Nexus (EC/Shovelface)

[Eternal Chronicler]

There are places of power. Places of destiny. Holy places where ley lines cross and the surrounding countryside surges with magikal energy. Some say that the forces of fate are drawn to these places. That each is a nexus. A point where the tides of history will be turned. Where the world will be forever changed. A nexus is both a blessing and a curse. They are a powerful resource to whomever claims them. We who possesses a nexus, it is said, holds the power to shape the world. But they are so hotly contested among mages and kings that merely defending a nexus can be the dismantling of an entire nation. Ley lines are eternal but they are not unchanging. Indeed, it is their very nature to be in a constant state of flux, to be ever-changing. This is life. This is magik. Not the mere parlor tricks of circle-sorcery. Magic is the incarnation of will and its expression upon the face of reality. Not a sad scrawl upon some ancient parchment. As such, one can never predict when a nexus may fade away or where a new one may be born. But what would happen if a nexus were born not as a place, but as a man?

I present to you, o gentle reader, the nation of Sirra. One of six nations within the continent of Marael, Sirra was a nation known largely for its fairly simplistic lifestyle. Located in the center of Marael, Sirra was often referred to as the cultural center of the land, but its five neighbors bore vastly different manners and - although the Sirran nobles were never given credit - would have a much more troublesome time with one another were it not for Sirran intervention and diplomacy.
To the southeast, the "ruling" nation (if any was to be declared dominant) of Nedra stood as a bastion of all things glory. Despite its nearly militaristic lifestyle, the Nedran life is not a bad one, per se - merely one that places priority on law and order to an extreme, and subsequently has adopted an unfriendly attitude towards outsiders. Very little coming and going comes on without raising questions.
To the far east, the nation of Rhyla was as close to a statement of arcane prowess as could be perceived by the mortal eye. Whole cities of arcane studies and towers alike gave way to a predominantly gnomish society. Regrettably enough, with arcane centers comes high monetary value, and with value comes crime. The streets of urban Rhyla were most certainly ones not to be trusted.
To the northwest, Irus was founded and built. Commonly seen as a nation built solely on mystery, the Irusians more commonly adopted powers of the mind above all else, and for as much as the rumors might be worth, the life of an Irusian was not one most would label as abnormal, despite their more silent ways.
Conversely, southwest of Sirra stood Pramucae, whom other nations often jokingly referred to as the "home of the homeless", and indeed was a nation known for a primal and nomadic culture. Few permanent establishments were ever raised in the wild lands, but most of these were erected for the exclusive purpose of outsiders within the miles and miles of nomadic hunting grounds that was the nation itself.
Lastly, the Cardeian theocracy. Much like Rhyla, Carde was organized almost to perfection as a neighbor of Nedran, but as opposed to the glorification of the arcane arts, not one street in Carde lacked in a temple, and while most tourists would have a pleasant time observing from afar, the multi-religious disputes of every god in Faerun worshipped so nearly to each other would have easily escalated to civil war had it not been for the extensive patrols ensuring peace from exactly that.

As fate would have it, our story begins in the suburbs of the Sirran capital, Ulriya. News travels fast on four legs, so it was told. As it were, it had been two days since rumor began to spread from the walls of Ulriya that war was coming - or at the very least, made a threat under which conditions would not be met. With the whole continent not involved in any war for the past seventy years, the news was alarming but not incredibly surprising. However vague the rumors were, the Sirran government had sent out posters and fliers as a call to arms, which suggested (at least in the public eye) that the famous Sirran diplomatic methods had failed. Many of the more civil people of the nation had already fled to Pramucae in fear for their lives, while others remained behind and either gathered their things to take action, or lived on in the hopes that conflict would pass them by...

[Eternal Chronicler]

The day was young. The sun shone all but glimmering just above the horizon, but not all was well in the streets of Ulriya. The almost-uniform posters scattered throughout the city had caused many to flee in panic from the Nedran army, and yet in the midst of it all, several who considered themselves more able-bodied or heroic to a fault remained behind to fortify their defenses. In the midst of the bazaar however, a pale yet seemingly unaged woman stood to the side, occasionally stopping one individual or another and requesting escort to Pramucae. None would affirm it, and as time wore on, she grew increasingly uneasy about it.

After some time, the normally-packed streets emptied, and the same woman remained still, every now and again offering a quiet prayer to Bahamut seeking a fortunate turn of events. Something had to change, else the goings would only get far worse from here...

[Shovelface]

Before long a dark, chocolate brown haired woman with dark violet eyes approached the pale woman with slight caution. "Hey, is everything alright?" She called out as she proceeded to walk towards the lone woman with slight concern, looking around and noticing; those two were the only living souls in the immediate area.

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