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Post by Lex Caledonia on May 6, 2019 12:21:40 GMT -5
Behold! For organisation sake, this is the Standalone Medieval Thread, a place for all miscellaneous writings/various tales/side stories based in the world of Medieval Era Calveria. A great place for all your lore. Stories not immediately related to your country's main story line in the Official IC Thread qualify to be posted here. Same rules apply.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on May 6, 2019 12:26:37 GMT -5
Joseph Crowsmith, Frügenheem - Titenfisca (Some many months ago)
To my love Mary McNeil,
Hail my dearest! I am currently writing to you from my quarters in the LNS Intrinsic at approximately midnight. No doubt my letter will take a couple of days to reach you but hopefully with my penning of it now, you'll grace me with a wonderful letter of your own blessing sooner. Me and my fellow sailors are docked near the Frügenheem islands of Titenfisca; a standard patrol I can assure you. We're making sure Lexidun and Titenfiscan trade goes untroubled during this so called Winter War. A troubling affair but I am sure that we'll have at those furry savages and be home in time for dinner! Alas your rugged and handsome navy sailor will not be participating in the ongoing military campaign up north but will be instead circling around west outwards towards the western ocean as to deter any Asakorian raiders (as if any make it that far in their wooden bathtubs they call ships HAH!). As such I will not be anchored in Harbourton for another week or two but will return soon to the Titenfiscan mainland and hope to see a piece of parchment with your handwriting and my name on it.
I love you, with all of my heart, always.
Yours forever,
Joseph Crowsmith
Entry 1 - November 3rd 1124ABL
We have set sail on our patrol west, the captain assures me that we will return in a few days time, he finds amusement in my asking. I cannot help myself, I love her so! When Dunsley introduced me to her when I went his family's farm, I was in awe, gobsmacked and... in love! She was simply the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes upon; nothing like the harlots my dearest parents would have me betrothed to back in Pontath! Her skin is paler than most yet glowing, plain long brown hair that somehow shines in the sunlight, no makeup or fancy dress but freckles and hazel eyes! I cannot help myself but feel like a mere peon in her aura of beauty. She has a fiery personality despite her unassuming stature, she accompanied me and Dunsley all around town and gave me a tour of Loness. Before long I found my good friend had wondered off, giving me a smile and a wink as he disappeared into the night (I must remember to write to him to see how he's enjoying the army). That night... oh what a night. We drank, danced and sang. Folks back home would have laughed at me and I would have never allowed myself to be caught dead dancing there. But with her, with Mary, she made me feel alive. She made me let go of all my insecurities and let me have so much fun in that tavern. A lord's son surrounded by farmers and peasants and I had never felt more at home.
Ach. I must stop myself, there is no amount of parchment readily available for me to gush all of my love for that woman into. I shall turn in for the night, hopefully my dreams will be of her tonight, that would be wonderful.
Entry 2 - November 5th 1124ABL
Our patrol has been, as expected, standard and very mundane. I doubt Asakorian ships would even get past the full might of the Lexidun Navy blockading them, considering the savages probably use 5 planks of wood barely tied together and call it the dreaded Asakorian Navy. Haha. No they would not get past us and certainly not get this far, our ship the Intrinsic is a fine vessel and an engineering marvel compared to anything the furries can scrap together. We're stocked to the brim with food, wool for warmth and we even have cannons on board. A new doctrine apparently that I hear is very effective when fired from a vessel into an unguarded coastline, our ships even have iron plating on some areas. Asakor doesn't stand a chance!
What I wouldn't give for just a LITTLE bit of excitement around here however. I'm beginning to grow tired of Jenning's terrible fluting skills, thankfully Roland has plenty of tales to share about his pirate hunting days with the legendary Captain Andross in the Southus Sea. The captain is a rather quiet man but a good one, he prescribes us a gallon of whiskey every day or two between all of us and challenges us to beat his previous crew's record. A challenge I must now accept and be gone from this notebook!
Entry 3 - November 6th 1124ABL
I don't know what they feed those boys from Selkirk... but we stand no chance of beating their record. My head is splitting, it feels as if though a smith's hammer is smashing away at the anvil that is my brain. I am taking my lovely lady's advice and writing my entry on deck with the sun setting upon me, a mixture of vodka and water resting in my mouth. It is hair of the dog sure but a welcome relief none the less.
The vast open waters before me is mesmerising, my mind is entranced at the sheer scope of this ocean, a body of water so large that no one thousands of years before me could or would dare explore it. I look at a map and realise how close we are to the proverbial end of the world, contrary to my cousin's insistence, our world does not physically end at all known maps of Western Calveria but lead to places unknown. The imbecile would denounce his flat Calveria hypothesis here and now if he was with me.
With all my musings and wonderment however, I find myself having to reassure myself every now and then by turning behind me and glimpsing the far and faint, but still there lands of Titenfisca. Civilisation just feels so... far from us right now. I feel far away from home, from my friends and from Mary. I hope we turn around soon.
Entry 4 - November 8th 1124ABL
Jennings threw himself overboard this morning, his screams woke us all up and despite two of his bunk mates holding him down, he managed to wriggle free and make his way up onto the deck and then overboard into the icy depths below. We're all stunned and the mood today can be described as certainly anxious. I find myself feeling rather guilty, I never much liked the fellow and my interactions with him were few and unfriendly but I certainly wouldn't want anyone to go out like that. Harry and Hewet, his bunk mates, had complained days ago of Jennings thrashing around in his sleep and mumbling to himself. He apparently mentioned something about Yrutas? The older and more seasoned amongst us looked grim and have had sour attitudes all day. Us young bloods left scratching our heads. We know Yrutas, the God of Corruption, he's just some fable taught to us youngsters to keep us behaved and in bed early at night. "Stop kicking up a fuss or Yrutas will get you!"
Doesn't matter what background you're from, all of us see him as a boogeyman, which makes it all the more unnerving what had happened to Jennings. The captain has whipped us back into shape and I'm sure we'll move on from this incident soon enough, the pressures of sea life must have gotten to the lad, he never seemed like that hardy of a sailor.
Nevertheless, I hope we turn back soon.
Entry 5 - November 10th 1124ABL
The mood has returned to normal... almost. People are more amicable now and the old fellows have loosened up a bit, no longer baring their fangs at us when we question the meanings of Jennings' ramblings. We should be turning back soon I hear. I'm glad, my heart pounds slightly faster when I look around on deck and don't see land anywhere. I'm afraid to admit but the realisation of how far we are from land makes me quite anxious. I know, what kind of sailor does that make me, eh?! Pardon me for my machismo but I'd rather be near land so I can try out these new fangled ship cannons! It was what I was taught in my training of course! Ah well, soon we shall be ashore and hopefully I can see my beloved's correspondence, maybe they'll send me up north to see some action! ...although now that I think about it, I would much rather be in the arms of Miss McNeil than in some frozen waters, near land or not!
Hewet has just passed me a bottle of whiskey as I write this, he's a good man and so is his brother Harry. Yes, I was shocked to learn they were twins. One has ginger hair and the other’s is black! When they're not telling me stories from their home city of Bluxa or challenging me or one of the other to a game of Reconquest, they're telling me more about Jennings. He apparently mumbled more words in his sleep, nothing about the boogeyman but rather just utter gibberish. Nothing common nor celtmaric, just random syllables that sound almost like something to our common ears.
Vargarden, they think he said? Something about gardens? Maybe Jennings was wrong in the head the entire time and we just never noticed. Poor soul.
Entry 6 - November 13th 1124ABL
The chef asked me why I looked so glum today; I could not bare to tell him. Everyone is fulfilling their duties, the twins man the rigging, Roland scans the seas with his spyglass. The captain stands on deck, quiet as usual, his surprisingly smooth face unfitting a man of his middle age and occupation now that I notice. The rest of the crew is working around him and no one has ealised what I have.
There is no land in sight. It has been more than enough days of travel from the announcement of turning back and Titenfisca is nowhere to be seen. We might be taking an alternative route or going slower due to the wind but... it is the lack of commotion from my fellow man that truly worries me. They are just so... blissfully unaware.
BAH. I am worrying myself for no reason. Mother always said I was a worrisome boy, goddess above I shall not prove her right, I will instead think of Mary. A surefire way to sooth my nerves and ease my soul. We shall be home soon and I shall make it my mission to ride my way to Loness as soon as possible. Ha! Never mind the war!
Entry 7 - November 16th 1124ABL
Roland has just admitted to me in private the severity of our situation, the navigation equipment has stopped working. The orientation star has been spinning for a couple of days now and the stars prove fruitless. Roland speaks with dread in his voice, in stark contrast to the rest of the crew who are jovial as ever and unaware. The captain is quiet.
It is as I feare--
5 men just threw themselves of the side of the boat, Myratnis above what is happening!?! The rest of the crew sit bewildered yet docile in their bunks and rooms, Roland is the only one acting normally. That is: completely terrified. My hand shakes as I write this, something is WRONG. The captain is quietly assuring the somehow calm crew and I sit here with this damned journal sweating and shaking! I am doing my best to hide my condition to the rest of the crew but I believe with all my might that it is not me that is ill!
Entry 8 - November 17th 1124ABL
A creak, followed by a splash, bubbles and then nothing. This continued for most of the time after midnight. I fell asleep in exhaustion after hearing more than a dozen splashes. Wandering around deck this morning was chilling, a sizeable chunk of the crew is gone. I cannot find Roland. I fear the worst for him. Thankfully (for what it is worth) the twins are beginning to finally seem agitated and worried, although it is as if they are coming out of a stupor. We are currently in my room now with the door locked. The captain's footprints can be heard above on deck, he is still quiet. Harry has just revealed to me another terrifying observation, its the old guard, they're gone. They seem to be the ones throwing themselves off. I countered with, what about Jennings? He went quiet, Jennings was new blood like us. That said however, I cannot help but agree with his findings, most of the crew on board now are the young ones. Setting themselves to work, just as oblivious as always to the horror that envelopes around them. The few old ones that remain stay on deck most of the day, staring out towards the vastness of the ocean.
They all stare west.
Entry 9 - November 20th 1124ABL
The captain is surely the cause of this, he is compromised but I'm not sure on the goddess how. We hear splashing every hour or two now and the young seem to throw themselves off in troves too, we are now a few dozen men. Me and the twins have, somehow, kept our sanity and have collected ourselves. We have been amassing weapons and armour, Roland is alive but manic, he is an old man and realised quickly what would become of him so he had sealed himself in the lowest pantry. We found him whilst scrounging for food so we need not be in the company of those who's sanity has left them, for fear of them realising we still have ours. He gives us food and supplies.
We plan to mutiny and confront the captain. His silence must be ended.
Entry 10 - November 21st 1124
Mutiny was a failure. Captain and crew fought back with almost sheer animal-like behaviour, not a sword or knife in sight amongst them, they overpowered the three of us despite us cutting them down with our swords. I heard the screams of the twins. Oh gods their screams, our swords were tossed aside and I was thrown into the brig and all I heard was screaming, tearing and gurgling. Harry was clearly the first to go whatever they did to him, Hewet was screaming at them to stop but they did not listen and threw whatever was left of his brother's body into ocean. They murdered Hewet next and... oh gods, oh fucking gods... I think they ate him. They might STILL be eating him. Goddess help me please.
Roland is my only ally left and his mind is deteriorating, he has given me my journal which I scribble into as to calm myself to little avail. With what little sanity he has left, he has given me his sword and has unlocked the door. The feasting has stopped now and they are all quiet. I should act NO I must act, I MUST FIGHT.
Entry 11
We are gone. Dead and gone.
Entry 12 - November ?? 1124
I am alive but at what cost? I ran up on deck and swung wildly, tripping and finding myself drenched in blood. I screamed at what I saw. Gore, viscera, body parts all over deck. They had dismembered not only the twins but fucking EACH OTHER, their stomachs disembowelled and strips of flesh torn from various parts of their exposed and pale bodies. Many of them had no lips and only grinned at me with their bloodied faces as I rose to my feet shaking with fear. They were no match for me thankfully in their state but my goddess above, they should have been dead ALREADY from what they did to each other. As I cut down the last of them, trying not to throw up and lose myself. I saw him, standing there with his hands behind his back not a splatter of red on his black and blue Lexidun pea coat. He did not turn to face me as I yelled at him in disgust and rage. "WHY?! What have you DONE to us?!!" He turned to face me and I saw why.
His eyes were glowing with purple energy where his eyes should have been, he spoke with a broken and inhuman voice. "I have enlightened you all." He raised his arms in the air and laughed, looking past me to the east. I turned as I felt a violent gust of wind slam into my back. A massive tidal wave, almost 10 times the height of our ship, barrelling towards us. I ran below deck as far and as fast as I could, scrambling and still hearing his laughter behind me as I threw myself into the lowest part of the ship, the pantry. I swear, just before the tidal wave hit and its roaring enveloped me and I blacked out, I swear on my father's grave I could hear a faint splash. It was so quiet when blackness enveloped me.
I awoke with a sizeable gash on my head, soaked clothes and a giggling Roland maintaining a camp fire to my side. We are still in the pantry, however said pantry is now beached along with the rest of the wreckage of the Intrinsic and Roland tells me that I "No go outside now boy, this is a sacred place."
The old man has lost it but he has saved my life and then some, he is my only friend right now. I am tired and I will explore my new surroundings tomorrow.
Entry 13 - November 1124
This is not Calveria. This place is a grave. The beach where we are stranded in grey and stretches on for miles, further inland are pebbles and rocks leading to... I... I'm not sure, I can't quite describe it. I don't know if I WANT to describe it. Roland is asleep but his health is failing, he is coughing blood and from my observations he has broken his ribs. He may not last the night. He is mumbling and I am trying not to hear his words as I write, I'm trying to ignore him but he's saying the same things Jennings did. Yrutas. VARGARDIA.
Myratnis, please in my time of need give me strength, the pantry's food is waterlogged and will go off. Please let me see her again. Please.
Entry 13 15 fuck 14 - November(? ? ?) 1124
He's gone. Roland is gone and I'm all alone. Tears are falling from my eyes as I write, crying over the madman who saved my life only to abandon me in purgatory. Is this place the void? Will Decidus enter the coffin I am now calling a home and take me into the nothing?
Entry 15 - November(?) 1124
Despite the gentle snowfall, it does not rest of this vast grey beach, the air is cold sure but not biting as there is no wind to carry it into me. I have amassed what little food I could scrounge and have relinquished Roland of his clothing for extra layers and for bandaging my head. I have used the last of the whiskey to treat my cuts and I have decided to get a sense of my surroundings. The sky is grey, the sand is grey, the... things in the distant are grey. But the water is not, it is a sickly blue colour but it is welcome juxtaposition to the oppression that surrounds me. It also orientates me, I shall explore north and south on this beach and collect what I have gathered when I return.
I'm going to die here.
Entry 16 - December now probably 1124 After the Birth of Lexidus
Nothing. There is absolutely nothing for miles either north or south, this beach, it goes on forever. I truly am in purgatory, this is where all the souls go when we die. Where is Myratnis, where is Decidus, have they abandoned me? Are the gods not real? Are they dead? Are they... gone? Faded? The structures to the west taunt me and torment me, they know I will approach them. Oh how foolish of you Joseph, you contemptuous bastard, did you think you could ignore us forever? No your fate is with us. US. COME TO US.
I feel. I feel like I know whats going to happen. As if I'm an observer in a body I do control yes but one that also feels predetermined. Like a book I've already read and know how its going to end. My food is gone and my wounds have opened up again.
I know what I must do.
To my love Mary McNeil,
It is a small reassuring blessing knowing that maybe my previous letter will be the last you ever hear from me. Knowing that my final worlds to you were filled with love and hopes of seeing you again. Rather than what I'm about to write; in what you may never see. I am gone my love, dead and gone. My ship is wrecked and my crew is gone, I will soon expire and I am so so so far away from you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I never got to see you again and dance with you at the Kobold's Barn. I'm sorry I'll never hold you in my arms and be able to tell you how beautiful you are and how much I love you. I'm sorry that I'll never be able to tell you that I wanted to marry you and to give you the best life that you always deserved.
I'm sorry. Dance my love, dance and don't you ever stop. I am now about to set off towards my final destiny and I will not return. If you ever find this... if anyone finds this, I will be heading west with my journal and I shall leave this letter behind. Sealed in fine leather and placed with the most sturdy box I could find.
I go now to face the monoliths, the structures I can barely comprehend, let alone describe. Are they even real or has the knock to my head rendered me mad? I shall never know.
I love you Mary McNeil, with all of my heart, forever.
Joseph Crowsmith - Officer of the LNS Intrinsic
P.S - Dunsley, look after her or I swear to god I'll haunt your arse.
Some unknown time later, in a far away place, with towering monoliths nearby. A man lies amongst the gray and black pebbles. Next to him isva monster, dead and bleeding, it is unlike anything the dying man has ever seen before. He has slain it but in doing so has broken his weapon and received a claw to his torso in response. Joseph lies there, the cold but still air gracing his open wounds and filling his body with the sensation of cold. It is the first thing he has felt for weeks. He coughs and feels his body begin to numb and his vision go fuzzy. As he stares into the grey skies above him, he lets the tears finally fall from his eyes as he begins to let go. All the suffering and pain beginning to subside as he lets everything go. He thinks of her, holding her close as he spun around that tavern floor, the bards playing their songs and the people cheering. Her laughter and his happiness, her eyes locked to his, her lips to his own. He dies. Feeling his love's embrace that one final time, to him it is real and the last thing he sees as his soul leaves him. He will wait for her.
In that moment, in the vast wasteland that is someplace in west of Calveria. In what feels like an eternity, a moment of happiness rings out in time and stays with the body of Joseph. The first ever Calverian in Vargardia.
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Post by axeldonia on May 25, 2019 16:59:38 GMT -5
Cultural learnings of Calveria for make great benefit of Glorious Titenfisca Republic
Of the chapters 1: lexidus
Greetings! In this series of books I and my companion Elan Bagarsskotputsarsson will explore the multiple of many nations in the great world that is Calveria to take this important knowledge home to benefit Helena, our glorious leader!
first of our many destinations is Lexidus, friend of our glorious republic and least incestuous monarchy in whole of calveria! Every titenfiscan knows this place. Good beer, very nice people and home to many natural landscapes! our first Lexidun stop is Harbourton, favourite spot for those titenfiscans that want some easy money before venture into world. Sailing very important here, so we decide to visit local harbourmaster!
He did not like us.
Stop 2: Camelon!
Camelon is biggest city in Lexidus, famous in Titenfisca for great sewer system and being the seat of the local warlord! On first attempt to see this dangerous man end with arrest and escort to Titenfiscan embassy, so instead we decide to meet old friend! As Titenfisca is about to enter devastating war, friend Raleigh Gundebruce is in capital and said yes to speak with us.
“Greetings, friend Raleigh!”
“Why are ye cunts speakin’ common sae weird?”
“Is how we always speak!”
“Ach, whatever ya weird Squids. Hey, me flagons’ empty! More wine!”
“We come here to-”
“Scuse’ me. MORE WINE! There we go.”
“We come here to learnings of the Lexidun ways!”
“The Lexidun ways? I’ll tell ya about the Lexidun fuckin’ way. The true Lexidun way is charging headfirst into the Lexidun underground with a mace in one hand and a torch in the other, going to town on whatever wee beasties are attacking the convoys this time. I remember this one time this mantis fella had chewed up half the caravan’s horses and was gonna stuff ‘imself with some poor merchants had I not bashed his head in. Gods, I was strong then. Then you return up whatever sorry hole you went down through and feast your cares away until you run out of coin. That my friends, is the Lexidun way. More wine!”
“Very nice! Thank you for delivering your knowledge unto us!”
First interview is officially considered great success! Come back next time, we visit mysterious kingdom of Kanso-Oromi!
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 21, 2019 13:08:55 GMT -5
Peter Mayhew, City of Pontath - Lexidus
"So wait. You're telling me... people put pieces of paper in a box and then the box decides who rules over them?" Peter slurred, his mouth never more than a foot away from his tankard at any given time. His shift was over, he bloody deserved it, he thought.
The blue squidspawn clasped their hands over their face in dismay and gurgled. "No! For the fifth time now, its not THE BOX that decides, the box isn't magical nor has it any role in the election process. It is a CONTAINER that holds the citizen's record of who they wish to vote for."
"Ahhhhh right I get you now... bit like how we elect our city chiefs!"
Withdrawing their hands from their small face, the squidspawn adjusted their feathered cap and coughed.
"Well. Kind of. Certainly in Pontath, Redan and Harbourton; yes your chiefs there are elected to the closest degree of the democratic method in this country. However, all of your other chiefs are at best just an oligarchy or at worst aristocrac- ."
"Oli-what?" Peter interrupted, some of his beer spilling over his great ginger beard.
"OLI-GAR-CHY"
"What the fuck is an Olive Archy. Is that a country run by fucking olives Gunter?"
Gunter the Squidspawn narrowed their ice blue eyes and stared in dismay at the ginger giant sitting next to them in the pub.
"N..No? That's not it at all?! Its a form of power structure in which power rests with a small number of people."
"Right?"
"These small groups effectively control your cities and therefore your lives. What I'm trying to get at here Peter is that you Lexidun's need true representation! Democracy! Republicanism!"
"Why?"
Gunter narrowed their eyes even more and shifted closer.
"...because its fair? Because its the best way for Lexiduns to live and thrive? Because it means you'll get a proper government that looks after you?"
Peter suddenly straightened his posture and downed his drink, slamming it on the bar.
"Well we've got a government that looks after us. We're given free education thanks to reforms made by Queen Erina and continued efforts by Tommen. Blair isn't half bad either. You see, all these monarchs are trained for running the country and keeping us small folk happy and honestly I'd rather have that, a trained professional looking after us and knowing us. Rather than say, an extreme right-wing populist who has zero qualifications but thanks to a mixture of charisma and strong arming, rise to the top of a campaign on false promises and then proceed to take advantage of us."
"That... that's arguably the most colloquial you've ever been in a conversation between us Peter."
"Of course it is! I'm not an idiot you know."
Peter would then proceed to rise from his bar stool and slip on his own cloak, tumbling to the tavern's floor with a mighty thud.
Gunter laughed.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jul 25, 2019 3:21:19 GMT -5
Federal Tribes Presidencies, South Kyras
"General Vyrodok," the Guardsman called out as the older man rode forward, two Death Hounds snarling and lashing at their restraints as the man before him held the reins, occasionally whipping them to force the horses attached to the cart to keep them moving, the fear being palpable from them as they felt the Hounds' eyes stare at them in hunger.
"Yes, Corporal?" Vyrodok said, turning to face the man: the Corporal kept a stony face as he saw the scarred visage of the General - his right side was a drooping mess of scar tissue and burns, the right corner of his lip sagging into a sneer.
"I have news regarding the whereabouts of Chancellor Kalċidon and the Army units under his command," the Corporal replied, quietly wondering just why Vyrodok summoned an entire company of Republican Guards to assist him in what the General called "hunting."
"It can wait," Vyrodok said, giving a shrug as he lashed the reins once more, "Right now, the hunt is the more pressing matter at hand, and I believe that what the Old General has to offer is very little to what I have in store."
Before the Corporal could reply, Vyrodok held up a gloved fist, the company stopping in their tracks: in front of them, the wide grasslands gave way to a small collection of huts, with several people engaging in activities such as stripping down Scute Dragon hides and flesh, along with sharpening their tools.
"Sergeant," Vyrodok called out, the aforementioned officer approaching from the back of the cart, his face kept blank as he prostrated before Vyrodok.
"My General, what do you wish of me?"
"Those savages over there, what tribe do they belong to?"
The Sergeant gave a glance over to the village before looking back at Vyrodok, "Sir, they appear to be members of the Hoyi tribe."
"Ah, the cunt-eaters, correct?"
The Sergeant did a double-take, "Sir?"
"The whores who fancy other women and need the Eryro to fuck them good enough to have children, right?"
The Corporal replied, "Indeed, Sir."
"Corporal, I did not give you fucking permission to speak: you open your mouth only when I fucking tell you to, are we clear?" Vyrodok shot back, keeping sight on the village, his face not changing but his voice gave his anger away.
"Understood, Sir."
"Good," Vyrodok replied, "Sergeant, those are the Hoyi, correct?"
"They are, Sir."
"Splendid," Vyrodok said candidly, "Release the Hounds, they could use a bite to eat."
"Very well, Sir, I'll go fetch the meat so they can eat."
"Remember to toss it at the village, I'd hate to lose you from the mauling of my precious Hounds."
The Sergeant tensed up, but kept himself from replying: the last man to have taken umbrage from Vyrodok's behavior had been fed to said hounds, immediately after his legs and tongue were cut off to prevent him from running or coherently screaming.
"Corporal, it's time you bear witness to a lesson needed in the governance of Kyras," Vyrodok replied, gesturing for the Corporal to move to his side, "Young men like you are the future of this country, and it's expected that all of you will come to serve as the next rulers of Kyras once men like me and the Old General Kalċidon are long dead."
"And that would be, Sir?"
"Simple," Vyrodok said, a smile on his face as he saw the Sergeant wheel the two cages with the Hounds in front of them, moving in front of them from atop his horse as two men approached from the side, each with long poles to open the cages, "When in contact with the savage tribes of Kyras, it is expected that one thing must be done: exterminate all the brutes."
The two men saw Vyrodok gesture his hand down, hitting the locks open with the poles, the Sergeant immediately trotting like hell as the Hounds chased him, their saber-like fangs nipping at the air right behind his horse, the Sergeant holding a large slab of meat in his right hand.
The Hoyi sentry saw the Sergeant riding right towards her, only to stumble back as she felt the slap of cold meat against her bare stomach, watching as the man turned suddenly to the right. Before she could turn her head back, the Hound was on top of her, its jaws mercifully crushing her skull and giving her an immediate death as the other Hound grabbed her legs, pulling away from its compatriot and tearing the sentry in half.
The Corporal watched on, disgust clearly written on his face as he saw the two Hounds tear through the camp, the tribals screaming in fear and pain as the beasts tore them apart. Briefly, he saw out the corner of his eye several Hoyi women and children running away, the Hounds too preoccupied to respond. Unfortunately, Vyrodok noticed where he was looking, the glee evident on his face, "Splendid catch, Corporal: those savages were preparing to run away - men, catch them."
The formation of soldiers immediately rushed past, their horses trotting swiftly as their riders prepared the nets. One of the Hoyi women had only a second to let out a shout as she saw the soldiers bearing down on them, only to be slammed down as the net caught all of them, the stones weighing them down. A Hound took notice and snarled, rushing forward as the Hoyi could only scream in fear. The spear quickly punctured through its neck, the beast slamming down onto the ground, blood spurting out as the other Hound took notice.
"Biskit, stay," Vyrodok called out, the Hound immediately standing still as it saw its master on top of his horse, a stern look on his face before the man swiftly buried a dagger into the stomach of the man next to him.
The Corporal gagged as he felt the blade puncture his intestines, only to collapse onto the ground as Vyrodok ripped the blade up, leaving the Corporal to make a futile effort to grab his guts, Vyrodok simply dismounting.
"Damn shame a young man like you had to throw your life away in such a manner, you had so much potential: before you die, however, what exactly was it that you had about Kalċidon?"
"He- he said that there's a meeting in Quijain, parley called by the Lexiduns: all of Calveria is there over the- the," the Corporal coughed, blood pouring out his mouth, gagging in pain as Vyrodok grabbed a part of his bared intestines.
"The what, exactly?"
"The Cursed One, Yrutas: Lexidus is wanting to kill him."
"The old man left the country to kill a fuckboy, did he?" Vyrodok mused, the Corporal looking at him in confusion.
"What the hell's a 'fuckboy?'"
"A complete pussy," Vyrodok said, only to jam his blade into the Corporal's throat, a spray of blood coating his face as the Corporal expired, "Biskit, there's food over here."
The Hound complied, immediately walking over to the Corporal's corpse as Vyrodok looked over to the cavalry formation, roughly dragging the Hoyi captives who were screaming in fear, "Sir, requesting permission to speak."
"Permission granted."
"What do you want us to do with the captives?"
"You can fuck the women and keep the kids as slaves: these bean flickers likely need a good fucking to get them back to what nature intended. The kids, eh, you can do whatever, just remember that you'll need to give them something that's not your rations - I'll be damned if these plainfuckers take Kyran property for consumption."
"Understood, Sir."
"Oh, and one last thing."
"Sir?"
"Be prepared to walk a lot: we're going to Quijain."
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Aug 14, 2019 20:33:46 GMT -5
Mork Croddilax, City of Selkirk - Lexidus
"You what?" Croaked Mork. He had just offloaded some crates and was concentrated on not having them fall on him and crush him, a unfortunate issue that faced many Kobolds when it came to manual labour, luckily for Mork he was a sturdy and strong one.
"Where do you see us in a couple hundred years time?" His human friend questioned again.
"...dead? In the ground somewhere with a gravestone still above us hopefully?"
Boyd shook his head and chuckled, helping Mork lift the final crate from the merchant's wagon. "Naw. Not US mate. I'm talking about Lexidus."
The gray kobold shrugged, wiping his scaly brow and sitting down on a locked chest. "Oh right, us as in us Lexiduns..."
The human sat down next to his friend and offered a flask of water, to which Mork absently mindlessly refused, staring ahead at the bustling road next to them leading into the south entrance of Selkirk. Boyd took a hearty swig and spoke. "Yes us Lexiduns, come on Mork, you're a Lexidun just like me and the rest of us."
"Ach I know Boyd, it just takes a bit getting used to you know? Clan mindset and all that."
"I know. Clan Helvez was it?"
"Yeah."
"Whats done is done mate. You want to make a name for yourself and not live on the fringe of society. Coming to the city was a good choice. Clan Xarbus treating you right?"
"Sure. They're very... official, I don't even think they're a proper clan, more of a social club to help us integrate with civilisation." Mork mused, the afternoon sun washing over him and his companion with warm orange glow.
"Hey." He lightly punched the kobold on the shoulder. "You don't need integration, you're a stand up guy."
"Heh. I guess, it helps that folk here are friendly, I haven't been skinned for a fine pair of boots yet!" Mork joked and replied with a small tap of his fist as well.
"Ugh, those posh Deen pricks, bunch of wankers the lot of them. I honestly can't believe they chased you and your clan out for just trying to sell furs." Boyd grumbled.
"Well I'm still here and there's some noble's son out there with an arrow head lodged within his kneecap." Mork bluntly stated.
They both laughed, Mork gesturing for the water flask and being given it. Lowering his head to stretch his neck around, a long days work finally coming to an end.
"Well then?"
Mork raised his head. "Well what?"
"Where do you think Lexidus will be in a couple of hundred years?" Boyd pressed, his curly black hair bouncing as he rose to start moving goods onto another cart parked near them in the loading bay.
"Oh right! Erm... well from what I've gathered from my somewhat short time in civilisation, this feud between the Church of Myratnis and the new Followers of Zypnac is going to only get worse. The Zypnacians will establish themselves across Lexidus and soon have enough of followers to establish a church of their own and that will definitely rub Myratnis worshippers the wrong way."
"Very astute! ...and correct in my opinion. I'm noting a large amount of Zypnac support in the West rather than the East, I guess folk are far more stubborn near the Quijaini border." Boyd talked as he loaded another crate.
Mork continued. "I think in general the East is going to develop far differently compared to the West, what do you have in west? Harbourton, one of the most free and progressive city's in all of Lexidus, no doubt influenced by the republicanism of Titenfiscans."
"Oh aye. Idealists and morons."
"In the East? Nobility and tradition, nobles and retired generals. To say these folks are conservative is an understatement, they're orthodox to the core."
"Posh cunts and wankers."
"Not only that, we're going to see the rise of the south and north, what with the new colonies established and beyond."
"Don't forget Asakor and Fyllia, our new found neighbours and allies." Boyd interjected.
"You're right, heh, the Dual Kingdoms as well." Mork stipulated.
Helping one another to load the final piece of cargo onto the carriage. The two friends left the loading bay and informed their foreman, continuing their talk as they made their way through the Merchant's Association warehouse.
"This whole Empire business is going to be one giant balancing act, it'll need a skilled tightrope walker at the helm, a good ruler." Mork pondered, taking his bag of coins as payment for the day and heading out into the streets with Boyd.
"Dealing with growing divides at home, mounting costs from colonising and on top of all that dealing with Eastern Calveria? I'm not jealous of those rulers' position these next centuries."
Boyd gave a small laugh as the two of them walked down the main street, Mork stopping and raising a brow.
"What's so funny?" he asked slightly annoyed.
Boyd replied with a smile. "You say you're still getting used to being a Lexidun and you know more about current and future affairs than the average man here!"
Mork sighed and laughed. "If you say so, my clan always taught me to be aware of your surroundings and things going on around you is all."
"Well I guess its one of the things we have in common" Boyd emphasised.
"True." Mork concluded as the two of them stopped in the city centre, the sun beginning to settle into the horizon and bathe them in yet more dusk.
"You know what else we have in common?" Boyd remarked.
"What?"
The human gestured to the inn to his right, bustling with people and music blaring out from within its walls. "First round on me fellow Selkirk Bairn?"
Mork gave a toothy smile and faced the inn before cracking his scaly knuckles.
"You're on!"
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Oct 25, 2019 14:58:23 GMT -5
Cornelius MacUspaig, City of Loness - Lexidus
"THESE WILL CHANGE THE COUNTRY, NAE... THE ENTIRETY OF CALVERIA MY BOY!"
He manically bellowed as he threw his hands towards the various chalk diagrams on the black wall. Dust floating in the rays of light piercing the mad inventor's workshop through dirty windows. His "boy" then opening said windows to bring some fresh air into the unnaturally odorous room.
The white and frizzy haired man squinted as his ginger grandson, Ryan, coughed profusely. "Grandfather... *cough* it has been a week since I wrote to you and told you I was coming, surely you must have received it?"
"I NEVER REALLY CHECKED MY BOY, I WAS TOO BUSY CHANGING THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT."
"...how long have you not checked your post?"
"ONE WHOLE MONTH I THINK!"
"Oh my god grandpa..." Ryan sighed as he stared at the old man, face palming briefly before finding a stack of letters neatly piled up. Next to the fireplace.
"HUMOUR ME MY BOY, I DIDN'T HOLD MYSELF UP HERE FOR 60 DAYS FOR NOTHING!!"
"Please stop yelling."
"Oh! OH yes I forgot about these." The inventor dug deep into his ears and pulled out two wads of brown wool, at least, two wads of NOW brown wool.
"...wait a minute, 60 days is two months not on-" his grandson had only a second to ponder before being dragged towards the scribbled on wall, and what a scribble it was. Grand illustrations and mechanical jargon dotted every inch of the improvised work space, a frequent habit of Cornelius due to his preference for chalk over ink.
The old man first stopped at a drawing of what appeared to be row boat attached to a large spherical sack suspended in the air. "Now this is one of my more mundane creations... BUT STILL A MARVEL SHE WILL BE!"
"You're yelling again."
"Ah right apologies... I call this: the Air Buoyant Gondola! Imagine being able to sail the skies, purveying the goddess' own green earth and her sparkling shores too! By creating a focused blast of heat within a large enough hollow envelope of light material... one can be lifted into the air!"
Ryan begrudgingly listened to his grandfather's pitches, he had gotten very used to them from a young age, he used to find them fascinating and enthralling as a child. Adulthood had tempered this wonder significantly... although a small part of him still found the older man's inventions interesting... if a little far fetched. "That sound interesting... how do you row once you're in the air?"
"Ah well... I haven't figured that out yet. Nor have I found how to produce a flame with a light enough mechanism... No matter though, I'm sure I'll figure that out down the line!" He beckoned the younger man further down the room towards another diagram, this time of what appeared to be a crossbow but with no string and tubular piece of metal on top instead.
"Your crossbow is missing its limb grandpa." Ryan chuckled. Cornelius grinned wide, raising his finger in conjecture.
"Ah, you see my naive boy, this is not a crossbow. This is a Ignition Bow! Using the power of combustion this bow can lob spherical projectiles at a unfathomable speed! Piercing the sturdiest of armours and man!"
"No."
"N-no?" croaked Cornelius.
"No grandpa! We have been over this a thousand damned times! You are NOT putting cannon powder into anything that isn't a cannon!"
"Bah! I wasn't suggesting cannon powder per say..."
"Even I know that nothing else combusts like cannon powder, NOTHING and the damn stuff is too volatile in any bore smaller than kickball. I am telling you now, this hand cannon of yours is DOOMED to fail!"
"...hand cannon, now THAT'S a better name my lad!"
"Ugggghh. Just show me something else for goddess sake."
Cornelius jumped a little in excitement (or mania, Ryan wasn't sure) and showed another, very intricate and detailed drawing. It appeared to be two boxes connected by a shiny string. "Here's something far more sensible for you my lad... I call it: The Semaphore Clicker!"
"Semaphore... thats naval term... signal flags right? What, these two boxes can signal each other?" Ryan mused, childlike wonder slowly creeping its way into his mind once again.
"Aye exactly my lad! Your mother always complains to me about two things: my body odour and messengers taking too long when delivering your letters to her! So I though to myself... what if the power of telepathy was something not just exclusive to the Mages of Myratnis and the magically inclined but everyone? Normal people like you and me?"
Ryan slowly nodded and was quietly stunned at how coherent his grandpa was being right now. "Through clicking?"
"YES! The clicking can be accomplished by the push of a button and if we were to attach meaning to... lets say the length between clicks we could have these pattern of clicks form words and sentences!"
"So like... instantaneous messages between people separated by distance? How far can this thing go?"
"Forever. Or at least as far as it needs to go! Cities, provinces, countries, the whole of Calveria! With enough metal formed into what I am calling "a wire" I can transfer the force of a click through the wire and into a box miles away!"
Ryan scoffed, Cornelius losing him with his final statement. "Grandpa... how on Calveria do you transfer a physical force into a small tube of metal and then make it click miles away? That's impossible."
The old man's smile dropped and Ryan felt smug, for only a second however, as his grandfather's face lit up with a very clear and proud look on his face. "Oh no Ryan. It is possible. VERY possible."
He strode to the centre of the workshop, a confused Ryan in tow, a massive canvas cloth covering a mysterious shape of equipment. Dragging the brown blanket off in dramatic fashion. Ryan couldn't quite understand what he was looking at, it appeared to be the internals of a mill but with a cogwheels and... what appeared to be these "wires", all of different colour, were wrapped around drums of metal.
"Grandpa... what is this? Is THIS the reason you chose this workshop?"
"Aye my lad, thankfully they kept a lot of the old mill's internals when renovating, it was a blessing in disguise as the constant spinning of the water mill proved the catalyst for my proudest invention..."
"What is it?"
"Power my son."
"Power? I don't..."
"Energy! In isolated form! Its better if I just show you." Cornelius held a lever down next to the machine and the room vibrated slightly with the sound of the mill activating, wood groaning on wood and then metal grinding against metal. This continued for a solid minute before Ryan spoke up.
"...what am I looking for?"
"Look at the wires my boy."
He brought his attention to the drums wrapped in what he assumed to be gold, silver and copper. What he saw shattered his cynicism and adult ways, he felt like a child again. A light, thin and intermittent flashing in and out of existence, accompanied with a... buzz? Like that of a wasp or bee but much louder and far sharper than any stinger. It started off flashing between existence but its presence grew more prominent and sustained, soon a constant stream of thin light crackled between the two drums, a moving a morphing its shape far faster than anything Ryan had ever seen in his entire life. He took as step back in both awe and fear.
"Don't be afraid. This is our future Ryan. The future of all of Calveria. What you're looking at is an energy I've been amassing for little under a year now. THIS is what will flow through the wires between not only the clicker but a whole pantheon of future devices!"
"Grandfather..."
The old man looked at his grandson and gave a heartfelt smile. "I promised your mother I would address one of her complaints to me before I would part from this world... and I'm not taking a damned bath anytime soon!"
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Post by axeldonia on Oct 25, 2019 16:41:24 GMT -5
Guild hall of the Honorable Guild of Mailmen, Mündungshafen
Somewhere in the bowels of the guild hall a pair of Squidspawn are marching through the building, arguing ferociously. They finally come to a halt as one of them slams open the door to a secluded room, quickly followed by his comerade.
“They're onto me, dude. Those Pals are sharp as nails up there. You can't put anything past them. Oh, my Godess, dude, I'm freaking out. I am so stressed out. I feel like I'm having a panic attack.”
“You want to talk about stress? You want to talk about stress?! Okay? I've stumbled onto a major Guild conspiracy, Erik. How about that for stress?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“This Guild is being bled like a stuck pig, Erik, and I got a paper trail to prove it. Check this out. Take a look at this.”
One of the Squidspawn walk over to a nearby wall that has been peppered with parchments and strung up with needles and red thread.
“Goddess Almighty, Alroy.”
“That right there is the mail. Now let's talk about the mail. Can we talk about the mail, please, Erik? I've been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, OK? "Missus Helena", their name keeps coming up over and over again. Every day Helena's mail is getting sent back to me. Missus Helena! Missus Helena! I look in the mail, and ther whole box is Missus Helena! So I say to myself, "I gotta find the gal! I gotta go up to her office and put her mail in the Gal's goddamn hands! Otherwise, she's never going to get it and she's going to keep coming back down here." So I go up to Helena's office and what do I find out, Erik? What do I find out?! There is no Missus Helena. The woman does not exist, okay? So I decide, "Oh shit, buddy, I gotta dig a little deeper." There's no Missus Helena? You gotta be kidding me! I got boxes full of Helena! All right. So I start marchin' my way down to Cael in SR and I knock on her door and I say, "Cael! Cael! I gotta talk to you about Helena." And when I open the door what do I find? What do I find Erik? There's not a single goddamn desk in that office! There. is. no. Cael in SR. Erik, half the employees in this building have been made up! This office is a goddamn ghost town!”
“Okay Alroy I'm going to have to stop you right there. Not only do all of these people exist, but they've been asking for their mail on a daily basis. It's all they're talking about up there. Godess Above, dude, we are going to lose our jobs.”
“Well, calm down, 'cause here's one thing that's not gonna happen.”
“What?”
“We're not gonna get fired.”
“We're not?”
“’Cause we've already been fired.”
“We've lost our jobs?!”
“About three days ago, a couple of expulsion notices came in the mail. One for you and one for me. So what did I do? I mailed them halfway to the Ahnsijnate, okay?”
“Alroy, if we've lost our jobs, that means we've lost our delivering position, which means all of this was for nothing. Goddamn it, dude. I'm having a panic attack. I am actually having a panic attack.”
Erik clutches his chest, grapping the cup he’d put down on a nearby table and taking a long sip.
“Oh, will you settle down and have another cup of tea?“
“I am, bro.”
Alroy sighs and turns to look in the direction of the wall.
“All right, well, fine. You know what, Eimear ? Give this guy a bag of Melange, He's freaking out.”
“Who?”
“Eimear , She's the gal who tipped me off to Missus Helena.”
“Eimear ?! Who the hell is Eimear ?!”
“You don't see Eim-? Oh, shit, where the hell did she-?”
“You've lost your mind. You've lost your goddamn mind, Alroy”
Titenfiscan Tavern Tent, Crusader Camp.
A pair of Squidspawn and a human walk into the tent, addressing a human standing behind a small bar counter.
“Hey, Daniel, we need to talk. We don't want you making any major bar decisions alone anymore. Because you're sleazy and we don't trust you.”
“Yeah, we want to vote on things now, okay? We want a democracy.”
“Well, that ain't gonna work. Because you Pals get really emotional about everything. You'll start arguing about shit and nothing will get done.”
“We know we're emotional people and we've discussed that. We think we have a solution. We're going to have a daily meeting where we will discuss all bar matters. Emotion will be suppressed and reason will prevail.“
The Squidspawn suddenly chime in.
“Reason will prevail!”
“Oh, yeah, we decided also that we would say "Reason will prevail," every time someone says...“
“Reason will prevail!”
“You don't have to say it right now, because I'm just explaining to Daniel that reason will prevail...”
“Reason will prevail!”
“Again, you don't have to say it right now. I'm just explaining...”
“If we're going to say it, we're gonna say it every time. If you made up the rule...“
The man behind the counter chuckles.
“Okay, I'll tell you what-- I like this.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. We should definitely do this to make everything fair. Everything above board. Let's go do it in there. Come on.”
A few minutes later, the gang is sat around a round table. One of the humans brings out a wooden spoon and ceremoniously hits the table.
“The first meeting of the Tavern congress shall commence henceforth. Oh, first order of business.“
“Yeah?”
“Let's talk about how Daniel handles the money.”
“Yes. Money, money, money, money, money, money...”
“Whoa, whoa. I know we got to talk about the money, but there are other issues that are pressing, too.”
“Like what, dude?”
“Like one that comes to mind is the dead pig.“
“What dead pig?“
“The dead pig in the alley. It's been there for about a week.”
“Yeah, and we decided that Ciara was going to throw it in the trash.”
“No, you decided that, We never got a vote. If Maclean and I got to vote on that, we would have voted to, like, you know, have a proper pig burial.”
“That's a waste of time and resources.”
“Okay, well, hold on a second there, Daniel. Let's put our new process into action. I think the pals should have an opportunity to state their case in a rational and unemotional way. Pals, you have the floor.“
The two Squidspawn stand up solemnly.
“Yeah. All right, sure. Easy. All right. No problem. Okay... Uh, okay, sometimes pigs die.”
“Right. Um, pigs, uh... die from slaughter sometimes. Sometimes not. There's also... Disease.”
“There's also disease in Titenfisca and abroad.”
“Many pigs... Goddes curse you! I don't know how to express myself unless through anger and personal attack! I'm getting very upset, because I'm not saying it right!“
One of the Squidspawn flares up in anger, turning their chair over and promting one of the humans to intervene.
“All right, Pals, Pals...”
“I want a pig funeral!”
“Pals, calm down. I'm going to step in here and I'm gonna speak for you for a moment, if I may. I don't think it's a good idea for us to spend all of our hard-earned cash on some ornate display for the disposal of what amounts to an animal carcass. An animal that we never knew-- or had a relationship with. So I'm going to-- I'm going to go ahead and say that I think we should just throw it in a dumpster.”
“Come on!”
“Oh..."
"But, but, but, we'll have a candle on site. We'll light it. We'll have a bard there and you pals can say a few words.“
“Huh. I don't love it.”
“Me neither. But that pig is turning into hot soup out there in the sun.”
“Okay.”
“Daniel?”
The barkeep shrugs.
“Fine.”
“Okay! Hey, it works. Great. See, Daniel , we can get through these issues and be unemotional about it. That's one issue off the docket right there. Next issue. Let's talk about the money.”
“Money, okay... “
“Oh, yes, we're going to talk about the money, but we have a list of things on the docket here that we've got to check off. And if we're gonna do it right, we're gonna do it right. And the next thing on the list is limes and how we slice them. Thick or thin?”
“Okay, let's talk about the limes, Pals. We'll keep emotion out of it. Reason will prevail.“
“Reason will prevail.”
“Okay, I think the limes should be cut a bit thinner.”
The same Squidspawn flares up again, rushing over to where the barkeep is seated.
“What the hell?! Thin limes?! People will choke! People will die!“
“Calm down. Ciara, Ciara, take emotion out of it.”
The barkeep speaks up.
“Ciara's got a point. One of the cornerstones of this tavern is thick limes.“
“Yeah, don't tell me...”
“I'm going to put my thumb through your eye, you little bitch!“
Pandemonium nearly erupts as everyone starts arguing loudly, only to be interrupted by the other human.
“No, no, no. Shh. Stay calm, stay... Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me, eh? Stay calm with me, okay? Be unemotional. Let's-Let's be democratic. Let's put this thing to a vote. “
“A vote?”
“A vote solves everything in a democracy, does it not?”
“Yes.”
“So, all for thinner limes, raise your hands. And all for thicker limes, raise your hands.
Everyone raises their hands to vote.
“Now, there you go. That's a democracy in action. That's two votes against two votes. A perfect example of when democracy has failed.”
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Post by Percyton on Jan 2, 2020 19:37:39 GMT -5
Southeast Passage King Godred
The Dual King of the Isles surveyed his surroundings. It had been smooth sailing since the expeditionary fleet met its Lexidun escort, and Godred could see all the new towns sprouting up along the Lexidun-built Southeast Passage. The King was glad to see his Lexidun friends expand, but the sight of these bustling towns made Godred homesick.
One afternoon, Duke came up to Godred as the monarch stood on the edge of the boat. “You seem down, Your Majesty,” the Dwarf Locomati said. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” Godred said glumly. “Thinking of home is all.” Godred spotted something on the shore. “Look there, Duke! You see that family?”
Duke scanned the coast, and saw a husband, wife, and their two young children by the wharf. One of them looked around seven and tugged on his mother’s dress, while the other was barely three and was being lifted by his father. Duke smiled. “Nice family,” he said plainly.
“Indeed,” Godred said with a nod. “Reminds me of my own family.”
Duke glanced at the monarch. “I don’t think you told me about your family actually.”
Godred smiled wistfully. “Oh, they’re delightful. I have my wife Helga, and my two boys Lagman and Harald. They’re always a joy, especially around Yearsend.”
Duke raised an eyebrow. “Yearsend? I’ve never heard of that.”
Godred let out a deep-toned laugh. “Then pull up a seat and let me tell you all about it! Where to begin…”
Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Dual Kingdom of the Isles One year ago
King Godred of the Dual Kingdom of the Isles sat on his throne. His day was filled with “thank you”s and other expressions of gratitude, as courtiers and commoners alike sought to express their well-wishes to the monarch on the eve of Yearsend. Though Godred much appreciated the adulation, he smiled so much at the people’s praises that he felt as if the muscles in his mouth were straining. Between this and the previous two weeks being filled with grand dinners with important dignitaries and officials, Godred couldn’t wait for the day to be over. He was glad when the flood of well-wishers turned into a trickle, until stopping entirely around dinner time. The King got up and turned to his Chancellor Cormac of Balladrine.
“Well, I think that’s enough for tonight,” Godred said as he stretched his arms. “If any other visitors arrive, please accept their well-wishes on my behalf. If you need me, I will be in the family quarters.”
“Of course, Your Majesty!” Cormac said with a nod. “Merry Yearsend!”
“Merry Yearsend, Cormac!” Godred waved goodbye and then left the room.
On the castle’s upper floors were the family rooms. As Godred entered the reception room, he was greeted by two surging young boys, one six years of age and the other four. “Daddy! Daddy!” they yelled. Godred kneeled with his arms open and grabbed his sons in an embrace.
“Easy there, boys,” Godred said gently. “I just got home.”
“Sorry, daddy,” the older one said. “But we were just so excited to see you!” The younger child nodded to confirm.
“Well, I can’t be upset by that,” Godred said as he withdrew from the hug. “Lagman, did you get all your chores done?”
The six-year-old pouted. “I got them done. But I still don’t see why I need to do chores when we have servants.”
“It’s to teach you responsibility, young man,” Godred said sternly, pointing a finger at his eldest child. “An important trait in a future king.” Godred turned to the other child. “What about you, Harald? Were you good to mommy today?” Harald nodded vigorously in response. Godred let out a hearty laugh. “That’s my boy!” The King got up and took his sons by the hand. “Come on, let’s see if your mother has something good cooking in the kitchen.” The three walked through the reception room and the dining room until entering the kitchen, where Queen Helga was overseeing two cooks preparing a meal.
Lagman inhaled and took a big whiff. “That smells great, mommy!” he said, a big smile on his face.
“I’m glad you like it,” Helga said sweetly. “It’s you and daddy’s favorite: roasted turkey. And some mixed vegetables on the side: You boys need your veggies if you want to grow up big and strong.” Lagman rolled his eyes, with Harald glancing at his brother and imitating him. “And,” Helga went on, “if you finish your veggies, you get to have dessert. Just how you like it: custard with honey and figs.”
Lagman let out a heavy sign. “Fine! I’ll eat my veggies.”
Helga grinned. “Thank you, Lagman. Now you and Harald wash up. Be quick! Dinner is almost ready.” With that, the two boys rushed out of the kitchen.
Godred approached his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You ready for the big day tomorrow, sweetie?”
“Of course,” the Queen said confidently. “The kids are going to be so excited for their presents.”
Godred chuckled. “Indeed. Myrson is going to be good to them this year.”
….
Godred and Helga were jolted awake the next morning with their bodies bouncing up and down in their bed, as they heard metal springs moving about. They opened their eyes and saw Lagman and Harald jumping on the royal couples’ bed.
“He came! He came!” Harald squawked.
“Myrson came guys!” Lagman cried. “He gave us so much stuff! You need to come look!”
“Ok, ok,” Godred said groggily, as he and his wife leaned up in bed. “Give us a few minutes to get dressed and we’ll be right down. Then we can open the presents.”
The King and Queen came down to the living room a few minutes later, their children practically jumping in their seats in excitement. Godred and Helga sat next to them on the couch. “Alright,” Godred said, “you two can open your presents now.”
“I get to go first!” Lagman shouted at his brother, pointing at himself. “I am the oldest, after all.”
“Nuh-uh!” Harald retorted. “Me first!”
“Me!”
“Me!”
“ME!”
“Settle down you two!” Godred interrupted, raising his voice ever so slightly. “Why don’t you just open your presents at the same time?” The two boys smiled and nodded, then went to work removing the brown wrapping paper and opening the boxes within. They grinned ear-to-ear as they saw the goodies left for them: toy soldiers, models of castles and forts, fine woven blankets, and mock-up suits of armor.
The two were just settling down when the King stood up. “There’s actually two more gifts,” he said grandly. “One for each of you. Myrson gave them to me and your mother for safe-keeping.” Godred clapped twice, and a servant standing nearby left the room. He came back a couple minutes later with two boxes. He set the bigger box down in front of Lagman, and the smaller one in front of Harald. “Go ahead, open them up.”
The boys eagerly ripped off the wrapping paper and took out the contents of the box. Lagman was the first to see his gift, revealing a small falchion sword with a gleaming silver blade and a brown leather handle. Godred took the weapon from his son. “Now I want you to be careful with this, Lagman,” Godred said sternly. “This is smaller than what a solider or even a peasant would use, but it’s still a real weapon. I’ve arranged for it to be put in a display case in your room so you’ll always remember it’s yours, but you won’t be able to use it until you’re older and you’ve been taught how to use it. Do you understand?”
Lagman nodded. “Ok, daddy. Just promise you’ll train me soon, okay?”
Godred laughed. “Of course, my boy. I promise.”
Then Godred turned to his other son. Harald pulled out a large piece of paper, which he unrolled to reveal an enormous star chart. “I noticed you always seemed to love the sea,” Godred said. “So now you can use the stars above to navigate like a real ship captain. In the new year I’ll take you to the harbor at Arlesburgh to try it out. Who knows? Maybe someday you’ll command a ship of your own, and you’ll have this trusty star chart to guide your way.” Tears welled up in Harald’s eyes, and he threw himself at Godred and wrapped him in a strong hug. Godred reciprocated, holding the boy tight. When he was finished, Godred stepped back and look at the assortment of gifts. Helga got up and stood next to him.
“Well,” the Queen said. “You boys got some nice presents from Myrson this year.”
“We sure did, mommy!” Lagman shouted. He jumped and raised his fist to the sky. “This was the best Yearsend ever!”
Southeast Passage Duke
Duke smiled. “That was a wonderful story, Godred,” he said. He leaned toward the King. “Although one question I have: Who is this Myrson guy you kept mentioning?”
Godred leaned back in his chair. “Ah yes, Myrson. According to folk legend among us Islanders, Myrson was the first human created by Myratnis. She doted on him, to the point of adopting him as her son and naming him ‘Myrson’. But being the son of a powerful goddess made Myrson haughty and rude. One day, he made a bet with a goblin over who could throw a heavy boulder the farthest. Myrson threw the boulder farther than anyone had ever seen, but the goblin still beat him by a large margin.”
“How’d he do that?”
“Because it turned out the goblin was actually Rigma in disguise.”
Duke raised an eyebrow. “Rigma? What’s he doing get involved with Myratnis’ son?”
“He thought Myrson was getting too cocky and needed to be punished. For both losing the bet and his poor behavior in general, Rigma cursed Myrson to wander Calveria, handing out candy to every child on every day of the year.”
Duke let out a small chuckle. “A little harsh, but that would be something Rigma would do.”
“Myratnis also thought it was harsh,” Godred went on, “but she agreed her son needed to be taught a lesson. So she reached a compromise with Rigma, where Myrson would still have to wander, but he would only give out candy and other presents on one day a year: Yearsend.”
Duke rubbed his chin. After a moment, he said: “Interesting story, Godred. Can’t say we have anything like it among the Dwarf Locomati. Most of our stories and traditions boil down to Rigma and his dominion over fire and war.”
Godred smiled. “Well, Myratnis does things a little differently.”
Before Duke could reply, the door to the cabin below opened, and a sailor leaned out. “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he called out to the King, “Captain Andross is here. He wants to speak with you for a moment.”
Godred got up. “Well, I must be off Duke. Until next time, take care!”
“See you around, Your Majesty,” Duke said, partly distracted by what Godred had said to him about Myratnis. With that, Godred left, leaving Duke with much to think about.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 1, 2020 16:21:45 GMT -5
Peter Mayhew, City of Pontath - Lexidus
"You're losing me here Gunter..." Peter droned, the bottom of his mug sloshing with what little remained of his ale, another long shift and hopefully another long night of drinking and winding down.
Gunter, the blue squidspawn and Peter's best friend sighed. They had made a habit of engaging in wider and more political musings with one another, the privately educated Gunter battling with the simplistic mindset of Peter's state education. Gunter Halbrecht took a swig of their drink and gestured wildly with their free hand.
"Civil War, Peter. I'm no seer but I can see the creases forming that will become tears in gods know how many years." They gurgled.
"How can you know what will happen in a hundred years though? Sure yeah this Zypnac cult has taken off a bunch but they're harmless! Plenty of Myratnis worshipping folk don't mind them and even the Mages haven't decreed anything against them."
"Yet." The squidspawn ominously stated, scanning the pub somewhat solemnly. "Western Lexidus is far more liberal than the East, you know? Your city chiefs are, somewhat, democratically elected. Squidspawn, Kobold and all of the new migrants from the new Dominions up North and new Titenfiscan protectorates wander the cities of the west. Whilst the east? De Sawney territory."
"HAH!" bellowed Peter, slapping his knee in amusement. "The De Sawney's are a bunch of inbred cry babies, just because they've got a history of marrying into the De Brus lineage doesn't mean they have a shred of influence. They're a joke!"
"A very well armed and spiteful joke..." Gunter gurgled.
"To say they're kept in line by the King would be an understatement, everyone keeps them in line! The chiefs especially! So fuck if they've got some knights in the middle of bumfuck nowhere in Bluxa, I'd like to see them try to take on the rest of Lexidus!"
Gunter felt lightheaded from sighing so much but they had to persist if they wanted to get the point across. "They've got their fingers in many pies across the east, what's to say their money doesn't buy them some chiefs there too? Maybe not now, maybe not for a while but with the young princess and her lineage... their existence will be threatened."
Peter's chuckling ceased and his face softened. "You mean Leanabh? The girl that can live forever?"
"Yes. Suddenly the De Sawney's have nothing to marry into. Their hereditary titles? Gone, if Blair doesn't have children... its just her and the rebooted Lexidus lineage."
Peter leaned back with a puzzled look. "I mean they still married into the De Brus lineage and ultimately they are her... decedents?"
Gunter shook their head. "It doesn't matter, sure they can attest that they have a claim but its far FAR weaker than it was before. Less claim, less prestige, less power."
Peter's face became troubled, Gunter continued.
"They need to survive, so what should they do? Capitalise on the increasing conservatism of the east and establish fetid roots there... can you see where I'm coming from?"
"...aye..." the ginger giant mused quietly.
"Unless Blair and eventually Leanabh do something about them... their ilk years from now will cause issue. They need to be taken care of as you would weeds in a garden." Gunter continued one solemnly, their ice blue eyes staring at Peter unblinkingly.
"A Titenfiscan advocating revolution... never..." Peter chuckled trying to lift the ominous mood that had descended between the two. Gunter let out yet another sigh and finished his drink.
"A Dual Titenfiscan-Lexidun citizen to you Mr Mayhew. If I was truly talking about revolution I would have begun with the most delectable parts of a human to eat!"
"Eeeaughh! Don't even joke about that!"
Both of the friends burst into laughter and clinked their drinks together before continuing their philosophising into the night. Peter's drunk mind eventually losing focus when Gunter surmised further civil disorder when republicanism would arise in Lexidus centuries later. Gods. Imagine that. A four sided civil war. Ridiculous.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Mar 2, 2020 3:07:35 GMT -5
Five Rivers Governorate, Kyras
He awoke from his sleep inside the cave, bleary eyes blinking as the grey light of dawn filled his vision. Yawning, he stretched, limbs cracking as they were able to move for the first time in hours, his head craning up a bit from the damp wheat that served as cushioning. The air was draped in mist, the grass outside his home already coated in a fine layer of dew. Stepping out, he looked around, taking in the sights of the forests and rivers that gave this land its name. Looking back into the cave, he saw the plates of armor and weapons jumbled in a pile near what he called his bed.
'No need for them today, the raid today is likely that farm near the northern river: the scouts did say it was barely defended, just a small family living there,' he thought, ready to make the long trek there: swimming would take too long and leave him exposed to the farmers, while the fields south had already been cleared of the trees that could've served as cover. 'Swoop to the north, then hit them hard: the farmers aren't likely to expect a raid at the start of the day, they'd expect us to attack at nighttime.'
Giving one last stretch to his powerful limbs, the bandit moved forward, the mental map telling him to cut through the tributary south of the farm, then to move northwest into the thick brush, and from there a simple means to rush in and take out the family.
The guard patrol was a spanner to the plan.
He had already cut through the tributary and was walking the less-beaten paths to avoid being seen by the peasants walking up and down the road, likely to get to the larger towns. The bandit and his kin had all vowed to never attack the towns: the Army had too many men, and, as the bandit recalled, the one to the north had Republican Guardsmen watching the area. That wasn't to say the roads were easier to hit: Phylakes patrolled the roads, making sure the peasants could pay their travel taxes to help furbish the roads and aqueducts better, and the bandit knew each Phylakitai was no slouch in combat, they had to be sharp in order to fulfill their law enforcement duties.
That said, the moving patrol had come from the northeast, some carrying crossbows: from the looks of it, they were standard Army soldiers, likely conscripts or enlisted personnel from another one of the states. The bandit pressed against a tree, hard to do given his immense bulk. Somehow, he managed to make it work, and he watched as the patrol moved further down the road, closer to him - it was a squad, about six soldiers and one officer, judging from the small metal bar pinned to his left shoulder.
"So, how did we get stuck doing bandit patrol: is the Governor not aware half of us aren't even done with our classwork," one of the younger soldiers complained, holding a spear in his hands.
"That's not our place to complain, Private," the officer said, crossbow slung over his shoulder, looking down at the map detailing the major roads. 'Looks like an officer from another state,' the bandit noted, peeking his head out from behind the tree just a little bit.
"Still, you figured they could have just sent another squad, like the ones from Taravo, from what I heard, they saw some action setting up the borders for the Governorate," the private said, only to turn his head over to the treeline, "Sir, I think someone's watching us."
The squad immediately stopped as the officer raised a clenched fist, "Tell me where."
"20 meters ahead, behind the oak tree."
"Tersson, Rhys, get your crossbows out. Leyshon, get a grenade out and be ready to throw. Everyone else, fan out."
'Shit, now or never,' the bandit cursed, suddenly charging forth: the one called Tersson, a shorter man with a scraggly beard, barely managed to load a bolt into the till when he fell, the bandit slashing his throat. Spinning around, the bandit knocked Leyshon, a younger-looking man with blond hair, off his feet before going for his stomach, the grenadier screaming in agony as he felt his intestines getting ripped out. A flash of red-hot pain coursed through the bandit's body, looking to see a bolt lodged in his right shoulder. 'Don't take it out, that's a death sentence waiting to happen,' the bandit thought, instead snarling as he saw the officer and Rhys both loading their crossbows, taking aim once more.
The wall of flame reached them instead, both men falling down screaming as they rolled on the ground, trying to put the flames out: the bandit instead grabbed their heads and slammed them down into the earth, their skulls shattering in a spray of gore and grey matter. The fifth soldier, a tall man almost reaching the bandit's eye level, charged forward, spear pressed above his shield as he roared. The bandit grabbed the spear, yanking the soldier forward before he could react, and delivered a blow to the head, the man's neck snapping instantly.
As the soldier's body crumpled down, the bandit turned to look at the survivor, the private, who now looked on in complete shock. The bandit moved forward, the private unable to move as he saw the beast that killed his squad bear down on him, eyes lit up with primeval bloodlust. "Sweet Mother, please do not let me die out here," the private could only whimper, the bandit bemused as he stood right in front of him, bearing a full foot above him.
'This was easier than I thought,' the bandit thought, preparing to strike when he suddenly felt the ground violently shake, a massive weight placed right behind him. The private snapped out of his fear and screamed, loudly, before running away as fast as possible. For the first time in a while, the bandit now felt afraid: whatever it was, it was big, and it was angry.
Turning around, he saw the massive bulk of black scales, giant wings having snapped the trees along the road from how wide of a span it was. Sharp talons sunk into the earth from the back feet, brutal-looking tools that could easily carry livestock in the air. Yellow eyes, viperine and filled with both animalistic hunger and intelligent thought, stared down at him, the maw filled with razor-sharp fangs, the massive head craned over him decked with a crown of horns. A long tail whipped behind them both, snapping the trees easily.
'Oh fuck, a damn Tyrant,' the bandit could only think before the massive dragon roared at him, its tail swinging forth and slamming him against a tree, the bandit crying out in pain as he felt something break. He only had a few seconds to stand before the dragon charged at him, its massive size hiding its quick speed, the jaws snapping right where the bandit was as he ducked to the right, trying to run up the hill, recognizing the mortal danger he was in. He didn't bother to look as the dragon smashed through the trees, roaring as it continued to try and snap him up, almost coming close to ripping one of his legs off. As he reached the top of the hill, the bandit now chose to look, only to see the broken path of trees. At that moment however, he felt a massive gust of wind as something flew by him, only for the dragon's tail to smash into his face, obliterating his lower jaw. He screamed in agony, almost falling over as he snapped his head up to the sky, seeing the gigantic bulk of the dragon soaring in the sky, blotting out the sun as it glared at him.
His legs were in overdrive now, desperation filling him as he ran across the field, survival the only thing in his mind as he saw the shadow cover the ground in front of him. Talons suddenly dug into his torso, another scream wrenched from him as the tight grip of the dragon's toes crushed his ribs, organs rupturing inside of him. The pain was overwhelming, grey waves of nausea, blood loss, and internal fluids coursing through him as he felt the dragon drop him down onto the ground, ribs cracking once more, but now he was too tired to scream.
As he looked up for the last time, the sun blotted out as the jaws of the dragon filled his vision, the bandit could only plead in his head for a quick death.
"The quare ones up in Varan, they really think they're great, only for the farmers they'd have near an egg to eat. Ġwann Dougall, now the president, I like to wish you luck, the other quare ones up in Varan, they really don't give a f-," the farmer sang, his scythe cutting through the threshes as his two kids played with their dog at the dirt patch near the house, his wife putting the clothes out to dry. Right as he was to reach that specific word, however, he saw the black shadow cover the field, the flapping of wings causing everyone to stop.
"Bert?" His wife asked fearfully, the children and dog immediately running to her, drawing them into a hug as the dragon neared them.
"Nessie, get Abram and Lora into the house, and bring Agnese with them too: I don't want her out here while our guest brings us news," Bertu said, taking his hat off as he began to walk towards the giant clearing where the dragon liked to land on occasion.
Nessie could only nod, opening the door to usher the kids and their dog in, shutting it and peering out from the window as the dragon finally landed, Bertu nearly pushed down to the ground from the gust of wind as the dragon tucked its wings in.
"Afternoon, Venerable One," Bertu said, looking up at the beast as it stared down at him, its reptilian eyes seeming a lot calmer and peaceful to its charge, "I assume you brought an end to the bandit around these parts?"
The dragon dropped the corpse from its mouth, the Kyran Dragon a bloodied mess, jaw shattered, one of its back spines crushed, large marks along its torso from the Tyrant's back claws and fangs, and the smell of death coming from it. If he were anybody but a farmer or a soldier, Bertu would've vomited from the stench and the pool of blood emanating from it, but instead he nodded, "My thanks, Venerable One: my apologies that I do not have a sacrifice ready like the priests do, but the people over in Skarure will be most pleased when I tell them of your work: these dragons have been a pain to us, and we lost many fellow men of the earth trying to keep them at bay. I know the Jacono ranchers will be more than willing to give you some of their sow and bulls in thanks, and I have some extra grain stored up from the last sale: the rest of the town will likely give you similar rewards, but it will take a while."
The dragon simply gave a pleased snort, Bertu giving a humored chuckled as he rubbed a hand down the dragon's wing, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have to take this to Skarure by wagon: it should probably take me a day to get it there and another half-day to make it back with some of your rewards. I ask that you keep watch over my family in the meantime, Venerable One: you can stay here and get some rest, plus I know the river has some Scute Dragons to take." The dragon nodded, Bertu giving it a wave of the hat as he walked to get his wagon and horses ready, 'For you and your family, noble Bertu, a thousand times over,' the dragon thought as it curled up, keeping an eye on the house and its charges.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Mar 2, 2020 4:54:01 GMT -5
Honotayonih, Laxenius Presidency, Kyras
"That will be the end of classes for this week: I ask that all of you stay out of trouble and study for your exams in two weeks time. Remember, practice helps to recall these spells and potions," the instructor said, Mikiel Montanaro closing his small journal and sliding out from his seat, the class of 50 stepping out from the amphitheater where he had his "Course for Initiate Spirit-Callers," the more polite term for young magicians such as himself.
'Somehow, I get the feeling calling the class "Course for Initiate Warlocks" would get you dunked into the Kreigsfalden,' he thought as he climbed the steps, looking out over the harbor town that was Honotayonih, the traditional and now official capital for the Laxenius Presidency. The smell of freshwater and the spray of sea mist tickled against him and he breathed it in, sighing as he walked down the steps, going past the merchants that placed themselves along the beaten path leading to the amphitheater. As one merchant screamed for passersby to look at his "genuine" collection of Nikam rugs, which looked more like someone had hashed together something from war reports in the city library, Mikiel walked over to an older merchant, who stirred a vase filled with liquid, perking up as she saw him approach, "Ah, Miki, I'm guessing you just got out of class?"
"Yep," Mikiel nodded, a smile on his face as he looked over the merchant's wares while pulling out a scroll that he had filled during the lecture, "I was wondering if you have some Saberjaw fangs and Laughing Man ichor, along with some Bitter Root essence?"
"Just your luck, I recently had a shipment come in from Ka'atcal for Bitter Root, and some hunters from Nofsinhar came in to sell a bunch of trophies from their trip to the Underground, just give me a second," the merchant said, getting off her stool as she dug around, pulling out a box filled with cleaned fangs, vials of liquids, and several Bitter Roots, "Don't know how much of each you'll need, so just pick them out and I'll name the price from there."
"Got it," Mikiel said as he dug into the box, pulling out two fangs, three jars of ichor, having been labeled, and a Bitter Root, "Looks like I'll just be needing this, oh," he paused, pulling out a Kyran Dragon fang, "And this too: the professor said to make a charm as a form of good luck."
"Ahh, that's a fresh one too," the merchant said, noticing the fang, "A Wemo hunter got that from a Dragon he killed while heading to Tramutana, said it came from an older bull: they said that's a real good charm for dealing with bad omens." Pulling out a scroll, she looked over the prices she had set for the month, "That'll be 27 Tarì."
"Wow, that's a lot cheaper than I was expecting," Mikiel admitted, opening his coin pouch and pulling out the Tarì, placing them onto the merchant's table.
"You know I always give my favorite customers discounts," the merchant said playfully, handing the items over in a small bag, Mikiel grabbing them and looping it onto his belt, "Tell your mother I said hello and that I'm free on the 28th Cycle for a talk over at Leli's, it's been a while."
"I will, Zija," (Aunt), Mikiel called out, giving her a wave as he walked down to the docks for a drink before returning home. As he got to the docks, he turned left and saw several of his friends already at Saver's, one of the pubs that were set up for business along the dock. Walking over, he patted the shoulder of the closest one, Xandru, who turned around.
"Goddamn, finally took you long enough, Mik: we already had our orders taken," Xandru said, getting off the stool and bringing Mikiel into an embrace, Mikiel chuckling.
"Had to buy some things from Zija's stand for the exams next week: we're trying to do some vapor spells for healing."
"You know, those courses are just there to take your money," Xandru said, taking a swig of ale as he sat back down, spinning the seat around so he could look at the ships.
"Yeah, yeah: Omm's riding on my ass to take the courses so I can avoid Army service, though I wouldn't mind doing a Navy tour," Mikiel said as he took an empty seat, sitting in-between Xandru and Kekkin, Xandru's twin sister, "Hey Kek, Xandru's not too hard on you for money, is he?"
"Nah, he knows Papà would kick his ass if he had to borrow money from his sweet little girl," Kekkin said, giving Mikiel a hug, "Anyways, how's your mom doing?"
"She's doing well: Papà sent her another letter from Tarxien, said it'll take him another week until they can get him on a boat - apparently some of the Verush started hitting the boats, probably to get away from Army liquidation."
"Shit, hope he makes it out alright," Kekkin said as she sipped her mug of ale, Mikiel simply chuckling.
"He'll live: the old man's stubborn like that," Mikiel said, flagging a barmaid over, "You have any river beers available?"
"Just your luck: the brewers came back from Lvant with some small jars - fermented emmer with dates, pomegranates, figs, and some rose petals for flavor," the barmaid said, setting a tray down so the customers at the table next to her could get their mugs.
"You got them in jars?" Mikiel said, opening his coin pouch.
"Small ones, but I'd say they're around 30 ounces: perfect to take home if you like."
"I'll take six jars, if that's possible."
"That'll be 45 Tarì," the barmaid said, writing down the order on a small sheet of paper on the tray.
"Here you go," Mikiel handed the coins over, the barmaid putting them in her pouch and walking off to the back of the pub, coming back about two minutes later with a small box of jars, placing them on the counter before putting several straws into the box, "The beer's been decanted, but I'd say use the straws just in case, plus it won't be as much of a spill."
"Thanks," Mikiel said as he pulled the box over and placed it at his feet, pulling one jar out of the box along with a straw, feeling the drops of water come off of it, 'Looks like they were storing it in a tub, probably to make it cooler,' he thought as he popped the lid off and placed the straw in before taking a long sip, eventually leaning back onto the counter.
"Best 45 Tarì I've ever spent," he said, noticing Xandru and Kekkin looking at him, "You two want to try: I got enough straws to share and I'm taking the rest home."
"Fuck it, I'll try," Xandru shrugged, pulling a straw from the box and taking a sip before pulling back, "Damn, that's actually pretty good."
"Probably the pomegranate and figs," Kekkin said, taking a sip as well, "Wow, the brewers know how to make some good beer."
"I'll have to remember to buy it more often," Mikiel said, "Plus, it's pretty cheap, considering most beers here are about 10 Tarì per jar or mug."
The trio sat at the counter for about another hour, making small talk as they watched the sun dip further down the horizon, though still enough for them to make it back home before the lanterns were lit. The three agreed to meet at the boardhouse at the center of town the next day, then down to the river to swim and finally to head on down to Leli's for some coffee. As he walked back home, Mikiel stopped at a merchant's shop to buy dinner, electing to purchase some Scute Dragon and blood pudding dumplings (the latter looked unappealing, but after the merchant let him try one for free and liking the taste, he decided to buy some).
Finally, he came back to his house, the front lantern already lit and the family's two Burrow Dogs waiting on the steps for him, tails wagging as they chirped, him leaning down to scratch their chins, the two purring, "Hey Karistu, Mari, I'm home. Why don't we head inside, I still have some tubers from yesterday if you want them." The duo's excited chirping caused him to chuckle as he opened the door, letting both of them in. Inside, his mother, Anna, was waiting for him, looking over a small scroll, likely the day's news. "Hi Omm, I brought dinner."
"Took you long enough," Anna said, getting up and giving him a hug, which he returned after he had put the boxes down onto the table, "Class went well?"
"Exams are in two weeks, the professor wants us to practice our spells before we do them," Mikiel said as he undid his belt, placing it on the table as he pulled two jars of beer out, along with a pair of straws, "I saw Zija today to get my ingredients, she said hello and that she's free on the 28th, she wants you to come to Leli's to catch up."
"It's been a while since we've talked, Mother bless her," Anna said, writing it down on a scroll near the doorway, "I won't be working that day, so I'll catch up with her: I'm guessing you went to Saver's, judging from those beers?"
"Yep: Xandru and Kekkin were waiting for me, we agreed to meet there - I'll be out tomorrow to do some things with them, I'll probably be back by evening. If you want, I can get you something from Leli's: we're stopping there last."
"Just some pastries, it doesn't matter. Promise me you'll be back before the moon's out, and that you take your knife with you."
"I will, Omm," Mikiel said, going up to his room to get his knife, coming back down and unsheathing it so Anna could tell it was sharpened, "I still don't see why I need to take it with me: the Phylakes are all over the place and there's barely been any crime."
"I just want you to stay safe, Miki," Anna said, looking at the box of dumplings, "Besides, if it's those two, I'm guessing they want to go to the river."
"They do," Mikiel admitted, "It's not like I'll be doing something with Kekkin: those two play for the same team, you know."
"Not really," Anna snarked, "Besides, you know that those two basically look up to you as a brother."
"Makes sense, they're a year younger and just now taking advanced courses," Mikiel said, getting the tubers out and calling over Karistu and Mari, the two gnawing on the tubers as he placed them in a bowl, along with some strawberries, "Anyways, I bought some Scute Dragon dumplings, plus some made with blood sausage: they look ugly as the Necrominus, but they taste pretty good."
"I'll trust you on that," Anna said, pulling her seat back, "Also, Rożarja's coming back on the 30th, so make sure her room's set up."
"I know not to piss Sis off like that," Mikiel said, surprised that his big sister was coming back home from Kep'l Merta.
"She has your father's temper: now come on, it's time to eat."
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 18, 2020 3:57:28 GMT -5
Honotayonih, Laxenius Presidency, Kyras
"So, Rożarja, how have things been over in the Peniżolari?" Anna asked, placing a small cup and saucer down in front of her daughter, the two keeping the windows open as they lounged in the living room.
"It's been alright, though I prefer to be closer to Varan rather than to Baħar Ċentrali," Rożarja said, taking a sip from the cup, "I swear, the people there live a century in the past, they all refuse to accept government aid and insist on doing everything to their standards."
"Sounds rough, though I can't say that it's any better here: they keep drafting people from Miki's classes to 'do their duty' and transfer them to governorates and presidencies all over the place - you remember Ċensu, the Quintano's boy?"
"I do, he's about three years younger than Miki: wasn't he planning on becoming the city librarian?" Rożarja asked.
"He was, but then the news came that he was being drafted: Rose, they sent him all the way to Pjanuri Federali to do some fortification building near the border."
"Seriously?" Rożarja asked, shocked, "I could understand making him do the draft at some point, but shipping him all that way down south?"
"There's been word that another draft's being implemented, this time for Miki's Initiate class," Anna said, looking out the window towards the Amphitheater.
"Gods, let's just hope they don't pick him, especially with Papà finally getting on a boat," Rożarja said, taking another sip, "Also, where'd you get this tea?"
"Miki found it during one of his trips with the Sciberras kids," Anna said, pouring more tea into her cup, "Said it was a special blend of honey, lemon, and sweetroot."
"Xandru and Kekkin, right?" Rożarja asked, remembering the two from a previous visit several years ago, "He's not messing around with them, right?"
"I don't think so: he mentioned both of them were gay, plus whenever he invited them over, they usually just read stories here in the living room."
"That's what I'm hoping: the last thing I need is for him to get involved in a crossbow wedding."
"Miki's smart enough not to do that, Rose," Anna remarked, "Besides, he probably knows you'll skin him before he gives you a niece or nephew."
"The last thing I need is a child calling me 'Aunty Rosie'," Rożarja shuddered, taking another sip from the teacup.
Before they could continue, they heard Mikiel call out from the front, "Omm, Sis, open the door, now!"
"Miki?" Anna said, poking her head out the window, "What's going on?"
"Omm, please, open the door, we found somebody by the river, he's in bad shape!" Mikiel frantically called out, Xandru and Kekkin right behind him, each having a man's arm slumped over their shoulders.
"Rose, get the door," Anna ordered, Rożarja unlatching the door, the trio barging in, dragging in a slumped-over man.
"We need the table cleared!" Mikiel shouted, both women immediately sliding the decorations off, Xandru and Kekkin dragging the man over and setting him down.
"Sweet Mother," Anna said, a horrified look covering her face as she saw the extent of the man's injuries: the aketon he wore was covered in large holes, somewhat reminding Anna of moth-eaten clothes during the spring. Underneath, she could see exposed flesh and muscle, the few bits of intact skin an angry red. His weapons were still sheathed, but they were only stumps, the singe marks looking as if acid had eaten through the metal.
"Omm, do we have any ointments, bandages, anything?!" Mikiel said, having already begun digging through the closets.
"There's an ointment kit in the upstairs closet, next to my room," Anna said, still frozen as she saw the man writhe and groan.
"Xandru, get the kit: Kekkin, get my spare knife, it's under my bed," Mikiel said, "Sis, I have a potions kit in one of the kitchen shelves, can you get it for me: it has a red star on it."
"On it," Rożarja said, walking towards the kitchen.
"Miki, what the hell happened to this man?" Anna asked, now starting to move as Mikiel began undoing the man's belt sliding it off as Kekkin came back down, knife in hand.
"I don't know, but we were down by the river when we saw him."
30 minutes earlier
"Finally, look's like we found a spot," Xandru said as the trio walked down the trail, having found a more secluded spot along the riverside.
"We could've been here earlier if you hadn't gotten in an argument with that father," Kekkin snarked, pulling up a box filled with their belongings.
"Hey, it's not my fault that his kids were blocking the trail!" Xandru shot back.
"It kinda is, Xandru," Mikiel remarked, lugging over a trio of sitting boxes, along with a cloth bundle for shade, "You really oughta fix that temper of yours, man: you know you're not gonna find that special somebody if you keep being an asshole to everyone."
"Hey, you know my special guy isn't gonna be from here, Miki," Xandru remarked.
"Oh, sure, sure," Mikiel said, "You're gonna find that one man, well-sculpted, full beard, coming in from Talas or tas-Sajd, a real mountain man."
"Hey, it's better than your dream girl from Varan: a tall brunette with legs to die for, and someone willing to jump on a real magician."
"You know it," Mikiel chuckled, "Still probably gonna find her before your dream husband."
"Man, you guys are really trying to beat each other in a dating game?" Kekkin snarked.
"You know you don't have to rub it in, Kek," Xandru complained, "We get it, you're dating Lora, God, you don't have to keep reminding me of it."
"Not my fault you took the bet seriously," Kekkin countered, "In the end, I managed to snag a girlfriend and 100 Tarì."
"Yeah, I still don't know why you placed a 100 Tarì bet on getting a date, Xandru," Mikiel said, tying up the last corner of the cloth tarp to the tree branch, giving them some shade.
"I thought Oskar would be interested," Xandru said, tossing a stone over the water, "Whatever, I can still find a guy before I turn 20."
"Anyways, we gonna swim or what?" Mikiel said, taking off his shirt as he eyed the ledge a little bit away from their camp.
"Somebody, help me!" The voice called out from the north, the trio looking down the trail and seeing him.
The man was wearing an Honor Guard aketon, though it was barely recognizable, strips of cloth hanging off his torso. Red flesh poked out, the skin flayed off as they could see the muscles moving. His weapons were melted down, and one of his arms hung limply, the flesh also sticking out: limping over, he saw the trio looking at him.
"Please, help me," the man begged, falling over.
"Shit!" Mikiel said, "Xandru, Kekkin, get his arms, we gotta get to my place, he's not gonna last long!"
"He's barely holding on," Mikiel said, "It looked like he came from one of the tunnels, probably from the Scar ta 'Atania."
"That's impossible," Rożarja said, "There's no way somebody in this condition could walk over 15 miles and make it without passing out."
"They came so fast," the man whispered, the group turning to face him, his lips barely moving, blood still coating them.
"Hold on, can you tell me your name?" Rożarja said, pulling out a scroll and pen.
"Xuereb, Lance Sergeant Haider Xuereb," the soldier groaned, "5th Vosten Honor Guard, we were deployed here to provide protection for the Roaming Merchant post around here, we had orders to clear the Scar of hostile wildlife."
"Okay, Sergeant Xuereb, can you tell me what exactly happened," Rożarja asked, Mikiel brewing up a healing potion as Xuereb continued.
"We had cleared out the usual pests, Flesh Rats and some Needlejaws, but the locals said there was something that had been attacking their livestock for some time, something bigger than the bugs. We didn't have to look far to find some culprits: Megopterans."
The group looked up at one another: they had heard rumors of the beasts, giant insects that resembled ants, except with wings, a long neck, and a thorax that laid eggs into hosts. To hear them being at the Scar was concerning, few creatures could compete against the Megopterans.
"We just had to have been lucky enough to find a colony of the bastards rather than one or two of them: we had some mages, and they were smart enough to set the cavern on fire while getting us out of the blast range. We fought hard and lost some men, but the Megopterans had us surrounded."
"You survived them, didn't you," Rożarja asked, Xuereb instead chuckling grimly.
"It wasn't them that maimed me like this, the fuckers fled once the real threat showed up."
"Was it Laughing Men?"
"No, but I wished it was," Xuereb said, Mikiel interjecting by handing over the healing potion.
"Sorry to interrupt: take slow sips, let it flow into your system. It's not much, but it'll reduce the areas most damaged by a little bit."
"Thank you," Xuereb said, "Anyways, whatever attacked us was nothing that anyone had ever seen before: it looked like a Host at first, about 7 feet tall and its frame was large. Once we saw it more closely, we realized it was something so much more alien: we couldn't see a face, nor any extremities like fingers and toes. It was completely white and it looked like foam, with most of it towards the top. We saw it stumbling towards us and we started noticing the Megopterans were backing away from our position, wings flared and all of them clicking.
"Before we knew it, they all fled and the creature kept stumbling towards us, very slowly." Xuereb paused, eyes closing shut, as if recalling a memory deep within, "That's when it started chanting."
"Chanting?" Rożarja asked, "This creature spoke to you?"
"It didn't speak, but chanting's the best I can describe it: it started vocalizing, like when the anashid are first issued in the morning, but it sounded nothing like a normal person. When it did that, we didn't know what to do, but I could tell we were all filled with dread. That was what the creature wanted."
"What happened afterwards?"
"It moved, faster than something of its bulk would suggest: it went for the closest man and enveloped him, the foam wrapping around him as it began dissolving anything in its touch - he went screaming.
"We tried everything to kill it, but nothing worked: sword and ax melted against its skin, bolts just went through it, and fire only hindered it a little, but the chunks that fell off it as it burned left an acrid odor, one worse than death itself. It kept moving forward, pulling men in, consuming them, the screaming just melded as the chanting continued. It eventually tried to grab me, but I snapped out of my paralysis by them. It brushed its arm against me and the creature burned through my aketon, began to burn my flesh. I had a grenade on me and I primed it, tossing it away from me: it must've been attracted to the movement and left me to chase after the grenade, long enough for me to run."
"Gods," Rożarja whispered, Xuereb collapsing against the table as he finished his tale, "Do you remember where the creature was relative to the Scar?"
"About a quarter of a mile from the entrance: there was another unit that went in after us, so they're either trying to kill it themselves or it has killed them as well," Xuereb said, eyes glazed with the hint of madness, "I need to find a Phylake or Army unit stationed here, is there one?"
"Honotayonih has a Phylakitai command in the northern district," Anna said, "Rożarja and I know the location, we can take you there, plus they might be able to help heal you further."
"Thank you," Xuereb said, "May I ask, what is your family name?"
"Montanaro: Rożarja, Mikiel, and Anna, plus my husband, Natan. The twins that pulled you here, Xandru and Kekkin, they're from the Sciberras family," Anna said, opening the door and flagging a wagon down, "We need your help: we have an Honor Guardsman, he's heavily injured and he needs to deliver urgent news to the Phylakitai."
"I'll keep that in mind," Xuereb said, "My family will be more than happy to give you something in return for saving my life."
"We can talk about that later," Anna said, pulling him onto the cart, the wagon driver whipping the reins as Anna and Rożarja jumped onto the back, "Miki, keep the twins here, Zija will come by in a few hours to deliver some supplies."
"Understood," Mikiel said, the wagon finally moving for the north.
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Post by Chiernarosa on Dec 31, 2020 5:16:01 GMT -5
Honotayonih, Laxenius Presidency, Kyras"Well, looks like Saver's is still booming as usual," Natan Montanaro remarked, the rest of his family and the Sciberras twins noting as well as they walked past the usual hangout, the barmaids moving to fill orders and customers mingling.
"The summer haul's been a major boon, and the Declaration of the Presidency's been drawing in refugees, particularly those from Velran and Ronan," Anna added, glancing to one of the moored ships at the docks, several Western Kyrans unloading supplies gathered on the deck.
"Poor fools have been taking whatever opportunities they can get," Rożarja said, having helped a number of refugees from the latter after the battle there, particularly those who were unfortunate enough to have been in the way of Atek's forces.
"I heard that some settlements were doing well in the northern-most provinces, but there wasn't much said on where the majority of the people were going," Mikiel noted, moving to help a man who tripped, the latter giving thanks as he reached for a scroll that fell out of his grasp, "Then again, losing two Kástra would be a major event."
"Let's just be glad that the madness is mostly past us," Natan concluded, pushing away the thoughts he had in his head, namely what Anna had told him of the drafts and troop movements from Laxenius to other regions: each day, it seemed that more people were being selected to do work in the southern states or, God forbid, transfer duties to Quijain. Quijain had been on the minds of everyone: the declaration of the Conquest had floored everyone, and the push to establish what was now called the Iron Corridor required as many hands as possible. Entire regiments had been summoned and sent to the steppes, but word coming back was that something was on the horizon, something massive.
"As long as we don't get another ax-fall," Xandru piped up, the group nodding, having recalled the earthquake from over a month ago, along with the surge in magic that occurred.
"So, does anybody remember why exactly Xuereb called on us to go to the city outskirts?" Kekkin asked, more confused than anything else.
"Honestly? I haven't a clue," Mikiel noted, looking up at the afternoon sky, "Could be to give us money, could be to shaft us over."
"I don't think he'd be that rude, Miki," Rożarja countered, "The Xuerebs are an influential family, it'd be out of character to act rude towards those who saved one of their own, plus it would be a stain on their standing."
"You say that, Rose, but I've seen my share of families that are nothing but dens of serpents," Natan replied, "Like the Callus Guild, those bastards charge high prices for poor equipment, nearly had my chest torn open the one time I wore their armor because the damned thing was nothing more than a brittle vest."
"I still don't think they mean us any harm," Rożarja said, now noticing the outskirts of the city, where the Xuereb Manor laid.
"So is this the place?" Xandru asked, looking at the large building that served as the Manor's gate, the sky well drawing their attention to a garden.
"Has to be, might as well let ourselves in," Natan remarked, walking up to the two guards positioned at the front, "Hello? Is Haider Xuereb here? We have business with him?"
"Montanaro? Sciberras?" The guard on the left asked, taking a simple glance at them.
"Both," Mikiel spoke up, taking a step forward along with the twins, "We're the ones who found Lance Sergeant Xuereb."
The guards looked at each other before nodding, stepping to the side to let the group past, "You may enter: Sir Haider is in the garden directly ahead, he's been waiting."
"Thank you," Natan nodded, the guards returning it with a curt nod of their own before going back to position, the group walking forward and seeing the garden, a collection of fruit trees and flowers collected neatly into a series of islands running down the courtyard, several benches placed along the islands, Haider Xuereb sitting on one of them and watching what looked like a Quijaini band dressed in traditional garb, playing several instruments.
"Sergeant Xuereb?" Rożarja ventured carefully, Xuereb's attention taken away from the band as he saw the group approach, a smile on his face as he gestured for the band to continue playing.
"Madame Rożarja, a pleasure to see you and your family, along with the Sciberras," Xuereb remarked, getting up to greet them, hand outstretched to shake, Rożarja returning the gesture, before Xuereb noticed Natan, "I believe you are Natan Montanaro, no?"
"Indeed I am," Natan said, shaking Xuereb's hand, "I just got back about two days ago, I heard my son helped to rescue you?"
"He did," Xuereb said, noticing Mikiel and offering his hand, "Your son and the Sciberras were a life-saver: the doctors told me that, had they not been there, I would have likely perished from the wounds I took at the Scar ta 'Atania."
"You walked for 15 miles?" Natan asked, eyebrow shooting up in surprise.
"I did: whatever attacked me, they said that it had some property in it that hampered my perception, plus the route I took was far from most villages that were in the area. Even then, most of the villages had been evacuated before they sent us down there, so Honotayonih was the only place I could retreat to."
"God must have willed you to live," Natan remarked, giving the man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, Xuereb nodding.
"Indeed, and he must have willed that your son would be my savior, the same to the Sciberras, and to your wife and daughter as well, especially since they were able to get me to my superiors before that monster could leave the Scar.
"And now we come to why I have asked for all of you to come here," Xuereb noted, pulling up a chest next to the bench, the group looking at one another as he opened it, only to see several sheets of paper.
"I assume that all of you know about the influence my family has in this region: we are a simple family, one dedicated to both horticulture and viticulture, but we have long been allies with families in Varan and beyond. It has been a testament that we call Honotayonih our residence and Laxenius our homeland, but our affairs have been stretched, so to speak, and we find a number of our ventures in the city lacking in figures to manage them.
"If you so desire, I wish to bequeath upon both families our titles and deeds within the city: we already have men working to ensure they do well, but we lack overseers to properly get things moving. These titles and agreements grant immunity from the drafts, and provide a source of income from other states, particularly our fellow states in the Kreigsfalden: they have been in need of our crop for a while now, so this will help speed things along."
"So we're effectively becoming middlemen in your guild?" Anna inquired, looking over the documents.
"In a sense: another is that these documents afford your families protection under the law - if you are ever in trouble, we will assist you, for you have helped me immensely. I wish to repay that kindness, and if that kindness entails providing you with what my family has under our belt, I am more than happy to provide."
"This is tempting," Natan noted, "But I still feel this might be a bit too much for the both of us."
"I understand," Xuereb nodded, "I ask that you think it over: either way, I want to repay all of you for saving my life. Perhaps we can talk this over lunch? I'm certain you must be peckish at the very least."
"We don't mean to intrude," Rożarja said, Xuereb shaking his head.
"Nonsense: please, let me provide lunch for everyone, and I can have the band here play songs for us while we eat, they've been dying to play their new songs to an audience."
"Well, if you're offering," Natan said, the group nodding, Xuereb clapping his hands once in pleasure.
"Excellent: lads, please play our guests your most recent work."
The band nodded, lifting their instruments up as Xuereb prepared a table for lunch, the families ready to continue their talks.
Altay baatır biçikte Argımak attar tınıcı Alıp baatır kojonı Altay kalık iydezi
Eki kıldu toopşurım Erik pesten oynozın O’skus uul baatırı Andan kyştap ol barzın
Kaan Altaydın içinde Karkıragan kay kojon Alıp baatır keberin aydıp bereten kay kojon
Oyno, oyno toopşurım Oygor kalık tındazın Cırga, jırga toopşurım Caş jyrekter kayılzın
Caş oskurim ortodo Cayılıp barzın kay kojon Caandar bergen tuucını Camandap bis aytpaylık
Al – sanastı kodurip Çorçok aydıp cureyin Kay kuuçındı cogodip Kaykaladıp iyeyin
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jan 12, 2021 5:26:26 GMT -5
Varan, Varan Presidency, Kyras
"Come on, work, you piece of shit." The tinkerer had been muttering to himself inside the Joint Projects Building, a new addition to the Varan skyline since its inception a month and a half ago. After the attempt to take the capital, the Provisional Government had announced that all efforts to improve the Kyran Forces and their equipment would be held within the town center, in a fortified building complete with barracks and a full regiment of guards from across the Republic. The tinkerer had been chosen from Northeastern Kyras, particularly Tal-Plier: his work was on improving the draw strength and penetrative power of Long Bows, particularly to negate their disadvantages of a shorter distance and unwieldiness, things that weren't really in need of addressing given its lighter weight and ability to punch through armor well enough. "GĦIBNI ĦMIEĠ," he suddenly heard a hoarse voice scream: turning around, he saw the quintessential warlock standing there not far from him, right next to a young scribe that had been assigned to this wing of the building, dramatically posing while in his black robe and carrying his wooden wand. The tinkerer was not alone in noticing the warlock screaming, practically the entire room turned around to face the weird man, looking at him: no one knew where exactly he came from, but his voice suggested he was a Western immigrant, which state in particular they could not say. The tinkerer only snapped out of his stupor when the string on the Long Bow prototype snapped, slashing his arm, "FUCK!" He screamed, grabbing a rag and tightening it around his now-bleeding wound, a guard coming in to investigate. "What in the blue blazes is happening here?" The guard muttered, walking over to the tinkerer. "Damned string on the Bow snapped, slashed my arm: all I need is some gauze and wraps," the tinkerer said, the guard rolling his eyes and undoing his satchel, the tinkerer holding his arm out and wincing as the soldier poured water to clean his wound before putting the cotton pad on the wound and tightened it with cloth strips, eventually finishing with a pin to hold the wraps in place. "Replace the gauze the next time you bathe or if your arm somehow gets wet," the guard said, only now noticing the crowd looking at the warlock, "He a friend of yours?" "No, not really: come to think of it, no one is," the tinkerer said, only to pause when he recalled what the warlock said, "All I know is he said was għibni ħmieġ." "He told his shit to disappear?" The guard said. "Yeah, but I don't know wh-" The tinkerer had started, only for them to hear it: the wettest, most putrid-sounding 'squelch' echoed in the room, coupled with a fart as the warlock screamed the words again, "GĦIBNI ĦMIEĠ!" The crowd gagged when the smell finally hit, the tinkerer now coming to the realization of what the warlock was trying to do. "WHAT IN THE BLUE FUCK IS THIS?!" The guard now screamed, clearly enraged as he walked over to the warlock, who now looked confused, his hand still holding onto the wand. "What? I SAID THE SPELL CORRECTLY, WHY IS IT NOT GONE? THAT CAVE RAT TOLD ME TO SAY THOSE WORDS EXACTLY AND TO HAVE A WAND PRESENT. VANISH. VANISH! VANISH!" "YOU! WHY IN THE NAME OF ZYPNAC'S SAGGY BALLSACK DID YOU SHIT YOURSELF? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU OLD FOOL!" The soldier demanded, now being joined by three more soldiers who had heard the commotion, the newcomers now joining the growing crowd in gagging at the stench. "I WILL FIND THAT BLOODY CAVE RAT AND UTTER THE SPELL TO MAKE HIM SHOW HIS TRUE FORM, HE WILL NOT A MAKE A FOOL OF ME!" The warlock dramatically declared, now starting to levitate, splatterings of refuse exiting from the bottom of his robes as he began to float for the door, dramatically screaming, "I WILL HAVE REVENGE ON THE RATLING EMPIRE, THOSE FURRY FUCKS WILL FIND NO QUARTER!" "SOMEONE GET THAT BASTARD," the soldier yelled out, the crowd now screaming as some were hit with droplets of excrement, the tinkerer running over to his desk while pulling his shirt up to his nose to stop the stench, looking at the surface and finding a hammer. "THOSE FOOLS WILL NOT FLEE TO THEIR BURROWS LIKE LAST TIME AND SCREAM OF CHEESIES, THEY WILL WITNESS THEIR DOOM!" The warlock continued to scream, his wand powering as he eyed the window to the outside, placed right above the doorway as the trio of soldiers began to load their Long Bows and fire at him: they didn't get the chance as the tinkerer threw the hammer in an arc, the handle somehow managing to strike clear center of the back of the warlock's head, the man stumbling in the air and falling to the ground in an undramatic flop, only for everyone to gag when they heard a squelch as his ass hit the ground, a spray of brown exiting from the bottom towards the door and causing several people to now vomit in disgust, in particular the scribe, who bent over and vomited next to his desk. "IT'S MY FIRST DAY!" The boy sobbed before vomiting again, the tinkerer wrapping another towel and tying it around his mouth as an impromptu mask, before walking to the soldiers. "So, I'm guessing we are to clear out of this room now, mainly with all of this excrement and effuse on the floor?" "Might as well," the soldier sighed, pulling his own shirt up as he signaled to the other soldiers to come around, "One of you, get the janitorial crew and tell them to bring extra buckets, mops, and water to clean this mess. I want another to get the medical crew here and check on those currently vomiting, and the last one, I want you to first go to the nearest bar and tell them the Joint Projects Building request as much alcohol as can be poured into barrels, and then to the Iron Cunnus and tell them to send some of their hashish here: I think we all need some beer and hash to get the smell and memories of today out of our heads." "You know what, fuck it, I'm calling it an early day today, I'll pick up the slack tomorrow," the tinkerer said, "Whichever one of you is going to the bar, count me in, I am going to need some serious liquor to get this proverbial shit out of my mind." Later that night, Scribe's QuartersThe scribe was in his room, currently resting: after vomiting the rest of his guts out, he was looked at by the medical crew and was deemed to be too ill to continue his duties, leading to his superiors issuing an apology over his first day before ordering him to stay in his room for the rest of the day, the only other interaction he had with the Building's staff was a worker bringing him food and a traditional stomach remedy to help him out, followed by another worker giving him a basket of fruits and a note from his superiors. The basket sat on his desk, which was placed at the wall opposite of his bed, right above a grate leading to the city's drainage system, with a small plate covering it. As he slept, the plate began to move, finally falling to the floor with a dull 'thud' as a furred hand pushed it away, the grate now presented with a pair of green eyes, a soft glow emanating from them. " Boy-Child. BOY-CHILD." The being commanded, the scribe groaning as he stirred awake, his bleary eyes trying to focus on the grate, the voice coming from what looked like a rat's face. " WAKE. IT IS TIME TO PLAY GAMES. GAME-PLAY. IN THE DRAINS." "Shut up, rat-thing, I'm trying to sleep," the scribe commanded, chalking the whole thing up as a weird dream as he pushed himself up to sit. " FUN PARTIES, BOY-CHILD. CHEESIES AND OWN." "Go away, this was my first day, I just want to sleep." " Noooooo! Sleep is SCAM-FRAUD. Working is a waste of time! Play games and scream, BOY-CHILD! GREAT RAT DAY!" The scribe finally got up, his feet shuffling into a pair of slippers as he walked over to the drain, now looking clearly at the weird rat-headed thing in the drains. "No," the scribe simply sat, kicking the being in the face, the rat-thing screaming as it fell into the flow of the drain, now being carried away to the center of the system. Getting back into bed, he slumped into his pillow, taking one last look and seeing the grate's plate back in position, the scribe sighing and muttering, "Never taking hashish on a workday again," before falling back to sleep. Alternate scene.
"VANISH ME POOPUM," the warlock screamed, his wand waving in the air as he performed right next to the room's scribe, who could only sit there and pray to Myratnis that the warlock wouldn't lean against his desk. "YOU HEAR ME, GODS?! VANISH ME FUCKING POOPUM, MAKE MY SHIT DISAPPEAR!"
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