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Post by Lex Caledonia on Feb 22, 2019 17:44:36 GMT -5
Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, No Man's Land - Quijain
General Lewis gave another thunderous laugh, a joyful smile never leaving his face. "100,000 of the finest warriors in all of Calveria AND another blessed weapon and its wielder? Yrutas doesn't stand a bloody chance!" he guffawed, almost making a show to his men, who replied in kind with chuckles of their own. "Ah, where are my manners, of course! This fine young lad here is Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, champion of the Winter War and my ward!"
He felt another armoured pat on his back, his training kicking in, we straightened up and saluted the Kyrans in front of him. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintances sirs."
Dunsley couldn't help but stare at Żaren, the man had mere seconds ago been on fire, his godly weapon making soldiers gasp in awe as well as horror. Dunsley couldn't help but notice a theme. The Rohzai who broke the siege in Camelon, he too was imbued with a god's blessing, Zypnac. Now another of god's chosen, Rigma he think it was, allied themselves with the cause. It gave Dunsley pause at just how monumental this crusading alliance could be... or just how dire their fight against Yrutas was about to be.
He was jolted back to reality with another pat on the back from the General, his booming voice assuaging his fears, for now.
"This man landed on the shores of Yola's Landing, marched through miles of snowy tundra and then took on the Asakorian Usurper himself as a tower fell around him, survived the fall with a naught but a broken arm and then rejected retirement to be by my side! This man is the Lexidun standard your men shall be fighting along side with when we march on the Tabes."
Dunsley never did report that throughout his ordeal up north, he had to protect the then unknown Princess of Lexidus, his one on one chat with Blair on the ship home assured his silence. He missed her, he really aught to ask if he could see her from time to time.
"Ah speaking of marching!" boomed the General. "Here come the Titenfiscans! Kalċidon, if you and your entourage were to follow me, we shall make haste to the command tent and start preliminary discussions before my King arrives tomorrow. You're free to set up camp where ever is most convenient and appropriate. I shall introduce you to our squidspawn allies!"
Dunsley turned and observed the colourful Titenfiscan mercenaries that made their way to the meeting point, their camp already set up in a matter of minutes and singing already beginning. He noticed the Lexidun soldiers, whose eyes were darting from their own camp to the Kyrans, nervous expressions being very prominent at the foreigners setting up near them. This nervousness dissipated as they heard the familiar gurgling and laughter from the Titenfiscans, soon some soldiers were talking and even shaking the hands of the Kyrans. Offering rations and alcohol to their new allies.
"Come along Sergeant, we've got a war to plan!"
King Blair de Brus, Main Hall - Camelon Castle
He held her for a bit longer than he would have permitted himself beforehand, he felt genuine joy for this first time in a long while, the barely managed fog that enveloped him from within dissipated for just one brief moment. Maybe he was going to be OK after all, he wondered to himself, before giving a polite chuckle and a cough at Helena's condolences.
"She was the best of us... and I promise everyone, yourself included, that we'll never let Yrutas take from us ever again." He gave his best stoic expression and straightened up. "Plan we shall indeed Prime Minister! I was just about to set off to the meeting point! Let us travel together and meet with the rest of Calveria and show that the West means business shall we?" He gave a reassuring smile back, the fog returning to him, he didn't care.
Donn Myra, Somewhere in the Underdark - Lexidus
"Fuck." That was one word that was shared between Celtmaric and Common, much to Myra's interest when learning to read. She had only been scuffed by an infernal creature but the disinfectant she poured on the small gash on her shoulder proved far more bothersome painful. The creature lay dead next to her as she sat on a rock, cleaning the wound and then sewing her leather sleeve back together, she swore that she had more scars on her arms than anywhere else on her body. Her armour having a studded leather design with the torso and other vital arterial areas protected by segmented metal plates that were small squares sewn into the leather. It was a good design but she kicked herself time and time again when she got slashed on the not as protected sleeves. The creature was a Bauchan, a small but powerful creature that stalked the underdark and even the fringes of the various undercities, they seldom attacked outright unless in a pack. It resembled a goblin but with gray skin and beady black eyes the size of fists. This one fought her on its own, clearly out of fear, rather than hunger. They would usually catch travellers unaware and let them bleed out before finishing them, this one had no such tactic. Yrutas' influence now filled the underdark and was wrecking havoc with the wildlife down here, it made traversal surprisingly easy, Myra had only need to listen for signs of struggle and fighting to know which areas to avoid or give a wide berth.
She had volunteered to make the trek alone, talking to Crowley who almost seemed fed up as she regaled her princess' command, he just waved a hand and said he would dispatch an excavation crew once as Myra found the Underkeep. Despite his dedication to work, Crowley clearly was affected by the recent events and Myra had seen that weakness momentarily. She gave him no more bother and set off. She was now somewhere approximately under Loness, she didn't have much to go on aside from memory and old unfamiliar maps. The job of navigating in the underdark wasn't taught to the Donn but rather the Dubh, whilst Myra was a protector and would sometimes scout ahead, she would usually always be by her king's side whilst the Dubh would carry their own maps of the Underkeep and its tunnels. She never learned of their true purpose, officially they were navigators as well as enforcers but their attack on her and their attempts to take Leana away from her after King Petre's death cast doubt upon her. She had heard a rumour along time ago from her fellow Donn that they were assassins of the king and would kill wondering underdark travellers and dissenters within their "family". Days later after telling Myra this, her fellow Donn was found dead with his throat cut open in a tunnel. He was marked as being killed by the creatures and mutants in the underdark, Myra knew that it was far too clean a cut for an animal's claw, she quickly threw that thought away and continued on with her life.
Oh what a fool she was trying to put all those thoughts away like that, letting herself blindly devote herself to her king so that she wouldn't let rage consume her, how ignorant she made herself. They would have killed her sure but at least she would be with... her again. She shook her head as she scanned a small piece of parchment. She had taken it off the Dubh that jumped her in the tavern many months ago, they ran off when she gave them a good hiding. It detailed the surrounding tunnels near the underkeep but not actually their location in relation to the rest of the land. So now she did her best to trace her footsteps from whence she fled after the commune's flight from the underkeep. Before long, she found a familiar tunnel, a very familiar tunnel in fact. One reeking of death and destruction, as she ran silently for another couple of minutes, she found what she was dreading. A skeleton, its bone's mangled and bloodied robes mere dried tatters all around it. A dented and dull gold crown resting by it, a creature having attempting to chew on it before giving up, a gem stone missing from its central piece. The skeleton of her king, Petre the Eternal. She almost fell to her knees but stopped herself, two emotions clawing within her heart. Of sorrow and rage, she picked up its skull and stared at it through her helmet, her king oh her poor king. She pressed it against where her forehead would be, the bone making a dull thud as it met with her helmet. He was so kind to them all, he loved all of them. The rage began to grow. He killed her, he killed her with his obsession, he killed so many of them to get what he wanted. He was so kind though when she entered their world. Stop lying to yourself you damn coward, he did horrendous things before her existence, he was a monster. He took me in and care for me. He abused you and killed her. The rage engulfed the sorrow and Myra found herself shaking, the dam of memories swelling to burst. He made you stand right outside and listen to her give birth and die, the one person who cared about you and he made you listen to her die!
She let her conditioning go and screamed at the top of her longs, squeezing the skull in between her hands and crushing it, the fragments of bone clattering everywhere in the claustrophobic tunnel that was now the tomb of King Petre. She stood there panting, letting the tears fall inside her helmet and escape through her neck, she didn't wipe them, instead picking up the dented crown and pocketing it wordlessly. Making her way further into the now familiar tunnels. Before long, she reached the chasm and her breathing had subsided. The Underkeep lingered in the darkness, its torches long extinguished and the place dead quiet. Various skeletons littered the place, not a strip of rotted flesh between them, the commune had all but perished in the attack. She didn't care for any of them, none of them, they would all be forgotten if she had her way right now. Donn Myra almost mechanically wondered into the keep, keeping her footsteps quiet but her figure steady. She could hear it, faintly but prominently. It was familiar to her, whenever she would patrol the keep at night, she could hear it trickling in the silence of the night. It filled her with disgust but she put it to the back of her mind. This time however, she didn't let her conditioning trick her, she let the sound disgust her as she drew closer and closer to its source. The black and crude stone of the keep, swirling around her and the darkness. Opening a wooden door, she wandered towards her goal, a faint blue glow dominating the room. The room was bare. Since Leana's birth, the horrific operating table was taken out alongside various potions and magical runes utilised in the abominable rituals conducted in here. Now only the fountain remained. It was of smooth light gray stone, unlike the rest of the underkeep's dark construction. A figure of robed woman, her arms lowered and holding a bowl whilst looking down. Tears streamed from her eyes and hands into a basin below, the basin itself being engraved with various wildlife such as various land and sea creatures.
It was beautiful but not to Myra. She clenched her leather gloved fists as hard as she could, the sound enveloping her, a slow and eternal trickle. There was a hammer on the ground, Myra picked it up with her iron grip and felt a rage she had not felt in quite sometime. Petre was dead but this... THING, lay untouched. The catalyst of Nissia's destruction and Petre's evil. If she were to destroy it now, no one would be hurt again by it, no one would go what she went through. She raised the hammer and approached...but stopped. A memory flashed though her mind, of a toddler being cradled by the Tiodhlac, her face pale and fever high. She was coughing and crying in pain, Petre wiped her brow and Myra was by his side. "It's a side affect from the imbument from her birth my liege. She will live longer than most of us I'm sure, even yourself due to her attunement with the fountain but she'll only be healed by it and it alone. A cut will heal fine, inhumanly fast I might add, but a disease or virus will not. She'll grow stronger sure but she'll need the fountain to build that strength up." The mage's words ringed in her ears alongside the trickle "...she's worth it... she's worth everything" replied the king, Myra looking at the suffering bairn and for the first time since Nissia's death, beginning to deeply care for the girl. Her contempt disappearing not out of conditioning but rather due to a feeling she hadn't felt since she was with Nissia. Love.
She dropped the hammer and let herself fall to her knees, taking her helmet off and crying. This fountain, this monstrous thing, the symbol of her suffering. It was the last thing she had put at the back of her mind a long time ago. It was in fact instrumental to the only person she cared for anymore. A child she once loathed and detested but grew to love in her own way. The only thing she had left of Nissia. "Fuck you... Fuck you damn font..." she knelt there for quite sometime. Nissia's face and Leana's haunting her, she finally wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. She threw away her helmet, letting it loudly clatter next to her. For the first time in her life, Myra let herself be free and make her own choice rather than having it be decided for her. She was decided, she was returning this font for the once person she cared about and loved. She wouldn't let the Donn inside her hide thoughts to the back of her head, she would no longer hide behind the helmet and the symbol it represented. She was Myra, just Myra and she would be devoted to her princess. She would be her guardian and her sword, her light and her might, her decision maker and doer. She would be Myra.
Her mapping of the area took a while as well as her trip to the Loness Undercity, where a detachment of guards and excavation workers were waiting. Before long workers of both the city of Bluxa and Merchant Association of Lexidus set about the Underkeep, probably the first time surface dwellers had seen the area in over a millennia. The fountain would be set to arrive in Camelon in a few days. Myra made her way to her new home, leaving behind her helmet and her suffering behind. She would abandon the name Donn and take on the new one when she would return home. Royal Protector Myra of Princess Leanabh's Command. That had a nice ring to it for sure.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Feb 24, 2019 3:41:01 GMT -5
Lexidun Encampment
"Then you have set a fine standard if all of your soldiers are as similar and unwavering in their duties as Sergeant Hovis, General," Kalċidon stated, giving a nod and salute to the man, joined by Varist and Kyre: Żaren, meanwhile, simply gave a nod, uncertain as to follow in the other men in their gestures, '17 standard years old and I have already traveled more in terms of distance than most privates in the Army,' he thought, wincing slightly as he noticed the Lexidun soldiers seemingly react in both awe and fear, noticing Dunsley staring at him, 'Is it even a surprise that they are staring at me like I am a monster? I can summon flames and use an ax that can chop limbs clean off, of course they would stare.'
Kyre seemingly took notice and simply grabbed Żaren's free hand, squeezing it slightly as if telling him he would be there, 'Fuck, I forgot about how things will be with Father now: he is not going to simply back away at me going to battle, but he won't be able to keep up with me,' Żaren thought in worry, only tuning back to reality when he heard Kalċidon state, "Very well, General, let us make haste and discuss what we can before King de Brus arrives: men, we will set up camp once we have concluded talks for the day - General, I would like to hear what the Lexiduns and Titenfiscans can provide in the upcoming campaign."
Kyre gestured, "I am guessing, Sir, that we simply place our equipment here for now and fully set up later?" Kalċidon nodded, "We will have plenty of time to strike the tents when we conclude today's talks." Kyre nodded, gesturing for Żaren to place his equipment down: the latter nodded, though he kept the ax upon his back as he set what he still carried down onto a patch of ground near the horses, which Varist moved to hitch. As Varist gathered the horses, Żaren noticed that the Lexiduns looked nervously at them, finally deciding to talk about it.
"Father, the Lexiduns are staring at us." Kyre looked up, taking a polite glance at the soldiers that were closest to them, shrugging, "Well, son, it should be expected: we're the first representatives of the eastern nations to meet with them, of course they would be somewhat nervous to see us." Żaren shook his head, "Not that, Father: I mean, these men are staring like we are five seconds from killing them, and some of them are looking at me in a similar manner, even Sergeant Hovis." Now Kyre looked up, his face wrapped in a stern, but paternal aura, "Żaren, if any of these men start to exclude or do anything that makes you feel uneasy, you tell me immediately: we may be a foreign envoy, but damn it, you are my son and I will make sure they understand I will not stand by and let my son feel in danger." Żaren groaned, "Father, I am 17 standard years, I am certain I can handle these men if they try to do anything physical." Kyre retorted back, "That may be, but you are my son and that should serve enough to show how much I will do to keep you safe."
Żaren bit his lip, not wanting to drag the conversation into them discussing about the upcoming battle: fate, as it would, gave him the excuse as Varist walked back, looking off in the distance, "Kyre, Żaren, are you seeing what I am seeing?" Both men looked in the direction, only to immediately be gobsmacked as they saw what looked like several humans in colorful garb, being led in song by what looked to be a....
"Squid?" Both men stated in Ilsien, trying to stay polite as they saw a small squidlike being walking around in a reb tabard, carrying a small guitar and singing a rather dark song about somebody dying and suffering various grave injustices. Kalċidon took notice, at the same time that Lewis, Dunsley, and the Lexidun soldiers close to them took notice as well, Kalċidon simply stating to his men, "Take heart, men: the beings you look upon are the Titenfiscans, presumably part of the mercenary forces that they hire in place of their standard army.
Varist looked over, remarking in Ilsien, "Mercenaries, what? Can't they just standardize their force instead of paying them?" Kalċidon shrugged, having looked up the Merchant reports in the initial six-day stretch before they had ridden to look for Żaren, "From what I have gathered, the mercenary companies are, in fact, standardized in terms of equipment, plus they are human-dominated: the Squidspawn, the small creatures you see, are not necessarily well-gifted in the art of war and their population numbers are too small to necessarily contribute to a large army. The companies, meanwhile, tend to be human-majority and are loyal to Titenfisca, presumably since most of them are led by Lexidun descendants - it is a part of a special relationship the two countries share. The only contention that should be noted, however, is the fact that one of the companies hired is known as the Lexidun 1st Free Company - they happen to be Lexidun republicans and the military arm of the Lexidun Republican Movement hosted in Titenfisca."
Varist cocked his head, confusion etched across his face, "The Lexiduns are allied with the Titenfiscans, yet the Titenfiscans host a company and political movement calling for the overthrow of the Lexidun Kingdom? How does that make any sense?" Kalċidon replied back, a deadpan look on his face, "Because they happen to still be a mercenary company that can be bought off to not harm the Lexidun state - that is actually the reason why the 1st Free Company has not simply attacked their monarchist brethren. Nevertheless, I can see where you are coming from - while we are a republic, we are not revolutionary in our way of thinking and simply let them decide on what they want. Despite that, I still find the Titenfiscans to be an odd people - franchisement is enshrined, the civil and merchant populations run the country, and elections for their legislature is common." Varist looked on, disgust spread across his face as he glanced over at the Titenfiscans, who were now freely chatting with the Lexiduns, Kalċidon tacking on, "Just do not get into a discussion on slavery or servitude with them: both Lexidus and Titenfisca have strict laws and even stricter views on that sort of thing, opposite of us."
Before anyone could react, they noticed that the Lexiduns were now approaching them, beginning small talk or even shaking hands with them, Żaren, in particular, looking in surprise as several of the soldiers who had earlier reacted in worry at him now shaking his hands, several giving him rations and alcohol. Kyre simply laughed as he talked with several of the soldiers, "Looks like we are in good company, I must offer bread and salt for all of you once the rest of my people arrive here," additionally giving Żaren a nod of approval for him to partake in the alcohol that the Lexiduns gave to him. All four men gave thanks as they walked over to Lewis's tent, their stomachs appreciative of having been given filling food after six days of traversing the steppes with little to go by.
Later that night
The talks had concluded for the day, the night sky now shining brilliantly above them as the four sat close by to Lewis and Hovis, their tents having already been struck and the men enjoying their meals. Kyre and Żaren were sitting close to one another, the latter worn out following a training session against both Kyre and Varist: blessed warrior and potential messiah aside, the three men recognized that Żaren would need as much training as possible, especially for a farmhand that had no military training. While Żaren was able to augment his strikes with additional strength, mainly derived from years of farmwork and handling trees, and the fire served as an additional means of defense; he lacked skill once someone could actually block his strikes, lacked a specific form to his fighting, and dealing with two veteran fighters proved to be much harder to do. Still, both men made it clear to Żaren that he could catch up easily, especially considering that he had seen combat before.
Żaren had leaned up against Kyre, occasionally sipping from some mead, feeling his body relax from the day's activities. Close by, Varist was analyzing the information that they had been given during the day, leaning over and writing in a small blank journal he had, reaching over and sipping on some Bluxa whiskey that was offered earlier. Kalċidon, meanwhile, was operating in a similar manner, instead choosing to look over the various journals, letters, and reports that the Roaming Merchants had given him over the past decades, writing in his journal.
The journal was worn, most of its pages having his various musings, but the last several pages had a mark running lose to the spine: an indication to cut them out of the journal. In it, he had decided to chart out what he could gather about the political realities in Titenfisca and Lexidus: the former, he noted with some disdain, had a heavy focus on radical republicanism, to lessen the divides of the social classes and give powers to the commoners rather than a select class of citizenry, and their opposition to monarchy was prevalent. Lexidus, on the other hand, was rapidly changing in the last three months: the Winter War, as one of the names of the Cold War, was between the Northern Alliance and Asakor, the latter having undergone a coup by one of the government's advisors - as far as he knew, the previous leader returned to power and executed the sniveling fool, but made concessions including the cession of Yola's Landing to Lexidus. That, he noted, was just the start of Lexidun expansion: the Lexidus Expeditionary Company, joined by the Royal Navy, were charting out and expanding southwards, joined by Titenfisca in that regard.
Additionally, reforms were being enacted on the Lexidun nobility, limiting land holdings and reducing their control on the economy. 'So basically the same thing we did 2,100 years ago, yet they haven't chosen to simply make an example of them,' Kalċidon mused, recalling the Great Culling, or the slaughter of the high-riders, mainly by the newly-formed Phylakes: he recalled the sketches that showed the heads of various high-riders stacked in Varan, 'Over 5,000 killed in a single day, and that crippled what remained of the post-Tekkan aristocracy.' He gave a brief but warm smile as he recalled that, before glancing back at the journal, 'I imagine Lexidus could do the same at a smaller number, just execute a few out of those gathered and make it clear what would happen if they continue to persist. If not, he may be looking at outright rebellion or even a civil war.' Dipping the quill back into the ink, he wondered, 'Rapid expansionism, declaration of imperium, growing the military, maintaining a regional alliance, and limiting the powers of the nobility. I say that's worthy enough at charting a political theorum - now I wonder how we will fare when we meet tomorrow: the Young King of Lexidus and the Old Chancellor of Kyras.'
After wondering, he finally decided on a name or two, 'Blairism sounds nice, along with Bruceism should the practice continue with his successors and/or descendants. Interventionism and empowering the commoners over the nobility seem to be the focal points, opposite to us: gather our strength by eliminating the weaker vestiges of our society and maintain the current commonwealth of soldiers. If I had an unhealthy enough ego, I would probably end up naming my own political theorum, but there's not much to go by on my end.' Shrugging, he let the ink dry before closing the journal shut for the day, listening in as Kyre mentioned his heritage, "My mother's side is rather off: from what I can tell, her grandmother was from Abel and met Tarvas, my Pa's father, while he was working as a security detachment for a Roaming Merchant, all the while he was an augmentee for the Republican Navy under the 13th Red Mariners. After they returned home, apparently he reported the Merchant to the Phylakes for moral corruption, they booted him, and ownership of the Merchant's Writ of Trade was passed onto him. When Pa inherited it, he asked that they give it to one of his Kotek comrades, the latter was apparently too injured to continue service and he did not seem capable of maintaining any physical work - the last I heard from the Guardsman's descendants, they were working at Kep'l Merta, chartering supplies to the monastery there."
As Kyre began to drink some Bluxa whiskey, they suddenly noticed the red light shining against the stars: all four stood up as they suddenly realized what it meant - Erin and the initial wave had arrived. Standing up, Kalċidon began to run forward, putting on his armor and grabbing the hilt of his kriegsmesser, looping it against his belt. Pulling out his telescope, Kalċidon could see Erin on horseback, joined by shadows of what could only be carts. Walking forward, Kalċidon was joined by Varist, who now held a torch to illuminate them, while Kyre had pulled out the flare tube, Żaren lighting one of his hands in case the flare needed to be fired: Kalċidon stated, "Sergeant, fire off the green flare, tell them we are here."
Kyre lifted the tube up as Żaren lit the end, the rock now sailing in the air, a brilliant green light signaling allies. Kalċidon finally saw Erin in a clearer light, noticing he was covered in sweat and looking particularly enraged, while Kalċidon noticed one of the carts had a Kotek rider and what appeared to be a Temple of Nature emblem on it. What did surprise him, however, was the dragon walking on all fours, easily close to eight feet tall. "Sir, why is there a dragon coming towards us," Żaren asked, a confused look joining the bewildered tone he had as he saw the beast alongside Erin. "I have no idea, young one," Kalċidon stated as the troupe finally slowed down, Erin dismantling and walking up, striking Kalċidon in the chest, "You goddamned Mother-fucking bastard, I have trekked for EIGHT fucking days, thinking you and your little entourage would meet us here later, and yet here you four are, relaxed and without a care in the world!"
Spinning around, Erin glared at Żaren, Kyre moving in front of the latter as if to protect him, "You must be the idiotic fucker that caused the Force to be delayed: I had to send over fifty Alpha-Omega scouts on the Chancellor's orders for a week trying to find you! What exactly, pray tell, caused you to run off in the middle of these godsdamned steppes?!" Before anyone could reply, the dragon suddenly pulled away from its chains, removing the small cage around its mouth with its talons and suddenly breathing fire on Żaren, who pushed Kyre aside to prevent him from burning, calmly manipulating the fire around him, causing Erin to falter and drop to the ground.
Żaren calmly let the fires dissipate as he laid a hand against the dragon's neck, the beast nuzzling its head against him like a horse seeing its owner. As Erin stood up, Kyre stated in a deadpan tone, "Well, I'm hoping that this thing can eat hay and corn, because otherwise, the farm doesn't have enough food for a big boy like him to eat." Kalċidon and Varist glanced over to Kyre, the two looking back at each other and finally letting out large guffaws, Kyre walking over and holding a small slab of dried meat for the dragon to eat, the creature gratefully devouring it as he stroke the top of its head. Kalċidon finally calmed down, simply gesturing for Varist to help, "Captain, if you would, help me get the Commander to his feet." As they lifted him up, Kalċidon simply replied, "The reason that young master Żaren ran off to the steppes, Erin, was that it turned out the Warfather had plans to bless him with a divine tool," Żaren holding up the ax and letting the flames ignite before placing it back in its place.
"Now then, Commander, as your duties rely upon, I am willing to overlook this transgression you have committed against a General-in-Chief and allow you to deliver a report on what you may have witnessed in the last eight days." Erin looked over at the Lexidun camp before dropping to his knee, letting his head drop down, "Forgive me, General, I have reacted out of stress and anger, but I am glad that you have arrived here in good health, along with Lieutenant Varist, Sir Kyre, and young master Żaren." Kalċidon coughed, "I apologize, Erin, but I promoted Varist to Captain and instated Kyre as Sergeant Major." Erin nodded as he looked back down, "I understand, General, and I will not doubt your judgments: earlier today, we made contact with a Temple of Nature expedition ordered by Sister of the Mother Reġina to meet with the Lexiduns on religious matters. I have them here, for presentation."
The cart opened, revealing Liena, Marija, Elena, and Karmena, who walked up and gave a bow to Kalċidon, who simply held a hand up, "Belay the gestures, we are equals: now, tell me your names and the reason for this expedition, if you may." The women nodded, Liena stepping forward, "Chancellor Kalċidon, I am Librarian-Primeris Liena, joined by Sister Marija, along with her entourage, Elena and Karmena: they are guests of the Temple and were sent after being retrieved from the Asilic border." Kalċidon perked up, "The two of you would not happen to be part of the tribe that joined Tahra an-Fenrox, no?" The two women nodded, though Kalċidon noticed the tears that were in their eyes; he replied, "It is good that you two are in good health: when the news reached the Temple, Sister Reġina asked if I could ensure you, your tribe, and Tahra be retrieved - I made it a priority to treat the survivors and give last rites to the fallen. Tahra and your tribe were given a service and buried, and I ordered an investigation be launched into the matter, particularly if Kahmpet still stood: I will lodge a formal complaint to the Asilic leaders on your behalf when they make themselves present, you have my word as an officer."
The two women gave their thanks, only for Karmena to notice Żaren, still wrapped in fire and stroking the dragon's neck, "Why is that man on fire?" Kalċidon chuckled, "That, Sir Karmena, is Żaren Iben-ta'Kyre," additionally gesturing to the older man, who was also treating the dragon as a pet, "And he has been blessed by the Warfather. Young master Żaren wields a tool granted to him by Rigma, which will prove instrumental in our Conquest. Żaren, if you will display the ax, please." Żaren nodded, pulling the ax out again and wiling the flames, the runes glowing in the night air. Karmena and Elena whistled, seeing what could be an end to the corruption: Liena and Marija, however, were more in shock as they saw the tool being wielded, 'A true weapon of war,' both women thought, 'but what would stand as an equivalent born from the Mother, if it exists?' Kalċidon noticed Elena holding her hand up, almost like a schoolgirl, "Yes, Sir Elena?" "Why exactly are you calling us 'Sirs' if we are not men or of gentry?" Kalċidon chuckled, "I forgot, the two of you are only now being made aware of Kyran society: it came about to simplify the borders between the commoners, the soldiers, and the high-riders as one people, the Kyrans. Additionally, aristocracy like that which exists in Lexidus, handed about by the monarchy, has long been neutered in the Republic, so they lost the right to distinguish themselves in such a manner. I do not mean to offend, but it is common in a situation like this, especially since we stand as equals."
The two nodded slowly, while Erin spoke up, "If I may, General, I do have something else to report if it would be allowed." Kalċidon nodded, "You may, Commander." Erin nodded, "Thank you, General: you see, when I confronted these individuals on their orders, particularly to compare and begin talks with those affiliated with the Mother, the dragon," he gestured, "revealed that there is something odd underneath the ground." Kalċidon cocked his head, "And that would be?" Erin sipped from his canteen, offering it to Kalċidon, who took a sip, "Why is there whiskey in your canteen, Commander?" Erin replied, "That is what we discovered, General: apparently, there is whiskey in the ground."
"What?" Kalċidon stated flatly, Kyre suddenly walking over to his tent and pulling out a shovel, digging until he hit rock, at which point fluid finally came out: pushing the ground away to get as clean a grasp, he filled his hand and took a sip, nodding, "It is, in fact, whiskey, Sir," unaware that Lewis and Hovis could clearly see him drinking the whiskey, along with the Lexidun soldiers that appeared, "Also, it is a damn fine whiskey, Sir: very smooth."
Erin continued, "As it stands, General, I have with me the initial wave of the Kyran Conquest Force, along with the second wave, which managed to traverse the steppes faster." Kalċidon nodded, walking over to Lewis, "General Lewis, I finally have here the Kyran Conquest Force as it stands: 250,000 men, half of the Kyran Forces, at your disposal - they shall cooperate fully with the Standing Army of Lexidus and her allies. You now have the finest men and women the Fatherland can provide, at ours's and King de Brus's command."
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 3, 2019 18:49:18 GMT -5
Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, No Man's Land - Quijain
"I was born and raised in Selkirk, whole of my family was for generations upon generations, its a unique kind of pride we Selkirk Bairns have. Proud to be the country that took on Queen Yola the Second but also proud in serving her descendants. That's where the pride stems from, a teenage girl took us on hundreds upon hundreds of years ago and she gained Selkirk's eternal respect and loyalty" Lewis mused, swirling the earth whiskey given to him by a Kyran. Eyeing the mixture with both bafflement and wonder, his grey brows furrowed. "I made a name for myself with various border disputes with the Quijain and anti-pirate raids near the Southus Sea, I was more of a commander of intricate units and special forces than full blown armies. Hell, I'm the first general to command such a Standing Army into a proper battle since the reforms made a little under half a century ago. Before then there was no centralised army, with the various chiefs in each city commanding their own troops and then the king having the power to bring them all together if needed, hasty doesn't even begin to describe it." The general laughed and combed his long white hair back with a single hand, his eyes distant as he stared into the fireplace.
"I myself was born in Tshichek, a village in Eastern Kyras: when I was close to 10 years old, I was exiled along with my family following a dispute with the village elders. At 15, I enlisted in the Kyran Army, the start of a 45-year career: by the age of 20, I had already seen service in the War of the Two Councils, skirmishes against the Quijaini tribals near Talas, and against the pirates from Ukko," Kalċidon stated as he sipped some chapalva, a drink made from whiskey and gunpowder, provided by Varist, "By the time I was 25, I had been promoted to Captain when I was contacted by my old benefactor, Savla ak-Tarcan: he had recently been chosen to sit in the 575th Falanx, or cabinet, and he desired an aide, promising the hand of his daughter, Konċetta: a year after I agreed, Savla died and his seat was made available. I had to secure the favors of several officers to take the seat myself, but I could not return my promise, so they plotted my death, along with my family: I was forced to separate from them and sent them to the monastery in Kep'l Merta. By the time of the 576th Falanx, I had become chairman of it, though I was not at my current position yet: Konċetta had died during that time, and Erin enlisted in the 9th Guards Regiment, additionally wanting nothing to do with me. While Lexidus and Veritious were combating the hordes, I was forced to fight a madman, Atek den-Ten'saii, who proclaimed himself Champion of Rigma: he led a campaign of total war until he stopped at Varan - there, I faced him in combat and, well," Kalċidon finished as he lifted Atek's head from the belt, the part now heavily rotten, "He did not fare well: alas, the Falanx had fallen in battle and the legislature was uncooperative - sensing what could be done, I secured the support of our religious bodies and the Forces to enact reforms, at which point the Constitution was declared and I obtained my roles as Chancellor and General-in-Chief of the Army."
"My condolences on behalf of your wife and son. My wife too passed away, blood lung took her a decade ago. I haven't thought of remarrying since, despite my various sons' insistences. She was my sweetheart; I'll always remember her." He let his words wonder and took a deep breath. His eyes distant and twinkling before bringing himself back with a polite cough and straightening up on the log he sat upon. "I also remember being a teenager during those years of de-centralised command as well, goddess above, what that young man would think of me marching through Asakor to bring down a madman of our own! Well, of Asakor's own and not a man but a Alkin." Lewis spat. "If it were not for this Yrutan Crisis I'd be enforcing peace in that frozen hellhole, you think here is cold? HAH! Those Fyllians and Asakorians live in a place of eternal ice and snow." He brought his attention towards Kalċidon and stared at the rotten head. "It sounds like there's a lot of strategy both in politics and battle in Kyras, pray tell, what was your finest battle in your opinion?"
"And to you on behalf of your wife: she must have been a wonderful woman to be wedded to," Kalċidon nodded sagely, thinking once more of the painting that had been commissioned for his family, "I had heard that the Alkin that Lexidus supported, he returned to power and personally executed that snivelling fool once he had been caught. Nevertheless, this is the first excursion in centuries that Kyras has committed outside its borders: the Rozhai hold territory bordering ours to the west, the one area that had survived the desertification and expansion of what we call the Western Sea - negotiations broke down and war was declared, but the Rozhai were fierce fighters, and instead a tenuous peace declared, one still contested between Kyran settlers and the Rozhai natives." Noticing the question, Kalċidon stated, "There are two: before this year, it was the Battle of Khuninshahr, or the City of Blood - it used to be called Khorram, after the Tekkan Emperor who was born there. It was during the War of the Two Councils, and Khorram declared support for the rival government: I was part of Savla's 37th Blackfoot Regiment, leading the charge to take the city after initial bombardments by the Republican Navy. Once we made landfall, we realized the traitors in Khorram were not willing to surrender easily - it took 4 days of fighting before we routed and crushed the remnant defenders. However, the greatest battle in my opinion was the Battle of Varan: it was not the fact that I slew Atek, or that I finally saw action again, but that our victory was secured by Vortex ka-T'Reinat, Grand Master of the Temple of War - he had helped to discover the extent of the rebellion, and ultimately gave his life to ensure that Atek and his forces could be stopped. He did not falter that day, even with half of him gone to destroy the rebel fleet landing on the shores, and for that, he was given the honor of being named Son of Rigma: in my mind, none were as brave as he was."
"We could use as much brave men as possible." Lewis mused, turning towards the outer camp where the various armies and their men rested. Darkness adorned the sky and the stars adorned the horizon, countless fires across the field were dotted in kind, merriment and chatter enveloping the scene before him. "I won't lie to you nor pretend to not know what faces us Kalċidon; this will be a war like none other. There will be no retreat from this. We need to win. No, we HAVE to win. Throwing numbers at the Tabes will only hasten Calveria's doom, we're going to have to draw up a plan on how we'll approach the Tabes. As well as counter the effects of it and then..." He threw a couple of logs into the fire, watching the fire lick itself up further and further, emboldened by its newfound fuel. "...then work out how to kill a god." He furrowed his brow again, this time in deep thought and a hint of worry. "We've got the Rohzai's warrior, Bakahn, champion of Zypnac and your very own Żaren of Rigma's blessing. No doubt other nations such as the Dual Kingdom, Titenfisca and Veritious will have their own ways of combating Yrutas... us Lexiduns? So far its looking like we'll need to use our own humanity and wits to combat the god of corruption. Unless... Ah, my liege will tell you more when he arrives tomorrow afternoon." Lewis noticed his bottle was empty and took a Kyran mixture offered to him, taking a hearty swig before coughing profusely. " *cough* Fuck me sideways, is this *cough* cannon powder and whiskey?"
"For that, I am aware that we are but mortals facing a being who could easily decide to wipe us from the face of this earth with little thought: I had wondered, traversing the steppes from Talas, if we had gathered the necessary tools to face the Corruption. While I am pleased that the Rozhai have provided a blessed champion; Żaren, I fear, will need all the courage that can be mustered, for he has just barely reached the threshold of adulthood - I hope that Kyre and Varist will, to the best of their abilities, implant the skills that will be required to face the hordes that face us at the center. Besides that," Kalċidon replied, a smile breaking from his wizened features, "Even if the numbers of the Lexiduns are lower than ours and believe in a different god, I am more than certain that the natural ferocity and mettle of your people will more than compensate." Noticing Lewis coughing, Kalċidon chuckled, "Yes, you are partaking in an old custom: this drink is known as chapalva, though this recipe uses whiskey rather than the fluids gained from agave used in the traditional drink, but I figured that the burn from the original would be overpowering. Chapalva, as it stands, is consumed by us Kyrans before we enter into battle: the original recipe contains a heavier amount of alcohol and is intended for battles where we seek no quarter, no fear, and no remorse." Taking a heavy swig of the chapalva, Kalċidon continued, "It is one of the many means to which gunpowder is consumed by us: another is black dusting - when a soldier separated from the Aegelse, essentially a field medic, they sprinkle their wounds with gunpowder or ashes, the burning sensation keeps the soldier in the fight, preventing them from falling into unconsciousness until they can treat their wounds. It may sound absolutely insane, I am aware, but we do it to stay in the fight much longer, and I am certain it will be done when we march upon the Tabes."
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Post by Chiernarosa on Mar 14, 2019 2:00:06 GMT -5
Kyran Encampment, Day 1
"And the skies rained fire, and the ground turned to ash, and the seas flooded, and people turned into shadows!" Żaren groaned as he woke up, sleep still leaving him with blurred vision. Beside him, Kyre groaned as he woke up as well, trying to lift himself up only to feel the weight of someone on his chest: looking down, he suddenly saw the form of Liena draped over him, various furs and a blanket covering both of them. Looking over himself, Kyre noted that he only wore his pants, electing to peek under the pile of covers: he let them drop suddenly, face flushed with realization. "Żaren, will you see how Varist and the others are faring, also, ask if there are any orders standing from General Kalċidon or one of my superiors? Tell them that I am, um, incapacitated, at the current moment." Żaren cocked his head, only to notice Liena still asleep atop Kyre, additionally noticing the stench of alcohol and something that he could only dimly be aware of, back when Katarina was still around and they had been in Xanakht: suddenly recalling what it was, he nodded and stating far too quickly for his own tastes, "I understand, Father: shall I tell them it was from the whiskey?"
Kyre nodded, the blush now starting to cover most of his face, "Yes, let us go with that: tell them that the whiskey was far stronger than I had anticipated." Żaren nodded again and stepped out of the tent, grabbing for a fresh change of clothes along with a soap bar made from animal fat, reaching for a bucket to head to the nearby lake. As he stepped out, he could hear the Shaman's guttural voice echo through the encampment, "So let us not fear the heretics at our door, even with their steel beasts standing before us, stinking of corruption and shining their heretical lights upon us! We will not falter! Let us steel ourselves against them, for this is our hour of glory! Amen!" He shook his head: after the encampment was demarked, several soldiers began to dig in an effort to find the underground deposits of alcohol that laid beneath the ground, some only finding mud while others struck purchase. Many a soldier or weary traveler had engaged in drinking, Kyre's discovery going throughout the camp, yet Żaren's head pulsed with dull pain from a different reason: while Kalċidon and Varist elected to talk with Lewis, he had been dragged away from the Lexidun camp after a Shaman caught wind of his abilities and tool - for several hours, he had been stuck talking with the tens of religious officials and the hundreds of soldiers lining up to see him and the ax, the officials asking him asinine questions about his contact with Rigma.
As he made it to the lake, he filled the bucket with water and began to disrobe, joined by the soldiers and civil auxiliaries that were up at this time: scanning the horizon, Żaren noticed that the first rays of dawn were just barely spanning across the sky, stars still shining above him, albeit dimly. 'Good, not as many people will be trying to ask questions,' he noted as he scrubbed the soap all over his body, lifting the bucket up high and letting it clean him. As he dressed, he noticed that most of the people were now looking at him with hopeful eyes; groaning internally, Żaren simply stated, "I apologize for the rudeness of this statement, but I will not be able to answer any questions: the Chancellor asked that I report to him after waking up." The effect was immediate, the small crowd letting out their disappointment as they began to head back to the camps: grabbing his things, Żaren returned to the tend and left the bucket and soap there, calling through the tent walls, "Father, I left the bucket and some soap if you need to wash up." Two groans came out, definitely of exertion and pleasure.
Groaning, Żaren walked away, muttering, "Really? One day here and he is likely waking everyone else up with all that noise," recalling the issues that came about back home: Kyre, back when Katarina was still alive, was very vocal about his 'nightly activities,' often requiring a young Żaren to answer the door that any annoyed neighbor had been knocking on with an automatic, "Mother and Father apologize for the noise, they will be willing to help you out tomorrow with a favor." Even after they had moved out of Xanakht, Kyre had a reputation for snoring, something Żaren had adapted to ignore after a year or two of them sharing the same room.
Walking through the camps, he spotted the officer's tent that Kalċidon, Varist, and Erin elected to share: as he approached, Erin stepped out of the tent, standing almost to attention as he saw Żaren walking towards, stating "I apologize, master Żaren, but the Chancellor is currently in discussion with General Lewis - do you wish for me to deliver a message to him?" Żaren shook his head, "No, thank you: if it is not disruptive, can you tell me where Captain Varist is? I have to inform him that Fath-, er, Sergeant Major Kyre is currently incapacitated." Erin simply looked at him, deadpan expression and voice coming through as he asked, "I am guessing he is incapacitated and under the company of one Librarian-Primeris Liena?" Żaren simply nodded, "Correct, Sir: unfortunately, when I returned to the tent, the Sergeant Major was still in the company of the Librarian, so I elected to try and meet the Chancellor." Erin looked around, simply stating, "If I recall correctly, Captain Varist was meeting with Sister Marija and her entourage, they may be within the Lexidun encampment. Come with me."
As the two walked, Żaren noticed that it felt like something was watching him: turning around, he suddenly saw the dragon that had arrived yesterday, holding a dead rabbit in its mouth - dropping the rabbit at his feet, Żaren delicately grabbed it and held it out, stating, "You need it more than I do at the current moment." The dragon simply opened its mouth, Żaren slipping it in so it could feed before turning around and gesturing for it to follow, the beast complying. 'Great, it has been only one day and I already have to deal with Father waking up the camp and a dragon following me around like a pet.' Erin simply watched on, having stopped when he heard the thud of the rabbit on the ground, taking in the spectacle of the young man feeding the dragon that had followed them since several days ago, likely having been drawn by Żaren.
Although he mulled over it for a short while, he pushed it aside as he saw Varist near a campfire, talking to the three women that joined Liena, the two Scorched Ones leaning forward in rapt attention as they listened closely, their eyes gleaming like that of small children having learned a new thing. Marija noticed the two men and the dragon approaching, tapping Varist on the shoulder as he saw them, stating, "Ah, Commander, Żaren, nice to see the two of you up this early." Erin nodded, "Indeed, Captain: Żaren asked if you could relay information regarding Sergeant Major Kyre, but I presume the Chancellor did not require immediate assistance?" Varist nodded in turn, "He asked to be left alone for the time being, so I decided to spend some time here along with Marija and her students - the three of them were already up, so I offered to make breakfast. Actually," he said, leaning over to pull up a pan of bread and meat, both items cold, "If you want, I can heat this up so the both of you can get something in your stomachs before the King arrives." Both men nodded, "It will be a welcome relief, Captain, being able to actually enjoy a meal rather than having to eat it quickly." Grabbing a small stand, Varist placed it over the fire and placed the pan on top of it, reaching over to offer some water, Żaren taking it with a nod of thanks.
The group sat there, electing to let Żaren and Erin finish the leftovers before Karmena asked, draped against the dragon's side, "Has Sister Liena been around?" Marija followed up, "Librarian Liena, Karmena, and yes, have the two of you seen her? Last any of us saw her was last night, apparently, she was talking with the Chancellor over our mission, right after he finished talking to General Lewis." Erin shook his head, "I did not see her after making contact with the Lexiduns, but Żaren did. Master Żaren, do you wish to tell us?" Żaren looked surprisingly pale, taking a sip of water before replying in a quiet voice, "I actually did see her after she finished up with the Chancellor: she joined Father and some of the Lexidun soldiers in drinking some of the underground whiskey." The three women perked up, while Varist simply leaned back and sipped some of the Bluxa whiskey he still had from last night, Erin muttering, "I still do not understand why there is fucking whiskey in the ground."
Żaren sipped again, his look now being like that of a child having heard a curse word for the first time, "Well, the Librarian and Father were both talking, I remember she ended up embracing Father when he talked about Mother, then I remember the two heading off towards the lake to get a drink. After that, I was asleep, but when I woke up, I, uh, found out that Librarian Liena and Father were sharing the blankets." Surprisingly, it was Elena who replied, a casual look on her face as she gently pressed back against the dragon, "So Liena and your father had sex?" Marija gasped, while Karmena and Varist both looked at Elena with a surprised look on their faces, Erin gently chuckling as he saw that, coupled with Żaren blushing and nodding, "Yes, I admit it, Father had sex with her, or, well, technically he still was in the middle of that after I woke up; after I left to go bathe, of course," he tacked on, noticing the glances as Marija looked even more embarrassed, "I came back, and they were, well, in the middle of it, so I left to go tell the Chancellor that Father was, well, incapacitated."
Marija looked at him, still bundled up in the small layer of furs (while the air was cold, Varist and Erin had taken to wearing their aketons over their uniforms, while Elena and Karmena used their natural heat and a blanket to stay warm - Żaren, well, he was unperturbed by the cold for obvious reasons), simply stating, "Was she, well, clothed when you found her this morning?" Żaren shook his head, "I did not see, but Father did, and he looked a little bit surprised. I might add, though, that I did not hear them when they must have done it while I was asleep. Also, would the Librarian happened to have had sex before last night?" Marija blushed, stating, "Well, us followers of the Sisters that happened to not have engaged in intercourse elect to follow a vow of chastity, so most of us have not been deflowered yet, and that included Librarian Liena." Żaren nodded, "She did look rather peaceful and content while sleeping on top of Father." Marija coughed, her blush now evident, "Perhaps it is best that we do not talk about any further details between my superior and your father."
Żaren finally relaxed, "Agreed: while I am happy that Father has chosen to finally look for someone after Mother passed away, I really do not need to recall his 'exploits,' if we can call them that. Plus, I am certain you might pass out from all the blushing you have been doing." Marija, to her credit, simply winced and began rubbing the back of her head, "It was that noticeable, huh?" Elena and Karmena agreed, "Yes, it was, though you did look cute, I might add," Karmena tacked on, wiggling an eyebrow in Marija's direction, the poor woman blushing further, "Karmena, please do not make Sister Marija blush anymore, she might actually pass out," Elena added, only to adorably place a hand on Marija's thigh, "Although I must agree with her that you did look cute."
Żaren suddenly spoke up, "Actually, I just realized something: didn't you say that most of the Sisters agree to remain flowered?" Marija nodded, suddenly realizing the question he was going to ask, "So, do you happen to be a virgin too, Sister?" The blush told everything, Karmena chuckling, "She is as pure as I suspected." Marija piped back, "For all the sex that you and your wife have, I am certain we happen to be similar in terms of maintaining our physical virginities." Both women suddenly blushed, Marija looking on with a smug smile on her face before tacking on, "Also, did the both of you really needed to have sex yesterday?" Karmena stuttered heavily, while Elena recovered and stated, "She said I could take the lead, and you did see the face she made. I wouldn't mind letting you join us if you want." Marija blushed again, only to gasp when Karmena leaned over to peck her on the cheek, "As do I, I would be happy if you joined us."
Looking back, Żaren made the save and stated, "I think I can see Father and Librarian Liena coming our way," Marija letting out a sigh before walking over and giving Żaren a hug as thanks, only for Elena to walk over and give him one as well, Marija cocking her head as Elena noticed, "It looked like he needed one." Shrugging his shoulders, Żaren thanked her before standing up, noticing Kyre having a small blush as he saw the group, his arm draped over Liena's shoulders, she doing the same in turn. Coughing, Kyre broke from the embrace before standing at attention and saluting, "Commander Erin, Captain Varist, I apologize for not reporting as soon as I was awake, I was incapacitated from last night." Erin returned the gesture, "It is no worry, Sergeant Major: General Kalċidon gave all soldiers a day of rest after traversing the steppes." Kyre began to relax, only for Varist to reply, "Besides, having sex for the first time in a while is a bit taxing, I would presume?" Varist chuckled as he saw both Kyre and Liena blush, looking away from the group and each other, though the body language easily spelled it out, "What gave it away?" Liena asked, finally deciding to sit next to Marija, wincing slightly as she noticed the smug smirk Marija was sending her way.
Varist replied, joined by Elena, Karmena, and Erin, "The two of you were talking last night, Żaren told us that you went off to the lakeside, then there was the fact that we figured out the two of you were sharing the sheets, and Żaren told us about what happened when he came back from bathing." Kyre and Liena both groaned, only to blush again when they realized what they were doing, "Plus that," Żaren added on, wanting to get one in for last night and earlier, "If it's any consolation, Sister Marija told me that Elena and Karmena did something similar," chuckling as he saw the two stutter in turn. "Anyways!" Kyre said, slightly and intentionally loudly, "Żaren, I want to continue your training, likely after the Chancellor finishes the first day's meeting with King de Brus." Żaren nodded, "I would like that, oh, and Father?" Kyre perked up, noticing the warm smile on Żaren's face, "It is good that you decided to find someone, even if it might be just for one night." Kyre smiled back, Liena joining in along with everyone else, Erin surprising himself by letting a small smile break free, "It is very likely it will be more than one night: Liena helped me when we went to the lakeside - I am not afraid to admit I had a bit of an emotional moment there, but she assured me, and I feel that Kat would have wanted me to move on by now." "So," Varist added, looking at the new couple, "Are the two of you hungry? I can make something before the Chancellor calls for us." Kyre nodded, while Liena replied, "That would be lovely."
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Post by Au Minbo on Mar 20, 2019 14:42:37 GMT -5
Prince-Regent Otumi Hato, Omo-Touo Castle
The lords of the realm had begun arriving in Hato over the previous week. Lords small and large, from the lowest landed soldiers to lords who traced their lineage back to the Kings of old Oromi. They all made the trek to their capital, in part to pay homage to their Prince-Regent, and in part to answer his call. A great council had been called by the Prince-Regent, the first in one hundred years when the death of King Omo X Hato led to a search for the next King. None of the lords, save Governor Uzo Hato, Governor of Hato Province and son of the Prince-Regent knew why the Prince-Regent had called for the council.
In his study Otumi finished reading over recent reports of the situation on the Naga-tuo island, stories of self proclaimed leaders of the Naga “people” were abound and it seemed Oromi influence over their lands had nearly ceased to exist. Sighing, Otumi stood up from his chair and made the long walk through the halls of his ancestors to the assembly of noblemen. Through his walk he passed the statues and paintings of his forebears. Good rulers all, even his brother. Pausing for a moment as he came up to the painting of King Oto XII Hato he issued a silent prayer for his brother, hoping Decidius himself gave him great honor in the next realm.
The council had gathered in the main courtyard of the castle, it was a warm midday but a soft breeze coming from the sea stopped the weather from being unbearable. Gazing over the assembled crowd Otumi thought back to the days when nobles ruled the Kingdom alongside the King himself. As midday arrived he stepped towards the dais and began to speak.
“Greetings countrymen! On behalf of his Grace, King Omo the thirteenth of Clan Hato I hereby convene this, the second Great Council. The first point, before we truly get into what we have gathered here to discuss is a matter on dates. As I am sure you are all aware the current year is the 885th since the foundation of the Great Kingdom of Oromi. We all may be wrong on that account.” The Prince smiled as a chuckle spread amongst the nobles as he paused. “Recent studies in the ancient city of Oromi indicate that it had in fact existed for long before the foundation of the Kingdom. The Royal Institute has requested that we agree to an adoption of the New Calendar which would make the current year 1385. If a majority of you agree we shall proceed with the New Calendar. All rise ye who vote in favor of this proposal.”
As he finished the call to vote nearly all the lords assembled stood, the New Calendar of Kanso-Oromi was adopted.
“Now that the more trivial matter has been concluded, we can begin with the true purpose of this council. As you are all aware the influence of the nobility has wavered in this Kingdom over the past 200 years. It is the desire of our great King that this be revisited today. Under the guidance of glorious Decidius it has become clear to his Majesty that the bureaucracy of this Kingdom has become bloated with overreaching serfs. It is the will of the King that a new agreement be made, to restore the historical rights of the nobility and to regrant the old privileges.
Western Coast of Calveria
After departing the island, the King spent the next two weeks studying the gifts that had been bestowed to him by the foreigners. Inhabiting a strange land to the north, the King had decided to sail north rather than join the ships he had sent home to his Kingdom. The fleet had made good progress at first, but as the winds slowed and the sea grew still worry began to pervade the fleet. Food was growing slim as they spent day after day on the quiet sea, wondering when they would be able to sail once more to find a spot to replenish their supplies.
Their hopes were dashed when the storms began. Waves taller than even the most ancient trees which lined the boulevards in the capital city, the ships of Kanso were not prepared for this. The first day of the storms the fleet had managed to begin making its way to the coast line, but quickly lost contact with 4 of the smaller ships which had accompanied it from the beginning. By third day only 8 ships remained together, the others presumed missing or destroyed. On the fourth and final day tragedy struck the fleet when, even as the storm seemed to have begun to pass, the flagship was struck by a wave which twisted it in a way that no ship could survive for long. So hard was the ship struck by this wave that a spar on the mainmast broke off and collapsed directly onto his Majesty the King. Efforts began immediately to free him from under the timber, and when he finally was it became obvious how lucky, and unlucky the King was. Though he was not killed by the blow, his right arm had been crushed from the below elbow to his hand. Within the hour the ships doctor had amputated the damaged part of the limb.
Finally in sight of land, the captain of the flagship ordered the ship to be beached in order to both save it, and provide timber to establish a camp while the King recuperated. The other vessels in the fleet made surveys of the coastline north and south of their encampment and found no signs of civilization for miles and miles. The King’s recovery would have to take place in the middle of nowhere, aided only by the knowledge of a ships doctor and the blessings of Decidius.
Prince-Regent Otumi Hato, Omo-Touo Castle
As the Great Council began debate on how things would need to change in the Kingdom, the Prince-Regent pulled the strings in the background. Pushing groups together to form solutions he preferred, spreading false information to make sure some of the more influential and wealthier nobles were less trusted, he controlled the council in just about every way.
By the end of the council a consensus was had. The old privileges of the nobility would be restored: The right to levy taxes against serfs, to challenge others to duels, and the right of appeal to the King or his Council. Along with these old ways came a new tradition. A legislature consisting of landed nobles. All nobles, save the Monarch, from the rank of Count above are permitted to sit in this legislature. Barcounts can be invited to join by Daimyos/ Provincial Governors and above. Lieutenants, little more than landed soldiers are not permitted in the chambers of the legislature.
With this agreement, a new age in the history of Kanso-Oromi began, an age dominated by noble factions whose influence came and went like the tide. The only constant in this was the Prince-Regent, who by unanimous election of this new legislature was chosen to be their first leader, a position he wielded with impunity and would quickly strengthen to grant himself greater and greater influence over running the Kingdom.
LIST OF ARISTOCRATIC/NOBILITY TITLES/RANKS IN ORDER OF PRECEDENCE (Number of Nobles of each Rank in parenthesis)
The Monarch (1) Prince (Royal) (14) Prince (Non-Royal) (3) Governor/Daimyo (23) Viscount (110) Count (352) Barcount (563) Lieutenant (1198)
2264 Total Nobles and Aristocrats
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 20, 2019 17:57:16 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Castle Gate Courtyard - Camelon
"Lemons? They're called lemons?" Blair stared at the peculiar yellow fruit, it was similar to the orange fruit the colonists had sent up earlier in the year.
"Aye and with that they've also gifted you a holy scripture, Decidius based of course, a statue of the first king of their realm and some history books." Stated Crowley, reading from High Admiral MacLeish's report.
"That's not bad at all. I'll be sure to send him a portrait of our first king then, Lexidus! I was looking for some light reading to help make the journey to the meeting point more bearable." Blair chuckled, motioning for a servant to approach. "Grab me some parchment and ink will you? I need to write a letter. Thanks."
Crowley filed away the High Admiral's report into his ledger and wandered away, organising with the Titenfiscan representatives boarding their carriages and wagons. Blair, now equipped with ink and quill, began to write on a bench nearby all the organising.
Dear King Omo XIII Hato of the Kingdom of Kanso-Oromi,
From one nation to another, we welcome you from your splendid isolation, the Empire of Lexidus is pleasured to make your acquaintance. I would first and foremost like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wonderful gifts, I look forward to learning more about your esteemed nation, we Lexidun's pride ourselves in the knowledge of Calveria and her inhabitants. Understand that our presence near your lands is not one of hostile intent and never shall be, Lexidus and her lands will be open to your people so long as we recognise each other as friends, which I am more than happy to do! My ambassadors will be making their way down towards your land along side my merchants, to help solidify prosperous trade and relations between the two of us. As a token of good will, I have informed the southern colonies and the various shipping lanes of your presence in the area and you are free to sail your ship to mainland Lexidus and through the South-Eastern passage (for the time being of course and so long as you'll permit me).
I also pray for your patience with what I am also about to write to you. I am currently on my way to a meeting of all of Calveria's finest nations in preparation of crusade. A crusade against the mad god Yrutas. I know this is much to ask but I extend my invitation to yourself to partake in this war against Yrutas and whatever soldiers you can spare. All of us in the mainland have suffered from the mad god and his hordes, Lexidus' very own capital was besieged by them and I almost lost my life, the same has happened to the Kingdom of Veritious to your east. I know your nation is finally opening itself up to the world and what I'm asking of you seems a grand order but know this, we must band to together or perish alone.
Gods and Goddesses guide you,
King Blair de Brus of the Empire of Lexidus
Quickly passing the still wet inked letter to a servant, Blair sent them on their way to find a messenger, before climbing into a carriage with Prime Minister Helena. Crowley approaching the side window and peering in.
"I'll keep an eye on the Princess till you get back Blair." Crowley mused.
Smiling Blair gave a hearty chuckle, his eyes darting to Helena and then back to the old man. "I'm pretty sure that's the Royal Protector's job! How is she by the way? You and her have been chatting a lot."
"Ah its nothing, still adjusting to us topsiders way of doing things." Crowley gave a small chuckle, looking away from Blair as he did so. Crowley looked up at the castle and back, his mood now more sombre. "Be safe now, you hear?"
Blair gave a reassuring smile. "Always auld yin." With that, the convoy began to move as horses neighed and hooves began to clattered with the cobblestone path leading down from the castle. Turning to Helena, Blair smacked his knees in faux excitement "Right! Here's to the next 12 hours of travel!"
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Post by TCaDS on Mar 20, 2019 23:13:04 GMT -5
Underneath the Magna Tabes...
”Awaken....”
”Awaken....”
“....AWAKEN!!!!.....”
Hidden in the deep and twisting caves and tunnels under the Magna Tabes, a force of Yrutas like none other was beginning to stir once more. Bones and skeletons of foes long dead began to shake, empowered by the arcane blessings of thier deity. Thse bones would reassemble themselves into whole skeletons, who were soon dressed in fresh skin and filled with organs and the breath of life. To many, the Magna Tabes was lit in a dark aura, a spire of darkness rising from its epicenter, and those who bare witness to it could instinctively know it was a bad omen. As the Chosen were reborn, one among them had awakened long before, a massive beast that is the leader of the Chosen; the Primordial.
“It is time, my brothers.... the heathens approach the Arcanus with the intent of slaughtering our god and burning his sacred lands to obilvion... now is the time that we... The Chosen.... show these barbarians the wrongdoings they plan to make... and spread the Arcanus to all that we may travel...”
The newly formed army of the Chosen roared with a pure zealotry in thier hearts, champions that towered over them leading the zealots on a crusade of thier own, to claim what they believe is rightfully thiers...
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Post by axeldonia on Mar 22, 2019 16:42:28 GMT -5
Somewhere in southern Calveria
Run. Runrunrunrunrunrun
Oskar was wheezing through his teeth as he ran, the large catgirl in his arms giving him a confused look. Another arrow whizzed past, lodging itself firmly inside a nearby tree and causing several of the squids in front of him to exclaim in surprise. He could not believe his eyes however, as he suddenly saw a large river in front of them, along with a tiny bridge and a small sail ship crewed by a few cats. This was it!
“Hey! Heyyy! Stop the boat!”
He managed to yell something in crude common that caught the cats attention, making one of them throw something into the water. The collection of squids and cats dashed, tumbled and slid their way down onto the small beach, diving into the boat with arrows and rocks in hot pursuit. Oskar himself heaved the still-confused catgirl into the arms of one of the crew moments before an arrow lodged into the side of the sail with an audible twang. As he was the last of the group and with the angry soldiers now visible on the ridge, the captain shouted something as the crew heaved the anchor out of the water, the sails unfolding and filling with air, sending the ship down the river at a quick pace.
As the squids lay panting on the deck, the captain approached Oskar and offered him a hand. The Squid wheezed once more before giving him a large grin of thanks and speaking in garbled common. “Thank the mother you stopped for us, we would not be alive without you.” The cat simply smiled, revealing that the upper row of their left teeth had been replaced by something more akin to a shark’s teeth than a cat’s. “Any enemy of the landlubbers is a friend of mine. Now let’s get you lot something proper to eat. It’s a long way to the coast.”
Meeting Place, No Man's Land
The night stars shimmered in the sky as the sun finally set on the large collection of tents and other amenities that made up the large meeting place, with perhaps the occasional fireplaces to light the trailing beams of grey smoke blending into the dark blue sky. Suddenly, the silence in the Titenfiscan camp was broken by the rhythmic banging of drums, followed by a sharp rattling and clinking of bells. This cacophony of noise soon turned into a procession moving outside the camp, revealing that it was produced by several Squids clad in large fur cloaks decorated with various kinds of bones, from a simple line to an intricate tapestry involving what seemed like an entire ribcage. The procession had soon gathered in a group outside the camp, all together playing their instruments and gurgling quietly. As if on cue, other Squids suddenly began emerging from their tents carrying logs and shovels, dressed in only plain clothing. As they gathered they began digging deep into the ground as one of the musicians directed the work with a small rattle shaped to look like a Squid, in contrast to the many skulls and bones that made up the decorations of the other musician’s instruments. The pit was soon large enough that a man could stand inside it and not reach out, whereupon the digging ceased and logs where thrown in a circle around it. As soon as this work was finished, the Squids without instruments ceased working and fell to their knees, eyes all closed. The Squid directing the work now opened a small flask they hid beneath their pocket, taking a sip and launching into a loud rambling and screeching. The Squids all began chanting in Mennsprach, accompanied by the sound of the echoing instruments.
Mother of the Blackest Sea Please accept these victims three When their bodies rot in mud Our debt to you is paid in blood Mother, Mother of the Sea Please accept these dead men three one to raise into the air one to drown down deep in your lair one to flay his limbs all bare Precious mother of the sea the feast tonight is thanks to thee
The chanting continued like this as a group of squids emerged from the central tent, all carrying a wooden stretcher upon which was stacked a large pyramid of human skulls, the top one of which had had a golden crown seemingly merged with the bone itself. This small pyramid was lowered in front of the musicians and many Squids got up, decorating the pyramid with various items and trinkets of human origin, ranging from necklaces of teeth or bones to a fully conserved human eye. Each one of these where presented with a cup of steaming red liquid which they poured down into their open maws, spilling it onto their chest and face seemingly intentionally. At this point a human arrived, covered in chalk and with a large scarlet ribbon tied around his throat. He was carrying three pig-carcasses in a wheelbarrow and simply dropped it to the ground, falling on his knees and silently looking down into the ground with closed eyes as the Squids threw themselves over the cart.
One of the pigs was thrown into the pit and a water mage stepped out of the crowd and raised their arms. Water promptly began pouring out of the ground, beginning as a trickle but soon growing fast enough to flood the whole pit. He then stepped back, lighting the circle of logs on fire and creating a barrier of flames around the pit.
Another one of the pigs had its head wrapped in a noose and guts eagerly thrown open, before being hoisted into a nearby tree and it’s innards spread all over the branches.
The last pig was placed onto a small wooden table, its four legs tied to the ground with stakes as a crowd formed around it. By the time the squids where done, nothing but bones remained of the pig. Even the skull and spine had been smashed open and cleaned of their contents. As the bones where hoisted onto a stick and planted into the ground at the entrance of the camp, the few Squids not coated in blood now received cups of their own as the Squid with the rattle began painting his fellow musicians in elaborate patterns as well. The gathered collection of Squids, Kobolds and Enekebe now began frantically dancing and chanting around the fire, while some of the more coherent ones reentered the tent from which the pyramid emerged. They soon returned, now carrying sticks with human skeletons splayed in the same manner as the pig one and planted them in a circle around the pit and tree, gurgling under their breath as they did. The dancing, singing, screaming and occasional wrestling (including actual wrestling) continued unabated throughout the night as alcohol, poison and other intoxicants where handed out and consumed. By the time the sun rose, the flames had finally subsided and the weary Squids and their companions finally returned to their tents.
Helena finally stepped out the carriage, stretching her back and nearly screaming with relief. “Goodness gracious... This is why I prefer boats”. She scanned the Titenfiscan camp and suddenly gasped, seeing the ring of mounted human skeletons now decorating its boundaries. “Shoot, they perfomed the ceremony yesterday night? Pfft, just like Gale. They just couldn’t wait until I arrived, could they?” She shook her head in disappointment and ventured into the camp to find her commander.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Mar 29, 2019 4:57:08 GMT -5
Lexidun Encampment, Day 0
"Alright: Kyre, are you ready?" Varist turned to face Kyre, who was clad in his armor and pulling his sword out of his scabbard: the latter nodded, walking over to the designated spot as Varist turned back, his sights now set on Żaren, "Żaren, are you ready?"
Żaren nodded, wielding the ax in one hand as he did a final once-over on the armor he was given, electing to keep his arms clear excluding a pair of vambraces, and setting himself on fire. "Okay then, on three, we will start," Varist stated as he stepped to his position, having chosen to utilize a spear over his service sword: pulling it from his back, both he and Kyre immediately assumed posture, keeping their weapons behind them as they lifted their shields up - Żaren, meanwhile, swung the ax forward, legs coiling to give himself a running start.
"One," Varist intoned, bracing himself and gripping the spear tightly. "Two," Kyre followed, lifting the sword up and noting the protective edge that he placed over the edges of the blade, Varist and Żaren doing similar.
"Three!"
Immediately, Żaren rushed forward, a wall of flame instantly forming and barreling towards the two men: Kyre moved to sidestep, dodging the flames as he turned the shield to face Żaren; Varist, meanwhile, feigned sidestepping to the left, only to roll forward at the last second, barely avoiding the fires and positioning himself behind Żaren. Before he could react, Varist swung the spear in an arc, hitting Żaren's right foot and forcing him to fumble backward, turning halfway into the move to block a strike from Kyre, returning with a swing against Kyre's shield, forcing him to recoil against the force of Żaren's swing.
As the two circled, keeping each other in their sights, Żaren saw from the corner of his eye Varist positioning himself for a charge: sending a small burst of fire, Żaren forced Varist to back away slightly, leaving him vulnerable for a strike. Before he could capitalize on this, however, Żaren felt the wind get knocked out of him as Kyre rushed forward and struck his back with the shield, jumping out of the way as a retaliatory swing slashed through the air.
Lifting his frame up from the crouched position, Żaren ran forward, sending another burst of flame to prevent Kyre from rushing in again, focusing his strength on a powerful swing meant to break Varist's defense: swinging downwards, Żaren smashed the ax against Varist's shield, forcing him to recoil as he focused another swing against the spear. Varist moved quick, however, and gripped the spear with both hands before holding it over his head, blocking Żaren's hit and leaving his stomach open. Kicking forward, Varist struck Żaren in the stomach before swinging his spear in an arc, forcing Żaren to jump back, wheezing as he began to breathe again.
Stepping back, Żaren felt the flames rise up once more, more as a form of rage as he roared, suddenly charging towards Varist, who lifted the shield up and prepared to respond with a hit against Żaren's shoulder. The parry never came, however, as Żaren suddenly unleashed an arced wave of fire, jumping through it and knocking the shield away with the hilt of his ax, blow after blow of the ax against the spear forcing Varist to take defense. Kyre had positioned himself to strike behind Żaren but realized that he wouldn't be able to replicate another shield strike: gripping the sword in both hands, Kyre rushed to the side before running forward, feigning a strike to Żaren's side - Żaren noticed and swung the ax with both hands, Kyre blocking it with his sword, gritting his teeth as he felt the base of the sword begin to crack.
Varist ran for the opening, swinging the spear upwards at Żaren's arms in an effort to separate him from his weapon, only for Żaren to grab the spear below its blade and pull forward, shoulder-checking Kyre and swinging the ax against the spear with his right arm: the spear cracked in two, forcing Varist down to the ground and leaving Kyre without backup. Throwing the speartip away, Żaren rushed forward again, striking against Kyre's shield repeatedly in an effort to force him out of defense: as Kyre recoiled from a particularly hard strike against his shield, he slammed the hilt of his sword into Żaren's chest before shoulder-checking him, now moving on the offensive and forcing Żaren to either dodge or block.
Finally, both men went for a final strike, worn and ready to collapse: Kyre ran forward, holding his shield in front of him as he kept the sword back, Żaren electing to go for one final swing downwards. The parry was executed, Żaren slamming the hilt against the shield to leave Kyre's chest open, only for Kyre to swing the sword against the ax's head, sending both weapons flying away from them. Finally, both men slumped down, Żaren kneeling on both knees while Kyre knelt on one, undoing his shield and announcing, "Draw!"
Varist nodded, having lifted himself up after losing the spear and watching from the sidelines: undoing his armor from the aketon, he walked forward, lifting both men to their feet, "Alright, preliminary training is complete, let us review: Żaren, while your usage of fire as a defensive maneuver in place of a shield is useful, and I also have to commend the strength of those blows you were able to land, you have a lot to improve upon. Firstly, your lack of form: while it may seem easy to just focus on brute force attacks and moving quickly before your opponent can parry, you need to look more towards keeping your weak spots closed - both Kyre and I were able to get you in the chest or your solar plexus three times, and we gave you the luxury in recovering quickly.
Whatever force we might be going up against will not give you the opportunity to recover, so you must focus on keeping your torso secure. Additionally, your swings leave your arms open for your opponent to just simply hit your arms and disarm you: once the rest of the Expeditionary Force gets here, I will have a blacksmith secure your ax to your armor with some chains, but you must focus on controlled and concise swings, just enough to use force to prevent them from recovering, but also enough to pull back and strike once again. Secondly, you need to be able to respond quickly once someone maintains their defense: I can tell that you are riding on disarming and sending your opponents reeling, but that won't be the case sometimes. If an opponent maintains their defense, you must focus on weak points they might not think are there: you showed that you can exploit sending your opponents from defending by using fire - try to use controlled bursts on their legs or their head, send them back before moving to engage.
Lastly, this shows that you must consider additional means on fighting multiple enemies on the field: chivalry and forbidden customs in combat don't exist out there, use pragmatism and try to counter the fact that they will engage you all at once. If you have to hit someone in the solar plexus, groin, or head to get some breathing room or to kill them, use it. If you can blind them with fire or some sand, do that. If there are any means to exploit their weaknesses, use them: grab their weapons, break their limbs, anything to gain the edge in battle. You understand what I am telling you, right?"
Żaren nodded, lifting himself up and drinking from the canteen, the sun beating down above their heads as it entered noon, Kyre following, "Just be glad that we have time to spare before the other countries and their delegations get here: we will keep practicing, and you do have a solid head on you to get the information down, but you need to be able to fight well before we head to the Tabes."
Later that night
Marija fiddled nervously as the soldiers and their Kotek guide helped construct the tent: while the initial welcome had been smoothed out, Kalċidon had made it clear to all of the Force that they would need to be on their best behavior, with insubordination to be met with harsh repercussions. Erin iben ta'Ħadd had gone from being perpetually angry and outburst-prone to withdrawn and cautious, the realization that he had let his emotions out so openly in front of a foreign army weighing heavily, along with the fact that Żaren iben-ta'Kyre could easily kill him if the young man wanted to for slighting him.
Speaking of Żaren, Marija glanced over to where the boy stood, busily talking with Elena and Karmena as both women took time to examine him. Karmena had immediately begun to chatter freely in a strange language that none of the Scorched Ones could identify, additionally etching a series of runes that looked distantly familiar to Marija, though she couldn't quite recall where she saw them. That was, until, Kalċidon noticed and inquired, "Sir Karmena, where exactly did you learn the Tekkan runic system? From what I recall, the last recorded use of that was over 5,000 years ago with the Kharosti Kingdom." Karmena cocked her head, "Well, from the temples, of course. Don't you have them too?" Kalċidon asked, "What, pray tell, are these temples you speak of?"
Elena spoke up, confusion etched across her face, "The temples dedicated to Matr and Batr, you know, like the ones you have here on Surface: priests dedicated to Matr taught me when I was a few years old, trained me to be a Seer - it was the same with Karmena, Batr's priests trained her for fighting instead.
All of them stood there in shock: the feral tribes were apparently more organized than expected, with ancient Tekkan scripts and literacy common, at the expense of harsh lifestyles, Kalċidon breaking the silence to ask, "I have a few more questions to ask, if both of you will oblige my requests." Both women nodded, Kalċidon starting, "Alright: one, do either of you recall the entirety of the script that was in the temple, and why is it Vaslen ag-Toden rather than the language that the two of you spoke in the Underground? Second, Sir Karmena, I noticed that the horns you have are rather unique in comparison to the other females we have seen in the Underground, is there a reason why? Thirdly, if the both of you recalled priests and potentially societies as is, then why have we not found these temples or of the society that maintained them? Lastly, do you have an estimate on how many of the Scorched Ones still remain in the Underground?"
Elena replied first, "I remember the alphabet, they taught that before I began Seer studies, also why are you saying Dead Tongue over Old Tongue?" Kalċidon coughed, "Well, we restricted usage of that after the Republic was declared, it was effectively a dead language with no new words or improvements done besides some terms invented by the Temples. It was last month that I declared usage of it to no longer be necessary: the number of fluent speakers is so low that no one can really recall it anymore." Elena shrugged, accepting the answer as Karmena replied, "It is mark of being a warrior: breeders have short horns, but smooth. Seers have tiny horns, but they get smoothened from being coarse. Warriors have long horns, scarred, signs of battle and health. Eat a lot of meat I suppose." Liena suddenly piped up, "Actually, I might be able to answer that: from what I have gathered in examining the bodies of deceased Scorched Ones, the horns appear to be outgrowths of bone, albeit the composition is hardened excluding the tips once they begin growing - the tips become chalky in texture, in what I presume is the old horn being ground up by the new horn. From what I have seen, though, they are different from how Karmena described them: most are smooth in surface texture, but given how radically different natural Scorched Ones are from those who developed into it from overusing their powers, it might be divergent evolution. Getting back to it, it would make sense that the horns would be different in texture, it depends on nutritional intake: Elena, how much did you eat back in the Underground?"
Elena shook her head, "Not much, Seers trained to eat little, save more meat for breeders and warriors, but milk was fed to us." Liena nodded, "The Seers have different horns due to lack of nutritional intake, the warriors are likely similar to the breeders with smooth horns, but the former see so much combat that they inevitably have coarser horns." Elena recalled the third question, replying, "Nation died long ago, priests were last ones, then slavers came, took them to Dead City." Kalċidon cocked his head, "You had a nation?" Elena nodded, "Big one, as wide as Sea, temples and cities everywhere, but died long time ago, before my mother's mother, and before her mother's mother - temples were destroyed by the Dead Ones from the City, wanted to keep us weak." Kalċidon hissed, "I figured Reis'kjan had something to do with that, anyway, do you have a guess on how many of you are still down there." Both women shook their heads, Karmena replying, "Big number, but too much of us were dying, beasts or monsters took us: we fought the big demons first but they were too strong, then the sea beasts, and then the flying beasts. I say close to Varan number though." Kalċidon looked in surprise, "So there are thousands of you in the Underground?" Karmena nodded, leaving Kalċidon to simply conclude, "Right: Sir Elena, when there is time, I would like for you to recall that alphabet for records' sake, Sir Liena, I would like a word with you following my discussion with General Lewis."
Three hours later
'Well that could have gone better,' Liena huffed internally as she wandered around the Lexidun camp: after Kalċidon had finished talking with Lewis, he had called her into his tent to talk about the nature of her expedition - while he ultimately approved its continued operation, he made it clear that they would not have the ability to dictate how he would handle relations with the various countries once their leaders arrived. After an hour of back and forths, they came to a consensus, Kalċidon choosing to call Erin afterward into the tent to talk about the Force's travels and the discovery of the underground whiskey deposit.
Speaking of the underground whiskey, Liena noticed that a good number of Lexidun and Kyran soldiers were getting to try out the pockets of alcohol beneath their feet, some already having reached the late stages of drunkenness. Looking around, she saw Varist walking back from the direction of Marija's tent with Elena and Karmena, the man quietly chuckling as he noticed Liena, "Might not want to check in on your disciple just yet: looks like those two with her started sharing sheets, and they forgot to tell her." Chuckling along with him, Liena walked off, eventually spotting a whiskey deposit having been cracked open, a fire closeby as she saw several of the Lexidun soldiers talking with that Kyre fellow from earlier, the man already having a slight blush from the alcohol, though he appeared to be doing better than most of the soldiers who had already passed out.
Shrugging her shoulders, Liena joined in, the Lexidun soldiers noticing and saying hello to her, only to excuse themselves to take their comrades away from the spot: grabbing a mug, Kyre said, "Catch," and tossed it to her, Liena grabbing it and filling it up, taking a moderate swig and coughing slightly, the strength of it hitting her quick, "Not going to lie, I am surprised something this smooth does not have mud or rocks in it." Kyre chuckled, "I get what you are saying, though it looks like it uses some rocks as a funnel of sort, keeps the mud from getting in, though the rock itself is soft."
Sitting across from him, Liena was surprised when Kyre leaned over to say, "Oh come on, I got plenty of room here for you to sit, plus I think the Lexiduns are not coming back for tonight." Blushing slightly, Liena walked over and sat close to him, though not directly next to Kyre, who topped off the whiskey as a chapalva, letting out a growl as he finished the mug, "Damn it, that hits hard." Taking another sip, Liena asked, "So what exactly were you talking about with the Lexiduns?" Kyre nodded, "Just asking what Abel is like: my grandmother was from there and met my Pa's father, Tarvas when he was assisting a Merchant who had a contract there. Apparently, the two fell in love in that time and he took her home to Kyras, then had my Pa a few years down the line. One of the soldiers happened to be from there as well and said that it was a pretty beautiful town, I might visit once all of this is over, probably take Żaren along with me."
Liena nodded, "That sounds lovely, especially if the Lexiduns happen to know anything about your grandmother." Kyre agreed in turn, both of them soon changing topics and talking about several things, Liena finding herself becoming more interested in the man next to her: while his dialect suggested he was a farmer with little to his name, he apparently served well in the Army, with his father Redentur securing a Ċinturin ta' Marque in the War of the Grey Ravens - Kyre himself had shown to be well-versed, and had also lived in Xanakht with his family for a time until a few years ago. "Pardon me if I seem to be prying, but why exactly did you leave Xanakht: I imagine that you would not have to do anything for the rest of your life, especially with a record as illustrious as your family's." Kyre suddenly looked pained for a second, before masking it and replying, "Well, I am definitely not like the high-riders: I did not want to spend the rest of my life lounging around in an apartment while the men I fought with toil in the fields, their own actions not being recognized. There is another reason that I left, however." Liena cocked her head, "What was the reason, exactly, if you wish to answer?"
Kyre reached over, placing the mug down as he pulled a small painting out from the inside of his aketon: despite it being worn, it did not detract from the beauty that was shown, Kyre joined by a younger Żaren and a woman who Liena was not afraid to admit was probably the most attractive person she had seen, a warm smile painted on her face as she held Żaren along with Kyre, "My wife, Katarina: Xanakht became a place of bad memories when she left." Liena looked at him, a look of concern on her face as she dreaded asking what he meant "Do you mean that she left the two of you and ran off, or is it what I think it is?" Kyre silently placed the painting down, muttering, "Illness: even when Nikola, our doctor, did everything he could, she was not able to recover and passed in front of Żaren and me. Not long after her burial, I put the apartment up for auction and went northwest, ended up in Velran for a time, then we fled when the Valnaran struck."
As he finished, Kyre found himself surprised as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him in a warm embrace, Liena reaching over to hug him, her voice surprisingly choked as she whispered, "I am so sorry, I did not know." Kyre replied back, "Nothing to apologize for: you had no idea and I moved on from it." The tone at the end suggested otherwise and Liena hugged him a little tighter, both of them unaware that Żaren had been approaching them and saw the embrace, nor did they see him standing there with a neutral look on his face. The two stayed there in silence, Liena finally speaking up, "Do you want to walk with me to the lake nearby? From what I can see from here, it looks like a nice view." Kyre was about to reply with a lie to return to his tent, but the look in Liena's eyes led to him agreeing, "I would not mind." Behind them, Żaren nodded and walked back to the tent he shared with Kyre, silently voicing his approval, 'She looks like the one, Father: go and take the chance while you have it.'
The lake was expansive, the stars shining brilliantly on the surface, the moon giving them enough light to see clearly as they wandered along the shoreline, both keeping a small distance from one another. Liena spoke first again, "If you do not mind me asking, Kyre, what was Katarina like?" Kyre paused, looking out at the lake's surface as Liena stood next to him, a quiet waver in his voice as he replied, "She was, well, amazing: Kat was that person who always had a bright outlook on life, she was the type of person who could make you happy in a few minutes or make you smile alongside her. Gods, I remember when we first met: it was after I had completed my first tour, I was in Ronan buying some things to take on the trip to Varan, to get the apartment in Xanakht certified, when she asked to buy one of the items in the store I had my eyes on - we started talking, then we decided to spend the day talking at the docks.
I remember she told me that she happened to be there to buy something for her mother, to bring to her father's grave for the anniversary of his passing. We kept talking and I am not afraid to admit that she took the first step and asked if I happened to be seeing anyone at that time: I told her 'no' and she asked if I would not mind joining her to go visit her mother in town. We went and I remember talking to her mother: Gods, I remember that woman smiling and saying, 'This is the first time my daughter has felt happy since we moved here. You look like a strapping young man, I must say.' Not long after, I remember telling Kat that I felt like I was below her: she was just this amazing woman and I was a soldier that stopped fighting. She just smiled and then said, 'You are the best person I ever met, Kyre,' then she kissed me.
A few weeks later, we got married and I took Kat and her mother to Xanakht: not long after, her mother died, and we had Żaren to try to get past the pain of losing her. I did another tour about three months in and had Nikola look after her - I returned just before she gave birth, and I still remember the day he was born. Even through the sweat and the pain, she was still beautiful." Kyre paused, feeling a sob well up in his throat as he recalled that day, seeing Katarina smiling as they held Żaren together, Nikola helping to wrap him in a blanket. Noticing, Liena cautiously grabbed his hand and squeezed it, telling him he was there: the floodgates broke and Kyre slumped to his knees, head bent down as he softly wept, tears streaming down his cheeks as Liena held him in her arms, spilling a few tears of her own as she saw Kyre just bare himself so openly, "Gods, I miss her so much!" Kyre whispered, quiet sobs escaping him as the memories came back, seeing Katarina on her deathbed yet still managing a weak smile, holding his and Żaren's hands and telling them that she loved them both.
Silently, Liena got him to sit down, holding him the entire time as he let the pain he had buried finally escape. It was hard to say when Kyre finally stopped crying, but Liena knew it when Kyre left her arms and took a deep breath, wiping his face off and opening his eyes once more, now looking at Liena. "Thank you, Liena: I know that was unexpected, but I appreciate you being here." Liena nodded, wiping her face off too as she cautiously began to sit directly next to him, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Kyre drew her in with one arm wrapped around her body, "It seemed like you needed to let it out: once again, I am sorry that I brought that up for you." Kyre shook his head, "Like I said, no need to apologize." Quietly, the two of them looked out over the lake's surface, stars still shining as the glow of the camps behind them began to wind down, many of those within now heading off to rest.
Neither could tell just what caused them to look at the other, or what led to them kissing, but they remained completely silent as they leaned in, eyes closed. Time seemed to halt around them, neither of them acknowledging the world surrounding them as they embraced, Liena hugging him and feeling Kyre return it. Finally, they pulled away, opening their eyes, only for Liena to suddenly look away, guilt filling her mind as Kyre looked on in surprise, "Sorry," Liena said, only to feel Kyre pull her in closer, "What do you have to be sorry for?" Liena took a shaky breath, not wanting to look into his eyes for fear of causing further damage, "It's just that, well, this whole thing happened because I brought up Katarina, and I feel that, by doing this, I am disrespecting her by trying to take you, to love you." Kyre stared at her for a few seconds, only to gently grab her chin, making her look at him as he replied, "I do not see how this is disrespecting her: I feel that Kat would want you to embrace this - don't get me wrong, Kat will always be the first woman I loved, but I also feel that she would have wanted me to move on, and for you to go into this." Liena tried to look away, only to hug Kyre as she hiccupped, "Still, I am supposed to serve the Temple, to succeed Reġina once she moves on from this world: I do not know if I can be there for you while balancing my duties." Kyre squeezed her back, his voice low and understanding, "Liena, trust me when I say that I will not resent you for putting your duties to our Mother first, nor will I be upset if you cannot go through with this, but if it is possible, I will be there alongside you, to help you no matter what. I haven't felt like this since I first met Kat, and I think that we can both help each other out."
Liena looked up, a stunned look on her face before suddenly kissing him again, tears streaming down as she confessed, "Mother above, I am so happy right now!" Kyre did not speak, only holding her as the night went on, both of them feeling close to one another. A few minutes passed before Liena quietly spoke, a heavy blush on her face as she asked, "Kyre, there is something I want you to help me with." Kyre kissed her on the cheek, "Anything, Liena." Liena paused before replying, "Kyre, how aware are you of the chastity vow Sisters such as I keep in service to the Temple?" Kyre looked at her, "You choose not to engage in intercourse and to try and avoid doing so no matter what, plus you happen to take in those who have not been deflowered yet. Wait, are you asking me to...?" Kyre trailed off, the nod from Liena confirming it, "Kyre, I, uh, happen to still maintain being unflowered: if it is not troubling for you, I want you to take me." Kyre looked at her in surprise, asking, "Are you sure you want to do this? This is not the alcohol speaking, is it?" Liena nodded, "I have never been surer in my life." Kyre looked on for a few more seconds before replying, "Alright, let us go to the tent: I am hoping that Żaren is not there and is talking to Varist or something," lifting Liena off her feet and walking with her back to the tent, arms interlocked behind their backs.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 29, 2019 22:14:48 GMT -5
Princess Leanabh Yola Lexidus, Main Hall - Camelon Castle
She stared at the fountain for quite some time, taking in all of its curves, nooks and crannies. The way the robed woman, mother-like, held forth a bowl which poured crystalline water into the basin below her light grey stone feet. Her expression was soft and kind but sorrowful, water flowing from its eyes into the bowl, tears from the Maither Kin'est herself. It was smaller than expected, only just reaching the height of Myra, who stood at attention besides the young girl. Leana could feel her gaze upon the back of her dirty blonde hair.
"...she reminds me of mum." Leana blurted out, now fidgeting as she stared at the font's depiction of Myratnis. "I don't know why, I don't know what she looked like or even what she sounded like." She let the final words drag out in the grand hall, the silence being overbearing if not for the gentle trickle of the tears falling from Myratnis' gaze, an eternal source. Magic of the highest degree. "I want to be angry Myra, I want to be furious! I want to break this thing into tiny pieces!" She exploded, pacing to left and right of her Royal Protector, her feet stamping and her face twisted in frustration and anger.
"...I did too my lady" replied Myra, wincing slightly with her words, still trying to overcome her old disposition and loyalty.
The young girl stopped and stared ahead past the font to nowhere in particular, her fists tightened, white knuckled. "Why didn't you?"
"You told me to bring it to you." Leana swiftly turned, her eyes locking with the tall figure of Myra, fire burning in them.
"No, why then and there, did you not destroy it?" Myra, caught by surprise looked away before quickly trying to hide her surprise by locking eyes with her princess again, to no avail. "I know you thought about doing it. I'm not some stupid kid Myra, I know what..." she gulped, her fire waning and being stoked with sympathy. "...I know what she meant to you. You loved her."
Myra blinked rapidly, her brain screaming at her to run away but her soul begging her to let go. To let go of her persona and barrier from her lady. She let her voice waver a bit and her eyes water. "...I did." Myra sighed long and deep, accepting who she was Royal Protector to Leanabh, not a Donn to Petre. "I loved your mother with all of my heart Leana."
The princess looked away and stared at the font once more, finding herself always staring at Myratnis' face, at her mother. "Then why didn't you destroy this thing for what it did to her. DON'T, say it was for me."
"It was for you my lady. Not because you requested but because this font is... its a part of you." She turned to Myra, her small face squinting with confusion.
"Part of me?"
"You're special Leana, very special. The waters of this font are magical, you know this and it can greatly prolong the life of who uses it, every 10 or so years." Leana stared intently, her breath heavy and face stoic. "So long as they return to it every 10 years and that mutations don't overtake them." She stared downward, unable to look into Leana's piercing gaze. "You on the other hand, will never mutate, you're... attuned to the waters. You'll live longer than the best of us and will be stronger than all of us. You'll heal faster than all and be... eternal." Leana stepped away, unclenching her fists, with her blue eyes darting back and forth. Her mind racing. "However, you need this water to live, to thrive. Illness will take you and medicine, magical or alchemical, will not save you. Only the waters will save you. It is your succour and your burden. Your mother's gift... and your father's burden."
"You-" she let out out a deeply sad and frustrated sigh. "You didn't destroy this because... without it I would die?" she had lost her fury and instead found herself swinging her eyes from the font to her royal protector. Her shoulders heavy with the burden laid upon her.
"No.." Myra straightened her posture and her unguarded and soft expression hardened in an instance. Sheer resolve adorning her scarred face once more. "I retrieved the fountain so you would flourish."
The young princess cocked her head slightly in confusion at Myra, many emotions swimming inside her, whirling within her heart.
"Rulers reign and then either fall or die. You however my lady, will not. You will live and guide Lexidus, eternal and powerful, into the future. Your father's burden, nothing but a mere footnote to the wonderful gift of your mother's birth to you, of your being. You will surpass your father and all others before and after him, even Lexidus. This I believe with all my heart my lady, this is why I brought this to you, to tell you all this."
Myra now knelt before her and stared unblinkingly at Leana. She squeaked. "I don't... I don't know if I'm ready."
"I know. But I promise you this, I will be at your side for as long as I live and you will thrive my lady. You can do it, Lexidun's have sung of the lion for too long, it is time for the lioness to be sung about too."
The words struck a cord in her heart strings, Myra always showed affection and loyalty to her but for the first time since she met her protector, she finally understood how much she believe in her. Leana let a nervous smile finally creep across her face. "Stay by me until I'm ready?"
Myra smiled too, as wide as her scarred face would let her. "Of course."
As the two of them spoke and then embraced, Crowley stood around the corner from them, frowning deeply before walking away. Making no note of himself.
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
Following shortly behind Helena, Blair hopped out of the carriage and stretched his legs. Responding to Helena's boat statement. "Aye! Too right! But alas is the burden we land creatures must make peace with, especially with our arse-" he stopped and stared at the ceremony taking place, Helena taking off with a quick wave and leaving him there utterly dumbfounded. He had heard of this ritual in books before, just... never actually seen it up close before. Titenfiscans could be real scary when they wanted to be, he was always quick to remind his cousins that there was a reason all of the humans from ancient Titenfisca were gone. With damn good reason he insisted, Blair despised slavery and bondage of any free spirit an abomination. Self-determination is an intrinsic right of any creature to him. No matter how weak they seem to your own stature, the weak are to protected, not enslaved. Not for profit, not for sport and not for pleasure derived from cruelty.
He tore himself from the entrance to the Titenfiscan encampment and made his way to the central tent on top of a slight elevation, the head camp, if the reports were correct he would find the Kyrans waiting for him in there and their representatives. Hopefully General Lewis hadn't been TOO friendly with them, the man had an awful habit of preferring might over all else, he might just retire from his service and spend his twilight years as an advisor to the eastern nations!
Blair scanned the horizon as he made his way up the tiny hillock, turning to face the vast amounts of camps and men before him. He passed his own men as he made his way up, each of them giving a swift but slightly hungover salute before moving on. Already before him lay a massive army of Lexiduns, Kyrans and Titenfiscans. All that remained were the Dual Kingdoms, Veritious and perhaps the Kanso-Oromi. He was not surprised by the lack of a reply from the Kyasii, they would just have to make do without the underpeoples, still it would be a wonderful bolster for the crusade if they were to but send a fraction of their number and knowledge of the Magna Tabes.
He shook his head and turned towards the grand tent, entering with his royal guard behind him to his rear, a familiar face greeting him on the other side.
"Hail my king!" bowed a slightly bearded Dunsley of Loness, a big smile on his face.
"Hail to you Dunsley Hovis! Goddess above the reports were true!" he patted the young man on the shoulder, noting the shine of his armour and sergeant patch on his gambeson. "You're Lewis' ward now I hear!"
"That I am my liege I'm-"
"Ach its not been that long since we last spoke Dunsley, call me Blair!"
"I uh-of course my king! Blair! I mean King Blair."
They both laughed, Dunsley leading him to another section of the tent, leading past a grand battle map of the upcoming crusade. It looked glorious, the mini-cartographer in Blair's mind jumping up and down in glee. He pushed the small man in his brain aside as Dunsley turned to him before an entrance to another part of the tent.
"Shall I let you proceed firsthand Blair or shall I introduce you?"
"Bah. I'll make my own way in, no need for grand entrances." Dunsley began to walk away before Blair stopped him with a gentle raise of his hand. "By the way Dunsley, Leanabh's been asking for you, make good and see her some time yeah? You have my permission, regardless of what Lewis tells you." Blair smiled, the young man returning a bashful smile in return.
"Thank you my king."
"Ach yer hopeless lad." He chuckled, before unfurling the entrance before him and stepping into the room.
"Apologies for my late arrival, I wanted to make sure you all had ample time to recover from your hangovers!" he beamed, his crown resting upon his dark brown and slightly curly hair. His short brown beard sitting on top rosy skin and white teeth. A blue royal raiment with the white Lion of Lexidus upon it, black sleeves and gloves, along with dark trousers of leather boots. "Hail Kalċidon, I am Blair de Brus, King of Lexidus."
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Post by Percyton on Apr 1, 2019 1:16:14 GMT -5
Haroldsport, Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles King Godred
A cool breeze came onshore, as 25,000 of the Dual Kingdom’s best soldiers were loaded onto ships bound for the mainland. King Godred and his bodyguard commander Duke observed from a hill near the city center.
“A wonderful sight, isn’t it?” Godred said. “The port founded by my father Harold the Black is now the base for the son’s biggest expedition yet.”
Duke nodded. “I’ll admit, I’ve never seen so many troops gathered in one place. The Dwarf Locomati never had the capacity to put together such an expedition.”
“10 years ago, I’m not even sure if I could have put together such an expedition. We’ve all come so far from where we started.”
Godred and Duke couldn’t take in the wonder any longer, however. Godred’s friend Thorkell rode up to them on horseback. “It seems we have company,” Thorkell said. “A 6,000-strong Locomati army has shown up at the gate. It’s led by a man named James of Lanksharn, and he’s saying Grand Duke Thomas sent him to join our expedition.”
Godred grunted. “I told Thomas I didn’t need his help, but NOOO,” the king said, drawing out an exaggerated ‘no’. “Thomas couldn’t resist getting involved and taking my glory.”
“With respect, Your Majesty,” Duke interjected, “even if Thomas is in it for glory, 6,000 more men is still 6,000 more men. We need all the troops we can get if we want to defeat an insane dark god.”
Godred sighed, a weary look on his face. “You have a point, Duke. Thorkell, keep an eye on the army! Duke and I will go talk to this James fellow.” Thorkell nodded, as Godred and his bodyguard captain rode off to the town gate.
At the gate, they surveyed the army before them. About a fourth of this Locomati army was cavalry, with the rest being various types of infantry. At the head was a fancily-dressed general on horseback, with a bright red uniform and a gold-colored beret. “I presume you are James?” Godred asked the colorful man.
“Sir James, Your Majesty,” James replied. He hopped off his horse and kneeled before Godred. “Sir James of Lanksharn is at your service!”
“So I see,” Godred muttered. “You were sent by Grand Duke Thomas, correct? You must know that I never suggested or authorized the Grand Duke to send me aid, and to be frank, I don’t appreciate Thomas’ insubordination.”
“I’m aware of that, Your Majesty. But Thomas insisted that the Locomati armed forces should be involved in some way. This is an important mission that needs all the help it can get.”
“That’s what I said!” Duke exclaimed. Godred glared at the Dwarf Locomati, who quickly went silent.
“All the same,” the king went on, “I have my doubts. What quality of army are you leading?”
“Very high-quality,” James explained, his face lighting up. “The most elite and well-trained soldiers, led by the most splendid and magnificent general in the Locomati army.”
Godred rolled his eyes. “Splendidness and magnificence do not win wars, James.”
“Sir James,” the Locomati commander interrupted, “if you please.”
“Still…” Godred paused to glance at James’ army. “At least your army is good. If you can take care of yourself, then you and your army can join me.”
“Of course, Your Majesty! You can count on me! I’m the most superb general you could find!” One of the other Locomati officers gave James a dirty look. “Oh, and the same goes for my men. They’re pretty good too.”
Godred nodded. “Alright. Arise, Sir James. Welcome to the anti-Yrutas army!” Godred extended his hand toward the Locomati general. James stood up and shook the King’s hand.
“I won’t let you down, Your Majesty!”
“I hope so.” Godred whispered under his breath: “Myratnis help me.”
Grand Ducal Castle, Ballahoo, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Grand Duke Thomas
Grand Duke Thomas sighed. This throne room can be quite dreary, he thought to himself. Does it need more banners? Maybe a repainting? Or… maybe it’s the people?. Grand Duke Thomas had never gotten along well with his court, as he found their vanity and self-serving nature irritating, and he was annoyed that just about all the issues they complained to him about involved grazing rights, loose animals, and other things of a pastoral nature. But his courtiers seemed to grow even more distant eve since Nia joined the court as his political adviser. However, there were always two people he could dependably count on: his page and confidante Percy of Avonsida, and his chief general Gordon of Doncastburgh.
It was late morning in the Locomati capital. As Grand Duke Thomas idly pondered, the throne room doors opened, revealing Gordon of Doncastburgh. Gordon was usually rather stiff and formal, but today Thomas felt a sort of hostility in Gordon’s steps. Thomas dreaded what might come next, but he tried not to let on. “Gordon!” Thomas greeted warmly. “Good to see you, my good friend. What brings you here?”
“I’ve come to register a complaint, Your Highness,” Gordon flatly replied.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Oh? About what?”
“About how I’ve been treated. Or rather, how I haven’t been treated. You see, when Nia first came to court, I, like many others, was skeptical of her. I was willing to trust your judgement, however, as you’ve been wise and thoughtful before, but I was annoyed that you never took the time to talk to me and reassure me.”
“Gordon, I had no idea. I truly apologize for –”
Gordon cut the Grand Duke off. “As if that wasn’t enough, you have now knighted James of Lanksharn, a noble with no military experience, before me.”
Thomas was taken aback. He put his hand on his chest, and a pained look came over his face. “Gordon, I had no idea. If that’s what you want, I can gladly –”
“It’s not about me getting a knighthood,” Gordon interrupted. “I don’t need one. It’s about why you knighted a man like James before you even considered knighting your top commander, the one who defeated Count Philip’s Rebellion by your side, the one who’s been with you since nearly the beginning. Not only does it make me feel underappreciated, but I also feel that your decision devalues all knighthoods if they can be used in such a blatantly political way. We all know that James’ knighthood and command are both political, used to please him and get him away from court while also trusting he can’t mess up the expeditionary force too much. If James can get knighted, what other fool can qualify?”
Thomas stepped off his throne and approached his general. Still taking in Gordon’s words, Thomas stood a moment and took a breath, then spoke. “Gordon, I am truly sorry about how I’ve treated you. And I should have been more open with you about both Nia and the knighthood. Please, can you forgive me?” Thomas stretched out his arms for a hug, but Gordon just stood there, stone-facedly staring at the Locomati Grand Duke.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Gordon said, “but I don’t think I can continue to serve you in good conscience. Not after my faith in your judgement has been so shattered.”
Thomas struggled for words. “B-but, you’re my top general! A-a-and Northern Locomati Island isn’t stabilized yet!”
“Of course I can’t abandon my duty. I will stay on to oversee the reconstruction and stabilization of the island. But as soon as I feel Northern Locomati Island is sufficiently stabilized, I will be resigning my commission.” Gordon lightly bowed before the Grand Duke. “Good day, Your Highness.” With that, the general turned on his heels and left the throne room.
Thomas backed into his throne and plopped into the seat. He let out a heavy sigh. “Dear oh dear, what am I going to do now? What am I going to do without my chief general?”
Just then, a squire came up to Thomas. “I suppose now would be a bad time for me to inform you that you have another visitor,” the squire said. “Shall I send him away?”
“No, might as well get it over with,” Thomas said. He waved his hand. “Bring him in.” The squire left the room and came back with a portly courtier in a faded green outfit and brown hair. “Presenting, Montague of Swindonia!” Montague kneeled before the Grand Duke.
“So,” Thomas asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “what can I do for you today Montague?”
“I sincerely beg your pardon, Your Highness,” Montague began, “but in light of recent information, I must press you on your political adviser Nia.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Here we go again,” he muttered. Montague, either not noticing or not caring about Thomas’ comment, went on.
“When you first brought Nia onto your team, I was worried. An outsider who spent most of her childhood outside the Locomati Isles did not seem like an appropriate candidate for such an influential position, even if she had been born in the isles. But I remained quiet, as I trusted your judgement and you hadn’t led us astray before.”
“So then why are you here?” Thomas asked testily.
“Because of the recent intelligence report from the Chief Driver. His information indicates that the Locomati Diplomatic Corps has been infiltrated by a subversive sect known as the Order of BR. Nia was a member of the Locomati Diplomatic Corps and arrived just before this information was revealed. Beg pardon Your Highness, but how can you not see the connection? Aren’t you a little worried?”
Thomas feigned politeness. “I appreciate your feelings Montague, but I’ve gotten to know Nia quite well –”
“Extremely well, if the rumors are to be believed,” Montague murmured.
“And based on what I’ve seen of her and her performance, she’s been nothing but helpful and kind. I see no reason to question her motives.”
“That’s all well and good, Your Highness, but looks can be deceiving. I’m just worried that Nia isn’t as well-intentioned as she appears. Why, I remember a story from my ancestors in the Western Provinces, about a man with three –”
“Enough with your blathering!” Thomas shouted, as he stood up from his throne. “I do not care about what your Western ancestors have to say about how I choose my advisers!”
“Beg pardon Your Highness, but I really think –”
“You’re still going on!?” Thomas screamed. “I’ve heard complaints about Nia before, but your’s are by far the most irritating! Dear Myratnis, your prattle is about as annoying as… as…” Thomas had to think for a moment, as he struggled to come up with an adequate insult. At last, he settled on one. “As a duck! A very loud duck! Maybe that’s what we should call you now?”
Montague stared at Thomas, his face riddled with confusion. “Excuse me, Your Highness?”
“You don’t understand me, Duck?” Thomas retorted. “Maybe I should put it in a language you’ll understand: QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!”
Montague rose in a huff. “Well, I’d never! I don’t need to suffer such indignities!”
“And what are you going to do about it, Duck? Waddle back to your quarters?”
“Not my quarters in the castle, Your Highness. I’m going home to my estates at Swindonia. Maybe I’ll come back when you’ve learned some respect.” Without any further niceties or farewells, Montague turned around and exited the throne room.
“Well fine!” Thomas yelled, gesticulating wildly. “I don’t need you anyway! I don’t need any of you lazy, good-for-nothing nobles! Good riddance, that’s what I say!” Thomas sighed and slumped back into his throne. He was now quite exhausted. He turned to a squire standing next to him. “Squire, get me the court jester. Maybe a good laugh from Charlie will set my mind at ease.”
“Right away, Your Highness.” A few minutes passed, and then a short man in a purple outfit walked into the throne room carrying a lute guitar.
“Your summon was quite a surprise, Your Highness," Charlie said. "You call me about as frequently as King Godred defeats rebellions!”
Thomas laughed heartily. “Well played, Charlie! Well played! I’m going to need your humor at a time like this.”
“Feeling blue, Your Highness? The ocean is supposed to be blue, not Grand Dukes!”
Thomas faintly smiled. “Very true, Charlie, but unfortunately I’ve been feeling a bit low. It’s a long story. A light-hearted song would do me some good.”
“Of course, Your Highness!” Charlie put his hands over the guitar strings and prepared to play. “One Charlie song coming up!” The court jester plucked the strings of his guitar to warm up, then began to play and sing his song:
There was once a mighty man, Thomas by name He became the Grand Duke, Bringing him power and fame But I assure you his election was far from a fluke Thomas was strong and wise And I’m not telling lies He could see all the roadblocks For he was smart as a fox He enjoyed strong barley And had a jester named Charlie
Thomas let out a joyous laughter. “Oh well done, Charlie!” the Grand Duke said with an applause. “That last couplet was a bit of a stretch, but I do appreciate your little personal touch.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Charlie said eagerly. “Anything for my lord!”
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Post by Chiernarosa on Apr 1, 2019 4:41:42 GMT -5
Lexidun Encampment, near the Command Tent; Day 1
"The lot of you are seeing what I am seeing, right?" Varist spoke up as the group watched what appeared to be a religious ceremony being conducted by the Titenfiscans, a pyramid of skulls looming over the three pig corpses and screaming procession of walking squids, short reptilians, and spider-like creatures. They watched in confusion as the pigs were either put into a pit of water, hanged, or devoured by the crowd; the crowd, meanwhile, consumed various narcotics and alternating between various physical activities.
"I didn't even know that a position like that could be done," Żaren remarked in a deadpan tone as he saw one of the reptiles mating with another of the spider-creatures; Marija, Liena, Elena, and Kyre all coughed, looking away with small blushes on their faces - Varist and Erin, however, simply paid attention to the pile of skulls, pig bodies, and what appeared to be human skeletons strung up as a sort of barrier around the perimeters of the Titenfiscan camp.
"My question is where they managed to get so many human skeletons," Erin stated, Varist shrugging, "Either they took the skeletons from the graves or just skinned those they killed in combat, either way, they look more like the Arvesh than actual civilized beings," both men laughing as the familiar image of an Arvesh savage, clad in dull clothing and feathers, screaming hoarsely in front of a crucified skeleton popped up in their minds.
"From my reports, the reptiles are known as the Kobold, and the spiders are the Enekebe - the former also have populations in Lexidus and are said to be skilled artisans. This ritual, meanwhile, commemorates the Titenfiscan overthrow and slaughter of their human oppressors, ostensibly due to the humans enslaving them," Kalċidon remarked from his gul carpet, quietly writing several ordinances concerning the political developments in Kyras, namely assigning civilian Presidents and military Governors to oversee the administration in the subdivisions, occasionally pausing to list several names to form the Presidency Boards in the Corporate Presidencies, or provinces geared towards a specific industry. Quietly, he groaned as he placed the journal down, rubbing his eyes to alleviate the stress of reading and writing by candlelight: standing up, he placed his gear on once more for the arrival of the King.
"On one hand, I would be disgusted at the fact that the slaves led a successful overthrow, but on the other hand, the fact that the humans failed to quell it and were subsequently slaughtered like cattle disappoints me," Varist remarked, confusion etched on his face as he looked back at the ceremony. "I also hold mixed feelings on the success of the revolution in Titenfisca, but the fact that the human King and his cadre of nobles died as cowards leave me with little sympathy for them," Kalċidon stated as he looked back, noticing that the members of the Force not in training were taking their time discussing with the Lexiduns and the Quijaini that had taken well to their roles in the Arban.
"Żaren, when you were out there in the steppes, did you happen to notice any particular changes in your hairline?" Liena suddenly spoke up, a surprising look of worry etched across her face as both Kyre and Żaren took notice, Żaren frowning as he stated, "No, nothing besides my hair turning from brown to white. Why?" Kyre spoke up as he suddenly tapped at Żaren's head, voicing, "Żaren, son, how have you not noticed that you have been growing horns in your hair?"
Żaren looked at his father in confusion, moving to run his hand through his hair and stopping when he felt the rough osteophytes growing past the shock of his hair, the individual growths already sharp and smooth. Looking at everyone with a stunned look on his face, Żaren quietly spoke, "I did not even feel these things when I woke up this morning. Did any of you even notice?" The group shook their heads, only to reflexively back away slightly as Żaren was awash with flame, this time surrounding the entirety of his body: the ax, meanwhile, suddenly burned bright from its resting place, Żaren walking over to grab it, now looking more terrified, "I swear I did not even will any of these flames, what is happening to me?"
Unbeknownst to the group, Żaren had flared up at the exact moment the Chosen had awakened beneath the Tabes, his body attempting to subconsciously alert him to the situation by activating defense mechanisms. As the group stared, Karmena and Elena suddenly burst into flames as well, Elena's being smaller and simply lining her shoulders while Karmena's focused along her head, shoulders, and arms; no one was able to piece together what had occurred until the march to the Tabes and their first contact with the Chosen - the entirety of the Scorched Ones population had activated in response to the Chosen, while the human mages felt their spells become more powerful, if only for a few seconds. The two looked at one another, then at the group, in complete shock until the flames died down, Marija moving to approach them, the couple suddenly enveloping their friend out of fear. Żaren felt two pairs of arms grab at him, Liena and Kyre doing similar as they held him, his own shock and fear dying down as they enveloped him in a parental aura.
Kalċidon watched on, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched on, pushing it aside as he saw a flare streak across the sky: one of his junior officers approached, the Arban scout behind him wielding the flare tube. "Ah, Sergeant Major General Erardi, a pleasure to see you once more: I apologize that I was unable to attend the establishment of your razzett (farm)." Erardi simply waved his hand in a dismissive nature, "It is no issue, General: pleasantries aside, however, I must report that my scout spotted a carriage with Lexidun livery approaching the camps - after deliberation, we believe it to be the carriage that King Blair is arriving in."
Kalċidon nodded, "Thank you, Erardi; and please, call me Kalċidon, I insist. I want you to gather the other officers and form the Council of Generals, waiting for further orders as issued by myself, either personally or by one of my advisors." Erardi nodded, "Very well, Kalċidon, I will gather the Generals. Oh, and Sir, good luck with the King." The two men shook hands, embraced, then separated, Kalċidon stating, "Erin, Varist, Kyre, and Żaren, I require all of you to be present. Liena, I would also like your presence, ostensibly to serve as a mediator: if you desire it, you may bring Marija, Elena, and Karmena along as well." Liena nodded, "Understood, Sir."
"Now," Kalċidon continued, "In a few minutes, we shall begin our first diplomatic dialogue with a western power. As such, I expect all of you to behave in a manner equivalent to the gravitas of our situation." The group nodded, Kalċidon moving to grab the rug to bring it within the tent: stepping in, Kalċidon greeted both Lewis and Hovis, "Hail General Lewis, Sergeant Hovis, I believe that our discussions will begin within a few minutes. I apologize for the number of my entourage, but I feel it necessary to have them by my side." Placing the rug down, the Temple of Nature representatives sat down, Żaren joining them by Kyre's urging: Kyre, Varist, and Erin, meanwhile, stood against the tent wall, hands gripping their hilts and scabbards, standing at attention with impassible expressions on their faces.
They sat patiently, Kalċidon doing a once over as he looked at his clothing: black trousers, greave boots with straps at the front, and a black and red aketon underneath his armor. His armor, as it stood, was repaired, though he forgoed polishing it out of simplicity: physically, meanwhile, his hair and beard were long, as usual, a healthy mixture of black and white considering his age, while his gold eyes peered intelligently, yet the hint of predatory alertness hid well in the back. Internally nodding, Kalċidon simply placed the various scrolls and journals he had on him atop the table in front of him, keeping them there at the ready.
Finally, the flap opened and Kalċidon tal-Wied tal-Ħames Draguni finally came face to face with Blair de Brus, the king entering with an air of vibrancy. 'He is a lot younger than I expected of the King,' he thought, a bemused smirk on his face as he saw the lad smile brightly, 'Though he appears to be a bit too eager, especially for someone who was reported to have suffered a personal loss over a month ago.' Brushing the thought aside, Kalċidon stood up, his posture respectful as he spoke in Common, "Hail to you King Blair the Bruce of Lexidus, I am Kalċidon, of the Valley of the Five Dragons, General-in-Chief of the Kyran Forces and Chancellor of Kyras: it is a pleasure to meet with you at long last, despite the circumstances to which we find ourselves meeting this day. I apologize for the size of the entourage I have with me, but I felt it necessary to have them besides me as my equals in representing the Republic.
As it stands, I have by my side, as members of the Kyran Army, my advisors: Commander Erin iben ta'Ħadd, Captain Varist Iben-ta'Peitru, and Sergeant Major Kyre Iben-ta'Redentur." The three men stepped forward, turning slightly to face Blair and bowing slightly before stepping back. "Alongside them are the representatives of the Amalgamated Temple of Kyras's Temple of Nature, here to aid in what would be required of us to succeed in our mission: Librarian-Primeris Liena Caruana, Sister Marija Psaila, and Elena & Karmena, nisa ta 'Psaila (Wives of Psaila)." Kalċidon paused, Żaren electing to stand up from the rug, ignoring the mental blush Marija, Elena, and Karmena had as they realized the gravitas of what Kalċidon had assigned to the couple as their last name, "Finally, I have as my esteemed guest, Żaren Iben-ta'Kyre, Messija tan-Nirien Dejjiema (Messiah of the Eternal Flame), Prophet of the Warfather and our contribution to slaying the Cursed One."
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AndyForgotHisPassword.com/oof
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Post by AndyForgotHisPassword.com/oof on Apr 3, 2019 8:54:24 GMT -5
War for the North
• • • • • • • • Kàhntchéht • • • • • • • •
When Kyasii armies met Voknt defenders 300 years ago, both sides were prepared for a very different type of war. Specialized companies of Warrior-caste strongholds readied themselves to encircle and disorganize a similarly sized force of of-caste soldiers. In reality, the northern defending territories would be overrun as the southern Kyasii Sect mobilized an army of 600,000 Zatol-Conscripts as their own Warrior-Caste rebelled against them. The Kyasii were the first to ever organize the lower-caste to this extent, and from there would have the military power to totally reorganize underground society. For the first time in 3 centuries a general call-to-arms was stationed across the country still controlled by the central government. Knēt Officials fanned out rapidly over the northern territories in order to properly evaluate volunteers for Soldier Companies, reorganizing entire Zatol groups for military service. The Vahdet doctrine, unused since the Fractured Period that birthed the current regime, was re-invoked from the Northern edge to the western exterior; “Service against the crisis formally absolves the deceased of all sin, and guarantees exaltation before God and an end to their reincarnation.” The Effects bordered on the extreme, and twice state-officials had to close ports to slow down the barges of northern farmers signing up for military service. Kemeht was preparing herself for War. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Whistle-calls shrieked over the water as the boat swung around, fire wafting up from its starboard as another volley ripped through one of the commandeered navigator barges. The active Combat-vessels, sleek warships with hulls curving above the main deck like a Sahakamad-shell, had organized themselves into a series of wolf packs, trying to use superior maneuverability to get an edge over the barges and to force them apart. Reinforcement ships skimmed over the water, ferrying to munitions to the southern Guard towers in an attempt to restart canon-fire from the defensive front. 4 combat-boats veered erratically out of the way as a kuoran barge angled its side toward them, another 2 retaliated with cannon fire before the plumes of smoke floating over the water suddenly shone a hot red. It started with a yell as the first line of soldiers mounted over their barricade. A wall of dark, Alchemic-bronze shields glimmered as they slammed into a preoccupied Kuoran force, only they weren’t the ones yelling, that was left to the companies further in the center. It was a sucker punch, a spearhead toward their distracted left flank as they concentrated their forces around the main bridges connecting the occupied districts to the rest of the city. The wall split in segments as spears thrusted their way out, metal boots squelching on the planting beds underfoot. Then for a moment they froze, eyes squinting as a star erupted in the distance. They didn’t know it, but the Kyran Army had just entered the killing fields. The Warboats hull shook as another Kyran round bounced of the side, it’s bough careening left before ramming into one of the barges, the smaller ships side splintering under the weight. Another array of whistles cries erupted as the flare died in the distance. ”Reinforcements confirmed: “Secondary and Tertiary forces move to sickle-guard positions. Primary guard continue to combat remaining stolen ships and the guard new formation.” “Just what we need,” the general growled, “have the left-wing curve around, I want to keep the newcomers clumped together.” Whistles sang again to relay the message, Kemeht naval forces curving from an “S” to a “C” as the left and right packs of boats regrouped to keep the new line of enemies tight as they moved out of the cavern-channel they’d travelled through. The general gritted his teeth as the enemy navy came into view, his own Flagship, one of the two Warboats, was located dead center in the readily forming formation. “Get word below deck, we’re preparing a deployment.” The Garrison troops squinted as a whiff of herding gas wafted up from a crater in the soil. They were arranged in a spearhead formation, arrays of actual spears thrusting out from gaps in a hardpressed wall of shields. They’d found themselves in roughly four partly-formal attack columns as they jumped over the thin canals separating the various farming plots, each marching steadily toward the northwestern dockyard. Along the main bridges, the stationary defensive garrisons renewed an assault of crossbow bolts in an attempt to push the enemy back while the offensive guard pushed in from the left. Whistles screamed as the distance flashed with light again, this time blue, and a single round streaked from the flagship. The comparatively thin shell of the round began to melt away at the almost instantly. Sparks of blue alchemical fire erupting from the small holes in the sides, reacting hotly with the wet air around them. The formation of boats had frozen in the water at the sound of the deployment call, none wanting to get close enough to catch fire. The spectacle ended abruptly, however, as the shell snagged one of the boughs of the incoming Kyran warships, a corresponding column of blue Alchemical-Fire surging outwards as it ignited on contact with the air and water.
War of the South
• • • • • • • • Vaannau • • • • • • • •
Canonfire streaked overhead as the first attack column hit the shoreline, a rocky ledge just above the water. They were followed quickly by the second and third as the first line of combat ships discharged their soldiers; a healthy mixture of careers and conscript fighters. The initial siege had lasted a few hours as the foreguard bombarded the city walls to make way for the first line of ground troops. Now that the first few sects had landed however, the forward ships began to push further onward to intercept any reinforcements and to properly re-establish communications with the Southern Territories. The Sahakamad, a Kemeht beast-of-burden, let out a cry as the smell of herding gas wafted up in front of it. Pairs of the animal all along the shoreline marched steadily uphill, aided by various lower-caste in transporting combat equipment: thick canons and supplies for a siege ram, while Ballista were mounted on the side of stationary ships close to shore; in-between the stationaries, gaps allowed a steady stream of armada transports to discharge their on-board attack columns. By this point any resistance left had retreated behind the city wall, a hail of bolts continuing to rain down erratically on the northern troops as they marched steadily upward, pausing for only a few moments to the sound of canonfire. The artillery cannons shook the ground with each shot, a thick plume of smoke forming every so often, accompanied quickly by an equally large cloud of stone dust as rounds pummelled the enemies defenses. The main gate shook again, armed rebel peasants crouching behind makeshift barricades, gritting their teeth against each northern-armada bombardment. Some looked up as a series of whistle cries related orders, and suddenly the sound of cannonfire stopped. “Get down! Cover your eyes!” A voice yelled out as ballista fire rained over the wall, the all-to familiar smell of herding gas raining down on top of them. More cries yelled out as those on the ground realized what was happening, as their own arrows stopped flying in the confusion, a northern attack column had just mounted the wall. “Keep the pressure on them.” The general barked out. Soldiers springing into action as soon as the orders relayed in beginning to set up the frame of the siege ram against the gate with the rebels crossbows neutralized, their own comrades-in-arms yelling information on the other side to a series of companies behind the in-progress weapon. They’d need to be ready to face what awaited them. Amidst the coughing, a boom rang out above the rebels, and all eyes turned toward the main gate. A second boom crashed outward, the whole structure buckling forward dangerously. Panicked, some tried to brace the door, but with another boom the whole structure came crashing down and the battle cry of the Northern Army rang out. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • It was a massacre, Northern attack columns fanning out and splitting into smaller companies quickly after taking the main square, surging through the main quarters and into lower-caste housing before turning their full attention toward the main temple and upper-caste estates. They left no-one alive, attacking house by house in an attempt to root out every last vestige of the rebel spirit. The temple would be able to hold out for a time, but by the cycles end it-too would fall. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Where’s Taun?!” Wet brush slapped across his knees as he ran, choosing not to think about the carnage behind him. “Yuar curse all what do you mean ‘by the southern wall’?” Siit stared dumbfounded at the guard in front of her, the sound of the battle rising near the temple-entrance. Taun squinted as he kept running. This was insane, what kind of response was this?! He kept running before his leg snagged a root and he tumbled down into the mud, the plants around him flashing blue-green as they shook. Dammit all he had to get out of here! Panic filled his mind as he heard voices by the shore. One of the patrol boats? Down here? He crouched up slowly, plants glowing as they shook back and forth. His eyes widened, they saw him! His tired legs ached as he got up to run before a sharp noise and pain hit his back and he tumbled back to the ground, blood pooling around him. “The damn bastard ran away!” Siit yelled out as they ran down one of the temples side corridors. Maybe if they could just...she skidded to the floor as she rounded a corner, the northern soldier raising his sword into the air. • • • • • • • • Takahm • • • • • • • • It was veritable chaos as laborer teams streamed to get away from the boats, soldier companies stationed themselves across the dockyard fending off swipes from the long-necks. A boy screamed as ones maw grasped his chest, pulling apart his ribcage as it hoisted him high into the air; retaliations of spears and crossbow bolts peppered the water. “Get everyone away from the water!” Ayill’s voice boomed above the noise, “I want the 3rd and 6th columns stationed by the exposed shorelines, we can’t allow them too-” he cut short as one of the monstrosities exploded out of the water, thick legs and a reptilian mouth bearing down as it charged forward, “That; change of plans, form a shield wall around that thing, get us an opening to hit it from the side, get the 7th and 8th to guard the water.” Like most Cher cities, Takahm was built directly into the cavern wall, the comparatively thin river running along the opposite side. Farming terraces rose steadily over the water, irrigation lines on their side continuously pumping water up to the terraces above, cooling it for the crops and helping to manage floodwater. The cities dockyard was set into a small outcropping, a more open space for the city-center, with the earth hune into progressively higher terraces for housing. As the attack began these housing terraces were fortified with ballista and crossbow personnel. Soldiers lined up along the farming plots overlooking the water, a mixture of spears, shields, and sickle-bearingers set up a formation specifically designed against the horde’s Long-necks, with spearmen targeting their submerged bodies, shields defending against their attacks, and sickles slicing at their exposed heads. Within what seemed like moments, however, the attack died off, strikes from the river thinning out before a horn call raised in the distance: reinforcements had made it from Ixthenpijn. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Ayill, accompanied by his aids and a full guard walked steadily out onto the stone dock; throngs of in-formation soldiers scanning the water below. 14 combat ships were already in view in the distance, southern soldiers locking eyes with their counterparts looking out ballista-ports. Whistle calls from army navigators continuously guided the incoming ships to open ports before the flagship, a warboat much longer than the sleek, insect-esque combat ships, came into view. The southern general and his entourage bowed respectfully toward their Central counterparts, who returned the favor. “I am Commander-General Kaelahm, Ixthenpijn has informed me of your situation. We come to heed to your command.” “I thank you, Brother Kaelahm. Bring you men?” the general responded, switching naturally to the High-Speech dialect. “10,000 souls follow me this cycle, another 10 travel now from the corridor, and 5,000 more from the Western Thaur. We believe them to arrive in a fortnight's time.” A collective sigh of relief flowed out from the southerners. “God gifts us this time, praises brother!” “Praises indeed.” “Bring you news as well? What of the Ahnsijn process?” “Tis yet to begin, Lawspeaker Izah now runs an emergency Curate.” “What?” “There’s more, rebellion has sprung up in the Verdant Corridor,” Ayill’s eyes widened as the commander spoke, “and runners from the exterior caverns bring news that the Northern Army is mobilizing.” The general didn’t respond; “they come to aid us?” “Nay entirely, they divide. Once to crush the rebels and flood aid to the South, twice to secure the Northern border.” “Secure the border?” “The Kuorans lay siege to the City of Kahntchet.” “The Northern Heathens push south? God help them.” “Indeed.” The general remained silent for a moment, “good then, park your men, mine are in desperate need of rest.” • • • • • • • • Later • • • • • • • • They all sat in relative silence in the flagships chamber, no one reacting immediately to the news, but each knew what the other was thinking. “Alzeih.” the General started plainly, switching back to his own native dialect. “Elder?” “What are your thoughts on the Capital?”
Jihad
They’d witnessed a miracle. The Aliim’yhrall Rohzai weren’t the most devout of their kind, but the flash of white light in front of them shattered all doubt; God had chosen a Champion, and that champion was a Karthagite. The first nights of travel back to the homeland were a nonstop series of group councils, the various traders, guild representatives, and anyone else with a share in the venture attending to heated debates as men of coin transformed into self-proclaimed masters of theology. It was decided by the Rohzai that as a now-representative of God, Bakahn should present himself before the priesthood of Yhrall, a point countered by many Karthagites who argued he should seek guidance before the Karthagite elders. More pressingly, Bakahn himself was divided. The Westerners had sent out envoys to rally other nations of the Continent. Their own lands were just assaulted by the great Demon himself, they -he- had to get involved. Eventually it was decided, the caravan would remain united and oncourse toward Aliim’yhrall, before Bakahn would travel to implore aid from Tibur and Karatha. With or without the Tibur, Bakahn and the Yhrall priesthood would travel further south to implore aid from the Gogher. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • A cascade of horns erupted as the caravan returned to Aliim’yhrall. They were met on all sides by crowds of people, children climbing on the round roofs of the bubbly, molded Rohzai houses. With the Cher Kem still blocking all entry into their country, good news of any kind was seen as practically miraculous, and this news was in all ways a miracle, and this news was nothing short of a miracle. The caravaners had not only found the Western Kingdom so eagerly talked about by the Quijain, but they’d practically quadrupled their investment, which for many people meant the staving off of the economic devastation brought by the closing of Kemeht’s borders. It meant food for their families, and a new supply of income for the whole city, trickling out to its neighbors. What was more, the caravaners had brought back records; maps of the region, information on western geography, southern expeditions by the Western Kingdom. It was its own gold mine of cultural information, cartography, and literature. Then there was the Karthagite. When the scouts brought back news of great success there was doubt, but a Karatha prophet? To say the people scoffed was an understatement. And yet there he was, sitting high above the rooftops with his own co-leader in the leading Mirewalker. A Karthagite spear glowing hotly on his back, glinting as he gently swayed with the footsteps of the walkers tree-sized legs. The temple gong crashed as they reached the main marketplace, and a group of priest were quick to intercept the main marketplace, and a group of priests were quick to intercept the newcomer to the faith. White-gold robes billowed as the ridden beast lowered it’s carriage-sized body to a gangway a few meters above the ground, allowing its passengers and cargo to unload. “Is it true?” One of the men asked loudly over the shuffle of the unloading process. “That’s what we’ve come to find out.” Amon responded • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Describe the incident.” one of the priests started., they had retreated to one of the study halls of the temple, a large, egg-like building directly atop the commons assembly - a mix of marketplace and democratic council. Lines of bookshelves lined the wall behind them as they entered, while low tables and sitting mats littered the floor; 3 huge openings in the opposing wall gave both a breeze and an impressive view of the city. “I received the blessing roughly a half-month ago.” Bakahn responded “May I inspect the weapon?” another asked. The Karthagite unsheathed his spear, handing it to him. “What made it like this?” “The blessing.” “Describe it.” Bakahn thought for a moment, “it was night, outside the capital of the Western Kingdom, where I woke to a great white lite, a warm one, like my whole body was resting by a great Sematak hearth.” “Was it just a light?” “It was the shape of a man, and it spoke, but it uttered no sound, I merely understood it. It was what blessed my weapon, gripping it’s hilt and burning away it’s sin.” “What did it say?” “It warned me of a great danger, and granted me the weapon so I might defend against it.” “What was the danger?” “That morning,” Amon interjected, “the Western Kingdom, the Capital, was attacked by a Yuar horde.” he paused as the priests eyes widened. “The Demon attacked?” he asked, Amon shaking his head acknowledgingly in response, “then...” the Priest continued, “then what happened?” “We won.” Bakahn responded. The Priest turned toward each other, switching to the Temple-Dialect to converse amongst themselves. Switching back one asked, “what does the blessing grant?” and in response Bakahn placed his hand back on the hilt of the weapon, before responding in the temple-dialect, “things necessary of a general.” where he was met instantly by a series of gasps. “You speak in tongues?!” one responded sharply in-dialect. Bakahn only nodded, “And now,” he began again, “the Western Kingdom mobilizes her armies in Quijain, they plan to war against the enemy itself, “the Priests were silent as he continued, “on it’s own turf.” There was silence in the room. “What does it mean?” Amon asked hesitantly. “What else could it mean?” one of the Priests replied, “but a struggle. “You believe,” Bakahn’s voice was low, “he wishes me to lead an upcoming Jihad.” the Priest nodded, “God has granted you his weapon and the gift of speech. Already we have guessed the Mighty Cher themselves fight a war in their holy land, I believe the Lord wishes you to draw that fight to the surface.” “If this is what God wills,” another spoke up, “than both Great Nations must be consolidated; you’re people among them.” “I agree.” Bakahn retorted, “But to ask both to cooperate? Is that even possible?” The Priest gestured to the spear, “It wouldn’t be the first miracle you’ve performed. • • • • • • • • 2 weeks later • • • • • • • • The fire crackled in front of him, an orange glow wafting over more traditional karthagite garb. Bakahn sat cross-legged, spear parallel across his lap; he’d taken to eating alone recently as they travelled way from the Western Kingdom. This was meant to be a protection racket, he left home for gold for his family and now was coming back what, the envoy of the Muse-God? The Rohzai’d started calling him Ah-kip for all’s sake. They’d split away from Aliim’yhrall a few days prior. Him, a new entourage, and his Co-captain Amon continuing on toward the Tibur capital of Qsahavad. It was going to be tense, a Karthagite in a room of Tibur, let alone one claiming prophet, but if the danger presenting itself was to be believed, Karatha alongside the two great Rohzai nations would need to put their differences aside. Drinking the last bit of his broth, Bakahn began to take down camp. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The Sun beat down on them from overhead as Qsahavad came into view in the distance, the Magna Tabes crackled red in the background. Within a few moments they were met by port towers, thin wooden planks forming a gangway as high in the air as the mire-walkers the travellers rode. “You wave no banners and you arrive here unannounced, state your business.” one of the city guards barked out to Amon. “We come seeking an audience.” the man responded plainly. The guard sneered, “You’re joking.” Bakahn stepped out from the shade of the tent notched into the beasts shell, flashing his spear, “We’re not.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Light began to pour into the building as the huge metal shades were opened, wafting over the soft white and blue marble of the room. The man in front of them scratched his beard as he studied Bakahn and his entourage, scarlet-robes billowing slightly in the new breeze. Amon and the other Rohzai bowed while the Karthagites remained upright. The Ahkip frowned, ÿou intend to seek my audience with this disrespect?” The Old Karthagite stepped forward, “I do not attend you as a subject, I come as an envoy.” He still remembered the war, he was not going to bow before a murderer. “What he means to say,” Amon blurted out, “Holiness, is that we’ve traveled a great distance from Aliim’yhrall at the behest of the Priesthood; We come with news, grave news.” “The Western Kingdom was attacked by the Yuar not a months time ago.” Bakahn said, staring the holy man in front of him down. “I have come with a request for aid.” The Tibur Ahkip paused. “Does the Yuar tread here? On whose behalf do you call for aid?” The Spear crackled with energy as Bakahn knocked it against the floor, “I’ve been sent on behalf of God, and am here to warn you of a new calling. The Yuar is brimming, the Western Kingdom Mobilizes. The Priesthood of Yhrall is calling upon a Jihad. The Tibur man’s eyes widened, “so what my aid said is true, the Lord God has chosen a mighty Champion, and he rested his bright hand on a war-lord.” Bakahn winced in anger, “Don’t speak so lightly of your own expertise.” “Now Sire I-”Amon desperately tried to interject. “DO NOT LECTURE ME ON WAR!” the man roared, “Let’s not forget the war your people started, the massacres they perpetrated, the centuries of peace they shattered! No man is innocent from the last century.” “Please your holiness, whatever the reason, Bakahn has been labeled a champion of God, I beg, implore you to first hear our message before casting your judgement.” The Ahkip glared at the pair of him while one of his own Priests, an aid, spoke in his ear. “Talk.” Amon raised his hand to silence his comrade before he could speak, “A months time ago, Yuar forces attacked the capital of the far Western Kingdom. A black horde spilled on to their streets in direct assault but were met by the Karthagite warriors under Bakahn, who just the night before was visited by an apparition, who we have confirmed with the Yhrall priesthood to have been the visage of God.” Amon slowed as the Ahkip’s eyes widened further. “Bakahn was granted both the weapon and tongue of the lord, and with the two banished the horde and made allies with the Western King himself: Blair de Brus, whose own armies now march into Quijain.” “The Priesthood of Yhrall,” Bakahn started, “has called for a Jihad to join them.” The Ahkip remained silent for several moments, “these are new times indeed, you seriously believe it to be time for the struggle?” “Rest your eyes on the Tabes. It’s impossible to deny something his happening.” “And you expect me to trust you to lead us?” “I expect you to trust your faith.” “You speak as if you follow another,”| the Ahkip smiled as Bakahns eyes fell to the floor, “but you make a point. This certainly explains the news of my aids. The Kyrans have sent a Conquest Column into Quijain.” Both Amon and Bakahn exchanged glances, the Republic was mobilizing too? “Things are changing. I no not if I will accept the divinity of a Karthagite Exaltation, but so long as it is Tibur Generals aid in the field I will grant you aid. 25,000 Souls will march with you to Quijain, that is half my army as of yet. The rest, alongside conscripts, will remain here to either defend my land or meet you as you march toward the tabes if your fight takes you there.” “Thank you, Holiness, we can only pledge to lead them well.” Amon said, bowing low. “An Bakahn?” the Ahkip started again “head this: if you wish to partake as the envoy of God, you must first submit to God,” the Karthagite glanced back to the floor as the Ahkip spoke, “expect no signs from the Karthagite Warfather, after all,” he paused as Bakahn looked back up, “if rumor is to be believed the eastern god has named his own champion amongst the Kyrans.”
Slavers of the Belt
• • • • • • • • Aliim’yhrall • • • • • • • •
Qumad squinted as the heavy door closed, the sound of the dust storm outside still audible through the ceiling vents. The taverns entrance room was small, curved walls blending easily into the round, bubble roof typical of Rohzai engineeringing. The chimney, a red-brown mud-brick tube bleeding into the roof, took up the full center of the room while a curving staircase, taking up the rest of the floor, wrapped around it leading to the rest of the building below-ground. The tavern interior, thankfully, was cooler being below ground; Chimneys and the vented roof keeping the temperature regulated well. Then he found who he was looking for, a group of 4 tucked away in one of the corner nooks, one of the men, Kawar, waving toward him excitedly. “Qumad! Sit, brother, have a drink.” “Oh no, y’know damn well i’m signing walker-shit with’a drink in my hand.” he responded jokingly. “Fair fair, I’see your point.” Qumad rocked his headin in greeting, “Nhazii, Temer; good to see you brother’s.” Just what he needed, Kawar’s scheme involved a navigator, “Pitch it to me.” he said, turning back to Kawar. “What? No no no I don’t nee-” “K’ar cut the shit and pitch.” “Fine fine if you don’t wanna be eased into it y’wont be eased, it’s okay it’s ‘kay.” “Kawar.” “Yes yes, it’s just...you heard the news about the Caravan right? Almost quintupled their investment?” “Quadrupled.” “Same difference, they brought back a lot of info and it just so happens a buddy of mine works with the Madavi Guild that funded them and shared me an information or two, a few notes, couple maps that sorta thing.” “Oh god.” “Hey hey hear me out. The Western Kingdom? They sent their own expedition out, a damn fleet to the continental southwest.” “Don’t say it.” “It’s just a simple wayfarer job.” “And you’re saying it.” “No no, okay sure i’ll need money up front but it’s really not as bad as it sounds here; Small group o’guys, just an expert navigator,” he gestured to Temer as Qumad bit to him his lip (flipping him off), “Ah-, Qumad come on, it’s a low risk investment it really is, just go in, trade a little, get some gold, and sell the info we get to the guilds. No matter what we get guild money so very worst you get your money back safe and sound.” “So you’re telling me, you...how much?” “8,000 Suwon. “8-, god’s sake, 8,000 Suwon for a half-baked venture exploring what your hnotes show as uncharted jungle? H-how are you even getting out there?” “Walkers.” “God what’d you think of this last night?” “It’s possible.” Temer spoke up, “Walkers are good for tough terrain, they don’t require the mires. We take 3; 2 transport, 1 supplies. Walkers can last from here to the jungle, then sustain themselves from water and jungle plants leaving us to carry only food and water filters. If we move efficiently we could reach the jungles edge within 2 weeks. If we pack it light we can leave enough room for a ton of trading supplies.” “W-what are you morons even trying to trade with out there?!” Qumad cupped his head in his hands, “this entire plan is insane. “Qumad, listen,” Kawar spoke up, “we’re all hurting from the Cher closure; we all got folks’t need feeding. Sure we don’t know what’s out there but this could be the one chance we have left. Guilds may not pay top coin for the maps but if the damn Western Kingdom’s sending entire fleets we gotta take that chance.” Qumad glared at him, remaining st8ill for several moments, “What do you need.” Kawar let out a sigh of relief, “God, thank you brother, you don-” “What. Do you need.” “Just a donation for the 3 walkers, I gotta couple shareholders with the Devaar guild in Akaz’quaram covering supply costs.” “You already bought the walkers. Didn’t you.” Kawar grinned sheepishly. “What’d I do without you.” • • • • • • • • • That Morning; Before Dawn • • • • • • • Kawar’s eyes shot open. He and the rest of the crew had been camping out on mats in the southern stables, a mixture of ditch, rocky outcropping, and round mud-sand roof high above them to fit the Walkers. “Wait a minute.” He sat up sharply, listening; the soft insect rumble of the sleeping mire-walkers around them echoed throughout the huge chamber, but outside was only an eerie silenced. His eyes widened, “the dust’s stopped. Guys!” “W-what.” Nhazii responded, the lad rubing his eyes tiredly. Kawar spran to his feet, “the Dust stopped!” he was shouting now, “Up-up-up the wind’s died down!2 Get your rat’s asses up it’s time to head out!” “God actual damnit,”Qhava mumbled as she stretched, the other members of the group slowly getting up as they realized what was going on. “Not paying you for that lip,” Kawar quipped, “now get that ass up we wanna get moving before another dust flurry kicks up or the tabes decide to bless us with another Thermal Storm.” “Loud morning as usual Imaham? (leader).” Temer joked, tightening the starboard balance-straps of one of the huge animals, the other scrambling up their six legs onto their saddles -more huts really- to fasten on the rest of the gear. “Watch yerself boys on this mission i’m the sun; Nahzii help me get the doors open, Qhava, Madat, you two help too.” Kaar yelled out as the four of them got to work opening the thick, curtain esque doors leading to the long tunnel heading outside. The familiar deep, insectoid whine erupted from one of the walkers as her chains detached, and as Temer eased up on the reigns connected to her neck plating she began to crawl out toward the surface, eager to stretch her long legs for the journey ahead.
Mark of the Yuar
• • • • • • • • Aliim’yhrall - months later • • • • • • • •
“Tiyn? Tiyn can you hear me?” Kva leaned back in confusion; There was no response, Tiyn's head remained lowered, his arms down by his sides. The amulet glowed a sickly alien white light. "Yuar divides, what is that thing?" He went to reach for the amulet. Tiyn's hand shot up, gripping Kva’s wrist as it closes on the amulet. His head was still lowered. "That is ill-advised, Miasmismoa." The voice was not Tiyn's. Kva jerked back, "what are you..." "He left me with a juvenile. A grovelling, petulant child. He forced me to use Firasi as a vessel, yet you are all stained by Hearth." Tiyn's head raised slowly. His eyes blazed with rage and passion. His expression drawn to match this. "Everything you have been told is a lie, Miasmismoa." "Firasi? Mia-miasmoa- what on the Holy land are you saying?" Kva slowly began to divert his attention to the amulet, "what do you mean everything is a lie?" Tiyn, or rather the amulet-being within, frowned. "The language is weak. I do not possess the words. I have only the basic knowledge of Firasi-tongue." There was a pause, a look of contemplation came over Tiyn's face. "I can learn the words only through touch." He indicated towards the amulet. "You must touch, Miasmismoa. You will learn the words you do not know and this one will learn the words required." Kva pulls his arm from Tiyns, they'd tested the thing, they knew it wasn't magical. So what the hell was it...This was a bad idea, that was the last thing Kva thought as he reached forward again to touch it. As Kva made contact with the amulet there was a flash of bright white light and then blackness. He was only out for a few seconds. Once he came to he had an implicit understanding, like he'd known his whole life. The words, their meanings were clear Miasmismoa, the misguided, the sullied or the violated Firasi, mortal Yet he could conceptualize them in sound only. He knew they were spelt in characters he could not conceive in an alphabet not meant for him or his kind. "I have the words, though it is only of so much use for it is my being that is shattered. I can only grant so much in this form, the being is not whole." He watched Kva regain composure somewhat. "You have some grasp of my tongue, do not attempt to write down the words, if your mind could even comprehend the script. Do not impart this meaning to others. The words are not for Firasi." He was still in a daze but managed a simple "Who are you." "The self is not whole, the name is not known. You may call this one Passage. This one knows the truth." "why...why are you doing this? What do you want?" The being sat there for several long moments. "Freedom," it said finally. "To be made whole and returned. To recover Expanse and to deliver justice to Hearth." "To be made whole... You fight against the Yuar then? You're from the beyond aren't you? A soul from the great journey?" "The beyond is a name to which it goes. This one is not firasicosic." There was a pause. Tiyn looked around the room quickly. He returned his gaze to Kva with a concerned look. "He does not know this one has escaped the second circle. He would burn and rend a million firasicosic to scour the land of this one. I must depart. You must take this one to your authority. Take this one to them. Do not trust your God." “Firasicosic? Wait don't-" Kva froze, the last lines of the being echoing in his skull, Do not trust your God. Your god? He wants me to take him to the Holy City? your god I- ... "Cycles of the Ahnsijn guide us all." Tiyn's head dropped again. The amulet darkened. After a few moments Kva could hear a groan. "My head...I'm not sure I can be much help to you, I've just gotten the most terrible headache." "In that case, you should go wrest." Kva responded curtly, it was taking all his effort to curtail his breathing, he needed to think. "Return to your chambers brother, food and water will be brought on your request." The final words still burned in his mind. Do not trust your God.... "rest, it seems like you need it."
Lovestory
• • • • • • • • Abel, Lexidus• • • • • • • •
What...were these things? Túrm glanced around the room of the small building. Most of the livable-buildings it seemed were made of a mixture of stone and wood, but none of their symbols made any sense, let alone the fact that he couldn’t read. The only reason he chose to go inside this one was because of the stream of people he saw hovering around it, but now he was beginning to seriously regret his decision. The majority were westerners, he could tell from the simple features and white skin, but there were other...he didn’t know what to call them but they were certainly not human. He winced as one of them collapsed onto the floor but caught looks from one of the people behind a long counter. God this was gonna suck, “Suhamed...Nuvak kyaat...Luhemn?” the man gave him a funny look; okay so his scratchy Gogher wasn’t going to work, what was the other language they spoke here? “You I” he paused, dammit they have different pronouns, “You me help find place?” This language was stupid.
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Post by Au Minbo on Apr 3, 2019 14:13:18 GMT -5
Prince-Regent Otumi Hato, Omo-Touo Castle
“The traders came quickly sir.” “Indeed they did, it seems profit is of great concern to this people from the north.” Said Otumi. Beside him was his son, Uzo Hato, governor of the capital province. The young man had a hunger of his own for recognition, a hunger which quickly drove him through the ranks of the Royal Navy and then eventually into a position of power as a Provincial Governor. It was this hunger that brought him to the Otumi today. “I have been thinking recently about these traders and what they mean to this Kingdom. Trade is going to be one of the most profitable ventures we could enter into in this new age of openness. These Lexiduns have established colonies all around us, settlements set up to create clear trade lines and to enrich only themselves. I ask you this, father, why cannot we have this as well? My request of you today, which is a request I bring to you from both myself and other members of this new ‘mercantile’ faction in the Chamber of Lords, to establish a guild whose sole purpose is the establishment of new settlements, strategically along the coasts to the north and south east and to develop our own trading empire.” Otumi smiled at his son as he finished speaking, knowing that his son had been cobbling together this faction in the Chamber to create just this thing, a way to enrich both the nation and theirselves. Speaking up he said, “I thank you son for bringing this petition to me. I agree that something must be done to combat the expansion of these people. Tell your followers that you have been well received by me and that you will hear soon my verdict.” Smiling, Uzo said back, “Yes sir, thank you for hearing me out father.” And he left. King Omo XIII Hato, Almais Island
King Omo gazed over the main settlement on this island. Colonized only recently by the Lexiduns, the settlement had grown to such an extent that what remained of the King’s fleet could replenish their supplies and carry on. For three weeks they rested and replenished as the King grew more and more accustomed to his one hand. Writing was just about impossible, feeding himself was awkward, and the sword he could once competently handle now lay uselessly in a chest. Their arrival had been lackluster. The locals, while confused about the strange sails which had appeared on the horizon were surprisingly not excited to be visited by royalty, even if it were of a foreign nation. As he was looking over the settlement, the captain of the ship came towards him steadily. “Your Majesty, I have news from the leader of this settlement. It seems their ruler, King Blair, has called for a meeting of the leaders of the continent to discuss dealing with the defiler in the continent, specifically this seems to be a call to arms to destroy it once and for all. It seems this King Blair sent word to you about this meeting, but the ship bearing his letter has already come and gone from this port.” He spoke clearly, but quietly so as to not startle the King from his thoughts, and to keep prying ears from listening in. The King did not move, nor did he speak once the captain had finished his report. He only stood there, thinking to himself. He was so deep in thought that he only woke from it with a sharp register of pain in his right arm. Looking down the King only now realized he had been rubbing where his hand once was and must have done so a little too hard on his still mending stump. Looking up at the Captain he began. “Thank you Captain. Prepare a letter of my own, addressed to the Prince-Regent, commanding him to raise the banners and gather an army. I want it sent out on the fastest ship we have left.” “Yes sir. If I may ask though, what are the orders for the rest of the fleet?” “Orders? We sail further north, to wherever this meeting is supposed to take place.” Said the King. Prince-Regent Otumi Hato, Omo-Touo Castle
The messenger from King Blair had arrived three days ago, bearing gifts meant for the King, and a letter addressed to him as well. The letter had scarcely entered Otumi’s hands before he had it opened. Awash with pleasantries and the opening of the “Southwest passage” to Oromi ships and traders. Along with this came the warning, and a request for aid in this war against the monster itself. Not entirely sure of what he should do, Otumi had waited three days to think about this request, and it was on the third day that he received a letter from King Omo himself, also demanding that he raise a host to combat this enemy. Now it was decided for him, the armies of Kanso-Oromi would march north to meet near Lexidus and join in this campaign against it, but not in the way that anyone expected them too. Gathering paper close to him, he began to write and would not stop until hours later. Tipene Maata, Naga-tuo Island
The kettle that was the situation on Nata-tuo island had come to a boil. Royal forces had largely been wiped out or fled back to the mainland. What little human communities existed on the island had been razed and their populace removed. In the largest settlement on the island, leaders from the various groups of cats came together. Gathered around a great fire, illuminated only by the flames, Tipene spoke first. “Brothers, today we come together, a united people, against the forces of Men. King Omo and his lackeys thought we would cower on this island and take our beatings silently.” He paused, “I for one refuse to be beat anymore. I hope that with our forces brought here in a united front, we can work together to ensure permanent separation from the forces of those who have exploited our people for centuries.” As he finished a large group of his people yowled in support of him. Looking around, there was a gray muzzled elder who stood nearby and stepped forward next to speak. “My kin, I know we all hate the King for what he has done to us, how his people beat us down until we could do nothing else but lash out, but I must issue this warning. The humans will not take this lightly. Soldiers will come, and with them will bring a dark time for us all. What can we hope to do against soldiers with superiors arms and armor? With the blessings of those of us gathered here I propose that we treat with the King in his palace and come to an agreement on how our people can be treated better.” As he spoke some around him grew more hostile, to the point that when he began to make his point on going to the King to treat with him, some of them were hissing darkly at him. For hours the debate would go on, with the fire fed continuously by timber taken from the frames of ruined human homes. By the end, they had agreed on little except that they were now united against the men of Kanso, and that Tipene must lead them. “You” they had said, when he inquired as to who should be their leader. “Why?” he had asked. “You are the one who began our revolution Tipene, and it is you who must bring to us a free home for all of us.” By the end of the night Tipene had been elected as the first Great Chief of Naga-tuo Island. Hato Market Square
Early in the morning the fishmongers and butchers, the first ones to open their doors in the morning and get to work in preparation for the day ahead, heard the hammers at work posting the latest action from the government. Usually only one is posted every other week, today there were four. BY ORDER OF PRINCE-REGENT OTUMI HATO, CHANCELLOR the company of the Merchants Trade Association is hereby granted a Royal Charter and will henceforth be known as the Royal Trading Association. This Charter grants rights unto the association, including the rights to establish settlements, enforce laws, collect taxes and duties, and to regulate trade in their property. The establishment of trade settlements shall be granted in perpetuity to the Royal Trading Association and no other group. BY ORDER OF PRINCE-REGENT OTUMI HATO, CHANCELLOR the cats of Naga-tuo island are henceforth to be regarded as traitors of the realm. All of the rights granted to the race of cats are hereby revoked in perpetuity. All good citizens are asked to report to their local tax collector to report any sightings of those creatures for immediate arrest. A reward will be provided based upon the number of Naga captured from the knowledge reported to the authorities. BY ORDER OF PRINCE-REGENT OTUMI HATO, CHANCELLOR the lands of Shikuso between Kanso, Oromi, and the great seaway shall be opened for the establishment of new settlements. Land grants shall be issued to any who come forth in the number of 10 hectares for every claimant. 9 hectares shall be for the use of the settler with the 10th hectare set aside for the establishment of a village center. Every other village center shall contain a garrison to provide for the greater security of our nation. BY ORDER OF THE KING all Lords of the realm are hereby called to raise a host of soldiers to congregate on the eastern border of the Kingdom. A state of war now exists between the forces of the defiler and the Kingdom of Kanso-Oromi. In conjunction with all other forces of Man the armies shall march North, to the Kingdom of Lexidus and begin the campaign against the Dark God of Magic. PS: Here is a link to an image of a map describing, in general terms, the approximate areas and names of the lands that surround KO. The borders of Kanso on this map are those of the actual Kingdom, but the borders of Oromi do not correspond to the borders of the old Kingdom, only being here to show an approximate area referred to as "Oromi." i.imgur.com/vne5t2m.png
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Post by axeldonia on Apr 9, 2019 16:51:56 GMT -5
Meeting Place, No Man's Land
The wind blew through the empty plains below, the stars twinkling as brilliantly as any other night. Positioned on a nearby hill was a lone Squidspawn, dressed in dark blue loose-fitting pants and a shirt, along with fingerless leather gloves and checkered blue-white scarf wrapped around her neck. She maintained absolute silence as she kept her gray eyes fixed on the camp, her arms crossed across her chest in a slightly tense manner. Despite her seeming state of alertness, she failed to notice a dark shape making its way up the hill, stopping just a few steps behind her. “So you’re Lovise Longmoor, Huh? I’ll be honest, your first impression isn’t very awe-inspiring. Then again, you’re all like this the first time we meet.” The Squid overlooking the camp simply glanced back at the shape, dropping her shirt just low enough to reveal an anchor-shaped birthmark on her upper back. “Next you’re gonna say ‘My name is Octavia, aren’t you?’ ” The shape behind her gave a fanged smirk, emerging to reveal a girl clad in a black kimono lined with a purple pattern, along with a small parasol in a similar colour-palette. “You may have expected Octavia, but it was me, Dianne!” “What?” Lovise spun around, visibly shaken and assuming an aggressive posture. “That’s my thing!” “Pfeh, you think you’re the first? Stop kidding around now. Show me what you’re made of.” Lovise didn’t answer. She simply made a mad dash towards Dianne, her eyes sparkling with energy. TO BE CONTINUED Abel, Lexidus
“I ca- Hic! can help you find a place!” Angerid stumbled back onto her legs, looking slightly more coherent than when she keeled over. She miraculously made her way over to the counter unscathed, hoisting herself ontop of it to get on the same level as the barkeep and the newcomer. “Don’t w-worry, I’ve translated for people before.” She seemed to somehow be talking to both of them and none of them at the same time, situational awareness being more a sliding scale than a concrete phenomenon for her at the moment. She briefly wobbled around on the counter and almost fell off before restoring her balance, casting the newcomer what was probably intended to be a sultry look, but the actual facial expression produced looked more sleepy and at the same time obsessive. “If you want to, I would gladly share my bed with you…” As if punished by the holy mother for her terrible pick-up game, she slid forwards and tumbled back down onto the floor harmlessly with a giggle.
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