Eternal Domain of Hephsut

The Eternal Domain of Hephsut is not a kingdom in the traditional sense, but an immortal empire where governance, culture, and existence itself are shackled under the weight of death’s dominion. Forged in the aftermath of Nioba's golden age, Hephsut's empire transcends the boundaries of mortality, with an unbroken chain of command anchored by the will of an undying sovereign. It is not an empire of the living, but of the Risen—an eternal state where time stagnates, and history is rewritten with each decree etched in bone and ash.
At its core lies The Eternal Throne, the seat of Hephsut the Immortal, an archlich whose rule defies the natural order. His dominion stretches beyond mere borders, seeping into the hearts and minds of those who dwell within his grasp. In the Eternal Domain, governance is not a dynamic interplay of power but a monolithic structure where authority cascades down from a single, immutable source. Every law, tribute, and breath of defiance serves to reinforce the illusion of permanence in a realm where change is tantamount to heresy.
The empire thrives on a paradox: its cities bustle with life, yet that life exists solely to sustain the machinery of death. The living till the fields, forge weapons, and pay homage not for their own prosperity, but to feed an empire that venerates the absence of life. Merchant Princes, once vibrant architects of Nioba's prosperity, have been twisted into custodians of decay, their ambitions curbed by the promise of undeath and the constant threat of annihilation. Their power, though vast within their domains, is a fragile veneer maintained by unwavering loyalty to The Eternal Throne.
The Eternal Domain is a tapestry woven with threads of fear, indoctrination, and ritualized reverence. Its economy flourishes on the backs of the enslaved, both living and undead, while its culture is a hollow echo of Nioba's lost grandeur—a mockery of the past, reimagined to glorify Hephsut's eternal reign. To exist within this empire is to be both participant and prisoner in a society where the future has already been written, and it ends with the name of Hephsut carved into the annals of eternity.

Government

Nioba is not governed by the living, but by the cold, immortal hand of Hephsut the Eternal. Its structure is a rigid hierarchy where death is not an end but a tool of control. Power flows downward from Hephsut, whose undying will shapes every law, decree, and punishment. His rule is absolute, carved into the very fabric of Nioban society through fear, indoctrination, and the ever-present shadow of undeath. The living are mere cogs in an empire built to sustain his dominion, their lives expendable, their histories rewritten, and their futures dictated by a sovereign who will never die. Beneath him, layers of enforcers, zealots, and puppets carry out his commands, ensuring that Nioba remains a monument to his eternal reign.

The Eternal Throne

At the pinnacle of Nioba’s hierarchy stands Hephsut the Immortal, the undying architect of the empire’s control. More than a ruler, he is an embodiment of unyielding power, his will woven into the fabric of Nioban society. From the Eternal Throne, he oversees governance with absolute decrees. Transcending life and death, Hephsut exists as a god-king, his silent presence instilling fear and obedience without the need for words.

The Voice of Hephsut

The Voice of Hephsut is the highest authority beneath the Eternal Throne, serving as the living—albeit undead—embodiment of Hephsut’s will. Draped in crimson and black robes adorned with golden sigils, he wears an expressionless gilded mask, beneath which only his decayed mouth is visible—rotted flesh pulled tight over blackened gums, with the occasional scarab skittering across his decrepit teeth. When the Voice speaks, his cold, hollow words carry the full weight of law, his decrees unquestionable and final. No command is valid unless spoken through him, and no soul—prince or pauper—is beyond his reach.
Feared even by the Merchant Princes and revered by the Black Priests, the Voice’s presence signals one of two things: favor or doom. He does not mediate, negotiate, or advise; he arrives with judgment already decided, his proclamations capable of elevating a house to glory or erasing a bloodline from history. While the Black Priests shape minds and enforce ideology, it is the Voice who ensures obedience through fear, his words alone enough to shatter legacies and uphold Hephsut’s eternal dominion.

The Black Priests

Beneath the Voice of Hephsut stand the Black Priests, zealots dedicated to spreading their undead sovereign’s will. They shape Nioba’s history and culture, ensuring every story and lesson glorifies Hephsut as an eternal, divine force beyond question. Their goal is indoctrination, molding minds from childhood to see dissent as heresy.
The Black Priests run temples, schools, and re-education centers, teaching distorted histories and using dark rituals blended with psychological control to enforce loyalty. They create Risen Nubians through secret rites known only to their highest ranks. Led by the Voice of Hephsut, they act as inquisitors, propagandists, and enforcers, wielding both Magic and authority to crush dissent.
Their reach extends into every part of society. Statues of Hephsut adorn every home, daily prayers are mandatory, and deviations from doctrine are swiftly punished. History is not preserved but weaponized, shaping the present into a monument to Hephsut's eternal reign.

The Merchant Princes

The Merchant Princes govern Nioba’s provinces with ruthless precision, tasked with extracting tribute, quelling dissent, and sustaining Hephsut’s undead empire. They vie relentlessly for influence, securing favor through political intrigue and ruthless eliminations of rivals. Their authority is absolute within their domains—until Hephsut’s will dictates otherwise. Loyalty is rewarded with immense wealth, prolonged lifespans, and, for the most devout, the dark honor of undeath in eternal service to the Eternal Throne.
Once mere merchants and opportunists, they rose to power through betrayal, forsaking the Prophet-Kings to pledge allegiance to Hephsut. Their treachery was repaid with dominion over provinces, establishing dynasties of decadent splendor. Yet beneath their opulence lies constant dread—failure, insubordination, or overreaching ambition invites swift, unforgiving erasure. The appearance of the Voice of Hephsut in their courts signals an unchangeable verdict: either ascendancy or annihilation.

House Amunet

House Amunet rules over the province of Imbali, the fertile heart of Nioba’s grain production. This house, led by High Prince Jorahn Amunet, thrives on agricultural wealth, overseeing sprawling farms and the great slave markets of Imbali City. The fields bend under the weight of endless harvests, their bounty filling storehouses that supply Hephsut’s armies. Yet, for all its abundance, House Amunet’s province is a land of quiet suffering. Its people toil under an iron tithe, its slaves worked to death under the sun before being Risen to continue their labor.
Jorahn Amunet is a man of excess, reveling in the prosperity of his domain while remaining ever conscious of his fragile position. He knows well that a single failed harvest, a single act of defiance, could bring the wrath of the Eternal Throne upon his house. Thus, he governs with ruthless efficiency, ensuring tribute never falters. His enemies whisper that his golden halls are built atop a mountain of corpses, but none dare say it aloud.

House Rashidi

Overseeing Nioba’s mineral wealth and the dreaded Bone Forges, House Rashidi holds dominion over the Bonewall Mountains, extracting gold, iron, and stone from the land’s deepest veins. Ruled by the calculating and reclusive Lady Vassara Rashidi, this house maintains a near-religious reverence for industry, treating the mines and forges as sacred temples of production. The famed “Blood Gold” of Nioba—soaked in the suffering of its enslaved laborers—flows from the vaults of Rashidi’s citadel, making the house one of the wealthiest in the empire.
Lady Vassara herself is a woman of chilling pragmatism. She cares little for luxury, investing her wealth in the refinement of her province’s industry, ensuring that the forges burn eternally. Though she appears utterly loyal to Hephsut, whispers persist that she harbors secret knowledge—ancient techniques and hidden tunnels beneath the Bonewall that even the Risen do not know of. Whether these rumors hold any truth remains to be seen, but many suspect that if House Rashidi ever falls, it will be because of secrets buried deep within the mountain’s heart.

House Jaddan

Controlling the coastlines and the formidable naval stronghold of Fort Kaliq, House Jaddan is the gatekeeper of the Gulf of Kitesh. No ship sails through Nioba’s waters without the approval—or the extortion—of its ruler, the cruel and war-hardened Grand Admiral Keshan Jaddan. His fleets harry traders, demand tolls, and enforce Hephsut’s will at sea, making him one of the most feared men beyond Nioba’s shores.
House Jaddan is infamous for its ruthlessness, its wealth drawn from seized cargo, tribute from merchant ships, and the sale of captured sailors into slavery. Grand Admiral Keshan himself is an aging warrior, but his hunger for power remains undiminished. He knows that the Kiteshi Empire eyes the gulf with longing, and he stands ever ready to sink their ambitions beneath the waves. Yet, he fears the one war he cannot fight—should Hephsut ever decide that House Jaddan has grown too bold, no fleet, no fortress, and no tribute will be enough to save them.

Justice of the Dead

Law in Nioba is simple and brutal. There is no tolerance for defiance, no mercy for rebellion. Crimes are met with immediate and absolute punishment, often carried out by Risen Enforcers—undead adjudicators who serve as judge, jury, and executioner. Those found guilty of treason, theft, or failure to meet tribute demands are either enslaved or sentenced to the Bone Forges, where even death is not an escape. Lesser crimes are punished with servitude, debt-markings, or public mutilation. Justice is not measured by morality but by necessity—order must be maintained at all costs, and the dead have little patience for the frailties of the living.

The Tribute System

All of Nioba serves Hephsut, and to do so, it must produce. Every province must pay tribute—grain, gold, slaves, and artifacts of the old faiths. The Merchant Princes ensure these payments are met, taking what is needed by force if necessary. However, care is given not to increase tribute too much—not out of concern for the people, but to ensure they can continue producing without collapse. However, in times of severe shortfall, sacrifices must be made, and entire villages are uprooted, their people sent to labor camps or the mines, their homes left to crumble. Trade flows outward, but little returns; the wealth of Nioba is not meant for its people, only for its rulers. What Nioba cannot extract from its own land, it takes from others, using its wealth and power to manipulate foreign trade and ensure a steady influx of materials essential to Hephsut’s war machine.

Culture

Nioba’s culture is a fractured mosaic of ancient traditions entwined with the suffocating grip of Hephsut’s tyranny. What once was a land of radiant faith, artistic expression, and celestial wisdom has been twisted into a realm where life serves death, and history is rewritten beneath the shadow of the Eternal Throne. Despite this, echoes of the old ways persist, hidden beneath layers of fear and indoctrination, whispered in forbidden prayers and etched into the hearts of those who remember.

Religion and Faith

In ancient times, Nioba was a land devoted to the worship of Amnut, the Sun God, with temples dedicated to his radiance scattered across its cities and deserts. The Prophet-Kings were both rulers and divine intermediaries, guiding their people through omens, dreams, and sacred rituals tied to the rhythms of the sun and stars. After Hephsut’s conquest, these faiths were outlawed, their temples desecrated or repurposed into shrines honoring Hephsut himself. The Black Priests enforce a brutal religious orthodoxy centered around the cult of Hephsut, declaring him the eternal god-king, the Slayer of false deities, and the architect of Nioba’s so-called eternal prosperity.
Every household is legally required to maintain a shrine or idol of Hephsut, with daily offerings and prayers performed under the watchful eyes of both mortal informants and Risen enforcers. Failure to show proper reverence is seen as both heresy and treason. Yet, in hidden corners of Nioba, forbidden sun symbols are carved into stone walls, and flickering candles burn for gods long thought dead. Secret gatherings of Sun-Clans and dissenters risk their lives to honor Amnut and the forgotten pantheon, believing that faith itself is an act of rebellion.

Art and Architecture

Nioba’s architecture is a testament to both its glorious past and its bleak present. Ancient cities like Imbali and Port Zisou boast

towering obelisks, grand plazas, and sweeping palatial complexes built during the time of the Prophet-Kings. Sandstone structures adorned with golden mosaics and sun motifs speak of a civilization that once reached for the heavens. However, under Hephsut’s rule, these monuments have been defiled. Statues of the Old Gods have been toppled or re-carved in Hephsut’s image, their faces chiseled away to erase memory itself. New constructions—grim necropoli, ossuaries, and bone-plated fortresses—rise alongside ancient ruins, a stark reminder of death’s dominion.
Art, once a celebration of life, beauty, and cosmic wonder, has been reduced to propaganda. Murals depict Hephsut’s triumph over the Prophet-Kings, his image portrayed as a towering figure bathed in false divine light, conquering chaos and bestowing "eternal order." However, subtle acts of defiance persist—hidden symbols etched beneath layers of paint, forbidden poems recited in hushed voices, and weavers embedding rebellious patterns within tapestries passed hand-to-hand among sympathizers.

Social Hierarchy and Daily Life

Nioban society is a rigid hierarchy, its foundations built on fear, oppression, and the promise of privilege for those who serve the Eternal Throne without question. At the pinnacle stands Hephsut, his will absolute and unquestionable. Beneath him are the Risen Nubians, Ravagers, and the Black Priests, the enforcers of both military might and ideological control. The Merchant Princes rule over their provinces as vassals, their wealth and power contingent on their loyalty and usefulness to Hephsut.
The vast majority of Nioba’s population are common laborers, artisans, and farmers, many bound in slavery or debt servitude. Daily life revolves around production—of grain, gold, and bodies to feed the endless demands of tribute. Markets buzz with the sale of goods and people alike, with slave auctions as common as spice stalls. Public executions, displays of Risen enforcers, and propaganda festivals serve as both entertainment and reminders of the Eternal Throne’s reach.
Despite the oppressive atmosphere, pockets of cultural vibrancy survive. Storytelling remains a sacred tradition, with traveling bards weaving tales that subtly mock the regime or preserve the memory of Nioba’s lost heroes. Music—haunting flute melodies, deep drumbeats, and sorrowful chants—echoes through city alleys and desert camps, carrying the weight of history and defiance.

Festivals and Public Rituals

Festivals in Nioba are orchestrated tools of control, designed to reinforce loyalty and glorify Hephsut’s eternal rule. The Festival of the Undying Sun marks the anniversary of Hephsut’s conquest, with grand processions of Risen soldiers and grotesque parades featuring enslaved captives to honor the "benevolence" of the Eternal Throne. Participation is mandatory, and any sign of dissent is met with brutal reprisal.
Yet even these hollow ceremonies cannot fully erase the echoes of older traditions. The Eve of Sun's Rest, once a sacred celebration of Amnut’s solar blessings, is still observed in secret. Families light hidden candles, sharing forbidden stories of the Prophet-Kings and Kitesh, hoping that the sun might carry their prayers over the horizon, beyond the reach of the undead.

Philosophy and Legacy

Philosophical thought in Nioba has been warped by centuries of authoritarian rule. The Black Priests propagate a doctrine of inevitability: death is not an end but a superior state of existence. Mortality is viewed as weakness, while undeath is presented as the ultimate evolution of the soul. Education is limited to state-sanctioned curriculums, erasing knowledge that predates Hephsut’s reign.
However, among the oppressed, a quiet intellectual resistance thrives. Smuggled texts, coded manuscripts, and oral histories circulate within hidden circles. These underground philosophers debate the nature of freedom, the meaning of life in a land ruled by death, and the enduring power of memory against oblivion. For them, the greatest act of rebellion is simply to remember—to keep the flame of Nioba’s true past burning.

Major Settlements

• Port Zisou. The beating heart of Nioba’s maritime trade, Port Zisou is a sprawling coastal metropolis where wealth and cruelty walk hand in hand. Merchant ships dock to trade in gold, grain, and slaves under the watchful eyes of Hephsut’s enforcers. The Grand Exchange, a vast hall of deals and deception, is where the Merchant Princes strike their most lucrative bargains, negotiating over shipments of luxuries and Human lives alike. The docks are lined with massive warehouses, where cargo is stored before being funneled into the markets or loaded onto outbound ships.
  
  
Despite its affluence, unrest simmers in the slums, where whispers of rebellion spread among the desperate. Press gangs roam the streets, seizing debtors and runaways to be sold in the next auction, while smugglers operate in the shadows, trying to siphon riches past the Risen patrols. Merchant lords scheme in their palatial estates, their fates tied to Hephsut’s empire but their greed ever-hungry. For now, the gold flows, and the docks remain open—but for how long?


• Fort Kaliq. Fort Kaliq, Nioba’s naval stronghold, looms over the Gulf of Kitesh, its black stone walls bristling with siege weapons. It is both a fortress and a launch point for maritime raids, where Merchant Princes dispatch warships to demand tribute or seize passing vessels. Captured crews face enslavement or death, while stolen cargo fuels Hephsut’s economy. The fort itself is an imposing bastion, built to withstand both siege and sabotage, its walls reinforced with enchanted stone scavenged from the ruins of the Prophet-Kings’ temples.
  
  
Life in the fortress is one of constant vigilance. The garrison consists of both living and undead warriors, bound together by oaths of servitude or necromantic compulsion. Hephsut’s necromancers conduct dark experiments in its lower dungeons, refining the art of binding spirits to warships. Ghostly vessels prowl the gulf, their sails translucent, their hulls carrying echoes of those lost at sea. Though Kitesh maintains a fleet, they dare not engage Fort Kaliq directly, for its mere presence is enough to keep them at bay.


• Imbali City. The capital of Nioba, Imbali City, is the empire’s agricultural and administrative hub. Built along the River Niobe, its granaries feed the living populace of Nioba under the yoke of the Immortal Lich King, ensuring Hephsut’s dominion remains unbroken. The city’s vast slave markets, the largest in the world, operate beneath the shadow of the Lich King's Majesty, a tremendous gilded statue of Hephsut that takes center-place in the city's central marketplace, where thousands are bought and sold daily. Beneath the city's grand avenues, catacombs stretch for miles, used as both storage for Hephsut’s gold and as a prison for those who defy his will.
  
  
The Merchant Princes rule from opulent estates, their wealth secured through trade, coercion, and servitude. Temples once devoted to Amnut and the old gods have long been stripped of their original purpose, their altars repurposed for Hephsut’s rituals, Their histories rewritten. Yet, even in the heart of darkness, resistance lingers. The faithful of the old ways gather in hidden shrines, passing down forbidden prayers and waiting for the day the sun will shine on Nioba once more.

Economy

Despite the suffocating grip of undeath, Nioba remains a land of immense natural wealth. From the rolling fields along the River Niobe to the dense Bun’Tami Wilds, its resources fuel both its internal economy and international trade. The Merchant Princes, rulers of Nioba’s different provinces, oversee the extraction and distribution of these resources, each province specializing in different industries. Though Hephsut’s dominion casts a long shadow over the land, commerce continues to flow—albeit at a terrible cost.
Nioba’s economy is vast and complex, thriving under the iron grip of Hephsut’s bureaucracy. While the Risen do not require food or wealth, the mortal population still depends on trade, both internally and abroad. The Merchant Princes manage regional economies, ensuring that goods flow in and out of the empire, while Hephsut’s undead enforcers ensure absolute obedience.

• Minerals & Metals. Nioba’s rich gold deposits are legendary. Beneath the Bonewall Mountains and the scorched hills of the north, veins of gold run deep within the Earth, extracted by thousands of enslaved laborers—many of whom are Sun Worshippers, criminals, or political dissidents. These slaves work until their bodies break, after which they are resurrected as undead to continue their toil. When they can no longer function, their remains are cast into the furnaces, fueling the gold forges that refine Nioba’s most prized commodity. Few outside the highest echelons of power know the full horror behind Nioba’s gold, but whispered rumors have given it a name: “Blood Gold.” Apart from gold, the mines yield iron, copper, and Obsidian, crucial for forging both mundane tools and weapons for the Risen legions. Quarries in the Bonewall Mountains supply the empire with black basalt and white limestone, used to construct the monumental necropoli and fortresses of Hephsut’s dominion.

• Agriculture & Livestock. The fertile floodplains along the River Niobe make up Nioba’s agricultural heartland. Vast fields of wheat, barley, and millet stretch for miles, tended by human laborers under the watchful eye of undead overseers. The river’s seasonal floods deposit nutrient-rich silt, ensuring bountiful harvests—most of which go directly to feeding Hephsut’s mortal populace and his Merchant Princes’ households. Sheep and goats are raised in the rolling foothills beyond the farmlands, providing wool and meat. In the Bun’Tami Wilds, ranchers manage herds of long-horned aurochs, highly prized for their strength and resilience. These great beasts are used both for labor and as war mounts for the Merchant Princes’ private militias.

• Timber & Exotic Plants. Though Nioba is mostly arid, the Bun’Tami Wilds are a crucial source of timber. The Sky-Piercer Trees, towering Giants of the jungle, are prized for their dense, rot-resistant wood, which is used in shipbuilding, construction, and the crafting of elaborate furnishings for the nobility. The wilds also produce rare medicinal herbs, psychoactive resins, and exotic spices, highly sought after by foreign alchemists and traders.

Exports

• Gold. The crown jewel of Nioba’s trade, exported in vast quantities to finance the undead empire’s continued expansion. Despite its dark origins, the gold is prized across the world.

• Slaves. One of Nioba’s most controversial exports. While many nations have abolished slavery, those that still permit it prize Nioban slaves for their resilience and discipline, having been broken under Hephsut’s rule.

• Precious Stones. Mined from the depths of the Bonewall Mountains, these materials are shipped to wealthy clients abroad.

• Grain, Livestock, Rare Herbs & Spices. Wheat, millet, barley, and meat sustain Nioba’s own people, but surpluses are sold to neighboring lands. The Bun’Tami Wilds yield ingredients that fetch exorbitant prices in foreign markets.

• Timber. High-quality lumber from the jungle’s towering trees is exported for shipbuilding and construction.

Imports

• Luxury Goods. Finery from foreign lands, including silks, rare wines, and elaborate crafts, are imported for Nioba’s nobility.

• Steel & Advanced Weaponry. While Nioba produces iron, it relies on foreign steel and superior metallurgy from distant lands.

• Alchemy & Arcane Goods. Hephsut’s necromancers require rare reagents and magical artifacts to fuel their dark sorceries.

• Exotic Slaves. Though Nioba exports its own slaves, it also imports particularly exotic or talented captives to serve the pleasure of the nobility.

Military

Nioba’s military is unlike any other in the world. It is a machine of death, ceaseless and tireless, bolstered by the might of Hephsut’s necromantic mastery. No mortal army can match its endurance, for its soldiers do not hunger, do not tire, and do not know fear. Every battle fought strengthens its ranks, for each fallen enemy is another soldier raised to serve the Eternal Throne.
The army operates under the Doctrine of Absolute Warfare—a strategy that values attrition over preservation. Hephsut does not need to conserve forces; he only needs more bodies to raise. His armies advance like an unstoppable tide, their numbers replenished with every victory, every massacre. The war machine of Nioba grinds forward without end, and even its defeats are temporary—what it loses today will rise again tomorrow.

Command Structure

Though Hephsut’s authority is absolute, he rarely concerns himself with the minutiae of battle. His armies are controlled through a rigid, hierarchical structure of undead commanders, each enforcing his will with ruthless efficiency.

• The Eternal Throne (Supreme Authority). At the apex of Nioba’s military structure is Hephsut the Immortal. He does not ride into battle, nor does he waste his energy micromanaging his forces. His will is law, carried out through his chosen enforcers and generals.

• The Voice of Hephsut (Ultimate Executor). The Voice of Hephsut is the only being allowed to issue decrees in his name. While the Voice’s primary role is governance, it also holds absolute authority over the military. A single word from the Voice can send an entire Legion to war or wipe out a province in punishment.

• Risen Nubians (Generals & Strategists). The Risen Nubians are Hephsut’s most feared enforcers—towering, jackal-headed undead crafted by the Black Priests to serve as
  
  generals, tacticians, and executioners of the Eternal Throne’s will. Their presence commands absolute authority, whether leading armies into battle or hunting down those who defy Hephsut’s rule. Unlike common enforcers, Nubians do not patrol aimlessly; they move with purpose, and their appearance beyond the battlefield is a harbinger of doom. To see a Nubian stalking the streets—often alone, needing no guards—is to know that death is close at hand. They hunt rebels, oversee critical tributes, and deliver retribution to treacherous Merchant Princes, their presence alone enough to send ripples of terror through both the powerful and the powerless.

• The Risen Court (Undead Governors & Military Leaders). Beyond the Risen Nubians, a host of Risen Lords and Arch-Necromancers serve as provincial commanders and warlords, ensuring that all of Nioba remains under Hephsut’s control. Many were once great kings, warlords, or generals in life, only to rise again as eternal servants of the Throne.

• Ravagers (Elite Guard). The Ravagers are the defiled remnants of Nioba’s most revered warriors—the Sun-Ward, elite paladins and clerics who once served under Kitesh, wielding sacred Sun Blades forged with a fraction of power from his legendary Sun Spear. Once symbols of divine light, these champions fell during Hephsut’s second war to conquer Nioba, their defeat marking the symbolic death of the old kingdom’s spirit. In a final act of desecration, Hephsut personally shattered their Sun Blades and resurrected the fallen Sun-Ward, twisting them into Ravagers—undead horrors bound to his will. Now serving as elite enforcers and shock troops, second only to the Nubians, Ravagers are unleashed to crush rebellions and spread terror. Their once-glorious armor is now fused with bone and shadow, the shards of their shattered blades embedded in their decayed forms, radiating a perverse echo of the divine power they once wielded. To face a Ravager is to confront not just death, but the corpse of Nioba’s lost hope, animated by the very force that destroyed it.

The Legions of the Dead

Nioba’s military is composed of several tiers of undead soldiers, each with a distinct role. These legions are not uniform; they are adaptive, adjusting their compositions based on terrain, enemy, and objective.

• Risen Guard. The backbone of Hephsut’s armies, the Risen Guard are the rank-and-file undead warriors who march in endless waves against Nioba’s enemies. Clad in ancient armor and wielding curved blades, these skeletal soldiers are relentless and fearless, moving in disciplined formations that do not falter even when hacked apart.

• Risen Blademasters. More than mindless thralls, Blademasters are undead swordsmen raised from Nioba’s greatest warriors. Their skills in life have not faded in death, and they wield scimitars, glaives, and spears with unnatural precision. Unlike the Risen Guard, they retain some of their former intelligence, making them capable of independent thought and duels of skill.

• Risen Reapers. The Risen Reapers are Hephsut’s assassins and enforcers, spectral warriors clad in enchanted shrouds, wielding great scythes imbued with soul-draining magic. They are deployed to hunt specific targets, and when unleashed, they do not stop until their quarry is slain.

• Risen Cavaliers. Mounted on resurrected warbeasts, the Risen Cavaliers form Nioba’s elite heavy cavalry, striking with terrifying speed and power. Their undead steeds—once proud Nioban chargers—are clad in golden armor, their skeletal bodies animated by necrotic energy.

• Risen Conjurers. Often trained by or inducted into the ranks of the Black Priests, Risen Conjurers are Hephsut’s arcane specialists, battlefield necromancers who raise fallen warriors mid-battle and channel devastating spells. Their presence ensures that every soldier who falls will fight again.

Specialized Forces

Hephsut’s army is not merely composed of infantry, cavalry, and spellcasters. It employs specialized forces and monstrous siege units to lay waste to enemy fortifications.

• Bone Giants. Towering constructs of fused bones, Bone Giants are used to smash through walls, rip apart defenses, and crush enemy ranks with colossal clubs. They are constructed from thousands of corpses, their forms stitched together by the dark rites of the Black Priests.

• War Chariots. Chariots, once symbols of Nioba’s past glory, now serve as harbingers of death. Drawn by undead steeds, these chariots thunder across the battlefield, scything down infantry and shattering enemy formations.

The Dread Fleet of Nioba

The Dread Fleet of Nioba. Though not as vast as its land armies, Nioba’s Dread Fleet is a force to be feared. Crewed by the undead, its ships and longboats require no food, no rest, and no respite, allowing them to outlast any blockade or siege.

• Black Galleys. The Black Galleys are Nioba’s primary warships, massive vessels that do not sink even when torn apart. Crewed entirely by Risen, these ships unleash boarding parties of the undead, who drag their foes into the abyss.

• Risen Corsairs. Fast-moving vessels, used for raiding, piracy, and reconnaissance, these ships strike without warning, leaving entire fleets in ruin before vanishing into the mist.

Education

In Nioba, education is not a pursuit of enlightenment or the cultivation of free thought; it is a meticulously crafted instrument of control, wielded by Hephsut the Immortal to shape minds and suppress dissent from cradle to grave. The system serves a singular purpose: to indoctrinate the populace, ensuring unwavering loyalty to the Eternal Throne and erasing the memory of a world that existed before his dominion.

The Structure of Nioban Education

Education in Nioba is state-mandated and overseen by the Ministry of Enlightenment, an ironically named institution controlled by the Black Priests. Every child, regardless of status, is required to attend state-run academies beginning at the age of five. These academies are not places of discovery or growth; they are re-education camps where history is rewritten, critical thinking is stifled, and devotion to Hephsut is paramount.
The curriculum is rigid and unyielding, focusing heavily on three core pillars:

• Historical Revisionism. Students are taught a sanitized version of Nioba’s history, wherein Hephsut is not a conqueror but a divine savior. The Prophet-Kings are portrayed as tyrants, their ancient wisdom recast as folly. Myths glorify Hephsut's alleged triumphs—his defeat of Kitesh, the creation of mathematics, the slaying of mythical beasts—while the true past is buried beneath layers of propaganda.

• Devotional Practices. Daily lessons begin and end with oaths of loyalty to Hephsut. Students are required to memorize sacred texts praising the Eternal Throne, participate in rituals glorifying the undead sovereign, and maintain personal shrines to Him within their homes. Failure to display sufficient zeal can result in disciplinary action, or worse, visits from the Black Priests.

• Practical Skills for Service. Beyond indoctrination, education also prepares individuals for their roles within Nioba's rigid caste system. The children of Merchant Princes receive advanced instruction in administration, economics, and military strategy, grooming them for leadership. The common populace, however, is trained for labor—basic arithmetic for counting tribute, literacy for reading decrees, and physical conditioning for those destined for the mines or military service.

Roshma Academy

The most prestigious and feared educational institution in Nioba is the Roshma Academy, located in the capital of Imbali. Far from being a beacon of higher learning, Roshma is an elite re-education facility designed to produce the future enforcers of Hephsut's regime. Attendance is both an honor and a curse; graduates often ascend to powerful positions within the government, military, or even the ranks of the Black Priests, but only after years of psychological conditioning that strips away any trace of independent thought.
Students at Roshma endure brutal regimens of study, physical training, and ritualistic devotion. Critical thinking is not only discouraged—it is punishable. The academy employs psychological manipulation, peer surveillance, and public shaming to maintain ideological purity. Dissenters are "corrected," a euphemism for torture, re-indoctrination, or permanent disappearance.

The Role of the Black Priests in Education

The Black Priests are the architects of Nioba's educational dogma. They author the textbooks, dictate the curriculum, and serve as both instructors and inquisitors. Their presence in classrooms is a constant reminder that education is not a path to liberation but a mechanism of subjugation.
Through relentless propaganda, they cultivate a society where questioning authority is not just discouraged—it is unthinkable. Students are taught to report family members and peers who exhibit signs of doubt or disloyalty, fostering an environment of paranoia and fear. In this way, the educational system extends Hephsut’s reach into every home, turning even the minds of children into tools of the state.

History

After the Nidean Schism, refugees fled Vauldis' Crimson Council, crossing the harsh, unforgiving expanse of the Gold Expanse desert. These survivors—Mitoni rebels, disenfranchised Nideans, artisans, and scattered scholars—carried rebellion's scars and fragments of arcane mastery. Driven by hope and desperation, they sought lands beyond Nidea’s shadow, fueled by legends of fertile valleys, freedom, and the whispered promises of rebirth.
Weeks of battling thirst, exhaustion, and despair tested them. The scorching sun, relentless winds, and treacherous sands became daily adversaries. Guided by elder tales, maps etched into memory, and the constellations above, their resolve remained unbroken, each sunrise a fragile beacon of hope, each night a quiet prayer to unseen gods. They lost friends and family to the merciless desert, their bones left to rest beneath shifting dunes as silent witnesses to the price of hope. Yet even in grief, they pressed on, their hearts stitched together by shared struggle.

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Age of Dawn

Reaching the River Niobe, they found renewal. Its waters carved life through barren lands, shimmering like liquid emerald against the desert’s ochre. The sound of flowing Water was a balm to their weary souls, and its banks, fertile and rich, promised the stability they craved. On its fertile banks, they founded the Kingdoms of Nioba, preserving Nidea’s magic, reshaped by exile’s lessons, newfound freedom, and the resilience honed in adversity.
They built towering ziggurats with gilded spires that kissed the sky, vast irrigation systems breathing life into the soil, and enchanted obelisks pulsing with leyline energy—symbols of reclaimed identity and defiance against oblivion. Markets flourished beneath their shadows, voices speaking in blended tongues, celebrating unity born from struggle. The streets bustled with artisans and merchants, their stalls brimming with goods crafted from both old-world techniques and newfound innovations inspired by the fertile land.
Unified by hardship, new cultures emerged. Nidean wisdom fused with Mitoni traditions, birthing a vibrant hybrid civilization. Art, language, and philosophy interwove, crafting a unique tapestry. Festivals celebrated not just deities but the resilience of humanity, with dances mimicking the struggles and triumphs of their ancestors. Fragmented sun worship evolved into reverence for Amnut, the Sun God, embodying hope, renewal, and the eternal light that guided them through darkness.
Sun Magic. Solar magic, fueled by sunlight, infused rituals, warfare, and daily life. Priests and mages wielded its radiant power to heal, protect, and destroy—a divine gift from Amnut himself. Temples gleamed with sacred Fire, warriors bore sun-forged blades, and festivals honored the celestial cycle, each celebration a testament to their enduring faith. The power of the sun wasn’t just revered; it was lived, etched into the daily rhythms of life from dawn rituals to twilight offerings.
Despite diverse cultures, Nioba shared a legacy of resisting tyranny. Their founders’ spirit lived on in ziggurats, obelisks, and prayers honoring freedom's cost, a cultural heartbeat echoing across generations. Songs told of the deserts crossed, the rivers claimed, and the battles fought—not just with swords but with the enduring strength of spirit.

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Age of Sun's Rise

During the Rising Age, Nioba’s ambition grew. Diplomats, traders, and envoys ventured beyond their borders, reaching warring northern realms. Nioba wielded diplomacy, economic influence, and strategic warfare to secure trade routes, alliances, and territories, weaving its legacy into distant lands. New cities flourished under Nioban influence, their architecture blending local styles with the iconic spires and obelisks of Nioba’s golden age.

The Merchant Princes. From this influence rose Merchant Princes, blending vast wealth with political power. They commanded trade networks, private armies, and shaped foreign markets and courts, becoming symbols of Nioba’s prosperity and ambition. Their opulent palaces rivaled royal courts, and their decisions could shift the fates of entire regions with the stroke of a pen or the whisper of a deal.
Nioba’s culture spread like wildfire, yet exile's memory endured—a solemn reminder of both fragility and strength, stitched into the soul of the nation. Tales of ancestors who braved deserts and shadows were taught alongside lessons in statecraft and magic, a constant reminder of how far they’d come and how easily it could all be lost.
The Shadow in the Northwest. As Nioba thrived, dark whispers crept from the northwest. Beyond the jagged Bonewall Mountains, strange attacks razed settlements, ambushed caravans, and left only whispers of terror. Survivors spoke of bloodless figures, shadows moving with unnatural precision, and the chilling absence of mercy. These tales spread like wildfire, stoking both fear and denial in equal measure.
Rumors grew: bodies animated by unseen forces, shambling hordes with hollow eyes, and a Lich whose mere presence withered the land. A terrified merchant, face gaunt with fear, pleaded before Prophet-King Ashur-Tel, recounting horrors that gnawed at the edges of sanity. Yet, his past failed prophecies bred skepticism among the ruling elite, who dismissed his warnings as the ramblings of a man lost to superstition and fear.
Ashur-Tel, haunted by ominous visions of ash and shadow, issued warnings etched in desperate proclamations. His nights were plagued by dreams of darkness consuming cities, of rivers running dry under blackened skies. Prosperous kingdoms, drunk on stability, dismissed the threats beyond their borders, blind to the creeping darkness poised to eclipse Nioba’s radiant light.
And so, the darkness grew, patient and relentless, hidden beyond the fragile horizon of complacency, waiting for Nioba’s golden light to flicker—and fall.
But fate does not wait for belief.

Rise of Kitesh

From the shadow of skepticism rose Prince Kitesh, son of the dismissed Prophet-King Ashur-Tel, destined to eclipse those who had scorned his father’s warnings. Fueled by purpose and an unquenchable fire, Kitesh ventured into the Bonewall passes, his resolve tempered through battles with the restless dead. He returned not with pleas, but with irrefutable proof: an undead creature bound in irons.
Before the Prophet-Kings, Kitesh presented his captive. Silence gripped the hall, the creature’s form evidence of the festering darkness beyond the Bonewall Mountains. The faint rattle of

its chains echoed like distant war drums, and fear crept into the hearts of even the bravest Prophet King. Kitesh’s voice sliced through the dread:
“If we do not unite, the dead will spill from the Sulfur Sea and drown Nioba in shadow. Our armies are not enough. We must summon the full might of the sun, or we will all be lost.”
Shaken by the grim spectacle, the Prophet-Kings listened. Their doubts cracked under the weight of undeniable proof. They decreed that Kitesh ascend Mt. Duniaji—the tallest mountain in the world—to commune with Amnut, the Sun God, whose light had guided their ancestors through exile and rebirth.
The First Pilgrimmage. Armed with relics—sun-blessed talismans, divine scrolls inked with sacred incantations, and a spear forged by Nioba’s finest, quenched in the waters of the Niobe River—Kitesh set forth. His journey was no mere pilgrimage but an odyssey through peril and uncertainty, pulling him from Nioba’s sun-drenched heart into the warring realms to the north.
Leading one hundred devoted warriors, scholars, and priests, Kitesh’s path wove through the Bonewall Mountains. They navigated treacherous paths and crossed crumbling bridges. Beyond lay fractured northern kingdoms, torn by petty wars and ancient grudges. Some rulers, intrigued by the prince’s purpose and the radiant symbol he bore, offered wary hospitality. Others saw opportunity, demanding tribute or testing Nioban strength with sudden skirmishes. Kitesh met each challenge with unwavering resolve, his spear a beacon of defiance and divine favor.
The harsh breath of the north greeted Kitesh and his allies—icy winds laced with frost, scouring even the most hardened faces. Mt. Duniaji loomed ahead, its snow-veiled slopes whispering both majesty and menace. Here, beneath its towering shadow, Kitesh dismissed his companions. The final ascent was his alone, a sacred burden that no other could bear.
Kitesh anchored himself with spear and will, climbing until the world below was swallowed by clouds. What transpired atop Mt. Duniaji remains Kitesh’s tale alone. He spoke of reaching the summit—where the sun blazed like an unblinking eye—and finding a lone tree with golden leaves shimmering against the firmament. Beside it sat a radiant shepherd, both humble and eternal.
For one day and one night, Kitesh remained in the shepherd’s quiet company, speaking of gods and men, of light and shadow. The shepherd imbued Kitesh’s spear with the sun’s essence, its light searing through darkness, and charged him with words etched into the marrow of his soul:
"Unite the warring kingdoms under Nioba’s banner to withstand the Lich’s rising tide."
Kitesh descended, his spear blazing with divine brilliance, a beacon seen from distant hills. Word of his ascent raced ahead, carried by traders’ songs and whispered tales spun around fires. Yet it was the spear’s radiant glow that silenced doubt, outshining even the brightest skepticism.

The Dawn Conquest

In the Hall of Dawn, within Nioba’s beating heart, the Prophet-Kings gathered beneath golden banners upon Kitesh's return. They beheld the spear’s brilliance and could not deny its power, whether divine or symbolic. Kitesh’s voice rang out, steady and fierce:
"I have seen Amnut’s light and heard his will. We must stand as one, or darkness will claim us all. Unite, or fall alone."
Silence followed, a heavy hush that settled like ash after flame. His words lingered, embers carried on a sacred wind, igniting hearts with both fear and hope. Nioba’s fate hung between unity—or oblivion. Though pride and political rivalries simmered among the Prophet Kings, the clarity of Kitesh’s purpose and the relic he bore swayed their hearts. Reluctantly at first, they pledged their armies and resources, each recognizing that survival demanded solidarity. Thus began the Dawn Conquest, with Kitesh appointed not as a mere prince, but as the Sun’s Chosen, leading a force of one hundred elite warriors—each handpicked for their valor and devotion, each leading an army of their own.
Conquest of of Kandara. The campaign swept beyond Nioba’s fertile heartlands, surging into the fractured realms of the north. The first kingdom to fall under Kitesh’s banner was Kandara, a realm of fortified desert citadels and fierce horse archers. Kandara’s King, Rahim the Sand-Veiled, met Kitesh in battle near the salt flats of M'Ganu. The clash was brutal, but Kitesh’s tactical brilliance and the inspired fervor of his soldiers shattered Kandara’s forces. Rahim yielded, swearing fealty in exchange for autonomy under Nioba’s protection.
Conquest of of Vazirad. Next was Vazirad, a mountainous kingdom of labyrinthine passes and hidden strongholds that held sway over the Maggra Marches and the Yahnara Hills. Its ruler, Queen Laleh of the Sapphire Veil, was as cunning as she was beautiful, commanding an army adept in ambush and guerilla warfare. Kitesh’s armies struggled against Vazirad’s elusive tactics until he brokered a tense parley, where his charisma and the promise of shared prosperity persuaded Queen Laleh to join his cause. Vazirad's warriors, fierce and loyal, became vital in the mountain campaigns that followed.
Conquest of of Targash. Further south across the Salen'jar Desert lay Targash, a kingdom of sprawling dunes and mighty war caravans. Its Centaur Khan, Barzan the Iron Fang, scorned diplomacy and met Kitesh with relentless cavalry charges across the sands. The battles raged for months, with neither side yielding. Ultimately, it was not the sword but starvation and exhaustion that broke Targash’s resolve. Barzan was captured, brought before Kitesh, and offered clemency in exchange for allegiance. Barzan begrudgingly accepted, becoming one of Kitesh’s most tentative allies.
Conquest of of Panja. The campaign’s most arduous conquest was Panja, a kingdom of lush river valleys, ancient temples, and disciplined armies led by the enigmatic Maharaj Dvipa. Panja’s military prowess rivaled that of Nioba itself, with legions trained in intricate formations and arcane warfare. The Siege of Suryanagar, Panja’s jeweled capital, tested Kitesh’s leadership like no other. For nearly a year, the siege dragged on, with disease and attrition taking a heavy toll. It was Kitesh’s daring nighttime assault, leading his elite warriors through hidden aqueducts beneath the city, that turned the tide. Maharaja Dvipa was slain in the final battle, and Panja was brought under Nioba’s dominion, its rich culture and resources bolstering the expanding empire.
By the end of the Dawn Conquest, Nioba’s banner flew over a vast expanse, uniting diverse kingdoms through a blend of conquest, diplomacy, and visionary leadership. Kitesh, once dismissed as a prince with wild omens, now stood as the architect of a unified empire, his spear’s light a beacon of both divine destiny and human determination.

Hephsut's First Invasion of Nioba

While Kitesh waged his Dawn Conquest, shadows crept across the homeland he left behind. The sporadic raids from the Sulfur Sea grew bolder, swelling into coordinated assaults that gnawed and probed at Nioba's defenses. Outposts along the Bonewall Mountains fell silent, their garrisons overwhelmed, their soldiers rising again as thralls beneath the banner of death.
The Prophet Kings had underestimated the growing threat. With Nioba's armies divided—one half marching with Kitesh in conquest, the other spread thin across the homeland—the land stood vulnerable. The enemy was an organized host, led by a foul force. From the choking mists of the Sulfur Sea emerged Hephsut, the Immortal—a lich clad in regal decay, crowned in bone, and wielding necromantic power that blighted the very earth beneath his feet. He proclaimed himself the Immortal Lich King, sent to reclaim Nioba from the folly of life.
His first blasphemous acts was the desecration of the Valley of the Prophet Kings, the resting place of Nioba's most revered rulers, oracles, hierophants, and priests. This valley of sacred tombs, nestled in the only passable road through the Bonewall Mountains, became a grotesque crucible of undeath. Hephsut's dark sorcery twisted the valley, raising an army from the very ancestors who had guided and protected Nioba for generations. Kings rose from gilded sarcophagi, their crowns tarnished, their wisdom lost to hollow eyes and a slavish devotion to the lich.
The flood came swift and merciless. Cities along the Niobe River crumbled, their people harvested into the growing legions of the dead. The undead did not tire, did not falter, and with every battle, their ranks grew with the fallen. Kingdom after kingdom fell, Prophet Kings slaughtered or turned into mockeries of their former glory, bound to Hephsut's will.
Yet Nioba did not fall completely. The city of Imbali, fortified by its ancient walls and bolstered by desperate survivors, became the final bastion of resistance. Here, the last remnants of the Prophet Kings' bloodlines rallied under the flickering banner of Amnut. Imbali's defenders fought with the ferocity of those with nothing left to lose, their prayers rising with the smoke of burning pyres.

However, Hephsut's hunger was boundless and impatient. Satisfied with Nioba's near-subjugation, he turned his gaze northward, unknowingly retracing the path Kitesh had carved during his conquest. His legions surged beyond the Bonewall Mountains, pouring into the territories of the once-warring kingdoms, seeking to likewise shackle them under his dominion. It was there, upon the narrow plains and winding passes near the shores of the gulf—where the settlement of Kaf’nia Bay would one day rise—that Kitesh, triumphant from his campaigns, marched southward with an army tempered by conquest and bound by unshakable purpose. His legion, thousands strong, met Hephsut’s undead tide in a cataclysmic clash.
The Battle of Kaf'nia Bay. The armies of the living and the dead collided, blades against bone, with Kitesh himself at the vanguard, his spear gleaming like a shard of the sun. This was not the end of Nioba, for though much had been lost, the flame of defiance still burned in the hearts of its people. And on that battlefield, beneath a sky heavy with ash, the struggle for Nioba's soul reached its fiercest crescendo.
Before the fateful engagement, Kitesh gathered his one hundred warriors, those who had been his steadfast companions throughout the Dawn Conquest. Beneath the morning sun, he blessed each of their blades with a fraction of power drawn from his Sun Spear, infusing them with radiant energy that shimmered like captured dawnlight. These warriors became living extensions of Kitesh's will, their blades cutting with the fury of the sun itself.
Hephsut, towering and shrouded in golden regalia, led his legions of the dead, his voice a hollow echo commanding legions that did not tire, did not fear, and knew no mercy. Opposing him stood Kitesh, his radiant spear a beacon amid the chaos, rallying mortals from every conquered kingdom, their spirits forged in the fires of unity and vengeance.

The clash was apocalyptic. Waves of undead crashed against disciplined phalanxes of Nioban and allied warriors, the ground slick with the ichor of both the living and the reanimated. Kitesh moved like a force of nature, his Sun Spear carving through abominations with arcs of blinding light, each strike burning the corruption from their bones. His one hundred warriors fought with divine fury, their blessed Sun Blades cleaving through fleshless foes.
At the heart of the chaos, Kitesh and Hephsut met face-to-face. Their duel was a tempest within the storm, the radiant blaze of the Sun Spear clashing against torrents of necrotic magic. Hephsut's dark energy surged with malevolence, manifesting shadowy claws, tendrils of toxic sand, and bone-forged weapons, but Kitesh countered with the unwavering brilliance of the sun, each strike punctuated by the roars of his army. The blades of Kitesh's warriors scorched the undead, rendering them unable to rise again.
In a climactic moment, Kitesh drove his Sun Spear through Hephsut's chest, the radiant energy bursting forth in a blinding conflagration. Hephsut's body disintegrated into ash, scattered by the winds. Yet even as victory songs filled the Air, Kitesh knew the truth that liches never truly die. Hephsut's soul endured, hidden, festering, and waiting.
The forces of Hephsut either collapsed in that moment or were routed from the battlefield. The undead, bereft of their master’s will, crumbled into dust or fled into the dark corners of the world. The battlefield fell silent, save for the cries of the wounded and the prayers of the victorious.

Birth of the Kiteshi Empire

The Prophet Kings, in awe of Kitesh's triumph, declared the formation of the Kiteshi Empire, a vast realm forged from the ashes of conquest and the crucible of war. Kitesh was hailed as the Sun's Chosen, his legacy etched into the annals of history.
Months later, caravans of Naga traversing the treacherous Bonewall Mountains discovered a figure cloaked in rags, his form weak but his hatred palpable. Recognizing the remnants of dark power within him, they captured the lich and delivered him to Kitesh, an act that forever seeded Hephsut's bitter enmity towards the Naga people.

The Eternal Tomb. Realizing that death was not a prison strong enough for Hephsut, Kitesh gathered his one hundred warriors and petitioned the Prophet Kings to construct a tomb deep within the Bonewall Mountains. This prison would be sealed with wards of both divine and arcane origin, crafted to bind Hephsut's soul and body in perpetual stasis, an eternal darkness from which none could escape. Thus, Hephsut was entombed as a vanquished foe—a reminder that even the brightest light casts the darkest shadow.

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The Golden Age of Kitesh

With the dust of battle settled and Hephsut entombed within the impenetrable vaults carved deep into the Bonewall Mountains, Kitesh turned his gaze to the future. His select cadre of one hundred warriors, forged in the fires of conquest and sanctified by the light of Amnut, were named the Sun Ward. These champions were not mere soldiers but living embodiments of Kitesh's vision—each blade they carried imbued with a fragment of the radiant energy from his Sun Spear. Their charge was sacred: to safeguard the Eternal Tomb, Nioba, and the far-reaching territories of the newly forged Kiteshi Empire.

The Sun Ward. The Sun Ward became legends in their own right. When a Sun Ward fell, their blade was reclaimed, cleansed in the sacred waters of the River Niobe, and bestowed upon a successor chosen by Kitesh himself. This ritual ensured that the lineage of the Sun Ward remained unbroken, their legacy intertwined with the very essence of the empire. The presence of the Sun Ward was both a symbol of divine favor and an unyielding reminder of the price paid to secure peace.

A New Age Dawns

With Hephsut's shadow banished and Nioba free to heal, the Kiteshi Empire flourished like never before. Trade routes blossomed, weaving connections from the fertile banks of the River Niobe to the distant frontiers of conquered territories. Grand cities rose, adorned with towering ziggurats and sun-bathed plazas, where golden mosaics depicted the saga of Kitesh and the triumph of light over darkness. The heartland of Nioba became the spiritual Nexus of the empire, where sun worship evolved into a unifying force that transcended borders and cultures.
Kitesh was crowned the King of Kings, the Great Seer, a legendary warrior, his visage immortalized in statues of gleaming marble and gold. His rule was marked by wisdom, justice, and an unwavering devotion to Amnut. Under his leadership, the empire entered an unprecedented era of growth and prosperity. Scholars, artisans, and philosophers thrived, their works inspired by the belief that the sun would never set on the vast Kiteshi Empire.
Temples dedicated to Amnut rose in every major city, their spires piercing the heavens, reflecting the eternal light that Kitesh had brought to the world. Festivals celebrated the unification of the realms, with rituals honoring the sun's journey across the sky, symbolizing the perpetual vigilance of the Sun Ward and the enduring spirit of the Kiteshi people.
As the Kiteshi Empire basked in the twilight of its golden age, its heart grew complacent, lulled by centuries of prosperity. The memory of Hephsut, the Immortal, faded into the annals of legend, his dark deeds reduced to cautionary tales whispered by hearths. But the shadows of history have long arms, and they reached into the depths of Nioba to stir ancient evils once more.

The Infinus Maledus & The War of the Undying

The Infinus Maledus, a dark tome of unspeakable curses and plagues, was hidden beneath the fortified vaults of Nioba, entrusted to the Sun Ward after its transfer from the Empire of the Celestial Dragon. Guarded with fervor, it was believed impenetrable. But Vauldis, the First Lich, whose name was etched into the blackest pages of history, had not forgotten its existence. Through whispers carried by the winds of undeath, he learned of the tome's location. Spies, Awakened cultists, and corrupted officials within Nioba fed him scraps of knowledge, piece by piece, until he mapped the labyrinthine defenses that shielded the book.
In a masterstroke of espionage, Vauldis infiltrated Nioba with shadows. His agents sowed chaos among the Sun Ward, orchestrating internal strife and assassinations that weakened their unity. Under cover of political turmoil, Vauldis himself, cloaked in dark magics, slipped into the sacred vaults. The wards meant to repel death magic did little against the architect of undeath himself. With the Infinus Maledus in his grasp, he vanished, leaving only the corpses of the Sun Ward's finest in his wake.
A Dreadful Gambit. Desperation gripped the Sun Ward. The undead hordes surged across the lands as the War of the Undying raged across the world for a century, driven by Vauldis' unholy ambition to reunite the Infinus Maledus, Infinus Sanguis, and Infinus Mortis, forging them into the apocalyptic Infinus Apocryphum to ascend as a god of death. With no other recourse, the Sun Ward turned to the unthinkable: they approached Hephsut, the very lich they had imprisoned within the Bonewall Mountains.
Their plea was a bitter one, for Hephsut's hatred for Vauldis burned hotter than the Sun Spear itself. In life, he had been Vauldis' scribe, and in undeath, his resentful creation. The humiliation of servitude festered within Hephsut for centuries. In exchange for his freedom and the promise of the Infinus Maledus once Vauldis was defeated, Hephsut agreed to aid them. He revealed secrets only an ancient like him could know—the vulnerabilities in Vauldis' phylactery network, the rituals binding his soul, and the dark pacts he had forged in forgotten eras.
Armed with this forbidden knowledge, the Sun Ward and the armies of the Pact dealt Vauldis his final defeat at Ruin's Peak. But victory bore a terrible price. Hephsut, ever true to his word, claimed the Infinus Maledus amidst the ashes of battle. The Sun Ward, depleted and battered, could do nothing to stop him.

The Wrath of the Immortal

With the First Lich defeated and the Infinus Maledus claimed, Hephsut’s simmering resentment boiled into fury. The praise, the songs, the monuments—all dedicated to the Sun Ward, while Hephsut, the architect of Vauldis' downfall, was left in the shadows of forgotten history. His hatred grew, not just for the mortals who slighted him, but for the very Empire that dared to cage him like a beast.
In a calculated strike fueled by betrayal and vengeance, Hephsut turned on the Sun Ward. He did not send legions or call upon his undead hosts; he went himself. A figure wreathed in shadowed regalia, crowned with malice, he stormed the sanctum where the hundred sacred Sun Blades were kept. One by one, he shattered them with necromantic might and cruel precision, each blade screaming as if the souls of its past wielders felt the desecration. The once-glistening weapons, forged in the light of Amnut's grace, were reduced to nothing more than jagged stumps and broken hilts.

Hephsut's Second Invasion of Nioba

Thirty years after dismantling the Sun Ward, Hephsut recommenced his relentless campaign to conquer Nioba. The scars of the War of the Undying had left Nioba vulnerable, its armies fractured, and its people weary.
The Scarab Plague. Hephsut turned his gaze to the Infinus Maledus, drawing upon its abyssal knowledge to unleash the Scarab Plague upon Nioba. Born from the cursed pages of that

dark tome, the plague swept across the land like a living Nightmare. Swarms of blighted scarabs poured forth, their obsidian carapaces glinting like shards of shattered night beneath a sun they sought to eclipse.
The plague was more than pestilence—it was an apocalypse made flesh, devouring skin and bone, spreading sickness with every bite, and reanimating the dead as grotesque parodies of life. Its ravenous tide consumed not just the bodies of the living but the very bloodline of Nioba’s Prophet-Kings, severing their sacred link to Amnut and casting the empire into leaderless disarray.
Hephsut’s armies followed in the plague's wake, marching through the remnants of Nioba like reapers in a harvest. Temples of the sun god Amnut were defiled and the land that once basked in the eternal light of the Kiteshi Empire was plunged into darkness, its heartland scarred and shattered, heralding a new era under the shadow of the Immortal Lich.
Betrayal of the Merchant Princes. Merchant princes, whose wealth had once fortified kingdoms, now bartered their legacies for fleeting safety, only to find themselves enslaved by fear and corruption. Some capitulated to Hephsut's rule, securing their power and wealth by betraying their own people. Their houses were absorbed into the new order, granted dominion over provinces in exchange for unwavering loyalty.
Cities that once gleamed with golden spires crumbled beneath the relentless onslaught, their grandeur buried under ash, their streets haunted by the echoes of forgotten prayers and the hollow footsteps of the damned.
Despite the battered state of the Kiteshi Empire, Nioba's defenders fought with a fervor born of desperation, clinging to the remnants of their ancestral pride and the dwindling hope that the light of the sun would endure.
The Battle of Imbali City. The final stand came at Imbali City, the last bastion of Nioban resistance. Its walls, now bore the scars of relentless sieges, their brilliance dimmed beneath layers of soot and blood. Amid the rubble and ruin, the leader of the Sun Ward—a formidable woman whose name was etched in the hearts of her warriors but scoured from history—confronted Hephsut on a battlefield littered with the blood of the fallen. She wielded the ancient Sun Spear, the legendary heirloom passed through generations of Sun Ward commanders.
Their clash was a grim reflection of the battle fought centuries before, but this time, the stakes were heavier, the hope dimmer. The air trembled as divine light clashed against necrotic shadow. Amidst the chaos and carnage, the Sun Ward Commander, with a radiant arc of her spear, carved free a crucial page from Hephsut’s black tome—the page that bound his dominion over the scarab swarms. As the sacred parchment was severed, the scarabs perished en masse, littering the battlefield like chitinous rain.
Yet victory came at a terrible price.
Enraged, Hephsut unleashed a blight upon the commander so potent that even Nioba’s most powerful clerics and healers could not have purified it. The curse ravaged the Sun Ward commander, corrupting her flesh and soul and forcing into a desperate retreat, she fled with her most trusted allies, her strength waning with each labored breath. Before succumbing to the curse’s withering grasp, she entrusted the stolen page to her loyal companions, who sealed it within a hidden Nioban crypt, veiled from Hephsut’s gaze and protected by ancient wards etched with prayers to Amnut.
Eventually, Hephsut found her lifeless body among the sun-bleached dunes. In an act of spite and dominance, he shattered the sacred Sun Spear, splintering it into fragments, its divine light snuffed out like a dying star.
With the fall of Imbali City, Nioba’s golden age crumbled to ash and legend, its once-glorious empire reduced to whispers carried on winds haunted by the echoes of the past.

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Age of Dusk

With Nioba shattered and the last embers of resistance snuffed out, Hephsut cemented his dominion through a regime of fear, Necromancy, and ruthless oppression. He established the Eternal Domain, a realm where the living served the dead, and death was no longer an end but a cruel metamorphosis into eternal servitude. The sacred temples of Amnut were razed or desecrated, twisted into grotesque shrines exalting Hephsut's grim supremacy. Once-hallowed texts were rewritten, stripped of their divine essence, their words now hollow praises for the Eternal Lich.
The Merchant Princes, who had once commanded power through wealth and influence, were either subjugated as puppet rulers or eradicated entirely. Their titles, once symbols of prestige, became hollow echoes under Hephsut’s iron rule—mere masks to pacify the fractured remnants of Nioba’s populace. Those who bent the knee were granted dominion over provinces, founding dynasties that would become synonymous with both opulence and betrayal. These Merchant Princes governed with ruthless precision, tasked with extracting tribute, crushing dissent, and sustaining the dark heart of Hephsut’s empire. Their authority, though vast within their fiefdoms, was a fragile facade upheld by unwavering loyalty to the Eternal Throne. Ambition was tolerated only when it served Hephsut’s design; failure or treachery was met with swift and absolute annihilation.
Alongside them, administrative power was parceled out to a shadowy council of necromancer lords, each overseeing key regions of Nioba. Their loyalty was bound through blood magic, fear, and the omnipresent shadow of Hephsut’s wrath. At the heart of his dominion, the Infinus Maledus remained clutched in his possession—a symbol of conquest and an inexhaustible reservoir of forbidden knowledge from which he continued to draw unholy power.
To enforce his will, Hephsut forged the Risen Legion—an elite cadre of undead enforcers, led by his most fanatical lieutenants and the reanimated remnants of the once-revered Sun Ward, now cursed as his Ravagers. Bound by dark sorcery, these fallen warriors served the very tyrant they had died opposing, their former identities eroded, their souls shackled to an eternal nightmare. Surveillance was absolute; dissenters were executed without hesitation and conscripted into undeath, their memories stripped, their identities lost within the faceless ranks of Hephsut’s eternal army.
As a cruel symbol of his triumph over Nioba’s radiant past, Hephsut mounted the shattered shards of the Sun Spear above his Eternal Throne. Once a beacon of divine light and hope, the spear now hung as a fractured relic, its broken fragments glinting like dying embers—a stark reminder that even the brightest flames could be extinguished.

Land of the Broken Sun

Nioba, once the radiant heart of the Kiteshi Empire, now languishes in perpetual twilight. The sun—once an emblem of life, divinity, and power—hangs distant and dim, its weakened rays unable to pierce the suffocating pall of Hephsut’s dominion. The land itself bears the scars of conquest, etched into both its landscapes and its people—its history rewritten, its heroes erased, and its legacy buried beneath ash and bone.
Under Hephsut’s rule, Nioba now stands as a kingdom of shadows, where the living toil beneath the gaze of an undead aristocracy ruling over an empire of the dead. Cities still pulse with activity, not with the vibrancy of life, but as hollow mechanisms designed to feed the insatiable hunger of the necrotic elite. Grand boulevards, once sacred pathways leading to temples of light, now spiral toward monolithic statues honoring the Immortal Lich King. These towering effigies cast suffocating shadows over streets choked with fear and silence, their presence a constant reminder of a freedom long extinguished.

Yet beneath this iron grip, faint embers of defiance smolder.
Hidden shrines to Amnut and the forgotten gods endure, carved into secret chambers, honored through whispered prayers spoken in the dark. Among the oppressed, forbidden tales of Kitesh and the lost Prophet Kings drift from lips to eager ears—fragile sparks of remembrance kindling hope in hearts worn thin by despair. These stories, outlawed yet unforgotten, are seeds planted deep within Nioba’s soul, buried beneath centuries of ash, waiting for the day they might bloom anew.
Even after generations of darkness, the spirit of Nioba remains unbroken—patient, defiant, and quietly yearning for the dawn. In every hushed story, every hidden symbol, and every stolen prayer, the promise endures: that one day, the sun will rise again, banishing the shadow and reclaiming the land it once bathed in its sacred light.

"Long Live the Lich"

Founding Date

NC. 150

Type

Geopolitical, Kingdom

Capital

Imbali City

Alternative Names

The Eternal Dominion, The Black Empire, The Kingdom of Ash, Hephsut’s Shroud,

Predecessor Organization

• Kingdoms of Nioba

Training Level

Elite

Veterancy Level

Veteran

Demonym

Nioban

Leader

Hephsut

Founders

• Hephsut

Head of State

Hephsut

Head of Government

Hephsut

Government System

Thanatocracy / Necrocracy

Power Structure

Feudal state

Economic System

Market economy

Official State Religion

Black Priesthood

Subsidiary Organizations

• House Amunet
• House Jaddan
• House Rashidi

Location

Nioba

Official Languages

• Nioban
• Trade-tongue

Controlled Territories

• Bun'Tami Wilds
• Nioba

Neighboring Nations

• Empire of the Celestial Dragon
• Kiteshi Empire

Related Species

• Human

Related Historical Events

• NC. 155
  End of the Nioban Kingdoms & The Age of Dusk
• NC. 150
  Hephsut's Second Invasion of Nioba
• NC. 120
  Fall of the Sun Ward

The Risen

In the Eternal Domain of Hephsut, being "Risen" represents both spiritual elevation and socio-political advancement, the highest honor a mortal can achieve. Unlike typical views of undeath as decay, the Risen are revered as transcendent beings—eternally bound in service to Hephsut the Immortal. It's not just a status; it's a privilege and a coveted goal, subtly tethered to Hephsut's will.
The Risen are not mindless undead but entities imbued with necromantic essence, their souls bound to their bodies through rituals that preserve their minds and skills. While lesser undead serve as drones, the Risen retain echoes of their past selves, loyal to The Eternal Throne. Their luminous eyes and incorruptible forms signify their eternal purpose. Hephsut’s unseen influence threads through them all, ensuring their unwavering fidelity. They serve as enforcers, scholars, and commanders, embodying Hephsut's enduring will. No Risen is capable of rebelling, for even the most autonomous among them remain bound by an invisible chain of Hephsut's subtle control.

The Rite of Ascendance

The Black Priests oversee the Rite of Ascendance, the ritual that anchors souls in eternal servitude. This involves sacrifices, ancient incantations, and necromantic sigils. While loyal soldiers, scholars, and officials often undergo this rite, the highest honor is to be Risen directly by Hephsut.

The Mark of Hephsut

To be personally Risen by Hephsut is the ultimate distinction, seen as divine favor. These individuals gain enhanced resilience, sharper intellect, and an unbreakable connection to Hephsut himself, a constant, subtle influence woven into their consciousness. They become generals, high administrators, or direct emissaries, adorned with sacred Runes and golden inlays, embodying Hephsut's authority. Legends speak of Hephsut raising individuals by will alone, venerated as saints in Nioba's lore. Regardless of status, all Risen are ensnared by Hephsut’s omnipresent dominance, their thoughts incapable of straying into true defiance.

The Risen Hierarchy

The Risen form an elite class above living nobility. Their hierarchy includes:

• Risen Blessed by Hephsut. Quasi-divine among the undead, bound directly to Hephsut’s mind.
• Sanctified Risen. Resurrected by High Black Priests, yet subtly influenced by Hephsut’s overarching control.
• Common Risen. Soldiers, officials, and artisans continuing their roles after death, their loyalty reinforced by an invisible thread to the Eternal Throne.
• Nameless Risen. Lesser undead with minimal identity, handling menial tasks, their will entirely consumed by Hephsut’s distant yet omnipresent dominion.

For mortals, securing the Rite of Ascendance is a prized ambition. Families compete to achieve this, hoping to immortalize their legacy within the undead aristocracy.

The Paradox of Immortality

Despite the honor, being Risen is both liberation from death and eternal bondage. Immortality comes at the cost of endless servitude. The Black Priests suppress dissent, but whispers persist—questioning if this eternal life is a gift or a gilded cage. However, such doubts are fleeting, for Hephsut’s subtle control ensures that even the seed of rebellion withers before it can take root. Beneath it all, Hephsut’s omnipresent influence remains—a silent, inescapable force binding every Risen, ensuring eternal loyalty. Still, for many, eternal existence under Hephsut's dominion is worth any sacrifice.

The Scarab Cult

The Scarab Cult are a shadowy sect within the Black Priests, obsessed with the symbolism of scarabs—creatures associated with rebirth, decay, and transformation. Members of the Scarab Cult undergo grotesque rituals, allowing living scarabs to infest their bodies as a sign of devotion. These scarabs act as both spies and parasites, feeding on the priest’s decaying flesh while carrying fragments of Hephsut’s will.
The Scarab Cult is tasked with rooting out rebellion. Their agents can implant scarabs into traitors, allowing Hephsut to see through their eyes and listen through their ears before slowly devouring them from the inside.

The Outlawing of Religion and Language

In the Eternal Domain of Hephsut, the Kiteshi language is more than a means of communication—it is a relic of rebellion, a whisper of defiance buried beneath layers of imperial control. Spoken across vast territories during the height of the Kiteshi Empire, its melodic tones and intricate scripts now echo only in forbidden corners, outlawed by decree of the Eternal Throne. The language’s association with Nioba’s ancient rival and its revolutionary histories marked it for eradication. Speaking Kiteshi, even in private, is an act of treason, punishable by death or worse—eternal servitude as a mindless Risen. The Black Priests patrol for hidden texts, systematically burning libraries, defacing inscriptions, and executing any found preserving its words.
Sun worship suffers a fate just as grim. Reverence for Amnut, the once-venerated Sun God, is declared heresy, his temples desecrated or repurposed into monuments of Hephsut’s glory. Rituals once performed at dawn are replaced by ceremonies honoring the Eternal Throne, with the rising sun now seen as a hollow gesture, powerless against the dominion of undeath. Symbols of the sun—golden disks, radiant motifs, or solar amulets—are banned, their possession a silent confession of sedition also punishable by death.