Leaks in the Noose | Refresh

Prelude | Refresh

Tias is a city never left off the map. It's so ancient that no culture or organization— currently marauding about this plane—would ever bother trying to claim a natural ownership. Truthfully, there doesn't exist even the slightest detail, in any known recording of history, as to the earliest civilizations that inhabited it. The earliest were the Minikes, who wrote with astonishment of a city that was already ancient and mysterious when they found it—and bestowed the name Tias—5200 cycles ago. Since then, it's been conquered countless times, yet no invading party has ever felt at home amongst its mix of the latest extravagant feats of architecture and the towering primeval ruins; which dwarf the rest of the city in every respect.

As opposed to a number of different cultures contributing to a city during different periods, Tias looked as if it'd been designed by several different species.

It's said that one of the earliest excavated the majority of a mountain to create a nest for Tias. Judging by the remains, the mountain is thought to have been the tallest in the region. Whoever they were, these people were also thought to be responsible for the immense tunnel system sprawling far out into the surrounding region from a single entrance at the center of the city. Those who've visited these artificial caverns and perfect hexagonal tunnels claim that they're a far greater achievement than the removal of the mountain to make room for the city; though no one can currently validate this as the underground system is restricted to all but the sacred class of Jogini.

Whoever came next, or sometime after, is thought to have been responsible for the iconic black and grey spires scattered throughout the city, each of their points so high that they're said to cut apart the clouds. The purpose for the spires remains unknown, mostly because there doesn't appear to be any visible entrance into the towers, and, additionally, because they've proven to be almost indestructible. An effort to remove one of the spires became famous after a fortune's worth of tools were destroyed against its surface with only the slightest of impressions made to show for their sacrifice.

The legendary Minikes are known to have been the culture that bedazzled the city with all manners of precious metal and minerals acquired from their conquests. They never made it their capital, though it was still the city that they brought every foreign emissary to; leaving them in awe as they tried to imagine how grand their capital must be—the Minikes actual capital, as far as anyone knows, since it was never found, was just a small hub somewhere amongst the Peaks of Aldur.

Tias' latest inhabitants, the Federation, have clearly done the least for the city. In truth, they've allowed it to fall into, what might relatively be called, ruins; at least when compared to its former glory. Clusters of hovels, slapped together with anything from mud to pieces of fallen statues, stretch out like a disease from where spectacular landmarks once stood, and every visible piece of precious material has been stripped from the buildings—although this had been happening for some time. Palatial homes and exotic temples still exist, but gems certainly lose some of their shine when they're lying in shit.

Still, there exists one structure that's retained an undeniable majesty as well as a rather incredible degree of respect and significance—even having been built in relatively recent times. Many residents would wholeheartedly say that it carries more significance for them than the entirety of the city itself. Rising like a great silver pine-cone at Tias' center, and ringed inside with precisely arranged staircases, it currently exists as the city's most important temple. Once a cycle, it becomes the focal point in the city for honoring one of the Federation's most significant religious traditions. It's a site specifically made for those in the city, and it's said to be one of the grandest and most gracious temples in all of the Federation's realm. Which lent the belief that it would give the greatest return for all the city's residents privileged to worship in its walls.