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Thema: verbliebende Texte zum Übersetzen Stand 3.4.2010

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    verbliebende Texte zum Übersetzen Stand 3.4.2010

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_ALTAR_OF_THE_LUONNOTAR_STRATEGY

    The first 6 pieces of the Altar can only be created by sacrificing a Great Prophet, and even then only by Good or Neutral civilizations. The last piece has to be built.


    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_CATACOMB_LIBRALUS_PEDIA

    Sebill arrived at a door marked "Acquisitions." The coachman escorted her to the door and gave it two hard knocks. It opened to reveal a miniscule butcher. The dwarf looked up at the coachman and noted Sebill. "Good! Good!" he said and ushered them into what looked like a carpenter's workshop-only one in which the wood bled when cut. "I commend you on your haste; we here are great appreciators of body magic, you know. You ought to be well paid for your effort. Do you need new horses?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"They are well," answered the coachman, "they're of strong breed and can withstand the spells. With enough food and rest tonight they'll have their stamina back."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"They're fine animals, aren't they?" the dwarf said affably, clearing tools off a table. He was joined by a graying female dwarf wearing an equally dirty apron. "Splendid!" she said. "Let's get started. I'm Odea, he's Hahm, in case he didn't introduce himself."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Anton," said the coachman.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Odea turned to examine Sebill. "Let's get a look at you... Even better than I expected! Let's get you on the table." Anton stepped forward to help lift Sebill, but saw it was unnecessary as Odea, despite her size, moved Sebill to the dwarf-sized table without effort. Odea smiled, "She's empty. No organs. I asked our clients in Nubia to clean her to prevent spoiling. Kept out of the sun the bodies can make the trip in adequate shape." Anton nodded. Odea thought he seemed uneasy. "I'm sorry, did you know her?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"No, no... I have no idea who she is, or why she's important to the nobles. She doesn't look like an aristocrat." He paused, then motioned toward the door, "I have the rest of the delivery in my carriage."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Her blood I'm sure. Would you fetch that? Hahm needs to check it and make sure the preservers held up. There are a number of naturally occurring blood thinners in just about every land, but ours are better. I have some theories about speeding the reactions to make the ink less corrosive, but that would require entropy mana which can be hard to come by..."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Outside, Anton gave the blood to Hahm and moved his horses into the shade. This was his first visit to the Luchuirp lands. He admitted to himself that he'd always been a little racist toward dwarves, but couldn't think of any reason why. He looked at and admired the structure of the Catacomb Libralus; from what he'd heard he assumed it was nothing more than a one-trick curiosity shop. It was originally built as a catacomb open to all, until necromancers developed a habit of exploiting it, leading to the pejoration of the name "Free-Use Catacombs." Later it was acquired by a wealthy polymath, who turned it into the institution that is now commonly nicknamed the "Catacomb Librarius." Above ground it was a simple structure with short walls and an entrance adorned with arches and pillars.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Anton returned to the workshop to see Odea in the process of skinning Sebill. Incisions ran up the middle of her chest, along her collarbone, and above her hips. Odea was paring the fatty membrane holding skin to muscle as she pulled the skin upward. Anton groaned at the sight, which alerted Odea that he'd returned. She explained, her enthusiasm outweighing her sympathy for Anton's uneasiness, "The skin's in good shape. We use it all. Her back-because its smoother and thicker-will be tanned and used to make the cover. The rest we stretch into vellum for the pages." Odea paused, Anton was staring at Sebill's body. "It's not pretty, I know. This is an honorable afterlife though. I used to do golemcraft, but animating a golem is like rolling a stone down a hill-it's predictable, it's all it does. Books are the perfect synthesis of form and function, body and spirit, mythos and logos. They are us in every way." She put down her knife, and Anton sat on short ladder. Odea continued, "We can put any talent to use here. Do you practice magic?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I do some, just tricks to help my deliveries-speed the horses, hide my wares. Just dabblings."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Ice! Imagine what you could do with ice mana! We could add people from any corner of Erebus to our collection. You could make your fortune just transporting food to soldiers. Ah, if only we could get some..." Anton laughed. He'd thought of this before. Odea continued, "We use a range of magic here: body helps us transform the person, but that's mostly handiwork; our diviners use spirit magic to contact the dead; and enchanters can infuse the books with special properties. Luckily we're in a land where necromancy is outlawed, or we'd have a lot to worry about. Should I take you to see some of our collection?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Thank you," he replied, "but I have to stable my horses first. I should find an inn."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Fine by me. I need to work and I can't have distractions. Come back later for a tour." Odea smiled, "Now get out of here."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]A week had passed since Anton delivered Sebill. He'd gone north to meet a Calabim rendezvous who took the carriage, leaving Anton with a horse. Now returning to the fortified city, he spent the evening at a public house, waiting for nightfall. He made his way back to the Catacomb Libralus and to the door marked "Acquisitions." He knocked. If Odea answered he'd have an excuse for being there. If she didn't, then things would be according to plan. He picked the lock and slipped inside. There was barely any light and he waited for his eyes to adjust. The tables were clean and the tools put away. A door in back opened to a lantern-lit corridor.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]When he entered the main hall he realized he'd underestimated the age and grandeur of this place. He thought the library at his former mages' guild was large, but he'd never seen this many books. The hall was lined with shelves of books in every skin color, all facing out. Numerous corridors descended into the catacombs, all filled with books. Anton despaired when he wondered how he would find a single book in all this, until he saw the years inscribed above the corridors' arches.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He entered the most recent corridor, which had just started to be used in the last five years. He walked straight to the end of the row. A small engraving was underneath the last book. Some Malakim name; the book was too dark anyway and had a tattoo of a lion on the cover. The second-to-last book was a pale tan, like a dry meadow. The engraving underneath read "unknown" and named the year of death. The book before that was grayish green and had a single horn jutting out from the spine. He picked up the tan one. It was about two hands tall and a little less wide. The cover was soft-it was leather after all. The spine was sturdy. Bone? He imagined it was her sternum, and thought of her breasts, one skinless, the other just dead. He opened the cover and ran his finger along the inside spine. The pages were sewn to the cover using string made of brown hair. There was writing on the first page, in ink that was still reddish and had not faded into brown. It said: My dear Ain-You'll never read this, but please know that I love you eternally. A chill shook him. He tucked Sebill's book into his pack and returned to the main hall.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He looked at the dates above the arches, and walked down the next corridor. Both sides of the corridor were lined with books facing each other. A jumble of names grew in his head as he scanned the engravings.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Are you looking for something, Anton?" He spun to see Odea in the middle of the corridor. She looked relaxed; he tried his best to appear the same. Her apron was gone and she was dressed comfortably, striking Anton as quite pretty.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Um... yes. A book. A book of... my grandfather."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Anything else?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"...No."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"What was his name?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Anton glanced toward the main hall to see if Odea was alone. "Gerard Cormand."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I know of him! Quite the revolutionary in his day. Did you know him?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I didn't. My father opposed his politics and left the city, taking his family along. I was born on a farm."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Your grandfather was murdered before the revolution ended, wasn't he?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Yes. I have to know that it wasn't... my father."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Your grandfather is here," she pointed farther down the corridor. Anton cautiously followed her lead. "Our diviners enjoy limited success as a writing tool for the dead, allowing them to make a final statement."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"The dead write?" probed Anton.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"We ask them if there's anything they'd like to say. They're usually thinking about what they would have done differently in life, so they're full of advice. They might eulogize themselves, or tell their entire life's story-we give the diviners a short vacation to recover after those. These are good souls, mind you; we don't even want to know the dangers of making an unscrupulous book."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"That woman," thought Anton, "what had she done to make her so valuable to the Calabim?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Victims of murder usually have something to say..." Odea stopped walking and motioned toward a book, smaller than Sebill's and paler.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Anton said, "Would he have named his killer?" Odea didn't answer, and Anton lifted his grandfather's book. He opened it and read: I liked the fleshy sins best. He turned the pages: blank. He sighed deeply, and put the book down. Odea took a step back. "Are you going to return the other book too?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Anton faced Odea with a widened stance. "No. I'm sorry, but I'm stealing it." He held a knife at her eye level and took a slow step toward her.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I can't stop you," she said calmly. "This is a mistake though. These books are extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. They must never leave."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I know. Your ‘clients' haven't given me any choice though." They circled each other in a cautious dance. Seeing the main hall clear, Anton left through the front door.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Outside the city walls, Anton snuck to his horse, mounted her, and pointed her back north. He hadn't ridden far when a sudden strong wind, or that's what it felt like, threw him off his horse, spilling his pack. He saw in the dark the looming shape of a gargoyle, its wings blocking the light from the city. He ran, and would have died on the spot if it weren't for his haste spell. Instead, he died at the forest's edge a short length away, while the Book of Sebill remained beside the road.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_GREAT_LIBRARY_PEDIA

    The library's majesty would be a thing of legend. Sebill's view from the fifth floor spanned from the northern slums out to Nubia's western wall and beyond that to where the countryside was trampled underfoot by mountains. Moving a crate of books, new acquisitions from the latest campaigns, she broke her gaze from the window. She was at odds with herself; technically, she'd achieved her goal and become a chief librarian at the world's greatest library. It was what she had promised her childhood friends she'd do, then they in turn would dream up something they thought was even more fantastic. Yet here she was. Slaving. Forced into her wishes' fulfillment by ravenous men under a new moon.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Her town was alight with burning houses as she woke to the screams. She shook her husband awake, scrambled for her weapon, and used it on the first blood-drenched man who burst into the bedroom. His comrades behind him overpowered her. All she could remember feeling at that moment was insult at the fact that they showed no desire to kill her. Instead, one man constrained her on the bed while they dragged her husband outside. She shrieked and swung her fists, until an attacker brought a torch into the room. In the light the men saw the bedroom and its bookshelf-lined walls. Their faces flushed with joy and they shouted congratulations to each other. That was when they knocked her unconscious.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][NEWLINE][BOLD]...there's no noise what's going on? I'm deaf no I'm dead oh good there's noise the chains oh damn me the chains. How dare they keep me down here what did they do to her the next time one of them comes down here I'll wrap these chains around him... Where is everybody I'm alone I'm alone they'll never come for me I'll die here what have they done with her I'll starve here if my heart doesn't explode first I just want to tear them to pieces! Can't stop shaking the walls are too noisy I can't hear myself how can I... Huh? They're coming those are footsteps I'll kill them and I'll get out and find her oh I'll never see her again... One footsteps two feet could it be her they don't sound hard... oh my angel what if it's her she's come to kill me oh my angel it is her![\BOLD][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Sebill hadn't seen her husband since. And now there she was, the woman she'd always wanted to be. Only the library wasn't what she'd hoped for. It was supposed to be a paragon of learning, open to all, with a collection spanning history and all of Erebus. This was a perversion, a library of spoils, built on the sudden whim of that monstrous queen Alexis to actually know something about the people she and her brother were slaughtering. And she'd let Flauros build it! It was a wonder he had any slaves left over to clean up the blood of those who built it. Sebill was horrified to hear that Alexis had been the one to finally build Erebus's greatest library, now known as the Library of Alexis. Sebill never wanted anything to do with it, but now she was its chief archivist. It was more of a wound than a title. Still, she had books. She passed the time by imagining that the library had been built by someone else: perhaps in the Kuriotate lands it would be a bridge across race and politics; in Amurite lands its knowledge would be treated with proper respect.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Books, protected by sturdy leather covers, were durable and could last ages if properly cared for. But books in Erebus were only as permanent as societies allowed. Warring nations expunged conquered peoples' libraries with the rest of their culture. The Age of Ice preserved the previous ages' treasures well, as long as firewood was more plentiful than books. The real damage came with the destruction of literate societies who knew the value of old histories and treatises. Still, Sebill thought, maybe Alexis's collection will serve some good in the long run. Perhaps Sebill's dreams were not totally lost. Spending her days cataloging family histories, journals, folktales, scientific works, philosophies, and everything else brought in from homes and palace libraries gave her faith that one day this could be shared with the world.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]She unloaded the books onto the table-They were her books. She stared at them, telling herself that this was inevitable, and yet she was holding the books that belonged to her and her former neighbors. She tried to detach herself, but opening the covers felt like tearing new flesh off wounds. "Is this the last I'll ever see of my life?" she despaired. One book confirmed that it would be: a ledger, a report of the raid on her town.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][NEWLINE][BOLD]it's her it's her she came for me she sees me she'll kill me I have to kill her I'm scared I hate her I hate those men that's a sharp knife I'm going to die I should die I'm worthless I'm afraid hate hate them her skin cuts so fine[\BOLD][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Come on you. Drink up."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][BOLD]blood! she's bleeding I can taste it already these chains hurt I want her to notice me let me go I must taste her fingers the cut is so sharp I can feel the cut on my tongue I'm okay I'll be okay she loves me I'm home I'm hers her hand is so soft it could tear me to pieces I want her to she can have me all in little bits she'll protect me my angel my angel I'll climb under her shadow her dress I'll be engulfed in her darkness her peaceful darkness she'll hold me and I'll be okay I'll be hers I'll be nothing in her abyss she loves me she will always protect me...[\BOLD][NEWLINE][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Sneaking out was unnecessary. Sebill doubted it was because they trusted her; perhaps they were certain they could find her if she ran off. The masters ignored other slaves, but had to address her because of the role they gave her. Eye contact was rare, but they had an odd way of acknowledging her presence by letting her know they were smelling her. Tonight she was betting they wouldn't find her quickly enough.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The ledger had listed the spoils, the "acquisitions." House #6 Contents. Books: 156. Woman: Educated: For especial use, she read. Man: Drunk, superior physical condition: For conscription in Red Barracks. Weapons only other items of value. She knew of the so-called "Red Barracks." Other librarians spoke fearfully, sorrowfully, of their loved ones sent there.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]She agonized during the following nights. After her life had been destroyed her only possible comfort was having all the world's books and time enough at last to read. Now that had become her hell. The only truth she wanted was outside the library. She had to find the Red Barracks.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]And she did. She was ushered right in through the front doors the moment she was spotted sneaking underneath a window. She protested, feigned ignorance, fought, but was pulled before a woman wrapping her hand in a bandage. Sebill froze; her. Alexis looked at Sebill with a sneer.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Mistress, we found her snooping. She looks like-"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I don't care what she is. Come. Bring her." She turned and walked with her saturating, scarlet-bandaged hand at her side.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Bring her in here."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Sebill was thrown to the floor in a small, windowless room. The light from the room outside shone past her, and onto a man chained to the wall. Sebill bounced to her feet, but was stunned when she saw him.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Ain! Oh!" she shouted and ran to him. He stared at her without recognition and his lips trembled with senseless mutterings. Alexis entered the room and watched with contempt as Sebill tried to get Ain to look at her. Ain was transfixed by Alexis. Suddenly a look of eagerness showed on his face and he noticed Sebill for the first time.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Ain! It's me, dear!" She shook Ain and rubbed his cheeks in growing hysteria. Her eyes widened in both fear and hope when Ain looked at her. In him she saw savagery mixed with his eagerness to please. Four eyes with four different emotions looked at each other across the chasm of their broken lives. Ain then looked to Alexis, who remained still and observant in the doorway. She was glad-tonight she had something interesting to give the new recruit. She was losing interest in tossing unsatisfactory guards to these things.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Sebill, nearly sobbing, tried futilely to find her husband in this man. Ain, however, flourished in the queen's attention. Sebill was too confused to react when Ain grabbed her throat and throttled her. He found little resistance from her body as Alexis's blood burned inside him. His wife's essence slipped away and Ain looked to his queen for affirmation.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_PAGAN_TEMPLE_PEDIA

    [TAB]"The priests of Sirona tell you to show compassion, to give to those that are suffering. But Temeluchus requires more devotion than that. We cannot appease our guilt by dropping a few coins into a beggar's cup and then return to our own lavish homes. To truly share the burden we must suffer as the least among us. We must become as poor as the beggar, as weak as the sick, and as helpless as our own prisoners.[PARAGRAPH:1]How can you fear suffering when there are those just outside your door that do it every day? It is better for you to bleed with them than to live above them!"[PARAGRAPH:1]The crowd cheered. They were a mix of voluntary poor and the normal Patrian lower class, those that had attended before and those hearing the message for the first time. Some of the devout began to break open rough sores along their arms, allowing their blood to flow down onto their hands. Most had done it so many times that their forearms were stained brown.[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth was still disgusted by that part of the religion, but compared to the trials of physical pain giving a few more gold coins seems a small loss. The man who isn't willing to sacrifice his blood gives more gold in guilty compensation, and the man willing to destroy his own flesh will give everything he owns without thought.[PARAGRAPH:1]As they had many times before the crowd quickly filled Laroth's donation plates. Laroth stayed after, talking to the fanatical that regaled him with increasingly horrific stories of their own self-mutilation. Laroth made no comment to his own suffering, though most supposed it was great and they enviously eyed the dark stains that slipped from his robe and covered up both of his hands. Though they had no idea it was only the stains from a daily wash of beet juice. There was no reason to make sacrifices to a god Laroth made up himself.[PARAGRAPH:1]When the crowd was finally gone there were only two left in the small shrine to Temeluchus, a man in a deep green cloak, and an odd boy sitting beside him who wore a pumpkin colored shirt. The boy was thin, awkward and unwilling to meet Laroth's gaze when he looked at him. The man was powerfully built, and his clothes were richly detailed. Laroth was surprised he didn't notice him during the sermon, as he had a talent for noticing wealthy listeners, though Laroth sensed a greater power in him than just his wealth.[PARAGRAPH:1]The richly appointed man lowered the hood of his cloak to reveal his face. It was an easy one to recognize as it was on statues all across Patria. It was the Patrian king, Kylorin.[PARAGRAPH:1]"My king," Laroth stammered "I am honored that you would grace this small temple of Temeluchus."[PARAGRAPH:1]"The honor is mine, you are a powerful speaker and I found your sermon inspirational." He answered. Then after a pause he added, "Wasn't this a shrine to Arawn a few weeks ago?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth pretended to think as Kylorin rose and walked up to the front. The boy followed in his shadow.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Yes, I believe it was. Though why the fine citizens of Patria would want to throw gold into graves is beyond me. I think the priest was just keeping the donations for himself."[PARAGRAPH:1]"Indeed." Kylorin said with a smile.[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth suddenly remembered he was talking to the king and added a quick, "yes, I mean, of course your majesty." And then gave a slight bow.[PARAGRAPH:1]The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes at the genuflecting preacher.[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth raised his head to smile at the boy, that smile that had won over so many. Laroth wasn't an attractive man, he was spindly and bookish even in his late twenties. But men and women alike couldn't help but feel calm and comforted by his presence.[PARAGRAPH:1]But that was not how the boy reacted. The boy became enraged and leapt at Laroth. Laroth was so surprised that stepped back and tripped over the short railing around the altar sending both of them tumbling down in a clumsy pile of knees and elbows.[PARAGRAPH:1]"You're a donkey, you're a donkey," the boy yelled irrationally.[PARAGRAPH:1]In the confusion those words were all that Laroth could hear, feel or see. The world melted away until that was the only concept left in it. Laroth brayed loudly at the attacking boy, then rolling over onto all fours he began kicking wildly. His second kick caught the boy in the stomach and knocked him back over the railing where Kylorin caught him.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Henri! Stop it!" the king yelled.[PARAGRAPH:1]The delusion of being a donkey disappeared and Laroth found himself hunched on all fours by the altar. He hadn't been physically changed, but for those few seconds he truly believed he was a donkey. Embarrassed he picked himself up.[PARAGRAPH:1]"That boy, he did something to me!" Laroth said.[PARAGRAPH:1]Henri smiled, though his ribs still hurt he really enjoyed the sight of the braying and bucking preacher.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Perhaps," Kylorin said. "Though it could be said that you attacked him first."[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth didn't comment.[PARAGRAPH:1]Kylorin continued, "You convert a lot of people to your god. Many disciples go out and try to spread the message you have given them. They repeat your sermons but few convert to them. And after you leave a town the faithful always drift off and forget your message. Men so devoted that some punish themselves to the point of death gradually turn back to normal lives. Have you ever wondered why?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth winced when Kylorin mentioned the deaths. It was unfortunate that some took the message to far. Especially those that were closest to him, the longer he stayed in one area the more likely the fanatical deaths were. That was why he moved from city to city every few months.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I assume that I am blessed by Temeluchus. That I am the one he has chosen to spread his message."[PARAGRAPH:1]The boy scoffed again. Kylorin had stopped smiling.[PARAGRAPH:1]"That cannot be," Kylorin said, "because Temeluchus isn't real. You made him up. So then why do people so eagerly convert to your message, and ignore it from others?"[PARAGRAPH:1]"Temeluchus is a great god, during the godswar he..." Laroth started, ready to defend his god as he did many times to visiting priests and fanatics of other religions.[PARAGRAPH:1]Kylorin interrupted, "Your son, didn't he serve as an acolyte in your services?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth felt his passionate defense melt away, he only nodded to the question.[PARAGRAPH:1]"He was young," Kylorin said "11 or 12 years old. You were training him in your craft, teaching him to evangelize as you do. You had even told him the truth, that there was no Temeluchus, so that he wouldn't be in danger. What happened to his mother?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth looked at the ground, unwilling to meet the kings eyes. "She was one of my first converts, I was really little more than a boy myself at the time. She died in worship to Temeluchus."[PARAGRAPH:1]"So you raised your son on your own until he was old enough to work for you. He must have heard hundreds of sermons. But you thought that if he knew the truth, he would be safe. But even though you told him the truth, even though he saw you pocket the donations every night, even though he listened to you laugh at the gullible worshippers that came to your sermons, he still believed. And in secret he was worshipping Temeluchus. But you didn't know until you found him dead."[PARAGRAPH:1]Laroth broke down, dropping his head into his hands he sobbed and his sorrow flooded out of him, through the shrine and out into the city. Henri was also overcome and started crying as did many within blocks of the temple.[PARAGRAPH:1]Kylorin braced himself. He was guarded from the energy Laroth was radiating but even he hadn't expected how unintentionally powerful the preacher was. Kylorin knew Laroth had an amazing talent for spirit magic, that he would make a powerful archmage, but he hadn't expected it to flow so easily from the bookish preacher. Even through Kylorin's protections he felt the grip of his own sadness, though he quickly pushed it away.[PARAGRAPH:1]Kylorin placed a hand on Henri's shoulder, breaking the spell and the boy recovered from his sobs. Though angry, Henri was too exhausted by the flood of emotion and simply sat down in the front pew.[PARAGRAPH:1]In a few minutes Laroth regained his composure.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Why did you keep preaching after your son's death?" Kylorin asked, unwilling to let the painful subject go.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I stopped for a while," Laroth answered, wiping off his face with the sleeve of his robe. "But I'm not suited to be a farmer or cobbler. It's really all I do well. What else do I have to lose?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Kylorin and Laroth talked for the rest of the night. Kylorin explained magic, explained Laroth's power and offered him the opportunity to learn to control it. By morning the shrine was empty, though it would quickly be adopted by some random cult or religion, the worship of Temeluchus was over.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_PAGAN_TEMPLE_STRATEGY

    Use Pagan Temples to increase culture in your cities. Though they often host bizarre religions and cults they will address the spiritual needs of your people and increase the chances of receiving a Great Prophet.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_THE_NECRONOMICON_PEDIA

    As the sun set into the ocean, its colors multiplied and shone across the sedated waters. Dying light in grapefruit and blood-orange shades pierced the temple's windows and comingled with the blues and greens, never mixing. The lights shimmered across the town's rooftops, glowing like the tolling of church bells as worshippers walked to the ocean and temple. For some, worship was to admire the ocean, to be present at its show. Others preferred immersion, giving their bodies to the water (metaphorically) as a way of saying "I owe you everything." Inside the temple the faithful bathed in the flowing water, letting the incense riding in the thick air penetrate their skin. Their minds flowed with the water and gave way to visions and serenity. A Priest of Whispers watched over as the din of the chamber filled with echoes of mumblings, humming, and short cries of ecstasy.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Farther within the temple, Captain Grey-Eye of the Jury Rig raised his head after bowing to High Speaker The Bones of Its Mother Are Luminous Eyes.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"What have you brought us, Captain?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Grey-Eye was as faithful to the priests as any successful sea captain should be. He prayed regularly, both on the waves and on shore, and always gave a portion of his gold spoils back to the sea. Such spoils were what brought him before the Speaker in his hometown temple.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Rumors from the Calabim lands speak of rich bounties for a treasure they've apparently misplaced."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I know. The ebb and flow of water brings me news from around the world."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Then y'know better than I the significance of the Book of Sable; I know none more than what they've offered to pay."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The Speaker stared through unblinking, sunken eyes. He was hairless, pale, and skeletal but his voice was like the creaking of the Jury Rig's mast. He was Speaker when Grey-Eye worshipped here as a child and hadn't changed appearance.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I will pay anything you ask. However, when the bargaining is done I have a favor to ask of you."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"You're too generous, Your Resonance. If you're paying in Lanun coins, I'll take the Calabim's price. I accept the favor-what is it?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I'm sending a priestess with you on your ship. She has a mission and you will find her abilities useful. Leave the book on the altar. Your service has been invaluable as always, Captain." Grey-Eye bowed his head and was escorted away. The Speaker regarded the book in front of him. The cover was a lightly colored and flimsy leather, dirty and weathered. The pages were becoming brittle. Human flesh no doubt; a product of the Catacomb Libralus, whose books were well guarded by the golems. No books ever left that city, making the Book of Sable especially rare. The High Speaker knew it was not chance, but the will of the unseen that brought the book to this temple.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He carried the book to the chamber of dreamers beneath the temple, where pools and pillars formed from mineral and organic deposits. The blessed seawater flowed throughout as dreamers lay in small pools. He approached a dreamer, a female in her teenage years, whose hair undulated like living tendrils in the water beneath her. A clay jar by her head had the words "the book of dead names sees beyond the depths" etched into it. The Speaker gave the book to one of the dreamers' attendants and ordered that it be placed in an empty pool.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Speaker, do books dream?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"It is the ocean that dreams. We are blessed to be a part of it."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]A voice from one of the pools spoke, "the dreams of the unseen permeate all creation." Everyone awake in the room chanted in response, "the dreams of the unseen permeate all creation."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"And thus shall you be called," intoned the Speaker, his voice penetrating the sleep of the dreamer who spoke. He watched the attendant lay the book in the water. The attendant punctured a needle into the front cover, as he would into a vein, and lit the wick in the needle's tube. He did this out of habit; the book lacked the biology to carry the smoldering wax's substance throughout the bloodstream, but this was how the dreaming was induced.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]It was two hours before any change was noted. The Speaker still stood over the dreamers, patient, faithful, and curious. The teenage girl stirred and minds melded in the stream. Her limbs twitched as the lingering consciousness from the book felt forgotten corporeality.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Speak," commanded the Speaker. The girl remained silent and made small splashes as she moved. The Speaker said, "I seek the source of whispers."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He continued his commands until the girl settled down. Finally she spoke in her young voice, "I refuse."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"You are powerless to refuse. You will navigate the sea of dreams and find for me the source."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I can't move."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Tell me what you see."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I see everything. The dreams of everything. All at once, every one a shadow, fluid."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Look beyond them."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"There is only darkness beyond the dreams."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Go there. I compel you." His voice reverberated in the chamber. He had not chosen to pursue this. He didn't consider it a choice. He was following the will of his masters, as spoken through the dreamers.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Whispers... I feel them... Pressure... I can't understand them, but every syllable crushes me..."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Move toward it. I will speak to it."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"There's a being-shapeless, immense... there's... an eye-"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]At that moment the temple erupted with shrieks and wails of terror and pain. The Speaker fell forward and moaned, devoid of any thought or function. The young dreamer convulsed and died. At the temple's entrance worshippers ran into the town, possessed of nightmarish panic. They dashed themselves into walls and gouged at their throats with any tool available, trying to wake themselves from the nightmare they were in fact not in. Others remained in the temple, writhing and gurgling in the blessed water. Either they were stronger than the others, or perhaps more susceptible to the climactic vision, but they survived nonetheless. Of that moment, all could remember nothing more than the color yellow.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The temple was soon reopened for public worship. The surviving worshippers who rose to prominence joined the remaining priests. They became the caretakers of the temple that housed the Book of Sable, on whose pages appeared the names of the faithful who died for the Lord of Nightmares on that day.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_THEATRE_PEDIA

    [TAB]"I'm sure you've seen the play before, I hope the Elohim performance was enjoyable for you."[PARAGRAPH:1]A courtier refilled Ethne's wine glass. She and Dain were both seated at the end of a long table where noblemen, diplomats, actors and other artists were all starting a magnificent feast to celebrate the performance. Ethne smiled and spoke easily with the courtier, calling him by his first name and treating him as a friend, not a servant, as she did with everyone.[PARAGRAPH:1]"It was a beautiful play," Dain answered, "and although many perform the same play it is always interesting to see how each empire adds or changes the story to suit their tastes. But I must say that yours was the most beautiful, and without any of the illusions that we Amurites use in our shows."[PARAGRAPH:1]"The tailors struggled to compare to the beauty of the painters, the painters with our talented musicians, and our musicians with Sidney, our lovely lead. If only life were really that beautiful."[PARAGRAPH:1]"And as full of jealousy and heartlessness?" Dain quipped.[PARAGRAPH:1]Ethne's brow furrowed a bit at the comment. Dain instantly regretted it. He was here to firm up the diplomacy between their countries, something that would be required in the coming days. He needed the Elohim to go to war with the Infernal and had hoped to find an ally in the young queen, but now he worried that she was too compassionate to do what the world required, to go to war.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I saw a lot of hope in the story," Ethne responded after some thought, "eventually the tale ends well for everyone, especially for our humble heroine."[PARAGRAPH:1]"Perhaps. The story dates back to the Patrian empire, and it's interesting to see what has been changed in the Elohim version. It speaks well of the Elohim's gentle nature and kindness."[PARAGRAPH:1]"What has been changed from the original?" Ethne asked.[PARAGRAPH:1]The meal was served rich in butter and creams over vegetables and light on meat. Dain realized why Valledia hated these trips, as she was very fond of flanks of beef found in the Bannor and Hippus lands. She even enjoyed drinking and feasting with the Khazad, who Dain had little tolerance for.[PARAGRAPH:1]"For one," Dain said trying to capture a small potato on the end of his fork, "That wasn't her name. Her step-sisters made her work in the kitchen all day, including cleaning the chimney, which left her covered with black soot and cinders. And earned her the name they used to tease her."[PARAGRAPH:1]"Cinderella," Ethne said.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Right. And there was no carriage or fairy godmother. A tree grew on the grave of her mother, watered by her tears. Two birds in that tree brought her the dress and slippers. And at the end when the step-sisters tried to fit into the slipper one cut off her toe to fit into the slipper and the other cut off a portion of her heel."[PARAGRAPH:1]Ethne's eyes widened and others at the table quieted. The Elohim were wonderful hosts, but they weren't accustomed to talk of graves or mutilation at dinner. Dain thought again that he had gone too far and considered enchanting the pastries and causing them to dance around the table to draw attention from the conversation.[PARAGRAPH:1]"What does it say about the Patrians that they would tell the story so?" Ethne asked.[PARAGRAPH:1]Dain considered his answer carefully.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I think they loved the idea of the oppressed young maiden eventually being rewarded for her trials just as we do. But where we see a perfect solution that sets things right in the fairy godmother, they saw an option that was full of sorrow and hope in the birds. And where our story teaches that forgiveness and compassion transform everyone, even the wicked step-sisters are forgiven by the girl and go on to marry lords, the ancient version has them punished for their actions. The Patrians wanted to teach the audience that good people will earn their rewards, though they may have to suffer in the process. And that wicked people can not avoid their punishment indefinitely."[PARAGRAPH:1]"Which version to you like better?"[PARAGRAPH:1]By this point, though the rest of the table pretended to be absorbed in their soup, breads or examining their wine goblets they were all straining to hear the conversation. It was no longer about the play, though a few actors still thought it was, but about the war against the Infernal.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I wish that the current version could be true, but it is not that world that I am familiar with. I find it easier to laugh, cry and celebrate with the Cinderella in the Patrian story. And I would rather my children knew that there is sorrow in the world, and they can stand through it, rather than be surprised and unable to cope when they find it on their own."[PARAGRAPH:1]Ethne's eyes were so perfectly blue that it almost seemed they had based the color of their flag on them. "Do you know why I became queen?" Ethne asked.[PARAGRAPH:1]"No" Dain answered, "only that your people love you above all others."[PARAGRAPH:1]"It is because I have seen the disparity in the world, the hatred, the intolerance. I do not believe in a perfect world, but I want to make it so."[PARAGRAPH:1]"In that you have the full support of the Amurites." Dain answered. He had hoped that he was being subtle but Ethne was more clever than he gave her credit for.[PARAGRAPH:1]Courtiers began to clear the plates and the table fell back into talk more appropriate for dinner. Dain went down and personally congratulated Sidney, who was dressed in a beautiful blue and yellow dress, and the rest of the actors for their fine performance. They swooned in the compliments of the legendary archmage, and beamed when he offered to host their performance in Cevedes if they would visit.[PARAGRAPH:1]Ethne talked with the visiting diplomats and other guests. She was genuinely happy for news of new births and marriages and gave sincere condolences with any news of loss or hardship. She gave her heart and complete attention to each person she met and it was impossible not to be amazed by her.[PARAGRAPH:1]As the guests began to leave she stood by Dain thanking each person for coming. When everyone but a few personal retainers was gone she asked Dain, "In your story, I assume the Amurites are Cinderella and the wicked step-sisters are the Infernal?"[PARAGRAPH:1]"Yes," Dain answered.[PARAGRAPH:1]"And are the Elohim supposed to be the birds? Your supernatural ally against the Infernal?"[PARAGRAPH:1]"Yes."[PARAGRAPH:1]She nodded, then thanked Dain for coming. They were to meet again in the morning to discuss treaties and she knew Dain would request that they declare war on the Infernal.[PARAGRAPH:1]As Dain walked away Ethne called after him, "What happened to the step-sisters at the end of the Patrian story?"[PARAGRAPH:1]Dain smiled grimly, "The birds pecked out their eyes."

    TXT_KEY_CONCEPT_WEAPON_UPGRADES_PEDIA

    [H1]Weapon Upgrades[\H1][PARAGRAPH:2]Some units can have their strength upgraded by certain weapon types. Units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_BRONZE_WEAPONS]Bronze weapons[\LINK] get +1 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_COPPER]copper[\LINK]. Units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_IRON_WEAPONS]Iron weapons[\LINK] get +2 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_IRON]iron[\LINK] and units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_MITHRIL_WEAPONS]Mithril weapons[\LINK] get +4 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_MITHRIL]mithril[\LINK]. Multiple weapon types aren't cumulative (a unit can't have both iron and mithril weapons) and units have to enter one of your cities to upgrade their weapons.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Note that getting access to copper requires the [LINK=TECH_BRONZE_WORKING]Bronze Working[\LINK] tech (even though it is revealed with Mining). Getting access to Iron requires the [LINK=TECH_IRON_WORKING]Iron Working[\LINK] tech (though it is revealed with Smelting) and getting access to Mithril requires the [LINK=TECH_MITHRIL_WORKING]Mithril Working[\LINK] tech.

    TXT_KEY_DAWN_OF_MAN_SHEAIM

    [NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Strategy: Masters of summoning, the Sheaim's Eater of Dreams are a powerful unit made even more powerful by allowing their summoned units to last for three turns instead of the normal one. They also have access to the Pyre Zombie units, which explode when killed and do damage to the one killing them. Their most important difference from other civs concerns their method for acquiring units. Later melee units are not buildable, but by building a planar gate building, cities will acquire units freely over time, more so as the Armageddon Counter rises. This allows the Sheaim to focus research on the magic line without neglecting other units types.

    TXT_KEY_EVENT_WB_FALL_OF_CUANTINE_FLEE

    Decius returns home and spends a night feasting and telling tales with the men of his Father's holdings. Rosier's parting words haunt him, however, and he retires early. From under his bed comes an inky black snake, hissing and swaying as it crawls up him. Decius tries to grab it but cannot move, and the snake speaks to him. "Noble one... you serve loyally and unquestioningly. How is your service repaid? Such a hard life. Surely such skill and valor as yours should be better rewarded. You deserve power and wealth beyond your station. Is honor such a dear currency to you?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Finally Decius finds his voice. "Away!" He reaches for the snake, but it slithers away, under his bed. Decius reaches for it, finally grasping the thing and strangling it with his bare hands until...[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Until he awakes to his father's voice. "Are you alright my son... Decius, by god, what are you doing?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Decius is on his knees with his hands wrapped around an octopus-headed idol which glows faintly in the dark.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I had a nightmare. A demon was tempting me, and..."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"And it looks to me like you gave in. I would have never thought you capable of this blasphemy. But nor would I have suspected Rosier, either. We shall leave this for the Confessors to determine."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I have seen how the Order judges, and would ask you to trust your own judgment. Trust your own son!"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I must rather trust my own eyes, Decius."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Then I guess I must trust my feet, Lord Commander." Decius swung, smacking his father with the idol. His father staggered back, and Decius rushed past, heading for the stables before alarm could be given.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He was a fugitive, which is almost as bad as a confession. He would have no succor within the Empire. And the Empire's reach was well beyond its borders-forts lie north, east, and south. And to the west lie the Lanun. He almost stopped. He believed in law, in order, he had sworn his life to the unending crusade against evil. A hundred times he had risked that life on the field of battle. But he would not die the heretic's death, reviled and anathematized.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The diviners would not look at his valorous history, nor could they what had actually happened. They would look into his heart, and read any doubt as disloyalty.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]He spurred his horse toward the west.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]When he arrived in Innsmouth there was a ship heading across the great sea, carrying spices, furs, and slaves. He was recognized as their enemy-but not, to his luck, as their commander. His horse, and the bit of gold he had in her saddlebag bought him one way passage, no questions asked. Or just one question.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"We go to the desert of Myrh, Bannorman. We can let you off with the Calabim, or you can hire a guide to take you to a Malakim city. What is your choice?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE](The civilization you choose will determine what civilization you play as in future scenarios)

    TXT_KEY_EVENT_WB_GIFT_OF_KYLORIN_MESHABBER

    If you wish to pass this gate of mine[NEWLINE]You must correctly solve my rhyme[NEWLINE]The Harpy, winged, watches coldly.[NEWLINE]A Satyr, piping, prances boldly.[NEWLINE]A Naga guarding, ever more.[NEWLINE]A Werewolf carved as from the floor.[NEWLINE]The Golem will round out the five.[NEWLINE]Choose the right one to stay alive![NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Every monster likes to eat,[NEWLINE]Which finds Humans a tasty treat?[NEWLINE]Each one dwells in just one place,[NEWLINE]A single drink is for each race,[NEWLINE]All have colors, one apiece,[NEWLINE]The key is which on Humans feasts...[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]It's tough to know, without a clue,[NEWLINE]I will give, more than a few,[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]One half a goat, lives in a tree,[NEWLINE]The serpentine, on Half-Elves feeds,[NEWLINE]The hairy one fills up on grog,[NEWLINE]Left of the dungeon are cliffs of fog,[NEWLINE]Cliff dwellers all drink ale, they say,[NEWLINE]He who eats Gnomes is fond of gray,[NEWLINE]Deep in the cave, one favors red,[NEWLINE]In center is the wino's bed,[NEWLINE]The feathered femme lives in the first,[NEWLINE]The friend of brown, for beer will thirst,[NEWLINE]The beast who prefers all things blacker,[NEWLINE]Resides next to the Dwarven snacker,[NEWLINE]Tis beside the one in red,[NEWLINE]Resides an Elven eater's stead,[NEWLINE]Next to the pit, the flyer dwells,[NEWLINE]The construct thinks that green is swell,[NEWLINE]A neighbor of the black of heart,[NEWLINE]Feels drinking water is an art.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]No more clues to help your plight,[NEWLINE]The answer given when it's right.[NEWLINE]Though when it's known, they'll be no doubt.[NEWLINE]So please don't plead, don't beg, don't pout.[NEWLINE]Divine the answer, though it's cruel,[NEWLINE]Who eats Humans as a rule?

    TXT_KEY_IMPROVEMENT_POOL_OF_TEARS_PEDIA

    Chapter 1: Fall of Mammon Cycle[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Mammon sat in the shadow of a great mountain. He liked creation, the smells of fresh earth and growing things, the mix of warm sunlight and cool breezes. But a world is more than the material and his mind was exploring one of his own creations, mathematics.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The One had removed the power of creation from them, but the gods were still powerful. Though the laws of Erebus were set, they could easily bend them. But in time they would return to their natural state. Mammon wished he could remake some of the laws he had applied, and even now played with changing them and watched the impact of his changes on the clouds that drifted overhead. The way the clouds split, funneled, dispersed and moved were minutely changed by the slightest of his adjustments.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]As the god of foresight Mammon watched the world play out due to his tiny changes. The clouds shadow that uncovered a mother mouse a second sooner. The hawk that spotted the now uncovered mouse. The mouse that would die in the hawks claws. The mouse babies that would starve without their mother. The seeds that would not be eaten by the mice. The plants that would now grow from those seeds.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The clouds rolled towards the west, they were bone white and hung low in the sky. All except a single cloud that traveled east, seemingly ignoring all natural laws. Mammon considered the futures changed by the defiant cloud. Weather patterns changed, storms that would and wouldn't occur now. The changed world that existed because of that cloud.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Would you be so quick to change everything if you knew the implications of your actions?" Mammon asked the sky.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Tali, god of the air, smiled down at the serious god, "I suspect that everything turns out the same no matter what we do."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Mammon frowned, "That is not true."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]But secretly Mammon wondered if Tali was right.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]A distant ceremony beckoned to both the gods. All the gods gathered around a shallow pool and with a thought Mammon and Tali joined them.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Within the pool a woman floated, perfect of form with smooth, pale skin and long, black hair. She was to be Gabella, formed by Aeron into the first woman and she was receiving a blessing from each of the gods.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Bhall, goddess of fire, floated in the pool with Gabella and fire danced across the pools surface and shimmered in its depths. Bhall held the sleeping Gabella and whispered into her ear, "I give you the capacity for passion and love, that you can give these gifts to others and can receive them to yourself."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]At that she kissed Gabella gently on the forehead. Gabella continued to float as Bhall let go and stepped out of the pool. Ceridwen came next, floating above the pool she allowed the long tendrils of her gown to reach down and lift Gabella gently to her.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Oghma was watching Mammon closely. The two were as close as their precepts, Oghma was knowledge of everything that was and Mammon was the god of knowledge of everything that will be. The thin line of the present separated their dominions and because of that the gods had a close affinity for each other.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Deciding that something had changed Oghma whispered to Mammon, "You seem bothered."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Nemed spoke to all the gathered gods before Mammon could respond.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I mean to give her eternal life. That mankind can share our immortality and live without death."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The gods considered, all life in creation was meant to be temporary. They were not making gods, but a world with seasons and cycles. Arawn was the first to respond.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"They have not known heaven, but they will yearn for it. Are you sure that our creation is so perfect that it should be unending?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]At that the gods all began speaking at once. Only Agares, who watched without comment, and Mammon stayed out of the conversation. Mammon already knew the outcome. It was the same as any major decision they had to make, they would ask him. It was Nemed who asked.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Mammon, what do you foresee for Gabella and her children? Should she live eternal, or live only for a time within creation?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]For the first time Mammon was afraid to answer. Something was wrong, and for one who always knew the future being blind to it terrified him. Mammon could see the creation of Gabella, could see her rebellion and refusal to submit to the plan of the gods. Beyond that he saw the rebellion of Agares, and his attempt to challenge the One. He saw the One standing in creation, judging the world. But he couldn't see anything beyond that moment. If there was any future beyond that he was blind to it. Mammon suspected that the One unmade them and creation. He suspected that he was seeing his own death.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]In regards to Gabella's immortality, for the time that Mammon could see there was no difference. With or without eternal life Gabella would refuse to become the mother of humanity. With either option she would live until Mammon's vision failed him. She would live as long as Mammon would.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Rather than admit that his vision was gone, rather than tell the gods that Agares would betray them, that they would all die, Mammon pretended to know and for the first time gave advice without knowing if it was correct.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Allow them to be immortal, they should not fear death." Mammon was beginning to know that fear to well himself.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Arawn seemed bothered by the response but said nothing. Nemed entered the pool, embraced Gabella and whispered into her ear. From that moment she was as immortal as a single god could make her.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Mammon was next. He walked across the surface of the pool and sat down at Gabella's side.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Wake child." He said softly.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Gabella sat up and her eyes fluttered open. She was still in the daze of birth and likely wouldn't see or remember him, but he wanted to see her eyes. Aeron had fashioned her body perfectly, she was beautiful, strong and unique in feature.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I give you..." Mammon leaned close, so that no one could overhear, "I give you nothing, so that you might always wonder and won't know the pleasures and the pains of the future."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Gabella lay back down in the pool and returned to her sleep. Agares was the last to give his blessing and he stepped into the pool. At his touch the water changed to a blend of black and gold, a beautiful labyrinth or bright gold veins appearing and disappearing into emptiness. The gold strands caressed Gabella's body and again her eyes fluttered open to meet Agares's gaze.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I give you hope, a belief in what can be, that you will not know despair."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Oghma was watching Mammon closely, he would be the only one who knew that Mammon didn't give a gift to Gabella. Similarly Mammon watched Agares, searching unsuccessfully for some hint of his future betrayal.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][LINK=SPELL_ESCAPE]Chapter 2: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK][NEWLINE][LINK=IMPROVEMENT_SEVEN_PINES]Chapter 3: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK][NEWLINE][LINK=BUILDING_ALTAR_OF_THE_LUONNOTAR]Chapter 4: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK]

    TXT_KEY_IMPROVEMENT_SEVEN_PINES_PEDIA

    [LINK=IMPROVEMENT_POOL_OF_TEARS]Chapter 1: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK][NEWLINE][LINK=SPELL_ESCAPE]Chapter 2: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK][NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Chapter 3: Fall of Mammon Cycle[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]The gods argued again and eventually agreed to create another wife for Nemed. This time the gifts were to be less than those given to Gabella, so she wouldn't be pulled in different directions by each of their aspects. And she would be mortal in form so that whatever she chose, she would not have a permanent impact on creation. Her soul was to remain immortal, and Arawn agreed to tend to her soul, and those of the mortal generations that would follow her.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]They named her Anesidora and she was as gentle as Gabella was fierce. Nemed built a farm on the edge of a great river for them to share. It was bordered by seven great pine trees and the gods frequently visited the farm. It was a favorite place for squirrels to play and they could often be seen chasing each other along the buildings and trees, or chattering noisily at anyone who passed, god or man.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]One day Agares and Mammon stood by the river's edge and the squirrels chattered at them. One even came to Agares's foot, looking up at the powerful god and squeaking as if laying out all the worlds problems for him. Agares simply smiled at the tiny creature and offered him a small nut, which the squirrel happily accepted before hopping away.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"The One will return to creation soon." Mammon commented.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Agares nodded.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"When he does, you will rebel against him."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Agares stayed silent to this. The two gods sat and watched the squirrels battle, the nut Agares had given one had caused them to start quarreling with each other over it.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Finally Agares asked, "How does it end?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I don't know" Mammon answered, "I see you rebel, I see him considering creation and then nothing. I can't see a future for anyone beyond that moment. I believe he kills us all and unmakes creation."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Agares nodded, then asked "What do you think we should have done with Gabella?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"You mean, what should the One do with you?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Agares simply responded, "Yes."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"I don't know. I love creation, I don't want to see it lost. But questions of morality are better suited for the dominions of other gods." Then after a pause Mammon added, "I'm afraid of dying. Were we ever not alive?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Agares shrugged. "I will speak to those that defended Gabella. If they value life and freedom over obedience then they may be allies."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Before Agares left Mammon stopped him, "Did you curse Gabella? Were you the reason she wouldn't submit?"[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"No" he answered, "I thought it was you. But maybe Aeron didn't want another taking his perfect creation. Or maybe it was Ceridwen, who is always incomprehensible."[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]"Maybe" Mammon echoed, but Agares was already gone. Alone, Mammon sat and watched the squirrels continue to fight over the nut.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE][LINK=BUILDING_ALTAR_OF_THE_LUONNOTAR]Chapter 4: Fall of Mammon Cycle[\LINK]

    TXT_KEY_LEADER_TEBRYN_PEDIA

    [TAB]The Age of Ice was a paradise compared to what I endured. As men huddled in frozen caves, and the Bannor raced across the plains of ash in Agares hell I was held underneath the fractured surface of Camulos's hell.[PARAGRAPH:1]Camulos is the god of war, and his hell is the proving ground for new demons. Here they learn the arts of chaotic battle in the unending wars that rage across its surface. The souls, once moral, become desensitized to feeling and inflicting pain. Then they begin to delight in it, cruelly destroying anyone weaker than them across the volcanic terrain.[PARAGRAPH:1]Beneath the wars, in pits regularly opened or consumed by the violent earthquakes that shake the world, are the vast prisons where the victims of war are kept. I had suffered through the mire of Mulcarn, passed the trials of Mammon's great city but I was a quick victim to violence of this realm.[PARAGRAPH:1]Torturers usually want something from their victims, secrets, cooperation or conversion. But here they subjected us to anguish only to enjoy our suffering. And in a world without the escape of death, there was no hope of an end to the torment. You bleed and scream for centuries.[PARAGRAPH:1]The eruptions occasionally open new tunnels in the prisons, collapsing walls allow the imprisoned to flee to the world's surface and escape their torment for a time.[PARAGRAPH:1]After one of these I fled into wastes, where the sand cut through exposed flesh like small shards of glass. I huddled beneath the hide of a pit beast and gripped one of the back spikes from the beast as a crude weapon. My magic failed me in hell. I traced a rune in the sand, a fire sign with broken bindings and willed it alive. A faint flame flickered within it. When I was alive I could have summoned torrents of fire out of the rune, I could have assaulted a city with it. Now it only flickered weakly.[PARAGRAPH:1]Howls interrupted my concentration. Demons avoided battles in the wastes, but hunters lead by hellhounds would come through looking for those, like myself, that sought refuge here. I brushed away the rune and started deeper into the wastes.[PARAGRAPH:1]By they were faster than I was and the hound could smell me. They didn't follow scent like moral dogs, they could smell fear and there was no escaping them. As I scrambled across another ridge a darkened figure rushed at me, spear in hand. He was emaciated, weak, and I easily knocked the spear aside.[PARAGRAPH:1]I pulled the man to the ground, he was trembling, and whispered into his ear.[PARAGRAPH:1]"You will be okay" I lied, "I won't hurt you, but we have to kill the hound that is coming for us."[PARAGRAPH:1]He didn't speak, but his eyes stared into my face, trying to find some compassion. It was a rare commodity in this world.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Hide under the ridge.” I ordered, pushing him into position. "When the hound comes be ready with your spear and we will attack it together."[PARAGRAPH:1]He hid under the ridge and I slipped away. A few minutes later the hound stopped howling, it was close.[PARAGRAPH:1]The hound was drawn to the figures fear as I had suspected. I watched as it walked up to the top of the ridge and stopped to sniff and listen. Even I could sense the man's fear, I knew it was like a beacon to the hound. In one smooth movement the hound leapt off the ridge and in front of the man, he called for my help as he braced his spear.[PARAGRAPH:1]I ignored him as the hound attacked, tearing quickly into the man. I wasn't interested in the hound or the man. I waited until I saw him. A black figure wreathed in violet flames, the hunter following after the hound. As he passed I leapt out, shoving the spike into the hunters neck.[PARAGRAPH:1]The sound he made was a mix of pleasure and pain, the scream of a sadist in the ecstasy of mutilation. He was stronger than I suspected, and the spike jutting from his neck didn't slow him at all. He lifted one arm and tossed me aside. I rolled and came to my feet to see him ready for his next attack. The hound dragged the body of the man back towards us, and the deep red eyes of the rest of the hellhound pack came out of the wastes. There was at least a dozen of them. The hunter didn't bother removing the spike from his neck.[PARAGRAPH:1]A crow passed over us. Seeing it in hell was as unusual as seeing a demon flying by in Erebus. But the effect on the hunter and his hounds was immediate. They fled in all directions, even leaving the prize of the wizened man behind.[PARAGRAPH:1]The crow landed. It was large for a crow but not unnaturally so. It clawed at the ground and hopped about ignoring me. I had lost the spike and without any sort of weapon I knew I was helpless. Remembering the man's spear I started to slip by, to avoid the crow and get to base of the ridge where the hellhound and the man fought.[PARAGRAPH:1]Then I noticed what the crow had scratched. It was a fire rune with broken bindings. The crow looked at me for the first time.[PARAGRAPH:1]It was exactly like the rune I had made, perfectly formed. I walked closer and the crow crooked its head watching me. I took a breath and reached out to the rune and I immediately felt the power well up inside of me. Balefire flooded out of the rune in great wild gouts. It flowed out between the hills of the wastes, down along the ridge and all around me. At the rune itself it reached up like a fountain of yellow fire, a bright finger reaching into the sky.[PARAGRAPH:1]This was the power I once had. Let the hunters come, let them bring their packs of hellhounds, the torturers and the war machines of hell. I will purge this horrific world.[PARAGRAPH:1]The crow was gone. In its place, floating weightless just above the ground was a beautiful woman wearing purple robes. The robes floated about her in a maze of folds that hid her and offered tantalizing glimpses of her perfect pale skin. Half of an obsidian mask covered the left side of her face. On the right her lips were full and red, her eyes matched the deep purple of her robes.[PARAGRAPH:1]"To long have you dwelled in these lands."[PARAGRAPH:1]The fire collapsed back into the rune. I felt the power slip from me and I gasped and fell to my knees in an effort to keep hold of it. But it was pulled from me and I was weak again. I screamed, it was as cruel as anything I had suffered here.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Give it back." I threatened, realizing that I didn't have a weapon.[PARAGRAPH:1]Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Her body twisted and she expanded, or the world shrank, until she filled the sky and her robes surrounded me.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I am Ceridwen" she said and the ground rumbled with her voice, "and I can drop you into worlds far worse than this one. If you wish to be free you will worship me, for I am the only one who can break your chains."[PARAGRAPH:1]And I fell to the ground and worshipped her.[NEWLINE][PARAGRAPH:1]I had forgotten how beautiful creation was, or I had paid little attention. The island I walked across was ripe and lush. There were no land animals on it, just brightly colored birds that cried and fluttered away in annoyance as I walked by.[PARAGRAPH:1]A vast well stood at the center of the island. Far enough across that a galleon could have been dropped down it and it was deeper than the world. The rocks around it appeared to be old granite, but I knew that rock was the foundation of creation and was much stronger than simple granite. There were no animals here.[PARAGRAPH:1]I began walking around the well. Every few feet I stopped to trace a rune on the rock. Though it seemed a minor effect, and I was more powerful than I had ever been in life, it took all of my willpower to mar the rock. Between runes I rested and went over Ceridwen's demands, making sure each step was done exactly as she described.[PARAGRAPH:1]By the time I had walked the entire way around it was well into the night. I stood on the last rock ready to trace the final rune. But before that I drew silver letters on a black cloth, cast and then placed the cloth over my eyes. Through it I saw the spirit world. Even now spirits of the dead walked across the island and threw themselves into the well, passing from this world to the world beyond.[PARAGRAPH:1]Then I completed the final rune. In a screeching that brought back painful memories of Camulos's hell the rock began to move together. The well began to close.[PARAGRAPH:1]Confused spirits rushed toward the well, seeing their afterlife being stolen from them and from within the well I heard the sound of feathers. A cold wind came up out of the well and I saw a figure flying up at me from the wells depths. A woman with a cloth over her eyes much as mine, and ragged bands woven around her arms and into a tattered dress. She had dark wings and pale ivory skin. She was like moonlight filtered through a canopy of branches.[PARAGRAPH:1]But she was not fast enough. I reached out and pulled all of the surrounding spirits towards me, funneling them all into the final rune that was being sketched over the closing rocks surface. A barrier held fast, a great mirror that would send those who tried to pass through it back, a transformation that would bind the spirits that passed through it into unholy forms.[PARAGRAPH:1]The spirits powered the rune, they were trapped within it. They howled and fought the rune but they could not escape.[PARAGRAPH:1]To test the spell I walked to a nearby apple tree, since the birds didn't come this close to the well its fruit was untouched. But it was early in the year and it only had tiny green apples hanging from its branches.[PARAGRAPH:1]I traced a rune of withering on its trunk and the tree immediately shriveled and died. The tiny apples fell from the branches as the branches thinned and weakened. For a moment nothing happened, and then the tree filled out again. Not to its original height, as it remained dark and warped by the spell, but it was not completely dead. On its branches new small fruit blossomed, but this time they were a deep brownish red and they beat slowly.[PARAGRAPH:1]My mission had begun. My deal with Ceridwen, to bring Armageddon to creation starts here. If I fail I will return to the eternal prison of hell, and even if it means destroying the world I will never again suffer hells torments.

  2. #2
    FFH2 Übersetzungsteam Avatar von Kontrollator
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    TXT_KEY_LEADER_OS-GABELLA_PEDIA

    [TAB]Screams echoed through Galveholm. There was no way to predict their frequency, often days or weeks would pass between hearing them. But when they did occur it was impossible to deny the tortured anguish in them. Even the most hardened would whisper a quiet prayer for the victim, and many in the city were reduced to tears.[PARAGRAPH:2]Gaulos had a way with women, he prided himself on it. There were few things he couldn't get through guile or smile. Perhaps they wouldn't agree to his most intimate desires, but they would join him alone in a dark cellar, and that was all the cooperation he required.[PARAGRAPH:1]He found young girls the most vulnerable. In naively agreeing to his meetings, being unable to resist his forced advances once alone, and the most satisfying to his desires. Even so young they were still women and susceptible to his charms.[PARAGRAPH:1]But he was too eager, a village ripe with beautiful young girls nearly stopped his heart when his caravan rolled into it. They chased each other outside a small temple and cared for delicate dolls. After three went missing the village was on the verge of hysteria, the caravan was torn apart and he was accused of the murders. They had no evidence, but that isn't required in such situations so Gaulos headed somewhere they wouldn't follow, into the Sheaim lands.[PARAGRAPH:1]Now he stood in a pack of lowest dregs of humanity outside of the Sheaim gates. Immigrants had to display some skill before they were allowed into the city, and since the gatekeeper was male, Gaulos didn't have anything to show. They had already begun to pull some aside to tend to the pyre's, and no one returned from that.[PARAGRAPH:1]On his third day at the gate a stir rose from inside the city. The guards, to that point cruel and inattentive, went suddenly alert and the gatekeeper ordered everyone away from the gate. Bestial men that had been pissing and shitting off the wall and onto the huddled immigrants below became paragons of duty.[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos and the mass of lesser men waited quietly. Nothing scared the Sheaim, and many began to pull back further from the gate. Then they saw the source of the fear coming, a black carriage pulled by horses with burning hooves and wild, bestial eyes. As they got closer they could see that the horses had sharp wolf like teeth, those accustomed to tearing flesh, and they looked at the assembled men like beasts viewing their next meal.[PARAGRAPH:1]A mobius witch drove the carriage. Her form twisted and bent back in on itself as if she was a leather skin stretched tight over a rough stone, as if she wasn't able to fully enter this world. But inside the carriage was a more amazing site. Os-Gabella, Queen of Storms, sat and showed little interest in the outside. Despite the carriages solid construction the windows were open and their were no signs of any precautions taken to protect its passenger.[PARAGRAPH:1]The carriage stopped at the gate where Os-Gabella passed a few quiet questions to the gatekeeper before preparing to head into the city. Knowing that it may be his last chance to use his only gift Gaulos stepped up onto the road behind the carriage.[PARAGRAPH:1]"My Queen, please allow me entrance to your magnificent city."[PARAGRAPH:1]She eyed him dispassionately. The gatekeeper looked horrified and shocked by Gaulos's behavior. If Os-Gabella's neck would have stretched out and allowed her to bite off Gaulos's head no one at the gate would have been surprised. But since he was now committed Gaulos continued on.[PARAGRAPH:1]"The legend of your beauty brought me to these lands, across barren wastes and dangerous roads. But now I see that those who spoke of you were lying, for you are twice as beautiful as they described."[PARAGRAPH:1]Again there was nothing but stunned silence. Then finally Os-Gabella replied, "Get in."[PARAGRAPH:1]Stunned, no one knew what to do. Os-Gabella kicked open the carriage door and that jolted the gatekeeper into action. He held the door while Gaulos climbed in.[PARAGRAPH:1]The carriage rolled through Galveholm while nobles and peasants scrambled out of the way. They looked at Os-Gabella and Gaulos with fear and wonder. This was a life Gaulos could get used to.[PARAGRAPH:1]He took his eyes off the street and saw she was regarding him. He met her gaze, dipping his head enough to let his boyish bangs obscure the eyes women always complimented him for. He looked back up and smiled, but her expression didn't change.[PARAGRAPH:1]Feeling a bit uncomfortable Gaulos asked, "Where are we going?"[PARAGRAPH:1]"To meet your father."[PARAGRAPH:1]The tattered edges of the mobius witches robes reached through the window of the carriage and brushed up against Gaulos's neck. The touch made him shiver even in the oppressive heat of the day. Gaulos's father was a dockworker in the Lanun city of Bolans, he hadn't talked to him in years, and he couldn't imagine a less likely destination for the carriage.[PARAGRAPH:1]The Sheaim palace was ahead and the gates were raised as the carriage approached. They stopped in a courtyard where a band of Revelers argued. Os-Gabella stepped out of the carriage without pretense. Gaulos followed, more from fear of being left alone with the odd monsters then from desire to stay with her. As they entered the palace he could hear slaves being dragged over and fed to the dark horses.[PARAGRAPH:1]Inside a minotaur opened a great vault door. Behind the door stairs led deep beneath the palace. Gaulos briefly considered not going but a glance from the minotaur sent him scrambling down the stairs behind Os-Gabella.[PARAGRAPH:1]The palace construction gave way to natural caverns. The stairs were replaced by a rough stone floor that had worn spots where Os-Gabella stepped without thinking. Jewels in her armor radiated a pale light and provided the only illumination in the passage. Gaulos struggled to stay within the radius of her light.[PARAGRAPH:1]The passage ended at a small chamber with a stone arch in the center. Os-Gabella stepped up to the arch and traced runes in the air before it. Then she stepped into the arch and the chamber went dark.[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos scrambled forward. He had a vague memory of those girls he seduced into joining him in dark cellars, at that point where his eyesight was better in the dark than theirs and he could sit back and watch them fumble in the darkness. He imagined that all the girls he hurt and killed were watching him, enjoying those last few moments before they killed him. The memory made him panic and he slammed against the stone arch and fell through the archway.[PARAGRAPH:1]Sudden brightness blinded him. Torches hung on the walls and in the center of the room a man hung over a pit bound by bright silver chains. The man was gaunt and looked strained beyond exhaustion, but he was uninjured. Os-Gabella walked over to the man, withdrew a crystal from her armor and held it over the pit.[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos picked himself up and walked over behind her. The chained man looked up in surprise and yelled.[PARAGRAPH:1]"Run child, run!"[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos froze, the man's words had power but when Gaulos looked back at the arch there was only darkness and the imagined ghosts of his victims beyond it. There was no other place to run. Instead Gaulos spoke to Os-Gabella.[PARAGRAPH:1]"That's not my father."[PARAGRAPH:1]Os-Gabella smirked, "Of course it is, the first father. Nemed, my husband." she said the last part with clear disdain. "We are here to find a way to kill him."[PARAGRAPH:1]With that black flames burst up out of the pit.[PARAGRAPH:1]"These fires are said to be able to burn the ethereal, they are from the deepest hell. I wonder what effect it will have on immortal flesh."[PARAGRAPH:1]Os-Gabella raised her hand and Nemed was dropped into the pit. His screams echoed through the chamber and up into Galveholm above. Gaulos turned to run, his fear of ghosts replaced by the torment in front of him. But Os-Gabella was faster. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the pit.[PARAGRAPH:1]"I need to know the effect on mortal flesh as well."[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos reached within the folds of his shirt, for the knife he always kept there. With one smooth movement he thrust it up into Os-Gabella's throat.[PARAGRAPH:1]Os-Gabella laughed, "If you could kill me we wouldn't need these damn tests!"[PARAGRAPH:1]Gaulos withdrew the knife to stab again only to notice that the wound healed as soon as the knife was removed. Then Os-Gabella shoved him down into the pit with the screaming Nemed. The flames quickly rushed up his legs and onto his chest and head. His screams joined Nemed's.[PARAGRAPH:2]Gaulos awoke in a grey wasteland. His skin was burnt and blistered, his boyish hair was burnt off. Every movement was torture. He knew he was dead. It was an uncomfortable afterlife but bearable. Until Gaulos saw the spirits of the girls he killed coming for him.

    Wird fortgsetzt...

    Übersetzungen bitte an mich senden per pn oder auch per mail falls bei pn die max Anzahl der Zeichen nicht ausreicht
    Geändert von Kontrollator (03. April 2010 um 14:44 Uhr)

  3. #3
    Schatten Avatar von Darklor
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    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_ALTAR_OF_THE_LUONNOTAR_STRATEGY

    The first 6 pieces of the Altar can only be created by sacrificing a Great Prophet, and even then only by Good or Neutral civilizations. The last piece has to be built.
    Die ersten 6 Teile des Altars können nur durch das Opfern eines Großen Propheten errichtet werden und das auch nur wenn die Zivilisation gut oder neutral ist. Der letzte Teil muss gebaut werden.

    TXT_KEY_BUILDING_PAGAN_TEMPLE_STRATEGY

    Use Pagan Temples to increase culture in your cities. Though they often host bizarre religions and cults they will address the spiritual needs of your people and increase the chances of receiving a Great Prophet.
    Nutze [Pagan Tempel] um die Kultur in deinen Städten zu steigern. Obwohl sie oft bizarre Religionen und Kulte beherbergen, kommen sie den spirituellen Bedürfnissen deiner Bürger entgegen und steigern die Chance einen Großen Propheten zu erhalten.

    TXT_KEY_CONCEPT_WEAPON_UPGRADES_PEDIA

    [H1]Weapon Upgrades[\H1][PARAGRAPH:2]Some units can have their strength upgraded by certain weapon types. Units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_BRONZE_WEAPONS]Bronze weapons[\LINK] get +1 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_COPPER]copper[\LINK]. Units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_IRON_WEAPONS]Iron weapons[\LINK] get +2 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_IRON]iron[\LINK] and units capable of using [LINK=PROMOTION_MITHRIL_WEAPONS]Mithril weapons[\LINK] get +4 strength if you have access to [LINK=BONUS_MITHRIL]mithril[\LINK]. Multiple weapon types aren't cumulative (a unit can't have both iron and mithril weapons) and units have to enter one of your cities to upgrade their weapons.[NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Note that getting access to copper requires the [LINK=TECH_BRONZE_WORKING]Bronze Working[\LINK] tech (even though it is revealed with Mining). Getting access to Iron requires the [LINK=TECH_IRON_WORKING]Iron Working[\LINK] tech (though it is revealed with Smelting) and getting access to Mithril requires the [LINK=TECH_MITHRIL_WORKING]Mithril Working[\LINK] tech.
    TXT_KEY_CONCEPT_WEAPON_UPGRADES_PEDIA

    [H1]Waffen Verbesserungen[\H1][PARAGRAPH:2]Manche Einheiten können ihre Stärke durch bestimmte Waffentypen steigern. Einheiten die fähig sind [LINK=PROMOTION_BRONZE_WEAPONS]Bronze Waffen[\LINK] zu benutzen, bekommen +1 zu ihrer Stärke, wenn sie Zugang zu [LINK=BONUS_COPPER]Kupfer[\LINK] haben. Einheiten die fähig sind [LINK=PROMOTION_IRON_WEAPONS]Eisen Waffen[\LINK] zu benutzen, bekommen +2 zu ihrer Stärke, wenn sie Zugang zu [LINK=BONUS_IRON]Eisen[\LINK] haben und Einheiten die fähig sind [LINK=PROMOTION_MITHRIL_WEAPONS]Mithril Waffen[\LINK] zu benutzen, bekommen +4 zu ihrer Stärke, wenn sie Zugang zu [LINK=BONUS_MITHRIL]Mithril[\LINK] haben. Verschiedene Waffenarten sind nicht kumulativ (eine Einheit kann nicht gleichzeitig Eisen und Mithril Waffen benutzen) und Einheiten müssen eine Stadt betreten, um ihre Waffen aufrüsten zu lassen. [NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Beachte, dass der Zugang zu Kupfer die Technologie [LINK=TECH_BRONZE_WORKING]Bronze Verarbeitung[\LINK] voraussetzt (selbst wenn es schon mit Bergbau angezeigt wird). Der Zugang zu Eisen benötigt die Technologie [LINK=TECH_IRON_WORKING]Eisen Verarbeitung[\LINK] (obwohl es schon mit Schmelzen angezeigt wird) und der Zugang zu Mithril benötigt die Technologie [LINK=TECH_MITHRIL_WORKING]Mithril Verarbeitung[\LINK].
    Out of the dark into the dark.

  4. #4
    Schatten Avatar von Darklor
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    Weils so schön war gleich noch n kurzes.

    TXT_KEY_DAWN_OF_MAN_SHEAIM

    [NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Strategy: Masters of summoning, the Sheaim's Eater of Dreams are a powerful unit made even more powerful by allowing their summoned units to last for three turns instead of the normal one. They also have access to the Pyre Zombie units, which explode when killed and do damage to the one killing them. Their most important difference from other civs concerns their method for acquiring units. Later melee units are not buildable, but by building a planar gate building, cities will acquire units freely over time, more so as the Armageddon Counter rises. This allows the Sheaim to focus research on the magic line without neglecting other units types.
    TXT_KEY_DAWN_OF_MAN_SHEAIM

    [NEWLINE][NEWLINE]Strategie: Meister der Beschwörung, sind Sheaims [Verschlinger der Träume] mächtige Einheiten, die allein dadurch noch mächtiger werden, dass ihren beschworenen Kreaturen gestattet ist, statt der normalerweise nur einen Runde, drei Runden zu existieren. Außerdem haben sie Zugang zu den Pyrozombies, welche explodieren, wenn sie getötet werden und beschädigen die sie tötende Einheit. Ihr größter Unterschied von anderen Zivilisationen betrifft ihre Methode an Einheiten zu kommen. Spätere Nahkampfeinheiten sind nicht produzierbar, aber durch das bauen von [Planar Toren] erhalten Städte über Zeit freie Einheiten, je mehr desto höher der Armageddon Zähler steigt. Dies erlaubt den Sheaim sich auf die Erforschung der Magielinie zu konzentrieren, ohne die anderen Einheitentypen zu vernachlässigen.
    Out of the dark into the dark.

  5. #5
    Schatten Avatar von Darklor
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    Ist der Hintergrund der Pyro-Zombies schon übersetzt?


    Darklor
    Out of the dark into the dark.

  6. #6
    FFH2 Übersetzungsteam Avatar von Kontrollator
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    Zitat Zitat von Darklor Beitrag anzeigen
    Ist der Hintergrund der Pyro-Zombies schon übersetzt?


    Darklor
    Du hast Glück, der ist gerade noch frei

    TXT_KEY_UNIT_PYRE_ZOMBIE_PEDIA

    Anton Konal had been burning for nearly twenty hours.[PARAGRAPH:1]It hadn't been hard to lure him to the empty silo, he followed Gosea without complaint. Even though he towered over Gosea, he hadn't tried to force himself on her. Instead he begged and issued clumsy compliments in an attempt to seduce her. Gosea was disgusted by him.[PARAGRAPH:1]The hard part was finding a place for the sacrifice. Since it was spring many of the silos along the docks were empty, and Mahon found one large enough to construct what they needed inside without anyone seeing the fire. Gosea's magic would take care of the screams.[PARAGRAPH:1]Once Anton arrived Mahon tied him to the large post in the center of the empty silo. Anton was forced atop a pile of refuse from the docks, splintered crates and barrels, planks and rope. All were coated with lamp oil.[PARAGRAPH:1]Gosea lit the flames and they stood in perfect silence as Anton writhed in pain. The fire consumed his feet then up along his legs. His skin peeled and blackened, revealing thick layers of fat beneath that burned and melted like candle wax. There was so much fat on him that hot, liquid streams of it crawled down his legs and dripped hissing into the flames.[PARAGRAPH:1]In time he stopped screaming, but Gosea's magic wouldn't let him die. His voice was gone and the flames had eaten away all the unnecessary parts of him. Anton's massive frame, blackened and burnt, was little more than bones covered with thick muscle.[PARAGRAPH:1]That was when the ritual changed. Instead of being consumed by the fire Anton's body began consuming it. Mahon poured more lamp oil on the fire until the flames were as high as Anton's waist but Anton seemed empowered it. The fire greedily licked at Anton's chest, arms and shoulders. It was absorbed and drawn into him. And over time a hot orange glow came from within his chest, and behind his eyes.[PARAGRAPH:1]There he stood, eyes fixed on Gosea in passive supplication. He was no longer alive, but unable to die. His most basic animalistic desires were tethered to his body by Gosea's spell. When the ritual was done Mahon cut him free and what had been Anton lumbered off the pyre, ready to receive Gosea's commands.[PARAGRAPH:2]Fideism - Chapter 6

    Schnell übersetzen bevor ein anderer User dir den Text wegschnappt

  7. #7
    Schatten Avatar von Darklor
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    TXT_KEY_UNIT_PYRE_ZOMBIE_PEDIA

    Anton Konal had been burning for nearly twenty hours.[PARAGRAPH:1]It hadn't been hard to lure him to the empty silo, he followed Gosea without complaint. Even though he towered over Gosea, he hadn't tried to force himself on her. Instead he begged and issued clumsy compliments in an attempt to seduce her. Gosea was disgusted by him.[PARAGRAPH:1]The hard part was finding a place for the sacrifice. Since it was spring many of the silos along the docks were empty, and Mahon found one large enough to construct what they needed inside without anyone seeing the fire. Gosea's magic would take care of the screams.[PARAGRAPH:1]Once Anton arrived Mahon tied him to the large post in the center of the empty silo. Anton was forced atop a pile of refuse from the docks, splintered crates and barrels, planks and rope. All were coated with lamp oil.[PARAGRAPH:1]Gosea lit the flames and they stood in perfect silence as Anton writhed in pain. The fire consumed his feet then up along his legs. His skin peeled and blackened, revealing thick layers of fat beneath that burned and melted like candle wax. There was so much fat on him that hot, liquid streams of it crawled down his legs and dripped hissing into the flames.[PARAGRAPH:1]In time he stopped screaming, but Gosea's magic wouldn't let him die. His voice was gone and the flames had eaten away all the unnecessary parts of him. Anton's massive frame, blackened and burnt, was little more than bones covered with thick muscle.[PARAGRAPH:1]That was when the ritual changed. Instead of being consumed by the fire Anton's body began consuming it. Mahon poured more lamp oil on the fire until the flames were as high as Anton's waist but Anton seemed empowered it. The fire greedily licked at Anton's chest, arms and shoulders. It was absorbed and drawn into him. And over time a hot orange glow came from within his chest, and behind his eyes.[PARAGRAPH:1]There he stood, eyes fixed on Gosea in passive supplication. He was no longer alive, but unable to die. His most basic animalistic desires were tethered to his body by Gosea's spell. When the ritual was done Mahon cut him free and what had been Anton lumbered off the pyre, ready to receive Gosea's commands.[PARAGRAPH:2]Fideism - Chapter 6
    Anton Konal hatte fast 20 Sunden lang gebrannt. [PARAGRAPH:1]Es war nicht schwer gewesen ihn in das leere Silo zu locken. Er folgte Gosea klaglos. Obwohl er selbst Gosea überragte hatte er sich ihr nicht aufgezwungen. Stattdessen bettelte er und äusserte ungeschickte Komplimente in einem Versuch sie zu verführen. Gosea ekelte sich vor ihm. [PARAGRAPH:1] Der schwere Teil war gewesen einen passenden Platz für das Opfer zu finden. Da es Frühling war, waren viele der Silos entlang der Docks leer und Mahon fand eins groß genug um das was sie brauchten darinnen aufzubauen, ohne das jemand das Feuer sah. Goseas Magie würde für die Schreie kümmern. [PARAGRAPH:1] Als Anton angekommen war band Mahon ihn an den langen Pfosten in der Mitte des Silos. Anton wurde auf einen Haufen Abfall aus zerbrochenen Kisten und Fässern, Planken und Seil von den Docks gezerrt. Alles war getränkz mit Öl.[PARAGRAPH:1] Gosea zündete die Flammen an und sie standen in perfektem Schweigen um Anton während dieser sich vor Schmerzen krümmte. Das Feuer verbrannte seine Füße und kroch dann seine Beine hinauf. Seine Haut gepellt und geschwärzt, offenbarte dicke Schichten von Fett darunter, dass brante und schmolz wie Kerzenwachs. Da war soviel Fett an ihm, dass heiße, flüssige Ströme davon seine Beine hinunterliefen und zischend ins Feuer tropften.[PARAGRAPH:1] Mit der Zeit hörte er zu schreien auf, aber Goseas Magie wollte ihn nicht sterben lassen. Seine Stimme war verschwunden und die Flammen hatten alle unnötigen Teile von ihm verschluckt. Antons massive Statur geschwärzt und verbrannt, bestand nun aus nicht viel mehr als Knochen bedeckt von dicken Muskeln.[PARAGRAPH:1] Das war als das Ritual sich veränderte. Anstatt vom Feuer verschlungen zu werden, begann Antons Körper das Feuer zu verschlingen. Mahon schüttete mehr Lampenöl in das Feuer bis die Flammen so hoch wie Antons Hüfte waren, aber Anton schien davon gestärkt zu werden. Das feuer leckte gierig an Antons Brust, Armen und Schultern. Es ward absorbiert und in ihn hineingezogen. Und mit der Zeit kam ein heißes oranges Glühen aus seiner Brust und hinter seinen Augen hervor. [PARAGRAPH:1] Da stand er, seine Augen auf Gosea fixiert in passiver Anflehung. Er war nicht länger lebendig, aber auch unfähig zu sterben. Seine primitivsten animalischen Gelüste waren an seinen Körper durch Goseas Zauber gebunden. Als das Ritual beendet war schnitt Mahon ihn los und was einst Anton gewesen war schleppte sich aus dem Scheiterhaufen, bereit Goseas Befehle zu empfangen.[PARAGRAPH:2]Fideismus - Kapitel 6
    Out of the dark into the dark.

  8. #8
    FFH2 Übersetzungsteam Avatar von Kontrollator
    Registriert seit
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    danke Darklor

  9. #9
    Registrierter Benutzer Avatar von Xandulan
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    06.05.07
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    [QUOTE=Darklor;3663600]Die ersten 6 Teile des Altars können nur durch das Opfern eines Großen Propheten errichtet werden und das auch nur wenn die Zivilisation gut oder neutral ist. Der letzte Teil muss gebaut werden.


    Kønnte man stufe oder bauten anstatt teile verwenden?

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