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Post by axeldonia on Dec 19, 2018 20:54:53 GMT -5
Somewhere in southern Calveria
After a couple of days of travelling via carriage, the caravan of prisoners seemed to have finally arrived at their destination. Oskar watched anxiously as the city walls approached, the soft sound of hooved against mud exchanged with the clattering of cobble. As they arrived at the gates, Oskar noticed the walls were lined with catpeople staring at the wagon trail. Evidently news of their arrival had arrived before they had. The iron gate closed behind them with a mighty thud and the wagons continued to the central square, whereupon the prisoners were finally ushered out of the wagons and onto the main square, quickly forming into lines under the supervision of the guards. Oskar and his companion were taken out of the lines by two guards and dragged over to kneel before a large platform erected in the middle of the square, upon which was a cat dressed in ornate armour, perched upon a simple wooden stool, examining the two with a blank expressions.
“Who are you, and why have your travelled to our lands? We have not since the time of myth seen the likes of you here.”
Oskar spoke up with only a slight tremble in his voice.
“We are but humble merchants from the faraway Islands of Titenfisca. We found lost cargo on our journey and decided to return it to its rightful owners. We were thus intrigued by this strange land and wanted to venture further inwards.”
The cat leaned back, nodding to himself.
“Rumors tell your ships harbour iron beasts that spew thunder, is that right?”
“W-Well, it’s not quite that simple. They’re-”
“Spare the details for my scholars. If you ever want to see your island again, I advise you teach them your secrets truthfully, so that we may create these things ourselves, understood?”
Oskar’s heart sank at the request, but he nonetheless nodded.
“Good. Guards, take them away.”
A pair of guard approached the two squids as the islander accompanying them was dragged forward, causing a gasp to run through the crowd. The cat suddenly held up a hand, stopping the guards dragging the squids in their tracks.
“Is this your doing? have you already consorted with our enemies?”
“Sh-She was just our guide!”
“Very well. She will go with you.”
At this, a catgirl dressed like the guards save for a red feather on her helmet suddenly addressed the seated one angrily.
“Are you going to let her go like that? She poisoned our water supply, burned our crops, and delivered a plague unto our houses!”
“She did?”
The seated catgirl raised an eyebrow.
“No, but are we just going to wait around until she does?!”
The seated cat rolled her eyes, waving for the guard to continue.
“She will do no harm. I will personally see to that if I have to.”
Camelon, Lexidus
Eleonora awoke with a gasp, clutching the blanket on her bed to her bare chest. Wait, bare? She looked down at herself in confusion. Hadn’t she worn a nightgown when she went to sleep? She rubbed her eyes and the nights memories slowly returned as she picked up a shirt from the floor and followed the trail of loose clothing out into the living room.
Things had… Escalated last night. She shuddered a little at the scratch and bite marks on the pillows of a large amount of her furniture and blushed at the sight of two empty cups smelling like alcohol and a single piece of rhubarb left on the kitchen counter. Things really escalated last night.
A cool breeze reminded her of the still open window, upon the pane of which she found a small pastry with a small paper heart perched on top. A strange encounter, but at least her headache was gone. She stared at the small holes in her tentacles as she munched on the gift. Well, at least it wasn’t the most noticeable mark left from yesterday night…
Mündungshafen, Titenfisca.
“Are you sure you’re going to push this?”
Katia paced back and forth across the living room carpet, intermittently staring at Helena with a worried expression.
“It was a personal request by Blair, Katia. I can’t not at least bring this up.”
Helena calmly took another sip from her still steaming cup of herbal tea, seated comfortably in a small armchair. Still, every time her eyes met Katias they were filled with concern.
“Alright. I’m just worried is all. Now more than ever there are those saying we should stay on our island and I’m inclined to believe them. It is not our business to involve ourselves in bloodshed.”
Katia finally sat down in the chair opposite her with a loud sigh and accusatory glare.
“I don’t like it either. I know we pay them to do it, but it still hurts my heart to send others into death like this. Regardless of what I think though, there will still have to be a grand meeting about this if we wish to marshal troops from the other constituents of the Republic. The Kobolds are steadfast allies and the Enekebe will at least agree to pay I’m sure.”
“Just promise you won’t get involved with those horrid beasts yourself.”
“I promise.”
Helena sighed, looking out through the window absentmindedly.
“I just wonder how poor Blair is doing…”
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Post by Au Minbo on Dec 20, 2018 12:26:31 GMT -5
King Hato VIII Omo, Hato City Wharf Crisp clear air smelling of the sea washed over the King's face. In front of him lay the greatest fleet the nation had ever compiled. A fleet even his ancestor, the first King of Kanso-Oromi would be proud of. Behind him he heard the common sounds of the harbor market, fishmongers peddling freshly caught seafood, the rustle of carts as they are wheeled by, and the occasional sounds of the butchers carving their wares down the street. Standing beside him were the members of the Magisterial, including their newest member after the disappearance of their elder member some time ago. His uncle, the Prince Otumi walked towards him after speaking with the commander of the harbor.
“Your Majesty, the Harbormaster tells me the fleet is prepared to set off. The ships are all provisioned and only await your order.” Prince Otumi said precisely. “I take it I cannot convince you to rethink this trip of yours? We have an admiralty for a reason.”
“Thank you uncle, but no. I feel a great awakening of our people, and I will see it come at the head of this fleet, not stuck here in the city.” The King smiled, thinking to himself how much his uncle must care for him to continue to extend such concern on multiple occasions.
Prince Hato Otumi, Hato City Wharf What a fucking idiot.
What kind of a King abandons his nation to set sail on some sort of pet project. ‘A great awakening’ my ass. He probably spent all this past week thinking that up.
Stepping forward, the King drew himself closer to Otumi for more privacy.
“Uncle, I must thank you for your concern. It truly means a lot to me that you care. I always imagined you as a surrogate since my father, your brother passed away. I miss him on days like these.”
Your father was a drunk who threw himself off the highest tower because a whore laughed at his piss poor attempt to take his own clothes off.
“I miss him too.”
“I think he would have been proud of what we aim to do today, and in the coming years.”
“I’m sure he would be sir.”
“No need to call me sir, uncle. Never a need for that with you” The King says quietly.
Looking at him for a moment, Prince Otumi smiles and bows to him.
“I wish you fair tides and a strong wind in your travels. May your passage be blessed by Decidius himself.” Otumi intoned, an old saying still used for departing crews on a long voyage. “Have you thought about how you will be able to communicate with these strange men your Majesty?”
Smirking, the King replied “I have a way uncle. The stones will guide me.”
And with that the King clasped Prince Otumi on the back, held him there for a moment, and departed for his flagship. Within an hour they were out of sight, headed west to go east.
Tipene Maata, Naga-tuo Island Tales of what happened in Tipene’s village had spread from there that day like the fire which had destroyed their harvest. A whole village had had their only hope of survival through a potentially tough winter in the mountains stolen from them. Protests had broken out in some of the other outlying villages and reports of deaths amongst the King’s men had been given to Tipene. Today Tipene was gathered with some of his followers in a village not unlike his own. Poor catgirls and boys worked the fields, laboring under the sun, only to pay their life's work to the King where it was never seen again. Not 4 meters away stood rows of wheat swaying gently in the breeze, but his task today lay behind him. Agents of the King had been captured and had to be dealt with.
“Two guards and a tax collector come to judgement today. You three benefit from the labor of our people, take our food, our wealth, the fur off our backs. Nothing can ever sate your, or your King’s, taste for more. What say you three to the charges laid against you? Will you stand by your King or will you admit your wrongdoings?” Tipene had never felt comfortable speaking to large groups, but as the protests grew and moved on he grew into his position and had begun to feel more at ease with these people, his brothers and sisters in this new day for his people.
The tax collector, another cat, a proud male that Tipene had known well in his past profession spoke first.
“Tipene, you surely can’t be serious? You and I, we both worked for the King! We both did as we were told. Do you really think killing us will do anything anyways?” He was scared. Tipene can tell these things.
“No friend, killing you three is simply justice. Now I will ask again, do you admit your wrongdoings, or do you stand by the King?”
This time it was the guard, a catgirl, who spoke.
“I confess, I did these things that you claim and more. I did my duty as the guard for this village, I kept the peace and enforced the King’s law. I confess to all these that you have accused us of, but do not for a second believe that I regret any of them. What we did was right and legal, you are the one who steals from our people, Tipene.”
Smiling for a moment, Tipene looked at the tax collector once more.
“This one has the bravery to admit these things, what of you ‘friend?’” he said.
“Fine! I admit it. I stole from our people. I stole for the King and all of his men. I am the criminal you accuse me to be.” He had begun to cry at this. A weak creature fit only to take orders, now coming to terms with the vile things he did for his masters.
“You have admitted your guilt before us. The crimes you have committed shall be forever known to all, but you shall not be executed today. Instead you shall be let go with the promise that you not oppose us, nor ever commit this level of treason against your people ever again. I, Tipene Maata, free you from your chains and release you to society.”
With that the two were let free. The tax collector, bubbling, ran off for his home where no doubt he began to pack his belongings to find a new home. The guard looked at Tipene a moment, scowled at him, and left. Tipene’s assistant, a catgirl from his village came to him now.
“Tipene, what of this one?” she asked, indicating the last guard.
“The man?” Tipene said, “We have no use for filth. Remove him.”
King Hato VIII Omo, Off the coast of Naga-tuo Island The sea had always beckoned the King. From a young age he had joined with the navy and participated in expeditions around the nation, and the ruins of their ancestral homelands. Now he has the opportunity to do something he had always wanted to do: Command a fleet of his own. He was dressed in a uniform befitting that of a Captain, the only indication of rank being to gold circlet sitting on his head. The fleet was on course and making good progress. A day or so more and they would round the bend in the north and begin heading back eastward.
Looking east he could make out in the distance the capital and largest city the Naga province. He had always felt uncomfortable with the cats, they were a warrior people originally but with the armies of man marching west from Oromi they suffered defeat after defeat. The killing blow came when mass conversions began amongst their people in accepting Decidius over their pagan god. With that event they had become more pliable, enough to be finally subjugated by his great-grandfather more than a hundred years past.
Sighing, the king returned his gaze to the charts he had been studying earlier.
Prince-Regent Hato Otumi, Omo-Touo Castle The Prince-Regent sat on his throne, smaller and located in front of the throne of the King. Today was a petition day where locals came to him, or the King as they would normally. The day had been slow and quite boring. The petty issues of the peasantry should be dealt with on the provincial level he thought, he had greater things to do.
The Governor of the Hato Province, where the capital city was located, approached him next. He also served as an informal member of the admiralty, even though he had not served in near a decade.
“Your Grace,” the Governor bowed, “I have here a report for you from the admiralty sir. They report that a series of revolts have sprung up on the island of Naga-tuo. It seems the cats have begun harassing royal officials on the island, there also appear to be indications of granaries being burnt down.”
Thinking for a moment, Otumi began. “These reports sound more like stories to me. The cats are a subservient people. They would never do these things, and even if they did what should we care? Let them starve themselves this winter for all I care.”
“Yes sir, I would think the same. The cats can barely tend to their own farms as it is without our supervision. What would you like me to do sir?”
“Put it on my desk, I’ll deal with it later. Was there anything else?”
“No sir, that was all they asked me to deliver.”
Looking at the young man Otumi could only think about how much he looked like his grandfather. The same slender face adorned with a short beard. Close cut dark hair and dark as night eyes. His son looked very much the part of what a royal should.
“Before you go, I have drafted this letter I want sent out to all members of the nobility. Can you see to this for me?” he asked.
“Of course father, I will do so immediately.” Bowing once more, the Governor left the throne room, taking the letter to have it copied and sent out.
King Hato VIII Omo, Near “Savage” Island Before the fleet laid an island, and with that island were those strange people he had received all these reports about. Looking through his spyglass he could faintly make out movement amongst their ships. Looking forward he motioned for a sailor to come to him.
“Sailor,” he said, “I want you to go and raise the royal standard. It is time to announce ourselves to whomever these people are.”
“Aye sire, raise the standard.” With that the sailor raised the royal standard, the same as the flag of his people but with the white circlet replaced with one of gold.
Alone now, the King mumbled to himself, “Let’s just hope they are friendly enough.”
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Post by Chiernarosa on Dec 21, 2018 20:02:46 GMT -5
Quijain, Day 4
"Ya Mulej glorioso, patre ta 'l-ilpup, Hu dakli renjati fis-sema en çielo, fezist li qatlu l-allat u l-maltempati, li kalmaw il-baħar. Jien, tefal tal-Irmied, nemmen fir rieda u l-qawwa kohlla ta' jelontad," ("O glorious Lord, Father of the Wolves, He who reigns above in the skies. You, who slew the gods and brought light to the storms, who calmed the seas. I, Child of the Ashes, hereby believe in Thy will.") the Shaman chanted as the armies marched through the steppes. The climb from the forested slopes of Quijain's shoreline was arduous, hauling the provisions and supplies by hand and by horse. Kalċidon had watched as a civil auxiliary from the 13th Black Guards Regiment approached one of the slopes and noted hoofprints, his animated response one of surprise for Kalċidon, Erin, and the Phylakitai that accompanied them.
"You, dear sir, come here," Kalċidon had ordered as the man brought himself to one knee, his prostration met with a wave of the hand, "We are equals, here: cease with the honoring, please. I noticed your response: is there something you might have knowledge of?" The man nodded, "Yes, Chancellor: my son, Żaren, he fled from home several days ago - from what I heard in Talas, he took a trip with a fishing vessel, paid them to head to Quijain before we disembarked - he couldn't be too far ahead of us." Kalċidon stroked his beard as he digested the information, "I sense that you are of honor, no?" The man nodded again, this time pulling his sack from his shoulder and opening it, pulling out a small box with a worn scroll over it, "My assistant from home, Nikola, he insisted that I bring this before I left: it is a Ċinturin, granted to my father by the 574th Falanx following the War of the Grey Ravens for meritious service."
Kalċidon cocked his head, "A Ċinturin is valued and should grant you tenure, yet you look like a farmer. Why is that?" The man simply stated, "The Falanx granted my father and I an apartment in Xanakht, but after my wife, Katarina, died 0.5 years ago, I took Żaren and, by extension, Nikola from there to the outskirts of Velran: after the Ten'saii War, I was granted a deed by the local Governor to establish a farm near the Belt Road leading to Ronan: I was to help establish a town with the 9th Guards, but the order came and Żaren left in the interim." Kalċidon simply nodded, "I am aware of loss such as yours, sir ...?" "Kyre, sir, Kyre Iben-ta'Redentur." "Like I said, I am aware of your loss, Kyre: my wife, Konċetta - she had left me years before and ultimately left this world not long ago." Behind them, Erin had scoffed quietly, simply pulling the reins and directing the 9th Guards to pull ahead.
That was 4 days ago. Now, the 13th Black Guards were leading the march along with the 1st Kotek, 1st Republican Guards, 3rd Phylakes, and the 9th Guards Regiment, while the 1st Guards marched behind them: Kalċidon had directed for Kyre and Varist to ride besides him, while Erin rode forward, passing by the Shaman who continued with his chant. "Sir, I hate to ask, but what exactly is that language the Shaman is intoning?" Varist inquired, pulling the reins to slow the horse down slightly. "Ah, that," Kalċidon stated, "That is a predecessor language to Ilsien tal-Gwerra: a couple of words and some of the structure are different, but it is mostly the same to the modern language, though it is still separated far enough from Limba Centrală for the two to be mutually unintelligible." "Never really bothered to learn Limba," Kyre admitted, "Ilsien and Common are the only languages I can really speak in, though my Pa did teach me a little bit in Kotek." "How so?" Kalċidon asked, looking at the Ċinturin now wrapped from Kyre's shoulder to his waist, "He served with them during the Battle for the Tidfadl, taking some of the roads the Grey Ravens occupied to allow for supplies to reach the fight: they ended up giving my family a khachkar in his honor after he passed."
"Sir Kyre," Erin stated as he rode towards them, pulling to his side, "Members of the Alpha-Omega attached to my unit found some tracks: there's something else they recovered, you might want to take a look. The three men nodded, their horses now trotting to the front where an Alpha-Omega soldier was kneeling, looking at the tracks: standing up, he asked, "Which one of you is Kyre?" "I am," Kyre said as he jumped off the saddle, only to notice red on the ground, alongside an arrow, "Oh no." The soldier simply nodded, "From the looks of it, your boy must've run into a tribe here and they attacked him: judging from the amount and the spray of blood, he wasn't the only one hit - looks like the horse was shot as they fled, there's some more blood about a quarter of a mile ahead, and it looks like it kept going for several more miles until the bleeding stopped. We'll keep looking, but I suggest for all of you to camp here for the night: it's starting to get dark again." Kalċidon nodded, "Noted: Erin, send word for everyone to stop for the night." Erin nodded, riding to meet the other commanders. Kalċidon looked at Kyre, "We'll find your son, Kyre: he can't have gone too far, and I doubt anyone is insane enough to ride in the night." Kyre simple nodded, "Understood, Chancellor, but knowing my boy he might be willing to risk that."
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Dec 22, 2018 22:41:31 GMT -5
High Admiral Hunter Macleish, Savage Island Port - Dominion of the South East Caldives
"Who on earth are they?" muttered Ruby Hollins as she stood by Hunter's side, peering through a spyglass of her own.
"Between you and me Miss Hollins? I've not the faintest clue and that concerns me greatly." The young admiral continued to scan the fleet on the horizon, watching its various ships raise their flags and standards. Despite his humble yet thorough education at the Naval University of Redan, he truly did not recognise the purple flag with a black circlet. The ships were of an unusual and explicitly foreign design, he knew them all, from northern Titenfiscan cogs to eastern Veritious carracks.
"Judging by the fact they just unfurled what appears to be a royal standard... I think they're friendly." Ruby muttered, her spyglass clicking as she turned it.
Lowering his own, Hunter stormed his way to the quarterdeck, Ruby following him shortly after. He motioned for his crew to undock and set sail. He called out loud and clear to his crew and those on port. "All hands, form the fleet behind the Fury and follow my lead! This might be a first contact situation, keep your cannons ready but keep your gun ports CLOSED."
With haste, the capitol ship and crown jewel of the Lexidun Navy left the port. Shortly followed by other ships which followed behind in a row of triangle positions. The first mate on the Yola's Fury bellowed to raise the royal standard and the flag of the Empire of Lexidus. Returning the gesture to the foreign ship and hopefully signalling to them that their capitol ships would come side-by-side for contact with one another.
Ruby Hollins, taking further glances through her spyglass, stood to the right of Hunter as he steered his ship personally. "I don't suppose you've done this sort of thing before haven't you?"
He gave a sharp singular laugh. "Believe it or not Miss Hollins, this'll be my second time making contact with a foreign power on behalf of the crown in a couple of months!"
Donn Myra, Central Courtyard - Camelon Castle
She found the king, sitting alone on a bench, staring into space. He wasn't wearing his crown or even any robes befitting of a man of his position. Instead he sat there with a dull gray tunic and trousers, his feet bare. Circling around she faced him, placing her hands behind her back and giving a deep bow. He seemed to snap back into reality and coughed, giving her a curt nod. His messy brown hair bobbing as he did so.
"Hail. My king." She stated bluntly, standing to attention and focusing her gaze exclusively on him unwavering. She found the sight of such an unkempt royal in front of her... unusual. Her former liege was always dressed in a fine robe and was well groomed, well, about as well groomed anyone could be whilst hiding between the undercities.
"Ah Myra. Sorry, I was just a wee bit out of it just them." He smiled. She could recognised any sort of sad smile. "We've not had much time to talk since your reunion with Leanabh. Now's a good time as any I suppose." He began to bring his gaze away from her and slightly to her right, she could see his eyes widen somewhat before quickly darting back to her and standing up, hiding behind another sad smile."
"Aye my king. I feel as if I never made clear my intentions following the safe transferal of the princess to your care. I aim to clear up my standing."
Blair looked at the Donn with confusion initially before nodding to himself. "Ah yes. Well, seeing as you fulfilled your duty, I say you're free to do as you please."
Myra shuffled her feet slightly, not breaking her unwavering gaze from her king. "I wish to continue serving as Princess Leanabh Yola Lexidus' Donn. As well become yours."
"...become my Donn?" Myra nodded at the king, who had lowered himself back into the bench, rubbing his hands together absentmindedly as he did so. "The Donn were disbanded hundreds of years ago after the Unification of the country Myra. What was taught to you and your kind down there with the old king, is centuries of years out of date."
"I'm aware of that my king."
"The world up here is much different compared to the lawlessness of the undercity passages. No monsters lurking around every corner waiting to eat you alive." He brought his head down. "No old forgotten king somehow alive after centuries, kidnapping people and lost travellers from the surface with his followers and creating a commune in the vast untold depths of the underworld."
Donn Myra furrowed her brow at Blair. He rose his head and sighed.
"Leana told me what she could remember of her life down there. How Petre had a small following of people underground, mostly women."
He met her gaze, his expression had turned solemn and his eyes were serious. "It doesn't take a genius to know what he did. What he forced to have various generations of people born underground and loyal to him."
The Donn kept her brow furrowed and her eyes locked with her king. She felt restless.
"Whatever he did to your ancestors, what life he forced upon you... I will not do to you." She watched as his gaze became distant and faraway. "I'm no monster."
Myra unfurled her hands from her back and knelt down on one knee, softening her brow. She broke her stare and let her eyes wander. "...I was born 29 years ago. To an unknown mother and father. All my life I was raised in the dark with my liege, him and his wives kept me fed and watered. They taught and trained me. The Donn and Dubh requesting that I joined their ranks, my own choice when I became of age. Sure we were a commune but we were more of a family. I was not forced into serving my king and I assure you. He was no monster. The real monsters were the Yrutan hordes that slowly made their presence more known in the underworld." Myra scanned the sky above her, breathing in deep and hard. Before letting out a sigh. "My family started to die, our home besieged by the Yrutan hordes and we were forced to flee. In the chaos, it was just me, Leana and Petre who managed to escape. Or so I thought."
She brought her eyes back to her king, who was paying close attention to her, his eyes clear and focused. "The Dubh, the king's spies, believe that I slayed the king and kidnapped the princess, they believe she is the sole and rightful heir the crown and that the de Brus lineage is forfeit. They wander this nation looking for her and will surely put you and the girl in danger. I cannot allow this." Drawing her sword, she presented it to Blair, bowing her head as she continued to kneel before him. "If you will not allow me to serve as your Donn, allow me to be your protector instead."
Blair de Brus, paused a moment and stared at the blade. It felt like an eternity passed before he took it from her, before he stood up and placed the tip of the blade on her shoulder.
"If that is your wish. Then who am I to deny you such a role?" He brought the blade gentle on her left shoulder before moving it to her right. "Arise, Sir Myra, the Royal Protector."
Myra rose and gave a modest smile, taking back her sword. He smiled back, his eyes creasing in the corners. She recognised this smile, it wasn't sad.
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Post by Au Minbo on Dec 23, 2018 17:31:05 GMT -5
King Hato VIII Omo, Near “Savage” Island
(All italicized speech in this post is to be considered to be spoken in the Oromi tongue.)
After seeing these strange ships raise their own standard and begin coming towards our fleet, the flagship bearing the King now lay directly across from the presumed flagship of the strangers fleet. As the ships began to settle in the water next to one another a board was thrown across which more resembled a bridge than a simple plank.
Looking across, the King noticed two people coming toward the crossing. A man and a woman who looked of equal standing to one another. Both held their heads high, and for that the King was impressed. The King remained in his uniform and now had donned the golden circlet denoting his rank. He stood proud, yet noticed that even the woman across from him stood taller than he, which surprised him. His dark hair had grown to near shoulder length and his beard had filled in along the voyage this far. He began to walk towards the board and the crew bowed as he passed. Simultaneously his crier began announcing him to the strange people
“Behold his Golden Majesty, King Hato Omo, Eighth King of his Clan. King of-”
Cutting him off the King began, “More than likely these people cannot understand you. No need to go through the trouble just for us to understand.”
Looking back towards the man and woman the King began to speak in a language his men could barely understand, yet somehow recognized bits and pieces of.
“I am King Hato Omo of the Kingdom of Kanso-Oromi. I come to you today in friendship to your people and wish to open relations with you.”
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Post by Percyton on Dec 24, 2018 1:03:49 GMT -5
Royal Mustering Grounds, Peel Godred, Dual Kingdom of the Isles King Godred
“I don’t know what I’ve been told!”
“I don’t know what I’ve been told!”
“Sound off!”
“Sound off!”
King Godred smiled as he looked at his army. His 25,000-strong force was rapidly coming together, with mobilization being quick thanks to the army having been called up a mere month before to deal with Count Philip’s Rebellion. While the troops trained and drilled in the mustering field near the Royal Castle, Godred and his chief general and stepbrother Ogmund watched from their seats on a raised platform at the edge of the field.
“Everything seems in order,” Godred remarked.
“Indeed,” Ogmund agreed. He turned toward his brother. “Although, I’ve been meaning to ask you, why haven’t you called up the Royal Guards for training?”
“They’re not coming,” Godred replied, not looking away from the military drills. “I’m keeping them here to protect Queen Helga and the royal court.”
Ogmund was shocked at this, and feared for his sibling without a dedicated bodyguard unit. But, he tried to keep his cool. “Your Majesty, are you sure that’s wise? You need some people whose only mission is to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” the King insisted. “I have my army, that’ll be enough. And a guard unit would only hold me back and try to keep me away from the fighting, when I want this to be my chance to shine and win glory.”
Ogmund thought. There was a moment of silence. Then, the general spoke again. “I think I have something that’ll change your mind.”
.......
Ogmund led his brother into the castle, to Ogmund’s study. “You remember when we sent that expedition to colonize Western Island?” Ogmund asked. “The one that founded Tidmouth?”
“Yes,” Godred responded. “What of it?”
“I received a letter from the governor there recently.” Ogmund dug through the haphazardly papers scattered on his desk, until he found what he was looking for and handed it to Godred. “Most of it was the usual stuff about how well the colony is developing, but he also mentioned something else…”
Godred read over the message. “Something else indeed,” he remarked in surprise. “This is very romantic for a governor’s report, Ogmund. Or should I call you ‘Oggie Bear’ now?”
Ogmund hastily grabbed the letter back, ripping it from Godred’s hands. “Sorry, brother. You weren’t supposed to see that.” Ogmund threw the message back on the desk and picked up a different one. “This is it. Governor Aslac reported finding a race of natives on the island, called the Dwarf Locomati. As the name implies, they’re just like our Locomati, only significantly shorter.”
Godred looked over the letter. “I can see that,” he said. “Left over from a Locomati colonization attempt centuries ago, according to this.”
Ogmund nodded in affirmation. “The natives have been friendly and cooperative so far, and we’ve signed an agreement with their leader Duke. Duke is a skilled warrior from what we’ve heard, and he also has 6 other warrior who are equally skilled. Perhaps Duke and his warriors are the answer to your bodyguard situation?”
Godred looked at his brother in confusion. “You want me to go to the Magna Tabes with seven dwarves protecting me? Sounds more like some folklore tale told to children than an actual suggestion.”
“If what Duke and the Governor are saying is true, these dwarves are skilled fighters, so not only would they be valuable additions to the army, but they’re small enough so they can still protect you without you feeling trapped by them. They’d fight alongside you instead of trying to keep you away from the fighting.” Ogmund paused. “So, are you interested?”
Godred rubbed his beard in thought.
Cros-ny-Cuirn, Western Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles King Godred
King Godred, Ogmund, and a small retinue sailed east, toward the newly established colony on Western Island. After meeting up Governor Aslac at the colonial capital of Tidmouth, the group journeyed into the island’s interior to Cros-ny-Cuirn, the main village and capital of the Dwarf Locomati.
As the group went down the dirt road leading to the village, they heard hollering and chants in some strange language. “It sounds like a variant of the Old Locomati language,” a Locomati retainer explained, “but the Dwarf Locomati must have changed it since they got here. I can only make out half of what they’re saying.” The chants grew louder and louder, with the group now able to make out a drum-based accompaniment, until at last they saw the entrance to the village. In the village center was a roaring fireplace, and they saw diminutive Locomati men and women – each no more than 4 and a half feet tall – dancing and shouting at the sky. The men were either shirtless or had on a thin cloak in addition to their short pants, while the women were dressed in either skirts and shirts or long dresses. Sitting directly behind the fire, surrounded by his warriors, was Duke, the tallest one of them all (which admittedly wasn’t saying much). The visiting delegation, not wanting to interrupt this strange ceremony while the dancers were in such a crazed state, waited a couple feet away for the ceremony to end, or at least slow down. The delegates looked at each other nervously, but no one said a word.
After a few minutes, the drummers stopped drumming, and the dancers stopped dancing. One of the dancers then spotted the delegates. “Well, what do we have here?” he said suspiciously. The dancer gave the delegates a hostile look. “Outsiders it seems. Duke! You might want to take a look at this!” Duke got up from his seat and walked around the fire, until he was standing in front of the visitors. He looked them up and down, then turned to the dancer.
“Stand down, Freddie,” Duke said. “It’s only Governor Aslac. And it seems like he brought King Godred and General Ogmund with him.” Duke correctly determined who the King was among them, and extended his hand toward Godred. “Aslac told me you’d be coming. Welcome to our island!” Godred hesitated at first, confused that someone who should be Godred’s inferior was offering a handshake instead of a bow, but nevertheless reciprocated the gesture.
“Thank you, Duke,” Godred replied. “I like it very much. The colony is coming along well.” Freddie grunted at this remark. “And your village is very… interesting.”
Duke chuckled. “You must have caught the end of our little ceremony. Don’t worry, it’s nothing threatening. It’s actually a ceremony of celebration. Specifically, we’re marking the birth of the god Rigma.”
“Rigma?” Godred questioned. “You still follow him?”
“Of course we do,” Duke answered, with a look that showed he didn’t understand King Godred’s confusion. “Rigma is the god of the Locomati people, and always shall be!”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Godred had neither the heart nor the time to tell Duke of the original Locomati’s conversion to Myratnis.
“So,” Duke went on, clapping his hands together, “Governor Aslac said you had a mission for me and my warriors.”
“Indeed,” Ogmund answered. “Can we speak to you and the warriors about it in a more… private setting?”
“Of course!” Duke replied. “We can talk in my home. Follow me.” Duke beckoned for his six fellow warriors to follow him, and they all followed Duke until they reached a long hut made out of cloth and tree bark. Inside there were backless benches along the walls, with an unlit fire pit in the center. At the end of the long hall was a curtain covering the last third of the hut. “This is the biggest house in our village,” Duke explained, “as I use it as both my residence and as a conference area for tribal councils. Behind the curtain is my bedroom. We can sit around the fire pit.” They all sat around the central pit. Duke and his warriors sat cross-legged on the floor, while the visitors either sat up on the ground on the other side of the pit, or sat on the nearby benches with Godred and Ogmund.
“First off,” began Duke, “Sorry about Freddie back there. We call him ‘Fearless Freddie’. He really is brave, but sometimes his bravery leads him to jump to conclusions and think everyone and everything is a threat. Anyway, I believe introductions are in order. These are my warriors.” Duke pointed to each of them as he introduced them. “This is my second-in-command Skarloey. Next to him is our magic expert Rheneas, our archer Peter Sam, our strategist Sir Handel, our swordsman Duncan, and finally our muscle Rusty.” Each of the warriors could be distinguished by a colored sash they wore around their shoulder: Duke’s sash was brown, Skarloey’s was red, Rheneas’ was orange, Peter Sam’s was dark green, Sir Handel’s was dark blue, Duncan’s was yellow, and Rusty’s was grey.
"A pleasure to meet you all," Godred responded. "And you’ll be pleased to know I have a job for all of you.”
“So the Governor told me,” said Duke. “Although you haven’t yet told me the nature of this ‘job’.”
“I will cut to the chase then: I want you and your warriors to serve as my bodyguard unit while I’m leading my army into the Magna Tabes.”
Duke was taken aback. He turned to Skarloey and Sir Handel, who were sitting on his right and left respectively, and whispered to them. Godred couldn’t make out everything, but thought he heard whispers of “Did I hear that right?” and “Did he just say the Magna Tabes?”
“My apologies,” Duke said after a few moments, “but to clarify, you want us to serve as your bodyguard unit for an expedition to the Magna Tabes?”
“Exactly!” Godred affirmed. “To give some more background, the dark god Yrutas has been growing in strength and causing mayhem around the world, and his supporters are trying to undermine the Dual Kingdom as we speak. King Blair of Lexidus called for an expedition of world leaders to journey to the Magna Tabes to defeat Yrutas in person, and I intend to be part of it.”
Duke stared at the King of the Isles in bafflement. “But, the Tabes are an inhospitable wasteland. Plus, they can corrupt a person and drive him mad; no one has returned from there sane!”
“Only because Yrutas’ power drives them insane. We’re going to put an end to that.”
“But fighting a god? Do you realize how dangerous that is?”
“We’ll have numbers on our side.”
Duke shook his head and looked mournfully at Godred. “I fear you’re signing up for a death sentence, my friend,” Duke said ominously. “One we can’t be a part of.”
“Duke, please!” Godred insisted as clasped his hands together and leaned toward the Dwarf Locomati leader. “You’re our best option for a guard unit! Your warriors are legendary from what I’ve heard, and you are the bravest and most skilled of them all!"
Duke blushed and turned away. “Well, I think that’s an exaggeration.”
“He’s right, Duke,” Peter Sam interjected. “You are very brave! Didn’t you tell us about that time you defeated the two-faced giant Mighty Mac?”
“Well,” Ogmund commented, “it’s good you were able to defeat such a duplicitous person Duke, but that’s not the kind of skillset we’re looking for.”
“Duplicitous?” Duke repeated as he looked at Ogmund. “No no, he actually had two faces: one on the front of his head, one on the back. Supposedly his front face was Mighty and his back face was Mac, but they acted like one creature. Ghastly beast, and he used to take our sheep and cattle and eat them in his cave hideout. Luckily I defeated him: With my trusty sword Gertrude, I infiltrated Mighty Mac's cave, battled the fierce beast with everything I had, and when I saw an opening, I sliced off Mighty Mac’s famous head. It fell with a thud, and I then buried it deep underground.”
“Why did you bury it?” Godred asked.
“I didn’t know what that head could do! If it was cursed or had some dark power associated with it, I wanted it to be kept as far away from me and other people as possible.”
Duncan turned around and whispered to the delegates sitting on the bench. “Duke tells us this story aw th' time,” he said in an inexplicable Lexidun accent. “He's gone a wee bit loopy at his age, sae we're ne'er sure if it actually happened or if he's just tellin' a tall tale.”
“Age or not,” Rusty quietly chided, “he’s still a great warrior, and he deserves respect.” Duncan just rolled his eyes and looked away.
While Duncan and Rusty were talking, Duke was silently thinking things over. He whispered with Skarloey and Sir Handel. Duke and Sir Handel nodded at each other, while Skarloey, with much concern on his face, shook his head. Despite this dissenting vote, Duke turned back to the delegates with his decision. “I’ve made my decision: My warriors and I will accompany King Godred to the Magna Tabes. We are at your service, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, thank you Duke!” Godred cried. He got up to shake Duke’s hand, but then remembering the Dwarf Locomati’s height, got on one knee and shook Duke’s hand. “I’m extremely grateful for your help. But who will run your tribe in your absence?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Duke assured as he patted Godred on the shoulder. “Millie will take care of things. She’s our unofficial village mother, and we all trust her to look after the tribe. I just need to make final arrangements and we’ll be set to go.”
“Thank you again, Duke! I knew I could count on you!”
Godred and the delegates stood up to leave, satisfied with their meeting. “By the way,” Ogmund said as he was about to depart, “we’ve called you Duke this whole time, but what exactly is your formal title? What area are you Duke of?”
“Title?” Duke questioned. “I’m not Duke of anything. Duke is just what everyone calls me. I’m just… Duke.”
“Huh.” Ogmund scratched his head. “You and your people have some very odd customs.”
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Post by Percyton on Dec 24, 2018 1:24:25 GMT -5
Vicarstown Castle, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Burnett Stone and Lady
The Chief Driver and his companion waited patiently outside the throne room door of Vicarstown Castle. They sat on a bench in grand hallway, Burnett impatiently tapping his foot, while Lady hummed a tune to herself.
“They told us the governor would see us in a moment,” Burnett complained. “It’s been half an hour now. What’s the hold-up?”
“Be patient, Burnett,” Lady soothed. “I’m sure Governor Bo’Conius is very busy. He doesn’t exactly have an easy job, trying to integrate the Northern Locomati Island into the Dual Kingdom and ensuring there are no future revolts.”
“I’m aware of that, but surely he has time to receive us when we arrive?” Just then, the throne room door creaked open, and a herald came up to the waiting visitors.
“The governor will see you now,” the herald announced. Burnett and Lady followed the herald into the throne room. The throne room looked to be under-construction due to the scaffolding and tools around the walls. The plainness of the room did not help matters, as there were almost no decorations and only a few pieces of furniture. There were large white spaces scattered around the walls, indicating mosaics or murals had recently been removed from those spots. The group approached the unadorned throne, where the island’s military governor Metrovickus Bo’Conius was sitting.
“Sir,” the herald said, “may I introduce to you Chief Driver Burnett Stone and his companion Lady.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency,” Burnett began as he and Lady kneeled before the governor.
“There’s no need to kneel,” Bo’Conius reprimanded. “I’m a general, not royalty.” The governor extended his hand, and after arising, Burnett and Lady shook his hand in turn.
“My apologies, sir,” Burnett replied. “I didn’t realize.”
“Not a problem. Pardon the work in here. Even in his short time occupying Vicarstown, Diesalion commissioned a redecoration of the castle to make it fancier and to add murals and stained glass depicting himself and Count Philip. Thankfully almost none of them were finished, and we’re just about done removing those monstrosities.”
“That is good to hear, general,” Lady responded.
“But,” Bo’Conius went on, “we need to get down to business. King Godred already wrote to me about you two. Mentioned helping me take down the Order of BR.”
“That is correct,” Burnett affirmed.
“Well then I’m glad you’re here. You came at just the right time. Getting information on them has been tough, but I think we finally made a breakthrough.” Bo’Conius rose from his throne and walked over to a table on the other side of the room, beckoning for Burnett and Lady to follow. On the table they saw various parchments and scrolls scattered around the table.
“There are all the reports we’ve compiled on the Order of BR,” Bo’Conius explained. “What we know about their ideology, their goals, their leadership. What we’re missing are their methods and their meeting places. That’s where you two come in.” Bo’Conius pulled out a scroll from the mess and handed it to Burnett Stone. “We sent in one of our agent to pose as a prospective member of the Order, and an agent of the Order gave this to him. In addition to vague language promoting the organization, an address and time for a meeting is given.”
“This is very good news,” Burnett replied. “I expect you want us to infiltrate the meeting.”
“Not just you two. The agent I mentioned is coming along.”
Burnett felt insulted. He was sure he and Lady could do fine on their own. Did Bo’Conius not trust them? “I appreciate the gesture, sir, but we can handle ourselves.”
“I insist,” Bo’Conius replied. “This paper was meant for our agent only, so the Order might get suspicious if the agent isn’t there. Besides, he can help with protection in case things go wrong.”
Burnett sighed. “Alright then, I guess we have no choice. Who is the agent?”
“He’s here now. Come on out here, Vulcan!” At this, tall figure in a dark blue coat and dark blonde hair stepped out of a back door into the throne room. He approached Burnett and Lady and shook their hands.
“Agent 125, or Vulcan for short, at your service,” the man said, his tone formal and somewhat haughty.
Lady and Burnett were impressed. “That’s an interesting name, Vulcan,” Lady remarked. “Is it your real name?”
“No, no,” Vulcan replied. “I wish it was. It’s only a codename.”
“So if you’re Agent 125,” Burnett asked, “does that mean there are 124 other agents like you?”
“If only,” Bo’Conius interjected, putting a hand on Vulcan’s shoulder. “The numbers are arbitrary, and we intentionally use larger numbers to make our intelligence operation seem bigger than it actually is. In reality, ours is a lean and mean operation, with a little under 10 agents.”
“And not to brag,” Vulcan added, “but I’m one of the best.”
Lady rolled her eyes. “With an attitude like that, I’m sure you are.” She gave off a sarcastic tone as she said this, but Vulcan seemed to not realize that, as he went on bragging.
“Quite right. It’s all about having the right attitude. Being sure of yourself and displaying confidence can get you a long way, let me tell you.”
“But first,” Bo’Conius interrupted, giving out a slight chuckle, “let me tell you all how this mission will go down.”
Grand Ducal Castle, Ballahoo, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Grand Duke Thomas
The rays of sunlight streamed into the window of Grand Duke Thomas’ bedroom as dawn broke. The Locomati leader stared at the ceiling as he laid in bed. He was shirtless with trouser undergarments on, although sheets covered him from the waist down. Laying on the Grand Duke’s body was his political adviser Nia, wearing only a chemise and also covered by sheets from the waist down. The tired adviser fluttered her eyes open and looked at the already-awake Thomas.
“Good morning, handsome,” Nia said with a smile. “You’re up early. Especially since we were so… busy last night.”
“I woke up a couple hours ago and couldn’t get back to sleep,” Thomas explained. “This note was left for me after we fell asleep, and I’ve been thinking it over ever since I got up.” Thomas grabbed the message from off the nightstand next to him and passed it to Nia. “Oh, and good morning beautiful.”
Nia sat up and looked over the letter, scrutinizing it carefully. “So King Godred is sending troops to the Tabes along with the other world leaders,” she confirmed. “And they want to defeat Yrutas in-person. Very interesting idea. Dangerous, too. Though I am surprised he didn’t invite you to help.”
“Exactly!” Thomas replied. “For a mission as important as this, you would think he would invite me to join him or at least contribute troops. Instead he’s just informing of what he’s going to do and telling me my help isn’t necessary.”
Nia nodded knowingly. “I see where this is going. He’s jealous.”
“Jealous?” Thomas asked, quite shocked at this news. “Why would he be jealous of me? Godred is the ruler of the whole kingdom, and superior to me in terms of rank.”
“I remember you telling me about the revolt with Count Philip and Diesalion…” Nia began.
“And because I defeated it before Godred’s armies even got there, you think he’s jealous of me for that?” Thomas finished.
Nia nodded. “It was a pretty big accomplishment, and it’s not like Godred has done anything comparable recently.”
“Not true! He helped the recovery after that earthquake!”
Nia shook her head. “I don’t think that’s equivalent.”
The Grand Duke rubbed his chin. “Well, jealousy or not, I can’t be left out of this! I shall dispatch 6,000 men to join Godred’s army!” Thomas got out of bed and began to get dressed, grabbing his day clothes out of the drawers.
Nia leaned over the bed toward Thomas and continued speaking. “And who will you send to command this Locomati force? Gordon is needed at home in case of another uprising, so who else?”
“You’re right,” Thomas responded as he buttoned up his white shirt. “You’re the adviser, who do you think would be a good fit?”
The wheel began turning in Nia’s brain as she thought aloud. “Well, it should be someone at least fairly competent of course, but this could be an opportunity. I think it should be someone who is dependable, but who you wouldn’t mind sending away for a while. Someone who isn’t an outright threat to you, but also someone you’d like to get out of your hair.”
An idea struck the Grand Duke. “I know just the person.”
Later that day…
Now fully dressed, Grand Duke Thomas sat on his throne in the empty throne room. The guards standing outside opened the large double doors of the room, and a surprised and slightly-nervous James of Lanksharn stepped into the room. The bright red-clad nobleman approached the throne and bowed before Thomas.
“You… wanted to see me, Your Highness?” James asked hesitantly.
“Yes indeed, James,” Thomas replied.
“If this is about Henry of Ballahoo Ridge’s stolen sheep, I swear I had nothing to –“ Thomas cut off the frantic nobleman.
“Relax, James. It’s not about that. It’s actually something good.”
James perked up. “Oh? And what would that be, Your Highness?”
“I understand you’ve been wanting a military command for a while now.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” James affirmed. “I would have volunteered during Count Philip’s Rebellion, but it was defeated before my help was needed.”
“Well, it’s needed now.” Thomas stood up and looked down on James. “I just received word that King Godred is raising an army to march to the Tabes, join up with the other world leaders, and defeat Yrutas. We weren’t invited to this little get-together, but I’m sending an army to join them anyway, and you will be leading it!”
James smiled broadly and his face lit up as he looked at Grand Duke Thomas. “Oh Your Highness, this is… this is… amazing!” Unable to hold in his excitement anymore, James jumped up and forcefully hugged Thomas. “This is more than I ever dreamed of! Thank you thank you thank you!”
“Easy there, James,” Thomas replied with a chuckle. “Hold me any longer and I’ll have to get the guards to pull you off.”
“Oh, sorry.” James backed off the Grand Duke. “I accept, Your Highness! When do I start?”
“First thing’s first. Servant!” At this, a male servant brought over a red scepter with a bejeweled purple ball on top of it. James knew what this meant. He got down on one knee and put his head down. Thomas touched the scepter first to James’ right shoulder, then his left. “I now proclaim you Sir James of Lanksharn, general of the Locomati Expeditionary Force Against Yrutas.”
“A knighthood too!?!” James beamed. “This is the greatest day ever!”
“Arise, Sir James,” Thomas commanded. “We’ll need to rapidly mobilize the army if we want to catch up to Godred, so be quick now!”
“Yes, Your Highness!” James exclaimed as he got up. “Sir James is at your service!”
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Post by Unfallious on Dec 29, 2018 13:12:59 GMT -5
Somewhere in the Barren Lands
The air was quiet, and the land was flat. For as far as the eye could see, there was nothing. No animals, and no plants. The only water they had come across since entering these lands had been contaminated by a mixture of ash and Yrutan plague. In the distance the chaotic twirling skies above the Magna Tabes dominated the skyline. Lights of purple and pink played across the skies, and flashes of coloured lightening shot out from within the Tabes, momentarily infecting the skies above their heads, like tendrils reaching out from within. Jacobi had traversed the Barren Lands hundreds of time in his career, and he had never seen the Magna Tabes as active as this. It terrified him, especially now that he had seen what this demon-god was capable of. He looked around at his men, they were arranged in a column stretching back a small distance. Despite being on horseback, their faces were weary. This had been an arduous journey. Strife in the Verition countryside had meant that this diplomatic delegation had spent time moonlighting as peacekeepers and bringers of justice in the remote towns and villages they had traversed through. It had added precious time to their journey. And then there was the weather. It seemed like the moment they had left Veritious they had been battered by storms and rain. At this point, cold was all they knew, their clothes had been in a stage of almost constant damp. Their provisions were good, but the men were eager to reach their destination. To reach some kind of civilisation, even if it was as alien and unusual as Asil.
As Insignas rode, resigning himself to another night of cold sleeping in the Barren Lands, he saw something glinting in the distance. A light? He rummaged around in a satchel which had been haphazardly flung over his shoulder and pulled out a small spyglass. Pulling on the reigns of his horse, he dropped down to gain a stable footing and pulled the spyglass up to his eye. The men around him noticed him doing so and slowed to a halt. “What is it, ser?” asked one of the men closest to him. “A settlement. I see a settlement,” Insignas replied, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.
Amnest, Veritious
The coronation had been rushed. A private affair, Absalon was the only Viceroy who could make it. This was somewhat intentional, there was nothing to crown the young King, nothing for him to be seated upon. The regalia was gone, Johalas would forever be a King-Unsat. Even now, men dug in the rubble, looking for signs of the dead king and the crown he took with him, or perhaps a script-covered fragment of the throne. Anything which may grant the monarchy some kind of legitimacy. Alas, it had not occurred.
There was little in the ancient texts that provided insight as to what a King should do if the regalia were to disappear. They had been the centrepiece of Verition society. Ancient Veritians had not planned for this eventuality in the same way a statesman does not plan procedures in the case their homeland ceases to exist. The state is considered to be eternal, until it isn’t, at which case it’s to be assumed that the lands have been captured by a foreign foe and all texts would be invalidated anyway. Ancient Veritions had not considered the monarchy to be feasible without the regalia. This was unacceptable to Johalas. He ordered his scholars to continue looking. Days passed, weeks even. Until eventually, a little-known procedure was discovered. It was meant to be used in the case of unsteady succession or in the case that the King was incapacity or a minor and a regent could not be agreed upon: The Vicroy Senate. A gathering of all the Viceroys in the land, gathered to advise and, if necessary, legislate.
The summons were sent out at once. Johalas, now King Johalas, would gather and be subjected to the will of the very men who had betrayed him and caused the death of his father. This was the price of his legitimacy. Alternatives existed, of course, but they would demand a different price. Johalas would have ample time to consider this.
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Post by Andromitus on Jan 1, 2019 15:20:53 GMT -5
Aqaz’tezahn, Asilic Surface
• • • • • • • • 6 months earlier • • • • • • • •
Round, pale eyes widened as the thick iron gates split open. It was easily the most natural ambient light they’d ever seen outside of the Deep-Interior, and it was 3 o’clock in the morning. Tùrvn gasped inward as he was pushed forward and his view of the surface continued to expand outward. It just kept going. In all directions, it was just so…unceasingly vast. Its dark gray ceiling seemed to warp and move, folding and bending in one wave-like direction. The Traders, when he pointed to it, called it “Sky”. He felt a little less self-conscious when, after they’d made it to the Mirewalkers, Túrm was just as confused as he after the trade master told them to begin covering their eyes and only looking to the ground. “Do as he says”, Kvòvn stated frankly, ignoring Túrm’s protest; he was quickly growing tired of the mans attitude. Tùrvn had never ridden the Khemet Stalk-legs personally, what time he’d spent in Zàtol resigned him to naval travel, but the Mirewalkers certainly simulated the imagined feeling; Six huge legs kept the enormous central body steady as it treaded slowly across the silty mud of the Mires. They’d been travelling for at least two hours before everything went white. He lurched forward, blind eyes shutting closed in pain as his hands started to fumble about. He felt other arms around him, water splashing over his face and a blanket over his head. He could hear Kvòvn’s stern voice barking down toward him, “That’s it boy, open your eyes slowly, that’s it.” The view around him began to settle, light burned red through the cloth covering his eyes, growing slowly stronger as it was steadily pulled away, adjusting to the sudden change in light. “Slow there...i’ll explain soon, just, adjust slowly.” Tùrvn blinked painfully as his eyes adjusted, aching from the brightened landscape. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen: to start the sky had changed, streaks of blue cut through puffs of grey, and to his left…to his left the sky screamed. Searing white light surged from the distance as Kvòvn forced him to face away from it. “ That’s ‘Sun’ child, the surface is saying hello.
Central Plains, Quijain
They’d shifted from the Mirewalkers to smaller, four-legged animals called “Horses” a while ago and almost immediately time seemed too slow as the Caravan stopped moving every night. Four legs was the norm here, interestingly; small “foxes” and “rabbits”, darted underfoot away from them, and larger animals, “deer” and “bear” towered in the distance. The surface had Khemet-Animals too, small “Ants” and “flies” were abundant, especially along lands called “plains”. He didn’t really realize when that’d happened; small blades of grasses sprouting from dry, cracking soil shifted overtime into fronds as they left the barren landscape behind. “Different lands on the surface changed so slowly you’d never notice.” Kvòvn had said, and he’d rather liked the idea. A land so vast and wide, so huge that change simply couldn’t happen quickly. There were people here too, the “Qiizhayn”. They rode horses, and spoke so plainly he could barely tell their words apart from each other. They rode together in huge swarms and always wore funny clothing; “strange but warm” Kvòvn had corrected him. Most of the time they were happy to trade with the caravan for necessary supplies, both parties always seemed rather surprised to see each other, neither ever really knowing what to do. Each day he’d crawled out of his tent, shaking Tùrvn senseless until the he woke up, then help Kát start the early-morning fire hoping to eat before sunrise when the morning aches set in – a side effect of not having eyes built for surface life. He’d started wearing a veil like the rest of his kind, anything to ward off the sun and help with the cold. He usually’d help the other Rohzai traders set their horses after finishing his; he claimed it was out of the kindness of his heart but really, anything to stay away from the spell casters was appreciated. Tùrvn seemed to like their company, referring to them humbly as “Karatha” no matter how Kvòvn protested. “The Sinners should be left to their devices.” “Shut it, old man. We’ve left that part of us behind.” “ You have.”
Northwestern Territories, Quijain
There were the raids, too. Qiizhayn war bands would terrorize them every so often, swift attacks in the night or prolonged chases during the night. The Spell-Casters usually could ward them off, otherwise the Rohzai’d use their crossbows. After the first few nights of waking up to yells, Túrm thought he’d be used to it. But then, worst was outside the Saingtao Forests. “HUR.” His eyes shot open as his tent flashed orange. Grabbing a small hunting knife, he rushed outside into the cold; it was the later evening, just as most of the dinner fires were being put out when the raid had started. Qiizhayn mages had muffled the rumble of their horses but one of the caravan’s Karatha had spotted them and had managed too rouse his men, forming a defense around the caravan. Crossbow bolts started to scream through the air when; “BARIQ!” A flash of blue erupted from one of the Karatha and crackling streams of energy leapt from raider to raider. Magic, they were using magic! A small hand grasped his back, Kát, “We have to get back!” she yelled over the fury before her eyes widened. Four raiders had broken past the defensive line of the Karatha warriors. They were charging straight toward them. What happened next was a blur. Tùrvn, seemingly materializing from nothing, shoved both of them out of the way. The man straightened his back, raising his hand and like that Túrm thought he was saying goodbye to his longtime friend. “Harq!” There was a bang as tongues of fire spiraled out among the small band of raiders who collapsed to the ground as incendiary energy poured over them like wind. Tùrvn staggered a little bit, sweat pouring from his face. Túrm could only respond with shock. The raiders retreated soon after.
An Staccs Lower Foothills, Quijain
It was so cold here now he could see his own breath in front of him. The landscape was changing again, this time he new it for certain; so to catch it, each morning he’d check his surroundings, making notes in a small notebook he managed to grab with him before they’d first left. They were on the verge of foothills this time, dew from the night would freeze by morning, and the rains fell like ice sheets. Then the ground turned white, flakes of ice drifted calmly from the thick, clouded sky. “Snow.” He and Kát had spent most of the day riding in awe at the world around them as it transformed in record time; the constant snowfall made seeing almost anything near impossible so the pair of them started taking turns, one echolocating to check for obstacles and to keep pace with the group, the other panning the world around them in a mixture of shock and awe. And then the world changed again, as a small shadow in the distance suddenly pierced the sky. They’d ran yesterday into traders from the far-west who’d warned them about something like this. The ground that reached the sky; they’d called it Stacc Kinaird
Southern Abel Province, Lexidun
They’d split from the Rohzai Traders a couple of days ago, taking what provisions they could in exchange for what precious metals Kvòvn gave them. He was actually slightly upset at that, he’d been getting better at actually talking to the Rohzai, and from what he’d heard the people here spoke nothing like them. The four of them had managed to hear about an abandoned sight several kilometers from a settlement called “Abel”, a lonely stone tower deep in the countryside. Even after the rough week of searching it’d taken them to find the damn thing Tùrvn and Kvòvn weren’t on speaking terms. Kvòvn refused to call him anything but a non-believer, and that anger was taking serious tolls on all of them. The tower, more of a small fort, was in total disarray and their bickering wasn’t making its renovation easier. He, Kvòvn, and Kát had managed to fix most of the interior bastion, only about four rooms really, while the two of them and Tùrvn had set about fixing the outer wall as best they could, establishing a pecking order for chores and hunting. It was the second week, before when the two of them, Tùrvn and Kvòvn got into another argument. The former had used a quick spell to start the fire and they’d been arguing for the past hour. He couldn’t take it, he hated it. The constant arguing, the magic, the unending homesickness; with barely a hug for Kát he grabbed one of their alchemic bronze hunting knives, and left the compound. He didn’t even care at this point, passing the usual landmarks he and Tùrvn used for their hunting trails. He’d been stalking a deer for a little while; he’d forgotten to even bring one of their caravan bows but was too angry/anxious to go back for it. Besides, he was the one hearing and being unheard, Tùrvn had taught him that trick. Stay low, echolocate, and be calm. They’d felled a deer before with that strategy, granted there were two of them then but doing it alone shouldn’t be that hard. So he stayed low, clicking every few seconds, letting the deers own sounds reveal its location before he lunged forward. Missing by a thin margin he was counted by a rear kick to his nose as the surprised animal sprinted in the other direction. He took a moment to regain his bearings, smearing blood from off his nose. Then he realized it. None of the landmarks made sense. He was lost.
Aliim'yhrall, Asilic Surface
By this point they were deep into the Barren territories, travelling almost endlessly through a mixture of soft sands and cracking, sunbaked soil. Not the easiest terrain for a horses, but they’d been managing. If anything they’d grown to be much warier of omens from the opposite direction; their weary eyes had learned fast to watch the skys. Since before they’d arrived the horizon was a ceaseless, darkened mass shifting violently between a frigid cold and strong, hot winds. But now their luck seemed to have changed as the distance, between the flashes of Tabe lighting in the background, bursts of greenish-white cut across the landscape. Four lights burned above the desert below; the Port-City of Aliim’yhrall stood tall against the thermal scream of Yrutas. Within the next hour they’d finished the final slog through the wildlands of the Asilic Surface, and as if on cue the landscape around them seemed to shift. Harder paths cut into the cracking soil began to become more pronounced. Small dots of blue glowed dully in shallow indentations in the soil, the first signs of life they’d seen in potentially weeks struggling to keep the soil alive. The ground around them began to rise as they passed in-between a gap in a thick wall-like mound of sand coursing off in either direction, and had it been lighter, the tired travelers would’ve seen the markings for masses of Cisterns irrigating the harsh landscape. They were met mainly with looks of disbelief along the exterior walls of the city as Rohzai men and women were quick to being offering what meal they could for the horses. Transactions were fast, the diplomats had more than enough to hire the stables even if they weren’t necessarily built for the four-legged animals, and after centuries of trade the men were happy to accept Veritian coin, going so far as to help them find bedding within the city (of course ignoring any biases for guild-affiliations). It was early morning by the time they passed the city gates; the loose array of guards marking everything on them from the number of people, their nationality, stay time, and purpose of visit (on this front the Veritians failed to get away with yet more flurry of looks, but the Guards were less than willing to try and stop them). The city itself was inherently different from Shaad’quam (Insignas’s previous visit in the country); where Shaad’quam was relatively organized, Aliim’yhrall was a hotchpotch of collective and private estates, market places, and winding roads all circling around various domed temples. Buildings were made out of everything from mud-brick to sandstone; Likewise the lights they’d seen from the desert beyond seemed to from an array of spires placed around the city meant to hail trading convoys similar to lighthouses. Not before long however, they’d found the Inn they’d been directed too; a relatively enormous mud-brick building where, hopefully, the group would find much needed rest, food, and water.
Aqaz'quaram, Asilic Surface
At least his head didn’t ache. It was all Tiyn could think as he slowly opened his eyes, his gut slowly unclenching as he was met with the familiar glow of the Zyān light crystals. Rolling onto his back his view materialized around him. He was in a side room, a small slit of a room separated from the main buildings interior by a thin wooden wall, soft green light flowing through ornate, pattered carvings. He lay still for a moment, tired of constantly waking up in some strange new location…maybe if he rested his eyes a little… The human man grinned widely back at him. Bare feet touched cold stone as he tore himself upward. Standing deathly still, he pressed himself against the thin stone wall and the smell of the wood panel wafted over him. His surroundings began to focus as he calmed down: The room itself was minuscule, no more than a thin slit with barely any room between him and the raw, un-carved cavern wall housing various indents, cubbies, for clothing and shoes, as well the actual bed itself; behind him the wooden wall creased in the middle forming a sliding door. Sighing out slowly he slumped forward, allowed his screaming muscles a rest a rest, his forehead just barely missing the natural stone surrounding it. He was still shaking. • • • • • • • • A few hours earlier • • • • • • • • The guards almost stabbed the man right there as a sudden flash of white light spilled out of his coat pocket. They would’ve too, had it not been for the relative confusion of the various doctors present — no less excited at the prospect of working with an upper-casteman from the deep interior, they were the first to note their compasses were oddly still. The object was a small amulet, a round pendant strung on a thin silver chain, but it glowed white with a ferverence. What confused the doctors however, was that it had no Yuāhr, no magical reading. None of their instruments even budged when put directly on top of the thing. What it was and, more importantly where it came from, was completely unknown. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Silk bedding, black and white of all colors…where was he? There was a commotion outside of his room before the door was suddenly slid open revealing a scribe woman; “Oh, you are awake, and it seems you can stand, that’s all good.” He wordlessly shook his head in agreement before allowing himself to be led out of into the main hall. It was octagonal, the ceiling curving up gently toward the center; Natural stone corners complemented similar wooden side-rooms as his, while various Zyān lamps bathed everything in a bright, white-green hue. “Sit here,” the Scribe gestured toward one of the various mats systematically placed along the floor, waiting for him before continuing, “Now, ‘fore the others come in I’ve several questions for you. D’you understand?” “Yes.” He responded “Good, ver’good; can’ya tell me y’name?” “Tiyn.” She was an odd one, he had to admit, and he knew he’dfeel better if she’d just stop making eye contact with him.“You’re of the Priests, aren’t you?” Tiyn nodded his head, “an ‘Alchemist? You ’ere wearing the uniform when we found you.” He paused, only just now realizing he wasn’t wearing any of his own clothes, “Yes?” Why was she acting like this if she knew who he was? “I am, I’m—” He was cut off as the pair of double doors behind him opened. “Why on God’s name did you not tell us he was awake?!” Tiyn turned with a start to the broad statured man behind him, another Priest, with brass metal plates the size of his forehead running along and down his dreaded hair, carrying a wide metal cylinder; “it’s bad enough you couldn’t revive him earlier, let alone find something as simple as a proper Tōhnáyht, but you don’t even think to come and get me yourself?!” “No no! Kva, I’d only just learned—“ “KNOW. YOUR. CASTE.” The scribe woman closed her eyes for a moment, bowing her head slightly, “Kva Ìymat Tóhm, with due respect he had just woken. I’m currently performing my standard duties, I’d’ve come to you personally if I’d been physically able.” “Get out.” She bowed her head again. “Of course, your Holiness.” The Priest, Kva, let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. “It has got to be, truly, their damned accents that kill me.” He sighed again before taking a seat in front of Tiyn, “Apologies for…all of that. It turns out that it is true what they say, society simple seems to break down the further from the interior you go.” “Of course, it is understandable.” “If I may request your full name?” “It is no concern: Tiyn Fvánkhát Ktsìn.” “Kva Ìjmat Tóhm. And if formalities are behind us, I believe I should skip right to the point in that case.” He said, placing the cylinder, roughly the size of a baby covered in Faōhzāh religious characters, in front of him. Tiyn recognized it easily: a Yuāhrtèt. The Priest twisted and opened the device, used to contain magical artifacts, and white light flooded outward. The Priest’s tone had completely changed when he spoke again, “Tiyn Fvánkhát Ktsìn, explain this.”
Northern Army 2nd Division; En Route to Kàhntchéht
Travelling North along the Āhrkngvīyn northern corridor, the 2nd Division sent to manage affairs in the north of the country had managed to rendezvous with several northern Garrisons during its journey, bolstering its numbers toward roughly 2,300 Soldiers. Currently passing through the Òvntsīyv ward, General Kii had placed his second in command, Khìym Thtsìvdaam Chùln, to lead the expedition with both hoping that, after reaching Òvntsīyv, they would have collected enough information on the enemy mount a proper resistance, and enough time would’ve passed for other settlements in the area to prepare for a siege. It was at Òvntsīyv however, that now General Khìym learned that of the attack against Kàhntchéht, suddenly he had a proper plan. Òvntsīyv Ward was one of the main connections between the Āhrkngvīyn and the northern cavern systems, and passing through its roadways would give them the ability to reach Kàhntchéht by boat. Bolstered by Garrison troops and the supply networks of the Northern-Circuits, the division-generals advisors —various Capital bureaucrats assigned to aid the military— believed it best to move on the enemy as soon as possible. The general on the other hand, had his doubts. From the reports the enemy forces seemed to fairly significantly dwarf their own, but just like any protest he made about the northerners use of magic, his points were countered as the advisors argued in favor of their superior firepower. Could they lay siege to their own city? • • • • • • • • Kàhntchéht —Kantchenkamaal— Āhrkngvīyn • • • • • • • • “The raiders have seized the Lower-Caste and Navigator districts so far, but Garrison lines along the interior bridges seem to be holding; supporting fire from the towers has helped but that’s slowing, and we managed to get a few boats sent toward Òvntsīyv for Capital reinforcements but we can not afford wistful thoughts on help from the Interior at this point.” The meeting had been going on for several hours now as, alongside various government officials, the cities Dtsāln, or Overseer, Kvat Thtsìyvntam Chkóht had tried desperately to contain the situation. He hadn’t been doing all that bad for a man specializing in naval management; for the Raiders it was a constant probing of defenses, new attacks along the north and south had left them more or less encircled, and the prospect of the siege was becoming more and more daunting. They’d yet to break into the defensive towers on the shore; but everyone in the room reckoned that without aid the city would fall. “I remain hope. After all, if the Northern Raiders go unchecked for too long it would endanger interior lives.” the advisor said, “but if we could gauge their aims….” “Their aims, Taantz, are too capture and enslave us, you saw the refugee’s from the outer settlements.” Another retorted. Kvat raised his hand, “Steady yourselves; they’ve not come here to target us specifically, we know that for certain. From the Garrison we’ve learned their attacks to be erratic and almost random, which is surprisingly different from the coordinated assaults along the border. They think the raiders are running blind so to speak, if anything we’re more a target simply because of the transit moving around us, with or without the Iylmirix. That sets us apart, they could very well see us as a solution to their location problems” “I agree with our Overseer,” one of the Officials said, “from what we know we are certainly the biggest settlement they’ve chosen to attack, if they’re targeting us for any reason that reason is information, more than stray Tūhmèt (smaller settlements) ever could.” “In that case, what should we do?” The first, Taantz, asked, “we can’t possibly hope to outstay them, not without reinforcements, but we can’t simply surrender—“ he was cut off by a knock on the door. “Enter.” Kvat said blandly; more bad news. The woman that entered, a Scribe, was quickly accompanied by a more-than-disheveled Navigator. A survivor from the dockyards? How many were even left alive down there? “What’s the meaning of this?” Said Kvat. “This man is an envoy from the Navigator Districts; the Raiders have taken executable hostages.” She responded; a collective sigh ran around the room. “On God, hostages?” “So it’s either Death by Raider or Death by Rioters now is it?” “What’s his message?” Kvat asked. “He says the Raiders claim to be a forward attack, that more are coming. They have taken the district populations as executable hostages; they demand our surrender.” “God Help us.” “Calm yourselves.” Kvat repeated, “We will not surrender.” “My Dtsāln,” the scribe said, “they have Upper-Castes among them.” The man thought for a moment, “Send them a message. Request what they intend for our city and for our people and wh—” “You’re trying to negotiate with them?!” One of the officials burst out. “No. I’m buying us time. I will not surrender to backwards savages. I agree with Taantz, the Capital will respond, at least in giving order for other Garrisons to send their own aid, and with materials from the Interior we could break the encirclement even if we’re at a numerical disadvantage, the raiders are paddling stolen grain barges out there, we have warships.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The Scribe and Navigator approached the line of Troops with much more than unease, passing through toward the middle of the bridge so as to face the Raiders but stay within the safety of the defensive line. ”I request and audience from you.“ “We request you listen to us.” the Navigator translated, waiting for one of the raiders to get their superiors; he was sweating nervously, he hadn’t been on a Salt-Barge (the majority of cross-border trading missions) in ages. ”What are your intentions for the people of the City?“ “What..er..What do you want to do to us?” He paused, “What will you to do us if you take this town.” ”We cannot surrender. You must accept a settlement.” “We are unable to surrender. What can we give you to leave? Will you accept a settlement.” He quickly switched to Tēhnvzāh before continuing, “we have Gold.” • • • • • • • • Makeshift Prison; Kàhntchéht (Kantchenkamaal) • • • • • • • • The city had fallen already? Syll was genuinely surprised they’d try a lie like that, the Navigator settlement was that inept. But if this was only the first wave in some, Kuora invasion…she paused as the Warlord began to speak and started to glance at Xyn. She was starting to wish she was stationed along the northern territories more so she didn’t have to keep looking to him for a translation every 5 minutes.
“He made another threat about us not talking…and, I think something about fingernails?” She rolled her eyes, “We’re not talking you psychotic infidel,” she growled, gasping a little at the pain of speaking before spitting onto the ground in front of the warlord.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jan 1, 2019 21:27:55 GMT -5
High Admiral Hunter Macleish, Near Savage Island- Dominion of the South East Caldives
He gave a grand bow, one arm behind him and one in front, inclining deep before the young royal in front of him. First impression were important, he was well aware of that, now more than anything. Ruby followed with a courteous bow of her own, following his movements and etiquette to his immediate right. He was impressed. Letting out a silent sigh at the revelation that the king could speak, albeit justifiably slightly broken, common.
"Hail your majesty, I am High Admiral Hunter Macleish of the Royal Lexidun Navy, retainer of my liege King Blair de Brus of the Noble Empire of Lexidus. This is my colleague and fellow servant of the crown, Miss Ruby Hollins of the Merchant Association of Lexidus and Lexidus Expeditionary Company."
He scanned the king and his entourage, they were legitimate, how on earth had they evaded Lexidun knowledge for this long? No matter, all that was required was to take up the king on his offer immediately and ensure friendly relations. The new dominion required it. He made sure to speak clearly but not mockingly so. "It would be my honour to accept your offer of friendship on behalf of my king and allow relations between our two proud nations. In honour of this arrangement, we offer you maps and books detailing Lexidus history and as well as her dealings down south in this region."
Following up Hunter, Ruby spoke in a clear and polite manner as well, she was certainly making a positive impression with Hunter at least. He was glad she was accompanying him. "Lexidus is a wealthy and prosperous nation, we have many allies and plenty of commodities to trade that would surely benefit your kingdom and us."
King Blair de Brus, Blair's Chambers - Camelon Castle
The shaving of the beard had gone relatively well, only a few nicks that bled slowly and then ceased all together. He looked 10 years younger but despite the long and hot bath, felt 10 years older still. His eyes were baggy and dull, his skin pale despite an attempt to flush his skin out with vapours and the bath. His nose still felt sensitive to the touch, a constant reminder of what happened. Exiting the bathing room, he adorned himself with the usual leisure attire, gray tunic and trousers. He didn't care much for royal attire much anymore, especially not when on his own. He kept to himself largely when not attending royal duties, he barely spoke to Crowley in his spare time. Electing to stay in his chamber, the central courtyard and the map room. He kept himself busy with studies of the Magna Tabes and of Yrutas. He ordered book after book and tome after tome from across all of Calveria, in an attempt to learn as much about the mad god as possible. It helped distract him from the dreams or rather, the nightmares.
He tosses and turns in bed, the incident replaying in his mind like a kaleidoscope of regret. The mother, beckoning him forward, her smile warm and a aura of light surrounding her. Her face turning to fear and her yelling at him to run. A cold presence behind him. He's dreamed this before. He turns. A punch, blood in his eyes, ground against his back, a cold armoured hand grasping his throat. A roar, ground smashing into him once more, a moan. A spear, a body, he screams as she falls. He holds her and feels her slipping. She looks into his eyes, she begins to speak and then... darkness. A void all around him. He's alone. He stands, still feeling the blood pouring down his face. He feels hands meet at his stomach as she hugs him from behind, she's cold.
"Don't let them take from you ever again."
Her voice his distant. He feels more hands begin to clasp all around him, his throat, his legs and arms. He's pinned to the ground. He tries to scream but more hands cusp over his mouth. She appears above him, deformed again, this time monstrously so. Her limbs are elongated, she smiles with wolves teeth stretching all the way to her ears and hey eyes are emanate black muck. She wears no clothes and his surrounded in a shawl of darkness. He closes his eyes, he wants to wake up, goddess please let him wake up. Please. A knife pierces his heart and he screams, the wraith laughing with a corruption filled cackle.
Blair awakens with a jolt, falling out of his bed in the process, scrambling to his feet and grabbing a knife on his bed side. He's back in his room, its still night outside and he's alone. All alone. He lets himself fall into a sitting position against the door, he feels a wave of relief and fear flow through him and he cries. He sits and sobs for nearly an hour, holding himself tight with his knees pressed against his chest. Falling asleep eventually with exhaustion taking over him.
He surveyed his freshly cut face once more before leaving his room, this time wearing boots. He made his way towards Crowley's chambers and knocked. The old Steward opening it and staring at Blair.
"I uh... *ahem*" his voice was shaky. He was barely holding himself together. Crowley could tell. "I need you to write for Magister Griffon to come to me at once please. There's... something wrong with me."
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Post by Percyton on Jan 2, 2019 0:51:23 GMT -5
Harold’s Gate, Peel Godred, Dual Kingdom of the Isles King Godred
The banners were raised high and the crowd cheered. The day of King Godred and his 25,000-man army’s departure for the Magna Tabes expedition had arrived, and practically the whole city came out to see the heroes off. While Godred made the final preparations and waited for the crowd to die down, his soldiers talked to and hugged their family and friends in the front of the crowd, not sure if they’d ever see each other again. Duke, the commander of the King’s Dwarf Guard, inspected the army. When he was finished, he looked at the King and nodded. “Everything’s set, Your Majesty. We’re all set to go.”
Godred nodded in return. “Excellent.” He turned his horse around to face the crowd. “My subjects,” he proclaimed, “I will not lie to you: This is a dangerous expedition. I’m sure many of you have heard the horrifying tales of the Magna Tabes, and the horrible scars it leaves on people both physically and mentally. But we shall not be deterred! No! We will be bringing the fight to Yrutas’ doorstop and showing him you don’t mess with the Dual Kingdom without consequences!” The crowd cheered and hollered in agreement.
Deciding he needed to temper the crowd’s expectations, Godred pivoted to a more somber tone. “I don’t know how many of your sons, husbands, fathers, and friends will be returning, or even if I will be returning, but that will not cause us to lose hope! We will fight with all we’ve got, and we will not rest until the mad god is defeated!” The crowd roared in approval, as they sent off the Dual Kingdom expedition. The trumpets and drums of the Royal Band played a triumphal marching tune, as the monarch and his army marched through the gates and out of the city. King Godred’s fight against Yrutas had begun.
A few hours later… Countryside of Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles
The army marched north, preparing to board ships bound for the mainland. Godred and Duke looked at a map as they rode down the road. Suddenly, they heard a deep voice coming from up ahead: “Need a hand, Your Majesty?” Godred looked up, and saw a man on horseback, with two young servants on horseback next to him. The man had dirty blonde hair, a scraggly short beard, and a suit of mail armor. Godred recognized right away who it was.
“T-Thorkell?” Godred stuttered.
“Who else were you expecting?” Thorkell joked.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone. This is quite a surprise!”
Duke was confused. “You know this man?” he said to Godred.
“Of course I do!” Godred replied. “Thorkell fought with me to gain my throne, and he was one of my top commanders at several pivotal battles! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your farm?”
“Normally, yes,” Thorkell replied. “But your wife wrote to me and told me all about your situation. She said she wanted me to go along as your trusted adviser, and I couldn’t refuse an offer to help my old war buddy.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she did! I’m going to need help like yours for an expedition like this!”
Thorkell waved his hand dismissively. “If this expedition is as well-planned and well-executed as your actions at the Battle of Crovan’s Gate, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”
“Now, now, it wasn’t all me,” Godred insisted. “I couldn’t have done it with you and Duke Adam, and the bravery and skill of both of you were essential to my victory.”
Thorkell blushed. “Speaking of Duke Adam,” Thorkell said, changing the subject, “how has he been lately? Have you seen him?”
“Yes indeed,” Godred responded. “He came to my court a while back, and I threw a lavish festival in his honor! I would have loved to have Adam here too, but he told me he’s given up war and violence, and has become a man of peace.”
Thorkell chuckled. “He certainly wasn’t a man of peace when he was fighting alongside us! Which reminds me, I have something to give you.” One of Thorkell’s servants pulled something out of a messenger bag and handed it to Thorkell, who in turn handed it to King Godred. Godred examined the item closely: It was a silver necklace with a red amulet attached to it. Engraved on the amulet was an image of the goddess Myratnis. “Adam gave it to me when he last visited,” Thorkell explained. “He said it’s a spiritual object that grants its bearer divine protection from the Goddess herself. Personally, I just think it’s a good luck charm. Either way, I think you need it more than me right now.”
Godred clenched the necklace and held it up against his chest. “Whatever it is,” he said, “I will wear it with pride. Thank you, Thorkell.” Godred put the necklace around his neck and then hugged his old friend. “Now let’s show Yrutas what the Islanders are made of!” And with that, the group continued on their journey.
Lake Percival, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Norman and Sidney
Norman and Sidney were in their office, Norman sitting at his desk writing down ideas for new scams, while Sidney stood and watched over his shoulders. They were distracted, though. A few rooms over, they could hear their business partner Derek of Claytona conversing with Hymeko Breytor, the leader of the Black Bear Syndicate which controlled much of eastern Lake Percival. Norman and Sidney nodded to each other, then the pair walked closer to the open door of their office to hear better.
“I apologize if we caused any issues,” they heard Derek explain. “I assure you, our businesses are not in conflict in any way.”
“All the same, your boys better be careful,” replied Hymeko, who was more commonly known as ‘Bear’, both for his position in the Black Bear Syndicate, and his imposing stature: Bear was a tall and bulky Locomati man, and the thick plate armor he wore with leather covering the arms made him look even larger and even more intimidating. “This is the third time in two months I’ve caught your street rats trying to pull their little tricks in my territory. You’re lucky I’m a patient man, but I’m also a man who believes in fairness.”
“Yes, of course,” Derek replied nervously.
“And I don’t think it’s fair for you to infringe on my territory. If I just let anybody set up shop in my territory, it kinda defeats the purpose of having territory, you know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“So,” Bear concluded, “I’m gonna let you off with a warning. Again. But you’re on thin ice, Claytona. If I catch your people running a scam or scheme in my territory one more time, I’m gonna make sure you’ll never be able to show your faces in not just Lake Percival, but the entire central island region. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” Norman and Sidney couldn’t see Derek from their vantage point, but they imagined Derek was now nodding profusely.
“Good,” Bear replied. “In that case, I think we’re done here. Good day, Derek.” Bear then pushed his chair out, and left the room. As they saw him pass by their door, Norman and Sidney swore that they could feel the ground shake as Bear’s heavy black boots hit the floor. Derek followed slightly behind Bear, stopping when he saw Norman and Sidney.
“Shesh,” Norman remarked, “what’s his problem?”
“He could be a lot worse,” Derek responded. “In fact, he was once a pretty nice guy.”
“Really?” Norman said incredulously.
“Yes. According to the rumors, he was once Diesalion X’s most generous and gentlest adviser before the unification.”
“So how did Bear end up like… this?” Sidney asked.
“Well,” Derek went on, “apparently Diesalion’s deposition left Bear out of work. Bear wandered around a bit until he came across Lake Percival and its syndicates. After that, Bear had to adapt himself in order to make it in the criminal underworld, but apparently he hasn’t completely changed: Supposedly he was just concerned about ideas of ‘fairness’ and ‘justice’ as an adviser as he is now.”
Norman scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Probably just some made-up stories to make Bear seem like a better guy than he actually is.”
Later that day, Norman and Sidney were at Brown Square, the central plaza in Lake Percival. Its central location, and the resultant heavy foot traffic, not only made it an attractive location for scam artists like Norman and Sidney, but it also made it the object of much syndicate warfare, as it lay on the border between the territory of the Black Bear Syndicate and its main rival, the Red Lizard Syndicate. For now, however, there was a relative peace, leaving the region free for Norman and Sidney to set up operations. They were coaching a subordinate of theirs, a teenage street urchin named Caleb, on how to sell their latest scam.
“Alright,” Norman said. “You’re ready. Now go out there and make us some gold!”
“Ok, boss,” Caleb affirmed. Caleb then went into the center of the square, and stood upon an overturned box. “Brothers and sisters of Lake Percival,” Caleb began, “lend me your ears!” A crowd slowly began forming in front of Caleb, eager to see what the shouting was about. “For I bring you the most exciting opportunity of a lifetime! May I present to you…” Caleb grabbed a brown cloth bag, and pulled out a glass bottle filled with a yellow liquid, holding it aloft before the crowd. “Dr. H’s Hair Again Regeneration Elixir! Or just Hair Again, for short. Just a bottle every three days will make your hair magically grow back! Just ask this strapping young man who suffered from premature baldness!” At this, Caleb gestured to Norman, who came over and stood next to Caleb and the box. “Tell me good sir, what is your opinion of Hair Again Elixir?”
“It’s wonderful!” Norman replied, feigning his joy. “I once wallowed and sobbed all day because of my lack of hair. Now, I have so much hair, it’s even growing between my eyebrows!”
“Indeed it is!” Caleb confirmed, bombastically gesturing his arms and pointing at Norman’s unibrow for emphasis. “That is an amazing result! And best of all, your first bottle is 50% off! So if you want to regrow the hair you had as a youth, sales open right now! Step right up, folks!” There was a small applause, and a long line formed as Caleb stepped off the box and began selling bottles from his cloth bag. Norman stood beside him supervising, but after a few sales, a man with a short black beard, black coat, and a black hat approached Norman, gesturing to pull him aside. Norman followed the man, who put his arms around Norman’s shoulder.
“I understand you’re in charge of this little operation,” the man said.
“Who’s asking?” Norman questioned suspiciously.
The man tipped his hat. “Name’s Lester Hawthorn. I’m an agent of the Black Bear Syndicate, and I would like to inform you that you’re infringing on our territory. I understand you’ve had run-ins with our group before, so you of all people should know my boss only has so much patience.”
“Now hold on, mister,” Norman responded, feeling a bit confused. “I was under the impression Brown Square was disputed territory.”
“Disputed indeed!” shouted a voice. Lester and Norman looked, and saw another man in a goatee, red coat, and red hat pointing accusatively at Lester.
“Ah, Waggonis,” Lester greeted. “Nice to see you again. How are things?”
“Cut the pleasantries, Lester!” Waggonis snapped. “You and I both know this is Red Lizard Syndicate territory, so I think you’ll find these hucksters are infringing on OUR territory, not yours!”
“That’s a lie and you know!” Lester shot back, approaching Waggonis. “Our latest compact gives the Black Bear Syndicate full control of Brown Square!”
“Full control? Hardly. The compact said you and your people could pass through here without fear of violence, and could establish an office along the square, but we’re still in charge of the businesses and schemes here!”
“Poppycock! The compact contained no such restrictions!” By now the two gangsters were standing only a couple of inches apart, and they were practically breathing on each other. Tension filled the plaza.
“Regardless,” Waggonis continued, “we’ve been exercising enforcement power here for far longer than you. In fact, I intend to exercise that power now.” Waggonis reached into a large sack and pulled out a bow and arrow. While the others backed away and watched in shock, Waggonis loaded the arrow, pulled it back, and released it. The arrow swiftly flew through the air, sailing across the square and hitting Caleb, who was in the middle of a sale, right in the chest. Caleb fell down on his back almost instantly.
Norman was outraged at what he just saw. A look of fury came over his face. “What in the name of the Goddess was that?” Norman yelled, marching up to Waggonis. “You just killed one of my employees!”
“If you don’t want to be next,” Waggonis replied, “I suggest you stay quiet about that fact.” Waggonis pulled out a sword to drive home his point. Norman went tight-lipped and slowly backed away, but Lester wasn’t so easily dissuaded.
“You had no right to do that, Waggonis!” Lester shouted. “This is a violation of Black Bear sovereignty! I’m taking this straight to Bear!”
“Oh no you don’t!” Waggonis charged after the fleeing Lester, chasing him to the other end of the square. As Lester approached a storefront blocking his way, he turned around and pulled out his own sword, using it to block Waggonis’ thrust. The two exchanged sword blows like this for some time, metal striking metal, but neither side making any progress. Finally, Waggonis put both his hands on his sword and held it horizontally, pushing it against Lester’s still-vertical sword. Lester held his sword with all his might, but he couldn’t do it forever. At last, Waggonis won out, knocking Lester off balance and causing the Black Bear agent to trip. Before Lester could even think of getting up, Waggonis plunged his sword into Lester’s heart, killing him instantly.
As this was going on, Norman and Sidney could only watch in horror. They gasped as they saw Waggonis’ brutal murder of Lester. “Oh dear,” Sidney muttered. “This is going to have consequences.”
“No shit, Sidney,” Norman snarked. Before anyone could say anything else, they heard in the distance the sound of stone falling to the ground, as if a building had collapsed. Everyone in the square turned and looked in the direction of the crashing sound. “What was that?” Norman asked.
Lake Percival, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Burnett Stone and Lady
Not far away, Burnett Stone, Lady, and Agent 125 Vulcan were preparing for their biggest mission yet: infiltrating the Order of BR. The paper they received from one of the Order’s agents gave a meeting place of Peregrine Hall, in the resort town of Lake Percival, so that’s where they went. They had donned disguises, putting on simple peasant tunics and shorts.
The trio arrived at the building, a drab, grey structure made of stone. They entered, and approached the desk of a middle-aged Locomati woman who acted as receptionist. “Can I help you gentlemen?” the woman asked.
“We’re here about the special event,” Vulcan replied.
The woman nodded. “Third floor, room 312 on the right.”
“Much obliged,” Vulcan said as he and his two partners made their way to the room. After climbing up the wooden stairs to the third floor, they navigated to room 312. It had no special markings, and it looked just like all the other rooms. Vulcan knocked on the door. A thin horizontal panel slid open in the center of the door, and the group saw a pair of Locomati eyes in the opening.
“Who dares approach the gates of Yrutas?” the man on the other side asked, his voice quiet but intimidating.
“Those who have walked his path and recognize his vision,” Vulcan calmly responded. The panel slid closed, and the group heard the sound of locks being undone. After a couple seconds, the door opened. The trio entered, and found a small dark room, lit only by torches along the wall, with a yellow brick interior. Besides the torches, the only other thing in the room was a set of stairways going down. Vulcan looked at Burnett and Lady and nodded. The two nodded in return, and the group started trudging down the stairs. It was grueling work, as the stairs seemed almost endless, and the dim lighting of the room caused the trio to strain their eyes. Their legs were nearly worn out, and they had long lost track of how many flights of stairs they had descended, when the group finally reached the bottom. This room was much larger, and they saw a group of people, both human and Locomati, sitting in rows in the center of the room. There were five rows of five chairs each, seating 25 people. The chairs faced a large stage at the front of the room.
A human man approached Vulcan, Burnett, and Lady. The man was balding, having only wispy grey hair on the side of his head, and he had a friendly smile on his face. “Ah, you must be our new members!” the man greeted warmly. “Welcome to the Order of BR! I am Dr. Beechtorius.” Using both his hands, Beechtorius shook Vulcan’s, Burnett’s, and Lady’s hand in turn. “You’re just in time: The meeting is about to start.” Beechtorius escorted the trio to three seats in the center of the seating arrangement; there were no other empty seats.
“Am I the only one thinking our seating arrangement is a bit suspicious?” Lady whispered to Burnett and Vulcan.
Vulcan scoffed. “You worry too much, my dear. It’s probably just their place of honor for new members, so everyone can see us when we’re introduced.”
“Or so everyone can fight us,” Lady muttered under her breath. The group sat down, and immediately afterwards, P.T. Boomerius and Diesalion X came onto the stage. Boomerius stood near the edge of the stage, with Diesalion to his right.
“Welcome, one and all, to our monthly general meeting of the Order of Britanwas Rayanos!” Boomerius began. “We have a lot to cover, so let’s get started. First, I believe the Committee on Infiltration has some progress to share. Junius, does your committee have an update for us?”
A man at the end of the first row to Boomerius’ left stood up. “We do, my lord,” Junius said. “As you know, our efforts have been focused on infiltrating the Locomati Diplomatic Corps. So far, the Locomati ambassador and her assistant have served as obstacles to our efforts, but we have still implanted several agents and convinced a few diplomats to switch sides. Even ones who were previously staunch opponents of ours have been swayed.”
Boomerius nodded. “Excellent work, Junius. Stage 1 is coming along nicely. For Stage 2, we must…” Boomerius stopped, as Diesalion approached him and whispered something in his ear. “Diesalion has just informed me I skipped an item on the agenda,” Boomerius said. “Apparently we have three new members. To the new members, stand up now and be recognized.”
Vulcan was the first to stand up, doing so with no hesitation. Burnett and Lady looked up each other nervously, before Burnett stood up, then Lady. Boomerius, Diesalion, and the rest of the room were now looking at the trio.
“Welcome to the Order of BR, strangers!” Boomerius said grandly. “Or should I say, Burnett Stone and Lady?” At this cue, the other members of the Order stood up and lit up their fists with fiery balls of energy of various colors. The three agents’ mouths were agape.
"It's a trap!" Vulcan shouted.
“But… how?” Burnett questioned.
“Did you really think we’d be stupid enough to trust a random person asking for membership?” Boomerius replied. “Although I must say, I expected Governor Bo’Conius would send backup, but I didn’t expect the backup to be the Chief Driver and his companion. How are you, old friend?”
“I’ll be better once you and your Order are dead!” Burnett seethed.
Boomerius laughed. “Oh yes, I’m sure you will be. This is quite a lovely surprise, Burnett.”
“Well,” the Chief Driver responded, “what can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Burnett pulled his hands back then thrust them forward, releasing a blue beam of energy that sent the person in front of him and the person behind that person crashing into the stage.
Boomerius growled. “Well don’t just stand there!” he screamed to his men. “Get them!” The Order’s members prepared to fire their own energy beams, but Burnett was quicker, shooting energy beams and clearing a path through the crowd to the exit. Burnett held up a blue energy shield on his right side to block against attacks from the side, Vulcan used his sword to hold back the Order on his left side, while Lady ran with them in the center. The three managed to cut through the crowd, but found Beechtorius and two other Order of BR members blocking the door.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Beechtorius announced. As the Order’s members closed in on the trio of agents, Burnett looked around, surveying his surroundings for an opening. His partner Vulcan, however, was less patient: He unsheathed his sword and charged straight at Beechtorius. Beechtorius calmly released a wave of red energy; it barely missed Vulcan’s head, but it still managed to slice Vulcan’s sword in half. Seeing his primary weapon rendered useless, Vulcan gulped and stood where he was, frozen in panic.
Now it was Burnett’s turn to act. Seeing a bench and a shelf on the wall in the back of the room to his right, Burnett turned around and knocked a wave of purple energy at the Order members who stood between him and the bench, knocking the members off their feet. While they were down, Burnett ran toward the bench. He jumped on the bench, fired a couple quick blasts to hold off approaching enemies, and then climbed onto the shelf. From his high position, Burnett began rapidly shooting blue energy beams into the group below him, knocking out four Order members in succession. He looked across the room and saw Vulcan running onto the stage.
“Boomerius, Diesalion, and Beechtorius are escaping!” Vulcan shouted to Burnett. “I’m going after them!”
“Okay!” Burnett shouted back. Burnett was about to continue blasting, when he felt the shelf below him shake. To make matters worse, an Order of BR member had jumped onto the bench and was trying to reach Burnett’s shelf. Realizing he couldn’t stay on the shelf any longer, Burnett jumped high into the air. He fired a wave at the back of the crowd, knocking them down and clearing a spot for him to land. He managed to land on his feet, but he landed too hard, breaking his legs. Burnett’s knees buckled, as he fell to the floor screaming in pain. Lady rushed over and held Burnett up. The couple saw the Order’s members approaching them, and with the little energy he had remaining, Burnett launched a huge wave of purple energy, sending the numerous agents in front of him flying toward the wall and knocking them unconscious. Burnett launched a smaller wave behind him, knocking the agents in front of the door unconscious as well. Less than a second later, Vulcan ran back into the room and went up to Burnett and Lady.
“What happened to Boomerius, Diesalion, and Beechtorius?” Lady asked.
“They got away!” Vulcan exclaimed. “But before they did, they lit the building on fire! We have to get out now!”
“We’ll never make it if we have to go back up to the third floor,” Lady said worriedly.
“Don’t worry; I found a shortcut. Come on!” Vulcan and Lady grabbed Burnett on either side, and ran as fast as they could through the backstage area, up a few flights of stairs, and out a back exit to safety. From outside they could see the flames rapidly engulfing Peregrine Hall. The two set Burnett down on the ground and then stopped. Vulcan looked back at the building, and with only a second of hesitance, began to run back inside.
“Vulcan, where are you going?” Lady cried.
“I’m not leaving here empty-handed,” Vulcan yelled back. “There must be some documents or something I can recover before it’s too late!” Lady was about to protest, but she saw Vulcan had already in the building.
“Oh Vulcan, please hurry,” Lady said to herself. She didn’t have to wait long. Thirty seconds later, with Vulcan still not out yet, the fires had spread too much, and Peregrine Hall fell down in flames. “VULCAN!” It was too late.
It didn’t take long for the locals to notice the fire, as it began spreading to neighboring buildings. While a group of residents formed a bucket line to put out the fire, a generous innkeeper escorted Burnett and Lady to her inn, taking them to a vacant room and telling the couple they could stay in the room for a few days free-of-charge while they looked for a healer to take them in. The innkeeper helped Lady put Burnett in bed, then she left them in the room to rest.
Burnett looked down and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lady. I failed.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Lady scolded, putting her hand on Burnett’s shoulder. “You did the best you could, and we did get some useful information about the Order’s plans.”
“Indeed we did, although not without costs.” There was an awkward silence as the two wordlessly acknowledged Vulcan’s passing. “Anyway, we’ll need to write to Queen Helga and Grand Duke Thomas about our findings straight away.”
“I agree,” Lady replied. “Although, I am a bit worried. Who did the Order turn? They said they turned even people who had previously opposed them. Could they be referring to Percy? Or Flora? Or both?”
“I don’t think so, my dear,” Burnett soothed. “And I think Helga and Thomas will trust them enough to put them above suspicion.”
Lady sighed and patted her creator’s hands. “I hope you’re right, Burnett.”
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jan 3, 2019 3:42:16 GMT -5
Makeshift Prison
The warlord growled as Syll spat on the ground, making it clear to him her position: grabbing his dagger out from its hilt, he slashed across her face, smiling grimly as she yelled in pain, fresh blood spilling from the wound upon her cheek. "Let's make things clear," he said in fluent Tēhnvzāh, "You can give me the information now and I'll arrange for better treatment for all three of you, or I will personally rip it out from your screaming carcasses." Flipping the dagger in his hand, he suddenly slashed Syll's shirt open, grabbing one of her breasts as Xyn and Alkrah began to protest, "Normally, I would let one of my men fuck you until you tell us what we want to know, but the thing is that elf fucks like you are not even worthy of that. To me, you are less than human, less than elf: you are just a cockroach." Pressing the tip of the dagger into Syll's flesh until it drew blood, he began tracing along her breasts and down her torso, watching her squirm under the pain, the knife finally stopping at her pelvis just above the waistband.
Whistling, the warlord ordered the two raiders outside to come in, "Cut her shirt off and pull the chains out of the wall," before turning to the translator, "Tell the men at the camp to bring a jar of pus and used bandages, then return to the interrogation chamber, I am going to have a chat with our guest here." As they pulled the chains out, their grips preventing Syll from doing anything more than squirm futilely, he looked at Xyn and Alkrah before gesturing to the translator once more, "Bring some salt as well to the chamber, and have four men come here: two to watch the cell and two to punish her friends." Nodding, the translator stepped out, two raiders immediately standing at either side of the cell door, two more slipping past as the warlord spoke in approval. As they stepped out, the warlord punched Syll in the stomach, causing her to gasp airlessly in pain, her squirming stopping as they pulled her out, the two new raiders looking at Xyn and Alkrah before cracking their knuckles, "You take the one who smells like shit and I take the faggot next to him?" The raider nodded, "Sure, but let us not get too carried away here: he might want to keep talking to them and I still want to fuck one of the priestesses the boys took in the recent raid." Interrogation Cell, one hour later
"Hey, fucker," Azkalon called as he kicked the door to the chamber open, holding a satchel in one of his hands and several scrolls in the other, "Stop getting your rocks off on that bitch and come to the headquarters, one of the men said that these Asil bastards want to pay us off. We also got trouble coming, someone's saying that elf reinforcements are en route, we need some scouts to verify the situation." "TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH, YOU STUPID CUNT! HOW MANY OF YOU ARE FUCKING WITH US?! YOU THINK I AM STUPID TO BELIEVE THAT YOU THREE ARE THE ONLY ONES HITTING US," the warlord yelled hoarsely over Syll's screams, the daggers carving into the flesh of her back, bolts being embedded into the open wounds before being coated with salt.
Azkalon walked over, pulling the warlord out, "Hey, big shit hitting us, need to talk right fucking now, you inbred savage," before slamming the door shut, the warlord pulling his sword out and pressing it into the flesh of Azkalon's jaw, "I am in the middle of getting some information from that idiotic bitch and you are interrupting me. Tell me what it is immediately or I will put you through the same fucking thing like her." Pushing the sword away, Azkalon glared as he muttered, "You really are a stupid fucker," before coughing and speaking more loudly, "Well, since you were clearly too fucking engrossed in your torture porn to have noticed, we got some new developments: looks like the elves are trying to start some negotiations - they are offering gold in exchange for us leaving, but from what it looks like, I would not trust them for a godsdamned second. Additionally, some scattered reports are coming in, rumors essentially, that they might be sending a response to the city."
The warlord pulled his sword away slightly, pondering over the information, "From my own guess, this looks like they are trying to buy some time: these elves are very willing to talk back to us 'savages,' this does not make sense that they would offer such amenities to us immediately. If those rumors are correct, they are trying to buy time, consolidate their forces to launch a counterattack. Alright, let us think about this for a second: how many of your men are still around?" Azkalon replied immediately, "Almost all of them, Anton got hit by a bolt while establishing the siege lines when we initially attacked, and Feliċ got stabbed by one of the hostages trying to take his repeating crossbow. Why?" "Do they still have their service uniforms?" "Yes, they still do, what is the fucking point here?" Azkalon asked exasperatedly, leaning against the wall.
The warlord nodded, "Okay, I want you to send some of those men as the scouts to investigate the truth of these rumors: have them wear their uniforms and tell them if they get captured that they are a Kyran Army unit sent to bolster the assault. Additionally, I'll send some of my men towards the Kyran border, have them hit the recent border postings: from what I have heard from new arrivals, some Army and Republican Guard units were sent after some shit went down at a border post in some place called Kahmpet, they have been looking for a fight and an excuse to cross the borders into here - we raid their positions and they will break protocol and come running to Kantchenkamaal, that should confuse the elf forces still in the city. I will have my men reject whatever offers these mothfuckers give and start a forward assault within the next few days, try to get them in disarray so by the time the Kyran Army comes to Kantchenkamaal, they will be crushed and we can pull our forces to go further west. That sound good?"
Azkalon slowly nodded, "While I would prefer that my men stick close to me, I do want us to get out of this shithole soon enough. Alright, I will tell my men to start heading out, probably due south if the Asilic force tries to launch an assault from that direction. One question though: what about this bitch and her friends?" he stated, hitching his thumb in the direction of the interrogation room, Syll's screams still emanating out, "One, does she speak and understand Ilsien, and two, what should we do if the Kyran Army comes here and none of them have cracked yet?" The warlord simply stated, "These bastards are too 'high and mighty' to understand our 'infidel tongue,' plus I am fairly certain they barely understand Limba: I am having some of the men take them to the border, use them as bait if their friends just so happen to still be patrolling that stretch of the tunnels, then just leave them for dead - I am wasting rations on these cunts and they refuse to talk at all." Azkalon nodded, "Okay then, just make sure they actually do die so they do not tell anyone of what is going to happen," before walking off to tell his men. The warlord stepped back in, the raider interrogators finishing pouring the pus into Syll's open wounds, "Alright, dress the bitch up in the bandages and a new shirt, and take her back: the three are going to be of some final use to us, they will be going to the border."
Dragging Syll out of the room and back to the cell, the warlord opened the door, finding his men still beating Xyn and Alkrah, "YOU LIKE THAT, YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER?! YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT?!" the raider screamed, punching Xyn repeatedly in the face, one eye already swollen purple, blood pouring from his closed mouth and torn lip; Alkrah groaned, the bolts having been torn out of his flesh, the pus having been smeared over his mouth and nose, a puddle of vomit lying in front of him. "Hey! Bastard, you can stop with the beating there: some of the men brought a couple of priestesses and high-riders back from an excursion, why don't you go and enjoy yourself a little bit?" the warlord stated as Xyn's torturer pulled his fist away, nodded before spitting in Xyn's face and kicking him in the stomach, stepping out along with his compatriot. As Syll was tossed to the ground, eliciting another shriek of pain as a bolt pressed into her back, the warlord coughed loudly before speaking in Tēhnvzāh once more, "Listen closely: I have a change of heart here, so hear me out - it is now clear that none of you are wanting to talk with dear old me, sadly. Take heart, now: I have decided that your friends must miss the three of you dearly, so I am setting all of you free. One of my bands are going to retrieve some supplies at the border, they shall set you free once they have acquiesced the supplies. Take comfort that none of you will have to see my mug any longer," he said, chuckling as he called the men to take them out of the cell and onto a cart, the raid being planned.
Quijain, Day 6
The column had now approached one of the last rivers in Eastern Quijain, now close to the halfway mark of the meeting point with the Lexiduns. Alpha-Omega scouts had been increasing their scouting patrols, both to look for signs of civilization and of Żaren Iben-ta'Kyre. The snowfall was now more noticeable, cloudy skies covering the sapphire-blue skies that were mostly present when they initially entered. Tribes had been fought and exterminated, either placed in shackles and sent to the rear of the column back to Kyras or inducted into the Arban: many had chosen to take that, especially some of the tribes that did not resist, now looking to fight with their rivals. The commanders were stern as usual, their horses pushing through snow and steppe to their destination, some helping to lug the equipment used to ensure crossing over the rivers. To the surprise of many, few had died in Quijain, almost all in battle and some from the river. Several men, however, had gotten drunk on the third day and were yelling about starting a "bear cavalry" with the Arban and the region's bears: the ensuing maulings had killed the idea quickly, though some of the bears had been taken for later usage, being fed fish caught when crossing the rivers.
Kalċidon watched as the Alpha-Omega scouts returned, the snowfall coating all of them in the night's air as they returned, shaking their heads as he enquired about Żaren: Kyre had cursed behind them and retreated to the mess tent, calling for a pint of ale. His frustration over the lack of progress towards finding his son had been growing, especially as the trail seemingly went cold, the Quijain tribesmen caught not being affiliated with the one that had seemingly ambushed Żaren. Varist had kept his head cool and was continuously stressing the need for patience in tracking down the young man.
Shaking his own head, Kalċidon retired to his tent for the night, blowing the lantern out as he wrapped the bear's pelt around him, falling into a light slumber. Outside, the column was beginning to retire too, excluding the night watch patrolling each formation's camp: their duty was a thankless one, but one much appreciated, a few hundred keeping patrols to watch over the thousands of soldiers resting after a day of patrolling.
The flare shrieked across the sky as the first sounds of fighting began, the tube launching a rock coated in eternal flame, dyed red to gather attention through the rough fibers and skins of the tents. Kalċidon stirred as he heard shouting, Erin's voice coming over the din, "Somebody wake the Chancellor up: night ambush, a large tribe too! Several hundred it looks like: come on, men! Let's kill these bastards!" Grabbing his scabbard from the ground and the Long Bow next to it, Kalċidon pulled the twine back, nodding as he heard the familiar sound of the Bow's mechanism locking, sliding a bolt in.
Pulling the tent's flaps away, Kalċidon saw more flares as a large horde of Quijain tribesmen barreling towards them, still a mile away, "ERIN," Kalċidon shouted, the former turning to face Kalċidon, "Tell the men to form a firing line, do not fire until you can clearly see the eyes of these barbarians and their horses. Get some of the Geras to also build a grenade line, tell them to ignite when the bolts start flying!" Erin nodded, shouting to the 9th Guards, "YOU HEARD THE CHANCELLOR: 9TH GUARDS, 13TH GUARDS, GET THOSE LONG BOWS READY AND FORM A FIRING LINE, NOW! GERAS UNITS, BUILD A GRENADE LINE, 400 METERS: IGNITE THEM WHEN THE BOLTS START GOING! EVERYONE, FIRE WHEN YOU SEE THE WHITES OF THESE BARBARIANS' EYES!"
Kyre pulled his Bow out, positioning next to several of the 13th Guardsmen, "What the fuck are you doing, this is a military operation! Civilians cannot be here, you need to pull back to the camp, now!" One of them had protested as Kyre pulled the Bow's twine back, "SERGEANT, YOU WILL HOLD YOUR FUCKING TONGUE THIS INSTANT: I DID MY TIME TOO, I KNOW HOW THE FIRING LINE GOES, NOW GET BACK TO YOUR POSITION AND WAIT FOR THE DAMNED FIRING ORDER!" Kyre shouted, kneeling as he could see the horde barreling towards them, the Geras pulling back and falling into the depressions of the plains, hands already bathed in flame. Kalċidon pulled the telescope up, watching as the horde passed the half-mile mark, their hoarse shouting now echoing throughout the valley. "Alright, Erin! Fifteen seconds, sound off for firing!" Erin nodded, watching as they now came within range of the firing line, "FIRE NOW!"
The effective range of the bolts was far from able to reach the Quijain warband, but the familiar sound of the twine snapping and launching gave cause, the Geras units suddenly lifting up as the warband's men instinctively flinched from the apparent firing of bolts, the wall of flame being a meter high and rushing towards the individual grenades. The sand bombs were the first to ignite, the heat immediately breaking the brittle clay shells, the sand turning into shards of glass. The glass bombs came close after, shrapnel of glass and metal flying into the legs of the horses and the torsos of the Quijain warriors. As the shrieks echoed, Kalċidon yelled once more, "ARBAN, RUSH FORWARD, CORRAL THESE MEN TO THE FIRING LINE: ØKESADR, KRIEGSALDR, SWITCH TO PRIMARY ARMS - PULL BACK WHEN THEY COME CLOSE. EVERYONE ELSE, FALL BACK 50 METERS!"
As panic filled the warband's initial wave, the men behind pushed forward, aiming with their bows as they saw cavalry units deploy: the Arban began to fire, repeating crossbows aimed at the horses, the beasts panicking and beginning to rush forward to escape the rain of bolts, the Arban circling behind the warband. As they fell upon the line, the økesadr and kriegsaldr began to press their weapons into the dirt, the hardened earth giving purchase as they held the weapons up, the men falling back and pulling their Long Bows out once more - the warband rushed into the line, men falling off as the horses screamed in agony, joined by several of their masters as they could not avoid the line of weapons. The bolts were now in range, each individual line striking through the leather armor of each Quijain tribal that found himself unlucky enough to finally enter the fray. The rest of them dismounted, now intent on fighting back: Kalċidon saw them and gave the order, "Close combat now, men: end the fight, now!"
Kyre ducked as a tribal fell next to him, gagging as the bolt pressed into his throat: seeing one of the Guardsmen about to be struck down, Kyre rushed forward, slamming into the tribal before getting up and stabbing him with his sword, lifting the Guardsmen up in turn, "Get up, man: we still got more of them coming," he chuckled. Kalċidon dodged as one of the tribals swung his scimitar, rushing forward and punching the man in the face before impaling him upon the kriegsmesser: as he pulled the blade out, he saw Erin being tackled by a tribal, sword ready to strike. "ERIN!" Kalċidon shouted, grabbing a spear and throwing, impaling the man upon it: rushing forward, he grabbed Erin's arm, "Get up, son. Get up, godsdammit!" Pulling him up, Kalċidon pressed Erin's sword into the latter's hand, "Are you good to keep going?" Erin nodded, "Yes, but never call me that again, Chancellor." Shrugging it off, Kalċidon saw the warband finally collapse, the individual fighters now calling for a retreat. "Alright," Kalċidon shouted, "Men, the battle is won: the enemy flees from us. Pick up the wounded, administer rites, and treat your own wounds, in that order."
"Chancellor, Sir!" Varist called out, gesturing Kalċidon to draw closer, "This might be the tribe that attacked Żaren! Alpha-Omega caught a man, he was carrying the same ax Kyre's father wielded!" Gesturing Erin to follow, they saw Kyre viciously beating the man upon the ground, the Alpha-Omega scouts too stunned to pull the man off of the captive, one of them approaching Kalċidon and presenting a broken ax, the name "Redentur ak-Tarvas" faintly carved into the remnants of the handle. "WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS MY SON, YOU FUCKING ANIMAL?! IN THE NAME OF THE BLESSED MOTHER, YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW OR I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING ENTRAILS OUT!" Kyre roared as he continued to beat the man senseless, now heavily bruised and bleeding. "Kyre! Gods-sake, man, pull yourself together right now!" Varist said as he pulled the former off of the tribal, shaking him by the shoulders, "He will not be able to tell us anything if you beat him to death! Let him speak, then you can kill him." Kalċidon nodded, gently placing a hand on Kyre's shoulder, "He's right, Sir Kyre: let us gather what we can from him, then you can exact vengeance. Just calm down and let us speak to him first, okay?" Kyre nodded, his eyes watery in the campfire, "I understand, Sirs, I'll let you get what you can from this piece of shit," punctuating it with a hard kick to the man's torso, eliciting a rattling groan from the prone figure, before stepping back slightly.
Kalċidon nodded in thanks before calling Erin to his side, "Erin, I want you to bring one of the Quijain Arban here so he can translate what this man might give us." Erin nodded in turn, spotting one of them and calling him over, "Dear Sir, would you be privy as to gain some words from this man right here: he may have something important to us." The Arban nodded, kneeling to the man and speaking in his native tongue, the man giving a groan of defeat and agreeing to it, "He said he will tell us anything, just not to kill him." Kyre growled, causing the man to shrink back, Kalċidon simply saying, "Say that we agree to it: now, ask him where he managed to obtain the ax." The arban spoke, gesturing to the ax as the man spoke quietly, turning around and saying, "He and a scouting party took it after they fought with a boy near a cave some distance away: they killed the horse and broke the ax, but let the boy hide in the cave again, said that they were planning on finally killing him once they finished the raid here." Kyre spoke up, his voice hoarse with rage, "Ask that piece of shit what that boy looked like." The arban turned back, the man seemingly catching on as he stared at Kyre in complete fear, the arban stating, "He looked like you, though his eyes were green with gold flecks, said that one of his arms was on fire, the other still covered in blood from an arrow."
Kyre snarled in rage, lifting the man up and hissing, "Those survivors might be going back to kill my son: tell this fucker that he's taking us to that cave, right fucking now, or I will drag his ass from the back of my horse all the way there!" The arban nodded, the man tensing up before nodding profusely, saying something in-between, "He said that it will take half a day to reach the cave, probably longer because of the snowfall and it being nighttime." Kyre looked to Kalċidon, Erin, and Varist, stating, "Sirs, I may be breaking the law here, but I am finding my boy right now: I don't care if you execute me for dereliction of duty, but I am going to find him." Kalċidon stroked his beard, before stating, "I'll allow a reprieve here: allow Varist and I to join you in finding Żaren, we'll ride out within the half hour, have the column follow us as well. Erin, I want you to manage the affairs while I am away: if anything happens to the three of us, you stick to the Conquest and head to the meeting site with the Lexiduns, understood?" Erin nodded, "Just don't be gone too long: find the kid and get back here." Kalċidon turned back to Varist and Kyre, "Alright: let us gather some supplies and our horses - we are going to have to haul fast if we want to recover your son before that warband does."
L-Ewwel Tempju ta 'l-Għaqda tal-Ħajja
The Warrior looked in the mirror at her form, now covered in the robes that many of the Sisters here wore: she initially felt suffocated, besides the leather armor she had worn, she was always bare underneath, allowing freedom of movement and going with the customs that the tribe held. It had taken the Seer a while to convince her to take to it, some arguing soon giving way to an agreement: now she felt less suffocated and more itchy, despite the smoothness of the fibers in them. "It is velvet," a Sister replied in their tongue, occasionally breaking from teaching them Ilsien to get the point across, as they sat in the Gardens. "Vel-vet? What's that?" The Warrior asked, sitting crosslegged on the ground, feeling the soft earth and plant life on occasion, the Sister not even protesting over the fabric being stained, "It is fiber, we weave it using silk produced from moths," she explained, pulling a cage towards her, showing the small insect, covered in white integument, surprisingly adorable to both the Seer and the Warrior, who stroked the small beast, feeling it shiver and giggling when it reacted in turn, occasionally sitting on their fingers. "They mainly produce it when they go from being silkworms to this, so we keep a small farm of them within the complex, collecting the silk and sending it to a textile close to here: they spin the fibers and weave it into two layers." Standing up, the Warrior sheeplishly placed a hand to the back of her head, unintentionally stroking her now-long hair, "I must admit, it does feel nice, but I still prefer my armor." The Seer simply grabbed her wife's arm, stating "I apologize for her, she is just used to wearing that armor set for years now," she stated in broken Ilsien, the Sister nodded, "Looks like you've caught on to speaking Ilsien very well, though we still have some work to do for both of you."
A whistle broke through, a Palatine leaning on the entryway with a warm smile on her face, "Sister, looks like our guests are needed for a talk, you would not mind if I pulled them aside for a little bit?" The Sister shook her head, "Go right ahead, Palatine: I have to attend to the silkworms anyway, just tell them to go to the dining room after this, I still have some Ilsien lessons to teach the both of them." The Palatine chuckled, "I will, Sister, I will," before gesturing for the Scorched Ones to follow them, the two immediately getting up and following behind the Palatine as she spoke to them in their language, "I must say, the two of you have brought some much-needed life into this Temple, no pun intended," she chuckled as they passed through the halls, occasionally noticing a Temple of War Librarian passing through, "Ever since the Amalgamation Order, we've been matching our texts and core doctrine to reach further synergy with the Temple of War: a mostly solemn lot, if I do say so myself."
Stopping at the entryway to a particular room, the Palatine bowed slightly, "Just go right on ahead, she will want to speak to both of you about something important. I must take my leave now: remember to go to the dining room after this, Sister Marija will want to continue Ilsien lessons for the both of you." Both of them gave thanks as they opened the door, finding a surprisingly spacious room filled with scrolls and statues, some of the Mother in her nubile form, warmth and comfort radiating from them. At the end of the room sat the Sister of the Mother, finishing writing on one of the scrolls before looking up and stating, "Ah, I've been looking to speak with both of you. Come, sit down, we have some things to discuss." Both of them approached, eventually sitting in the padded chairs, relaxing as the Sister stated, "Oh, don't be so nervous, I don't bite. The both of you are not in any sort of trouble, it is just concerning a mission that must be conducted." The two cocked their heads, the Sister noting, "Looks like I have the attention of both of you: alright, before I say anything, I must ask, has life here in the Temple been good for the both of you?" They both nodded, the Seer stating, "It has: this is truly Paradise. My only regret is that our tribe could not experience this." Seeing her wife become downtrodden, the Warrior grasped her hand, gently assuring her before turning to the Sister, "It has been good: I especially like Sister Marija, she is very nice to the both of us."
The Sister shook her head in agreement, "I am glad to hear of it: we were worried that the two of you were not going to make it when the hertagsen brought you here, Sister Marija especially. Now, I must ask both of you: are you aware of the Grand Conquest currently being conducted?" Both shook their heads, looking on in confusion as the Sister stated, "Right, I figured as such. Anyways, not long after the two of you finally woke up, Chancellor Kalċidon received word that the nations of Calveria were to meet concerning a recent spike in activity concerning Yrutas, the god of corruption and one of the enemies to our Mother, Myratnis. Given that the end goal was only just relayed to us, we feel that we must send a delegation to this meeting that Kalċidon is attending, particularly concerning on how they will conduct any operations into the Magna Tabes, the region that Yrutas resides in: I am not asking for you to enter there, too much death is already guaranteed.
Rather, I am asking you to assist us: like I said, the Temple of Nature is sending a delegation to the meeting, attached with one of the reinforcements of the Kyran Army being sent there. The both of you will be joined by Sister Marija and will be led by my successor-designate, Librarian-Primeris Liena, to traverse into Quijain and meet with Kyran command. Additionally, I want for this group to begin discussions and talks with the nations of Titenfisca, Lexidus, and the Dual Kingdom of the Isles: the Lexiduns are easy to spot, they are majority human and will likely display the Mother in a more modest appearance. Similarly, the Dual Kingdom is said to follow a similar school of religious thought like the Lexiduns and appear to be majority-human as well, though they do host a species called the Locomati - they appear to have bluish or purple skin color and tend to be taller, like this sketch here," the Sister stated as she pulled out a colored sketch made by one of the Roaming Merchants, "The Titenfiscans, meanwhile, are far more liberal and open in their interpretation, sexual acts are said to be common in religious affairs, though the Merchants that reported that were going by vague details at the time: what can be said is that the Titenfiscans are primarily composed of a species called the Squidspawn, as covered in this sketch as well," pulling another one that resembled that of Helena Lake, the ruler of Titenfisca, "You won't be able to miss them, they tend to be shorter than the average human, so for the love of the Mother, please do not bend down to talk to them.
We're primarily doing this to smooth any potential cracks in relations, Kalċidon has stated he wants to pursue some sort of economic agreement with the nations of Central Calveria, Veritious, Asil, and some kingdom to the far west that just recently broke isolation being the most prospective. As such, I want this to assure the rest of Calveria that Kyras is willing to agree in normalizing international relations, especially after all these millennia being isolated in civil wars and the like. The two of you do not have to go, I am only asking if you are interested with coming along with this delegation. If you need time to think it over, go ahead, though I would like a response just before the first of the reinforcements leave for Talas in three days time." Both of them mulled it over before they both spoke at the same time, "We are willing to come along." The Sister beamed as she stated, "Excellent, I will have Sister Marija inform you further on what the two of you will do at the meeting. The two of you are free to go if neither of you has any questions, just remember that the both of you will leave within the next day or two to be able to join the reinforcements."
The two nodded and stated, "We will wait to see if Sister Marija has anything to say, thank you, dear Sister." The Sister nodded in turn, "May the Mother watch over both of you." As they exited the room and began to walk to the dining room, the Warrior stated, "I am curious as to what our role in this will be." The Seer shrugged, "I have no idea as well, but as long as Sister Marija is with us, I think we will be alright." The Warrior paused, the Seer taking notice, "Is something wrong?" The Warrior shook her head, though she averted her eyes and kicked the ground before quietly stating, "Just in case anything goes wrong when we leave, do you think we can show our love for each other tonight?" Noticing her wife blushing, the Seer giggled before walking over and quietly patting the Warrior's shoulder, "I have been waiting for you to say that for a while now, I was a bit scared that after everything, you would not want to do that with me again." The Warrior shook her head, "I'm sorry that I made you scared, do you want to take the lead tonight?" The Seer simply kissed the Warrior and whispered, "I do," before tugging her arm slightly, gesturing for her to continue going to the dining room.
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Post by Au Minbo on Jan 4, 2019 21:02:16 GMT -5
King Hato VIII Omo, Near “Savage” Island
Beckoning one of his sailors forward, the King spoke to him briefly.
“They have offered us maps and tomes on their nation. I want you to direct them to bring these things to my quarters. They can be put anywhere in there, wherever there is space.”
The sailor bowed, replied, “As you wish your majesty,” and stood back from the King.
Looking back towards the foreigners, he thought for a moment about these two and the implications of this meeting. Speaking up once again, this time directed to the Lexiduns.
“I thank you for these, gifts. This man,” indicating the sailor next to him, “will show your people where to bring them. In exchange I have gifts of mine own.” Waving his hand again, a sailor stepped forward carrying a large book.
“First, a copy of my people's holy scripture. On the left pages you will find the language of my people, and on the right its translation into this language we now speak. I had it commissioned before I left my home and it contains many, hm, art pages detailing its history.”
At this the first sailor stepped back and another forward, carrying a statue half a meter tall.
“Secondly I bring a statue of my ancestor out first King. Carved from local marble it was made 42 years ago during the reign of my grandfather.”
As the sailor carrying the statue set it down for them to admire, the next sailor moved ahead.
“Finally I bring you two chronicles of my people's history. They detail our flight from our homeland to our new Kingdom and beyond. There are appropriate maps contained in each detailing information on my kingdom.”
Looking back he realizes he missed a gift. Turning back around to the foreigners he smiled at them and began in earnest once again.
“My mistake, there is one final gift. A bushel of fresh lemons from my own personal grove.” With that the presentation of gifts was complete and the King had decided to move on to the next topic. Addressing the woman this time, a Ruby Hollins, he looked at her kindly, thankful for the respect that she had shown to him thus far. “Trade, as with many things, can be the gateway to friendship. We as well have commodities that I am sure my countrymen would love to trade with.”
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Post by axeldonia on Jan 5, 2019 20:03:39 GMT -5
Mündungshafen, Titenfisca
The sleek black surface of the water reflected the faint glimmer of the city along with the twinkling stars in the sky, giving the night an almost festive feeling. The city was still awake, after all. A warm ocean breeze whirled through the canals and cobbled sidewalks, making Helena’s glittering red dress to flutter, mimicking the waves crashing against the beach on a sunny day.
“You look stunning in that, y’know?”
Helena turned around to find that Katia, dressed in a tight-fitted cyan vest, brown pants and a top hat had snuck up behind her, arm intertwined with Friedrich, himself dressed in a pair of skintight shorts and top, both shimmering green and wavy in a pattern resembling seaweed.
“You made it!”
Helena smiled, skittering over and giving her partners a big hug.
“Of course we made it, silly. It’s been so long since we’ve been together like this.”
Helena gleefully grasped Katia’s hand as the three made their way inside the establishment, the music already in full swing. Unusually, the bar was stocked full with alcohol but lacked pufferfish essence entirely, a compromise to accommodate the difference in tolerance between the different attendants. A few Squids getting wasted was better than someone ending up dead rushed to a healer after all. The dance floor was packed with squids, snakes, kobolds, spiders and moths all dancing together in an almost synchronized fashion, careful not to bump into each other but still executing complicated dances to great amusement.
“Wait, I barely see any Frougen.”
Helena raised a concerned eyebrow.
“Did they decide against attending?”
“Erm, Helena? The tables.”
Helena looked over at the group of tables between the dance floor and the bar in confusion, finding several Frougen with small clusters of Squids and Snakes around them.
“Huh? What are they-”
Helena grew mesmerized as one of the Frougen dropped a small cherry into a deep glass of alcohol. She then promptly brought it up to her lips, letting her long tongue slide down into the glass and wrap around the cherry, bringing it into her mouth with ease.
“O-Oh!”
Friedrich chuckled at Helena’s reaction.
“Have you not heard the rumours? Allegedly the morale of dockworkers have risen 30% ever since the Frougen delegation laid anchor in the harbour.”
Helena simply nodded in response.
*
“They sure are having a great time, Huh?”
Gano absentmindedly sipped his drink as he sat the corner of the establishment, Zabaa’s head nestled deep into the fur on his shoulder.
“Mmm… I’m glad to hear.”
“Yeah. I was a bit worried, but they’re fitting in surprisingly well.”
Gano sighed contently
“Excuse me for a second.”
Gano gently got up, disappearing into the large crowd and making his way to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him with a nervous sigh and reached into his cloak, revealing a brilliant yellow rose. He gasped as he inspected it however, finding that some sort of infection had coated the petals on the other side. Defeated, he turned around to throw it out the window, only to find himself staring at a paralyze Squidspawn dressed in dark, robe like clothing decorated with green ribbons straddling the windowsill.
“U-Um… What are you-”
The Squidspawned grinned awkwardly.
“I was just, uh... just stretching my calves on the windowsill. Isometric exercise! Care to join me?”
“Are those… Fangs?”
“Uhh... no! It’s an… Allergic reaction. From all the scales.”
“Oh.”
Gano turned around to exit the bathroom before promptly swinging back around, eliciting an eep from the Squidspawn.
“Wait, this is the Kouleva Bathroom!”
The Squidspawn sighed, climbing down from the windowsill.
“Listen, you seem to be upset about something and I need to get into the party. I’m sure I can do something to cheer you up in exchange for you keeping your mouth shut, right?”
When Gano returned to Zabaa she had all but fallen asleep, somehow unaffected by all the commotion around her. He sat down next to her, nudging her awake.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
He smiled, placing a hand on her cheek as he gently held the yellow rose towards her, now looking as fresh as if it had just been plucked straight from the soil.
“This may be a bit sudden, but I wanted to give you this. It’s a way to show someone our love and commitment to them back home. I know we’ve barely been together two weeks, but I feel like I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He smiled sheepishly, his heart beating out of his chest. Zabaa gently grasped the flower, smiling from ear to ear herself.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Somewhere in southern Lexidus
Yep, she was lost. Angerid growled in frustration, draping her map across the flat stone in front of her and traced with her fingers in a futile attempt to find her way. She was here to measure up land for someone’s inheritance, but she couldn’t even find her way there in the first place? Sometimes she really wondered why Lexiduns went through all this trouble of claiming things purely for the sake of it. Surely, there was no culture stricter about these things than them. Finding no luck with the map, Angerid simply shoved the map back into her backpack, measuring the sun. It was further west, that much she knew.
Somewhere in southern Calveria
The prison was dead quiet, save for the occasional sound of drops colliding with the cobbled floor of the jail cell corridor. Oskar silently added another day to the calendar he had made out of chalk lines on the prison wall, sighing as he longingly stared out of prison. Would the others loom for him? Would they even notice if he was gone? He shook his head. Now was not the time for such dismal thoughts. He cast a worried glance into the cell opposite his, where the catgirl he saved was now sleeping uneasily. Well, at least she was safe.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jan 10, 2019 14:11:30 GMT -5
High Admiral Hunter Macleish, Near Savage Island- Dominion of the South East Caldives
"Capital!" erupted Ruby as the High Admiral beckoned his sailors to accept the gifts and make their way back to the capitol ship. It was looking good so far. He was beginning to get the impression that if he ever wanted a change in position, he'd make a good ambassador.
"We Lexiduns pride ourselves with our trade goods and commodities. Exotic furs, alcohol, minerals, jewellery, gold and much more! With your permission your highness, we can begin trade immediately between our two countries and allow our friendship to flourish!" Ruby's merchant training had kicked in like a second nature, the hand waving being integral to the pitch, from commoners to royalty. It didn't matter what or who you were selling to, the pitch was always the same.
Hunter examined the bright yellow fruit. He had never seen anything like it before, he wondered what it would taste like, preferably in an alcoholic beverage. He turned his attention to King Hato, smiling widely.
"We shall make haste to inform our king of your friendship and generosity. I'm sure the Empire of Lexidus and the Kingdom of Kanso-Oromi will have a prosperous and cooperative relationship." He gave another deep bow, signalling politely their intention of parting ways, waiting for the king to respond to Ruby's offer on behalf of the Merchant Association of Lexidus.
King Blair de Brus, Blair's Chambers - Camelon Castle
He had awkwardly been sitting on his bed for over an hour now, his gray tunic still damp with sweat from another nightmare the night before, the daylight bleeding in through the window doing very little to assuage his nervousness. Grand Magister Griffon had been muttering incantations under her breath and been flicking through various books. Occasionally she would wave her hand in Blair's direction and he would feel a cooling sensation flow through him, swirling inside him and then dissipate, this was usually followed by her furrowing her face. She was getting nowhere.
"Be honest with me Magister." He croaked as he tried to wipe away sweat from his brow, only to find nothing, a side-effect of Myratnis' magic on a human. "Am I insane?"
Haylee Griffon, now sole Grand Magister of the Mages of Myratnis since Drake's death, looked at her king with apprehension. She sat opposite him on a wooden chair by Blair's desk, her various tomes pilled high on top of it. She leaned forward clasping her hands together between her knees. "I honestly don't know my king." Her voice matched her expression, one of skittishness and confusion. "Where one might find corruption through the usage of a cleansing spell, I find nothing in your being but the light of our lady." She furrowed her brow deeper. "There is something odd however..."
"Odd how?"
"I find an absence in your being my liege."
Blair scoffed, lifting himself and beginning to pace around the room, his hands on his hips.
"One might find this absence in someone's entire being if they do not follow the way of the mother. Not in pieces however." She clearly wanted to say something but was holding back. Blair recognised this.
"Say what you're going to say Griffon." He stared at her, desperation clawing at him from within.
She brushed back her auburn hair, her signature ponytail being absent. "Do you doubt Myratnis Blair?"
He wanted to scream. Who gave a horse's ass about the gods? Why was he being tormented so? He contained his rage when he noted a shadowy figure begin to form in the corner of the room, he quickly averted his gaze, trying to keep his cool. "I doubt my sanity Griffon, why do I see a wraith and what have the gods got to do with it? If anything?" Blair shook his head. He could feel his anxiety skyrocketing, he kept his gaze away from the corner of room, the figure was surely there.
"Myratnis has been waning, I will admit that to you Blair." She used his first name sparingly, he did not want to agitate him. To her surprise however, she found this actually somewhat calmed him. "With her influence fading and the... rising of opposing temples. I was merely trying to understand your feelings and place of being."
She was referring to the Temple of Zpynac's recent formation by eastern chiefs in Lexidus in response to Yrutan siege some months ago. Zypnac worship was on the rise since the Rohzai's intervention, whilst in the west Myratnis worship was being emboldened. He found himself growing angry again. More division.
"My being and feelings are that people don't understand the threat we face and are flocking to places of worship, instead of rallying together." He froze, the wraith had appeared behind griffon, between her and the door.
Griffon noticed his change in stature and looked behind herself. Slowly turning back to look her king in the eye. "She's in this room with us now isn't she?" she stated, her blue eyes locking with Blair's own. He was glancing back and forth, growing steadily more and more agitated. "She's not real Blair, whoever the wraith is, she isn't Eimear. Look at me. Breathe."
He complied, the wraith stayed in his peripheral vision. He closed his eyes and breathed, letting the Magister's words soothe him. Breathe in, count to 3, exhale. He opened his eyes. It was just them, the wraith was gone, he felt his body relax.
"The wraith appears when you grow agitated or despairing Blair. I don't believe this to be an issue of the soul but of the mind." She straightened herself up. "I'll need to do more tests but at least we may have found a way to keep the wraith at bay."
For the first time in a while, he felt genuine relief, normality almost. "...good, do what you must."
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