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Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 4, 2019 21:46:44 GMT -5
Lexidun Command Tent, Quijain
"I see," Kalċidon said as Blair finally explained what had happened to him, "While the merchants I cannot say if they had been through trying times, I am all too aware of the loss of a cherished one. Before you arrived, I had a discussion with General Lewis and we shared stories of our youth: one of my tales concerned my wife, Konċetta, and of her passing many years ago - while it wasn't from a Yrutan assault or from hostiles, I was forced to separate from her and let her die from illness rather than let my opponents claim the lives of her and Erin."
Erin began to speak up, anger quickly flashing across his face, "Chancellor, don't you think that this is a bit too perso-" Kalċidon raised a clenched fist in the air, Erin cutting himself off as Kalċidon continued, not even facing him.
"Erin, my son, I understand that what happened with your mother and me forcing the both of you into exile was something that you spent years brooding on, but understand this: I was not the commander of the Falanx, and I made myself weak by being indebted to those officers who assisted me in gaining Savla ak-Tarcan's seat. My actions in slaying the officers of the 576th Falanx in Varan were to begin atoning for that, but I cannot simply make amends from the spilling of blood. Erin, you are my son, you have always been my son, and you will always be my son - you may continue to call yourself the Son of No One, but I will always be there to defend you, as a father should. I will not leave you alone again."
Erin stared widely at him the entire time, a stunned look across his face as Kalċidon spoke. Finally, he quietly stepped forward and whispered, "Apologies, but I must request for some time alone."
Kalċidon nodded, "You are free to do what is needed."
As Erin stepped out of the tent, Kalċidon turned back to Blair, "My apologies, but Erin is still just a boy, what had occurred to him deeply impacted him and I believe his taking command of the 9th Guards was a coping mechanism. He will be more level-headed once I talk with him. As I was saying, I am more than aware of it: aside from Erin, some of my entourage have felt such loss as well. Żaren, Kyre, will you forgive my intrusion and share of what the both of you have been through."
"I understand, Chancellor," Kyre said as he stepped forward, additionally gesturing for Żaren to stand up, "Rìgh na Lexidus, forgive my horrible structuring, my grandparents died before they could teach me Celtmaric. What the Chancellor was talking about concerned my wife and Żaren's mother, Katarina: several years before, we had seen her pass away following a bout of illness, and the grief took me several years to recover from. It wasn't until we came here and I started talking with Liena," he paused, gesturing over to Liena, who nodded and gave a small wave over to Blair, "That I finally began to move on. I'm guessing he wants us to let you know that this Eimear, whether she was just a friend or someone you loved, and I'm guessing it was the latter since I've seen that same look in your eyes back when I was younger, must have been devastating to lose, and that you are not alone in feeling this way. This may be out of my pay rank and of protocol, but if you want, I can talk it out with you, if need be, Sir. Also, while my grandparents moved from Abel to Kyras long before I was ever born, I will stand for both of you to take revenge for what happened in Camelon."
"That is all, Sir Kyre," Kalċidon said, Kyre stepping back as Żaren continued to remain standing.
"Sir, do you wish for me to explain about my feelings when my mother died?"
"You can if you wish, but the choice is up to you."
Żaren stood quietly for a few seconds, electing to finally sit down, "I believe Father explained it perfectly, but I can see that what happened in Camelon was something that could have been avoided if this 'divine contact thing' had come earlier, or something. My apologies, but this 'Messiah' role is still new to me, and I am still trying to get a grasp of it."
"We understand, Sir Żaren," Kalċidon said, electing to continue staring at Blair, "While our own personal losses are unlike that of you with Eimear, my people know all too well of the threat the Cursed Hordes have done to our livelihoods. Long before any of this, the Western War was our campaign against the Yrutan hordes that attacked us: they had razed many villages, slaughtered many innocents, and ultimately helped to turn Western Kyras into the glass-laden desert it is today. Many losses occurred, but we stood tall in the end, and crushed the necks of the fuckers who committed these atrocities. Know that my men and I will give no quarter to the Hordes: we stand firm, and we stand for the names of those lost in Western Kyras, in Amnest, and in Camelon."
Electing to address Blair's comments over the mercenaries and the Citizen's Crusade, Kalċidon began after taking a sip of chapalva, "While I understand that you feel strongly for these mercenaries, and for the conviction of those wanting to avenge their fallen, know that I cannot simply trust words alone. This is a war, and we must have soldiers fighting alongside us, not paper lions: I must see if they shall make their stand and fight well against the Hordes, rather than balk under the blades of savages." Taking another sip, Kalċidon felt it must be stressed: he had seen more than enough death and ruin to compartmentalize the memories and use the anger to fight, but civilians and paid soldiers that were likely bandits in-between contracts were another thing. 'If they break under the pressure of it all, Sir Blair, know that my men and I will be swift in delivering our grievances to you.'
"We must have everything we can to destroy these hordes: if they are like what you encountered in Camelon, then it will be a difficult battle, but if they are foreign to anything we have faced before, then we must gather our intelligence and decipher what we can. If you are willing, I believe that we should share what we have between the Lexiduns who have proper knowledge of these Yrutan forces and the priests of the Temple of War that have records of the Western War."
Before he could continue, a Kyran courier ran into the tent, Kyre and Varist moving quick to engage the man, "Is-Sinjura Kanċillier!" (Mister Chancellor!) The courier spoke in Ilsien, having ran from the outskirts of the encampment to the Command Tent.
"Iva, għaliex tinterrompi, il-kurrier tiegħi?" (Yes, why do you interrupt, my courier?) Kalċidon curtly asked, looking at the man who was hunched over and panting, "Xi aħbarijiet għandek?" (What news do you have?)
"Ir-Rozhai, daħlu fuq il-Walkers tagħhom, jipproklamaw li l-Messija u Sharovan dalwaqt jaslu mal-Gōgher u l-Karthagites. Huma wegħdu l-appoġġ tagħhom għall-ġlieda kontra l-Maħtuba," (The Rozhai, they have come upon their Walkers, they proclaim that the messiah and a Sharovan are arriving along with the Gōgher and the Karthagites. They pledge their support in the struggle against the Cursed One) the courier babbled, pausing to take a drink before continuing to be hunched over, panting slightly.
"Diġà konxju ta 'dan: it-tifel-re u s-sentry tiegħu hawnhekk qalulna inqas minn ftit minuti ilu," (I am already aware of that: the boy-king and his sentry here just told us less than a few minutes ago) Kalċidon nonchalantly said, gesturing to Blair and Dunsley before directing himself back to the man, "Jekk m'hemm xejn iktar trid tgħidli, inti tiċħadlek." (If there is nothing else you have to tell me, you are dismissed.)
"Hemm ħaġa oħra: Ġenerali Vyrodok jasal fi żmien tlett ijiem, huwa jiddikjara li huwa li jgħin fit-tmexxija tal-unitajiet tal-Gwardja Repubblikana fil-kmand hawnhekk, u ninfurmak dwar attività militari mifruxa li qed issir barra mill-ordnijiet tiegħek dwar il-Underground, imma kellu ftit iktar biex jaqsam." (There is one more thing: General Vyrodok is arriving within three days, he claims it is to assist in directing the Republican Guard units in command here, and to inform you of a wide-scale military activity being done outside of your orders concerning the Underground, but he had little else to share.) The courier finally stood up, already anticipating the hate-filled rant about to come from Kalċidon.
"Qed tgħidli li dik l-eskrement tal-vaġina miksija b'ħama skuża ta 'bniedem irid jipprova u jitlob li jieħu kmand ta' unitajiet li hu stess ta l-approvazzjoni espressa biex jissellef. Meta tara li jaslu, għidlu, u f'ebda mod inċert, li jista 'jmur ixxuttja ruħu u jirritorna lura lejn il-Patrija, għax jien mhux ser jagħtih il-ħin tal-ġurnata u lanqas xi rispett allegat għal raġel li ma jistħoqqx tiegħu. grad. Jekk hu jilmenta, ħallih lili u jien ser nittratta s-sitwazzjoni jien stess." (Are you telling me that that slime-coated vaginal excrement excuse of a human being dares to try and ask to take command of units he himself had given express approval to lend over. When you see him arrive, tell him, and in no uncertain terms, that he can go fuck himself and return back to the Fatherland, because I will not give him the time of day nor any purported respect to a man that does not deserve his rank. If he complains, direct him to me and I will handle the situation myself.) Kalċidon ranted, gesturing for the courier to leave, with Varist stepping forward to pull the courier aside.
"Għid lir-Rozhai li huma ħielsa li jqiegħdu l-Walkers tagħhom ma ’l-inħawi tagħna, u li jinteraġixxu mal-forzi fiż-żona jekk iridu hekk." (Tell the Rozhai that they are free to set their Walkers with our encampments, and to interact with the forces in the area if they so desire.) He said, the courier walking away as Varist stepped over to calm Kalċidon down after hearing word of his rival.
"Sir, I believe it is best to explain why this is a bad situation," Varist said, gesturing for Kalċidon to sit. Taking a deep breath, Kalċidon sat back down, turning to face Blair.
"My apologies on the outburst, but it appears that a certain excuse of a human being and all-around hate-infected cunt by the name of Vyrodok is coming to assist in the matter. Before you ask, I must make things clear: I am not alone in terms of command - there is currently a General's Council being formed by my junior officers and I to begin discussing on how to direct our forces and to integrate them with the other units at our command. One of our commands, as I said earlier, lies in the Republican Guard: Vyrodok happens to be their commanding officer and avoided the fate of the other generals in the 576th Falanx that I had ordered be executed by using his forces to resist. We came to an agreement and he has been granted some autonomy in actions. Before the Conquest Force left for here, I had consulted Vyrodok to lend several of his Republican Guard units over to assist with hunting the Cursed One down, and he had agreed to do so. Now, it appears he wishes to commit some power-playing issues I was to address before this Crusade was declared. I need to make this as understandable as possible: do not trust Vyrodok. No matter how affable he acts to you if he approaches, do not give him the time of day, for that man is a monster with well-deserved ill repute: no matter how my men act at their worst, he stands as the most terrible human being to walk this land, even more so than the Yrutan forces."
Turning away, Kalċidon muttered, "Tajjeb, jien mwaħħal hawn għal ġimgħatejn oħra ma 'tifel raġel imkisser b'mod psikoloġiku, tifel li ma jridx x'taqsam miegħi, u l-aħħar persuna assoluta li ridt nittratta lura d-dar, ħafna inqas hawn waqt kampanja biex jiddeterminaw id-destin ta ’l-umanità. Liema xortih mill-isbaħ għalija li nservi." (Great, I'm stuck here for another two weeks with a psychologically-broken man-child, a son who wants nothing to do with me, and the absolute last person I wanted to deal with back home, much less here during a campaign to determine the fate of mankind. What splendid luck for me to endure.). Giving a polite cough, he turned to face Blair, "Given Sir Dunsley also announced that the forces from Kanso-Oromi have also arrived here, I suggest that it is best that our forces go and greet the procession, along with directing their leader here to continue the discussion."
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Post by thevalleianorders on Jun 7, 2019 15:04:48 GMT -5
Book Three: RebirthCalveria Alternis RPPart OneConclusion to the Imperial Vytyylic Conclave of Syurthas, Lingenic Order:
“There shall be silence!” Ordered Aparaius as the last session of the Vytyylic Conclave was set in motion. As he said this, he remembered the rush of the past months of Conclave, from disputes between the Prysmytyrs to the development of concensus between the assembled. These few months were marked with increased foreign contact, culminating in a demand of help from a foreign king. “The reading of this Conclave’s edict will now commence. The Rytyr-Prysmytr of the Syurthan See may commence.”
All eyes now looked towards Garia’s place next to the Imperator, waiting to hear what they have been working on. Garia began,
“RECOGNIZING the dire threats placed against our most holy Communion of Orders and the Imperial authority that binds it, as evidenced by civil and military unrest throughout the Orders; COMPELLED by the consensus of this most August assembly of Prysmytyrs; and DEEMING it necessary that emergency powers be invoked; it shall be made known that:
“The Imperial Communion will accept the appointment of three Dytatyryts, of whom the Imperator may appoint three Dytatyrs that shall oversee the following emergency actions,
“The Imperial Communion will recognize the pleas of the foreigners of Lexidus by sending ten legions to aid in the ‘Crusading effort’, that are to be lead by a sole Dytatyryt of War,
“The Imperial Communion will authorize open and continuous relations with heretical realms by sending full diplomatic expeditionary fleets, that are to be directed by a sole Dytatyryt of Peace,
“The Imperial Communion will allocate necessary resources for the internal development of infrastructure to aid in domestic projects and foreign expeditions, which are to be managed by a sole Dytatyryt of Resources,
“Be it RESOLVED, in light of the consensus of the most August Pyrysmytrs in Conclave assembled, with the full authority of the Imperial Communion, by Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, that these Edicts be adopted immediately.”
As the Rytyr-Prysmytr, finished speaking, the entirety of the Conclave erupted in one single voice, “May it be done!”
“There shall be silence,” Aparaius ordered again. “As we have come to our final conclusion, I am glad to declare this Conclave DISPERSED. By Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, go forth.”
The Study, Imperial Palace, Edinginia, Two weeks after the Conclave:
The transit back to the Imperial Capital was a prolonged affair, having lasted two weeks instead of the regular three days. This grueling time of waiting at overcrowded interior ports and barely moving through congested canals now yielded to a rush of planning and logistics for the Imperator’s court.
“Three Dytatyryts,” Aparaius repeated to himself as he thought of who would be appointed. “Three Dytatyrs whose tenures were not restricted by the Conclave, an unprecedented occurrence.”
“This is an unprecedented situation,” Gabriel replied. “The demands that are being placed on the Imperial Court do justify such power.”
“It should be remembered,” Prysmytr Sylias warned, “that our actions will set precedent for the future. Dytatyrs have never been appointed on an Imperial level, so we should observe local-”
“That isn’t important at the moment,” Alexiana interrupted. “Appoint the Dytatyrs and we’ll have them step down once the situation has been handled.”
Aparaius contemplated silently as the debate in his study continued like a furious storm. Verbal swords thrust and parried, with the feints of diplomacy passing over the Imperator’s head. At last, Aparaius spoke, “Prysmytr Sylias, sister Alexiana, I have come to my decision.”
The debate froze right when those words left the Imperator’s mouth. Almost immediately, they asked in unison, “Who will you appoint?”
Aparaius began, “Sister, your diplomatic abilities are comparable to no other. Your Diplomatic service has become the only successful expedition to the outside world.” Alexiana began to sweat profusely, as her brother continued, “As such, I the Imperator, by Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, do proclaim you Dytatyr of Peace as is defined by the Imperial Edict of the Syurthan Conclave.”
“Brother, such would lead the nation to thin-“
Aparaius continued, undeterred, “Prysmytr Sylias, the Grandmaster who dreamt of making the desert fertile, whose eye for detail is second to none,” The old Prysmytr settled himself on a nearby chair, understanding what was to pass. “As such, I the Imperator, by Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, do proclaim you Dytatyr of Resources as is defined by the Imperial Edict of the Syurthan Conclave.”
“If it must past, let it be so by Li-“
“Gabriel, take note of this and have it sent immediately,” Aparaius told his Aide. “To the retired Captain Pytyyn, whose Myyrtyrship of the Callenian legions was considered the best, who put down the post-quake revolts; let it be known that I the Imperator, by Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, do proclaim you Dytatyr of War, as is defined by the Imperial Edict of the Syurthan Conclave.”
“Noted,” Gabriel stated succinctly, rushing off to deliver the message to the belfry of the Imperial Palace.
This air of restless action soon pervaded the rest of the study, with the four discussing the specifics of diplomacy and logistics. Soon, the voices that were once directed against each other were now working in harmony. Swords that were once faced against each other now directed towards the outside world, strategizing and coordinating their blows.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 11, 2019 16:14:11 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
"I..." he paused. In that moment, he had never felt so ashamed and awkward. He had lashed out at the people in front of him, towards to these unfamiliar strangers and found people the same as him. People who had loved, who had lost and who had their own problems. He had to control himself, regain his composure and salvage this situation he was in.
"We have all suffered and for that I apologise... Yes. I did love her and every moment she is not with me is an agony. I... miss her so." Blair stared at the ground as he spoke. His voice solemn and expression pained.
"I would..." he felt the words cling to his throat, pushing with all his might to say what he wanted and stay composed. "I would appreciate a talk and accept your offer Kyre."
He slowly felt his composure return to him and as such his senses. Now was the time for something to lighten the mood, the atmosphere in the room was excruciatingly dark.
"...don't worry about your structuring, you just spoke like a proper Lexidun!"
He let a smile return to his face, lifting his eyes from the ground and across the entourage. Kalċidon unwavering gaze nearly made him buckle in cringe but he avoided holding eye contact for too long.
"Kalċidon. I assure you, all of the Western forces will stand and fight, if there is one thing we are united by in this hemisphere it is our unwavering nature and ability to hold our ground. They will not break. Soon we shall prove this to you."
Confidence returned to him and the wraith, which had been hovering behind the entourage trying to catch Blair's attention, pouted and then dissipated. His nerve shortly followed and Blair felt like himself again, emboldened.
"Lexidun information and intelligence will be an open book to you Kalċidon, we will pool what we can together and know our enemy as we cut them down." Blair returned his gaze to Kalċidon, watching the older man receive his news, raising his eyebrow slightly at Kalċidon's angry gestures and ranting in the Kyran tongue.
Blair sat next to Kalċidon as he returned to his seat. Seeing the, up until then, composed older man become quite agitated reassured Blair somewhat. We're all under pressure in our own ways, he thought to himself. Blair even let out a slight chuckle at Kalċidon's precision usage of the word cunt. "Seeing as you are the one who greeted me first and opened your heart to me. You need not fear Kalċidon. I will be wary of this Vyrodok, that I promise." He gave a reassuring nod as he clapped his hands together. "Sergeant! Bring the Kanso-Oromi to the command tent we currently inhabit. It is time to begin the meeting of all of Calveria's finest!"
Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, No Man's Land - Quijain
He left the tent almost as swiftly as he had entered it. What an awkward interruption that was, Myratnis above. Thankfully he was the only officer in the room at the time, the guardsmen there wouldn't tease him about thats for sure but if Lewis was there? He shuddered, he didn't want to imagine the sheer amount of ribbing he would get. The general was merciless in that regard. His old mate Joseph was the worst for it, Dunsley wondered how he was doing, he made a mental note to write to him soon. Descending the hillock from where the command tent sat overlooking thousands of troops, he spotted them. They were unlike any civilisation he had ever seen before, nothing he had read, heard or even thought about. So these were the Kanso-Oromi? They were human, that was certain but their clothing was unlike anything he had seen before. He scanned them as he approached closer, giving his best salute to the strange foreigners and standing at attention.
"Hail, King Omo Hato. My name is Sergeant Dunsley Hovis of the Standing Army of Lexidus, ward to General Hersham Lewis and retainer to his majesty King Blair de Brus. If you would be so kind to follow me, I will escort you to the command tent where he is currently engaged with representatives from the eastern nation of Kyras."
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Post by Percyton on Jun 13, 2019 0:12:41 GMT -5
Stanley Castle, near Great Waterton, Northern Locomati Island P. T. Boomerius
Beechtorius and Diesalion X were sitting at a small round table. A third seat was left empty, as they awaited the arrival of their leader.
“So,” Diesalion said to the human mage, “what do you think Boomerius called us here for?”
Beechtorius shrugged. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it better be important. I was in the middle of practice, but Boomerius told me this couldn’t wait. I swear, if he called us for another lecture on some vision or mystic mumbo-jumbo—“ Before Beechtorius could finish his sentence, the double doors of the room creaked open, and there stood the Yrutan mage P. T. Boomerius. He walked in stood behind the empty seat.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Boomerius began in his usual oily voice. “I hope you two are well.”
Beechtorius grunted. “Well enough, considering your interruption earlier.” Boomerius ignored his human associate however and looked at Diesalion. Diesalion was glancing at the ceiling, and Boomerius could sense that the former Northern Locomati Duke’s mind was elsewhere at the moment.
Boomerius turned toward him. “You seem distracted today, Diesalion,” Boomerius said. “Is something bothering you?”
“Uh, n-no sir,” Diesalion stuttered. “Just… admiring the castle, sir.”
Boomerius shook his head. “I think you are doing more than examining the room’s architecture. If you have something to say, please say it now.”
“I’m fine, sir,” Diesalion replied, more forcefully this time. “Just a little tired is all.”
Boomerius decided not to press the issue. Not right now at least. There were more important things to get to. “Very well then.” He looked away from Diesalion to address both of his patners. “I am here today to announce our next plans.”
“About time,” Beechtorius muttered. “We’ve been cooped up in this castle for two weeks now, and you haven’t given us any indication of what our next move is!”
“Your impatience is understandable,” Boomerius replied. “But all that time, I have been thinking, meditating, and waiting for the right time to strike. And now I have it.” Boomerius paused to reach into a messenger bag. He took out a rolled-up piece of map, which he unrolled to reveal a map of the Dual Kingdom of the Isles. The map had each of the kingdom’s capitals marked with an ‘X’: the Northern Locomati capital at Vicarstown, the Southern Locomati capital at Norramby, the overall Locomati capital at Ballahoo, and the human and national capital at Peel Godred.
"As you know,” Boomerius went on, “King Godred and the other world leaders recently left for a crusade, intending to defeat Yrutas in-person at the Magna Tabes. However, Yrutas’ mighty power will defeat them.”
“How can you be so sure?” Diesalion interrupted.
“I trust in Yrutas’ power and foresight, and so should you.” Boomerius glanced at Diesalion with a hostile look, which quieted Diesalion. “As I was saying, Yrutas will win, and his victory will only increase his power and allow him to launch more Yrutan attacks like the one against the Lexidun capital. These attacks will undoubtedly include the Dual Kingdom, and the governments of the kingdom will be under immense strain. Of the five major government units, three of them will easily collapse under the pressure.” Boomerius gestured to the ‘X’ over Vicarstown.
“Northern Locomati Island is already unstable due to the Order’s activity and the strong power of the island’s bandits and crime lords. A Yrutan attack will be the final blow to bring everything tumbling down.” Boomerius shifted his finger to Peel Godred. “As for the human and national governments, with King Godred dead at Yrutas’ hands, and the King’s heir being an underage boy, there will be a power vacuum, with a contested regency if they’re lucky, and outright civil war if they’re not. Once again, a Yrutan attack will be the end of any organized government there.” Finally, the Locomati mage pointed at Ballahoo. “The Locomati government under Grand Duke Thomas, on the other hand, will not fall so easily. Thomas is a strong leader with no major challenges to his rule, so he can rally a defense. And if Thomas wins, his victory will embolden the Southern Locomati government at Norramby, since they’re both on the same island and Thomas can easily support them. That’s where we come in.”
Boomerius rolled up his map and put it away. He took out another paper from his bag, this one being an illustration of the Grand Ducal Castle. “Concurrent with the leaders’ battle against Yrutas, we will launch a strike on the Grand Duke’s seat of government. We will kill Grand Duke Thomas and as many government officials as we can, and then burn down the castle. Once that’s done, we’ll fan out and loot the countryside. This strike should be enough to soften the island up for a Yrutan attack, and if it isn’t, we can use our loot to fund another strike of our own.” Boomerius rolled up the illustration and threw it aside. “Are there any questions?”
"How will we know when the leaders are launching their attack?” Beechtorius inquired.
“I will be able to sense it,” Boomerius answered confidently. “I am connected to the god Yrutas spiritually, so when he is under attack, I will know right away. That is when we shall strike.” Boomerius paused. “Anything else?”
There was silence for a moment. Then Diesalion X spoke up. “Parts of this plan seen rather… harsh.”
Boomerius scoffed. “Harsh to whom, exactly?” He stepped closer to the former Locomati Duke, leaning down and getting in his face. “To the upstart Grand Duke who deposed you? To the military that defeated your rebellion? To the nation that rejected you? I’m surprised you all of people have a problem with this Diesalion.”
“Well, yes, but,” Diesalion rubbed the back of his head as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “What about all this stuff about looting the population? Is that really necessary? They haven’t done anything to us.”
Boomerius backed away from Diesalion. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll get hit by the corruption not long after, and their damaged property and stolen possessions won’t matter then. Now you need to tell me: Are you in or out?”
Diesalion took a deep breath. He put on a brave face. “I’m in, sir.”
“Louder, please? I couldn’t hear you.”
Diesalion quickly stood up and pounded his chest. “I’m in!” he yelled forcefully. “In fact, I’ll lead the attack! I want nothing more than to aid your plan, Master Boomerius!”
Boomerius gave a sinister smile. “That is good, Diesalion.” The Yrutan mage turned around. “But that won’t be necessary. I shall be leading the attack on the castle myself. But I assure you that both of you will play a key role in the attack. Everyone will, as I’m bringing in just about the entire order for our strike. With our forces combined, the Order of BR will prevail!” Beechtorius and Diesalion released a thunderous applaud for their leader, Boomerius reveling in the sound as he continued facing away from the other two. Thinking no one was watching, a remorseful look came over Diesalion’s face. He looked down as he wondered what he had signed up for.
Later that night… Diesalion X
Once again, Diesalion X was dreaming. Again he was in brown night robes, in a small dungeon-like room with only a wooden door and a small torch for lighting. He heard the door creak open. Oh no, Diesalion thought in panic, not Diesalion the First again. I better look sharp. Diesalion X stood tall and proud, hiding his fear. But when the figure steeped through the doorway, it wasn’t of Diesalion I; it wasn’t even a man at all. It was a woman, specifically Diesalion X's mother. Officially she was Duchess Francine of the Northern Locomati, but to her family, she was simply known as ‘Frankie’. Standing imperiously before Diesalion, Frankie appeared to be in her late 30s – the age when Diesalion last saw his mother – but with makeup she looked even younger. She wore a wide dark-red gown, with her black hair raised up in a beehive style.
“M-mother,” Diesalion stuttered. Out of reflex, he kneeled before the woman before him. “This is a surprise. I was expecting someone else.”
“I know,” the duchess replied coldly. Her voice had a sort of soothing and sophisticated sound, which contrasted with the harshness of her words. “Now get up! Has Diesalion the First taught you nothing, my son?”
“N-no, mother,” Diesalion X replied. “It’s just that, I wasn’t expecting you, and I thought I should show proper respect for a distinguished woman like yourself.”
Frankie smiled at the flattery. She took out a floral-pattered fan and began fanning herself with it. “While I can understand your thought process, the same rules apply even toward me: a Diesalion never bows before another. Is that understood?”
Diesalion got to his feet. “Yes, of course.” There was an awkward pause. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure mother?”
“I want to know what’s going on.” A look of disappointment came over Frankie’s face as she shook her head. “What’s happening here? You told Diesalion the First you’d get better, and now you’re reverting back to your doubt and uncertainty.”
A shamed look came over Diesalion’s face. “I’m sorry, mother. I’m trying my best to live up to the family legacy, but it’s hard to shake these feelings of regret.”
Frankie nodded and rubbed her chin. “I see. Still, I suppose I should give you some credit. You made a good recovery at the end, volunteering to lead the attack and all. Hopefully that’ll be enough to convince Boomerius so you can stay in his good graces.”
“Or enough to convince myself,” Diesalion said ruefully. “I’m surprised you want me to be concerned with how Boomerius feels about me. In life you were always the one to betray someone at a moment’s notice.”
“Only when if it served my goals,” Frankie quickly corrected, closing her fan and pointing it at Diesalion. “And that hasn’t changed. It worked for my father, and it’ll work now. It wasn’t just through force of arms that he earned the nickname ‘the Hurricane of Steeldon’, you know?” Realizing she was getting off-topic, Frankie paused and shook her fan before going on. “Anyway, keep an eye on Boomerius, and Beechtorius too for that matter. When the time is right, take them out and rule for yourself. Of course, you can’t wait too long, otherwise your only prize will be a desolate wasteland, and that would never suit our family.”
“I know.” Diesalion sighed. “And to think, I could have avoided being in this situation if I had been more careful, if I had been more like you mother. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”
“Your apology is accepted,” Frankie said flatly. “Now run along! We have work to do.” With that, the duchess turned around and exited the room, leaving her son to ponder her words.
Meeting point, former Quijain King Godred
Several days had gone by. Though the distance from the landing point to the rendezvous seemed short on Captain Andross’ map, the actual journey was long and tiring. Still, Andross has assured them they were almost there, so King Godred and his commanders tried their best to keep their spirits up.
As the group rode across the plains, a sergeant rode his horse up next to King Godred. “Your Majesty,” the officer said. “I see some tents up ahead, like some sort of camp. I think we made it.”
Godred squinted and looked ahead, and he did indeed see the tents of a military camp. “You’re absolutely right, sergeant,” the King said with big grin on his face. “We made it!” Then he rotated his body to address the other men. “We made it lads! We reached the rendezvous point!” A cheer went out from the soldiers, and they marched the last couple miles with a spring in their step.
At long last, the Dual Kingdom crusading force arriving at the meeting point. While most of the soldiers started setting up their camp, the King, his commanders, and a few retainers rode up to a tent that was bigger and more ornate than the rest. The command tent, Godred assumed. The King dismounted and entered, and saw two men standing near a table in the center of the tent. One of them looked was a regal-looking gentleman dressed similarly to the nobility of the Dual Kingdom. That must be King Blair, Godred thought. The other man* was quite foreign-looking, and Godred found the other man almost frightening in his imposing appearance. Nevertheless, Godred stepped up to the two men.
“Salutations, gentlemen!” Godred began with a smile. “Sorry I’m late, but the Dual Kingdom’s forces finally made it! I’m Godred Crovan, King of the Dual Kingdom of the Isles.” Godred’s associates dismounted and followed their king into the tent, with Godred pointing to them as he introduced them in turn. “This is my bodyguard commander Duke, my friend and second-in-command Thorkell of Kellsthorpe, and the commander of my army’s Locomati contingent James of Lanksharn. It’s a great honor to be among such powerful figures on the world stage.” Duke and Thorkell bowed respectfully toward the other men. James did nothing but smile at first, but upon seeing his companions bowing, James hastily followed suit.
* Kalċidon
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 13, 2019 17:18:03 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
"GODRED!" bellowed Blair, rising from his chair with unbridled enthusiasm. "What a surprise! We weren't expecting you for another day or two! What excellent timing!"
He vigorously shook hands with the other king, taken aback by their familiar attire which was almost Lexidun in a way. Being sure to nod at Godred's entourage as he then turned to Kalċidon.
"Godred this is Kalċidon of the Republic of Kyras, we were just expecting the arrival of the newly revealed nation of Kanso-Oromi and then you appeared! Greetings and organising is in order. Your men can set up camp anywhere on the grounds, there are thousands of soldiers already here from Titenfisca, Lexidus, Kyras, Fyllia and Asakor, now yourselves!" Blair gave a hearty laugh, a hearty grin adorning his face.
He realised at that moment that this was the perfect opportunity to propose his idea to Godred finally.
"Excuse me Kalċidon, I will return with you momentarily, I need to discuss something with the Dual Kingdom in private. Godred! Let your entourage introduce themselves to the Kyrans and we shall discuss something in my section of the command tent." He excused himself from the room, politely guiding Godred with him as they exited the section they were in, making their way to the smaller room used as a private meeting area by Blair.
"You must be exhausted my good man. Sit down and have a glass of wine! Redanian and Pontath's finest! What a trek you made to be with us, I hope your trip through the South-Eastern passage was a smooth one! That passage and the colonies there will bring our two nations closer together! Which makes sense for what I'm about to propose."
He sat next to the D-K King and poured himself a drink as well, giving a warm smile of genuine joy as he leaned forward, goblet in hand.
"Our merchants have THRIVED with one another since we contacted one another, your people were instrumental in the helping of the establishment of the Dominion of the Caldives in the passage. For that, I am eternally grateful and wish to repay you with a proposal my friend."
He leaned forward somewhat more, making sure to establish friendly but assertive eye contact, giving his best diplomatic.
"How would you like to join the Northern Alliance... or rather the Western Alliance? I know this is forward of me, forgive me but I am simply overjoyed at your sudden presence here. Why not celebrate not just your arrival but the assurance of mutual cooperation between our two nations, ensuring protection and eternal friendship between us? What do you say Godred? Join me and the Titenfiscans, let us bring the west to life!"
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Post by axeldonia on Jun 13, 2019 20:05:47 GMT -5
No Man's Land, Quijain
The sun rose over another a new row of tents in the titenfiscan camp, more recent arrivals from the trail of Mercenary Companies Titenfisca where sending to the meeting point alongside their large convoy of supplies.
Drosh yawned as the sun crept into his tent, stretching and climbing out of his sleeping bag. A few moments later, he crawled over to his partner with an angry look.
“Jake?”
“Mmph... What?”
“Where’s the tent hole?”
At this Jake sat up, looking confused, pointing to the far end of the tent.
“Goes right there, see I drew it with some ink and a feather.”
“You were supposed to cut it out with the hunting knife.”
“Dude, I’m gonna!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes!”
“So go get the hunting knife!”
“Okay, I will!”
Jake groaned and sat up, crawling over to the far side of the tent, followed by the sound of sheets getting tangled.
“I see the problem.”
“Oh, do ya?”
As she was completing her early morning inspection of the camp, Helena was interrupted by an odd muffled sound, turning out to be a cry of exasperation from one of the new tents. After finding a hunting knife lying beside it and promptly cutting it open, she glared in confusion as the two mercenaries emerged, one angrily slapping the back of the other’s head and mutedly apologizing.
That out of the way, she made her way back to the Titenfiscan command tent, greeting those already assembled and strapping on her breastplate and donning her iron coronet. The breastplate had nearly squeezed her to death the first time she put it on, the pure strain on the smiths back home making perfect fits hard to come by. She rolled her eyes to herself, recalling with an amused expression how she had to yell at a stunned Gale to find the breastplate stretcher before Titenfisca lost their duly elected representative, or something of the sort. Her train of thought was interrupted by the sudden rattling of metal outside her tent, followed by the entrance of a large Gano covered in a polished suit of red steel armour. She recalled one of the reports saying the Ganohito forces used to have armour made of hardened mushroom and that large parts of the force needed to have the armour replaced by metal. Luckily, the Frougen smiths had volounteered to make most of them, provided they got the proper metal. The armour was perhaps one of the most apt symbols for the principles of Titenfisca; a Gano design made by Frougen smiths from metal supplied by the Kobolds and traded and sold by the Squidspawn.
The Gano promptly began conversing with Gale and Helena left the tent, trying not to look too awestruck when glancing at the column of soldiers standing right outside. She was surprised at the speed of which all the different species had begun interacting with each other; not just the Titenfiscan ones, but the Titenfiscans and all the other species. Just yesterday she had seen a Frougen girl consult one of those unusual humanoids from the Kyran camp and judging from the noise every evening, others had found new friends and partners here as well. She snickered to herself, pushing the looming dread of Yrutas out of her head for a moment as she continued across the camp to complete her duties.
Unknown, Titenfisca
Fog drifted across the field as the sun slowly rose, casting it’s light on a small group dressed in cloaks of muted colours and made up of different species. They recited mumbled incantations until the sun had risen into the sky fully making one of the assembled raise their hand and step forward.
“Friends, allies and new recruits. We may not be intimately familiar, but we have all gathered here for the same purpose. A new era is dawning upon the world. The fate of Yrutas is not yet decided, but the hour will soon be at hand. And we need to be prepared whatever comes next. Either we fail and Yrutas will force us into isolation or worse, into the Sea. That, or we kill a god.”
Murmurs emerged among the assembled, but the being raised their hands once more prompting silence.
“I will not deny that Yrutas is a menace and a special case at that, but the fact remains; the gods are drifting away and we are about to kill the god that is the very closest to us. Whatever emerges from this will be like nothing we have lived through before and by coming here you assume the burden of leading us into that new world, whatever the consequences.”
The group remained silent for a few moments as a second figure stepped forward, handing the first a shovel. They raised it solemnly, before scooping up a shovelful of dirt and sticking the shovel back into the soil. At this, the assembled raised their right arm into the air, their fists clenched and uttered a cry as one.
“Mortals Endure!”
Titenfiscan trading post, Southern Calveria
Oscar could not quite believe it himself. He was standing next to the Titenfiscan representative, who in turn was watching the two cat-people busy pouring over a series of documents lying sprawled on a large wooden table. Opposite him stood his former captor still dressed in their ornate armour and glaring at him with a deadly expression, whilst their lightly-dressed islander counterpart looked much happier. The two at the table finished their bickering and looked in the direction of the Kobold representing Titenfisca, who stepped forward and took his place between the two rulers. They grabbed their quills and wrote, signing perhaps a dozen documents before finally looking up. The kobold was the first to raise his voice.
“I suppose that’s it then. With the Khatnate’s surrender and the instrument of confederation signed, I must congratulate you as the newest part of our great union. Now, I will not bother with much formality, I am sure you are both busy but I will at least demand a handshake.”
The kobold smirked a little as the two formerly bitter enemies shook hands before including the Kobold as the rest of the assembled applauded. To think all this came from a trip to return some washed-up cargo.
Southern Abel, Lexidus
Oh right, she was drunk of her ass right now and was being escorted by some stranger. Angerid giggled at the realization and then looked up at her surprisingly endearing captor. She stumbled away from him on wobbly legs, then considered for a moment how to communicate. She decided to take the easy way and fetched a paper and a piece of charcoal from inside her vest, scribbling something onto it before turning it back around to show her companion.
The picture was a simple drawing depicting the pair and showing what was presumably Katerina leading the stranger to a house, followed by simple drawings of bed, food and something that Katerina had accidentally (thankfully) smudged over with her hand.
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Post by Percyton on Jun 16, 2019 1:56:35 GMT -5
No Man’s Land, former Quijain King Godred
Godred sat next to Blair. The Dual Kingdom monarch crossed his legs and took small sips of wine as he listened to the Lexidun monarch’s proposal. When Blair was finished, Godred put down his drink and faced Blair. While part of Godred was somewhat taken aback by how friendly and assertive Blair was acting toward a fellow leader that he had only just met, the King of the Isles masked his surprise with a warm smile. After all, despite Blair’s over-eagerness, he was still a polite man who Godred had long looked forward to meeting. And the opportunities Blair promised were simply too good to pass up.
“First off,” King Godred began, “I am glad to hear our cooperation has been so fruitful. My merchants have also been giving me positive reports of our trade and the South-East Passage, so I’m glad both of us are profiting from our exchange.” Godred took another sip of wine and nodded. “Excellent wine, by the way. Truly some of the finest I’ve ever had.”
“As for your alliance proposal,” Godred went on, “I’ve admired Lexidus ever since I first learned of her, so of course I’d be more than willing to join your realm in mutual cooperation and friendship. However, you also mentioned the Titenfiscans, and I must confess I am not familiar with them. Some of my diplomats who fled your court during the attack on Camelon ended up fleeing to Titenfisca and sent back some reports, but that is the extent of my knowledge. If all three of us are to be part of this, than I would be honored if you’d introduce me to the Titenfiscan delegation to the Crusade, so we can plan out this ‘Western Alliance’ together.”
Meanwhile… Duke, James, and Thorkell
A room over, Godred’s associates James, Thorkell, and Duke had been left with the intimating Kyran leader Kalċidon. At first there was silence, neither side knowing what to make of the other. Finally, Duke spoke.
“So,” the Dwarf Locomati leader said as he sat in front of Kalċidon, “King Blair mentioned you’re from Kyras, right? I’ve heard vague tales of that place. Like your nation, the Dwarf Locomati are proud followers of Rigma, and so some of our people have traveled to Kyras to learn how Rigmaran worship is practiced there. They brought back some stories.” Duke paused and let out a chuckle. “Although some of those stories were a bit frightening.”
James and Thorkell meanwhile were just staring at their friend. To see Duke chatting it up with this strange-looking figure was a mystifying sight to behold, but eventually James and Thorkell recovered. Though they remained silent, now they just stood by Duke’s seat and tried to act casual, occasionally glancing back at Duke.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 21, 2019 5:14:17 GMT -5
Lexidun Command Tent, Quijain
"Very well," Kalċidon said, giving a dismissive wave as Blair led Godred away: privately, however, he was a bit surprised at Blair's sudden 180° turn from sadness to seriousness, and now jubilant enthusiasm. Keeping his ears open, he swore that he heard Blair make a suggestion for something, catching the emphasis on what sounded like the 'Western Alliance.'
'That's odd,' he noted, 'From dedication to the Crusade to now wanting to engage in international politics, how very odd, even more so in that it appears to be expanding the Alliance to these people, who look oddly Lexidun in appearance.' Pausing in his thoughts, he gave a glance at Duke and James, 'Well, "mostly" Lexidun in appearance. Oh well: let him practice in the act of maintaining sovereignty, so long as it does not harm the Fatherland or interfere directly in his affairs. Still a bit odd that he's pressing for it almost immediately after meeting these people with little contact between them.'
Pushing his thoughts aside, he noticed Duke moving the chair over to sit across from him, engaging in small talk as James and Thorkell joined him, both of them looking almost intimidated by him, electing to stay silent and glancing at the shorter being they were with. Giving a polite cough, Kalċidon nodded as Duke asked his questions, "Indeed, Sir Duke: I am Chancellor of the Republic and the Commander-in-Chief of his armies, and indeed, we are Rigmaran worshipers, it is good to see other sons of the Warfather gathered here - aside from the Rozhai, I expected that Kyras was the only nation following Rigma that would be contributing to the Crusade here.
"As for you, I had heard stories of the Locomati being converted over from Rigma to Myratnis: in fact, one of your people's priests, Laxenius, he had traveled to the Republic to gather Rigmaran forces for a military campaign - from what I recalled in scripture and word of mouth, he gathered a surprisingly significant force and was to return home, but died in our waters, presumably due to a storm or the rocks feeding into the northeastern parts of the Kreigsfalden Sea.
"As for our practices, indeed, we have engaged in what could be interpreted by outsiders as being rather 'disturbing,' but to us it had seemingly drawn positive results. I assume that the practices in your territory are at least somewhat similar, Sir Duke. Speaking of which, I assume that your people, the Dwarf Locomati, are organized as a duchy and you as their ruler, or does Duke happen to be your name?
"Well, finally," Kalċidon said, producing a cup and his flask of chapalva, filling both the new cup and his before passing the new cup over to Duke, "I believe that a bit of camaraderie should commence, especially since the Warfather has seen fit to provide His sons and daughters with a champion of His descent."
"Żaren," Kalċidon called out as he turned his head to face the young man, "Would you be so kind as to show Sir Duke the abilities the Warfather has granted you?"
"Presently, Sir," Żaren said as he stood up, walking slightly off from being behind Kalċidon so as to avoid setting him on fire: pulling the ax out, Żaren willed the flames, the shroud of fire now naturally coming to him as easily as breathing, the ax glowing bright. Unbeknownst to him, however, the group behind him watching in silent shock and horror as they noticed his horns beginning to grow longer, some even sprouting additional growths off of them, while the muscles on his arms tensed up as bone-like growths began to sprout along his biceps. His nails began to warp into talons, while his canines turned more into fangs behind his closed mouth: finally, darkened markings began to emerge along his skin, focusing around the nape of his neck and his upper arms, a mix of patterns and words, some alien to their eyes, imprinting themselves upon him. Willing the flames down, Żaren shook his shoulders and continued to stand there, looking over at Kalċidon, "Anything else, Sir?"
"I believe that is all," Kalċidon said, electing to not comment on Żaren's continuous physical changes as the young man sat down, Kyre looking at his son with shock and concern, Liena taking a glance over to Kyre as he nodded in her direction, the both of them electing to talk after the meeting. "It is fortunate that the Republic has found new brothers and sisters, kin to which we share a common connection." Raising his cup of chapalva up, Kalċidon uttered, "To good health, Sir Duke of the Dwarf Locomati, and to all others of the Dual Kingdoms of the Isles." Downing it fast, he glanced over at the tent, "I do wonder when Sir Dunsley will arrive with the representatives of Kanso-Oromi: I believe Blair and Godred would see it as ill fortune to not greet our soon-to-arrive guests."
Shores of Northern Kyras
"Admiral Demajo," the lieutenant called out, seeing the commander of the Northern Republican Fleet hunched over several maps of northeastern Calveria, staring particularly at the small island Kyras had taken to calling 'Ukko.'
"Yes, Lieutenant?" Jarad Demajo said, turning to face the younger officer, "What news do you have for me: does it concern with Kalċidon's Crusade Order?"
"No, Sir," the lieutenant replied, instead pulling out a scroll, "It actually concerns the Ukko, and of their island."
"Oh? What news do you have for me?"
"Sir, it appears we may have had things wrong the entire time: a scouting vessel came into contact with another patrolling the coastlines to the southwest of the island - when they hailed them, the scouting vessel stated they were from the Saltenate of Babor. When we pressed them over the issues from previous years, they informed us that the Saltenate had no records of raiding Republican Navy ships heading up north - they told us that they were in the area as they have finally discovered land that would provide a passageway to the west and were presently scouting it for the Saltenate's Navy to continue investigating."
"So you mean to tell me that the conflicts that had prevented the Republic from investigating the old Tekkan lands of the north were not from these people?" Demajo asked, looking over and wondering: the area and the strait between what had been called Ukko and with Calveria had been exceptionally hard to cross, something that the Tekkan had decided to avoid altogether with land expansions instead.
"Correct, Sir: we believe that there happens to be pirates within that region, presumably further to the north, or southwest of Babor's traditional reach - enough to avoid detection by Babor, but also enough to launch attacks upon our formations whenever they try to investigate. I believe that the Ukko are, rather than Babor, these pirates."
"That is a bold statement to make, Lieutenant," Demajo stated, looking over the manifests of ships that had been transporting the members of the Conquest Force out to Quijain, still hardy enough to risk sailing to the north, "Are you certain that you and these scouts believe in this?"
"Very much, Sir," the Lieutenant stated, pulling up a small book with which the scouting vessel's members had been filling up, flipping it open to show a sketch of one of the sailors, who appeared much different from the pirates that previous Naval expeditions had seen, passing the book over to Demajo, "I am certain that Babor is not that of Ukko, and that our enemies might be far different than these people."
Demajo looked over the book carefully, setting it down as he reached for a manifest, filling it out before handing it over to the Lieutenant, "Lieutenant, if you are willing to pursue it further, I have a manifest here that will allow you to captain a scouting vessel and lead a small formation to investigate further: record everything you can, to the most minute detail, and chart out everything that these people, of 'Babor,' have to say."
The Lieutenant grasped the parchment, nodding as he stepped back and saluted, "It will be done, Admiral."
"Then go on swift winds and steady waters."
Kantchenkamaal
"Damn it all," the chieftain snarled, seeing the capital ship resist efforts by the few remaining commandeered ships at boarding, watching a Desert Raider being impaled upon the spikes, "Get those cannons to fire on that large bitch, sink that whore!"
Before he could give another order, one of the complexes near to them collapsed, the shrieking of mortars in the air as he saw one of the towers being restocked, firing into the raider-held districts before turning to fire on the remaining ships that his forces still held, "Fuck! Alright, I need a force to assemble and take that battery over: might as well turn their weapons against them. You fuckers keep firing on anything that comes close to the shoreline," he said, rushing off as the cannon crews nodded, continuing to fire upon the ships with hellfire.
As he moved, meanwhile, Spettur called over Lugas and Atam, the three of them crouching down as another round of cannonfire peppered the vessels engaging the Kemeht forces, "We need to keep moving: Lugas, you see anything west that can provide some form of cover?"
Lugas pulled out the collapsible telescope, peering at the city's 'skyline' of sorts as he scanned the horizon for sturdy cover, "Yeah, I'm looking at a large complex, appears to not be inhabited, about a kilometer north."
Spettur gestured for Atam to step forward, "We'll be breaching that building just in case: keep your grenades and bolts ready for any hostile interaction." Atam nodded before turning to the rest of the men, looking at their Long Bows.
"You think we can engage the raiders in the city with our Bows: might give us a tactical advantage if we use the rooftops and shoot down any raiders coming in."
Spettur motioned for Lugas to hand over his telescope, expanding it as he looked at the roof: flat, with enough space for a quarter of the platoon to use for firing, "Looks like you're right: okay, we'll set up an overwatch on that building, fire at any raiders or Kemeht coming to engage, then move to another location - we stick to that, and we can get to Corrado and engage the enemy."
While the platoon ran to take cover, Corrado saw how the situation was unfolding at the water, "Well that'll be a problem: Captain!"
The youngest of the regiment's captains emerged, looking over at the city, "You called, Colonel?"
"We have a supply of mortar cannons with us, correct?"
"Yes, Sir: about six of them, along with the crews necessary to engage: you want us to try and engage the ships?"
Corrado nodded, "Take positions on the ridges here, stay behind natural cover: I want those crews to hit those capital ships, along with the towers firing into the districts: we'll be needing them off our backs in case they attack us. If the ships try to hit your positions, signal with the flare, I'll have the remainder of the force begin to fire back."
"Colonel? What are you planning?"
"I'll be taking some of our infantry to try and reach Spettur's position: at the very least, we can reach his location and report on how everything is going down via flare. Keep your eyes open."
"Understood, Sir," The captain said, one of the crews adjusting the mortar cannon as they saw the tower closest to them, "Tower spotted, adjusting for drop, and fire!"
The mortar cluster shrieked in the air as it arched, the cluster canister splitting open as the smaller cannonballs struck the tower, the foundation cracking under the force of fire. As the crew reloaded, another crew took aim at the capital ship, "Capital ship spotted, adjusting for distance and drop, and fire!"
The new cluster sailed in a smaller arc, the canister splitting as it hit the deck and several of the oars, some of the Kemeht soldiers getting struck and torn apart from the cannonballs.
Kyran Encampment, Quijain
"Look, it's like I've been saying all this night: the Quijaini warriors we have captured are only slaves for a short period of time - once they receive manumission, they receive citizenship, land, and benefits not afforded to the actual serf."
"That's still locking someone up in chains: how are you not seeing the evils of depriving these people their free will?"
"They attacked us on their own free will, and we don't put them in chains, that's for the slaves managing agriculture - the Quijaini slaves are serving on the Arban, the area of warfare they specialize in. Hell, once this Crusade's over, they are due to receive manumission and have their crimes struck from their public records as citizen."
"Still, that's depriving self-determination: a show of force is better than reducing them to property. For fuck's sake, you people are known as killers, yet you're leaving these men alive as chattel."
"Many of these men happen to be Rigmaran and contact between Quijain and Kyras was frequent during the Iljate's existence: you people act as if all of them behaved like the nomads near your border, but behavior like this is common when the one thing considered as a complex society ended up collapsing from infighting and years of nomadic lifestyle in such tough terrain." Leaning back, the Kyran sergeant was growing steadily annoyed at his Lexidun counterpart, who he had struck up a casual conversation with. The men had bonded easily, their juniors talking freely as the two sergeants discussed various topics.
All in all, things had seemed normal, at least until the Kyran sergeant had casually mentioned about the enslavement of the Quijaini warriors the Conquest Force encountered on their way to the meet-up site: then, the mood changed, and the Lexiduns had become extremely agitated, arguing with them on the individual rights these warriors had. Taking a sip of ground whiskey, the Kyran sergeant stared at the Lexidun sergeant, the man glaring as he quietly muttered, "Right, and you lot seem unaware that the Quijain's fate won't happen to you, you bunch of baby-killing slaver savages."
Snarling, the Kyran sergeant threw his whiskey in the man's face, the Lexidun shouting in surprise as he stood up, temporarily blinded by the act. That temporary blind moment was all the sergeant needed as he drew his ax and embedded it into the Lexidun's chest, the man now screaming in pain, his counterparts watching in horror as they saw the Kyran brutally murder their commanding officer. Drawing his ax out of the man, the sergeant continued to swing, blood flying even as the Lexidun expired, only stopping when a boot-clad foot smashed into his face.
Tumbling off of the corpse, the sergeant glared up, only to be met with the hate-filled visage of Erin iben ta'Ħadd, the man turning to face the Lexiduns as they screamed out in anger and horror, "That cunt just killed Sergeant Edmund!"
"All of you," Erin said, electing to look for the highest-ranked of them, "Where is the commanding officer of your unit."
"Over in our site."
"Take the body of your Sergeant and inform your commanding officer of what has happened: I expect you men to tell him what occurred, without embellishment or false details."
"And you?" One of them asked, incredulous at the Kyran officer in front of them, "What do you plan to do about that piece of shit on the ground?"
"I will take care of it: Chancellor Kalċidon and King Blair will be informed of it, and the Chancellor will handle the matter from there." Grabbing the sergeant by the collar of his aketon, Erin punched him in the face, snarling at him, "Sergeant, are you aware that you have effectively committed one of the worst crimes possible during a foreign meeting? I am more than certain that the Chancellor will see to it that you are dead."
"Oh lovely, the bastard is planning to tell his father on me for shutting that dumb fucker's mouth up," The sergeant replied sarcastically, only for Erin to punch him again.
"You are so fucking dead, you piece of shit," Erin shot back, directing the sergeant's men to detain him as they moved to speak with Kalċidon over the issue.
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Post by Andromitus on Jun 23, 2019 11:28:07 GMT -5
Jihad
• • • • • • • • Aliim’yhrall • • • • • • • •
Red-gold banners waived pridefully up at the fortress towers overlooking a sea of motley-brown tents running along the outskirts of the city. They were arrayed into neat sections, each handling its own banner and symbol. An eruption of cheers breeched over the desert sands as another banner, green and black, crested an eastern dune underneath the morning sun — The Messiah had returned. But immediately there were apprehensions, after all, the banner fluttered alone, and if that was the case where were the Karthagites? Bakahn looked down on the armies below him, finally, he was in his element. He’d fought in the war of the new-age succession, he’d been a general at the Urib Ahkipate’s collapse. He may be still learning the whole business of a Messiah, but he was all-too familiar with military leadership. And already he was seeing a problem, segregated camps; the entire army was split down ethnicity, he could tell not just from the banners, but because it was the very aspect of the Rohzai he himself had exploited when Karthagite armies encircled those of Tibür not 30 years ago. It didn’t help that this time around, not only would the army be divided it would be split down the middle between Tibür and Gōgher supporters. He’d have to break that, they couldn’t afford to be Tibür or Gōgher anymore; they were the Jihadi. His walker was met with swarms of civilians and soldiers alike as he reached the walls of the city, each of them attempted to get a glimpse at the Chosen of the Karthagites, and from his vantage point he grimaced slightly as all around him they chanted, “Bagan al-Mutahadir!” (Bakahn the Civilized). It seemed that old prejudices die hard. His head turned as the crowd suddenly screamed, in the distance, the black banners of the Gōgher had just crested past the horizon. He had halted his walker outside the city’s gates, allowing it to lock its legs for rest. His wasn’t alone, hundreds of the animals stood or sat around the campsites, their rigging tents acting as housing for ranked officers. He signaled to his driver to lower the beast to the ground, where he had them wait the arrival of the other Generals. The first to arrive, of course, was Hadam of the Tibür, followed quickly by his compatriot generals from the Tibür client states; then came Ishad and Ghamesh of Kabin and Iracham respectively, before finally, General Aghrad of Gōgher, as well as his client generals. They took a moment to get situated, each man being presented a small ceramic cup of Aghiri Tea, a red Karthagite tea often imported into the Republics. Finally, they all sat in a circle on mats provided for them, Bakahn at the head. “If you all don’t mind, I’ll be skipping past the pleasantries.” “Understandable.” Ishad said. “I’ve heard from the Temple representatives that supplies should be prepared and ready within two days.” “So we should tell our men ready to depart by that evening, I take it.” Aghrad responded. “No.” “No? What, do you expect us to travel in the height of the day??” “No, tell them to begin packing their individual supplies immediately.” “What?” Aghrad was genuinely surprised “Our total force numbers 75,000 yes?” He was met with nods, “Lay your survey reports out in front of you, I plan to organize the general companies.” “I’m sure we don’t understand what you mean,” Hadam blurted out, “our me are already organized.” “No, they are separated. I will not be lead a traditional alliance army, especially after having met the Karthagite man who designed the primary tactic to break them. We will reorganize the army structure from the bottom-up; 10 men shall make up a battle group, 12 groups make up a company, 60 companies make up a battalion, and 10 battalions will make up the Army, leftover troop-slots will be filled by specialized, anti-magical warriors. Each battle-group will be made up of mixed ethnicity, and Modern-Standard will be spoken at, by, and toward, all ranks.” “You can’t be serious?” Hadam was furious, “I’ll not have my men, my compatriots, split ranks to intermingle with…” he paused as Ghamesh narrowed his eyes, “to intermingle with soldiers unknown to them.” Bakahn sat back for a moment, thinking, “General Hadam, who was it the great northern Ahkip entrusted your services to?” Hadam’s face turned red, “Yourself.” “Hmm, and who was it who was entrusted to lead the Jihad out of the heartland?” “Yourself’s.” His voice was low at this point. “One last question, and now bear with me, who was it entrusted with the light of God.” Hadam froze. “Yourself.” “That is all I have to say as my response.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Brass horns cut through the now night air as the sun burned just above the horizon; the evening sky shone red as the light of the sun mixed with the crackling of the tabes. They formed into 4 huge columns as they departed the city, the mass of men and mire-walkers reached Aliim’nquen within a few days time, and Aqaz’tezahn a short while after that. At each city they met up with their resupply, having been carefully orchestrated by the various Temple priests, before finally the sands began to harden, and the first tufts of grass appeared in the distance. Campfire smoke raised itself in the distance as the mass of white, green, black, and red banners crested the hills ahead of them; the Rohzai Ahkip’s had answered their call. Bakahn led the mass, letting loose a deep war-horn call and having it be answered by his entire front line.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 23, 2019 13:45:35 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
"Of course! I must apologise again for my forwardness; I just simply figured now would be the perfect moment to establish our newfound cooperation with one another!" Blair giddily exclaimed. Internally he scolded himself for jumping the gun, the man had just arrived for Myratnis' sake, calm yourself Blair thought. "I'll send for their representative now, Prime Minister Helena Lake! I can assure you, not only are the Titenfiscans eternal friends of the Lexiduns but also the Prime Minister is my good friend as well!" He stood up and leaned out from the tent section, calling for a guard. "Fetch me Helena will you?" The royal guard nodded; to which Blair withdrew back into the room.
"I was glad to hear of your diplomats safe return, it truly was the poorest of timing on the world's part on the day of their arrival. So! Whilst we wait, I must get to know you and your nation better King Godred, I have my sources and advisers but I tell you what they never informed me of just how... familiar the Dual Kingdom's representatives look! If I were an uneducated man I might have mistaken some of your entourage as Lexiduns; particularly the people of the southern Lexidun cities of Redan and Pontath. Your faces and clothes seemed just so..." he paused, making sure to withdraw his excitement somewhat. Why was he suddenly so chipper whilst mere minutes ago he was shouting in frustration at the Kyrans? He chastised himself for a moment in his mind, making sure to hide his embarrassment with a big signature Blair smile.
...familiar. That's the only word I can use to describe it!"
As the conversation between two kings continued, the Royal Guard set across the encampment in search of Helena, finding her within a couple of minutes thanks to the helpful nature of the Squidspawn mercenaries and Lexidun soldiers who they were playing cards with. The Guard, dressed in the ornamental brass armour denoting the Royal Guard of Lexidus, found the Prime Minister attending her duties in the centre of the Titenfiscan division of the meeting point.
"Prime Minister? Apologies for the interruption madam. King Blair de Brus requests your presence in the Crusade Command Tent, he is in a meeting with King Godred of the Dual Kingdom and wishes for the two of you to meet and discuss the Dual Kingdom's ascension to the Northern Alliance."
Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, No Man's Land - Quijain
He had been nearby when it had happened. He had escorted the Kanso-Oromi to the Command Tent and let them pursue their own way inside as he made his way towards the Kyran's section of the encampment. Dunsley had been there to look out for his fellow soldiers, make sure they were behaving themselves and not causing a scene. Not that it was much of an issue to begin with. For the past couple of days, the Lexidun and Kyran soldiers had gotten along well. So much so that it wasn't uncommon for both sides' officers and other higher-ups to share drink, stories and laughs every night around the various campfires. The atmosphere was good; jovial even.
In a moment that had all changed.
He heard the blood curdling scream and the following shouts of horror and rage. Dunsley sprinted towards the commotion, darting through openings between tents and even jumping over campfires, he saw a crowd split in two; Kyrans on one side and Lexiduns on the other side. He saw their patches on their shoulders. The patch of the Trident Regiment. His regiment.
He slowed his pace, his chain mail jingling under his blue and black raiment. Before long he saw everything before him. The dead body with a caved in head, a bloodied Kyran soldier with a familiar face holding the bloodied man by the scruff of the neck, the men of his unit seething with rage; their hands firmly on their weapons' hilts, to which their Kyran counterparts responded by doing the same. Dunsley had only just heard the tail end of the conversation as he stomped his way towards the situation.
"Oh lovely, the bastard is planning to tell his father on me for shutting that dumb fucker's mouth u-" the bloodied Kyran received a powerful blow to the face from Erin iben ta'Ħadd. Dunsley had finally entered the fray as the Kyran commander hissed at the murderer. "You are so fucking dead, you piece of shit."
His men turned to him and immediately, Private Colton of Redan yelled at him, wide eyed and shaking with fury. "DUNSLEY, THEY FUCKING KILLED EDMUND!"
Oh fuck, Dunsley thought in horror as he tried to piece together in his head in remains of the Sergeant lying dead in front of him, unable to recognise the bloodied and gory mess that remained. Edmund was the co-commander of his unit... with Dunsley acting as the other half. The dead man was their favourite half, they respected Dunsley but Edmund was a riot, a virtuous man. Someone who the quieter Dunsley could never beat in charisma. Now he was a dead man. However, not just any dead man but rather, a dead Noble. A really important one at that, Edmund was the grandson of Brice de Sawney, one of the most powerful nobles in all of Lexidus and all around tempest of a woman. Dunsley gulped heavily and scanned the men in front of him, trying to keep his cool. Colton turned around towards the Kyrans bellowing at them, his round peasant face red with rage.
"HERE'S OUR FUCKING COMMANDING OFFICER YOU MURDERING CUNTS!"
Dunsley placed his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder, he wasn't much younger than Dunsley himself, about a year or so.
"Calm yourself Colton. Breath. Tell me what happened, now." He paused whilst he stared hard at the private, a trick taught by General Lewis to assert gentle dominance over a panicking subordinate, it worked. The younger man breathed deep and darted his eyes between the dead body and murdered before pleadingly returning Dunsley's stare.
"Edmund he... he was just talking with that Kyran fucker... they were just having a conversation! Then next thing you know Edmund says something to the bastard and he just snaps! Buried his hatchet into Edmund's chest and stomped his head in! No remorse; no just cause! The eastern fuck just murdered him!"
Dunsley lowered his hand from Colton's shoulder and stepped past him, exiting from the group of Lexiduns who were watching him with their eyes bulging in anger. Dunsley approached Erin who's men had began to detain the Kyran sergeant, tying the man's hands behind his back and hoisting him between the two soldiers. He stared at the murderer, who was a bloody mess himself, before returning his gaze to Erin.
"Commander Erin iben ta'Ħadd. Sergeant Dunsley Hovis of Loness, Trident Regiment, Commander Officer of Iron Company and General Lewis' Ward." He let his words hang in the air a little while as surveyed the Kyrans all around him, they were tense, their hands also hovering near their weapons. Dunsley knew he had to diffuse the situation but also contain the shit storm about to happen.
"I see Sergeant Edmund de Sawney lies dead. No less at the hands of one of your own men."
"EASTERN FUCKING SAVAGES, THE WHOLE LOT OF YE!" bellowed a stout Lexidun soldier, with other fellow soldiers jeering in response. Dunsley turned and stared him in the eyes, pointing and keeping still like a statue, another trick taught to him by Lewis to keep the peace. That worked too, his men quietened down and the stout man brought his gaze to the ground, his fists balled and knuckles white.
Dunsley turned back to Erin, making sure to keep a stern expression adorned upon his face, he had to keep the balance. "...as you can see this is an issue, an obvious statement I am sure." He stepped forward more towards the Kyran commander and lowered his voice. "Trust me when I say this, this is a GRAVE situation, the victim was someone of powerful standing, believe me when I say this..." he let the mask slip but made sure Erin was the only one who could see, angling his body and beckoning the commander to do the same. With genuine sincerity he exacerbated "...there is going to be a massive fallout from this if we take this to the top, THAT I can assure you Erin, prepare yourself."
Stepping back and regaining his composure, he spoke but this time loud and clear. "We shall escort the murderer to a cell and together we shall inform our respective leaders, but know this Commander... he will be executed by a Lexidun hand."
His unit withdrew their hands from their various hilts, cheering and jeering, yelling obscenities at the Kyran sergeant.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 24, 2019 4:42:09 GMT -5
Kyran Encampment, Quijain
"Shit, I figured as such, Sergeant Hovis," Erin said as Dunsley explained just who Edmund de Sawney was, realizing that the dead man less than 20 feet away was the son of a noble, "Forgive me for sounding rude, but I had a suspicion that the deceased officer near us happened to be from noble standing. Let me be the first to give my sincere condolences in the tragic death of Sergeant de Sawney, and that the Republic will try to provide just compensation to his family: while it will not replace the fact that he is dead, it is just that we, as guests, give something to indicate that we were in the wrong."
Turning to face the sergeant, he suddenly saw the Kyran soldiers were beating him, an Økesadr in particular roaring out, "Mewt għal dan l-Arvesh: id-demm tiegħu mhux ser inaddaf id-dnub tiegħu!" (Death to this Arvesh: his blood will not cleanse his sin!). Rushing over, he struck the Økesadr in the face before pulling the man away from the crowd of soldiers, yelling, "Belay this assault, Corporal!" Scanning the camp, he saw two Phylakitai making the rounds, the duo perking up and rushing over to Erin, who pushed the man towards them, "This man has committed the crime of murder against a Sergeant of the Standing Army of Lexidus: keep hold of him and prevent our men from killing him before his trial can begin."
Spinning around, he walked over to Private Colton and grabbed him by the lapels of his aketon, his eyes blazing with fury as he spoke in a calm voice, "As for you, Private Colton, my men and I are not murderous savages, that fucker in bonds being held by two military police officers is: whatever his rank and status in the Kyran Army is, he is no longer Kyran, but Arvesh; or savage, in your tongue. Now, I am trying to maintain a form of calmness in my men, however tenuous it may be, and you and the rest of your unit's antagonism," he punctuated by pulling the Private's face close to his, "Will not allow my efforts to maintain the peace."
Gently letting him go, Erin spun to face the large Lexidun soldier and the rest of the men, his face kept stony even as his eyes and voice remained filled with wrath, "The same goes for the rest of you! I will make it clear to all of you: we Kyrans do not associate with Arvesh such as this sergeant over here," he said, pointing to the Kyran sergeant still being held by the Phylakitai, their swords drawn and their stances firm against the larger Kyran force, their weapons drawn for the sergeant's blood, "All of us do not desire the end of our camaraderie, or at the very least, our professional relationship as allies. To us, we see this area as a home, and you Lexiduns as the owners: we are guests under your patronage, and do not wish to start a dispute. This man broke from that and killed one of your brothers, a wonderful soldier, gone! This sergeant here is not our brother anymore, and he will not be on this earth for long as well.
"Now, I must ask of my men what exactly caused this incident, so we can base how to react from here on out." Briefly turning away, he faced the sergeant's squad, his eyes expectant as he asked, "Which of you overheard the conversation which led to Sergeant de Sawney's death?"
"Sir, I did," A young private said, the gevaerhalde keeping his hammer at his back as he approached, facing the Lexiduns, "Private Gamri Deguara, 6th Guards Regiment. My commanding officer, Sergeant Lawrenz Callus," Deguara gestured to the sergeant, who simply stared at him, refusing to look away, "Was in the middle of an argument with Sergeant de Sawney, which had spawned after Sergeant Callus mentioned about the Kyran Army's enslavement of Quijaini tribesmen and their conscription into the Arban, or cavalry in this tongue. The rest of the squad and I were initially supporting Sergeant Callus in his argument against Sergeant de Sawney and his men, but we removed ourselves from the conversation once we saw that they were still going. Before Sergeant Callus attacked Sergeant de Sawney, I heard the latter make the statement, and I quote, 'Right, and you lot seem unaware that the Quijain's fate won't happen to you, you bunch of baby-killing slaver savages.' after Sergeant Callus mentioned the conditions to which the Grand Iljate collapsed - I believe Sergeant de Sawney made the comparison to how the Quijaini and our race live in our countries, which enraged Sergeant Callus and led to him killing Sergeant de Sawney."
"And what you say is true?" Erin said, turning to face the Lexidun soldiers, his glare making a few of them wilt, especially the ones he saw were closest to de Sawney when Callus attacked him.
Deguara nodded, "Indeed: I would not fabricate this - Sergeant Callus has had a history of belligerent behavior, which we could not report on account of him threatening us all with death, plus I know a false statement will see me receive fifty lashes from the Phylakitai."
Erin gave a small nod, "Thank you, Private Deguara: I will require you to make your statement again once the court martial assembles to hear Sergeant Callus's case. In the meantime, I need you to tell me who your's and Sergeant Callus's commanding officer happen to be."
"Sir, that would be Lieutenant Nestu Spiteri."
"I need you to bring Lieutenant Spiteri here so I can ask him a few questions: after that, you are dismissed for the night." Deguara nodded and began to walk away to find Spiteri. Erin spun to face the Lexiduns, his face still stony as he spoke again, "So, you see us as savages, no? Men who devour children, enslave helpless civilians, and commit every atrocity under the sun, is that it?" None of them spoke, Erin walking closer to them, "I said, is that it?" A few of the Lexiduns finally nodded, their reluctance showing as Erin stepped back, "Savages, that's what we are to you. You think us like the Arvesh, the Raiders, men who harass innocents in the Western half of Kyras, men who my men and I have seen, their atrocities in full view.
"I have seen newborns impaled on skewers in the remains of their camps, women raped and beaten so badly, their legs appeared like clubs from all the attempts at healing, and blood pouring from every orifice; child slaves with wounds from lashes so deep that their skeletons could be seen, all the while lugging sacks over twice their body weight in supplies for their overlords. All of these, I have seen, and were from the Arvesh, men we ourselves consider savages.
"And yet, you compare us to them, as if they are our kin, blood brothers. Let me ask you: would savages bother to assault a man who committed a baseless crime, to avenge not only the man who died in front of them, but also for the breach in hospitality on our end? Would savages march for hundreds of miles, only enslaving men who can and will fight for new masters in a role comfortable to them, treating them as equals? Would savages leave their homes, their families, livelihoods to arrive and speak with men they have never seen before, all to eliminate a monster who has attacked us all? Would savages do all of that?"
No one spoke, the Lexiduns either looking away or continuing to glare at him and his men, "I will make it clear to you: none of us ever planned to attack any of you, and yet, you followers of the Most Loving, the Mother, turn on all of us for the sins of one man, who is no longer ours but is still officially an associate. I want to establish here that we of the Kyran race will not succumb to this hatred, this blind rage that so haunts us as what we appear to be. We will remain calm and face our crisis, and I advise all of you to continue cooperating with these men of the Kyran Army: petty hatred like this will not matter when a Yrutan sword is impaled through your open maw and the man who could be considered your brother-in-arm cannot help you because you turned him away.
"I am not asking you to simply drop any care for Sergeant de Sawney's death, nor dispose of any hatred you have for Sergeant Callus, for it is natural to feel this way. I ask of all of you, however, to not ostracize us and associate the entirety of the Fatherland's sons and daughters with this animal here," Erin punctuated, having walked over to Callus to punch him in the stomach, causing the man to keel over, the Phylakitai continuing to hold him as Erin walked back to where he was, "I have to make it clear: we will continue to act professionally - continue to act in this manner, however, referring to us as savages and murderers; and I will see to it that you are no longer soldiers in any army. It will not be by death, nor by beatings, but by simple diplomatic measures."
Turning to face Dunsley, Erin noticed the Kyran soldiers still had their weapons out, ready to kill Callus, the Phylakitai looking to him, their eyes telling him all that needed to be said, "Sergeant Hovis, I apologize for any inappropriate behavior I displayed just now, this situation is already trying, but I must ask of you several things: first, I require that six Phylakitai join whoever manages your penal service for the duration of Sergeant Callus's detention - I am aware that the Lexiduns will call for his blood, but they, in sincere honesty, pale in comparison to the men behind me. They will inform their brethren, and within a day, will try to organize efforts to lynch Sergeant Callus: the Phylakitai will prevent such efforts, so I advise that they maintain watch of him.
"Second, I am aware that this can turn into a political situation, but we need to inform the leaders of all the nations here in assembly: if this becomes any worse than it can be, I am certain the Crusade will shatter and all of us will devolve into infighting. We must establish that Sergeant Callus is to be executed for the sake of maintaining unity and cohesion between our forces, that we cannot afford to blindly attack one another.
"Third, and I cannot stress this enough, Kyras will not agree to letting Lexidus execute Sergeant Callus: according to our Laws of Conduct, we have provisions that, in the event a Kyran soldier commits any form of assault against a soldier in a foreign army, and this was drafted after our centuries of war with Asil, mind you; that the Republic try the aforementioned soldier in a court martial and hand down the punishment. I know that the Empire executing this man will placate the men in the Standing Army, but it is our responsibility based on the conduct we maintain as hospitality to handle the matter that is on our end: he killed a man, and we must kill him in turn for that. If none of that can sway you, I will tell you: Father," Erin said with a pause, still trying to associate the word with Kalċidon, "Or Chancellor Kalċidon, will want to be the one to execute Sergeant Callus -since his coup and ascension to power, he has been micromanaging the Kyran Forces to root out incompetence and corruption, with him handing down a majority of the punishments such as lashes or execution, and he will see it as his duty as both Commander-in-Chief of the Forces as well as General-in-Chief of the Army to personally deliver it. If you, King the Bruce, nor General Lewis agree to this, then I advise that Sergeant Major Kyre iben ta'Redentur be the one to handle the execution: I think the Lexiduns will at least be pleased a Kyran of Lexidun descent will execute Sergeant Callus."
Gesturing for Dunsley to head back to the tent, Erin said, "Have one of your soldiers escort the Phylakitai and Sergeant Callus to your holding area: if you agree that the Phylakitai will stay to watch over Sergeant Callus, they will stand guard at his cell. If not, they will return to their patrols around the camp: I will be having the Phylakitai increase patrols and ensure that the Kyran soldiers not get into any conflict with the Lexiduns or any of the other countries, they will also have to deputize the Kyran followers of Myratnis similar to Kyre as temporary Phylakes, at least to help with public relations with Lexidus. Now, we must inform our leaders of the situation and the course of action we will have to take."
Arriving back at the tent, Erin saw Kalċidon communicating with a foreign-looking man, who happened to be missing his right hand, "It is a pleasure to meet with you, King Omo: I am sorry for the loss of your hand - take heart in that we had faced similar trials attempting to arrive here based on a land route." Looking around, Erin saw several men in front of Kalċidon, one oddly with a different skin tone than a normal human and much shorter than the others, while Żaren appeared to be even more bestial than before, with larger horns, small bony spikes on his arms, claws on his fingers, and strange soot-like markings on his bare skin.
Breathing in, Erin knew that he looked shaken and pale, Dunsley standing next to him as Erin finally gave a loud, but polite cough, drawing the attention of everyone inside. Kalċidon turned to face him, looking at him curiously, "Erin, I am surprised to see you return. Are you okay, you look pale?"
Erin breathed in again, knowing just what was about to happen, "Sir, a grave situation has occurred, one that requires all national leaders present to discuss about, along with General Lewis and several of both the Standing Army and Kyran Army's soldiers."
"And what would that be, Commander?" Kalċidon said, immediately switching to a neutral expression and tone, recognizing that something was wrong, almost like a glass grenade that had been primed and now on the ground, a second from going off.
One could easily hear a pin drop as Erin replied, "General, Sergeant Lawrenz Callus of the 6th Guards Regiment is currently en route for detention within a Lexidun mobile jail for the crime of murder against Sergeant Edmund de Sawney of the Trident Regiment, Commanding Officer of the Iron Company, from what I gather - it appears that Sergeant Callus and Sergeant de Sawney were involved in an argument, which resulted in Sergeant Callus ambushing and murdering Sergeant de Sawney in a blind rage. I have already called for a squad of Phylakitai to stand guard over Sergeant Callus's cell, and for them to increase patrols along with deputizing Kyran followers of Myratnis as Phylakes for the duration of this incident, awaiting both your's and the Lexiduns' approval. The Lexiduns are requesting that they try and execute Sergeant Callus for this crime, and the men of the Empire Army Group are calling for blood: we need to talk about this at once."
Kalċidon stared at him for the longest time, now appearing completely dumbstruck as he remained standing, now looking down at the ground, not out of shame but trying to process everything. Finally, he snapped back up, resolve in his eyes as he turned to face King Omo, along with Duke and his men, "Apologies, but I must cut the discussion short and bring both Blair & Godred into this matter." Tracing where Blair and Godred were, Kalċidon breathed in before opening the flap, standing fully at attention, gripping his kriegsmesser's hilt and holding both a stony face & gaze as he spoke, "King Blair, King Godred, I apologize for the interruption in your affairs, but there is an issue that must be addressed: a Kyran soldier has killed a Lexidun soldier not less than an hour ago - Commander ta'Ħadd and Sergeant Hovis have taken matters to keep the peace, and the guilty party is en route to imprisonment, but I have been informed that Lexidus will intend to try and execute this man, to which I must respectfully ask that, not as Kyras's Chancellor, but as General-in-Chief of His Army, to oversee the court martial and execution of the guilty party."
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Post by Percyton on Jun 27, 2019 1:37:53 GMT -5
Grand Ducal Castle, Ballahoo, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Grand Duke Thomas
It was midday in the capital of the Locomati. Grand Duke Thomas often went for a walk around the grounds of the Grand Ducal Castle around noon; it helped clear his mind, and Thomas needed some peace and quiet after his confrontation with Montague. Some of the nobility followed Montague’s lead and left the court to return to their own estates, while the ones who remained became increasingly isolated from the Grand Duke. Still, Thomas thought they’ll come around eventually. Someday they’ll see Nia isn’t the villain they make her out to be..
Thomas was just returning from his walk, ready to go back to work. He was walking down the main hallway, he heard a familiar voice from one of the side rooms. He stepped closer, and recognized the voice as that of his lover and political adviser. Nia!
“Oh, that fool Thomas,” Nia’s voice said, her tone condescending and dismissive. “So easy to manipulate him. I always heard he was a sucker for attractive women.” Thomas grunted at this insult, but not too loudly: He didn’t want to reveal himself too soon.
“Now then,” Nia’s voice went on. “What to do next? I’ve isolated Thomas from everyone else who matters, so what shall I do with the power?” The voice went silent for a moment, presumably in thought. “I’ll have to write to the headquarters, see if the boss has new instructions for me.”
Thomas heard enough. He tried to open the door, but found it was locked. He repeatedly banged against the door and shouted. “Nia! Nia, what’s going on in there? What are you doing?”
“Ah, my dear Thomas,” Nia said sweetly from the other side. “I’m afraid you caught me at a bad time. We should catch up later. Must go now!” Thomas could hear the sound of a window opening, and then footsteps running away.
Thomas grunted. “I swear, when I find you Nia, you’ll have some serious explaining to do!” Thomas rushed off to find the Grand Ducal Guards. After a few minutes, Thomas returned with the soldiers, one of them carrying locksmith gear. They managed to open the door after a few minutes, but there was nothing there besides an open window. Nia was long gone.
Thomas screamed. “Summon Nia to my bedroom immediately!” Thomas barked to the guards. “She will answer for her treachery!”
Later that day…
Thomas was in his bedroom, still seething as he sat on his bed facing away from the door. He was going over in his mind all the ways he could confront Nia, what he’d say if she denied it, what he’d say if she confirmed it. But none of his words seemed adequate. None of them seemed to express the betrayal Grand Duke Thomas felt. His adviser-turned-lover in league with a mysterious entity and plotting to undermine the Grand Duke? The thought gave Thomas shivers.
The door opened, and Nia walked in escorted by two guards. “What’s going on?” Nia asked innocently as she approached Thomas. “The guards said it was important. Were you thinking of… trying something new tonight?”
“Not exactly,” Thomas said sternly. He rose from the bed and turned to face Nia. “I overheard you earlier.”
There was a look of puzzlement on Nia’s face. “Overheard me? Where? I was out all day at the Justice Ministry.”
“Don’t play dumb!” Thomas yelled as he pointed his index finger at Nia’s chest. “I overheard you in the side chamber earlier, talking about how you were trying to isolate me, bring me down, and how you needed orders from the boss.” Thomas got in Nia’s face. “Who is your boss? Who are you working for?”
Nia’s mouth was agape, as she struggled to form words. “My… my only boss is you, dear. Are you feeling alright? You seem agitated.”
“Agitated?” Thomas repeated as he backed off. “OF COURSE I’M AGITATED! You betrayed your nation, you betrayed the Locomati Diplomatic Corps, and you betrayed me! Filthy scum. I never should have trusted you.”
Thomas could see the look of horror and shock in Nia’s face. “I never betrayed anyone!” Nia protested. “I have been nothing but loyal to you! You stood by me when all the nobles and officials were against me, and in return, I gave you the best advice I could offer!”
Thomas clenched his face and walked away from Nia, turning his back to her. “And now I see those nobles and officials were right all along! You played me like a fool, just like they said you would. If you refuse to confess, then I intend to throw you in the dungeons until you do!”
“On what grounds?” Nia retorted, taking a step toward Thomas. “I’m not going to confess to something I didn’t do, so unless you have more solid evidence then overhearing a voice that sounded like me, the courts won’t stand for it.”
Thomas sighed. Nia was right. The Grand Duke wasn’t above the law, and while he could imprison her, it wouldn’t take long for the courts to demand a convincing reason for her detainment, and for a trial to be scheduled. Even if Thomas ignored them, it would cause tension and controversy when Thomas could ill-afford it. This needed to be handled quietly.
“Pending a full investigation,” Thomas said, glancing back at Nia, “you are hereby dismissed as my political adviser. You shall return to the Foreign Ministry for further assignment, and if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be assigned as far away from here as possible.”
“Honey, please,” Nia pleaded. “You have to believe me.”
“Go,” Thomas murmured.
“But—“
“GO!” Thomas yelled as he turned to face Nia. Tears welled up in the Locomati woman’s eyes. She closed her eyes, slowly nodded, and then left the room.
“Guards,” Thomas commanded, throwing a hand in the air, “go and get me a freaking drink!”
“What kind, Your Highness?” one of the guards asked.
Thomas sighed. “Does it even matter at this point?” Thomas said quietly. The guard said nothing more. He just left to fetch a drink.
A few seconds later, there was a knock at the open door. “Knock knock,” said a familiar cheery voice. Thomas glanced back, and saw the court jester Charlie standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked.
“I heard all the commotion,” Charlie replied as he stepped into the room, “so I had to look and see what was going on. I saw Nia was quite upset.”
Thomas nodded. “I had to dismiss her,” the Grand Duke said, trying to hold back a tear. “It wasn’t easy, but I needed to do it for the security of the realm.”
“I agree,” Charlie assured as he put his hand on Thomas’ back. “You can never trust these foreign women, am I right? So many mixed allegiance going on. I learned that the hard way.”
Thomas turned to face Charlie. “What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say it ended with my head in a cooking pot and my girl taking half my money to Lexidus. Why do you think I became a jester? It wasn’t my first choice, let me tell you, but the debts gotta be paid.”
Thomas chuckled. “Too right, Charlie. Too right. Thanks for cheering me up.”
“No problem, Your Majesty,” Charlie said with a smile. He turned to leave. “I’m always here if you need me.”
No Man’s Land, former Quijain King Godred
King Godred smiled at the Lexidun monarch’s curiosity. “I also felt a familiarity regarding you and your troops,” the Dual Kingdom ruler replied. “Your manner of dress, how your camp was set up, even the language I heard from your troops as I entered the camp seemed vaguely familiar.” Godred put down his cup of wine. “Unfortunately our exact origins have been lost to the ages. All we know now is that about 950 years ago, some merchants from a land north of the islands sent out an expedition to colonize the southern isles. The colonists lost contact with the mother country not long after arrival, but they still went about their mission, establishing a few cities. A few more waves of colonists arrived and established more cities, leading to the network of city-states that would eventually unite to form the Kingdom of the Isles, with myself as the first King. We then joined with our Locomati neighbors to form the Dual Kingdom of the Isles, and the rest is history.”
Godred picked up his cup. “I must say, your country’s wine is unlike any—“ Godred was interrupted by a stone-faced Kalċidon marching into the room, informing them that a Kyran soldier had just killed one of his Lexidun counterparts. Godred slammed his cup down on the table and clenched his fists. His face filled with frustration. “This is an outrage!” Godred cried. “Unbelievable! The nerve of the man who committed this barbarous act!” Godred calmed down and hastily looked back at Kalċidon. “Not that I’m implying you or your men are barbarians, of course, but it is clear the soldier who committed this act was out of line, and this murder threatens the unity of this whole crusade! Just as it was getting started, too.” Godred sighed and looked at Blair. “It was your soldier who was killed, Blair, so it should be your call alone. What do you intend to do?”
Meanwhile… Duke
“Cheers,” Duke replied as he raised his cup and downed his drink as well. Thorkell and James looked at each nervously then took a seat, pouring each of them a drink and slowly drinking it.
“Myself and my Dwarf Locomati are indeed followers of the Warfather,” Duke went on. “We lost contact with the regular Locomati centuries ago, so we only recently discovered that our full-sized cousins have converted to Myratnis after their union with the humans in the Dual Kingdom. However, as long as I have anything to do with it, my people will remain loyal to Rigma and his fiery ways.” Duke energetically raised his now-empty cup. “Praise be his name!”
“Speaking of which,” Thorkell chimed in, shuttering after having just swallowed a sip of chapalva, “we are familiar with the Laxenius you mentioned. He was the last High Priest of Rigma in the Locomati Isles. When the populace started to convert to Myratnis, Laxenius started a Rigmaran revolt on Southern Locomati Island. When his rebellion started to weaken, he went abroad for foreign support and disappeared. Laxenius’ rebellion was crushed not long after, but it’s nice to know after all these years what happened to him.”
“Indeed,” James added, a tone of relief in his voice. “Nice to know we don’t have to worry about that guy coming back and causing more problems for us.”
Duke shook his head. “Impudent fool,” Duke muttered with disdain, as he put his cup on the table. “That’s no way to speak of a respected official of the Warfather!”
James rolled his eyes. “I said what I think, and I’m sticking with it.”
Duke ignored James and went on conversing with the Kyran commander. “Regarding our practices, ours aren’t quite as extreme, but admittedly we do see some resemblance between your people’s current practices and practices that we ourselves once performed. Some of Rigma’s more bloody and aggressive rituals we have abandoned due to the lack of enemies to fight besides animals and an occasional civil disturbance. Even when we do practice war, it is based on rituals and performing homage to the Warfather, with the actual fighting being secondary.
“As for my people’s governance, you would be far from the only one who confused me for a titular duke.” Duke glanced back at James with an annoyed look, then turned back to Kalċidon. “Duke is just what people call me, and in fact I’ve used that name from a young age due to being a respected leader among my fellow youths. In reality, our community is relatively small, so our government is quite simple. I’m the leader of my people – you would call me a ‘chief’, but in the Dwarf Locomati language we call it something else – and while I have a council of advisers, the final decision is always mine. Like my predecessors, I was elected on a combination of my overall skill and the recommendation of the previous ‘chief’, who in my case was my father. I have yet to endorse a successor, but I expect he will be elected on a similar basis when the time comes for me to leave this world.” Duke paused for a breath.
“And this Żaren fellow has some very impressive powers.” As Kalċidon said nothing about Żaren’s transformation, Duke did likewise, although he look glance back and see Thorkell was still somewhat nervous after witnessing what happened to Żaren. Or maybe it was just the chapalva. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen such strong magic, nor have I seen it used like that. I should tell my magic expert Rheneas.” Duke chuckled. “I doubt Rheneas could even come close to what Żaren did, but that won’t stop him from trying. If he is nothing else, Rheneas is a determined fellow.”
The group was interrupted by a nervous man entering their tent. As this soldier recounted the killing of a Lexidun soldier by a Kyran one, Duke’s, Thorkell’s, and James’ mouth opened in horror. When the man finished, the three closed their mouths, and Thorkell and James exchanged a worried look. Duke shook his head. As Kalċidon excused himself, Duke turned toward his companions.
“Reckless youth,” Duke remarked with contempt. “Because of this hotheaded ‘soldier’ – if he’s even worthy of such a designation – a man is dead from among the crusade’s own ranks. If it were up to me, the soldier responsible would be flogged and dismembered, and the family of the slain Lexidun soldier being compensated through the sale of the murderer’s possessions.” Duke grunted angrily. “Look at us. I thought we were supposed to be killing Yrutas, not each other!”
“It is shameful,” Thorkell agreed. “I only hope swift justice is done.”
“I hope Blair isn’t too mad,” James said. “If Lexidus and Kyras split over this, what will we do then?”
“You’re right,” Thorkell replied gravely as he turned to James. “We can’t afford to split the crusade when our enemy is a literal god.” Thorkell sighed. “Here’s hoping Kalċidon and Blair can reach an understanding.”
“And soon!” Duke said emphatically.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 27, 2019 12:57:35 GMT -5
Sergeant Dunsley Hovis, No Man's Land - Quijain
Dunsley bit his tongue as Erin lectured Colton and the stout pikeman, for fuck sake he thought, don't agitate them more! Just then he saw a Lexidun soldier begin to slyly draw a knife from his back scabbard; just behind the stout soldier. His eyes met with Dunsley and they held each others gaze, Dunsley gave him his meanest stare he could muster, bringing his own hand to his sword and slightly shaking his head left to right to drive the point across to the idiot. The sly soldier quickly sheathed his weapon as Erin finished his lecture. He faced him and gave a sharp sigh as his men began to disperse.
"You can tell your Phylakitai to continue their patrols, this ...Arvesh murdered a Lexidun noble and will therefore be under the eye of the Royal Guard." He paused, letting his guard down as he saw how agitated and worried Erin looked as well, they were both in the same boat. "Ah fuck... listen Erin, this isn't just some random foreign civilian the guy chibbed, its a noble. Not some stinky elf either! A Lexidun needs to be the one to kill this guy or else I can assure you, morale and camaraderie between our forces will dip even before the crusade has started." He rubbed his hand against his forehead. "Listen... I'll be doing some damage control. Its my unit and now as their sole commander I have to reign them in proper and let me tell you, that speech you just gave them? Will honestly mean fuck all unless justice is served and by a Lexidun hand. I'll do my best to stop misinformation and provocation but at the end of the day..." He began to walk with Erin as they made their way to command.
"It's not up to me what happens next."
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
It was a small chuckle at first, a slight baring of the teeth and furrowing of the brow, not quite registering what had just been stated. Then came a prominent laugh as soon as he had realised what had just happened and the shaking of his head. Reaching a crescendo as he placed his hand on his face and stifled himself, circling around back to the table where the wine bottle stood. He picked up the bottle, stopped laughing and stared at it.
"So... after our discussion earlier about trust and proving to one another that we can stand side by side together... mere hours later, one of your men kills one of mine. The first casualty of this crusade being a Lexidun; by the hand of a Kyran. His very own ally?" his voice was monotone and he felt it again, the darkness in his heart begin to swell. He could hear her excited breaths behind him.
"A noble at that, not just any Lexidun, my relative. One of the good ones... and now he's dead. Dead by a KYRAN'S hand." His voice was bubbling with rage at this point as she whispered in his ear, he couldn't hear the words, just a chasm of darkness flowing its basin into the river of his mind.
"...and now, as his blood barely begins to cool on this shared ground of ours, you come here and interrupt me and demand that you end this miserable wretch's life? You won't even let us take revenge for this murderer and what he has done?"
With a swift toss, he threw the wine to the ground, the green bottle shattering at the earth by Kalċidon's feet; the wine splashing all around.
"TO DECIDIUS WITH YOU, I'LL KILL THE FUCKING BASTARD MYSELF!!" Drawing his axe, Blair stormed past Kalċidon and the rest of the entourage present in the tent, making his way towards the Holding Camp. His Royal Guard following him.
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Post by Au Minbo on Jun 27, 2019 17:23:26 GMT -5
King Omo XIII Hato, No Man’s Land, Quijain
Though the trip did not cross a great distance, it seemed as if it took ages as the men of Kanso-Oromi were led past the camps of the other men. Led by the man known as Sergeant, they were eye by these foreigners with unlimited curiosity. Omo was used to having eye on him when holding court, but there was something unsettling here, about these men and their eyes.
“Some of those gathered here will become our friends. Others, less so.” He thought to himself. “Now it is just a matter to find out who is who.”
Finally, they had come to the great tent. Inside the King could hear voices hot in debate. The other nations Kings. All unknown to Omo, save the reputation of King Blair. Issuing a short prayer, he did not even notice as Sergeant left them. Standing up, Omo felt an itch in his arm. Glancing down he noticed how shabby he looked. Only the sigil of his Kingdom upon his chest differentiated him from his men. His beard had grown out on the voyage and his stump largely healted, the sun also took quite a toll on his already tanned skin. Sighing, he began to push the flap inwards and stride into the tent. Into history.
Before he could even take a step inside however, a large man brandishing an axe pushed out at breakneck speed, knocking Omo to the ground and destroying what little dignity the King had left after the long voyage. As he began to stand up he could not help but notice the armed guard following behind the axe-wielding man nor that his own entourage had their own hands on their blades. Ready to defend their King from this aggravated stranger.
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Post by axeldonia on Jun 29, 2019 19:31:31 GMT -5
No Man's Land, Quijain
"Listen, strange lads screaming at exotic animals is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate of the masses, not some farcical aucostic ceremony."
"That's not-"
"Well you can't expect supreme executive power just because some pale feline hollered at you!"
"You're mis-"
"I mean, if I went around saying I was noble because I'd screamed at some sunbleached cat they'd put me away!"
Helena was watching the argument unfolding between a Titenfiscan artillery crewman and a Lexidun knight with a fascinated look in her eyes. The discussion had initially revolved around a new contraption some of the Gano and Frougen had constructed together with some Titenfiscan strategists. It was a simple horse-drawn wagon, modified with wide and thick sides as well as firing slits designed to fit either several crossbows or a cannon. The design had caused a heated debate among the officers, particularly the mercenaries. Some called it a laughable ramshackle, but others called it a promising invention. Helena wasn’t sure of what to think, but they had at least come as far as making some to put them to the test. Then again, even if it was as successful as promised, the next question was if there were even enough carts or even cannons to produce any meaningful amount of the contraptions.
Her musings were put to an abrupt end as she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to meet the gaze of the Lexidun soldier.
“His majesty requests your presence at the command tent.”
Oh right, Blair! Helena felt a little silly for not meeting him much after their arrival, but in her defence there was a lot to handle. Helena arrived a few minutes later, accompanied by Gale and the Lexidun soldier just in time to see Blair rush out of the command tent brandishing a weapon and knocking someone looking fairly important out of the way. Torn for a moment, Helena decided to approach the poor man Blair had overturned in his rage. Frankly, she was just as worried about the fellow that was about to find himself on the other end of Blair’s axe as she was about the king himself. Stepping forward to help King Omo up and brushing off his clothes as best she could, she extended a handshake as well as an apologetic smile, desperately hoping the man spoke common.
“Greetings! My name is Helena Lake and like you I represent a people here to partake in the crusade.”
She glanced over her shoulder, Blair now far out of view.
“I am afraid our gracious host is… Occupied at the moment, but as steadfast allies of the Lexidun people I would gladly discuss whatever matters you are here for now.”
She glanced backwards more.
“To be quite frank, I think any reasonable discussion with him is off the table for now. If it pleases you however, you are more than welcome to use our part of the camp to get yourself and your men in order. I must say I have never seen anyone that looks quite like you, so I assume you must have travelled far. Oh, how rude of me! What’s your name, if you would?”
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