RE: Crisis Cycles
03-07-2021, 05:01 PM
The disaster that consumed the moon left countless casualties in its wake. The arch-traitor Usurper Beast dealt horrible destruction to the new rulers, just as he did the old, and palaces and fortresses alike were consumed by the sweeping fire and nothingness. Cut off from the Deep Red, scoured and scorched, the survivors of the moon turned once more upon each other and the trapped dwarves and ghouls who were not able to retreat in time. Destruction and ruination left little of the lunar spacefaring infrastructure intact, and for a time, the moon was cut off from the surface-folk completely.
Upon the surface, lunar survivors congregated in the Desolate Coast of the far west. There, a new order was built by the surviving soldiers and officers of the combined lunar armies. Tyranny and oppression reigned for some years, but the lunar soldiers, though technologically superior and able to repair their equipment with any old scrap, were vastly outnumbered by the locals and distrusted each other as much as they distrusted the surfacers. Meanwhile, the Orokkon worked pragmatically with whoever they could to improve their own standing, aligning with the Copperites at times and throwing them under the bus at others, and taught themselves the intricacies of lunar technology so that they would once again regain their own advantage. The Copperites, for their part, tried to stand tall in spite of their new masters, and the rebel assaults on the Empire's bases - though unable to topple the lunar overlords in one swoop - were too numerous to ignore. This slow war won the Copperites (and the Orokkon who pragmatically threw in with them sometimes) many concessions, eventually completely breaking down the distinction between the rulers and the ruled.
A century of immersion in surface culture led to the lunar folk finding out more about how they used to live under Noble Synodia, before the Usurper Beast and before the Penumbra Pact, and many yearned to return to those utopian days, when all lunar species worked together in harmony. As the second century reached its end, it was actually being led by an Orokkon noble, descended from the khan, who organized its transition into a more egalitarian federal republic; the United Cities of the Desolate Coast. Though the wounds of the past still ache, and the landscape still bears the poisoned scars of the invasion, generations have passed, and some on both sides have come to forgive their onetime enemies - though only time will tell if enough can find this forgiveness to have this new republic last.
Of those lunar soldiers stranded in the Plague Plateau, they had few places to escape to. They scattered to the four winds, joining Orcish herder bands who would not ask their origins, or throwing down their arms to take sanctuary with the Gadesu and Ranitezia, fleeing into the secret places of the jungle to align with the Shangal, or even going further afield in search of a place to call home. Many ended up seeking out their long-lost brethren in the mountains, taking their broken ships to the Bastion, both lunar remnants now alike in being betrayed and made leaderless by the Usurper. Though trust was hard to come by after the short-but-bloody war, the two sides ended up uniting in the goal of finally repairing the Bastion, and maybe one day taking it back to the stars, to travel further than any had traveled before.
Eventually, contact was reestablished with the moon by way of new spacefaring gyrocopters, and this time it was far more guarded and heavily armed, in case of a new assault. But the moon they found was not the moon they'd fought generations ago. The collapse of the seven factions had left the moon a patchwork mess of technologically-backwards petty kingdoms ruling the flattened surface. A united dwarven-ghoulish remnant ruled one of the great flats, defending themselves in dwarf-delved fortresses armed with ghoulish defenses. The dwarf-ghoul remnant was more than happy to open up trade with the surface, welcoming the spacefarers to their adopted home. Many lunar monarchs refused to follow suit, isolating themselves from the surface out of a fear of repeating the past. Unlike their brethren who had been trapped on the surface, they'd had limited opportunities to interact with and normalize their opinion of surface folk, and many would go on to lead ill-fated assaults on surfacer explorers and trade caravans. But now the power and technology was aligned with the surface countries, able to easily slap down any petty moon monarchs who moved against them. But as of the bicentennial of the end of the war, they have yet to make a move...
Upon the surface, lunar survivors congregated in the Desolate Coast of the far west. There, a new order was built by the surviving soldiers and officers of the combined lunar armies. Tyranny and oppression reigned for some years, but the lunar soldiers, though technologically superior and able to repair their equipment with any old scrap, were vastly outnumbered by the locals and distrusted each other as much as they distrusted the surfacers. Meanwhile, the Orokkon worked pragmatically with whoever they could to improve their own standing, aligning with the Copperites at times and throwing them under the bus at others, and taught themselves the intricacies of lunar technology so that they would once again regain their own advantage. The Copperites, for their part, tried to stand tall in spite of their new masters, and the rebel assaults on the Empire's bases - though unable to topple the lunar overlords in one swoop - were too numerous to ignore. This slow war won the Copperites (and the Orokkon who pragmatically threw in with them sometimes) many concessions, eventually completely breaking down the distinction between the rulers and the ruled.
A century of immersion in surface culture led to the lunar folk finding out more about how they used to live under Noble Synodia, before the Usurper Beast and before the Penumbra Pact, and many yearned to return to those utopian days, when all lunar species worked together in harmony. As the second century reached its end, it was actually being led by an Orokkon noble, descended from the khan, who organized its transition into a more egalitarian federal republic; the United Cities of the Desolate Coast. Though the wounds of the past still ache, and the landscape still bears the poisoned scars of the invasion, generations have passed, and some on both sides have come to forgive their onetime enemies - though only time will tell if enough can find this forgiveness to have this new republic last.
Of those lunar soldiers stranded in the Plague Plateau, they had few places to escape to. They scattered to the four winds, joining Orcish herder bands who would not ask their origins, or throwing down their arms to take sanctuary with the Gadesu and Ranitezia, fleeing into the secret places of the jungle to align with the Shangal, or even going further afield in search of a place to call home. Many ended up seeking out their long-lost brethren in the mountains, taking their broken ships to the Bastion, both lunar remnants now alike in being betrayed and made leaderless by the Usurper. Though trust was hard to come by after the short-but-bloody war, the two sides ended up uniting in the goal of finally repairing the Bastion, and maybe one day taking it back to the stars, to travel further than any had traveled before.
Eventually, contact was reestablished with the moon by way of new spacefaring gyrocopters, and this time it was far more guarded and heavily armed, in case of a new assault. But the moon they found was not the moon they'd fought generations ago. The collapse of the seven factions had left the moon a patchwork mess of technologically-backwards petty kingdoms ruling the flattened surface. A united dwarven-ghoulish remnant ruled one of the great flats, defending themselves in dwarf-delved fortresses armed with ghoulish defenses. The dwarf-ghoul remnant was more than happy to open up trade with the surface, welcoming the spacefarers to their adopted home. Many lunar monarchs refused to follow suit, isolating themselves from the surface out of a fear of repeating the past. Unlike their brethren who had been trapped on the surface, they'd had limited opportunities to interact with and normalize their opinion of surface folk, and many would go on to lead ill-fated assaults on surfacer explorers and trade caravans. But now the power and technology was aligned with the surface countries, able to easily slap down any petty moon monarchs who moved against them. But as of the bicentennial of the end of the war, they have yet to make a move...