|
Post by axeldonia on Nov 25, 2019 20:18:02 GMT -5
Quijain
”Dusk.”
As soon as Yrutas’ words reached the frontline of the camp the army sprang into action, guided by the commanders stationed among them. Helena watched with a sinking heart as one after another the war-wagons rolled out of the camp, followed by rows and rows of soldiers and all manner of implements of war; artillery, baskets full of caltrops and a seemingly endless line of crossbow bolts, gunpowder and huge cannonballs. Somehow it felt like it wasn’t enough and Helena guessed that it truly wouldn’t be. She joined in with those that remained in the camp that had busied themselves with fortifying. If Yrutas broke through it would likely be of little consequence, but it was better than just watching and waiting. Staring out in the distance, at Yrutas’ looming horde…
A chill ran up their spine as Gale tightened their cape. Despite the gusts of wind blowing across the grassy plains, Gale suspected they were not the real cause of the cold that had seemingly settled across the Titenfiscan lines. They climbed down from their place atop a wagon and inspected the large fireplace being set up in the middle, more to provide warmth than any illusory advantage it may provide in maintaining their vision. In fact, the plan was to put out their fires once dusk arrived to give their Enekebe, Squidspawn and Kobold spotters optimal conditions to help their human companions.
“Hey Gale, you have any famous last words?”
Gale was snapped out of their contemplation by a human soldier. Looking over at them, they realized that it wasn’t meant as a belittling taunt as much as it was a nervous attempt at consigning themselves to a probable demise.
“The gods have given us their mercy. All we can pray to now is the steel in our hands and the blood in our veins.”
Gale turned their gaze to the vast fields once more.
Waiting.
|
|
|
Post by yukona on Nov 26, 2019 8:30:50 GMT -5
Somewhere in the mountains of Northern Calveria
Carwyn buttoned his green smock up to his mouth, his breath was curling in front of him in a dragon-like fashion. Up ahead, for as far as the eye could see, rugged mountains imbricated the horizon, soaring into the blue air. His helmet, with its fur-inline and small eye slit was now becoming more of a hindrance, its warmth giving way to heaviness on his head, and its polished metal seemingly emanating frost. He crouched, took off his helmet and attached it to his belt, along with his sword and purse, donning his fur hat and pulling his hood up to meet it, sheltering him from the cold. The snow crunching under his thickly-padded boots, he sighed as he signaled for his entourage to a stop. Behind him, a group of men were carrying a small and slender boat, seemingly made of a single tree. It had a cover over the top, big enough to accommodate the party of six, and was intricately decorated with complex patterns along its trim. They dropped the vessel and made their way up to the ledge that Carwyn now found himself peering over, coming to the end of the massif. The highlands gave way to forested slopes, he knelt and gently removed a leather-bound item from his bag, carefully untying its wraps as he lay it on the white sheet of untouched snow before him. He pulled out two long tubes, connected, each with two pieces of glass on either end, and moved it up to his eyes as his magnified vision swept across the tundra before him. He felt like akin to the lone eagle, soaring high above his head, gazing with intent and diligence.
"What do you see?" his companion Ceswir asked, as he placed a hand on Carwyn's shoulder, motioning to be given the binoculars.
"I am not sure, you take a look. I was too absorbed in the view, but for the Divine's sake do not bloody drop them, you know how much they cost", Carwyn handed them over.
After a few moments, Ceswir's fluid observance of the valley before them came to a quick halt, he crouched to steady his arm against the winds and rubbed the lens with his gloved hand. "I think our journey is not in vein, lads, I believe that is the place we're looking for!" he said as he pointed far in the distance, handing the binoculars back to Carwyn. "Look over there, where that river bends away from us toward the sea. You see anything?"
Carwyn followed Ceswir's direction as his eyes focused, and sure enough there appeared to be smoke rising from a large clearing on the coast. Upon adjusting the optics themselves, replacing it with a magnified lens from the same leather case and erecting a tripod, he placed them atop the support and attempted to find the area of interest again. Indeed, through the snow and mountain mist, he saw the town - black and blue banners buffeting atop a stakewall in the harsh wind, their stark colours appeared accentuated against the forest behind them. He grinned, "that is certainly the place those fur trappers told us about", he paused as he watched in awe a while longer, "well then, there's no sense in stopping here with so much day-light left, let us continue our journey until sunset and then we shall rest". He took faith in the fact that despite its apparent distance, 'at least the town was now a sighted point, rather than a figment of probability on the whim of some trader. Now, if they could make it back to Lylith in one piece, that would be a story', he thought. 'Perhaps a title would suit me' he fancied, smiling wryly to himself.
He placed the binoculars back into his knapsack and relieved a man of his duty to carry the boat, forgetting how lightweight it was despite its contents. The boat was made of what is known in Glynia as 'weightless willow', which - as can be inferred from the name - has special properties of being extremely strong yet equally lightweight. Along with their other cargo and equipment, it was a handsome price on the Aberdore markets. "Infuriating that we can't bring mounts, 'ey Carwyn?" his friend Fydion jested, supporting the carry to his left.
"And how do you suppose we'd fit a fucking moose in this boat, Fydion?" Carwyn retorted, chuckling heartily as the group trudged down the mountainside.
A ship, the Leek of Figenni, somewhere off the coast of northern Kyras
The ship's wood creaked and yawned as water could be heard lapping at the ships boundaries'. Rhyf was perched on the edge of his hammock, the candles orange flame barely licking the darkness, he strained his eyes as he slowly strapped on his gauntlets and vambrace, making sure to adequately tighten the plates as he done a final check on himself. A sailor bellowed from the gloom, "land sighted!". An eruption of cheers and whoops responded, as men bashed their swords and shield together with excitement. Rhyf fastened his helmet strap and slinged his circular shield to his back, ensuring he had his sword in its sheath, 'oh, such bad fate if he forgot that', he thought. Regardless, his trusty - and rather expensive - blade hung heavily on his hip. He jumped, rather too eagerly, off his hammock and immediately was sent staggering, his armour contributing to the effect of the ship roll as he was nearly sent careering into a fellow soldier hidden in the absence of light.
"Hey! What where you're going!" a body-less voice shouted in annoyance.
"Sorry, friend".
Rhyf stabilised himself and slowly set about stepping, from beam to beam, as he hung on to prevent himself from clattering into the many men surrounding him - using the hubbub and murmur to gauge where the safest path of navigation was to be through this black morass. He finally found the stairs, and used both hands on the steps as he clambered up. Opening the hatch above his head he immediately squinted, the light blinding him temporarily as he lay on the deck, half his body still in the hatch. As he regained his vision, he stood up and looked around.
"First time at sea?" a sailor with a rugged, yet curious face quizzed, toking on his pipe.
"Hopefully not the last", Rhyf smiled, as he made his way further onto the deck. Around him, men were preparing for the landing, discussing their weapons and armour and checking one another were properly suited. Rhyf noted the war banner had been raised far above his head on the main mast, and then looked haplessly at the horizon. Sure enough, as the ship peaked and troughed over the oncoming waves, a thick dark stretch of land became quite prominent. Men slowly began pouring out from below deck at a higher frequency, the sound of clanging weapons almost deafening the relentless sea as it attempted to overcome the ship's speed. Rhyf noted his commander on the other side of the deck, surrounded by his chlan, and quickly started on maneuvering through the dense mass of metal and men towards him.
|
|
|
Post by yukona on Dec 15, 2019 15:54:04 GMT -5
Outside Yola's Landing
Carwyn trudged ahead of his scout party, the snow compacting under his now heavy leather boots. They had been negotiating their way down the treacherous slopes for the past day and night with little respite, only coming to a halt once they made it into the relative cover of the forest at the mountain's foot. He knew there was no sense in camping in a blizzard, the mountain-side was a harsh place, and the team remained eager to relieve themselves of its unpredictable weather rather than pitching up only to see themselves buffeted and broken against the bitterly cold winds.
Fydion had caught three rabbits a few days ago, and the temperature ensured they were still safe to melt and roast over the fire as the men briefly compensated for their lack of sleep. The forest was much more predictable under foot, the snow had only reached the parts exposed by gaps in the firs' canopy, and subsequently the men made haste through it - their talent for travelling even the most extreme undulating and wooded terrain made the final stage of their journey short work, lacking much of the need for effort or contemplation.
The party observed the fortifications across the plain ahead of them for quite some time. The stone walls, the wooden guard towers, the banners. The Glynian ability to hide in the forest meant they watched with leisure, as the guards changed over and the night-watch fires were slowly put out. As the sun incrementally progress into the pale, cloudless, sky, the hubbub of the town and the sound of roosters begun to echo towards them.
Carwyn was busy using his binoculars, absorbed, until he was interrupted by Ceswir, who took a seat on a nearby tree stump.
"This is the place then?" Ceswir asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
"What gave you that impression?" he chuckled back, throwing him the magnifying device. "Are the men ready?"
The question was already answered, as he noticed his compatriots had already begun strapping themselves up and donning their helmets, raising the boat back onto their shoulders. Slowly, they began to make their way to the plane before them, Carwyn and Siôn, a scribe from Lylith, deliberated over their objective as they approached the settlement.
"This could mean a very lucrative deal for Chlan Morganny, Siôn. I must say, I am rather intrigued as to what this holds for us, perhaps when we arrive home, only the expanse knows when, we shall be heroes? Rich?"
"Your hunger for glory is admirable, brother. However, perhaps your enthusiasm would be better spent in more... scholarly outlets" he joked "alas, I don't think it would be too much to suggest that we may be indeed! Regardless, we must remember the broader outlook of the mission, the goods and learning that could be achieved from this means much for the people, not the individual. This we must remember."
"You're right, my friend. Right indeed. Regardless, we must ensure this goes well, I entrust a grate deal of faith in you to make sure none of us... fuck up, if you will. I know an educated man such as yourself can be aware of so many things, but make sure of that at the very least. Have you made any advances with the language since I last mentioned it?"
"You have my word, fear not, Carwyn, your lack of faith shall be proven misplaced. And no, I have not. I mean, we know as much as we can know - for what the coastal settlers we made contact with back on our landing in the east communicated, they must speak at least some 'common', of which I've taken time to at least gain partial ability in. We must hope they know of this, and according to said settlers they do indeed. These people supposedly have contact with a vast array of others on the 'continent', this could be only the beginning. Nevertheless, these people's language is apparently not too distant to our own, so communication should not be an issue".
"Very well", Carwyn replied, wiping the snow off that had settled in the creases of his smock. He noticed the gates of the town had no opened and two figures, a man and a lizard-like creature, were stood around ten feet away from it. They had perplexed looks on their faces, the taller man had his hand gloved hand on the hilt of an elaborately decorated sword.
Carwyn lifted off his helmet to reveal his oak-like brown, bearded face and dark hair. "Hail!"
|
|
|
Post by Percyton on Dec 16, 2019 23:08:47 GMT -5
Crusader encampment, No Man’s Land, former Quijain King Godred
As the mysterious figure of Yrutas faded away, the Dual Kingdom delegation looked at each other with a mixture of amazement and uncertainty. “Umm… was that actually Yrutas talking to those folks?” Peter Sam said.
“I… think so,” Skarloey replied, his eyes still widened and his mouth agape.
Duke’s expression was grim. He shook his head. “Call me crazy,” he said. “But I have a bad feeling about this.”
King Godred nodded. Before the monarch could say anything else, a Kyran ran up to the Dual monarch and his entourage, relaying what had just happened. With a stoic expression, Godred turned to his commanders. “Right, I better meet the other leaders in the Command Tent. Thorkell, James, you two should be there too. So should you Duke.”
The other three nodded. “I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Duke said. He turned to Skarloey. “You’re in charge until I get back. Guard our camp until I get back.”
Skarloey faintly smiled. “Of course, Duke.”
“An' whatever happens,” Duncan said, stepping closer to Duke, “just remember one thing: th' Warfather shall ne'er surrender!” Duncan slapped Duke on the back. “One way or another, we're gonna take th' Yrutan bastards doon."
Duke smiled warmly. “Thanks, Duncan. I appreciate that.”
“Oh!” Godred interjected. “Before I forget…” He turned to a page standing nearby. “Send word to Eamon of Suddery and bring him to the Command Tent. This meeting will be one for the ages, and he’ll want to write it down for posterity.” The page saluted and ran off. With that out of the way, the four delegates walked off.
After a moment, Thorkell spoke up. “I’ve been looking around the camp. You should see the size of the armies some of our allies brought! It makes our force seem tiny by comparison.”
Godred waved the remark off. “Probably just peasant mobs raised in a hurry. At least our force is elite and experienced from the civil wars.”
“Our allies also seem to be taking this Crusade very seriously,” James added. “I mean, they act like Yrutas killed their families or something!”
“From what I understand,” Duke said, “he actually did for some of them.”
“Oh.” James averted his eyes and awkwardly looked all around.
There was a long silence. Godred looked at the sullen but determined faces of the Kyran and Lexidun soldiers as he passed by them. Now I know what they’re fighting for, Godred thought to himself.
The group eventually found their way to the command tent with the other leaders. “What’s happening?” Godred said as he entered. “What’re the latest updates?”
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Dec 23, 2019 15:09:09 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, No Man's Land - Quijain
"It is good to see you too Bakahn." Blair returned the hug, patting the champion who saved his life on the back. "On days as dark as these, it is a sight like no other to see you standing alongside your fellow champions." Noticing King Godred 's arrival he waved. "We are preparing Godred, the time to fight is now."
Scanning the room, he saw his fellow Calverians and continued to speak up. "As we speak, my armies are preparing themselves and are ready for whatever plan we come up with but we have to act fast. The god of chaos will show us no quarter and neither should we."
Spotting Donn Myra and Leanabh he paused, before approaching the large table in the middle of the tent, a grand map of central Calveria placed upon it.
"Leanabh, Zaren and Bakahn. They stared the mad god in the face and here they yet stand. Their resolve steeled and mettle truly tested. They will be the axe, spear and sword to end Yrutas and we will be their hands. We will not falter and we will prevail."
"The champions stand ready and so should we. We decide now whether to defend the camp in preparation for a siege or we go on the offensive, we must decide now. These... orks... they are many and they out number us but we have something they don't."
"A home. A home to fight for and to die for if need be. We will climb into the very Tabes itself and cut out the rotten heart of corruption itself to protect our homes." Blair took his axe and embedded it in the centre of the map with a mighty swing.
"Our home is Calveria! She is your land, my land, OUR land... and we shall rid her of the purple madness once and for all.
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Jan 3, 2020 8:34:15 GMT -5
Tale Fang, Yola's Landing - Lexidun Asakorus
"Half a dozen, maybe slightly more... I can't be certain." The green kobold mumbled to his fellow sentry, a tall and dark beared human. The two of them were wrapped tightly in their winter furs, the white lion of Lexidus emblazoned upon their chests, a thin layer of frost enveloping the symbol of the empire.
"Kyran?" the human grumbled. Tale shook his head, adjusting his fur hat so they sat better around his horns.
"No... they've not got any banners to show themselves as such. Clothing looks different too. Almost like... ours? Different but similar."
"Dual Kingdomites then?"
Tale shook his head harder and sighed. "They've got no reason being this far north and even if they were they would have let us know."
"Someone new then?"
"...I think so. Get the Admiral would you?"
The human sentry left the watchtower with haste, leaving his kobold companion to continue monitoring the unknown group through his spyglass. He let a cold shiver crawl through his body and shook it away quickly, whoever these people were, they didn't deserve to be out in this weather.
Hours past and the group drew closer, Tale Fang left his watch tower and descended into the town, making his way to the gates. To his surprise it was not his commander waiting for him but an admiral, THE High Admiral.
"Sentryman Fang I assume? I'm Ryan Hunter, High Admiral. Looks like you'll be accompanying me as we meet these people halfway."
"Y-yes sir!" The kobold blurted out, smiling nervously at the fact the Hero Admiral of the Winter War was standing in front of him.
"Excellent! I can add this to another first contact I have managed, glad to have you along, I'm correct in being told you speak multiple languages?"
"Yes sir! Common, Celtmaric, Mennspracht, Ilsien tal-Gwerra both Western and Eastern and -"
Ryan chuckled and marched forward beckoning Tale to follow. "You'll do just fine then my talented friend!"
Tale clumsily followed, the two of them leaving through the grand wooden front gates and towards the mysterious entourage, eventually meeting them in the snowy plains just outside of Yola's Landing.
Admiral Ryan Hunter raised his arms in a welcoming gesture, keeping Tale to his side before warmly greeting the group before him.
"Greetings! My friends, to whom do you belong to?"
Tale regurgitated the words spoken by his superior in as many languages he could speak, eventually speaking clearly in Celtmaric.
Carwyn held up a gloved hand and responded in broken mix of common and Glynic. "Hail to you, companion. We have come by orders of the most magnanimous and wise King of Flowers to deliver to you with great haste and importance this letter," he motioned as Siôn removed a long scroll-like piece of parchment from his knap sack, extending it out in offering.
Hunter shook the hand of the farlander. Making sure he didn't grip too tightly nor shake it too vigorously, basic diplomacy etiquette, especially when making first contact with a new nation. He accepted the letter in kind and unfurled it, reading it.
Carwyn jerked his hand in surprise before he realised the man was parting a greeting upon him. Although similar, it was convention in Glynica for greeters to grab forearms, not hands, as the latter were believed to be sacred. Regardless, it left him relatively unfazed, he had encountered more uncultured practices in the far-reaches of his own kingdom. He removed his helmet, holding it to his chest under his left arm.
The parchment was of very rich quality and a pale shade reminiscent of freshly cut wood. At the very top, it contained a perplexingly familiar symbol that was as recognisable as it was completely foreign. Below, in a language of similar characteristics to the symbol itself, and below that in common, perfect black writing ink was etched into the thick paper. Around the borders were etched gold motifs of various plants.
The letter read as follows: "By the grace of the grove, by the compassion of the mother, in accordance with the will and by justification of the King of Flowers. He who holds the primeval knowledge and who is both the wild and the tamed, the wet and the warm, the peaceful and the powerful. Chief of Chlan Morgan, unifier of the Isles and custodian of Dyn Faen.
I, King Cadfan af Morgany, request the passage and presence of these men, my humble messengers and bringers of peace and gifts, to be without hindrance or interference, and for their haste to their destination to be assisted by whatever means, be it food or hospitality, as should be adequately afforded to them in order for the fulfilment of their duties to the Throne of Yew and Elm, the King of Flowers, and the Kingdom of Glynica.
I, regent of all that does span from the boundaries of each of the Endless Seas, petition for the beginning of an amicable and cordial relationship between our two great and illustrious realms. For too long have these peoples of my nation floundered in isolation, ignorant of what lies beyond the once thought-irreconcilable lengths of our surrounding oceans. For no more shall time be wasted in this situation, and thus I extend our arms in an embrace of thy entire being, for at once I solicit the return of a messenger of your own to begin a new kinship.
I have sent Carwyn, first of his name, and son of my brother, Duke of the Figenni, Dawelwyr af Morgany, and a band of my most trusted soldiers, to carry unto the highest in your kingdom this message to whomever it concerns. They bring gifts most befitting of only the greatest companion, deserving only geniality and the warmest hearth, as you do, great King of the Sea Peoples. Please receive them in due course, feast and wonder, for this party of heroes in your company have gone far during their immensely treacherous journey. I hope these items provide you with the happiness and comfort for which they are intended."
|
|
|
Post by yukona on Jan 3, 2020 8:37:21 GMT -5
The Citadel of Caerfaen, Lylith
The Alder Chamber was situated high above the rocks and walls of Dyn Faen, deep within the citadel sharing its name. As its name suggests, the walls were paneled with un-stripped planks of dark alder wood, muddy in its complexion. The fire in the centre of the room beneath an impressively large dome cast dancing stories of shadow across thewall's undulating bark, crackling and spitting in its orange hues. As one would imagine, the room smelt damp yet fragrant and pleasant, its moss covered stones arching upward to a circular hole in the roof, a revealing peephole into the star dashed night sky. Around the edges of the room hung banners of varying colours, yet opposite the balcony on the far wall the verdant flag of Chlan Morgan sat prominently above all others, fluttering gently in the cold breeze. Down the hallways, through large oak doors either side, quiet notes of music echoed and bounded down the dark stones, ruminating about the chamber. Around the firepit in the middle of the expansive room were a number of elaborately carved chairs, around which a number of figures - all in white - were seated in a tense fashion. All of the robed men had long, full beards and set-back eyes, and most were in a perceivable state of deep contemplation with something far beyond the chamber.
King Cadfan sat in the congregation, each of his palms resting on his legs, a shoulders width apart. He himself had his eyes closed, his long hair was tucked behind his ear and his chest rose and fell in a slow fashion. He felt his body twitching, his moustache itching, as his thought became concentrated on the area above between his eyebrows on his forehead. He in a meditative state of tranquility, he could feel his whole body vibrating as the sorcery began to take him into the Other Realm. Smells of burning sage and mistletoe filled his nostrils, until eventually he had left his conscious body.
The druids (derwyd as they're known in Glynic) soon too closed their eyes and resigned themselves to a relaxed yet intent position similar to that of their King. The hypnotic music began to distort and grow louder. A man dressed in a brown robe similar to that of the seated men, observing in a dark recess of the chamber, let a single, hollow note out of a wooden flute-like instrument. Clattering came down the hallways as on either side of two pairs of guards appeared, their chest tunics emblazoned with the symbol of the Glynic Kingdom. Each were followed by a group of squires and courtiers, each jostling quietly as they were eager to peer in. The guards handed their spears to the squires with great caution, as they placed their hands on the large, thick, oak doors and began to push them close. A handful of priests in another corner nodded as the room was finally shut off, the scrying session had begun.
|
|
|
Post by Andromitus on Jan 6, 2020 14:57:23 GMT -5
• • • • • • • • Quijain • • • • • • • •
“They can appear and disappear at a moments notice, a defensive position is necessary.” Bakahn started in, “With your permissions I will have my priests anoint the ground on which we stand; the waters of God run eternal, and anointed soil will work to nullify any magic that would appear on it. If such prayers are strong enough they may prove the only barrier to prevent the Horde’s intrusion into our camp. The great-demon is a pitiful child hoping to score a glorious victory, I’d wager his granting of 24-hours is a propaganda stunt. It wishes only to shake its fist and show God and the Divines its might. Defeating it here will be more than a physical victory, I believe it will be more a psychological blow the enemy, breaking any potential illusions of invincibility.” Bakahn looked toward Żaren, “Brother, I too once served the Warfather, and our peoples together share a culture of humiliation.” He smiled devilishly, “I say we should humiliate the enemy; they boast now of moving tens of thousands, nay millions, in an instant, so my priests will create a landscape through which they cannot traverse. The might of Divine of the Struggle, the Warfather, is itself antithetical to corruption. Your folk should create the barricade of divine fire to strip them of their numbers. In but a fell swoop our two peoples will break the enemy of their two advantages, motion and men, and simultaneously jeer at the great-evil. I can promise first-hand that my elite core of men will fight by yours’ side.
|
|
|
Post by Percyton on Mar 3, 2020 1:57:26 GMT -5
Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Queen Helga
The Queen of the Dual Kingdom sat on her bed, staring out the window. She breathed a heavy sigh as she looked down at her stomach. A knock came at the door. Helga turned, and saw her handmaiden Mary coming into the room. “So…,” Mary said, “did you get confirmation?”
Helga slowly nodded. “The test came back positive. I’m pregnant.”
Mary put her hands over her mouth. “Dear Myratnis. I want to be happy for you, Your Majesty, but I know this comes at a rather inopportune time.”
The Queen smiled. “Thank you, Mary. I do have a lot on my plate, but I’m also happy to be having another child. Although we’ll have to keep my pregnancy under wraps for as long as we can, so no one has any doubts about my ability to lead.” The Queen sighed. “I’ll just have to balance being pregnant and being regent.”
“Unlikely,” came a voice. The Queen looked and saw the Chancellor, Cormac of Balladrine, standing in the doorway.
“Cormac,” Helga said, “what a… pleasant surprise.”
“You’re not the only one who is surprised,” Cormac said. He shook his head and approached the Queen. “I had heard the rumors, and it seems they’re true: The Queen is pregnant with child. And do you know what that means?”
Helga had a suspicion of what Cormac would say, but she decided to play dumb. “I’m afraid I do not.”
Cormac chuckled. “It means you’re not fit to rule, my dear. Woman are already unstable creatures, ruled by their passions and their emotions, and pregnancy throws their bodies even more out of order.”
Helga put her hand to her chest, but it wasn’t Chancellor’s words she was shocked by. She trusted Cormac, and she had expected he would offer his assistance, not that she would be directly called unfit to rule. “That is no way to speak to your Queen, Cormac!” Helga huffed. “More importantly, you raised no concerns about my leadership before, and you agreed with many of my decisions, so why do you think my pregnancy changes things?”
Cormac smiled as he put a hand on Helga’s shoulder. “Oh how little you realize. A perfect example of how pregnancy disrupts a woman’s thinking. I did agree with many of your decisions, yes. But there were also decisions I did not agree with. At first I simply assumed it was the natural differences of opinion between people. But starting from when you granted amnesty to Norman, Sidney, and Bear over my objections, I started to suspect something was wrong. Knowing you’re pregnant, it explains so much of your past actions.”
Helga scowled at the Chancellor. She brushed Cormac’s hand off her. “Outrageous! I have always based my decisions on my own judgement and reasoning, and I will continue to do so even while pregnant.”
Cormac smirked and crossed his arms. “We shall see about that. Why don’t we put the matter to the test, then? The Regency Council meets in two days’ time. We shall discuss the issue of your pregnancy, and then the Council shall vote on whether to keep you as chair or remove you in my favor. Can we agree on that?”
“And if I refuse?”
Cormac shrugged. “I’m going to tell the Council either way, you might as well take the opportunity to defend yourself.”
Helga narrowed her eyes. She stared at the Chancellor. She just couldn’t shake the feeling Cormac was up to something. Still, this was her chance to prove her case. “I can agree to that,” she said after a moment. “We shall put the matter to a vote. I am confident the Council will realize my strengths.”
Cormac gave a devious smile. “We shall see. The Council’s judgement may surprise you, Your Majesty.”
Two days later…
The members of the Council shuffled into the grand council room for their usual 9 in the morning meeting. Helga had arrived early, observing each delegate enter. As the start time approached, an uneasiness rose in Helga’s stomach. Something wasn’t right. It seemed like someone was missing.
At 8:58, Mary came into the room. She whispered to the Queen: “Just got word that Ogmund won’t be coming today. He was held up by unexpected military matters.”
Queen Helga’s eyes widened. “What? What military matters? How could this happen on today of all days?”
Mary shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I know you counted on his support, but we’ll just have to do without it this time.”
Helga let out a heavy sigh. “Something tells me this won’t be our only obstacle today.”
At exactly 9, Cormac leisurely strolled into the room, followed by two other Council members. The Chancellor sat down to the left of the Queen. With all 15 Council members having arrived, the meeting could begin. “Right then,” Helga said as she stood up. “Before we start usual business, we have an emergency matter to discuss. I recently found out I’m pregnant. However, Chancellor Cormac has raised doubts about my ability to rule during my pregnancy. In light of this, we are putting the matter to a vote.” She pointed to Cormac. “Chancellor, you may speak first.”
Helga sat back in her seat, and Cormac stood up. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I actually think we can get this done with fairly quickly.” He turned to the other Council members, glancing at each of the members seated around the long table. “I’ve spoken to you all before the meeting, and I like to believe I’ve convinced you of the danger of our present situation. To reiterate, the Dual Kingdom is sailing dangerous waters, with our king fighting in a far-off land and the Yrutan infiltrators at our very doorstep. In such times, we cannot afford a temperamental thing like a pregnant woman by the one to steer our ship. We need a steady hand, and as the Chancellor, I believe I am the natural choice.” Cormac paused and put on a smirk. “I’d like to call for a vote.”
Helga jumped up from her seat and raised a hand toward Cormac. “Hold on, this isn’t what we agreed to! I’d like to—”
The Chancellor cut her off. “All in favor of removing Queen Helga from the Regency Council, raise your hands now.” Every hand except Helga’s went up. “All opposed?” Helga feebly put up her hand. Upon seeing she was the only one voting in opposition, she sighed and bowed her head.
Cormac grinned. “It’s settled, then. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Your Majesty, but your time on the Council is done. We wish you all the best, and I hope you are able to get plenty of rest while you wait for your baby.”
Helga stood up. She scanned the faces of the Council members who voted against her. A few had a slight frown, a few had confident smirks, but most showed no emotions on their faces either way. Helga sighed and then left the room, waving her hand to beckon for Mary to follow.
As the Queen and Mary walked down the hallways toward her bedroom, she passed by one of the many side rooms in the castle. The door was closed, but she could hear voices coming from the other side. Odd, Helga thought to herself. I wasn’t aware of any other meetings at this time. She put a hand on Mary’s shoulder and pointed at the door. Then the Queen stepped closer and put her ear to the door.
“This is taking too long,” said a deep voice Helga didn’t recognize. “We should be closer to our objective by now. What’s the hold up here?”
“Patience, Reginald,” said another, higher-pitched voice. This one the Queen did recognize: It was Stepney of Bluebell Valley, assistant to the Locomati ambassador to the court Countess Molly. “We will receive orders in due time. In fact, I just received a message from the big man himself.”
Helga raised an eyebrow. The big man? The Queen kept listening, and now she heard what sounded like a scroll being unrolled. There was a moment of silence, before Stepney spoke again.
“Boomerius congratulates us on our success,” Stepney said grandly. “He says all has been going according to plan, and we’ve done our part flawlessly.”
“That was a pretty good trick we pulled,” said a third voice with a chuckle. “Getting the Queen to think there were Order infiltrators in the Locomati Diplomatic Corps. Now the Chief Driver is both far from court and without any allies at home.”
“Quite so, Caleb,” Stepney replied. “And I’d like to think I’m quite a thespian, playing innocent and making the Queen think me and Molly were the only innocent ones. If I were not a diplomat I should have gone into the theater.” There were hearty laughs all around, until they were interrupted by Reginald’s voice.
“So is that it?” he shrieked. “Boomerius wasted precious resources getting a message through just to say ‘good job’?!”
“Not quite. He’s telling us to wait while he puts his part of the plan into motion. Boomerius, Beechtorius, and Diesalion will be leading an assault on Grand Duke Thomas’ court at Ballahoo once the time is right. When combined with a Yrutan corruption assault, the defeat of the Crusaders in the Tabes, and our own attack on the royal court, it should be enough to bring down the entire Dual Kingdom.”
“So it’s all a matter of waiting?!” Reginald raged.
“For now, yes.” Stepney chuckled. “Patience, Reginald. Our time will come soon.”
Reginald grunted. “It better, or else I’m not sure if I can hold my men back.”
Helga jerked away from the door. She held her hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. I have to tell Percy and Flora!
….
Helga wasted no time. Mary trailing behind, she picked up her pace and fast-walked to the dungeon beneath the palace. Standing at the entrance was the warden, a big burly man with a black shirt and a brown hood. “Halt!” he said. “State your business.”
Helga shook her head. “Come on, Ulf! You know me! I’m the Queen.”
Ulf stood in place, unflinching. “I’m aware of that, Your Majesty. But what is your business here? A dungeon usually isn’t a ladies’ place.” The warden chuckled. “Unless they’re being held there, of course.”
“I just need to talk to some of the prisoners. Privately, if you could. It’s a sensitive matter.”
Ulf squinted through his hood. “Is that so? An unusual request for the Queen.”
Helga straightened her posture and stomped her foot. “I’m also the head of the Regency Council, and in that capacity, I demand to be let in!”
Ulf looked at the Queen for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.” He opened the door and stood aside. “You may enter Your Majesty.”
Helga smirked. “Thank you, Ulf.” She and Mary strolled into the dungeon, the warden slamming the wooden door behind her. Helga walked the long corridor of the dungeon, cells with grey metal bars on each side. Most of the cells were empty, but scattered in between the vacant cells were cells with two or three Locomati diplomats. Helga sighed as she looked at the downcast faces on the diplomats’ faces.
“Please, help us,” she thought she heard one wail.
“You’re able to free us right now,” another said.
Helga shook her head and kept walking. Finally, at the end of the hallway was one final cell containing the two people she was looking for. “Percy! Flora! It’s so good to see you!”
There was no response, only silence. Percy sat up on the hanging cot bed of the cell, arms crossed and facing away from the Queen, while Flora sat on the floor next to Percy and scowled at the Queen.
“It’s me, Queen Helga! I need to talk to you.”
Flora shook her head. “Percy isn’t talking to you,” she said in a bitter tone. “And frankly, talking to you is a challenge for me as well after you locked us up.”
“Please!” Helga said. “Listen to me!”
“Why should we?” Flora got up and walked toward the Queen. “How do we know you aren’t just here to make fun of us?”
Helga gripped the bars of the cell. “I’m sorry, alright! You two were right all along! I was wrong!”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Percy of Avonsida
Percy listened as Helga explained what she overheard about Stepney and the others. His blood boiled at the thought of Boomerius’ trickery, but this was overridden at the relief of what he expected to be his immediate release. “I see now you two were framed,” Helga finished. “It was all a ruse to isolate Burnett and Lady and deprive them of their allies.”
Percy hopped off the bed and walked toward Helga. He smiled at long last. “Well, I’m glad you saw the truth. So I guess this means you’re here to free us?”
Helga rubbed her arm. “Weelll, not exactly.”
Flora grunted and threw her arms in the air. “There’s always something! What happened now?” Helga explained how she had been removed from the Regency Council. Percy’s smile sank, as he felt his hopes shatter all at once.
Percy chuckled bitterly. “Of course. Just our luck. By the time you realize our innocence you no longer have the power to do anything about it.”
“Not exactly,” Mary said as she stepped up to the cell. “We can still work together even when you’re behind bars.”
“And once we have enough evidence,” Helga said, “I can give the evidence to Cormac, who will surely free you and reinstate me since I’ve proven myself capable.”
“You really think Cormac would do that?” Flora asked.
Helga nodded. “I think so. Cormac may have a chip on his shoulder and some wrongheaded ideas, but at heart he’s a good man, and he can listen to reason.”
Percy let out a sigh. He looked Queen Helga in the eyes. “I hope you’re right, Your Majesty. Everything is on the line right now.”
|
|
|
Post by amandaiscrazy on Mar 8, 2020 21:06:17 GMT -5
Of Mournings, former Regents and New Empresses Year: 2864 XSC (1432 IOTL)Location: Royal Palace of Xoomyo, Imperial Capital of Xoomyo, Holy Woominate of Xoomi Theme
--- Today was the day. The Birthday of the 5th Empress of the Holy Woominate of Xoomi, Empress Hitzumitzu V. She knows this day is special; everyone inside the borders of the Empire knows this day is special. Today, it marks her transition from a lowly ceremonial Empress to a new Empress that will direct the nation to greater heights in the midsts of this societal shift concerning Xoomi's outside borders, a shift that took the nation by storm ever since the assasination of Empress Otome IV. The young Empress sighs as she contemplates the Shrine entirely dedicated to her mother... she slowly caresses the Tomb where her mother's body lays as a single tear drops from her face. "O, Mother... I come to you in a time of great need; I will fulfill the noble task of leading the Mortal brethren, but brethren nonetheless, to a better and brighter future in your honor. If only She didn't decide to take you back home so early... we would have had uncountable amounts of memories I would have cherished. But, alas, She chose to take you home early. I don't judge Her; She, the Grand, the One, knows what She is doing... to question otherwise would be ableist; rightfully so it would be. O, dear Mother, I can not wait for the day we see each other once again in Her house once again. But for now, I will fulfill this noble task, in your honor, Mother. May She guide you to a good life in Her house."She finishes her small discourse, an eulogy if you will, and nods in agreement to one of her guards asking her if she's ready to go in public and show herself for the first time as a fully-fledged Empress and not just as a ceremonial one. As she emerges to the Balcony, the crowd of people, tens of thousands strong, cheer unstoppably at her figure. The people cheering feel liberated, in a way. The regent, Atzumi Himoto, was never popular. Her hardlining attitudes, aligning with the Saidai branch of Squidism, were the same extremist and authoritarian thoughts that drove the assasins, whose name shall not be uttered, to commit their unspeakable act that ended Empress Otome's life.Indeed, the people feel liberated from the ways of the Saidai Squidists. The tide of Xoomi's society had seen a rapid shift; Humans and other non-Inkling creatures started to be increasingly approved by the eyes of Xoomian society. In contrast, the Saidai branch started to fall out of grace, fastly becoming nothing more than a fringe extremist group that would go extint within the next century. The people had awoken and chosen the better side: The Juri-Sha branch. Indeed, it was a progressive sector that embraced the image of the Woomy as the ever-loving goddess She was, She saw everyone but criminals equally, as people whom deserved infinite love, compassion and understanding.Sadly, she can't give an inaugural speech, fancy words to her people. She must be occupied with other important tasts, to how her Woominate must respond to outside influences. However, she breathes a sigh of relief; the people like her, even with her presumed cold nature. She enters to the Palace as the cheers intensify. It is now official: Her Grand and Holy Imperial Majesty, Empress Hitzumitzu V, is now the fifth and current Empress of the Woominate. May the Woomy's everloving embrace be upon her; Hitzumitzu and the Woomy will both guide us to eternal salvation.A brave new World Year: 2864 XSC (1432 IOTL) Location(s): Imperial Palace of Xoomyo; Xoomian Sea; Virit; Opportunity Ambience One of Empress Hitzumitzu's central plans to better the quality of life of citizens of the Woominate is to interact with the Known World is to interact with other realms. For far too long, Xoomi has fallen prey to prejudices which have resulted in isolation lasting centuries. With the aim to end this millennia-long tradition, the Empress hopes to install formal diplomatic and economic relations with other realms. Particularly, Xoomi plans to meet the only two nations she knows of: The Republic of Titenfisca and the Lexidun Empire.
Titenfisca has always been an outlier in the eyes of the Imperial Government back in Xoomyo. Mayors, Duchesses and Empresses alike have looked at the gargantuan territory, which is named "Titenfisca", with odd eyes, with a slight hint of distrust. However, government traditions aside, the Inklings, denizens of the Woominate, have their arms always extended open, ready to accept the "Squidspawn", or "オッドイカ", literally meaning "Odd Squids" in Xoomianese.
A small, unknown vessel bearing a distinct flag with waves on it's borders and an strange symbol arrives to the port city of Virit, in the Lagerland region of the Republic...
--- However, Xoomi's history with the dominant race of the Lexidun Empire, the Humans, is much more... volatile. And to say volatile would be putting it nicely; Xoomi's old, barbarian self had to show her ugly, machiavellic and authoritarian side against the barbarian Human Kingdoms which were attacking her from all angles. The only reason Xoomi is contacting the Lexidun is just because of proximity; she would rather focus her resources entirely on becoming close allies with her fellow squids. However, she knows that not interacting with a nation so close to her is not a good idea.
A small, unknown vessel bearing a distinct flag with wave son it's borders and an strange symbol arrives to the southernmost tip of the Opportunity island of the Empire...
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 9, 2020 16:58:07 GMT -5
Ruby Hollins, Opportunity Island - Lexidun Empire
Chancellor Denshire, let me be blunt in stating that renaming the dominion colonies to that of "the Grian A' Deas" was a necessary measure due to the negative feedback with various colonists and other focus groups. They claim that Caldives is lazy and, I quote, very uninspired. You can send my apologies to the archivists in the capital but I'm sure they can live with rewriting SOME account books and other texts. Furthermore they've got a cheek criticising us for wanting to change the name of a couple of months old set of colonies when they, for nearly two millennia, had our own country's dating system founded upon a mistake! I've been wasting good parchment with accidental ABL's instead of ACL's.
Hopefully this letter finds you in good health. Tell your sister I said hi.
Regards - Ruby Hollins, Chief of the Lexidus Expeditionary Company
She could never get quite used to the humidity of the southernmost colonies. What little wind there was fleeting and the only respite were the cooler nights. Despite this, she kept her base of operations here, finding her focus being shifted to Opportunity due to its optimal positioning in the South-Eastern Passage. It was very defensible and abundant with resources for construction and colonising, in fact it was one of the first colonies to have a functioning fort built within it and have a population in excess of 200. She felt proud of what had been achieved here in so little a time.
Ruby began to seal her letter when a knock came from her door. "Door's open!" she called out.
A flush sailor opened the door to her hut with a spyglass in hand and breathlessly stated "Madam Ruby! Come quickly, there's a ship on the horizon!"
She turned and cocked an eyebrow, still seated. "Kanso? Dualites?"
"Nay my lady, they don't fly any banners we recognise but erm..."
"...but what sailor?"
"They look like squidspawn milady... but they're not Titenfiscan."
Ruby stared at the man slightly confused before standing up and walking briskly out with him, taking the spyglass when offered to her.
"It's a pink and white flag Madam Ruby, with a flower of some kind in the middle. No Titenfiscan banner, governmental or mercenary, flies it." The sailor stated. Both of them marching from the centre of the settlement and onto the beach near the port, soldiers and sailors all scrambling to various places in response to the ships approaching.
"Is our flag at full mast?" Ruby inquired, her quick steps kicking up sand behind her.
"Aye that it is."
"Have the garrison be alert but keep your weapons at ease. This might be first contact with another unknown peoples. Also, bring me squidspawn colonist if you can, see if Calloom is around." Reaching the wooden port she peered through the spyglass as the sailor hurried off.
They... did look like squidspawn albeit with some slight differences, their proportions for one being much less humanoid and larger in contrast to their smaller bodies. Designs of their clothing, armour and even their ship were very foreign and not familiar to her. These were indeed an unknown people. Collapsing the spyglass, soldiers began to form behind her as she waited patiently for the ship to approach Opportunity and dock. Smiling and even waving at the lone vessel as it drew near enough to hear her.
"Hello there! I hope you are well!" the eponymous Ruby Hollins cheerfully greeted.
|
|
|
Post by amandaiscrazy on Mar 9, 2020 18:57:15 GMT -5
Himiku Atamana: Contact Location: Shores of the Isle of Opportunity, Lexidun Empire
I spent all of my trip just looking at the sea and the natural wonders of this world. You know, sometimes I think there is a land, as big as Karuberia , just waiting to be discovered, but someone... or something, prevents us from venturing out to discover this mad world in it's entirety. Maybe it is the Fazā dēmon , in his infinite machiavellism, who is the one preventing us from voyaging out and see the entire world for ourselves. I have always been a girl that has liked to travel. From me on the rivers of the Imperial Capital of Xoomyo in my makeshift boat, to my trek across the Eastern Mountain Range... it would be utterly delusional to say i've seen it all, but I have seen a lot.
My dog, Zoboku, was wagging her tail excitedly as I was looking at the big landmass originating in the horizon. She didn't know what the name "Opportunity Isle" exactly was, but she sensed I was happy, and therefore, got happy with me. The sounds of the sea filled my ears; even if I had grown used to them, they still seemed... new. Perhaps because this was my first voyage as an official diplomat, working for the Empress, mighty may She be and the Woomy, the One, the Grand? I looked at Zoboku, hoping i'd get an answer despite the fact dogs couldn't talk.
And I thought, what if they couldn't talk? She has been here all of my life, literally. I was six when I got her, and she hasn't left my side ever since. I wonder; do dogs hold the same viewpoints as us? does Zaboku share my beliefs that the Woomy is the one true Goddess? or maybe dogs are too relaxed to care about things like religion, and that is why everyone calls them "less intelligent" than us, even when they just want to enjoy life without stress? I envy Zoboku sometimes. I wish I was her, just worrying about her owner's well-being and if the food they got me would be good. Life would be so much simpler.
But enough rambling. I have reached the shores of the Isle of Opportunity! I knew I would have to land in this foreign nation's colony. I couldn't blame the... err... Lexidun? for having colonies, Xoomia has them too. Though, I heard someone say something. It was not from my crew, that's for sure, but it was from the person in the port. I knew that language, it was 'Common', as they called it. "Hope you are well!" said the strange Human.
I looked back at my crew, who was looking at me confused. I was the only one that knew Common, but they were just people I hired to cruise for me, so they weren't bothered in knowing. Instead, I focused my attention on analyzing this human, which had particularly strange clothing. I couldn't discern anything else of importance. I set up my voice to the firendlist possible tone I could muster; I knew I would have to do so in order to give off good first impressions.
"Hello! It is my pleasure to meet you... I am an official representative of the Woomy's Mortal Domain, the Woominate of Xoomi. My full name is Himiku Atakama and, she," I pointed to my dog who was, as always wagging her tail excitedly. "she is Zoboku, my dog."
By now, I had already jumped down from my ship, Zoboku in my hands, to the dock and up the stairs. I extended my hand, I expected her to shake it in a gesture of good faith.
|
|
|
Post by Chiernarosa on Mar 10, 2020 4:26:43 GMT -5
Lexidun Command Tent, Quijain
"There will be no fear from me," Żaren uttered as he stared at the display, Blair's speech to rally the troops actually stirring a sort of pride in him, "None of Kyras will falter nor show fear, only disgust and just rage against these horrid orcs. When we march to Yrutas, all three of us will ensure that the lives spent today will not be wasted, that they firm our bonds with the Pantheon.
"Yrutas will scream in agony like the coward he is, and he will find us cleansing the rot that chokes our beloved Fatherlands: holy fire, water, and electricity will extinguish his reach, Gods willing." Grabbing his ax, he lifted it up in the air, flames licking upwards as the serrations shined in the light, "The orc hordes shall be exterminated, every single one of their cursed number, the War's reach will extend to all that oppose us on this day, Calveria shall look upon us and smile, for we stand as its defenders."
Looking off towards the direction of the assembled horde, he thought it over, 'A million strong, abilities unknown, and dedicated to defending the Cursed One. We have our work cut out for us: God wills us to exterminate, and we shall provide Him the War He asked for. Our number is close to a million assembled, our abilities and technology an even resource, but tactics will determine how we shall do this. I must take another look.' Turning back to the group, he simply uttered, "Excuse me for a second, I must reexamine the Cursed One's horde."
Walking outside the tent, he saw his dragon standing at attention for him: overlooking its sleek body, he saw the wings tucked against its torso, wondering. He approached, hand pressed against its neck as it nuzzled against him, "Kumpann, irrid nitlob minnkom biex tieħu titjira, għall-inqas biżżejjed biex inkunu nistgħu naraw l-intier ta ’dik il-marmalja orribbli quddiemna." ("Companion, I must ask of you to take flight, at least enough so we can see the entirety of that horrid rabble before us.") The dragon looked at him before lowering itself, letting Żaren mount it, albeit far enough so his legs wouldn't block the dragon's wings. As it began to flap, Żaren saw the horde continuing to stare forward, the particularly large one still looking on with what looked like pure rage, 'I presume the tall fat one is their leader, presumably smarter than he looks: his head will look nice mounted on this ground once the battle is over.'
Żaren suddenly heard a painful groan emanate from the dragon: looking down, he saw it was struggling to maintain the combined weight of both it and its rider, its legs only a couple of feet off the ground, wings flapping as hard as possible. Placing his hand on its neck, he gently told it to land, the dragon complying as it settled back down, letting out a dejected snort. Looking at it, he simply asked, "Try to fly without me." Taking a few moments to catch its breath, the dragon found itself flying much higher, looking down at Żaren as it tucked its wings before settling back down.
'Damn, looks like adding weight limits it from going far, but staying on the ground might be an issue if we go into a charge against the horde.' Looking back at the horde, he snapped his fingers in frustration, unintentionally causing flames to rush down his arm into the air. 'Damn powers, I still have to figure out how to stop those instances,' he thought in annoyance, kicking the dirt. At that moment, however, he felt the flames rush down his leg, sweeping in an arc and hardening the dirt into clay, 'Well, that's new,' he mused, doing it again with his other leg, the fire rushing fast.
'Wait a second,' he suddenly thought, looking down at his legs, partially at the mud and partially at the fact that his pants somehow didn't burn like his shirt did, 'My clothes are not on fire and I felt something in that last kick. The fire from when my abilities initially emanated burned my clothing, likely due to a lack of self-control. My pants did not burn that time, and neither did my greaves nor my sabatons, even though I did not put focus into it. If the fires are based around my actions, it is likely due to self-control and putting thought into things, even if focus is not there. As for the lightness of that kick, maybe....'
Walking forward a little bit, he found enough space near a training dummy, the straw figure holding its arms up in a surrendering posture: focusing, he jumped up slightly, landing normally. Growling, he tried again, putting focus into the jump, again no result. 'Damn, I need to think fast: maybe forward movement is the key.' Running forward a bit, he jumped, now suddenly feeling the heat as fire rushed down his legs, propelling him forward just a little bit. 'Okay, I am getting closer, now let us try stationary.' Standing still, he breathed in, focusing all his energy into his legs, feeling the fire beginning to propel him upwards, initially a few inches, then suddenly two, three feet up.
Closing his eyes, he pulled the ax off from its resting place, letting the flames travel down his arm before lunging forward at the training dummy: the result was instantaneous, the fire pushing him forward, eyes opening as he roared, the ax swinging down as he flew past, the dummy cut in half. Skidding to a halt, he saw the dummy on the ground, on fire as he looked down, no damage done to him and the ax still in his hands. 'Perfect, now let us see if I can get an aerial view of the horde.' Looking towards the horde, Żaren kicked up, the fires propelling about 10 feet in the air, hovering for a few seconds as he saw the horde.
'Looks like some specialist units, range covers the horizon as far as I can see: looks like we do need to focus on defense,' he thought, letting himself down as he nodded, finally walking back to the tent, pulling the flap back as he addressed Bakahn, "I got enough of a view to determine some specialist units, while their numbers are close to ours, obviously. If what you say is true, Esteemed Elder, then defensive measures must be taken."
"What?! We have more than enough men present to take those bastards head on!" A Kyran general shouted, looking outright offended at the suggestion of holding back, "Those beasts are governed by a damn God, they likely rely on him for all their orders!"
"You saw some of the orcs assembled there: there was that tall fat one that stood close to the Cursed One, my guess is that he serves as a field commander, likely relaying orders to his inferiors. If I am correct, then the orcs are more than capable of waging war without their master. If we allow our Brother to anoint this land, that might serve as enough of a bulwark against a premature collapse of the line: we force them to try and engage us, and both Kyran and Rozhai forces can utilize their strengths to cull the initial numbers. At the very least, we need them to strike first: the Conquest Force can shoulder the blows and use the strength of our Warfather to render them dead fast."
"Our fires should be more than enough to engage them, we do not need to sully ourselves to such disgusting tactics, especially with desert vermin like the Red One over there!" The general only managed to get that final word out when Żaren suddenly flew towards him, a burst of flame pushing him forward to those who could see him, a snarl tearing out of the prophet as he snapped his jaws against the general's neck, pulling back in a spray of blood. The general screamed, caught in a gurgling mess as blood flew out, desperately pressing his hands against his throat in an effort to staunch the flow of blood.
A swipe from Żaren's left arm quickly ended his life, the talons ripping his carotid open as the force of the blow snapped his neck: swallowing the chunk of flesh still in his mouth, Żaren wiped the blood coating his chin, looking down at the corpse before continuing in a casual tone, "I am afraid behavior like that will not work out in this engagement: Generals of Kyras, we will cooperate with our allies in all matters, God wills it. Anyone who wishes to protest, I will cut you down where you stand: now, Chancellor, who exactly was this man?"
"Colonel General Salvinu Manduca, commanding officer of the 7th Infantry Division," Kalċidon casually stated, 'Additionally an ally of Vyrodok, or rather former ally: I figured he would complain about cooperation.' Looking down at the corpse, he simply gestured to two Phylakes, "Take the corpse out of here, tell his subordinates that he died in an accident, a Kyran Dragon swiped his throat out after he got too close." The Phylakitai nodded, hoisting General Manduca's body up and taking it out of the tent, Żaren continuing, "Anyways, we will maintain defensive postures, we also possess a number of beast units that can be deployed to attack the horde, but their deployment needs to be done quick and directed immediately, unless you want to have to face down a giant crocodile's open maw full of fangs. Our men also possess some advanced weaponry, such as repeating crossbows: their penetration is weak, but the bolts are poison-tipped, so contact with skin will result in a dead orc. Grenades and eternal flame, a type of fire that does not extinguish even if water were to be poured onto it, so if you need a cluster of enemies eliminated fast, we can deploy a caster to take them down.
"Lastly, a good number of us are mages, belonging either to the Warfather or the Mother, so we have a vanguard with the defensive line, along with medics that can help patch up any wounded if we start taking casualties. Say the word and we can deploy these men and women quickly."
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Mar 10, 2020 20:54:17 GMT -5
Ruby Hollins, Opportunity Island - Lexidun Empire
Ruby shook the hand of the representative with gentle vigour, her smile widening at the sight of the dog. "It is my pleasure to meet you too Miss Atakama and your adorable companion!" Offering her hand for the animal to sniff she then gave a gentle pat on the head of the cute dog. "I am Ruby Hollins, Chief of the Lexidus Expeditionary Company and chief representative of the Empire of Lexidus in its southern colonies."
She turned to face the soldiers and shooed them away with a wave of her hand, beckoning Himiku to follow her off the port. "Apologies for the soldiers, we were caught off guard by your arrival as we had no idea who you were! Come, we'll make our way to my office's terrace and sit in the shade. Per protocol I'm to give you some gifts from my nation to your own."
Strolling together towards the settlement's centre, Ruby continued.
"I must say, if you will forgive me, your kind have a very strong resemblance to our good allies Titenfisca and the squidspawn. Tell me about yourself, your kind and this Woominate of Xoomi."
|
|
|
Post by TCaDS on Mar 10, 2020 21:18:23 GMT -5
Chosen Command Altar - Outskirts of Crusade Camp
Despite the general calm of the front line, there was an extreme amount of hustle and bustle around the Horde’s supposed station of command, non combat orcs quickly pulling together some makeshift buildings from what resources they were able to find in the Tabes. Amongst them stood the Primordial, who along with a servant, an orc who was too young to wield a blade or hammer, were reviewing some hastily made intelligence reports.
“Master, is any of this making sense to you? What in His name is half of this?” The young one ranted, notably frustrated over his inability to comprehend it.
“Quiet, little one. Yes, I understand what is here before me, keep mentioning it and you’ll quickly see how fast they can kill.” The Primordial growled, shutting the boy up for a time. Yrutas’ right hand sighed with contentment with this newfound silence, but it was only a whisper compared to the efforts by the laboring orcs to throw a roof over his head.
“From what I can see, their army is equal to ours in numbers, but who holds the minor advantage in that could be a guess for both sides to figure out. Not that it would matter, such a small advantage would be difficult to exploit.” The Primordial spoke in a thoughtful manner, allowing the boy to properly take in the information.
“So why not strike head on? If we’re equal in number, would a war of attrition be-“ The boy spoke, only to be cut off by a rise of the Primordial’s hand.
“I understand your thinking, but no, it would not. See, a full on assault would be detrimental to us, especially now that they can fly... wait, what in His name?!” The Primordial bore witness to the Kyran flying overhead, wreathed in the fire that propelled him through the sky. At first, the Yrutan general was shocked, but then he was overcome with another feeling, and he burst into laughter.
“Even now, their gods still grant them strength! Such a display of power from one man! Bravo you magnificent bastard, bravo!” The orc shouted, though it was in his own language and it earned him a few odd looks from the nearby orcs. “Um, sir? As you were saying?” The youngling successfully snapped the Primordial out of his humor. And with a clear of his through, resumed.
“Yes, right, erm... ah yes, a full assault would only be a struggle that only they would win, thanks to their fondness of Rigma’s hellflames... that’s why we must instead find another tactic. And so we have, and I’ve conversed this to the Champions, who seemed to agree.”
“And this tactic is?”
“Not for you to know, child. At least not yet.”
|
|