of the French oui, or the Mexican state of Oaxaca.

A purely coincidental picture of Ralph Fiennes as Coriolanus, 
from a 2011 film adaptation. 

As fun as it may be to wrap your tongue round some of these, pronouncing names differently or using different formulations may be a better tabletop methods for indicating cultural differences than an entire new language or an attempted accent (my Peter Lorre or Humphrey Bogart might be pretty good, but do you want an entire city full of Bogarts?). Hasbrubal can become Asdroubal, just as Solomon can become Suleiman, or Thor can become Thunor can become Donner. Saint Ottoline can become the Blessed Ottoline, or Holy-most Ottoline or Ottoline Beata.

Wikipedia's Names for Germany is an interesting example of intersecting language groups, and rewards study.

***

The Saguntines, when they despaired of help from Rome, and when famine weighed heavily upon them, and Hannibal kept up the siege without intermission (for he had heard that the city was very prosperous and wealthy, and for this reason relaxed not the siege), issued an edict to bring all the silver and gold, public and private, to the forum, where they melted it with lead and brass, so that it should be useless to Hannibal.

The Wars in Spain, 2.12

As you can imagine, Hannibal reacted badly to this. But the notion of an opponent trying to ditch or spoil their treasure is arresting. If Our Heroes have blazed through the Platinum Immortals of the Supreme Syndic far quicker than the GM might reasonably predicted, discovering that an objective is imperilled keeps the action meaningful. Of course, paper money, share certificates, top-secret dossiers and tomes of eldritch lore can all be burnt. But the danger of hot crucibles and the haste of loot-hungry adventurers has a certain high drama to it.

***

At the end of the year, Fabius Maximus Servilianus, the brother of Aemilianus, came to succeed Quintus in the command, bringing two new legions from Rome and some allies, so that his forces altogether amounted to about 18,000 foot and 1,600 horse. He wrote to Micipsa, king of the Numidians, to send him some elephants as speedily as possible. As he was hastening to Itucca with his army in divisions, Viriathus attacked him with 6,000 troops with great noise and barbaric clamour, and wearing the long hair which in battles they are accustomed to shake in order to terrify their enemies, but he was not dismayed. He stood his ground bravely, and the enemy was driven off without accomplishing anything.

The Wars in Spain, 12.67

Images of long-haired barbarians and Romans with sensible short-back-and-sides isn't really anything new, but the impression Appian gives us of hair as a form of psychological warfare is quite fun.

***

This victory raised the spirits of the Romans, but the next night they were seized with panic. A body of the enemy's horse who had gone out foraging before Lucullus arrived, returned and not finding any entrance to the city because it was surrounded by the besiegers, ran about shouting and creating disturbance while those inside the walls shouted back. These noises caused strange terror in the Roman camp. Their soldiers were sick from want of sleep, and because of the unaccustomed food which the country afforded. They had no wine, no salt, no vinegar, no oil, but lived on wheat and barley, and the flesh of deer and rabbits boiled without salt, which caused dysentery, from which many died.

The Wars in Spain, 9.54

Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake. The notion of dysentery ravaging the armies of the classical and medieval worlds is probably not new to you, but here is a fine example of it. The passage is also a reminder of the necessity of things like salt. While it may be that a game renders food as one element alone('Rations', 'Elven waybread'), here's a reminder of the necessity of a varied diet.

***

Fetial priests appear in Appian as part of the negotiations in sieges, or dealing with the various embassies from Celtic nations or Carthage. Livy describes parts of fetial ceremonies:

Then the Pater Patratus, who is constituted for the purpose of giving the treaty the religious sanction of an oath, did so by a long formula in verse, which it is not worth while to quote. After reciting the conditions he said: "Hear, O Jupiter, hear! thou Pater Patratus of the people of Alba! Hear ye, too, people of Alba! As these conditions have been publicly rehearsed from first to last, from these tablets, in perfect good faith, and inasmuch as they have here and now been most clearly understood, so these conditions the People of Rome will not be the first to go back from. If they shall, in their national council, with false and malicious intent be the first to go back, then do thou, Jupiter, on that day, so smite the People of Rome, even as I here and now shall smite this swine, and smite them so much the more heavily, as thou art greater in power and might." With these words he struck the swine with a flint. 

Livy, History of Rome, 1.24

In order, therefore, that wars might be not only conducted but also proclaimed with some formality, he wrote down the law, as taken from the ancient nation of the Aequicoli, under which the Fetials act down to this day when seeking redress for injuries. The procedure is as follows: -

The ambassador binds his head in a woollen fillet. When he has reached the frontiers of the nation from whom satisfaction is demanded, he says, "Hear, O Jupiter! Hear, ye confines" - naming the particular nation whose they are - "Hear, O Justice! I am the public herald of the Roman People. Rightly and duly authorised do I come; let confidence be placed in my words." Then he recites the terms of the demands, and calls Jupiter to witness: "If I am demanding the surrender of those men or those goods, contrary to justice and religion, suffer me nevermore to enjoy my native land." He repeats these words as he crosses the frontier, he repeats them to whoever happens to be the first person he meets, he repeats them as he enters the gates and again on entering the forum, with some slight changes in the wording of the formula. If what he demands are not surrendered at the expiration of thirty-three days - for that is the fixed period of grace - he declares war in the following terms: "Hear, O Jupiter, and thou Janus Quirinus, and all ye heavenly gods, and ye, gods of earth and of the lower world, hear me! I call you to witness that this people" - mentioning it by name - "is unjust and does not fulfil its sacred obligations. But about these matters we must consult the elders in our own land in what way we may obtain our rights." 

With these words the ambassador returned to Rome for consultation. The king forthwith consulted the senate in words to the following effect: "Concerning the matters, suits, and causes, whereof the Pater Patratus of the Roman People and Quirites hath complained to the Pater Patratus of the Prisci Latini, and to the people of the Prisci Latini, which matters they were bound severally to surrender, discharge, and make good, whereas they have done none of these things - say, what is your opinion?" He whose opinion was first asked, replied, "I am of opinion that they ought to be recovered by a just and righteous war, wherefore I give my consent and vote for it." Then the others were asked in order, and when the majority of those present declared themselves of the same opinion, war was agreed upon. It was customary for the Fetial to carry to the enemies' frontiers a blood-smeared spear tipped with iron or burnt at the end, and, in the presence of at least three adults, to say, "Inasmuch as the peoples of the Prisci Latini have been guilty of wrong against the People of Rome and the Quirites, and inasmuch as the People of Rome and the Quirites have ordered that there be war with the Prisci Latini, and the Senate of the People of Rome and the Quirites have determined and decreed that there shall be war with the Prisci Latini, therefore I and the People of Rome, declare and make war upon the peoples of the Prisci Latini." With these words he hurled his spear into their territory. This was the way in which at that time satisfaction was demanded from the Latins and war declared, and posterity adopted the custom.

Livy, 1.32

Appian has the lack of a fetial serve as an indicator of implacability.

While Pontius was speaking the old man burst into tears, then seated himself in his carriage and went back to Caudium. Pontius then summoned the Roman envoys and asked them if they had any fetial priest with them. There was none present because the army had marched to undertake an irreconcilable, implacable war. 

Appian, The Samnite History

There's a few things I would take from this. Firstly, that even if a modern reader might know not to expect the 'separation of church and state', it is still possible to underestimate the extent to which religion and state power entwined. (A timely reminder that Julius Caesar and the Emperors were also Pontifex Maximus). A bishop can be seen as advising a king, still somehow a third party - he's not the Chancellor (though a Cardinal might be...), or the Grand Marshal. Even given that we are seeing a 'polished-up' account of the fetials, they still seem to have a distinct place within the state apparatus.

Secondly, that there is quite a lot about Rome that hearkens back to the laws and mores of an individual city-state. Even if we can associate it with progress and the march of history (Classical architecture = Enlightenment, Classical architecture = Rome, Rome = Enlightenment, 'What have the Romans ever done for us', &c), that's not always something that holds terribly true. This scene (an image of which is below) from the HBO series Rome, with its images of blood sacrifice, face-painting, staring dragon totems, eerie hooting trumpets and public execution is a relevant counter. Having a fantasy Rome equivalent have its legions with as many charms and streaks of warpaint as the stereotyped warrior of the Great Plains would not be inappropriate.

(Looking up certain Roman priesthoods and festivals - the Flamens, the Salii, Lupercalia - may be helpful.)

Thirdly, the image of the priest as an envoy is an arresting one. The image of priest as peacemaker - Friar Lawrence in Romeo and Juliet - is hardly new, but having a cleric at the tabletop with very specific powers to oversee oaths or to sanctify action is interesting. It's an image of a cleric as a Charisma-based 'face' character which could be an interesting variation. A use of Abjuration or Mental spells schools would be apt, though some adaptation may be necessary.