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Post by axeldonia on May 11, 2018 17:05:27 GMT -5
Central Mündngshafen, TitenfiscaThe sun made its way slowly toward midday, shining brightly onto the large crowd gathered below in time’s square, consisting of all manner of creatures from Kobolds to Humans. Some carried large banners and waved flags ranging from regular Titenfiscan banners to those of the Lexidun Republican army and the revolutionary tricolour and star. A kobold dressed in plain brown clothes climbed a small stage. A silence descended on the crowd as they cleared their throat, beginning to speak. “For too long we have tolerated the petty monarchs around our island and their petty feuds. Titenfisca has been peaceful for many years now and what breaks the peace? Some religious demagogue gets delusions of grandeur and declares war on everyone. As long as despots reign, this will continue to happen. Just look in the history books! The monarchs of old trampled on the rights of commoners back then as they do now! We should no longer tolerate this! The people of these lands are surely gentle and amicable, but these petty tyrants have not a care in the world for their lives. We must topple the crowns keeping our brethren in chains! Down with the Crown!” A chant of “Down with the Crown” rang across the crowd as the kobold stepped down and the procession slowly began moving. Various onlookers greeted them with cheers and flags as they went, marching through the narrow city streets, past the parliament building and finally arriving at the Lexidun embassy. The crowd turned silent for a moment. All that was heard was the waving of flags in the wind and the bustle of the rest of the city far in the background. Someone in the crowd began playing a drum and slowly the assembled began to sing, a coup the grâce to their protest. tune:
“Do you hear the calling bell?
Beckoning peace and bread for all
But all the petty tyrants ruling
Will not leave their golden hall
When the tyrant calls to arms
It’s for a greedy, selfish cause
Nothing but death and pain and grief will befall us all
Will you throw off all your shackles
Turn your tools into a spear
It’s only through the strength of all
that all will soon go free
Now sharpen you weapons
The people is going to war
Do you hear the calling bell?
Beckoning peace and bread for all
But all the petty tyrants ruling
Will not leave their golden hall
When the tyrant calls to arms
It’s for a greedy, selfish cause
Nothing but death and pain and grief will befall us all
Will you listen to our message
or will you remain unfree
displaying your allegiance for your fellow victims to see
if not then we tell you the people is going to war
we will fight for liberty
free all the victims from their chains
only when all the tyrant monarchs die
will peace be found at last
raise your voice and sing with us
or join the tyrant and his choir
Whatever choice you make the people will stand up tall!” Yola's Landing - Aeisa'kar“That’s certainly an… Interesting proposal.” Helena gazed at the flag with interest before turning around. “Let me have a quick word with the others.” After a brief muffled discussion amongst the assembled representatives, Helena turned back. “We will gladly join this northern alliance. Furthermore, we offer to accept full administrative responsibility and sovereignty over the western North Star isles in exchange for not demanding any territory nor money from Aesia’kar as war reparations.” Southern Lagerland, Titenfisca“You all set?” Oskar smiled as a fresh breeze filled the white sails of his ship, the Kobold throwing the last sack of provisions into the cargo hold and making a thumbs-up. Last month strange remnants of a peculiar ship had washed up on the coast of largerland, along with finely crafted stone tools and bags of beautiful pearls. Those who had arrived first estimated the wreckage to have come from the south and so it was decided that an expedition was to be outfitted and sent south to discover what lay there and hopefully return the pearls to their rightful owner. There were of course tales of giant grey beast and a people with pointy ears and tails, but those where probably superstition. People with furry tails? Ridiculous. Oskar chuckled and brushed one of his gooey, green tentacles out of his face. They would just have to wait and see. He made one last check of the ship to see that everything was in order before returning to his place at the ship’s rudder. The call went out and the anchor was lifted out of the water, making the ship slowly pick up speed and sail out of the harbour. They were on their way.
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Post by Vista Major, MP on May 13, 2018 10:50:25 GMT -5
Preliminary Meeting (Priotarischemessungeren), Yola's Landing (Yolandieren), Lexidun Annex
Before too long, the grand treaty was passed to the Aeisakarian delegation, with it a magnificent inkquill. Jtkarus cautiously lifted the quill and gave Mira'den a look. His young, furry face was so full of hope that it was like a second sun shining on the room. Mira'den, however, was considerably more solemn, almost as dark as a starless night, suiting her slight seniority over her ambassador-in-arms.
"Have trust, Mira," Jtkarus whispered as quietly as he could, laying his free paw on her shoulder. "Do not consider this a defeat; indeed, it's a victory." Without another word, he carved his name onto the document, and handed the quill to Mira'den. She took hold of it and hesitated. For a brief moment, there was a flash of shame and guilt that washed over her body, as if, for only a few second, she bore the weight of her whole nation.
It was fleeting. Not a moment too late, she carefully scrawled her name onto the treaty in the same runes of her beloved homeland - the last signature on the document. The treaty was then passed to King de Brus, who continued the proceedings as seriously as ever.
The Aeisakarians listen intently to the Lexidun king espouse his vision and his plan for the Northern Alliance. The more he spoke, the more infatuated Jtkarus became with the handsome human, and the more Mira'den was placated into suppressing her more irrational concerns. Then, the Titenfiscan spoke, and Mira'den couldn't help but let out an amused scoff.
"We made no formal military move against your nation," she said. "All the bastard Mar'ar did was send your leader a condescending declaration of war. But, without any encroachment of the former Asakor on your land, it's almost hilarious that you seemed to implied that the notion of us owing you reparations was on the table, making Titenfisca look more generous than it really is."
Jtkarus growled lowly at Mira'den, then put on a pleasant smile towards the squids. "Of course, we naturally take responsibility for the traitor's actions; it was entirely unacceptable. Though, how ironic it is that it helped to bring us all together today. Nevertheless, Aeisa'kar believes that, despite being more than willing to join this alliance to the fullest of extents, we are still in some debt to the North. We do not have much, but the Chief-Protector insists on paying the nations some penance for the Cold War - Fyllia especially. Name your price, and we can negotiate."
"Within reason, squidkin," Mira'den added sharply.
"A most excellent flag, by the way," Jtkarus interjected. Mira'den gave him a look. Terenda Temple (Terendacatadren), Grandara Falls, Svorand
"Remind me of your names, bearfolk."
Governess Hrolend stood at the bottom of a grand flight of stairs leading to an ornate temple colored blood red and jet black. Before her were the two Barskin from Aeisa'kar. There was a tension in the air between them, but it was almost pleasant.
"It's Barskin, madame," the first Barskin said. "Secondly, I am Gregor'vre." he bowed as low as he could without completely kowtowing.
"And my name is Ks'roth," the other Barskin pronounced, unamused by his partner's bow.
Hrolend laughed. "I was just teasing, Gregor'vre! Anyhow, I am surprised - and pleased - that you two have decided to come with me to temple today."
"I am most intrigued by this god Decidius," Gregor'vre said with some excitement playing at his tone of voice.
"From what I've read of him, he is almost a complete compliment to the Great Yrutas."
The Governess nodded. "Hmm, perhaps. Tell me about your faith, Ks'roth."
The Barskin cleared his guttural throat. "Well, Governess, Yrutas is the great provider. He brings an end to that which has become too pure, and he blesses the world with the most magnificent gift ever known - magic. Legend has it that Yrutas, being hated by all the other gods, is imprisoned here on the mortal plain. But, Myratnis, the Holy Mother, still watches over us in the absence of her son."
"Or, perhaps not," Gregor'vre added. "Many of the Barskin have lost their already paltry faith in Myratnis - and even many of the Alkin and Hyarin are doubtful. They could use a new god."
"Or," Hrolend said. "Gods."
Ks'roth shrugged. "Perhaps. But how would we ever synthesize Yrutas and Decidius? They may both represent the darker sides of life, but can they truly become as one?"
"You never know unless you try, Barskin," the Governess said. "Maybe, one day, the two gods will be as one. And we'll be all the more powerful for it. Maybe that's why fate chose to bring you two here - to begin the process of a new proselytization."
"You seem very calm about all this, I'll admit," Gregor'vre said. "This would meant dismantling the entire faith that you and your people hold dear, like we Barskin once did."
Hrolend turned away from the Barskin and started climbing the steps. "I don't consider it much of a dismantling, rather more of a building upon," she called after them. "Follow me, gentlekin, and we'll see more about all this, indeed."
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Post by thevalleianorders on May 13, 2018 17:09:33 GMT -5
Part Two Imperial Throne Room, Edinginia: All was not well in the throne room, even though they had only been there for one day. The whole of the Court was stuck in debates regarding what actually happened when the quakes had occurred. Alexiana, Gabriel, and the Grandmaster were also in the room. Only one day had passed, but the Imperator was already losing his patience. “It must have been a blatant attack of magic by another nation!” said one of the Communal Sees that was a member of the court. “NO, it was an entirely natural occurrence!!” another one said with much much vigor. Another one bagan, “The gods are obviously pun-” “SILENCE,” the Imperator had had enough. “Why do we argue? It has already happened, and we are now facing the results of this disaster, whatever it may be. We must react or face further consequences!” Silence then filled the room. After he had noticed that no one was speaking, the Imperator asked, “How will we feed the population while many farms remain inactive?” “We can utilize the grain doles of the Various Orders,” said one of the Communal Sees, “but we will still have to measure how much of the stores are actually full.” “Where is the Imperial Mytr for such things?” the Imperator impatiently asked. “We do not have one currently.” they all replied, fearful of what the Imperator might do. “Well then, Gabriel,” the Imperator commanded, “I appoint you to be the Imperial Mytr of Logistics. Your first job will be t-” “Tabulate the current grain reserve levels and, possibly, Imperialize them for this emergency?” Gabriel interrupted, much to the shock of everyone else in court. “Exactly, Able Mytr. Now go do it!” the Imperator ordered. Gabriel then stepped out of the room and began to make his way to one of the Belfries. “My Holy Imperator, I humbly ask your permission to speak?” said the Communal See for the Callenian Order. With the affirmation of Aparaius, he continued, “The Callenian Order has already mobilized three legions to aid in the clearance of rubble from the cities and the countryside. Shall this be done by all of the Various Orders?” “Yes. I decree that each of the Various Temporal Orders shall mobilize at least one of its legions for the systematic clearing of debris and the initiation of repairs and reconstruction, if they have not done so themselves. Such shall be done for at least one month.” the Imperator then stated. A Scribe-Ad then rushed out of the room to take this message to be transmitted. “But surely something can be done to appease the gods and their anger after this smiting of their people!” one of the Communal Sees stated. The room then contined to argue about what caused the horrible quake. As this was happening, Grygorie, who was not in the throne room when the meeting began, snuck into the room and slowly walked his way to the Imperator. He then asked, “Why do we not just investigate this cause?” “What an idea,” the Imperator said to himself. He then addressed the Court, “Listen to this: Why don’t we just start an investigation?” “We could send an expedition to investigate these things,” one said. “Why not two expeditions? We could learn much more from this,” another one said. “Why not three? One for each Naval zone,” a third one said. “I hereby make it the primary focus of the day for us to come up with plans to begin these… expeditions.” the Imperator decreed as the Court began to plan. Thus, the Trident Plan was born, and its enactment would soon be seen. -------------------------- Two Days Later Delton, port city of the Bronian Order: The port city of Delton was a smaller but still active city on a river delta, on the westernmost point of the Bronian mainland. Ships from here usually made their way to the cities of the Bellianic Order, but this particular fleet was not a usual fleet. In port, there were twelve ships preparing for departure. There were three Caravels, four Brigantine-class ships, and five Balinger-class ships, each with a crew ready to make their way to the City-States of the Southern Isles. They were tasked with investigating the quake and, potentially, forming diplomatic relations with some of the City-States. “Where is the Aurytyr from the Capital?” the captain of the flagship Natia and the commander of the expedition. “They are on their way with the Crystal,” replied one of the delegates of the Diplomatic Committee, one of the three committees that were on each of the expeditions. “Well, they ought to hurry,” commented one of the delegates from the Investigatory Committee. “Calm yourselves,” one of the delegates from the Ecclesiastical Committee, tired of their babbling. “You see, there they are!” Indeed, the Aurytyr Alexiana was already walking up the gangway, followed by two guards holding the Crystal, and the boy Grygorie. “Who is this boy,” the captain asked, “And why is he coming with us?” Before anyone else could respond, Alexiana responded, “He is here on the Imperator’s order. He knows the coasts of the islands more than any of us here. Now if you will, Robier, let us now set sail for the City-States.” The captain then blushed in embarrassment, then said, “Blow the horns, we shall set sail!” The horns of the Expeditionary Fleet were then blown. The Southern Expeditionary Mission was now on its way. Its destination: the City-States of the Southern Isles. (The Dual Kingdom) -------------------------- Up North: To the Most Holy Colleges of these Various Orders: Two other Expeditionary Fleets have launch two days after the Holy Imperator’s first meeting of the Imperial Court, in addition to the Southern Expeditionary Fleet. Each Fleet’s primary goal is to investigate the causes of the horrible Quakes. The Western Expeditionary Fleet launched from the Welakian Order, its twelve ships provided by a small trading firm of the Order. Their goal is to investigate and explore the lands northwest to the waters of the Holy Communion and to find passage into the mainland north of the Orders. The Eastern Expeditionary Fleet launched from the Imperial Isle, another twelve, large ships from the Imperial Armada. Their goal is to initiate communications with the Realms that are northeast of the Various Orders. The Southern Expeditionary Fleet launched from the Bronian Order, with twelve ships of various composition. Their goal is to initiate communications with the City-States of the Southern Isles. With hope, this “Trident Plan” will be successful in all three of its aspects. It is the hope of the Imperial Crown for these Expeditions to be fruitful, and with results, his Holiness the Imperator will launch further Expeditions to explore, investigate, and open the Empire to dialogue with other Realms. In the name of Life and Death, Myrat yt Decidyi, The Imperial Crown
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Post by Lex Caledonia on May 15, 2018 15:00:18 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Yola's Landing - Aeisa'kar
The Fyllian ambassador gave a definitive and silent nod to Blair, the final seal of approval for the pact. "Then... my fellow Northerners. I hereby announce the formation of the Northern Alliance, effective immediately. We shall sign the flag before us, it shall stay here in Yola's Landing and will represent our bright future together!" Blair beamed with an ecstatic grin as he announced this, signing the flag with grand strokes, before passing his inked quill to the other representatives who followed suite. As the flag laid there, the top 4 stars that represented their countries were marked with their respective signatures.
The summit was then adjourned, with members of staff and servants all shaking hands and congratulating one another. Blair approach Helena and her entourage, making the effort to shake the hands of everyone there, before ending on the Prime Minister herself. "Consider the Western North Star Isle yours, a token of appreciation from Lexidus to Titenfisca for standing with us all these years and making this alliance possible." His face was creased with joy and camaraderie as he shook the squidspawn's hand; before excusing himself towards the Aesiakarian envoy.
Standing before Mira'den and Jtkarus, King Blair de Brus of Lexidus kneeled low and bowed. Bringing himself back to his feet, he stood before them smiling cheerfully. "I understand this is a fretful time for your nation, wounds have only just began to heal and we were enemies mere weeks ago. I understand Torvus' sole ruler-ship has caused some cause for concern and you are in the process of rebuilding. Know this, if Aesia'kar needs anything, help or assistance... Lexidus will be there for you if needed. With this treaty and alliance we will no longer stand against one another but rather, side by side. As friends. As allies. As Northerners."
Henry Bulmer, Mündngshafen - Titenfisca
For the first time in his peaceful, guard keeping duties, Guardsman Henry Bulmer was speechless. He had gained himself an infamous reputation, from the amount of fellow guards who requested a transfer away from the front gate of the Lexidun embassy, all due to his incessant blabbering. In his defence, guarding the Lexidun embassy in Titenfiscan was beyond boring, Mündngshafen was peaceful and its people polite. The only excitement he had ever had was throwing out vexatious exiled republicans and helping people affected by the recent earthquake. Now however, was cause for something exciting; possibly dangerous.
He and his fellow guard were unarmed, why would he be? This was Titenfisca. As his fellow guardsman rushed inside to inform the ambassador, Henry slowly approached the gate and stopped. The massive crowd of flag wavers and people of various races were singing. It was a very nice song, Henry enjoyed listening to Titenfiscan bards at the pubs, when we was younger he too wanted to be a bard and sing songs. Henry looked at all the flags being flown, a sea of red, a foreign colour to him. Henry closed the gate to the embassy, a measly clank which was drowned out by the sound of singing.
Ruby Hollins, The First Island - The Southus Sea
"I see the colonists and construction workers beat us to it?" Mused Ruby, peering through a brass spyglass, scanning the sizeable island a mere hour away from Redan. Wooden huts and even a basic port had been established as tiny specs of people spread out from the settlement further into the grassland dominated island. "I can see why we left colonisation till now, meagre forestation and little wildlife on this island, it'll serve best as a auxiliary trade port for this Southeast Passage..."
"Aye. I reckon by the time we get back the whole island will be occupied and will have at least 5 taverns!" Captain Andross chuckled as he positioned his ship away from the island. "I say we make way to our second and far more interesting destination! What say ye Madam Ruby?"
Hollins turned to the Captain and smirked. "Aye, aye Captain. Southwards we continue!"
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Post by Percyton on May 21, 2018 16:09:47 GMT -5
Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles
King Godred
After two weeks inspecting the countryside for damage, King Godred Crovan and his retinue returned home to the capital. King Godred had appointed a Special Minister for Rebuilding, Gawain of Cronk, and the royal court was now gathered as the Minister finished his presentation.
“And over here we shall build a new and sturdier village hall,” Gawain said, as he pointed to a diagram of a small Sudrias Island village, “which shall not only be able to withstand earthquakes such as the most recent one, but will also be more spacious than the village’s old one.” Gawain paused and looked at his audience. “Are there any questions?”
“Yes, I have one,” Godred’s Finance Minister Nevyn of Harwick replied as he stood up from his seat. “How much will all this cost? While I’m sure the King’s subjects will appreciate this project, our treasury only has so much money.”
“I can give you an estimate later tonight, once I consult with my staff,” Gawain replied, “but it will be just that: an estimate. Projects like this can be hard to pin down with certainty, especially in regards to price.”
“As long as it’s not too unreasonable, we shall pay it,” King Godred said from his throne. “I saw these villages, and while they seemed like quaint and nice places before the earthquake, I also saw that these villages had problems even before this catastrophe. These villages deserve to benefit from this rebuilding, and I think they will be most grateful to us once they see accommodations that are as good as or even better than what they had before.” Nevyn nodded toward the King and sat down.
“Well, if there are no further questions,” Gawain concluded. “I shall be on my way. Good day to you gentlemen, and do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions.” He then packed up and his things and departed.
“Now then,” Godred said as Gawain packed up. “With that done, let’s move on to other business.” The King turned toward his Minister of Correspondence Hugh of Maron. “Hugh? What announcements do you have to make?”
“I received a letter from His Grace Duke Adam. He wishes to visit you at court in two weeks.”
“Duke Adam? Certainely!” Godred heartily replied. Back when Duke Adam was the leader of the Southern Locomati, he had fought alongside Godred in the latter’s attempt to gain the throne of the human isles, and when Godred proposed a union between the humans and the Locomati, Duke Adam helped convince his brethren back home to endorse the agreement. Upon the election of the first Grand Duke of the Locomati, who would unite the Nothern and Southern branches of the species, Adam seemed like the obvious choice. However, Adam refused to be considered, saying his status as the leader of the Southern Locomati meant he couldn’t be the unifying leader that was needed as the first Grand Duke. Thus, Thomas of Brightcastle was elected the first Grand Duke, with Adam resigning all his positions shortly thereafter. The former Duke was now in semi-retirement as a roaming adviser, though Adam occasionally visited old friends like King Godred. “We shall not only let Adam visit,” Godred said, “but we shall throw a grand feast and multi-day festival to commemorate his visit!”
“Who shall organize this festival, Your Majesty?” Chief Driver Burnett Stone asked.
The King pondered for a moment. “You know what? Why don’t you do it, Burnett?”
“M-me, Your Majesty?” Burnett stuttered. “Why? I have no experience in planning festivals.”
“You are a Locomati man like Adam, so you would know what he likes and expects from a festival. Plus, you’re a wise man, and I trust your judgement. More so than the pesky ‘professional’ festival organizers. So, will you do it?”
Burnett thought for a moment, then spoke. “Very well. I shall fulfill this task to the best of my abilities, Your Majesty.”
“Very good,” Godred replied. “Now then, I also want to—“
“Actually, Your Majesty,” Yrutas mage P.T. Boomerius interrupted, “I have a suggestion. I would like to assist Burnett in planning this festival. We are both Locomati like Duke Adam, and I think I can offer a unique perspective that can make this festival truly special.”
The King rubbed his chin. He thought he saw Boomerius give a sinister smirk toward Burnett, but Godred thought nothing of it. “You have a point, Boomerius. I suppose you could—“
“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Burnett said, “I do not think I will need Boomerius’ assistance. Boomerius is welcome to contribute ideas like anyone else, but in terms of the actual preparation, I think myself and Lady can run things just fine.”
Godred was perplexed by Burnett’s refusal, but nevertheless decided to go along. “Very well, Burnett. I shall trust your judgement on this. Now then, as I was saying, I also want to bring up the Eastern Colonization Project. It’s taken a lot of time and resources, but I’m pleased to report a colonization expedition has been assembled, and is departing from Kirk Ronan as we speak. The expedition is headed for the western large island, with the eastern large island to be colonized later. The colonists have already been given instructions on what to do, how to treat the natives, how to set up communications with the outside world, and everything else that comes with a colonization mission. I know we’ve been through all this before, but I just wanted to review ahead of the expedition’s launch.” King Godred paused. “Are there any questions?” Hearing none, Godred moved on.
“Our next item of business,” Godred went on, “is the matter of foreign affairs. As you all know, the Dual Kingdom has been so busy fighting amongst itself the past hundred years, that we lost contact with the outside world. Now is the time to change that. I consulted with my Minister of Foreign Affairs Cian MacBrendan,” Godred gestured to Cian, who was standing to the left of the throne, “and we agreed that Lexidus would be the first nation we reach out to.”
“Wise choice,” Burnett responded. “From the reports we’ve gathered, they’re of a similar culture to ours, they follow the same Myratnis religion, and like us, they’re a mercantile people who are always looking for new trade opportunities. With any luck, we could get both diplomatic recognition and a trade deal from them.”
“Lexidus is a fine nation, no doubt,” interjected Minister of Internal Affairs Rolf de Ronan, “but what about the Mainland nation immediately to our north? The Orders of… something, I forget. They are our nearest neighbor, so they’re the most logical choice.”
“I concur,” agreed Bailiff of the Eastern Frontier and second-in-command of the military Ramsey of Abendon. “From a military standpoint, the Valleian Orders, or whatever nation is in their place on the Mainland, is our biggest threat, so we should send a delegation to see what we’re up against and what their intentions are. That way we know what to prepare for.”
“Your concerns are valid, gentlemen,” Godred responded, “but we haven’t had contact with the Orders since… well, we don’t even know how long, since there isn’t a man alive today who can recall when we had contact with the Orders. They may have suffered a great disaster, they may have fallen into civil discord like we did not too long ago, or they may have voluntarily isolated themselves from the outside world. Whatever the reason, I think it is apparent they have no interest in engaging with us peacefully or militarily, otherwise they would have contacted us ages ago. If they are interested, they are free to send a delegation to us. Otherwise, I think we are safe enough that we can wait before sending a mission to our Mainland neighbor. At least until after our mission from Lexidus has returned.”
Ramsey nodded. “Understood, Your Majesty. All the same, you must forgive me if I put the Eastern armies on high alert until we’ve made contact with the Orders.”
“Not a problem at all. I think we need the armies to be ready anyway, in case anything happens to our colonization mission. I shall also speak with Commander Ogmund tomorrow about protecting the colonization mission.” Godred then got up from his throne and dusted off his pants. “Now then, if anyone needs me, I shall be spending time with my family. Please only interrupt me if there is an emergency. Court is dismissed.”
Workston, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles
Count Philip and Diesalion X
At a small and dilapidated castle outside of Vicarstown, a trumpeter blared his horn to a small retinue of courtiers. “All rise!” cried the trumpeter. “Presenting His Royal Majesty Philip, Count of Vicarstown and rightful heir to the Northern Locomati throne.” While Count Philip’s title was true, the rest of the trumpeter’s cries were a bit more muddled in their accuracy.
When the childless and unmarried Duke Diesalion X of Vicarstown was removed by Grand Duke Thomas four years ago, the line of succession indicated that the next Duke would be a young child named Philip, a cousin of Diesalion (though the two had never actually met). However, both to weaken the power of Diesalion’s dynasty, and to centralize administration so that local rulers would be responsible to the Grand Duke, Philip was passed over and the Duke of Vicarstown abolished. In the Duke’s place, Thomas appointed Mavis Anopheise, a member of Diesalion’s dynasty from a more junior line, as Governor of the Northern Locomati (which entailed almost all the same privileges and responsibilities as the old Duke, except without any hereditary rule). Philip was unconcerned by this, as he did not understand the implications of Thomas’ action at the time, and what the position of Duke really meant, so he passively accepted Thomas’ action, which in turn led Thomas to leave the young heir alone.
Others, however, were not so willing to accept the new situation. Philip soon attracted a loyal retinue of followers, who convinced Philip that Thomas had wronged him, and had robbed him of his rightful crown. Philip, always an eager child who relished at being able to show-off, basked in the fawning of his new courtiers, and with their help, he established a small court at the old castle of Workston, a town a few miles away from Vicarstown. With his courtiers enabling his vanity, Philip started using the title ‘Count of Vicarstown’ (the traditional title for the Northern Locomati heir which had been conferred by Diesalion X, and reaffirmed by Grand Duke Thomas as a courtesy). Then, Philip abandoned the traditional address of ‘His Highness’ in favor of ‘His Majesty’, and then ‘His Royal Majesty’ (even though the Locomati hadn’t used any royal titles in hundreds of years). Though Philip was still naïve and kind at heart, his vanity and pride did sometimes get the better of him, and his courtiers showed little interest in controlling him.
Today, though, a new arrival would supplant all of them in the young Count’s favor. After a prayer to Myratnis and a courtier reading an ode to Count Philip, Philip’s Chancellor and guardian (Philip’s parents had died not long after Philip’s birth) Roderickus announced that they had a visitor. “Well,” replied Philip excitedly, “what are we waiting for? Bring him in!” Roderickus and a couple of guards did so, escorting a tall hooded figure into the throne room.
“Oh? And who are you, stranger?” Philip asked.
“I’m someone who can help you.” The man removed his robe, revealing a distinctive claw-shaped birthmark on his forehead.
“Is it really you?” Philip wondered. “Are you Diesalion X?”
“Indeed I am, young Philip,” the man replied. “It is I, Diesalion, the tenth of his name. I was once Duke of the Locomati. I was a great and powerful ruler, until Grand Duke Thomas –“
“Yes, yes, I know all of that,” Philip interrupted. “But why are you here? You mentioned something about helping me?”
“That’s right, Philip. I have the wisdom, experience, and power to make you truly Duke of the Northern Locomati. Maybe even King of all the Locomati.”
“King?” Philip repeated in amazement. “I’d love to be a king! That would be so exciting!”
“Indeed it would be. Follow me and listen to what I say, and you’ll not only regain your throne, you’ll also become the most feared ruler the Locomati have ever known!”
Philip smiled broadly, and his eyes beamed with joy. “Yes! I would love that! It would be so –“
“Your Royal Majesty,” interrupted Roderickus, “if I may interject, I think you may be moving too fast on this. Perhaps we should vet Diesalion more thoroughly before we let him into court?”
“Ignore him, Philip,” Diesalion interjected. “It’s not like we need him anymore. If he’s going to stand in our way, perhaps he needs to leave?”
“Leave? But Your Royal Majesty, I’m your guardian. I’ve raised you since you were a toddler. You can’t simply –“
“Can’t?” Philip spluttered. “Can’t? Are you saying that there are things I, a future king, cannot do?”
“N-no, Your Royal Majesty, of course not. What I mean is–“
“You know what, maybe Diesalion is right. You’ve done a good job until now, but I think I will no longer be requiring your services, Roderickus. Diesalion is my guardian and Chancellor now. You are dismissed.”
Roderickus was shocked. After his years of service to the boy he considered to be the rightful leader of the Northern Locomati, Roderickus was being tossed aside in an instant simply for advising caution. “But, but, but –“
“Your heard His Royal Majesty,” Diesalion barked. “Now get out! Be grateful you’re leaving with your life.”
Roderickus bowed before Count Philip. “As you wish, my liege. I shall pack up my things and leave immediately.”
As Roderickus left for his private quarters, Philip jeered at him. “Yeah! That’s right! We don’t need you anymore! We’ve got Diesalion X!” Then Philip turned toward his new guardian and Chancellor. “Oh this is going to be so exciting!” Philip exclaimed. “With you by my side, we accomplish so many things! There’s nothing we can’t do!”
“Indeed, young Philip,” Diesalion replied, smirking triumphantly as he did so. “Indeed.”
Arlesburgh Harbor, Arle Island, Dual Kingdom of the Islands
Southern Expeditionary Mission
It was a busy day at the Dual Kingdom’s busiest port. Ships were being unloaded left and right, with workmen carrying off grains, wood, tools, and precious metals like silver and gold. At the same time, other ships were being loaded up, ready for journeys to other islands.
However, one thing in particular was off. A large, strange convoy was approaching the docks. The ships were of a very different design than the standard Dual Kingdom vessel, and the sails were painted in a flag-like design that the merchants had never seen before. The ships appeared to be trading vessels rather than warships, but the sight was still concerning enough that the merchants ran to the governor’s palace as fast as they could. Upon hearing of this strange fleet, Governor Olyn Ovarsson went down the docks as fast as he could to greet the unknown visitors.
Not long after Governor Ovarsson arrived, the ships pulled in, the lead ship docking next to pier 3. The governor walked up the pier, toward several disembarking humans: they appeared to be organized into three groups, plus a woman who was likely the leader of the mission. The governor breathed a sigh of relief at this. At least they’re of the same species, the governor thought.
“Greetings, stranger,” said a toga-clad woman, whose fancier garb than the others indicated she was the highest ranking one of them all. She lightly bowed toward the governor. “We are the Southern Expeditionary Mission, representatives of the Holy Imperator of the Imperial Communion of the Valleian Orders to your north. I am Aurytyr Alexiania, sister to the Imperator.” Alexiana gestured to the three groups in turn. “These are the Investigatory Committee, the Diplomatic Committee, and the Ecclesiastical Committee. Am I correct to assume this is Arlesburgh, one of the city-states of the Isles?”
“You are party correct to assume that,” Governor Ovarsson replied. “But first, allow me to introduce myself. I am Olyn Ovarsson, Governor of Arlesburgh.” He also bowed lightly toward the Aurytyr. “This is indeed the city of Arlesburgh, but we have not been a city-state for some six years now. We are now a city in the Dual Kingdom of the Isles.”
“Dual Kingdom?” questioned a member of the Investigatory Committee, appearing caught off guard by this revelation.
“That’s right,” the governor replied. “’Kingdom’ because we’re ruled by a king, and ‘Dual’ because of the two co-equal components of our realm: the humans and the Locomati.”
“Locomati?” said a member of the Diplomatic Committee. “I’ve heard vague rumors of such people, but I do not anything about them.”
“You will meet some of them in due time, but right now, it appears you have much to catch up on. I suppose news of our unification never reached you.”
“I suppose not," Alexiania replied. "We have been quite isolated all these years, and we haven't paid much attention to the outside world until now." She paused for a moment. "So, the Isles are now one realm? How very interesting. We had heard stories of a great king who unified all the islands, but we thought they were just legends, or some local folklore. I suppose our next course of action would be to speak to the leader of this unified realm. Can you take us to him?”
“I cannot escort you,” said Governor Ovarsson, “as I am busy running this city. But I can arrange for a convoy to take you to the capital at Peel Godred, where you can meet our King, Godred Crovan. My son Mian shall accompany you.”
“Thank you,” Alexiana said as she once again lightly bowed toward the Governor. “We are very eager to meet with this King Godred Crovan, as we have much to discuss with him.”
“Think nothing of it! Now, while I make the arrangements, we’ll set you up with some temporary lodgings in the governor’s palace. Follow me, please.”
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Post by Chiernarosa on May 24, 2018 2:45:08 GMT -5
Kyran-Asilic BorderThe marsh was a flatland of harsh ground and stagnant water. After the earthquake, Tahra had spent 30 minutes attempting to get through the wall of boulders in a futile effort, the tribe watching in childlike terror while both the Warrior and Seer attempted to calm them and masking their own nervousness.
Eventually, she had gathered her bearings after quitting in frustration, informing them that they would have to move west. Now, they stood at the mouth of the cavern connected to the marsh, below them a quagmire of mud and streams snaking through the territory. Scanning the horizon, Tahra saw the faint remains of bleached fungi, the vibrant luminescence having long since died out, along with the remains of animals that had accidentally wandered onto the marsh, though she saw what she assumed to be weapons embedded between the bone. Looking to her left, she finally saw it: the Asilic fortress that demarked the border between the Ahnsijnate and the Republic, carved into the rockbed - gesturing for the tribe to follow her, they stepped onto the marsh.
It was agony: the acidity of the earth was concentrated enough to harm their feet, while the water was stagnant to the point of non-consumption. The Warrior saw the skeleton of one of the creatures, gesturing excitedly and tugging at the Seer's arm: touching her spouse gently, the Seer simply turning to Tahra and releasing several clicks - looking at the Warrior, Tahra silently let out a gasp as she saw the remains of a wyrm, open mouth revealing a spear that had been embedded into the throat while it was still alive. The Warrior was chittering joyfully, grabbing her tools and chipping away at the wyrm, striking spines off the shell on its back, pulling the remains of its stomach plates from their fixtures.
As Tahra approached, the Warrior turned and began to speak rapidly, her clicks and squeaking barely audible to Tahra as the Seer approach, translating her wife's speech with a bemused tone and reaching for one of the spines. The Warrior began to arm herself, grabbing the spines and embedding them into the fungal clubs she and the other warriors carried, placing them onto the few sticks they collected from the tunnels close to the surface and forming spears, or simply fitting them into the slits of her armor. In contrast, Tahra saw the Seer gently slice the thin layer of bone that laid behind the eyes of the wyrm, seeing the small mass of the venom sack and deftly cutting it out, storing it into a leather pouch.
Turning around, Tahra suddenly saw the tribe moving towards the fortress: panic filled her as she saw what looked like soldiers moving downwards, the Seer and the Warrior also shouting in terror as they ran alongside her. They had already reached what appeared to be the main gate to the fortress, the beings being much shorter than even the young mothers, their ears much longer than the others and their skin rather unhealthy-looking - Tahra knew that the tribe would not pay attention to that, their vision was blurred as the glow of tapetum lucidum bounced off of them. She licked her lips as she saw one of the warriors, a female, approach them: praying that the warrior understood the Limba Centrală, Tahra spoke aloud in a clear voice, quietly awaiting their answer -
"Cunoscuți războinici ai lui Asil, eu sunt Tahra, fiica lui Saira, interpret pentru Postul de Comerciant al lui Hai'an. Eu cer ajutorul: am cu mine un trib de nativi din Subteran și cer să treacă prin pământurile tale spre cavernele situate la vest de aici. Eu nu servesc ca un reprezentant al Republicii, ci ca un păstor pentru acești oameni ciudați: Nu vom interfera cu viețile poporului tău și vom cere pur și simplu îndrumare și siguranță - Vom fi vreodată recunoscători pentru sprijinul tău dacă i se dau, și dorim să lăsăm în urmă pe cei care ne-au trădat." ("Esteemed warriors of Asil, I am Tahra, daughter of Saira, interpreter for the Merchant Post of Kha'j'an. I ask for assistance: I have with me a tribe of peoples native to the Underground and they request passage through your lands to the caverns lying west of here. I serve not as a representative of the Republic, but as a shepherd for these wayward people: We will not interfere with the lives of your people and simply ask for guidance and security - We will be ever grateful for your support if given, and desire to leave behind those who betrayed us.") Kha'j'anAzkalon stood at the gates of the outpost, a grim look on his face as he held the pata and shield in hand, his men assembled behind him. After the earthquake had separated his men from the tribe, they moved forward to the east, silently watching as Azkalon made marks in the cavern, often with Valsen abjads. Ahead of Kha'j'an lied the Dead City, Reis'kjan, the main obstacle in returning to Nimir: the Phylakitai had committed murder and what could be counted as apostasy, and now he had his men gather in front of the outpost of the person he betrayed."Men, I am going to be upfront with all of you: we are not returning to Nimir - if we return home, the Republic will have our heads if they learned about the death of the Aven. I have brought you here to gather some supplies, for we'll need it when we march on Reis'kjan." The men began to protest, only for Azkalon to pull out a sand grenade, threatening to detonate it, only for a hoarse voice to shout from above, "Shut the fuck up!"
Azkalon shook his head and threw his arms up in the air, "Warfather's sake," before promptly grabbing a rock and throwing it at the gate, "Hey, you shut the fuck up!"
The sentry looked from above, a balding middle-aged man clad in leather armor aiming his Long Crossbow at Azkalon, "Why don't you come up and make me, wyrm-fucker?!"
Azkalon replied in turn, "Yeah, why don't you come down here and make me come up there, wyrm-fucker?!"
The sentry retorted immediately, "I am going to come down there, and I'm going to kick your fucking ass!"
Azkalon began to prime the grenade, "I want you to try it, asshole, get your ass down here and kick my ass, you fucking shit-eater!"
Before he could finish, another Scorched One appeared and began to curse in Limba Centrală, "Hei, canturi stupide: e seara si incercam sa dormim! Închideți dracu 'și luați-o la grajdurile de șobolani!"
The sentry and Azkalon soon turned their attention to the Scorched One, shouting in anger, "Shut the fuck up, you stupid idiot!" The sentry said as Azkalon replied, "This is a remote settlement, people are trying to sleep!" The Scorched One replied in turn, "Tu esti gunoaiii care fac dificil sa dormi aici: mergi sa mananci cocotii putini ai tatalui tau si sa iesi dracului de aici inainte sa-ti dai drumul la nenorocitii tai!" The sentry fired a bolt at the Scorched One's feet, shouting, "Run back to Asil, you fucking whore! Get the fuck outta here! Shut the fuck up!" As Azkalon joined as well, "Godsdammit," before the Scorched One thundered down the steps, the sentry looking back as Azkalon, "Hey, I'm really sorry," Azkalon nodding and saying, "Yeah, me too." The sentry looked back at the steps before looking at him again, "She's worse than us!" "Yeah, she's our enemy now."
A few seconds passed before Azkalon tossed the grenade at the sentry, killing him and unintentionally lifting the gate opened, the men charging in and quickly set fire to the stables of Flesh Rats: as they screeched in agony, the Merchant and his men stepping out only to be shot down by the katet. Finally, one wizened man remained, glaring as Azkalon held the pata's blade to his throat, "You bastards have no idea what you have done here: Reis'kjan will now be able to rampage freely through the Underground, and you'll become their first slaves." Azkalon chuckled at that, simply stating, "Give me the key to the supplies, Kotek, and Reis'kjan will fall to the Son of Kayros, the Warfather provides." The man spat in his face, Azkalon immediately slashing the man's throat before rummaging his body for the key, stepping back and finding the storeroom.
As the men gathered behind him, Azkalon chuckled in glee as he reached for an item, placing the pata on a belt and grabbing with both hands. Turning around, Azkalon leveled the repeating crossbow in view of the men, saying, "We now have proof that we can take Reis'kjan: men, replace your weapons and restock on all gear: the Dark City is next to fall."
Forests outside Kástro RonanThe tent was hastily-drawn, but it served well to protect those inside. Two Kotek kept watch, patrolling the sides of the tent with repeating crossbows armed, while the entrance had two økesadr kept guard at the tent's entrance flaps, axes crossed and the men watching silently. The remaining camp was hastily-drawn as well, but its residents were as well-armed as the guards, each soldier repairing weapons and armor, quietly talking amongst one another as they feasted on the beasts in the forests, or preparing the sacrifices for the night, the bound slaves screaming in agony as their hands were pinned to the ground by large knives. A hertag ran into the camp, several of the men drawing swords, relaxing as he displayed the symbol of the Champion on his chest, jogging for the tent and displaying the symbol to the økesadr, one of them grabbing his arm gently and saying, "Choose your words carefully: he's very upset at the moment, moreso than usual." The hertag nodded and stepped inside, dropping to his knees and presenting his dusack to the figure at the center, "My Lord, I bring urgent news concerning our campaign."
Atek sat cross-legged on a pedestal, nubile Aegelsen tending to him as they weaved the metal coils into the flesh of his scalp, neck, back, and shoulders, dusting ash upon his figure, or pressing brands into his skin, Atek not even flinching as he spoke, "Aegelsen, you may halt your activities for now: enjoy yourselves within the camp and tend to the men, I must speak to my soldier alone." The Aegelsen nodded as they stepped out, the cheers of the soldiers coming through the tent as the women treated the men well, but the hertag only felt fear and a cold sweat develop as Atek stood and looked down upon him, "Well? What is the urgent news you bear before me?"
The hertag swallowed as he pulled the skin-scroll out of the pouch, the blood and strings of fat still fresh on the back of the parchment, unrolling it and reading, "The latest report upon the citadel confirms that a large standing force has been assembled along the banks of the Tidfadl and the surrounding area: units expected to assist include the Black Cohorts, Death Guard, White Arban, and the Red Mariners, along with a standing force of 5,000 militiamen and pressganged soldiers, expected total is believed to be 10,000 men for the expeditionary force and 15,000 defending Ronan."
Atek stood quietly as he ran the numbers into his head: out of those captured after the fall of Velran, it was an assembly of 3,500 villagers and tribals conjoined with the 2,400 that swore fealty to him, as well as the surviving 1,200 men from the expeditionary forces. Since then, various settlements, numbering close to 170 had pledged support and men to him, while a total of 2,000 men pledged fealty in the claims against the forests. Including all of that, it was still less than half that of the defending forces, and he was losing men to raids against hostile tribes. He pondered silently before summoning a map of the Republic, looking at circled locations marked for assimilation or destruction, standing up and looking at the hertag, "Stand, brother, and listen closely: I need you to gather several more hertag for a mission - all of you will go to the Western Sea and to Reis'kjan, bearing trophies to appeal to the ruling classes. I need you to secure the support and manpower of Reis'kjan, the Arvesh, and the Desert Raiders, the latter two at least enough to serve as fodder before we move in. If we cannot gather their support, go to Nimir and to the Atake and Koven territories: they are sympathetic to our cause. When you arrive at those locations, bear gifts and word that we have decimated their enemies as a show of mutual support. Fail there and you know the cost," Atek concluded as he grabbed the hertag's arm, setting it on fire before coating it with ash as the hertag screamed.
The hertag stood, the ash inflaming the wound as he pressed it close to him, "Your will be done, my Lord: I'll gather the others and prepare to head out." "You can wait until dawn to deploy - gather some rest, food, and comfort from the slaves before heading out. Oh, and also, tell the priests to begin the sacrifices, I'll be out there shortly - tell them to place them upon pikes and douse them in eternal flame, we're holding an attack until confirmation is gained." The hertag nodded as he stood out, a waiting Aegelse tending to his wound with prayers and water as Atek turned back, contemplating the next battle.
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Post by axeldonia on May 25, 2018 18:07:17 GMT -5
Central Mundungshafen, Titenfisca
The song slowly faded and devolved into regular chatter, with the topic of many conversations being what to do next. The same kobold appeared once more, this time seated on the shoulders of a Kouleva to give him a view of the entire crowd.
“Lend me your ears for a moment!”
The crowd quietened down, with most turning their attention to the kobold.
“Some of you may contemplating storming the embassy, burning the building and beheading the king’s lackeys. But this we shall not do. Lexidus is our friend and regardless, our anger should not be taken out on these commoners. If the king himself had been wicked and corrupt, then I too would gladly sail over the strait and take his head. But this monarch is not cruel. He is compassionate, possessing a quality and demeanour most monarchs lack. But that’s beside the point. What we did here was send the Lexiduns a strong, but simple message. We and our republican ways will remain strong and we stand beside them as equals, not as another of their feudal fiefs.”
A cheer erupted across the crowd.
“With our point now surely evident to the members of the embassy, the best thing to do now is to disperse. We do not want to give the appearance of unnecessary belligerence. Now go, do as you see fit, but no one touch the embassy.” Another applause went through the crowd and a sudden shout was heard.
“Victory orgy!”
The kobold rolled his eyes as the crowd erupted in the largest cheer yet, pouring back towards the town square and dissolving into the city like a river running out into the sea.
“Sometimes I wonder if these people are truly pious.” He turned to look at the great cove, noticing an elaborate window of coloured glass depicting the Squidspawn creation myth. His eye twitched.
“On the contrary, it may be that these people are a bit too pious…”
Yola's Landing - Aeisa'kar
”It means much that you show us this level of trust.”
Helena beamed with joy, shaking Blairs hand eagerly.
“I can of course assure you that this trust is well-placed and we look forward to what this alliance has to offer.” The delegation applauded Blair’s speech, but nonetheless a few wary eyes where cast towards the other members of the alliance and as the assembled returned to their quarters the Titenfiscans let out the occasional hushed comment. Nevertheless, the mood seemed one of excitement and curiosity.
Southern Sea, far off the coast of Lagerland.
The stars where beautiful this time of night. Oskar felt the boat gently rock the hammock he had set up above deck like most of the others, allowing them to sleep under the night sky for the time being. he truly wondered what he’d see once he reached the unknown lands. But whatever it was, it- Oskar sat up in his hammock. He could have sworn the wind whispered to him. He quickly got up, skittering over to the edge of the ship and listening intently. He could barely believe it himself, but he swore he could hear a faint whisper over the wind, some voice calling out to him.
“Nyaaaah…”
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Post by Vista Major, MP on May 26, 2018 22:00:02 GMT -5
Preliminary Meeting (Priotarischemessungeren), Yola's Landing (Yolandieren), Lexidun Annex
As Blair knelt by the delegation, Jtkarus lowered his head bashfully, and Mira'den stared at the king with fiery disdain. Granted, Alkin were generally half a foot shorter than humans, but any attempt to lower one's self to another's level was seen as a sign of patronization and disrespect. Especially in the south, where more than a few tribal wars were started over matters of stature.
"It really shouldn't be much trouble, your highness," Jtkarus said, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. "Torvus is a strong leader, and even stronger now thanks to you."
"I just hope you can manage to keep this Alliance stable," Mira'den added snidly but slightly worriedly. "Things in the world are changing, and this roshator band of races may not be enough."
"But, we can be!" Jtkarus interjected. "Under your leadership, with all of our support, we'll be able to fight anything that comes our way."
"Mother willing," Mira'den muttered under her breath with a roll of her eyes.
"Your words of encouragement are far too kind, King Blair. But, nonetheless, we are eager to serve... And, while we're on that note, the Chief-Protector wished to extend to you an invitation. In a week or two from now, Delakarz wishes to have a banquet to celebrate the reconstruction of the city, and he'd be more than delighted to have you. I will be in attendance as well, and I certainly would love to speak with you further-"
"Send your reply as soon as you can, sir," Mira'den interrupted, giving Jtkarus a death glare. "We must be going now. The travel back to the capital will be long, I suspect. Fare thee well, King Blair."
Before Jtkarus could swoon anymore, Mira'den dug her claws into his wrist and yanked him out the conference hall.
"You. Are. Pathetic," Mira'den seethed through her K-9s as they rushed through the city to their lodges.
Jtkarus could say nothing to defend himself.
Palace of the Chief-Protector (Cheftkratkorcastelen), Adkora, Aeisa'kar
Sitting high upon his grand sapphire throne was Torvus Delakarz, wearing nothing but his signature necklace and a rune-stitched kilt, these words reading "retaliation", "fury", and "repentance". At the foot of the steps was a line of misshapen Aeisakarians of all three races, varying in apparent age and status, from elders to warrior initiates. Guardians them was a small army of Guardskin, the most senior of whom, the Hyarin Fvoren, was preparing to directly address the sovereign.
"My Chief," Fvoren spoke loudly, his voice reverberating through the throne room. "These Askin stand accused of treason."
Torvus raised an eyebrow, then stared at the prisoners - they stared back with fearful murder in their pupils.
"They attempted to sabatage the recons efforts by raiding our eterice mines, and we even caught a bold few of them trying to slip into your chambers last night."
Pause.
"Who among you stands as leader?" Torvus said calmly, almost disinterested.
An Alkin raised their head and snarled. "Raska'tn of the Tribe Barusen in the west."
"Raska'tn... Why do you and your followers oppose me?"
"You run a false state!" Raska'tn cried angrily, bearing his fangs. "You keep the High Council abolished, you attempt to pave over the old ways of life, and you even bow to foreigners who would rather see us used for their pleasure than thrive as a true nation! Torvus Delakarz, you will doom us all!"
Torvus stared blankly at Raska'tn for several monents, then abruptly chuckled.
"Ah, so you are democrats? How noble you all must be," Delakarz managed to finally say. "I admire your resolve, truly. Especial you, Raska'tn - to be a leader for such a cause is commendable..."
"My Chief!" Fvoren exclaimed, but stopped when Torvus raised a clawed hand.
"But," the Chief-Protector continued. "You tried to sow chaos, and that is unacceptable. For your crimes against the Federation, I sentence you all to five years of hard labor. There is a lot of modernization to be done in Aeisa'kar, and that means that we needs as many hands on deck as possible. You will be allowed to see your families once a moon, and they will be paid half-wages for your work."
"Why are you being so weak?!" Raska'tn said angrily. "Just imprison us! KILL US! We won't serve a false king!"
"I'm no king, I'm a chief," Torvus snapped back with a growl before taking a deep breath and leaning deeper into his throne. "Besides, I will not be like the Great Betrayer - those who stand in opposition to me will not be killed indiscriminately. Also, you may just live long enough to see the return of democracy to the nation, if you survive your hard labor... Now then, you all are dismissed. Fvoren, these laborers will join the highway construction guild beginning tomorrow at dawn. See to it they have a decent night's sleep."
Bewildered, Fvoren stood motionless before nodding his head. "Yes, my Chief."
"And, before you return to your post, bring in Nod'ren; we have matters to discuss."
As soon as everyone left the room, Torvus sighed and touched his paw to his necklace, which seemed to vibrate with a faint but deathly energy. The sapphire was darker than usual, and did not glow.
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Post by Lex Caledonia on May 27, 2018 16:45:03 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Yola's Landing - Aeisa'kar
With the two Aesakarians withdrawing away from him. Blair breathed a sigh of relief, despite Jtkarus' enthusiasm, Mira'den's disdain was certainly noticeable. He was glad the assembly was over and he could now ponder over other matters. Seeing Helena and her diverse entourage off, Blair stood alone beside the Northern Alliance flag draped table, gazing at it. He had done it. Despite everyone's doubts and tribulations, the Northern Alliance had been achieved. Now all that needed to be done was to ensure this alliance would last, keep everyone happy and peace would follow suite.
"Peace..." Blair mumbled to himself as he lazily ran his hand across the smooth and almost silk-like fabric of the flag. Peace would come... yet why was his heart filled with worry still? He knew, in all honesty. The unprecedented earthquake that ravished lands across Calveria, to which the grand-magisters had remained silent on, a deeply worrying situation. The voyage down south and its objective to allow for increased trade with the Southerners was in action, meaning more diplomatic incidents in wait. What truly worried him, was Leana. A direct descendant of Lexidus the Lion? One who's grandfather was Petre the Eternal, who somehow found the Font of Myratnis as he hid in the dangerous tunnels connecting the abandoned undercities. What did this mean for him... for her?
"Codswald!" Blair called, to which the servant in question responded to and entered.
"Yes my liege?"
"Ready the ship. It's time I return home."
Blair stormed ahead, now leaving the servant alone in the chamber.
...Blair returned after a brief pause. "Oh and erm, also send a letter confirming my attendance of Delakarz' celebration banquet."
Eimear Nola, Camelon Castle - Lexidus
"So long as I am fucking breathing, you will not step one bloody foot in that girl's room!" Roared an enraged Eimear, stabbing her finger in the air towards the noble entourage. Crowley stood at her side, his indomitable gaze permanently fixated at their leader. Madam Mary de Brice, aunt to Blair and de-facto matriarch of the de Brus family and ensuing nobility. Her cold blue eyes were only matched by her blue and gaudy regalia, her face was almost witch-like, covered under heaps of makeup that did little to make a difference. The older woman's expression was a constant patronising mix of disdain and fake bemusement. Eimear couldn't stand her, even on a good day. This had not been a good day.
"Oh Eimear dear... I do wish you wouldn't make such a scene, you are aware of whom you are speaking to? Hmmm?"
"That I do madam, I'm sure you're also aware that I am not only Royal Ambassador to the king BUT I am also the designated guardian of this girl as appointed by THE KING and if you threaten me one more time I will take your wrinkly arse and kick it off of Castle Rock you smug cun-"
"Enough Eimear." Swiftly interjected a stern Crowley, placing himself between Eimear and a now outraged entourage of angry nobles and disdainful Mary de Brice. "Mary, the young lass will be seeing nobody and will certainly not be making her way with you to be paraded amongst your friends."
Madame Mary gave a venomous cackle. "I merely wanted to acquaint myself with the TRUE monarch of Lexidus. I would love to show her off to my friends, very... powerful friends."
Eimear noticed a brief crack in Crowley's indomitable gaze, a twitch of the eye. She balled her fists till her knuckles went white. Crowley merely continued to stare, speaking calmly and clearly.
"I'm sure your powerful friends would just love to stand before the king and the various city chiefs. Attempting forced abdication." Crowley's eyes now burned with barely contained fury, he took a step forward, his face merely a couple of feet away from the Madame's. "I'm sure they wouldn't then have you declared traitorous on the spot and executed."
Eimear was internally cheering, she had never seen Crowley this angry.
"Know this, Mary. You never approved of Blair's ascent to the throne and with understandable reason. He has proven you wrong every year he has been in power and made a fool of you, I can understand you're bitter. A bitter auld witch who does everything in her power to undermine others in an effort to elevate herself above them. In truth, you're beneath us all, not just in the dirt. You ARE the dirt."
Eimear and the nobles were stunned, a guard stationed nearby gasped, Mary's cold gaze now adorning a bitter expression. She pivoted on the spot and stormed away, nobles following and calling after her. Crowley stood there for a while, staring down the stony hallway. A small creak was heard as the door behind him and Eimear. Who turned and saw a small mousy face peek out from the opening.
"...is the ugly lady gone?" Sneaked Leana as Eimear lowered herself down to give her a hug.
"Yeah lamb. She's gone, for now."
Ruby Hollins, The Second Island - The Southus Sea
"Magnificent isn't it?" declared Captain Andross as he and his people set off to work on the ship, cleaning the deck and removing layers of clothing as they did so. Ruby Hollins was melting, they were approaching the equator and she understood that it would get hotter once they approached it, she however found that she had to compose herself with a fan whenever on deck.
"Pardon?"
"The island! Thick with trees, not just any trees mind ye, trees with massive long leaves instead of branches! They dispense fruit unlike ye've ever tasted before!" Chuckled Andross, his bronze face kissed by the sun, barely breaking a sweat. "It''ll be good to food trade and lumber!"
Ruby noted it in her ledger, trying wearily to not get beads of sweat on the freshly inked pages. "Yes... its very good, plenty of resources for trade certainly, could be self sustaining..." She stumbled a little and almost lost her balance, catching herself and jolting in an attempt to stay lucid. "I... think I'll stay below deck and come back up at a later more cooler time..."
Andross chuckled again. "You'll acclimatise eventually Madam!"
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Post by Vista Major, MP on May 28, 2018 20:32:18 GMT -5
Cathedral of the Divine, Adkora Capital, Aeisa'kar
"Praise be unto you, great Holy Mother."
Neavara finished her daily morning prayer, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, casting its golden glow over the capital of the Arctic Federation. From the rebuilt balcony, the High Shaman could see ships milling about the Kata'var Harbour, merchants beginning to set up shop in the new district. On the opposite side of the Cathedral, the metropolis was slowly awakening.
Despite Adkora finally being in the final stretches of its rebirth, Neavara was at unease, especially with the revelation of foreigners in the east, who worshipped a god opposition of their own.
But that wasn't what worried Neavara - she could feel in her soul that Decidius was growing strong in this nation where He was originally unacknowledged, and she worried that her faith would flip without warning.
"Madame," someone said softly at the door. Neavara turned around and was face to face with a Barskin priest - K'lorva. She smiled and nodded, allowing her to enter the private chamber.
"K'lorva," Neavara said soothingly. "Come in. May Yrutas show mercy upon you."
"May He show us the way that's dark and true," K'lorva responded. "What times we live in. Have you heard of the summit?"
The High Shaman nodded. "The Northern Alliance is wrought at last. Delakarz is pleased."
"He even invited the King of Lexidus to dine with us."
"Did he accept?"
"We will know in a couple days time, if those ambassadors remembered to let the king know of try invitation. They return tonight."
"I have faith the Lexidun leader won't abandon us."
"Unlike the Gods, naturally."
There was an unnatural pause.
"The Gods have not abandoned us, dear K'lorva," Neavara said hastily. "Times are just changing."
"Indeed," K'lorva responded, walking closer to her superior, whom she towered over by several feet. "But do you not feel the divine forces shifting? I must confess... My faith waivers."
Neavara stopped in her tracks, rubbing her flippers together nervously. "These are troubling times, K'lorva. There will-"
"Not in that way, Madame! I feel like Yrutas is drawing away from me, but someone else is taking his place, as if the Son is making room for a new god. As a Barskin, I've never felt much attraction to Myratnis, despite Her being the Holy Mother, but I know that this... New god in my soul is not her. It feels like... Death. But it does not scare me; it invites me. They're comforting, and I feel like everything has it's place when I'm around them-"
"When did you start feeling these things?" Neavara interrupted sharply.
"Only a few days ago. And I'm not the only one - Son worshippers and Mother devouts have felt similar feelings. Oh, Shaman T'rishn, what am I feeling? Who is this new god?"
Silence.
"I don't know," Neavara lied. "But pay it no mind for now. Like you said, times are changing. The gods change, as well. I will meditate on this and provide a greater insight in due time. Thank you for letting me know."
"You're welcome-"
"Now, you may leave. I have much to think about."
K'lorva was floored for half a moment, but then bowed. "May the Mother bless."
"And the Son follow Her grace," the High Shaman replied as the priest left.
Then she let out a sobbing, shaking sob. Urista Highway, Dekatria (en route), Svorand
The silver and onyx carriage had no roof, and was drawn by mysterious creatures known as horses. In the transport was the entire Aeisakarian expedition, the Governess, and a triage of Yrutken guards. Despite the large group, the carriage was very spacious. The day was good for riding: sunny with a slight nip in the air, breezy but not so windy as to cause disruption, and the scene from the carriage was breathtaking to the Aeisakarians.
"How far are we from the capital?" The Alkin twins inquired.
"Not too far, Venix and Ath'ra," the Governess replied. "Dekatria is perhaps only a couple miles away."
"Pray tell," asked the Hyarin. "How did you find these... creatures?"
"The horses? A gift from Decidius," Cassara said with some pride, reaching behind her to stroke the silky, jet black hair of the trotters. "We've had them ever since we first moved to this land. They are faster than any foot travel, and they've served us quite well, Xzaren."
"Interesting," Xzaren said. "We've always relied on foot travel or sailing. Even our caravans are pulled by Alkin or Barskin carriers."
"How savage," Governess Hrolend said sarcastically, to the looks of upset and hurt looks of her guests. Her ears tucked away and she looked down, embarrassed. "My apologies. I take it such light-heartedness isn't common among your kin."
"Coming from strangers, at least," Gregor'vre said. "It's okay, Governess."
"I'm glad, brother."
"Brother?" Xzaren inquired. "I didn't know you two have become as bosom friends." He said coldly.
Ks'roth chuckled. "No, we just had a... revelation together." For once, the enormous Barskin smiled.
"What kind of revelation?"
"One that could change history," Hrolend answered with a slight grin.
...
A while later, the party emerged from an autumnous forest and were greeted by a vast shimmering lake. Crossing the large water was a enormous, most splendid bridge made of the sturdiest of woods and metals, leading to a massive metropolis lying on an island in the lake's center. The expedition was in absolute shock at the marvel.
"Welcome to Dekatria, kinfolk," Hrolend said delightedly and with boundless pride. As the carriage crossed the bridge, they passed by several Yrutken merchants and travellers, who both greated the Governess warmly and regarded the Aeisakarian with confusion and suspicion.
"They will get used to your presence here," Cassara said reassuringly. "Just give it time. Word of your arrival has already travelled fast."
The ride across the lake took several minutes, but the party eventually reached the edge of the city, met by a grand Arch and a small battalion of guards. They stepped in front of the carriage and observed its riders.
"Governess Hrolend!" one of the guards said, stepping in front of the others to take a good look at Cassara.
"C'niesra," Hrolend said warmly, stroking the guard's antlers. "It has been a very long while, my friend."
"You speak the truth!... Is this your cargo?"
"They're esteemed guests here to see Akamoro."
C'niesra nodded. "Very well; come on in. And welcome to Svorand, Aeisakarians. May your visit be fruitful."
"Thank you," the expeditions said in unison as the carriage pulled into the city.
Ages passed as the carriage trotted through the crowded city streets, strolling past markets and steet games and outdoor worship services before pulling in front of a grand palace larger than any building the Aeisakarians had seen outside their own capital; it even rivaled the Palace of the Chief.
"We are here," Cassara said, departing the carriage, with her guards in tow. "K'na will see us shortly."
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Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 1, 2018 15:25:15 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Camelon Castle - Lexidus
"He said WHAT?!" Blair erupted, half in astonishment and half in laughter.
Eimear beamed. "Dirt. He called her dirt!" She exclaimed whilst giggling.
"Oh my fuck, what I wouldn't give to have seen aunty's face at that moment! Crowley should speak his mind more often!"
Blair sat upright in his throne with Eimear standing at his side, she had been filling him in on what had happened whilst he had been away. Their laughter echoing across the empty throne room. This was interrupted by the slamming of a door as Crowley strode in, a stern look adorning his weathered features. His voice carrying with it the same level of seriousness.
"Don't think I'm going to make a habit of it. I barely got away from the Noble Assembly just now with my life."
Blair laughed. "The Noble Assembly? What did they do, throw their fancy jewellery at you?"
Crowley sat down at his desk, just to the right of the king and Eimear. "No, rather they threatened to have me and Eimear removed from our position and a vote of no confidence be enacted upon you." Sighed Crowley, slumping into his wooden chair.
"HAH! Not only do I have the people behind me; I also have the merchants AND the city chieftains supporting my reign. I'd honestly like to see them try, I'd probably just let General Lewis loose at the hearing and have him shout them into tears!"
Eimear was buckling slightly from laughter, she and Blair had always adored poking fun at nobles. Crowley on the other hand historically tried to make peace with them, now however he was obviously at his wit's end with their pompous arrogance.
Wiping a tear of laughter from her eye, Eimear noticed a mousy face poking around the corner of the entrance to the throne room, she beckoned Leanabh to come in. The girl complied, gingerly approaching the three of them with her hands held together at her chest. Blair stood up gently and walked up to the nervous Leanabh.
"So." He warmly spoke as he knelt down on one knee, looking at her at eye level. "I understand that I am in the presence of my..." Blair exaggerated a deep breath. "Great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great..." He took another exaggerated breath as Leana gave a small giggle, her face scrunched with amusement. "...great aunt! Well... I can already tell you that I prefer you over my other aunt."
Leana giggled a bit louder this time, smiling.
Ruby Hollins, The Third Island - The Southus Strait
Ruby applied the lotion to her burned nose, it was a Titenfiscan remedy meant to soothe agitated skin that Southus Sea sailors commonly found themselves afflicted with. It was working miracles, the soothing cold swept across her face as the lotion was absorbed into her skin; a welcome reprieve from the hellish day they had just had. They had surveyed the third island with mixed results, the "palm" trees (a nickname she had given to the peculiar trees near the equator) were very prominent on the island and their associated fruit too. They had gathered some to top off their, still plentiful, food supplies but had come under attack by the native creatures in the region. Cats, as large as a horse that clawed at them as they ran past and legless lizards not too dissimilar to a feral kobold lashed out at them too, danger was everywhere. Luckily for the shore party and the crew as a whole, nobody was seriously injured minus a few bumps and scratches, Ruby made sure to hire the best and most competent sailors and adventurers in all of Lexidus. Ruby left her cramped and parchment decorated lodgings and made her way to the main cabin, where she could hear merriment from the sailors winding down for the day. A crew member was strumming a lute and singling along with various others; she recognised the tune as being "Fear the Great Donn", an old ballad about an ancient royal protector who gave up his bodyguard duties to become a pirate.
"Glad tae see you joining us Madam Ruby!" Bellowed a rather drunk Captain Andross who was sat at a table next to Marie Gillespie, the ship's resident mage, navigator and doctor all rolled into one. Ruby pulled up a chair and sat down next to the two of them, taking in the merriment and joining in with some parts of the song. Ruby noticed Marie's amused but confused expression as she tried to sing along with them.
"Never heard the tale of the Great Donn, Mage?" Enquired Ruby as the raven haired woman gave a dignified laugh.
"I'm afraid not, I was raised in Bluxa so tales of the sea are lost on me!" Marie was about the same age as Ruby, with them both being young but seasoned experts at their respective professions. "In fact, I find myself at a disadvantage when it comes to Donns and anything pre-Brus history in general!"
Ruby shook her head in mock disbelief. "Really? Surely they must have taught you something, the Dubhs maybe?" Marie shook her head in return.
Leaning forward, Ruby's eyes twinkled. "The Lexidus lineage had two types of personnel guard from Lexidus the Lion all the way down to Cameron the Deviant. The Donn, which means brown in Common, were the protectors of royalty. They wore brown leather plate armour and defended their lieges with their lives, almost fervently so." Marie was listening intently, arms crossed in front of her, her brown eyes fixed on Ruby's. "The Dubh, on the other hand, were assassins. Ensuring the safety of their masters by killing those who threatened them and who their liege told them to kill. Their name literally means black in Common and as expected they wore black leather as opposed to the Donn."
Marie nodded, politely interjecting. "Fascinating. My studies of the pre-Brus lineage only really included brief examinations of relevant monarchs who lived on average much longer than their peers." Ruby listened attentively as Marie spoke, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You see, part of my studies was to understand the effect our magic has on people. Back when the life span of a person was 40 and 50 at most, some Lexidun monarchs lived nearly twice as long! We found a correlation between the high level of Myratnis worship these monarchs enacted and their long lifespans. King Brus, for example, lived to be 117 years old! We attributed this to his worship and the cabal of elite mages he had dedicated to his healthy lifestyle."
"Makes me regret not going to church more often." Chuckled Ruby, to which Marie responded in kind.
"What baffled me and my fellow mages however, was Petre the Eternal, who managed to live for 104 years; with neither a noted strong Myratnis worshipping lifestyle and a distinct lack of refined mages at the time! Its a case that has baffled scholars and mages for centuries, including myself! Its also a source of speculation and tall-tales such as the tale of Petre courting Myratnis herself, Petre making a deal with another entity or even..." Marie was waving her hands in front of her whilst enthusiastically talking to Ruby, who immediately perked up and interrupted.
"...the Font of Myratnis."
Marie took a swig of beer and raised a finger. "An ancient font filled with magical ichor said to be the blood of Maither Kin'est herself. People say its buried deep underground amongst the plethora of danger filled tunnels connecting the undercities... between you and me, I think its a loud of absolute nonsense."
Ruby rubbed her chin. "It would explain his long life would it not? Maybe even his disappearance? Maybe he found the font and used it for himself and then hid it away along with himself when the time came, as to hide its location?"
Before she could interject, a drunk Captain Andross who was swinging in his chair, fell down with a thud. A mighty cheer erupted across the cabin, to which the two women erupted into laughter over.
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Post by thevalleianorders on Jun 2, 2018 14:53:08 GMT -5
Part Three A Week’s Sail Northwest, Western Expeditionary Fleet: Crash! Waves battered the hulls of the twelve ships as they made their way northwest through an unexpected storm. Howling winds blew down on their sails, tearing their rugged seams and pulling out bits of the water-soaked timbers of the masts. “Make for land!” the Captain of the fleet urged his crew. “Have we any idea of our current position?” “No, sir. We only know that we are well past the Empire; we may be near the shores of the Sylvannic Imperium.” answered the fleet navigator as he attempted to keep his records from getting wet. “There might be a bay that we can head to…” “Stop speaking and point us in that direction!” the Captain urgently directed. A large wave suddenly assaulted the fleet’s Flagship, and those on deck were forcefully knocked down. The low groan of one of the ship’s horns then blared as it attempted to cut through the howling of the storm. “One of the other ships hails!” said one of the Ecclesiastical Committee as he tried to interpret the code of the horns. It blared twice more, then fell silent. “I thin-nk… they’v-” “What have they done?” crewmembers replied as they heard his stammering. “They-yy’ve… found land.” he croaked out. Only a few could hear him, but the crew understood what he said once they saw the expression on the Captain’s face. “Make signal back to them!” the Captain ordered his now exhilarated crew. Seven blasts of the horn promptly sounded back, asking for direction and distance. Minutes passed, and the ships waited through the battering of waves and the screaming of winds, trying to discern a reply. Five blasts sounded back, followed by three, then two, and finally, seven. “Make directly towards due North!” the Captain ordered. He and his crew scrambled to turn their ships. They turned with fear for their lives, for how could they traverse the three leagues of crying ocean that stood in their way? -------------------------- Throne Room of the Imperial Palace, Edinginia: “The Mercantile Orders highly urge your Holiness to lower the prices of construction goods for the people!” said Robyetras of Pharria, the Communal See for the Pharrian Order, pointing at the red-ink figures on a piece of paper. “Our guilds are steadily losing money; the whole of the Ordtyryt can only make enough to buy materials to rebuild!” “The revenue of the Lingenic Order is wholly based off of the sales of these necessary goods; I’m sure the Empire can take a hit to the sale of luxury items while we rebuild basic infrastructure!” rebuted Connatyia, Communal See of the Lingenic Order. Several of the Communal Sees of the Religious Orders agreed heavily. The Imperator ate as the members of the College of Communes continued to bicker. His exotic roast duck with a mango glaze constantly got colder as he listened impatiently to the debate. Robyetras of Pharria suddenly asked, “Your Holiness the Imperator, can the Imperial See subsidize the trade guilds for the lost revenue due to the Earthquake?” The Hall became silent as all eyes turned to the Imperator, waiting for a reply. After a moment of thought, he answered back , “Have you ever distributed goods without pay?” “Of course not,” the Gatzyrmytr (Guildmaster) instinctively replied. “Then I, also, will not pay you to do nothing. What I will do, however, is pay you to deliver and distribute construction materials and other necessities to all of the Ordtyryt. Perhaps then will the price for construction materials go down.” the Imperator skillfully concluded. The whole Hall then maintained their silence for an uncomfortable minute. After the pause, Aparaius began, “You are all dis-” “Wait, your Holiness!” said Gabriel as he bursted through the door leading to the Throne Room. “We have news directly from the Western Fleet!” “What is it, Gabriel, Mytr of Logistics?” the Imperator shot back almost instantly. “Storm has caused the whole Expedition to beach itself. No ships were lost to the sea, but none can sail unless towed out of the sands.” Gabriel said slowly. Gasps filled the Throne Room at this terrible news. “Any dead?” the Imperator questioned instantly. “There were no premature deaths of any of the crewmembers.” Gabriel replied. “What shall become of the Expeditionary Force?” asked Gutnyer of Welakia, Communal See of the Welakian Order. “One of my firms relies on those members and vessels!” The Hall descended into frantic whispering. As the Hall fell into further discourse, the Imperator silently asked for a ledger of materials that the Expedition was supplied with. Seeing certain values on the ledger, he said, “These ships have construction materials in their holds, correct?” “Correct, My Imperator,” Gutnyer of Welakia replied. “They are, however, mostly stones, ballast, an-” “They are to create a settlement.” Aparaius interrupted. The whole chamber fell into silence. Gutnyer of Welakia rebutted, “Your Holiness, how would that help the situation?” The Imperator answered, “They will be able to survive much longer if they had a place to stay, would they not? Ships are scarce, and the Expeditionary Force will have to wait until we can send aid. Order them to start construction immediately.” “Yes, your Holiness,” Gutnyer replied. Afterwards, Aparaius finished his food and dismissed all of the Communal Sees from his Throne Room. After dismissing his many court officials for the night, Aparaius found himself walking aimlessly through the confines of his new home. He paused at one of the many stained glass windows of the wide, carpeted corridors, opened it, and peered out into the city. What a difference of scenery it was from the North that he lived in only a mere two weeks ago! Buildings stood surrounding the Palace, scaffolding and piles of stone and wood filled the streets, boulevards, and alleyways. Canals ferried the few citizens who still wandered the streets at night on narrow boats, gondolas, and miniature junks. The Edinginian Defenses surrounded it all, their ramparts and towers protecting the metropolis from waves of water and foe. He stared out until he was interrupted by the still lingering Gabriel. “Why are you still out at this time, your Holiness?” Gabriel politely asked. “Worried about the Expeditions?” “Yes, Gabriel,” the Imperator answered, “but let us not dwell on that problem. Shall we go over the plans for the canals?” “Of course, your Holiness.” Gabriel continued, “Shall we make our way into the Study?” “Yes, let us make our way into the study.” the Imperator said with fatigue, and they both made their way into the Imperial Study. -------------------------- Off the coast of Veritious, Eastern Expeditionary Fleet: The fleet had been parked at an abandoned dock outside of what seemed to be the Capital of Veritious, yet they had yet to encounter another ship. The capital that stood in the distance was surrounded by pillars of dark smoke. A beam of crimson light seemed to penetrate this air of chaos and make landfall on a certain building of the city. They had been docked for around two days, and the crew of the Expeditionary Force were starting to become worried and impatient. “Let us turn around; they haven’t the courtesy to welcome such esteemed guests like ourselves!” the Ecclesiastical Committee argued to the Captain of the Flagship. “If you wish, we could continue north to find more… sophisticated hosts.” “They may also be victims of what could be an attack by another realm!” the Investigatory Committee argued. “We should enter the city and find whereabouts of the source of this destruction!” “You are all missing the point,” the Diplomatic Committee calmly, but strongly, stated. “They are in obvious need of assistance. We should enter to provide aid to the populous of this distressed realm, with or without the approval of the local government.” “We are definitely going into that city.” the Captain ruled after hearing each Committee’s arguments. “Whether it be to aid the people or talk to the governance, we are entering that city! Prepare to undock, and send word to the Imperial Capital immediately of our decisions.” “Yes, Captain!” they all replied, and the ships began to sail towards what seemed like the docks of the city in distress. One hour of sailing later, and the ships were nearing the docks. Some of the crew were able to interpret the signage that lead to the docks, and with the data they were able to discern that this was the “Fisherman’s Passage”. The twelve ships had no trouble finding a suitable place to anchor to, being that many ships had evacuated during the chaos. They all disembarked and reformed in one of the plazas of the dockworks. They were surrounded by empty warehouses, and they could barely see into the gates of the city. “Shall we enter the gate, Captain?” asked one of his subordinates. “We shall split into two groups,” the Captain said. “One shall go into the city while the other defends the ships. We will venture this city for one week and recollect at this very dock.” “Our weapons?” another one asked, a tad of fear wavering in his voice. “We shall all arm ourselves, of course.” the Captain assured his crew. “Questions?” Silence informed the Captain of all that needed to be known, and his group silently made their way to the gates of the city. “One more thing;” the Captain shouted to those staying with the ships, “blow the horns every second minute.” At that, the horns of the ships began their endless blaring.
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Post by axeldonia on Jun 2, 2018 17:37:28 GMT -5
Docks of Mundungshafen, Titenfisca
The flag fluttered diligently in the ocean breeze as the ship it adorned gently pulled into the harbor. It held the appearance of a regular Titenfiscan trade vessel, but it flew the personal standard of the Shoutai (the Ganohito monarch) and was also equipped with what seemed like a second crew composed mostly of newcomers from the now Titenfiscan West North-Star isles. These newcomers where equal parts Gano and Frougen, as both species where eager to relearn the art of sailing. Following the Great War, both species had more or less cut contact with the rest of the world, the Gano by hiding away in their underground tunnel-cities, whilst the Frougen had prowled the inland swamps for prey. Thusly, both had sent a crew of volunteers on the first vessel back to Titenfisca, with the Shoutai personally boarding the ship with a small royal entourage.
Regardless, they had all finally arrived. The ship gently settled and laid anchor as its crew where assailed by all manner of sensations around them. Dockworkers shouted and hollered across the dock as they worked, loading and unloading the myriad of ships stationed at the harbour. Strange-smelling spices, jewels of all shapes, sizes and colours as well as large amounts of iron where being hauled off and sent down the winding streets of Mündungshafen via pram or cart, whilst all manner of clothes dyed in bright colours, dried seaweed and large amounts of salted fish where loaded onto ships with their destination somewhere beyond the horizon.
Gano Shidosa groaned and turned in his hammock as he was awakened by the sudden noise of brisk knocking against the door.
“Ngh… Five more minutes… Actually, make that ten.”
He groaned in annoyance and attempted to sit up as the knocking continued unceasingly. Unfortunately, he fell right out with a thud and rolled onto the floor.
“Are you okay in there, your majesty?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Gano rolled onto his stomach and struggled upright, finally opening the door.
“How do I look?”
Gano’s white fur stood out in all directions, covering the monarch in what looked like a large ball of cotton.
“You desperately need a hairbrush.” Luckily for Gano, it was the royal advisor that had opened the door and so he was quickly supplied with a large hairbrush. His wings vibrated impatiently as he combed his fur down to a reasonable amount of fluff before stepping onto deck, reflexively turning away as the bright light hit his face.
“Nghaaa! Cursed sunlight. No wonder we stayed in the caves for so long. How do they stand it?
“It’s still a mystery to me, your majesty.”
His advisor snickered, but quickly called for the honour guard to form up as they began walking down onto the bridge. The rest of the monarch’s entourage would filter out across Titenfisca and valiantly learn as much as possible before reporting back to the home islands. Hopufully, the esteemed national university of Titenfisca was a good place to start. As they walked across the docks, something suddenly caught Gano’s attention and he leaned over to whisper excitedly to his advisor.
“A girl! Just like in those books I’ve read!”
“I hope to Myratnis you’re referring to those books about Titenfiscan demographics you read on the way here.”
Indeed, Zabaa herself, the matriarch of the Enekebe realm was standing at the other end of the bridge, flanked by archers in formal armour that glittered in the sunlight. Gano’s hear skipped a beat as the two delegations drew closer and closer, before finally meeting as the two monarchs exchanged a friendly handshake.
“Queen Zabaa, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Indeed, a pleasure to meet you. My servants informed me your name is Shoutai Gano Shidosa VI?”
“That is correct, but Shidosa or just Gano will suffice.”
“Excellent. Now, I believe a tour of the city is in order?”
“You lead the way.”
Gano’s wings fluttered with excitement as he took the Queen’s hand, the pair slowly making their way inside the city. He had a feeling this would be a productive journey.
Southern sea, unknow territory.
“Land ahoy!”
The crew perked up as the first mate yelled excitedly and indeed, a chain of small islands where quickly emerging across the horizon. Oskar beamed with excitement as he replied.
“Anywhere we can land?”
“Yeah, there’s a small harbor on the nearest island, seems to be some kind of vi-”
“Douglas?”
“Captain, I’d tell you what I’m seeing, but I’m convinced you won’t believe me.”
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Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 3, 2018 4:32:16 GMT -5
Reis'kjan
Azkalon looked at the pitiful bleeding corpse of the Dead City's governor, the blue linens covering his torso turned purple as the blood flowed from the bolts impaled into the flesh: turning to face the crowd of City residents looking at him and his entourage in shock, his men either kneeling from the wounds they received or standing over the guards they killed. He was surprised to have found taking the City rather easily: for all their equipment and savagery, the warriors of Reis'kjan were ill-prepared to fight Kyran soldiers, while tracking down the rulers of the city simply required finding a slave that spoke Kyran.
As he hoisted the corpse of the governor up, he saw the old face, the skin-carvings of past wars unknown to the Phylakitai and his men, a soldier long past his prime. Lifting him off the seat leading to the room, he grabbed several bolts and pinned the cloth to the wall, the man's corpse now overlooking his former subjects. Before anyone could respond, Azkalon grabbed a torch and lit the body on fire, the sweet smell of flesh mingling with the acrid scent of burning linen, Azkalon looking once more at the crowd and gesturing for the slave that he had met earlier to meet him upon the steps.
"Translate what I say, loud and clear for everyone gathered. I'll have one of my men write this down and heralded throughout the City," Azkalon said as he cleared his throat, "People of the Dead City, whether slave, citizen, warrior or noble; I am Azkalon, Phylakitai of the Town of Nimir and servant of the Republic of Kyras, son of Kayros, Member of the Senate and Lord of Nimir. I stand before you all to tell you that the days spent cowering in your City, reveling in perverse desires, and raiding the Underground are at an end.
By trial of combat, I am now in control of your miserable existences and as Governor of Reis'kjan, and I will see to it that you serve under my name. I seek th-" Before he could finish, a hertag appeared, arm coated in burn scars and ash, small metal coils imbued into the flesh, carrying several wrapped bundles of materials. Placing them on the ground, he knelt before Azkalon and stated, "I seek the ruler of the Dead City: my Lord wishes to extend his blessings and seeks to reach an agreement between our societies." Azkalon began to walk down the steps, approaching the hertag and reaching for the pata, replying, "I just took control from the previous ruler and cementing my rule over the City: who sent you?"
The hertag simply unwrapped one of the bundles, displaying a map of the Republic, showing settlements both above and below ground, "My Lord, Atek, the Champion of the Warfather, Son of Ten'saii, seeks your assistance in capturing Kástro Ronan before claiming Varan under a New Order, one in which the Warfather may return to us all." Silence laid heavily over the hall of the palace, the soldiers looking nervously at Azkalon, who simply drew the pata against the hertag's neck, hissing, "I do not know who within the Republic sent you to apprehend my men and I, but I refuse to believe that something so foolish can be done by whoever it is that you fucking server. Tell me one reason why I should not have you executed right now?" The hertag simply replied, "I am aware that you have killed one of the Aven, the false children of the Warfather, and for that, I commend you: my Lord has been readily preparing a campaign to cleanse Kyras of the false children, to ensure that the Warfather will return to us and reign in our stead, for His fair hand shall guide us all.
To do all of this, however, he requires that we gather forces with additional groups, particularly in claiming Kástro Ronan and, eventually, Varan. My Lord called for I, along with several other hertag, to court several groups to assist in our endeavor: for Reis'kjan, in particular, we ask that you relegate whatever forces available to engage in raiding activities against the Merchant Outposts throughout the Underground, and to prevent anyone from reaching the borders of Asil," Azkalon slightly shifted as he recalled Tahra, "potentially gathering slaves from the Kyasii as barter for supplies, simply draw the Republic's forces away from Kástro Ronan as long as possible. You will receive support from some of the First Tribes and the Desert Raiders so Republican forces will not fully cause conflict with your men."
Azkalon looked dumbfounded at the whole statement, "So you are basically telling that I must send the men I just laid claim over to instead sacrifice their lives to keep an insane theocrat running his campaign?" Before he could finish, one of the former guards yelled out, pulling an obsidian blade from his jade armor, only to fall as one of the kavan struck him in the throat with his sword, lifting his bloodied face and saying, "Looks like we can use this to our advantage, sir." Azkalon nodded, before saying, "The men you need to be sent out, their martial prowess is not needed, correct?" The hertag nodded in turn, Azkalon finishing, "I will send the men who will not submit to me in the next week as support for this campaign: Reis'kjan will support Lord Atek provided that, if he succeeds, Reis'kjan will remain under my rule." "Certainly, Lord Azkalon, though we ask for one additional favor: the men above ground are often in need of incentive, and currency cannot provide, so we instead ask if you can send some of the women in Reis'kjan as servants of pleasure for the soldiers." "So, in essence, sex slaves?"
"Correct, my Lord. Will there be any issue?" "Actually, I will send the first group of slaves above ground with you, the noblewomen assembled right here: I have no doubts that the men above will earn a good fuck from these whores." "A most excellent proviso, my Lord: I have some men near Vas'kalan, they will retrieve the servants and they'll ensure that they arrive at their destinations." The women began to protest, only for Azkalon to fire at a nobleman close by, silencing them as the servant repeated the orders.
Varan
Xalkayr sat at the table as several lesser generals and admirals reported to him concerning the defense of Ronan, particularly noting the map of the delta: large sections of the Tidfadl had been lined and prepared by the commanding officers of the Death Guard and Black Cohorts, alongside a secondary line watching over a field, manned by the White Arban. Guarding Ronan proper, both the settlement and the fort, the Red Mariners alongside the 13th Mariner Company, both units assisted by the local militia. "What are we looking at concerning the perimeter, particularly the opposition and the lands east?"
"General, not so well," One of the admirals stated as he pulled a skin-scroll out, a sketch of tribal markings and black markings, "The black marks indicate what little information we could gather from the rebel leader: all our scouts were killed before they could gain sufficient information of the camps, but from those we gather that storming the camp is nigh-impossible unless we gather all cannons available in the Republic, impossible if the attack occurs within the next Cycle, or risk high casualties from the forces gathered at Ronan. We have additional information that the rebel leader has sent emissaries to certain tribes marked in the east, particularly the Koven and Atake tribes." "He is essentially trying to court those tribes and settlements which have had cold relations with us, from the appearance of it all: send a unit from the Army to keep watch on Nimir, Eustan, and Tradlfan - if anyone coated in ash or metal and shouting the praises of a 'Champion,' the men stationed there have orders to kill on sight. As for the tribes, I am considering disciplinary measures be taken to them: you may leave the room, gentlemen."
The officers nodded, leaving the room as the members of the Falanx finally inquired, "Xalkayr, what are you planning with the tribes?" Rein'tan, the youngest man on the council, "Well, young one, it is slowly becoming clear that we are at fault with this as well." "I told all of you: the revolt would occur in Nimir, that the peasants would rise up." "Selax, it is more than peasants rising up," Xalkayr stated as he sighed, "The Pilnvaras is slowly becoming outdated: too many tribes, too many settlements have taken their autonomy for granted, attempted to violate the very ideals the Allfathers declared in the Foundation of the Republic. I propose that we begin the centralization of the Republic, revoking the autonomy statute that many lords and tribes hold, and appointing individuals to govern the territories."
"Now wait just a minute!" Selax shouted, "We cannot infringe on the traditions that our ancestors gave to us in Foundation! Now, yes, there is an insane rebel running about committing blasphemy and crimes that no soldier should ever commit, but we cannot just erase what we've kept going for years now!" "Selax, I am aware that this is hard for all of us: we swore, in the name of the Pilnvaras, to defend it and the Republic as a whole, but we cannot just steadfastly hold on to the past - it took a war and the Warfather's liberation of the old gods to get us to move from the decadence of our ancestors. We are looking at the same thing once more, and if we do not act, we may very well see the dissolution of the Republic as a whole and an end to the Kyran race. I propose, as a first step, the dissolution of the Koven, Atake, and Vosten tribes: I am aware that they are among the First Tribes to declare fealty, but they have long been a threat to their surrounding populations - I consulted with several other tribal leaders and they approved the dissolution of the aforementioned, so I move to a vote on dissolution." The men voted slowly, cautiously, Selax indicating opposition by hitting the table with his sword, "Order passes with slight opposition: I will deliver the order personally and move for dismissal." The men nodded, Xalkayr walking out, only to bump into the hertag from the previous meeting, "Ah, youngblood, I was actually wanting to speak with you: how are the wounds holding up?" "They are fine, General, but my colleague, not so much," The hertag said, looking down, Xalkayr swearing he saw tears beginning to streak down. "My brother, tell me, what have the Aegelsen gathered from their sister?" "She had seen sexual abuse, multiple times by that bastard's men, just like the other Aegelsen that were trapped with him: she entrusted herself to me, but she cannot sleep out of fear, she screams in the night, and the waters her sister give are not enough to wash the wounds in her mind." Xalkayr paused, only to steel his resolve, "Tell the Temple sisters that if they require any amenities, I will gladly grant my personal quarters and holdings so that the Sister may gain some comfort: from the looks of it, she trusts you, brother - stay strong and protect her. I will make certain that Atek den-Ten'saii will pay for the crimes he has committed against the both of you, the abused, and the Republic."
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Post by yukona on Jun 3, 2018 15:39:00 GMT -5
Atop a fierce crag of limestone rock the settlement of Rannikuloss guards the mouth of the River Mähis, its three black stone turrets towering above the imposing crenelated ramparts. A small road winds elegantly up the deathly pale cliff face to a large portcullis and gate of pine, reinforced with intricate metal work. Inside the initial outer wall a small village is situated, quoted by Elmar the Devout in his survey The Charter of Jaan (562 PE) as holding a forgery, a shrine and sanctum - dedicated to the forest spirit Tapi, a refectory, a dormitory, a town hall and an inn renowned for its mead. Beyond this immediate forecourt is an inner keep, within which lies the quarters of the lord and accommodation for his family and people. The keep is said to be covering a large cavern, rumoured to have a large source of drinking water. Outside of the castle lies a small ring of fields no larger than a mile or two, and beyond that stretches thick forest until the fens of Tumemets.
A message reached King Hardo's court, informing him that a wave of unimaginable size had been sighted approaching from out to sea by the castle's watchmen. Upon further correspondence, the court was summoned to lend an ear to a local blacksmith - Sass, son of Kalju. Sass lived on a small sheep farmstead outside of Rannikuloss, a property his family has owned for 300 years. He claimed he was inside the castle on that very night, delivering a package of wares to the local priest in the aforementioned sanctum of Tapi. He explained he saw the wave approach off the sound at Tavast Point, and that had he not retreated with immediate haste to the upper floors of the keep, he would have lost his life. Upon hearing the dire news of the disaster at Rannikuloss, the King along with his huskarl (housecarls) and two jaarli (earls) - Tõnu, Earl of Mägipääs and slayer of the dragon known as Karmatu; and Lembitu, son of Olav and Earl of Rajamaa and the Northern Hinterlands.
Approaching RannikulossKing Hardo lifted his ornate helmet off his head, taking care not to let his long beard get trapped in the hinge of the cheekguards - a pain he had made a habit of, ever since he purchased the new helm from a trader at the market in Peko. He squinted as the piercingly cold wind roughly caressed his weathered face, grabbing his horse's reigns and bringing it to a slow trot. His entourage matched his speed, the Jaarli of Mägipääs coming alongside him, he allowed himself a thought of laughter at the build-up of snow in the creases of the man's lavish cloak, opulently embroidered with a symbol of a swan and egg, the arms of House Joutsenjärvi he noted. Impressed with his own memory and knowledge of his brethren's heraldry, he failed to notice that the Jaarli's dramatically blue eyes were locked on his.
"What is it, brother? If a look could move stone then you'd make good coin as a miner," Hardo remarked, giving his horse a pat as it struggled through a particularly snowy section of the road.
"I apologise, my lord, but something troubles me greatly," he paused, staring off into the moonlit distance for a brief moment before returning his gaze to meet Hardo's. "Please, I beg you to allow me to speak freely in your presence."
"Go on, friend - you know your advice has always been worth a great deal to me, and your company on this journey is of great importance," Hardo replied, furrowing his brow in curiosity.
"Hardo, this so-called wave, I heard from the maid at the Whispering Wizard (a tavern in Peko's financial district, frequented by the nobility) that it was bigger than anything a kraken or the like could produce. If this is true, then what that smith attested to at court troubles me deeply."
Hardo laughed for a brief moment, "you spend too much of your time drinking and peering into that young girl's sweet face," he replied, slapping his belly, "do not tell me that the man who slayed the unholy Karmatu at Kaupo's Redoubt on that Midsummer eve (Hardo accompanied him on this venture) is troubled such a trivial courtly matter! Regardless, you know I value your loyalty, Tõnu. Speak freely, I shall not hold you to it."
"My Lord, if it is not a simple kraken then what could it possibly be? Sea serpents haven't been sighted off of Tavast Point in an age, we both know they prefer the colder waters to the north. If not a beast of the sea, then what could it possibly be! You said it yourself, we are not dealing with something as simple as a good kraken hunt, here. By the gods, if what the fieldhands are saying is true, this wave reached the tip of the Must Torni (The Black Tower, the tallest spire of Rannikuloss); this is no capricious tide, this runs much deeper than that, surely?" he propositioned.
"Your concerns do not fall on the ears of the deaf, Tõnu, remember this. Once we get to Rannikuloss we shall summon the Lord and his men and ask them for their account of the situation. Regardless of speculation, their word will settle this matter and we shall proceed from there. Hold faith in your own judgement, friend, and do not subject your mind to the madness of the rumours that flow from the mead-stained mouths of drunkards", the King replied - pulling out his pipe and coming to a brief halt to allow a servant to provide him with flame. He puffed on it, watching the smoke curl elegantly in-front of his face in the cuttingly brisk air.
Tõnu laughed agreeably, "you are right as always, my Lord - you know how these things trouble my mind at night. By all means, we shall leave this discussion until we reach the castle, however I must ask you this: if what they say is true, then what is it exactly you plan to do."
The King shot a look at the Jaarli, before coming to the conclusion that his peace of mind was worth the effort of an answer. "Tõnu, we will raise the men of the town and send a runner to Peko to order the Home Fleet to set sail for the southern coast. Upon discussion with the Lord at Rannikuloss, we will motion for an audience with the elders at Pühataarn (Pühataarn was a mountain pass to the north-east of Peko, within which the holiest site in Ukko was situated - a conduit to the netherworld and the aether) and bring our questions to them".
The Jaarli made a simple nod, and brought his hand to his chest in a sign of respect, ushering his horse into a gallop and approaching the front of the column. Hardo mused on what his friend had just brought to his attention, and allowed his thoughts to wander deep within the recesses of his mind. He too felt troubled, although telling Tõnu this would not help his health, nor make the situation any better. He regained control of his head, turning up his collar and gazing across the snow-covered landscape, white droplets fluttering around him erratically. Either side of him the seeping darkness of the woods drew his eyes in, as the motion of the horse gently rocked him to sleep. The troops had begun to light torches, and the yellow of the fire did little to penetrate the night, doing little more but illuminate, lick and flicker the nearby trees. He was feeling tired, and they had already been riding for three days, their destination should be no further than this.
"Halt!" he called out to his companions, "we stop here for camp and make for the castle in the morning!" he said. He was glad to be stopping, his groin was as rough as a horse's arse, and he longed for his bed and his wife's warmth. Despite this, he knew thoughts of tomorrow would not do anything well for his sleep, and once more his attention was brought back to the issue at hand. Deeply, he wanted to continue - to make sense of this madness plaguing his court as soon as possible and be rid of it. In the distance, a song danced through the thicket, eerily seeping its way into his ears. The voice was like that of an old friend and a lover, one with both authority and compassion. Whilst dismounting he exchanged looks with his Court Scryer, Toivo. "The forest spirits are wishing us a good night, father," he said as he reaffirmed returning the priest's gesture of greeting.
"They're warning us, my Lord." he replied, curtly.
Hardo did not need him to underline the obvious, he already knew. As the soldiers rushed around to hurriedly prepare the King's campsite in a clearing to the left of the road, he gazed at the myriad of stars hanging delicately above his head.
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