The Lost Empire [semi-open]

Prydania

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði
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OOC Note: Welcome to the Lost Empire thread! The Lost Empire is an ancient civilization in Iteria whose origins are lost to time- think "dawn of civilization" stuff. Its remains are scattered across Iteria, and yet it remains an enigma.
This thread will serve as an anthology of Lost Empire posts.
This thread and concept are the brainchildren of @Loz
If you'd like to take part please discuss the matter in the Iteria channel on TNP RP's Discord server to discuss things with Eras' Iteria RPers!


Red ochre. It was red ochre that had originally caught Arit Nissim’s attention as an archeology undergrad student ten years ago. The naturally occurring red clay pigment had been found in ancient archaeological sites across Iteria.
“Ancient” was actually the wrong word. 15,000-10,000 BCE. 5,000 years before the emergence of Shaddaism from Mita, Bashime. THAT was ancient...this seemed older.

The red ochre was important though. It was a hint at a common religious burial practice. And it caught Arit’s imagination. Something prior to the emergence of the Tribe of Yihud, something before even the origins of Bashime. She had delved deeper and discovered the academic writings on something Iterian archeologists only ever referred to as the “Lost Empire.” It was something Arit had never been taught about in school, and her mind flooded with questions. She wanted to know everything she could find about this obscure corner of Iterian archeology.

Obscurity was the problem though. Lost Empire research was limited during the first half of her undergraduate career. Of course the remnants of it had long been known to Iterians. Shaddaists in Iraelia, Astragon, and Bashime were long familiar with the vast ruins, and had traditionally ascribed them to the Nephilim- angels who had rebelled against Shaddai at the beginning of creation.
This view had dwindled as more secular attitudes became prominent in the word of academia, but the rejection of divine origins wasn’t replaced with anything for a good century or two. Scholars in the 18th and 19th centuries proposed a number of explanations. Some mundane, others outlandish, some downright crazy. These tended to vary from locale to locale, however.

The early 20th century saw the first proposals put forth that these burial grounds, catacombs, and vast stone structures- most of whom were barely distinguishable from natural mountains and rock formations due to thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years of erosion- were part of a single Iterian civilization that predated all other Iterian civilizations. It was met with hesitancy at first, but it was generally accepted by the mid 1960s, as more and more sites were excavated.

And that was it. That’s what Arit was left with after two years of research as a young university student. The 1960s were the peak of scholarship. The consensus had emerged that this civilization existed. Burial sites, monuments, catacombs, and the like were identified, genetic testing on the remains found indicated an Iterian genome found in most present-day Iterian populations. And that was it. No writing. No idea as to their language. What they even believed.

Part of the problem was identifying enough sites. The vast majority of them were, as stated, indistinguishable from natural rock formations at first glance. It was only after observation and study that their man-made nature was confirmed. Yet natural rock formations that appear to bear a resemblance to people did exist. It was a byproduct of humanity’s innate drive towards recognizing patterns. That meant that sussing out which sites were natural formations and which sites were the eroded remnants of this society was a costly and time consuming process.

None of this deterred Arit. She imagined these sites in their former glory. She imagined this civilization emerging from the wilderness...how? Why? Who? What was their story? She spent her undergraduate career writing on the Lost Empire and studying it where she could. And then there was a shift. It was not sudden. In fact it had been slowly trending since before Arit had begun university. It was in the latter half of her undergraduate career that the shift began to become apparent though. New, more sophisticated techniques of dating artifacts, new, more sensitive ways of analyzing the structures of proposed archeological sites, all led to the first wave of new scholarship on the Lost Empire in over five decades. And Arit was part of that wave.

Her earlier writings and research on the matter had caught the attention of Professor Gad Davida. He was one of the few archaeological scholars in Iraelia who had specialized in Lost Empire research at the turn of the 21st century. He’d seen Arit’s passion for the topic and had recruited her to apply to study the subject at a graduate level. Gad was always on the lookout for promising students with an interest in the field- they were few and far between. So Arit was being sponsored on Lost Empire digs as a third year undergrad just as the field began to explode.

And here she was. About to graduate with her doctorate. It had been a trying journey, but it was almost over. She had been part of a doctorate candidate team that had lobbied the Temple in Adonai-Jireh to excavate sites on Mt. Carmel. The Temple had refused. Mt. Carmel was said to be where Shaddai had given His commandments to the Yihudi people. It was- in many ways- Shaddaism’s most holy site.
It had taken nearly two years of negotiations, but Arit’s team had managed to secure a compromise. Excavating sites around the mountain that were technically still under the Temple’s authority. It wasn’t everything- Arit was desperately curious to know if the oldest altars and temples built to Shaddai on the mountain were built atop remnants of Lost Empire site, but there was no way the Temple would let them dig there.

The sites they were allowed to dig at had been more than enough to justify the dig though. Remnants of 17000 year old art, sculptures, shrines….all within spitting distance of the site held to be the birthplace of Shaddaism. What connections that implied- if any- still had to be uncovered. Actually interpreting this civilization’s beliefs and language was still a distant dream. Still, it was another vital site to the map. Mapping the Lost Empire across Iteria, a once thriving society condemned by who knows what- and giving birth to the various cultures that had sprung up in its wake.
 
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From the Diary of Senior Professor Rufus Oluwagembe of Domos University, Faculty of Archaeology

Bayyah Na Tyrooz

Capital of Astragon

January 2020


The secrets left by that lost empire are not so easily revealed, the ancients buried themselves deep, the discovery that we are now calling the find of the century was a fluke. The Grand Tyrooz Hotel was, so I'm told, a marvel of modern luxury, the sort of place where merchant caste scions gather to drink overpriced wine and gamble away ridiculous sums of money, was because a rather large bomb brought about its untimely demolition. The battle of Tyrooz which saw the tyrant Murza deposed and our glorious exalt crowned lasted weeks and saw countless buildings and homes reduced to ash and rubble, it seems the grand's fate was no different with the good admiral using it as a rather obvious place to store a large number of armed men. Naturally, when Sabhrain's armies arrived to retake the old city the grand became a major target, one bunker-buster later and it evolved into a major crater.

Interesting as all this modern intrigue and mayhem was though that is not why I found myself in the old city, it was what the mayhem revealed that drew me to Tyrooz. The new year had brought with it much commotion, a new empress crowned amidst the clearing of rubble and the burying of the dead, my presence in Tyrooz was a courtesy at best. The faculty of Tyrooz university was greatly undermanned thanks to a mix of staff murdered by Murza's thugs and countless more displaced by the civil war. I agreed to provisionally head the department of archaeology primarily as a favour to Vice-Chancellor Lumamba whose support of my past endeavours had been nothing short of formative.

For the most part, my days were spent trying to figure out how many staff still bore a pulse, that and begging the military for aid in securing local collections against both looters and damage. I expected my role to consist of keeping the faculty in one piece, however ragged that form might be, instead, I was to be greeted with a wholly unexpected adventure. Five days into my tenure I received a garbled call from acting professor Stanley Ajala, I had always found the man far too excitable and between his rambling tone and the static (the phone lines were heavily damaged like most things at the time) I had to expend all my reserves of patience to gain any clarity from the man.

"Slow down man! what is it?" i asked trying my best to sound civil

"Rufus, its the Grand!" He blurted out in uncontained excitement

"The Hotel?!" I asked confused

"Whats left of it!" He replied his still heavy with astonishment

"What are you talking about Stanley!?" I pressed becoming increasingly irritable

"Rufus, they found something underneath, tunnels stretching for miles! entire catacomb sections we've never seen before!"

I knew of course about the famed catacombs of Tyrooz, they were an archaeological treasure on a par with the black pyramids of Fuss. Over several Millennia various dynasties and civilizations had all had the strange idea to utilize the vast tunnels beneath Bayyah Na Tyrooz, one after another they had all added to the network each new culture building upon the bones of the last. We knew of course that the tunnels predated recorded settlement of Tyrooz, but the oldest levels were unstable and finding any intact was about as common as seeing a kaiderin smile. I deemed the mere possibility of such a discovery well worth the risk of encouraging Stanley.

The Grand Hotel was a vast complex many stories high, was, her Majesties air corps had reduced it to a pile of scrap and broken mortar. when I arrived I immediately felt out of place in my black bowtie and tweed jacket, surrounded by grim-faced rescue workers and soldiers in dusty fatigues you might say I was overdressed. I was led to the crater by a decidedly disinterested soldier who almost certainly saw my indulgence by the government as an impediment to real work, perhaps he was right as well, nonetheless he led me to the cordoned off basement where dozens of workmen and several officials awaited.

The basement of the Grand, if it could still be called that, had been split open by the bomb, it was as though a great set of hands had smashed the building like an egg. The Basement wall bore a long fissure whose narrow opening revealed a pathway that no one had seen in Kaidain knows how many thousands of years. After several hours of phone calls, negotiation and various competing chains of command, we were finally granted several days to explore the newly discovered tunnels. I set out personally with Stanley and a small team of experienced miners and army engineers to map sections of the newly discovered catacombs.

The initially narrow entrance soon gave way to something truly unexpected, accounting for cave-ins and the degradation of the ages these sections of the catacombs still maintained spaces wide enough to drive several Kosh Kasad battle tanks side by side. This lost empire possessed the skills to hollow out vast tracts of the subterranean world some fifteen millennia before the birth of Kayyvan himself! and if that wasn't legitimately awe-inspiring enough consider that we were able to walk the length of these vast tunnels without fear of cave in because they were structurally more sound then many tunnels that came after!

Now their use, of course, is a mystery, like just about everything about the lost empire, where they funerary professionals? temples? some sort of wonderous underground highway perhaps? I dare not to speculate without proper evidence. Needless to say, this culture represents one of the most widespread and complex material groups in Eras, but their tunnels were not the only thing we found, though I would be lying if I said I was glad about that part.

It was a chilling scream that alerted us to our next discovery, one of the workers came rushing back rambling about Vekshah and muttering fearful prayers to Shaddai. With two armed men, I went to investigate the worker's claims of night demons and instead found something far less dangerous, if no less chilling. in a large alcove that had clearly been carved into the side of the tunnel, we found our "Vekshah" surrounded in the dark by hundreds of amphora and pottery pieces. Light from our torches revealed the supposed monsters to be nothing more than statues, though I will admit they were unnerving.

Seven figures of varying size and shape waited in the alcove, they were statues carved from a dark volcanic rock and shaped to proportions ranging from squat to gangly. Of particular note was the pupilless white stone used to represent the figure's eyes, it lent them a ghoulish air. Of particular note was how detailed the faces were, they seemed almost alive thanks to the skill with which their facial features had been carved. I do not know the significance of their shapes, some were tall and bore arms thin as sticks, others were fat and short, but they clearly served some important significance. Once again I have little to go by with regards to an explanation, memorials for the deceased? deities? I can only speculate as to their presence and importance.

A team of trained excavators is now in the midst of removing the statues from the tunnels, they will be preserved and then displayed in the grand museum of Iterian antiquities. Please do not mistake me for a superstitious old fool, I do not believe in night demons, but I will admit that the style and shape of those figures were unnerving, they represented something lifelike and yet oddly alien from any artistic depiction I have ever seen. I will not be viewing those white-eyed shades when the city finally re-opens the museum, but I have recommended Stanley for the position of Curator.

Once again do not mistake me for a superstitious old fool, but the tunnels we explored were but a small segment of a much larger network, were any other sections to be uncovered who knows what might be waiting in the dark. For my part, I have decided to return to Domos, the faculty is now largely unified and reinvigorated by its latest discovery and I much prefer my collection of Dembe era sculptures to the fearful things left in the dark by the long dead.
 
6 October 2021
1:02 pm
On a Wednesday

The Badlands outside of Yatzmit, Iraelia


"Leif! Leif come here!" Arit called out, as she looked up with a wide-eyed gaze as she looked upon the mural. What she was seeing...it was all too much.

Lief Amundsen wiped some of the sweat away from his brow as he trekked across the dig site. This fucking Iterian heat was too much. He gulped down another third of his water bottle.
"What is it Arit?" he asked as he entered the relative sanctuary from the heat that was the grotto in the side of the mountainside.
"We're evacuating the city mount and the masonry is something else..."

"Forget the masonry," Arit replied softly. Leif was shocked. All good archaeology was dependent on the small stuff. Trash heaps, street layouts. Masonry. And Arit Nissim was a good archaeologist. They must have found something in the grotto chamber.

"'cause I'm not really excited about more Mother Goddess reliefs and...oh my God..."

Leif stood there, his eyes wide as he saw the mural before him. Like Arit he almost didn't know what to focus on first. Arit nodded as she moved beside him.
"I've never seen anything like it. This might be the most comprehensively complete Lost Empire iconography ever discovered."

"I..." Lief began, forcing himself to tear his attention away from the mural.
"You know what they say about being premature..."

"Just look at it though," Arit insisted. Lief had to agree.

"I'll get the camera crew in here."




"You look like you're drenched," Arit said with a chuckle as she joined Lief in the main tent.

"Fucking Iterian weather," Lief chuckled.

"Well look at it this way," Arit replied.
"It beats piles of snow back in Býkonsviði."

"Ha!" Lief chuckled, drinking more water.
"It's not too bad. October is fall weather. It's actually really pretty with the leaves changing colour."

"Well I'll have to see that some day," Arit replied as she sat down next to Lief, who had a heavy duty laptop open on the table.

"We can talk about sightseeing later," Lief replied.
"Let's look at what you found..." he pulled up a series of pictures of the grotto mural.

"Look here," look at this intricate engraving," Arit said, pointing to the screen.

"Já," Lief replied.
"We have a team analyzing the surface right now. We're going to know what the paints used were...but we won't need to."

"So many coloured gems and stones," Arit replied with a nod pointing to the main mural.
"And they appear to be valuable. You know what that means, right?"

"Já," Lief said with a nod.
"Hundreds of thousands of years, and no scavenger ever pried these things off. We're the first people to see this thing since..."

"Since the Lost Empire itself," Arit said, finishing Lief's sentence.

"Do we want to talk about what this is though?" Lief asked pointing to the mural.

"You know what it is," Arit replied, sighing.
"There's not much room for interpretation."

"The question," Lief said, "is whether it's purely symbolic, or accurate. And to what degree? If it's accurate...can it be used as a map?"

"We'll need to talk to Professor Davida," Arit muttered as she moved over to her own laptop.
"He's going to...I don't even know," she said, sounding giddy.

"He'll be ecstatic. Imagine. Hollow Eras. If it's real? What this could mean?"

"The mural speaks for itself," Arit replied, referring to the symbolic representation of a series of passageways and chambers inside what appeared to be a representation of the planet.

Lief nodded, studying the pictures as Arit sent them all to Professor Davida, when his cellphone rang.

"Dr. Amundsen," he answered.
"Wait, what's going on? Ok, já, I'm with her. We're coming," he said as he hung up.

"What's the matter?" Arit asked.

"They found something interesting with the paint analysis. They want us to see."

"This thing keeps on giving," Arit replied as the two left their tent, only to find themselves face to face with armed men.

"Dr. Nissim, Dr. Amundsen?" a bald man in desert fatigues asked. Arit and Lief looked around...their colleagues and contracted help were all forced to their knees at gunpoint.

"Yes," Arit said, defiantly.
"What's going on? Who are you?"

The bald man smiled slyly.
"My good doctors," he began, "my name is Faza. And you may rejoice. Your research will now serve a higher purpose. For now it serves the Ten Rings."
 
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13 May 1982
5:29 pm
On a Thursday

The South Pole

“Get your hands off of me!” Dr. Bamdat Razmi protested as he shook off the guards before turning his attention to the man with the neatly trimmed goatee and slicked back black hair. The man, like him, was Stakhri. Shared nationality, however, wasn't a guarantee of hospitality.

“How did you even get here?” Bamdat demanded. It was a good question. An undertaking to the south pole was hardly something just anyone could do, even a terrorist group.

“We have deeper connections then you could imagine, Doctor,” the man who seemed to be leading the armed thugs replied calmly.

“Just tell me you bribed the government,” Bamdat shot back.
“And spare me your aloof proclamations.”

The man merely smirked in the biting cold.
“Come, let's get out of this cold. There's much to discuss and your camp’s research site will make an excellent refuge from the cold.”

Bamdat followed the man in, trying to keep a brave face as the two other members of his research team were kept on their knees at gunpoint. And then he saw it. A reason to be even more concerned. The banner hung on the wall- crimson, with ten interlocking rings in black.

“You people, I should have known,” Bamdat grumbled as an armed man forced him to sit in the nearest chair.

“Haha,” the leader of the men chuckled.
“Yes, us.”

“The government should have wiped you all out years ago,” Bamdat muttered.

“Such brave words from a man held at gunpoint, and whose captures hold the lives of his colleagues in their hands.”

“I have no room in my life for fanaticism. And even less desire to accommodate it,” the doctor insisted.

“I respect a man of conviction, even if they are not my own,” the leader of the armed men said.
“My name, Doctor,” he added as he sat across from Bamdat, “is Payam Arius. And I was hoping you and I could have a talk.”

Bamdat’s face went white. He'd heard that name before. Specially the surname.
“You're…”

“Yes…” Payam replied, removing his gloves. And Bamdat saw them, three rings on his left hand and two on his right.
“I am the one who will unite Stakhr.”

“Stakhr is united,” Bamdat grumbled.

“By opportunistic generals and political cogs,” Payam shot back.

“You're just a fanatic, holding onto a dead family name. Look at you. Clinging to jewelry like it gives you power. You don't even have all ten.”

Payam smiled and stood, as an armed soldier kept Bamdat seated. Payam walked behind him and leaned down, whispering “not yet,” in his ear before he began to pace.

“But a discussion of the political future of our homeland is not why I have followed you to the ends of Eras, Doctor. That will have to wait until later. No, I’m here to discuss something far more...wide reaching.”

“You're political and religious fanatics,” Bamdat insisted.
“What could our research possibly offer you?”

“You fail to understand simple concepts,” Payam chuckled.

“Enough!” Bamdat insisted, causing Seema Bilpodiwala, a grad student, to begin crying.

“Please Dr. Razmi, they'll kill us!”

Bamdat looked at Payam who smiled menacingly. And he hung his head, defeated.
“What do you want?”

“That's more like it, Doctor,” Payam said softly.
“What we want is the entrance.”

Bamdat looked up.
“Hollow Eras is merely a theory, and you want us to show you the entrance. We don't even know if such a place exists.”

“And yet,” Payam replied, “you are here at the south pole. Looking.”

“Conducting research!” Bamdat corrected.

“Fairly well provisioned for a research party,” Payam insisted.

“Even if we were here looking, we wouldn't have found it,” Bamdat insisted.
“And what could possibly be gained if we did? What would the Ten Rings gain from such a discovery?”

“The knowledge within,” Payam replied.
“And the power that comes with it.”

Bamdat gulped.
“We haven't found it,” he whispered.
“If we did...for the sake of my colleagues, I’d tell you.”

“My dear Doctor,” Payam replied, adjusting one of the rings on his left hand.
“I’m well aware of your failures.”

Payam turned to one of the soldiers and nodded. The violent, cold flash of light of gunfire filled the research station. And soon the task was done.

“Secure the research. Everything they have.”

Payam yanked the limp body of Bamdat Razmi by the hair, pulling the head back. He reached under the dead man’s jacket and shirt and found it. A necklace around his neck holding a ring. One of ten. Payam yanked the chain from the corpse’s neck. Now he had six, as he slipped the ancient ring onto his right ring finger.

“One step closer to discovering the secrets of our world. And one step closer to gaining the mantle of the Satrap.”
 
July 17th, 1890

Dearest Maria,

The King himself has smiled on our works! His men from the household agency arrived eight or nine days ago with all manner of workers and contraption to aid us. They've brought proper tents, digging machines and electric lights! I must say I felt rather silly as I nearly blinded myself staring into the filament, grossly incandescent as it was. These marvels have fast excelled our work. Just two weeks ago we were barley unearthing the ruin and today we have excavated enough to begin the expedition. This site is much like the last, we seem to be at the precipice of another ancient and deep road or catacomb, although this one is in far better condition. Once we emplace the proper shoring we will begin the delve, and I must say I am relived to have the Kings men here. I consider myself a prodigy of anthropology (I know you'll roll your eyes at that) but engineering is beyond me, and I'm not keen to nearly get caught in a cave in like the last time. By the time this letter reaches you I am sure I will be far below, but know I will be writing and will send home on any of our excursions back to the surface. Give my love to the Casan and Galia. I know they resent me for this time away but someday they'll know it is all for them.

All my love,
Terian
 
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