#temar

[debohkim]

SHIKATEMA <3 

[janspar]

Map of the Offices of the Temar Trading Company As always, thanks to Edgar for taking my scratches and making pretty art out of them!

[janspar]

A Letter from the Frontier

Benvin,

Your letter arrived at Depot last night. Should this reply find its way to you in a similar time, I make that an eight-day round trip from your tower in Mirsvr, to my cot on the frontier and back. I thus concede our wager settled, and you may consider payment delivered, awaiting only my presence in the city. I confess I am not sorry to find myself the lesser in this matter, as my joy at our progress outweighs by far the stake I placed against you.

As to professional matters, the state of my honour is less certain.

The progress here has been slower than was hoped, as I cautioned in my reports when this expedition was first planned. The blame does not lie on the scouts, as I know many on the Boards and in the Wardrooms are no doubt speculating – at least, on no scouts other than myself. As the first Company man to observe these lands and the author of the reports upon the intelligence of which the appraisements were calculated, what blame can be assigned for this region's deficiencies thus far must surely be assigned to me and the poor quality of my intelligence or my inability to communicate its significance. I remind you again, nonetheless, of my early and continued pessimism regarding this venture.

The Hoitani are much as I found them twenty years ago. I needn't describe their character again for you. The Company consensus seemed to be that enough material tribute would be sufficient to sway Hoitani chieftains from their position of reserve into acceptance of a closer partnership with the Company. This was never to succeed, as I insisted from the start; the Abheski mind and the Hoitani mind are too dissimilar. This is not to denigrate them, you understand that my respect for their nation is considerable. They simply do not share fundamental concepts of value that are apparent to us, and the benefits of our way of life are perhaps incomprehensible to them. They care not for a letter carried from Mirsvr and back in eight days. The bribery and force that work so well in the Anshess or beyond the Belt simply are not persuasive here.

After the late debacle in that western camp, I fear our progress will be slowed further. The destruction of that settlement was of no benefit to Temar – the Hoitan see little if any distinction between the Companies. The work achieved by our scouts, against the unreasonable expectations of the Boards, was highly promising, now rendered useless. The bumbling of a Valdjin captain has undone our project to an immeasurable degree.

I feel no joy in this vindication. I am galled to see the Erthani – really Benvin, the Erthani! – trade with the Hoitani more successfully than we. Our best course to salvage this region is to allow our scouts continued liberty in managing their own affairs – to an individual they are as disgusted with the Valdjini massacre as I, and are themselves best placed to repair their own contacts among the camps. Failing that, a further deployment of force, while regrettable, will yield the most profitable returns in the least time. I know the Boards grow hungry.

Please communicate all I have disclosed here to the relevant Boards and Members. I will continue to direct our efforts, and update you through the usual channels.

In friendship,

Survit te Ovnjen, Depot-Commander, Hoitan

[janspar]

A Map of Lansk

[janspar]

A Yearsrise Revel

Avdyen,

Thank you dearly for your last letter. My wound is healing nicely – the recuperation here in Otvev has been most regenerative not only for my body, but for my mind, my spirit, and my soul.

The social circuit here has done much to revive me. Even though I am on half-pay, my cousin secured me an administrative post (little more than a sinecure, in truth). My duties are far from onerous but the extra cash along with my injury compensation means I have had a heavy purse while recovering here. Thankfully though, there are many revels which have assisted greatly in lightening this burden.

The social youth of Otvev consider a dashing lieutenant of the Temar Company, bearing a battle-scar and limping from a war wound, a handsome spectacle indeed, and I have been invited to no fewer than three parties each night of this festive season. My account of the Battle of Selin Lake has been recounted so many times (embellished no more than the appropriate amount), that I feel sure I must be telling it in my sleep.

I was at the most curious party last night. A Licence-Prospector was holding a Yearsrise celebration in his palace, and his son insisted that I should be there – or perhaps it was his nephew, the fellow was rather dull but the party sounded exciting and so I graced him with my attendance.

You are probably wondering how this letter has reached you so quickly – do not worry, my friend, for in Otvev they celebrate Yearsrise several days earlier than we do! I tried to get an explanation for one of my hosts, why they do things so strangely, but they could not really explain how they reckoned the change in the year. I must confess than I was then pressed upon to explain how we reckon our year in Mirsvr, and found myself unequal to a clear explanation. It simply is so.

In any case, the party was magnificent and peculiar at once. The majority of the evening was taken up in great revelry. Dancing a new dance adapted from a Koiri rhythm that has been fashionable of late in Otvev – has it come into vogue at home yet? – drinking brandy and fine wines, and being entertained by a troupe of acrobat players from somewhere to the far south of Anshess. A good hundred or more people must have been there, and all dressed in their festival finest – the fashions are much like home. I danced my share, and recounted my story of Selin Lake at least twice more and was heartily applauded both times. My fist nor my throat ever wanted for a drink thanks to my admiring audience, and I made the acquaintance of a young poet with the most striking eyes.

As the evening drew on and the guests began to retire to their own homes for their private Yearsrise observances, I was asked to stay and take part in the more intimate gathering of close friends and family, the nephew insisting I was part of his personal circle. We recited the same prayers as I was familiar with – or at least, the words were the same, but the rhythm and the cadence were very different, and not solely because of the local accent. Rather than baked fruit and fish, we ate a small meal of a sky-jelly, native to somewhere to the West but long popular in Otvev and their typical Yearsrise meal. We drank three toasts (of good Mirsvr brandy!), and spent the remainder of the evening in much quieter, gentler pursuits than I had expected.

It is curious how we two cities – so alike, so aligned in our purpose, and united by our familial bonds and our common tongue – can yet be so alien! It is often the least changes that have the most striking effect upon the stranger. In a temple in Anshess or a tent of a Hoitan chief, one is prepared for the unfamiliar, but when the unfamiliar hides within Yearsrise prayers one has known all of their life, the effect is increased manyfold.

I hope your own Yearsrise revels were glad, my friend. I await your next letter eagerly, and hope to be returned to full health soon. If you encounter a Temari probationer by the name of Yarllen, who I hear is on leave in Mirsvr, stay clear of the cardtable – I am sure the little sneak is a cheat.

Now, I must go and ask my striking young poet where I really have been telling war-tales in my sleep.

Your friend,

Dazhag te Shensha

Lieutenant (bound), Temar Company

[waryfalcon]

Temar expanding his love of weapons from just stealing knives from drawers to straight up impersonating bows.

[janspar]

Agitator’s Progress

Fellow workers,

I cannot give you my name, but I am an ally to your cause. I labour in a printing-works  in the city, and we have been given an order to print a series of illustrations for posting all around the city. It is a series of four images, to be printed in five colours, no expense spared, and it represents an attack on our movement and our safety!

The images are as follows:

The first in the series depicts a young man, a ground-worker, leaving his home for a day of labour. He carries a hammer over his shoulder. In the background can be seen two towers – modelled upon the Old Tower and the Grand Tower (at a perspective impossible to achieve from any real location in the city). His clothes are in good repair, and he has the healthy complexion and expression of a young labourer in the prime of his health. He is crossing a street filled with groundsfolk of various professions attending to their own trades. The subsidiary characters of the series are visible – his parents stand at the door of their building, attending to their own labour. A young man of a similar age and appearance can be seen in the street, wearing the uniform of a probationary officer of the Temar Company.

In the second image of the series, the young man is leaving a workshop at the end of the day, carrying his hammer low by his side. He is stepping into an alley where several dark figures are huddled conspiratorially, one of whom is beckoning the young man to join them. These figures are dressed in ragged labourer's clothes, apart from one who is in the garb of an Erthani mate.

In the third image, the young protagonist stands atop a cart, brandishing a sheaf of agitator's literature and addressing a crowd comprising enthusiastic fellow agitators, the conspirators from the last image, and shocked citizens. His face is twisted by anger and blotched with drunkenness, and his clothes have become stained and torn. His hammer lies broken upon the ground by the wheels of the cart, alongside discarded bottles of Erthani spirits. At the left side of the image, the young Company officer watches stoically, while the labourer's parents observe from the right margin, their faces a study of shame and despair.

In the fourth and final illustration, the young man, his clothes in tatters, lies mortally wounded under a militiaman brandishing a club. On the same street as the first illustration, a detachment of militia is engaging a gang of agitators. The honest workers can no longer be seen, and their smashed tools lie in the agitators' wake. The constables are being directed by the young officer, now in the uniform of a Second Lieutenant. The labourer's parents watch weeping, while the conspirators can be seen escaping down a side-alley, unnoticed by the constables.

A more naked, unsubtle piece of propaganda I have never seen! If you can publish a mockery or a reply to this laughable series before the series itself is printed, it shall lose all currency in the public view. Please do so with greatest haste – there are but a few days before this shall be distributed through the city!

Signed, An ally

[dokusama-artblog]

YOU’RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT ANON!!!!

How could I forget the best boys??? >_<