|
Post by Unfallious on Jun 3, 2018 18:32:23 GMT -5
"The Arx, in ruins. Arms Quarter, overrun. Docklands, abandoned. Presumed overrun. Crown Quarter, partially overrun. Temple Quarter is the only thing standing between us and the loss of Amnest."
"What about reinforcements?"
"The Viceroyalties have all answered the call, your Majesty, and the banners have been raised, but the mustering of forces has been slow and the first reinforcements won't arrive for several more days."
The King frowned, and stared off into the candle light. He watched as the flames cast shadows that danced across the dimly lit walls of the archbishop's chambers. In the week since the corruption of the Beam, this chamber had become his war room. Religious scrolls and ancient texts had been cast onto the floor, the tables they once sat on now adorned with military equipment, maps of the city, inventories of the arms warehouses that they could no longer get access to. The King had been lucky, although the palace had been struck quick, his whole family had been able to escape, and now took residence within the walls of the Grand Temple of Zypnac. Of course, the Petyr knew that lucky had nothing to do with his escape, his household guard had been decimated. Only a few good men remained. The wider city guard had also been subject to heavy losses. In the opening days of the ungodly invasion confusion had ruled the city. Many members of the city guard had simply lost heart and fled, or died trying to protect the arms warehouses. Nobody had known what they were doing. The horrors that had come out of the portal seemed to die like men, but they resembled nothing mortal. They fought with claws and tentacles and inhuman spikes that sprouted from fleshy growths. The scenes these creatures had orchestrated flashed across the King's mind as he stared into the flame, he knew that they would stay with him until his dying breath.
"Your Majesty?"
Petyr was brought back to reality. He looked up to see the Captain of his Household Guard, Ser Carl Hansen staring back at him. The King didn't know who he was. He must've been the 7th soldier to take the position in the days since the incursion. It had gotten so bad that Petyr himself had had to make the Heads of the Household Guard and the City Guard a single position as they had kept losing men. No doubt Ser Hansen would die bravely soon.
"What our are options, Captain?" The King asked, wearily.
"Frankly, your Majesty, there aren't many. We need the contents of the warehouses. Acarack armour is scarce, the men are all mostly down to using leather and we're down to plain steel weaponry. But it seems every time we try to push our foothold in Crown Quarter-"
"They start to press our flank from the Arx. I've heard this all before, Captain. I asked for our options."
Hansen frowned and was silent. He looked down at the map for several moments. His hand gently stroking his lightly-stubbled chin.
"What if we've been going about this all wrong?" he said after moment, "What if instead of trying to push into Arms Quarter from Crown, we go through Arx?"
The King raised his eyebrows at the man, "But that would take you right past the Palace. The whole inner-wall area is swarming with them."
"I don't think so, your Majesty. If that portal has been pumping out those beasts constantly all this time this entire city would have fallen days ago. I reckon it stopped. And I think if we push Arx, they won't be expecting it. We can cut off Crown, allowing us to push there, and then loop down into Arms and secure the warehouse."
Petyr wasn't convinced, but they were fresh out of options.
"Ready your men, Captain. We strike at first light."
*** Insignas protested as best he could, but he was powerless to stop the soldiers from marching him up and out of the city. For all the effort he had gone to, it appeared that it had all been in vain. His message had been relayed, but how could he know that it would get to the highest authority? For all he knew it would get lost in the same chaos unfolding around him. As he tried to locate his horse, now outside of the city, he couldn't help but feel dejected. He had become invested in delivering this message, in fulfilling his duty to his King, but as well as that he had become interested in the Kyasii, in this unusual and mysterious people. Just as he thought he could come to understand them, and just as they seemed to be warming to him slightly, he had been shut out.
And it was to their detriment. It was to the detriment of Insignas' home too. This could not be the end. As he got back on his horse, Jacobi knew he'd be back. Whatever strife infested the Kyasii Domain was nothing compared to the threat that now loomed above.
**** 1 week later **** The Docklands, Amnest
A silence loomed heavily over the Docklands. The large steel-cast gates that framed the long docks lay open. Uguarded. The docks themselves were abandoned. Nothing seemed out of order, boxes stood piled up on one another by the warehouses, and everything seemed neat and tidy. It was just empty. The only sign of disorder was the looming oppressive Sapphire Palace which reached far up into the sky. Parts of its structure had fallen away, and smoke continually billowed out of the holes, with the flickering light of flames peeking out occasionally. Above it all, a thick beam of crimson light shot straight through the top of the palace. It looked like a stream of blood from the heavens. Elsewhere, smoke rose above buildings and the passage out of the Docklands and into the city proper looked dark and foreboding. The passage way through to it almost looked like the mouth of a cave, but instead of walls and ceilings of rock there were houses and shops that seemed to eat the sunlight from so that the only thing lighting the way were a series of rudimentary oil streetlamps, many having long since gone out without the maintenance of the city's lamplighters.
|
|
|
Post by Andromitus on Jun 5, 2018 0:07:21 GMT -5
Jodenhaur Farming Regions, Ixthenpijn Thaur
• • • • • • • • One Week Earlier • • • • • • • •
“Xaikit, Vauk,” the Commander called out, out of the corner of her eye she saw the crowd of people parting, “you two need to see this.” Behind the man, obviously a Warrior Caste by his armor, the crowd of men parted and two others, dressed similarly moved up to meet him, both stopped when they saw the scene. Some lone Laborer-Caste Girl, a Warrior-Caste corpse with its chest ripped off, purple-red blood pooling onto the ground, and the body of a long-necked monster; very large, and very, very dead. One of them removed their facemask, revealing the scarred face of a woman; “Aēl…what-what happened here?” Alzeih took a hesitant step back, her heart pumping wildly, cold sweat trickling down her neck. What was happening? Her entire chest felt alive, her breathing grew irregular. This wasn’t just some small patrol stumbling across her, it looked like an entire battalion. A whole stream of people began to appear on the hill above her before four others stepped forward, their Armor marking them clearly as people of high-stature. The Commander in front of her, a squat man in similar armor, slid his faceplate from the rest of his helmet revealing deep brown-eyes and a thick beard — religiously and culturally required amongst the upper-caste. “How.” The third, most likely Xaikit, asked flatly. It took her a moment but Alzeih suddenly realized that all eyes were on her, “I-I,” she glanced down at her Khapez and walked over to the corpse behind her, and gestured to the crease in between its neck and its body, “Here, the muscles tensed when I hit it and were easy to cut through. Uh,” she glanced back to the three dumbfounded Warrior-Caste, “I-I didn’t expect it to work either I guess.” Xaikit turned to face the others, “A’yill? Should we take her to the camp?” A’yill, the first man to speak, contemplated his options for a moment, “We have to.” “But she’s a woman. Lower Caste—“ “Vauk look at what she did, and are you not a woman?” “Lower-Caste Women have their duties, Upper-Caste have our own. Besides, if we’re to meet up with the Aeshkell’s men we’ve got to keep moving north.” “She’s right, A’yill, the moment the frontline falls the Horde will be in breathing distance of Volthazaan, we have to be ready to counterattack.” The North? Alzeih thought, her face shifting into a look of horror, “Where are you coming from?” she burst out The three looked at her in surprise, “Thats none of your—“ Vauk was silenced by a hand wave. “We’re moving to reinforce the North; we’re coming from the Eastern Gate.” She looked confused, had they never seen a map? “The North? But there’s no way the Horde would get there.” A’yill cocked his head to the left, narrowing his eyes. “Explain?” “I mean, there’s no way, with Yuln stuck in the center dragging the Horde down, and with all the soldiers ahead of Volthazaan; the South are lowlands, easy to travel through; it’s also right by the river. And as obvious by that,” she gestured to the beasts corpse. “A’yill you cannot be serious—“ Vauk started, but she was cut off from a look from her superior officer. “Come on then.” A’yill stated gruffly, turning around, “I’ll need you to tell the General what you told me.” “Excuse me?” The man didn’t respond, “Sh’kroff, send word to Zanilya that we’re moving to reinforce her position. Attention! We’re moving out!” And with that and a bit of confusion, the three of them set back to meet with their troops. Alzeih looked at the man with a mixture of wary and shock; h-had she just been conscripted? She looked back at the corpse of the creature she’d just beheaded, red-purple blood was gushing from the base of its neck, or at least what was left of it. Behind it was what she was looking for, the soldiers corpse she’d ‘borrowed’ the sword from — one mustn’t waste. The soldiers turned around to see her running up to them adjusting the gauntlets and boots she’d pilfered from the corpse; a bronze-leather helmet covering her bald-head, a thick metal band below her left shoulder conveniently covering the diamond-tattoo marking her Caste. They didn’t question it, and within a few moments they crested out of the fields below and onto the main road overlooking them, from their the view of Ixthenpijn came into view. In the southern distance was the Cavern wall, to the west was one of the Central-Caverns many hill-sized rocky pillars. The glowing blue-green of the river cut through the cavern floor. “Well Girl, if you’re right about this then our first move should be to meet up with the other Battalions, and you’re sure its the South? Who knows where these animals could end up.” The Commander spoke quietly, who knew what other monstrosities broke through the frontline. “Which battalions are in this region?” she started, “I mean, if the Horde is breaking through the, er, the frontline, then they’d be forced into the South. You said it yourself, they’re animals. If they’re just charging then they’re probably going to go the easiest route.” “And what if they’re charging for Jodenhaur?” “That’s where your second line is right?” Alzeih continued as they marched forward, she was less then used to people listening too her, “then the Horde is met with the same problem, North or South. And in both cases South is simply the easiest and gives them a clear encirclement.” She paused while the Commander pondered his options. Was he really going to listen to her? Some Lower-Caste oil keeper? “Hmm; We’ll have to shoot for the 2nd and 8th then, they’re the ones stationed along the farming plains.” Alzeih stopped for a moment, images of Ixthenpijn flooding into her head. They could cut through the farms to meet them then? There was a clearing if they…of course. “There’s a pocket of Caste-Housing if we cut through there,” she pointed to a thin pathway running along the hillside looking over the farming plots below them, “they’re built around a dockyard for grain shipments, and if the Battalions aren’t their we can move further west.” The two other Warrior-Caste in their group looked at each other, none of the other conscripts said anything. “Fine,” the commander said and they began their trek North. Alzeih adjusted her helmet and followed suit. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The roar of Fire-Breathers pounded in the back of her head, a plume of smoke growing the distance. Each barrage complemented by a static crack, and a flash of purple. Ahead of them, 6 towers marked their destination; housing columns, like the ones she lived in in the Western Farming Regions. They were tall, almost 25 meters, torches illuminating the figures of scouts along their rooftops. Passing through the brush lining the complex, the entire battalion, 65 men in all, crossed the small open field, their commander stepping forward to meet one of the Soldiers from the other battalion. They spoke for only a moment before he turned back around, pointing to Alzeih; “You, with me.” She managed to nod before following him, Aēl help her if she was wrong about this. The commander and her were escorted up the Column before they reached the rooftop, greeting the other commander and a lodge of marksmen looking toward the river in the distance. “Commander Alkahm.” A’yill Saluted the woman in front of them. She, like him, was in partial armor —body armor made of gambeson and chitin.— her eyes a sparkling blue, a scar running along her right cheek. “A’yill. Shouldn’t you be in the north?” “That’s what I believed,” he gestured to Alzeih, her face paled as the other commander looked her up and down, “this one believes otherwise.” There was a look of confused shock in the Commanders eyes as she looked at A’yill, “A-and you listened to her? Some, abandoned…what, a Navigator-Caste?” Allzeit blushed, she was glad for the metal band on her arm, she could only imagine this woman response if she knew she was…well, who she was. “She killed one of them, Alkahm.” A’yill said softly, “On her own, she took a long-neck down.” There was a moment of silence as Commander Alkahm double-took, glances from the archers and spotters surrounding them on the rooftop made her want to bury her head in the ground. “We just found her, and she pointed out what seemed like the obvious.” “What? What did she…what did you say?” Alzeih could feel rows of eyes on her, “The Black-Horde moves South. Th-the one I killed was a straggler, and, maybe even proof?” Eyes bored deeper, “It’s just that, there’d be no reason to go the northern route, the rough terrain, and if they went East they’d reach the secondary line outside Jodenhaur and then again have to choose uphill and rocky, or the lowland southern marshes.” “The northern rivers are Canals, they’re far easier to swim through, that’s why we figured that’s where the horde would push for.” “If so, you could fire on them from above, right?” Both commanders nodded their heads, “Then if they did go that route they could simply turn back; who knows how they could communicate even, imagine if they only sent a small party in either direction to scout? There’s just so many unknowns; And, if they do go south, then they can entrench themselves in the marshland if we’re to slow.” The Commanders both paused for a moment; Alkahm glanced across toward the northern regions, contemplating. “Ready a messenger.” One of the spotters glanced at her, “Commander?” “Ready a Messenger! If what she says is true we need to reinforce our—“ In the distance, a flash of orange cut through the lowlight of the cavern, followed by another, then a third as the braziers along the Northern encampments were lit. The enemy had arrived, she was wrong. “Damnit!” A’yill let out with a yell as he moved toward the railing, “Men! Ready your arms! The Horde’s moving North!” The blood drained from her face as she backed away from the approaching commanders. He barely managed a feint glare, “Stupid; stupid of me, never should’ve trusted some labor-caste.” Alzeih’s eyes fell to the ground as she backed toward the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold steel. Turning around her eyes moved to the soldiers below her, the Commander behind her barking orders to her soldiers. Gripping the steel tighter she glanced at the river, the low blue light shrouded by the remnants of the dark substance that had polluted it since the Black Horde appeared, the sullen silence in color as the light of the river shuttered dark. What. Alzeih thought for only a moment before she strained her eyes toward the river. What…was that? “There.” One of the Archers looked at her surprisedly and they met eyes. “Right…there.” She said again. “Excuse me?” the man responded as Alzeih pointed toward the river. “Fire.” “What?! You can’t be serious—“ “Please.” The man paused for a moment, looking toward the river. He squinted his eyes as a curious realization dawned on him. He nocked back an arrow, placing its drawn tip in the torch beside him. Commander Alkahm began to turn, ordering him to cease his actions, before the man loosed his hand and the emblazoned arrow flew through the dark cavern air and there was again silence. The Command ran toward the railing, furies eyes turning toward both her and the archer. She opened her mouth to let loose a fury of words before she was cut silence by a lone, high-pitched shriek. Then a chorus as the river water in the distance exploded and a torrent of dark shapes barreled into the exposed marshland. There was a moment of surprise before the commander let out a yell; “Sighting on the fourth! Goddamnit light the damn brazier the girl was right!” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Alzeih glanced away as the flash of orange in the distance marked the fourth brazier along the southern river as word of the spotted enemy flew along the Warrior’s communication protocols. Wind rustled around them as the Warriors and Conscripted Asil charged into the marshland below them — each was paired into a group of eight with a minimum of two Warrior Caste to supplant the overabundance of Conscripts. They ran in unison before the squadrons began to line into a spearhead formation and the first of the off-guard enemy was sighted. It was long and slender, lizard-like even, with black and green scales marking it as different than the long-neck she’d encountered before; and they were numerous. Each was the size of a K’kasa —A Asilic Equine-analogue, similar to a wingless Moth. The first they saw let out a low gurgle and charged forward, its head flying back as a forward line of spears punctured its thin flesh. The Spearhead kept formation for a few more minutes as they continued, at a much slower pace, to push forward into the Horde’s vanguard before their rear echelons began to fan out encircling the stragglers. This continued, push and encircle, push and encircle, before they reached the riverside the contrasts of the dark blotches and the natural light of the river painting a staticky light over them. There was a shriek and the water burst forward, Alzeih backed up and swung down, her Khapez glinting purple as she beheaded a long-neck for the second time. There was a war-horn in the distance as another squadron began to reach them on the opposite side of the river. Grouped similarly, this other Squadron was grouped similarly, pushing rapidly into the swelling ranks of the Horde. So this was War. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The taste of acid filled her mouth as Alzeih leapt back, sword in hand, to strike at one of the beasts. Already her muscles ached and her lungs burned as they desperately gasped for air as the combination of squadrons began to push the Horde downriver; There were 12 of them at this point, almost 2,000 soldiers and conscripts in total all coordinating their attacks to snare and encircle the spreading tendrils of the enemies formation. Horns called and a loud smack filled her ears as a war boat plowed into one of the long-necks, and its head was crushed along the side of a rock. For almost two hours they’d kept this up and still move ships poured down from the West, and more squadrons came to their aid. It was all she could do not to turn around as another conscript was pulled into the River and a vial of Ikorr shattered onto one of the beasts, its high pitched screams echoing around the cavern as the green fire leapt along its sides. By this point Alzeih found herself with the Vanguard as her Squadron circled forward; she ducked low as they moved over one of the stone bridges connecting the two riverbanks and suddenly there as a miracle. The flash of light filled her eyes as the Harbor came into view — it was really more of a lake, but the land around it had been excavated into a formal reservoir to allow for crops and the flow of larger ships. Then the miracle stopped. A flash of purple light and the crackle of electricity stunned her as her eyes widened. It was huge. Size gargantuan legs, thick black scales and spines running down its back, and a vast head split four-ways like a flour. The sound of Fire-Breathers echoed in return as the water around it exploded, bursts of fire engulfing the beast for only a moment before it either regained its stance or managed to move forward slightly, its spines buzzing before another spark of electricity arched over the harbor, smashing into the fortifications of the harbor-city Yuln. Behind it was what caught her attention, however; the Gate was still intact. Water swirled around the jagged, rock-filled opening left by the Black horde’s arrival, dark shapes surged inward from the gaping hole. A’yill’s voice caught her attention through the chaos — the man was drenched in water, purple and green fluid splashed across his chest. Behind him, the scene had almost turned comical: the horde had been pushed back into the river, and at this point soldiers proceeded to simply punched their spears into the murky water. “Laborer!” he started, panting heavily, “On God it’s good to see you — reinforcements from the Northern front have just reached our rear…God you were right, the entire north was a feint…listen,” he paused for a moment to catch his breath, “you see that?!” he pointed to the gaping hole and the beast in the harbor, “I just met with the other commanders and I need you to come with me.” Following him were 8 Groups in total, including the one Alzeih had been assigned too, and the one under Commander A’yill’s control. Breaking off from the fighting, the started to move West toward the cavern wall; the dark, jagged cliffs quickly began to tower over them as they climbed toward what seemed a vantage point overlooking the fighting. “A-hem,” started the Commander, “Listen, there” he pointed toward the Gate, “the Horde’s still pushing in, and unless we act now, their going to overrun us faster than we can kill the bastards. So…” he paused for a moment, “Well there’s no easy way to say this but…we have to bring it down. All of it.” A collective “what” passed amongst the soldiers. “Or at least enough to keep more of those bastards from pouring in like xynaif.” There was at least a minute of blank stares as realization dawned on the unfortunate few tasked with bringing down a centuries work. “How?” A lone voice asked, “And what then?” The Commander looked grim, “We’re climbing the supports,” he pointed toward twin columns on either side of the gate, still intact despite the apparent devastation, “from their we’re going to light blast-oil along the Middle-Support arch and bring the entire lower half crashing down.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The Groups started to move West along the bank, encountering little resistance. Whatever monstrosities lied beneath the waves, they were all flooding toward the southern offensive. The sound of Electricity and Cannonfire from the Firebreathers echoed through the air as they reached the southern support, a thick carved-stone column reaching toward the ceiling of the cavern. The Gate loomed stoically over them, black-white stones form its interior side — the Gold Ihlmekt Diamond still intact, watching over the battle. From their, 6 of the squadrons broke off into the structure, 3 of them to gather the materials, the other to pass them along the supports — and hopefully, this could trap enough of the creatures outside to turn the tides of the battle. Still on the dockyard, a series of stone-brick fortifications right along the harbor, the scope of the battle was suddenly and acutely apparent. Alzeih could barely see the end of Cavern on good days from her Housing Column in the Farming region, but from here, with the steam and smoke, Ixthenpijn seemed to push on forever. To the South, torch fire and just fire in general emblazoned the shadows of soldiers, and just ahead, a row of Fire-Breathers continued to fire on the gargantuan beast in the center of the Harbor — the water around it splashing white as metal projectiles rocketed forward. There was a splashing just off the fortress along the sandbank; one of the soldiers, a lower-caste conscript like her, pointed in horror as one of the smaller lizard-analogues crawled onto shore. Drawing their swords the two squadrons set to guard the entrance into the support beam began to advance, but it wasn’t the beasts roars that caught Alzeih’s attention. It was the sound of Horns — in the distance, the former Northern Front, several shapes came into view. War Boats, tens of them. They streamed into the harbor, seemingly oblivious to the gargantuan horror in it’s center. As her compatriots ran to confront the immediate enemy, Alzeih slowed. Looking up toward the support-structure, she turned the other direction, and began to climb the steps leading toward the entrance. Ignoring the cries of the soldiers behind her, Alzeih grabbed one of the torches before she reached the final balcony overlooking the River below them with a sole brazier lying right on the corner — unlit like the other fire sources apart from torches to avoid drawing attention to the supports. What was that phrase the Warrior’s kept screaming? The War-Cry? Her arm quivered, torch in hand as she looked first at the Brazier then the Horror before her, arcs of purple electricity flying across its spines. She blinked once, God forgive her for this; “AĒL” Her hand opened, the torch falling, “IH’MAHN!” The light of the brazier suddenly shone with a ferverence, was this even going to work? • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • The water around it churned as the beast took another step forward, a multitude of eyes zeroing in on the puny targets in front of it. It let out a snarl as the volley ended and silence returned to the water around it, small crackles of static already starting to run along its back. Suddenly, a flash of light and its aft eyes turning to whatever was behind it. Sparkling light danced along the wall it’d just smashed through. It let out a low growl as it turned around, electricity beginning to run along its back, flashes of purple and blue growing in fury as it prepared to fire at whoever was to dare try and encircle it. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “LABORER!” One of the soldiers below her called out, “WHAT ON GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING, IT’S TURNING AROU—“ He was cut off as the Black Horror roared and Alzeih realized her first mistake. Purple, now with stripes of blue, light began to flicker along its back; her eyes flew to the great Ihlmekt, still gleaming, above her. God Forgive — Lighting bristled along the beasts spines before lunging forward, arcing across the harbor. Alzeih closed her eyes, the air around her heating. Sound stopped, and the blinding light just beyond her eyelids went dark. “Is this…death?” She opened her eyes again, bewildered as flashes of purple light fizzled and died in front of her. Disruption ripped through the bolt as it split-apart before impact. The air around her cooled as rapidly just as the first waive of heat reached her face. Everything was still before the beast again roared, blue and purple electricity forming on its back. The arc shot over the Harbor and just…stopped, as if the air in front of it turned solid. The bolt expanded before breaking apart and fizzling out of existence, and again, silence. The Beast roared again, furious at whatever machinations were at play against it, and charged. It’s six legs pounding against the water as it moved in for the kill. Just as quickly, Alzeih’s hands went for the base of the iron Brazier, lifting it into the air before her forethought kicked in. Wait, we have to wait. The beast continued to charge, low growls echoing over the water, the water around it surging and stilling. Wait. It opened its mouth again to roar and behind her came her cue. Commander A’yill and the other Squadron members came dashing out of the doorway behind her; the man turning for only a moment to let out a surprised, “Alzeih?!” as she loosed the brazier right into the gaping hole that was the remains of the Gate. The Beast turned it’s head to pursue, it would not be humiliated like this! Letting loose a roar its four-fold head split open as the soldiers behind her looked in shock, awe and horror. The sound of splitting stone was suddenly the only thing they could hear, as the row of explosives placed along the supports of the wall suddenly lit. One after another, pieces of the wall burst forward and several tons of stone came crashing down and the Beasts eyes shot up to the last thing it would ever see. As if on cue, a lone horn sound blasted across the harbor and the sound of a sole Fire-Breather was accompanied by a burning payload arcing toward the newly opened hole. A blinding light flashed and suddenly Alzeih knew — the realization dawning on her as the now trapped members of the Horde where engulfed in Alchemical Fire.
|
|
|
Post by thevalleianorders on Jun 5, 2018 11:30:22 GMT -5
Part Four Docklands of Amnest, Veritious: “Why do you pause, crew?” the Captain asked although he knew full well why they had halted. What stood in front of them was something formidable, strange, and dark. It was the entrance to a city of what seemed to be like darkness. The horns blared once again. “Shields, ready!” “Yes Captain Pyttyn!” the shieldbearers replied. Their voices echoed through the tunnel of a street that stood in front of them. “Spears, ready!” the Captain ordered his men once again. His voice boomed through the defensive line they were now forming. “Yes Captain Pyttyn!” the spearbearers replied. Their shouts sliced through the silence of the city. “Auxiliaries ready!” the Captain ordered on last time, voice still as eager as before. “Yes Captain Pyttyn!” they all replied. Their screams were followed by the arming of crossbows and the lighting of torches. “FORWARD, MARCH! YT CONCORDIAT!” “YT CONCORDIAT!” The streets that lay in front of them did not seem to harbor death, although they did cause much confusion among the newly formed ranks of delegates. Corridors intersected alleyways that connected to crosses and squares that found their way back to the start. Onwards they walked as one, adjusting the width of their lines as the streets meandered, broadened, and constricted like the torrents of a mighty (and bipolar) river. They could not tell at the time, but steadily their columns bore right, relative to the docklands that they had come from. The rear lines constantly broke, attempting to light the broken gas lanterns that once illuminated the presently dark streets. Many lights failed to start, others blew their glass enclosures. Only a few remained burning, so as to mark a way back to the harbors that they now had left far behind. They marched forward, slowly but steadily into the cavern that was this labyrinth of a city. The ominous crimson beam of light pervaded the rising smokestacks of a burning metropolis. The crimson rays penetrated the hearts of man and beast alike, attempting to fill them with a fear of death. If it only knew that it would fail to stop these men that march into the city. They did not fear death. -------------------------- The Study, Imperial Palace, Edinginia: Night slowly bore way to day, but these two still sat there, pointing at different figures and discussing courses of action. Strewn on the old, ebony table were maps, record books, tables, and charts, all information that related to the central map. The largest map was that of the great Canal system of the Imperial Communion. Those vast waterways stretched for eight hundred miles through the Various Orders; they acted as the vessels of trade and commerce for the entirety of the Ordtyryt. These canals built during the five hundred years of the Empire’s existence spanned throughout the whole Communion, except for one place: The Northern Territories. Largely unconnected from the economy of the rest of the Orders, the Northern Territories desperately needed to be connected to the markets and farms of the south. This lack of connection acted as a final barrier to the admittance of the North as a full Order. Aparaius and Gabriel now worked to destroy that last dividing wall. “No, this line has to connect to that one! How else will goods connect from those two villages to the Capital?” Aparaius grumbled as he moved to trace another line on the map. “I guess I overlooked that,” Gabriel admitted as he turned pages from the twenty or so books that he had open, “I was too busy trying to find companies that were willing to take up the project!” “Is it still difficult to find construction firms up there in the North?” Aparaius asked skeptically. “Well, after the Great Fire of Nurrtexia destroyed the third of the city that wasn’t destroyed by the quakes,” Gabriel stated, “Firms have been either destroyed or overworked during the aftermath.” “The Fire destroyed that much of their city?” Aparaius questioned further, “And the fire was deliberate?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Gabriel replied. “The fire was purposely set to fight the monster that was ‘summoned’ during the quake. All that was said after the matter was that it was able to kill the beast in the end.” “That is quite the letdown.” The Imperator whispered to himself. Perhaps we shoul-“ “What are you two boys still doing up so late!?!” the Prysmytr (Grandmaster) Sylias exclaimed as he rushed into the study. “Have you been planning again?” “Yes, High Prysmytr,” Gabriel admitted humbly. “Wait, Sylias,” Aparaius started, noticing that the Grandmaster was about to go on a rampage, “We were just finishing up here. We have all the routes mapped out, but finding active firms is difficult in the middle of the night.” “THAT is your concern, my Imperator?” The Grandmaster scoffed, although with the air of friendly sarcasm he used with Aparaius. “I can handle communication with local firms via Crystal!.” “That would be favorable,” Gabriel thought as he spoke. “Why don’t we send him North with the plans after he figures out who’s going to build this colossus project?” “Then it will be done,” the Imperator decreed, “The High Prysmytr Sylias shall return to the North to oversee the construction of one hundred new miles of canals after signing deals with Northern firms from the confines of the Capital.” “Yes, Most Holy Imperator,” the Grandmaster replied. The trio laughed as they walked out of the study to retire for the rest of the night. -------------------------- Kantun Island, Beach Point, Western Expeditionary Fleet: “They ordered us to do WHAT?” Captain Arroga shouted to the Prystyrs that had just conveyed the message that was sent via crystal. The sun was barely rising on the second day of their fleet’s strandedness, but the entire crew was already feeling tired. “Use ship supplies to construct a new settlement,” the Prystyr Junsun with an almost robotic tone. “Help will come soon.” “I know what they want us to do already,” the Captain yelled with even more rage, “but I don’t understand how they expect us to do such crazy things!” The Captain promptly kicked a fallen coconut that rolled its way to the beach they now stood on. It flew and shattered on a coconut tree, causing twenty or so coconuts to fall to the ground. “Well, our food problem is solved at least,” commented Aurytyr Kollyk as he took a group of Diplomatic Committee members to collect the fallen food items. “Captain, why don’t you go take a breather and go lie down? I’m sure we can bear fine for a while.” “I. Will. Never. Rest.” the Captain Arroga replied haggardly. “Now, you BETTER get those coconuts! While you’re at it, why don’t you go collect more foodstuffs?” Kollyk smiled. He was finally able to get the Captain to start commanding the crew. “Yes Captain Arroga.” the Committee replied as they walked into the treeline. “Junsun,” the Captain commanded, “maintain communication with the Capital. Keep looking to find aid, and send the Investigatory Committee out here.” “Yes, Captain Arroga,” the Prystyr replied cooly, slowly processing back to the ship that bore the Crystal. A few minutes passed until the Investigatory Committee bothered to go to the Captain. “You called, Captain?” inquired the Hytyr Binna, her cold eyes staring down the Captain with a questioning glare. “What needs ‘Investigation’?” “Take your Committee with you, and start ‘investigating’ stuff on this island.” The Captain continued, “There could be ANY thing on this ship-trap. While you’re looking around, find us a good place to build permanent shelter. These ships won’t do much in the long-term.” “Finally, a job!” Binna exclaimed, “Yes, Captain,” with much excitement, and with that, the entire Investigatory Committee was off to explore and survey. The Captain smiled as he turned around and entered the Crystal-bearing ship, lifting the gangway out of the sand as he hopped up deck. His eyes wandered to the eleven other ships that just sat buried in the sand up to their gun-ports. Most of them listed slightly to their sides, but none were truly damaged. The Captain frowned, knowing that these fine ships would never sail again in this age. They were effectively wrecked, although no ships had been smashed. “Ecclesiastical Committee!” the Captain ordered once more, “Request for supplies from the Welakian Trade Guilds. The Imperator wills it, so we will it!”
|
|
|
Post by Percyton on Jun 6, 2018 22:23:52 GMT -5
Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles
King Godred and Burnett Stone
It was early morning the capital city. With the arrival of Duke Adam coming steadily closer, Chief Driver Burnett Stone was up early getting everything ready. Banners were being put up, Locomati artifacts and symbols decorated the main entrance hall, and Burnett even arranged for traditional Locomati storytellers to come to the capital to give presentations on Locomati history and traditions.
On this day, Burnett and his companion Lady were supervising the putting up of banners in the throne room. “A little to the left,” Burnett called out to a workman. “No, your other left!”
“Need any help?” asked a croaky voice. Burnett looked behind, and saw P.T. Boomerius standing there.
“Oh, it’s you,” Burnett said. “What do you want, Boomerius?”
“Can’t a man offer his assistance without being interrogated?” Boomerius replied innocently.
“Zip it. It’s not like you really want to help anyway. You just want to mess things up for one reason or another.”
Boomerius chuckled. “You make my actions sound so random, Burnett. I assure they are not.”
Lady sensed the gravity of the conversation Burnett and Boomerius were having, and decided it would be best to leave them alone for it. “Why don’t we come back to the throne room later?” Lady said to the workmen. “I think some of the banners in the East Hall are a bit crooked. Might as well change it now before we forget.” Lady escorted the workmen out of the room, closing the doors to the throne room behind her. Once Lady and the workmen were out of earshot, the two magic users continued their conversation.
“What exactly do you mean?” Burnett asked Boomerius.
“Oh, Burnett, you always were a bit slow. Isn’t it obvious? You have a lot riding on this festival, and you could stand to lose a lot of favor if Duke Adam’s celebrations don’t go as planned. Alternatively, if things go well, I could stand to gain favor if I can plausibly take the credit for it.” Boomerius paused. “But, all things considered, I think the former option is preferable. I never cared for Duke Adam anyway, and a poor celebration could cause a rift between him and King Godred, which could work quite well in my favor.”
“You leave His Majesty out of this, you villain!”
“So defensive. I never said I would hurt the King, now did I? Not yet, at least.”
Burnett snorted. “Whatever. Your threats don’t frighten me, so I suggest you stay out of my way.”
“We’ll see about that.” Before Burnett could reply, the throne room doors were flung open, and King Godred walked in with a herald and a small entourage. The herald breathed in, then blew hard on his trumpet. After he did that, he cried out “King Godred Crovan has arrived! The royal court is now in session!”
Godred Crovan sat at his throne. “Now then,” he began. “Before we begin, I have a bit of news for you all. I am pleased to announce that Chancellor Cormac of Balladrine has returned from his leave of absence. In fact, he’s here right now. Come on out here, Cormac!” At that moment, a back door to the throne room opened, and through the door stepped Chancellor Cormac himself. The gathered audience gave an eager applause.
“Thank you all for the warm welcome back,” Cormac said, as he took his seat to the right of the King’s throne. “I’m in good health now, and my financial affairs are tied up, so I can now go back to advising our magnanimous monarch.”
“And I’m certainly glad to have you back by my side,” Godred replied. “With that, on to our first order of business.” Godred turned toward his Correspondence Minister Hugh of Maron. “Hugh, what news do you bring?”
“Very important news, Your Majesty,” Hugh said. “Mian Olynsson, son of the Governor of Arlesburgh, has arrived with a delegation from a foreign land. They said they are from a place called ‘the Valleian Orders.’”
“Valleian Orders?” King Godred questioned. “We discussed them a few weeks back, didn’t we? About how they’d either come to us, or we’d send a delegation to them later? It seems like they visited us first. Bring them in, Hugh!” Hugh then left the room to retrieve the Valleian delegation.
“Here’s hoping this meeting brings good news and clarity,” Bailiff of the Eastern Frontier Ramsey of Abendon said. “So we know how much of a threat we have to our north, and how we should respond to such a threat.”
“Indeed, Ramsey. But I prefer to take a more optimistic viewpoint. I'm hoping these peoples are a friendly sort that we can work with. Always better to have friends than enemies.”
Soon, the Valleian Orders delegation, including all three of its committees, entered the throne room, escorted by Mian and Hugh. They bowed before the King of the Isles Godred Crovan. “Thank you for receiving us, Your Majesty,” the lead delegate began. “It is an honor to meet you at last. I am Aurytyr Alexiania, sister to the Imperator of the Valleian Orders.” She then introduced the heads of the Investigatory, Diplomatic, and Ecclesiastical committees. Alexiana and the delegates arose from their bowing position. “We are here to seek new partnerships with the ‘Dual Kingdom of the Isles’, as you have taken to calling yourselves.”
“We are always open to working with our neighbors,” King Godred replied. “But first, perhaps you could tell me a bit about the Valleian Orders? It’s been so long since our two nations have had contact, and I would like to know about the nation I’m negotiating with. Then you can tell me your proposals.”
Western island, unclaimed islands of the Southern Sea
Eastern Colonization Project
The fleet of Dual Kingdom ships plowed through the waves, staying a course toward the biggest of the unclaimed western islands. The journey wasn’t easy: at various times, the crew had strayed off course, narrowly avoided a crew mutiny, and almost ran out of food before they stopped on a smaller island to hunt and pick berries. But as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, one of the sailors on the fleet’s flagship looked out toward the east, and spotted what they had been looking for. “Land ho!” the sailor shouted gleefully. “Land ho! In the name of Myratnis, land ho!”
The other sailors soon saw that there was indeed land ahead, and it appeared to be much larger than the other islands they’d seen. The captain was notified, the course was set, and the message was relayed to the other ships in the expedition.
Soon, the fleet arrived at the island. The ships dropped anchor offshore, while smaller parties approached the island in rowboats. The rowboats struck the beach, and the expedition members got off onto dry land.
“Land at last,” the expedition leader Aslac of Kellsthorpe said. “I think this is the beginning of a bright new era.” Just then, the expedition heard a rustling from the nearby bushes. “Who’s there?” Aslac said as he looked toward the bushes. But there was no one there.
“If there was someone there,” another expedition member said, “they’re gone now.”
“Indeed. Looks like this island isn’t uninhabited after all. Ah well, we didn’t come here to worry about the natives. We can deal with them later. For now, let’s unload the ships and set up camp. I think we all need a rest after our long sea voyage, so we shall rest for a day and then start building the settlement tomorrow.”
“What shall we call this settlement?” one member asked.
Aslac looked around. A few feet away was a river that emptied into the sea. Aslac approached the river. He inspected it, and saw it was very slow-moving and tranquil. That gave him an idea. “We shall call this the River Tid,” Aslac explained, “after the Old Islander word for ‘calm’. And since we shall build our settlement at the mouth of the river, we shall name our settlement ‘Tidmouth’.”
“Long live Tidmouth!” shouted one expedition member. “Long live the Dual Kingdom!” The cry was soon taken up.
“Long live Tidmouth!” all the expeditioners cried out. “Long live the Dual Kingdom!”
Grand Ducal Castle, Ballahoo, Southern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles
Grand Duke Thomas and Percy of Avonsida
It was early evening at the Locomati Grand Duke’s court. Most of the court had retired for the night, while Grand Duke Thomas himself was busy with meetings. This meant the throne room was empty except for one figure: the Grand Duke’s page Percy of Avonsida. Percy was to deal with any concerns or questions from the royal court until the Grand Duke returned. And with the petty and squabbling atmosphere of the court, those concerns and questions could be quite frequent. They were all rather minor and inconsequential, but they could also be repetitive and annoying.
As Percy stood by the throne, James of Lanksharn walked in. James was a wealthy nobleman who originally hailed from the village of Lanksharn near Norramby, and now had a large estate near Ballahoo Ridge not far from the capital. James was always one of the most fashion-conscious member of the court, even more so than some of the ladies, and he could always be distinguished by his bright red outfits. Though James was a strong figure at court, that didn’t mean he was a popular one.
“Hello, Percy,” James said to the page. “It seems our busy Grand Duke has left his lowly page in charge again. How typical.” Percy didn’t respond to James’ snark. What James and most others didn’t know was that Percy was more than your average page. He was also a close confidant and agent of Grand Duke Thomas. Grand Duke Thomas would often rely on Percy’s counsel, and if Thomas wanted a matter discretely investigated, he would call upon Percy, as Percy’s (publicly) minor role and diminutive stature meant few ever suspected him.
“Hello, James,” Percy replied. “I see you’re as understanding and polite as usual.”
“Honestly, there are some things I just don’t understand about that Thomas. He obviously needs to expand his staff. Perhaps give bigger roles to actually important people like me.”
“He’ll gives roles to whoever he sees fit. You don’t like it, that’s your problem.”
“Hmph!” James snorted. Just then, the doors swung open, and Thomas walked in flanked by a pair of guards. The Grand Duke was visibly frustrated as he walked across the room toward his throne.
“Unbelievable,” Thomas seethed. “I assign multiple guards to Diesalion, and yet he still finds a way to escape! How does something like this happen? How do we lose a high-profile prisoner like Diesalion?”
“I don’t know,” said one of the guards. “But I spoke with the head of Diesalion’s guard, and as you instructed, I had him dismissed. The lower officers were reassigned to coastal defense duty.”
“That’s all well and good, but we need more than punishment. We need solutions!” The Grand Duke plopped down on his throne.
“Should we ask the human realm for help?” Percy asked. “Get their investigators involved?”
“No,” said Thomas. “We don’t need to get King Godred involved. We need to show we can handle things on our own. I’ve called in commander of the military Gordon of Doncastburgh. Hopefully he can help us locate the escapee.” Thomas turned toward James of Lanksharn and tried to fake a smile. “But first, Percy tells me you have a concern you want brought to my attention. How can I help you, James?”
“It’s Henry of Ballahoo Ridge, sir!” James replied. “He’s my neighbor as you know, and his horses and pigs are always stumbling onto my property, eating my hedges, and absolutely ruining my splendid gardens! But, I feel most saddened for my roses. They’re a lovely shade of red, and since red is my favorite color --”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Thomas muttered under his breath.
“-- the loss of my roses is quite tragic. Please, Your Majesty, there must be something you can do to compel Henry to action! He needs to control his animals and make sure they don’t run onto my land!”
“Oh for Myratnis’ sake, James!” Thomas exclaimed. “We’ve been through this before. How many times do I have to tell you? 1: Henry is a patriot who played a pivotal role in my election as Grand Duke, so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. 2: You know Henry is a sickly man. Since he’s often away taking in the springs and eating special herbal plants in Walecoll, his estate is often left in the hands of managers and overseers, so of course things aren’t going to be so well-run. 3: I have better things to do with my times than deal with your petty grievances over gardening. Bring it up with Governor Arthur, or better yet, just build a stronger fence!”
James felt insulted by Thomas’ comments. “Well, I’d never!” James cried. “To be so dismissive toward me, one of your most prominent nobleman! Besides, Governor Arthur has ignored my visits and hasn’t responded to any of my letters, and building a fence would just cost more money.”
“Indeed, and judging by your fancy clothing, money is in short supply for you as it is,” Thomas sarcastically replied. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll refer your concerns to the Interior Minister. He can investigate the matter, sit down with both you and Henry, and hopefully a pleasing resolution can be reached. That will be all, James.”
James smiled and bowed before the Grand Duke. “Thank you, generous majesty.” James then walked out of the throne room, just as Gordon of Doncastburgh was entering it.
“Ah, Gordon,” Thomas began. “It’s good to see you again, although I do wish it was under better circumstances.”
“No worries, Your Majesty,” Gordon replied. “Always willing to serve my Grand Duke.”
“Good, because I’m going to need your help. Diesalion X has escaped from house arrest, and now he’s missing. The army guard units have been desperately searching for and following up on any leads, but they haven’t had much luck so far.”
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I know just what to do. I’ll bring this matter to the whole army. I’ll put the army on high-alert, and I’ll form a task force with other top-ranking military leaders to find Diesalion.”
“That’s all well and good,” Thomas responded, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re still in the dark on Diesalion’s whereabouts. Do we have any clues or leads?”
“Only that witnesses saw a cloaked figure leaving Ballahoo and heading north by ship,” Gordon explained. “A few saw what looked like a claw birthmark on the figure’s forehead, but they can’t be sure. It was dark out, and the figure’s hood partly obscured the mark.”
“Still, it’s something, and considering the Northern Locomati Island is Diesalion’s former dominion, him going there seems entirely plausible. I want all our efforts focused on the Northern Locomati Island, Vicarstown in particular. If Diesalion is anywhere, he’s there.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gordon responded. He bowed before the Grand Duke, then left the room. Grand Duke Thomas and Percy of Avonsida were left alone. There was a moment of silence, as both made sure neither Gordon nor anyone else was within earshot. Finally, Percy spoke up.
“I am a bit worried about James,” the page said. “I hope he doesn’t take this too hard.”
“Ah, don’t worry about him,” Thomas said. “I know him from when we were both part of the Assembly of Nobles. He may be a nuisance, but he’s also a patriot, and I think he’ll still back me if push comes to shove. Now listen,” Thomas leaned toward Percy and began to whisper. “Remember what I said earlier about not getting King Godred involved in this Diesalion matter? Well, I don’t think we need to get Godred involved in this, but I do think we should get his court involved.”
“How so, Thomas?” Percy asked.
“I want you to go to Godred’s court at Peel Godred. Officially, you’ll be a member of our delegation to Duke Adam’s festival. Unofficially, you’ll be scouting out the court for people you can trust and rely on. I want you to assemble a small team, maybe 2 or 3 other people, from among Godred’s court to assist you in tracking Diesalion and bringing him to justice. I don’t think our court has the expertise for this sort of mission, so hopefully we can find the right people in Peel Godred. This operation relies on discreteness and secrecy, so you must be careful.”
“And once I assemble my team, then what? Should I contact you?”
“No, no,” Thomas replied sternly. “Too much of a risk that your letter could be intercepted, and we don’t have time to create a new code. Once you assemble your team, I leave it all up to you. So long as you avoid suspicion, you and your team can conduct the investigation as you see fit. Once you’ve done as much as you could, or if you think your cover’s been blown, return to Ballahoo and relay your findings to me in-person. Do you think you’re up for it, Percy?”
“Of course, Thomas. You can count on me.”
Thomas smiled. “That’s good. I knew I could rely on a Really Useful agent like you. I’ll write up official papers for you proving you’re part of the delegation, and you shall depart with the rest of the delegation within a few days. Goddesspeed, Percy.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Percy said as he bowed before the Grand Duke.
|
|
|
Post by Percyton on Jun 9, 2018 16:01:15 GMT -5
Port of Redan, Redan, Noble Kingdom of Lexidus
Diplomatic delegation of the Dual Kingdom
The sailors and diplomats of the Dual Kingdom’s diplomatic delegation to Lexidus had been at sea for some time. Food and water were starting to become scarce, and the men aboard were beginning to lose hope of ever reaching Lexidus. They feared Lexidus was simply a too far-off land, and that maybe the Dual Kingdom wasn’t meant to engage with the other nations of the world.
However, their fortunes changed one day. One sailor leaned against the ship’s bow to rest. He expected to see more ocean like he always had. But then he saw something unusual. A large green mass just coming into view over the horizon. “Is that what I think it is?” the sailor said to himself. He called another sailor over. “Hey Colum, come take a look at this!”
Colum came over and looked toward the horizon. “Yes, I do see something. I think it’s land.”
“So, we finally made it?” the first sailor questioned. Then he shouted out. “Land ho! Land ho!” The proclamation was relayed, and the ships made course for the land. Eventually, they pulled into a busy harbor. The three leaders of the delegation stepped off the boat, where they saw a smartly-dressed man waiting for them.
“An honor to meet you, noble sir,” one of the delegates said as he and his two companions lightly bowed before the man. “I am Reynold of Killdane, Chief Supervisor of Northern Outreach. These are my associates, Paton of Brendam and Fergus de Cementia. We are a diplomatic delegation from the Dual Kingdom of the Isles to the south of here, and we seek to open diplomatic relations with the Noble Kingdom of Lexidus.”
The smartly-dressed man examined the three diplomats. “I could tell you were from a far off land,” the man said, “judging by your purple friend over there.” The man pointed at Fergus.
“That man is a Locomati,” Reynold replied. “I would tell you all about the Locomati species, but I’m afraid we have business to attend to. Whom am I speaking to?”
“Ah yes, my apologies. I am the head of the Merchant Association in this city. You are a diplomatic delegation, you say? Do you intend to open trade with Lexidus?”
“If we are able to, yes.”
The merchant smiled. “In that case, I can gladly show you the way to the capital at Camelon. It is to the north of here. I’ll set you and your people up with a caravan and a guide as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Reynold responded. “I do wish to repay you for your services.”
“Think nothing of it,” the merchant insisted. “Once you open up trade, your country’s merchants will more than repay me with their business. Come with me, and I’ll get everything ready.”
|
|
|
Post by Andromitus on Jun 9, 2018 17:03:52 GMT -5
Official Curate Edict: Call to Assembly, Quota Management Update
In official message of the Kyasii Authority, Labor-Farmer Secured Rationing have been decreased by 15%. Quota reach has increased equally. A meeting of the High Curate has been called; All required are expected to be in attendance. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Ashakt il-bekf ilâuhm Aēl xylat-impekt xi Aēl, abyix mulnohaantz ryxet-ilektf Aēl("I profess that there is no god but God, I am the toiler of God”)
Shaka’hraum Thaur, Vitesk River
“Get back to your Homes! Anyone remaining will be treated as a hostile!” The Zaokruam —A 7m Arthropod War Elephant-Analogue— let out a low grown, like someone waiving out a line of cloth, the people around it’s six trunk-like legs scattered as the huge beast used its twin faceplates to force protesters to either side of the road. The Procession behind it, a line of Warrior-Caste mounted on a mixture of the moth-like K’kasa and a multitude of other Zaokruam, pushed forward through the surging crowd. Lower and Middle Caste lined the streets around them, trying constantly to force their way in the small gaps between soldiers, yelling and insults coursing louder than then could be silenced. It’d been like this since word broke out, first of the Ahnsijn’s death, then the Quota increase, and finally, the Black Horde rampaging through the south triggered first protests, and now what seemed like outright revolt. Something had sparked first in the Laborers, small groups, then lines of workers and housekeepers marching toward the temples for food. It took only a small amount of time before small revolts turned into an outright protest against the engagement of the new Authority Policies, acts that seemed league’s away from what were implemented under the, now previous, Ahnsijn. “This is an order of the Authority! Get back to your housing!” A lone soldier yelled; Already around him the roaring began to grow as the soldiers breached into the interior of the city. A lone brick hit the man as he tumbled off the side of his mount, the huge beast swinging forward, faceplate smashing several protesters into the ground. Pandemonium engulfed the crowd as people surged to attack the soldiers, and even more chose to flee. The K’kasa mounts charged forward, spears penetrating helpless lower-caste caught in the middle of chargers and runners, the sound of enraged Zaokruam filled the air as blood spattered on the stone streets.
Volthazaan, Arcthaur
The room was similar to the previous, a domed amphitheater with a sole large brazier in the center, the smell of alms, Taukau meat, pouring out of it. A total of 84 grand, white stone columns stood along the back wall, each ornately carved with Asilic calligraphy and mounting a burning torch. Yet, this room was seemingly quadruple in size to its amphitheatrical-equivalent, with diamond shaped stone plates forming the pieces of the geometric ceiling and and acting as baseboards for the raised seating — all to echo and spread the sound of those farthest away. This was the High Curate, a meeting of the formal 52 Curators, alongside the several hundred representative and chief architects, inactive-generals, economists, scientists and other thinkers, and of course, the Chief Alchemists of the Ahnsijnate. Below the Ahnsijn, the High Curate was the supreme Asilic authority in Politics, Theology, and Law. The varied nature of its inhabitants was equally reflected by those seated around its curving walls, a majority of them likely being from opposite corners of Asil. They all had a similar tone to them, Dark Green and Purple Robes of varying styles, each with the Ihlmekt embroidered or placed in the middle of their collar or chest. Each, however still, was defined by their headware, as a variety of Zaam —Turban— for several different Caste, from the hemispherical to the centrical — Sikh-Styled — defined those from the north, while ornate scarves, Taxyia —Kofia— and the T’kaul —akin to a mix of a Ducal-Hat & Topor— marked representatives from the South. “Members of the High Curate.” The Lawspeaker’s voice boomed over the amassing crowd of people, “Priests, Warriors, and Scribes, I thank you all for coming in these trouble times—“ She was cut off from a lone voice within the crowd, “With the enemy at our doorstep, is now the time to start with pleasantries?” The lone voice was soon accompanied by a calvcade of murmurs of agreement, after all, when had the last High Curate been called? “Please, please Curators, I understand your concern but we still have time to rectify the situation.” She could feel the sweat on her brow, the standard Curate had been in utter chaos since the start of their previous meeting, lone cries detesting the Iylmirix policy had quickly grown into a full partisan split as the once superior Fepâk found themselves at the end seat of the table in Asilic Politics. She’d barely started and already the stifled air of partisanship was threatening to stagnate the talks completely. “This is madness!” “Lawspeaker what do you plan to do about this?! Riots across the Ahnsijnate at quota increases put into place with barely a majority vote of the standard Curate? A rebounding isolationist policy we can barely support economically, again put into place with only a modicum of support! You have to take responsibility—“ “You’re one to talk Fepâk heretic! For decades you all had the gaining will of the Ahnsijn behind you but now look, your bloc’s broke down and suddenly great Earthquakes and the Black Horde surges toward the Capitol. Don’t blame us for readying our nation for the worst!” “For all we know, this is their fault.” One cried out as more voices joined in, Northerners, all tired of Southern and Central progressives threatening their way of life; and suddenly they had a scapegoat like no other. “Silence!” The law speaker called out, “We will not submit to Anarchy! Have you forgotten who we are? We are the Asil, the proud men and women of God! We are the High society! I believe, with respect, that it is now time we begin to act as such.” Murmurs continued regardless, but with several glares from the Lawspeaker the room grew quiet. “Now, I request to call forward the prestigious Xiri Tauo, for his report and analysis of the most pressing issue, the South.” A lone man wearing a thin Taxyia stepped forward, straightening his long robes he cleared his throat, removing a scroll from an interior pocket, “Thank you, Lawspeaker, from what all reports have been gathered, I have here a compilation of the different issues facing the Southern Thaur. To begin with, the so-called “Black Horde” has, too our knowledge, reached as far as Ixaleft and is currently threatening the security of the Ixthenpijn Central-Cavern and it’s capitol of Jodenhaur. The Horde attack seems to come in two phases; first, a passive dark-substance we’ve nicknamed “Komuan” —Night-Spot— fills the water in an area, flowing in from the point of attack. Komuan is a toxic substance that transmits a mutagenic disease on contact; Komuan also toxifies the water it touches, which then flows into the soil. This is confirmed by reports from Tzypet, where massive die-offs of crops have taken place. The second phase of the attack involves a variety of different organisms; the ones we’ve successfully documented so far only include the “Long-Necks” and an armored variant. The Variant takes on the appearance of a lizard or the surface animal known as a “Turtoiz”, with hardened scales and a domed head. The Long-Necks have squat bodies and long, snake-like necks ranging anywhere from 2-3 meters in length — most frightening here however is that the beast lacks a formal head, the tip of the neck simply splitting vertically to part an array of teeth—“ “Enough of the descriptions, Tauo,” the Lawspeaker raised her hand, all around her looks of horror and disgust had replaced any other emotion in the room. “Erm-of course, as I was saying—“ • • • • • • • Several Days Ago • • • • • • • • • “They were planning this, I swear.” “Hush it.” The pair walked side by side through the garden, ornate metal “ears” on their T’kaul gleaming in the firelight. The soft glow of the standard Curate Amphitheater lowering in the distance as they walked toward the edge of the capitol’s temple complex. All around them the light sounds of insects and trickling streams hummed, the smell of the gardens flora was equally calming. “But you’ve got too see the signs too right?” “Not. Now Duuma.” “Vadyia—“ Grabbing his arm, Vadyia pulled Zolm to the side of the path way, sharp stems of the towering lichenous trees pocked into the back of neck. “Not here. Not now. Do you understand that? Not when the very ears of God are hovering right. above. us.” She gestured back, the gargantuan Ziggurat — Axthen’imlaaz — towered behind them, the gold-leaf strands making up the Ihlmekt on its 4 large banners glowed with a ferverence. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Turning again to the prospect of southern Rebellion—“ Xiri began again, “it has come to the attention of General Kabraul, who I believe is here today to attest to this, that there is a noticeable increase in southern tensions, especially in regards to both the death of the 315th Ahnsijn, Ahkmeniid Xy’aīl Itmunhotaf, and the Quota increase as a result of the Iylmirix Edict. Noticeable protest has come fourth in several southern Thaur, such as Shaka’hraum, Vnau, Ilmoro’a, and Katama’uul. It must be stated for the record, that never before, has a full point against the concept of Rebellion been truly impossible to give…” Xiri paused as murmers flowed around the room, “however, both myself and my associates, as well as all Generals present, believe that such a heightened state of protest can be easily quelled with the troops given.” • • • • • • • Vnau Thaur, Ahkmaur River • • • • • • • • • The roar of the crowd continued to grow as they reached the interior of Zambfora. They weren’t just crying out in unrelenting anger anymore, they had organized. Already, Fepâk and Kaubora (Revolutionary) Priests and Scribes had taken to their side, rallying with them defectors from the Warrior-Caste with an equal amount of mismatched loyalties. The sound of metal clashed through the main square as opposing squadrons of Warrior-Caste met on their own front, Asilic blood already staining their home soil. Soldiers and Farmers alike gritted their teeth, the familiar clicking of echolocation audible through the cries of the masses. Torches and braziers were targeted first, shields of smoke were quickly used to hide their small offensives into the city. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Regardless,” the Lawspeaker began, “should we not be ready for such an event? With the Black Horde already marching north, a rebellion in the heartland could cripple us completely and leave us open to attack.” “Actually, with due respect,” started General Kabraul, “I believe we may have a solution to that. • • • • • • • • Outside the Saavuur Thaur, Ahkmaur River • • • • • • • • “Vadyia I hope you know what your doing.” The light wood and canvas of the egg-shaped carriage shook and swayed with the beast beneath it. Similar to a beetle, with a surprising amount of speed it had been carrying the group of Asilic Revolutionaries toward the south for the past several days. By this point they were forced to hurry, as they knew the order to assemble the High Curate had probably just been released, as such it was mere days behind them. Simply put, if it passed them they’d be forced to turn around and all their efforts would fail. “So do I.” She brushed hair out of her face, having taken off her T’kaul while in the carriage. Her arms felt electric as her own anxiety about everything around her came ever closer toward reality, “If what the messenger said was true, there are already riots in Olthaid.” Kakaruul, a Scribe caste among them coughed nervously, “Yea there’s that, but again, if we can’t get the rest of the Priesthood on our side…” “We’ll get them. End of story.” Vadyia said sternly • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “A-are you serious?” A lone voice stammered. “Completely.” The General retorted, “Simply put, if we maintain and train our forces here, the southern rebels would have to respond to the Black Horde before us. Right as their about to fall, we make a push south to engage both them and the Horde, as by that point both sides would have their numbers significantly thinned. This also means that we would keep a size-able military force to quell the possibility of other Revolts cropping up closer to the Capitol." The Curate broke out into discussion almost immediately as the thought of the plan began to take place. Use the rebels as a shield? After all the increased waiting period would allow for a much larger and better trained force to be sent south… “It would also, coincidently, ensure that such a major Rebellion could be easily put off, and would give us more than enough leeway to reestablish our own power in the region.” “Absolutely not!” A group of men and women began to march into the center of Amphitheater, “We cannot allow the Southern people, our people, to be used as some meatsheild for your northern machinations! It is unholy! Unjust! And unacceptable in any angle of the eye of the lord!” The group was quickly sided with by other Southern Curators, voices of protest quickly breaking out amongst the group. General Kabraul turned to the Lawspeaker, who nodded her head. Standing, the women made eye contact with several Guards by the door. Her fingers snapped parallel to the familiar sound of drawn blades. • • • • • • • • Katama’uul Thaur, Ahkmaur River • • • • • • • • The sound of the mob continued to grow as the eight of them practically flew through the interior of the Temple. Vadyia was at the lead, accompanied by two other Guards, behind her was Kakaruul and his associates. Hopefully, Duuma was finishing his task and had secured the Thaur’s Northern Harbor. The sound of torches crackled as they hurried, now more or less speed-walking, down the stone hallway. Carvings of religious calligraphy and symbology flowed along the clean-cut stones. She slowed, the bronze door in front of her standing menacingly, nodding to the two guards outside it she breathed a sigh of relief at how fast her orders had travelled. Straightening her robes, she took a breath in to calm herself before opening the doors. The mixture of Warrior-Caste and armed scribes moved in around the octagonal room. Inside was a series of tables, alongside one in the center covered in maps with a ring of Priests looking over it. The turned around in shock as they were surrounded; “Vadyia?!” one of them stammered, “Girl what is the meaning of this?!” “I’m sorry Brother Harriyix,” she cocked her head to the side, giving a sly smile, “I guess you could consider this a hostile takeover?”
Kahmpet Border Fortress, Kfam’brum
“They’re Kuora people?” Dijn sized up the woman in front of her, looking toward Kayahn she continued in An’soal, “she can’t be serious?” Behind her, the ramparts of the fortress began to fill with guards, archers, as the warning call she sent earlier came into affect. Dijn looked at the woman, Tahra, in front of her and pulled a thin scroll out of her belt, responding in the woman’s tongue; “A policy of Iylmirix, Closed-Country, has been implemented. Goods and Persons may not attempt to transit through way-stations without Authority-sanctioning. Border Transit is hereby forbidden, and outsiders are to be driven away. You’ll find no passage or haven here, Kuora, no one may enter the Ahnsij—“ She caught her breath as the rest of the Kuora, no, the things came into view. Ozenakael?! Homunculi, this close to the interior? What on God’s name where they?! Kayahn drew her weapon, “What do they want?” she hissed in An’soal “Passage.” Dijn retorted, ignoring the outsiders look as they communed in their native tongue. Her eyes widened as one of the Homunculi started to move closer, drawing her Daekall, a form of shortsword, she pointed it at the creature, speaking directly to Tahra, “Tell it to stay back.”
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 11, 2018 6:57:21 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Camelon Castle - Lexidus
The halls of the castle were lit by an uneven glow of torch and sun light. Windows were few and far between in the inner levels of the castle, due to its ancient construction. Built in 331ABL, a hundred years after the formation of the Kingdom of Camelon, the castle had stood for over 800 years without siege. A staunch symbol of the might that was Lexidus lineage.
"Believe it or not, this whole castle was the project of Queen Yola the First, your great-great grandmother." Proclaimed Blair as he strode through the castle, Leanabh walking beside him; listening intently. "Our first queen was a keen builder, she loved to make small defensive structures out of wood and stone and present them to her elders, she wanted to be a mason when she grew up." Blair sighed, as they turned a corner and approached a large door. "Alas it was not to be, her brothers all died in combat and she was made heir-apparent, forced to rule over Camelon in a time of strife." Opening the door, the two of them were met with a rush of wind and sunshine as they stepped into the castle courtyard. "Thankfully, not only did she rise to the challenge, she then proceeded to lay the real groundwork for what would become our nation."
Surrounded by the rest of the castle, the central courtyard was a island of green in a sea of gray. Flowers and plants, a plethora of exuberant colours, adorned the borders of the grass. Sheer white pebbles laid out a path through the courtyard, leading in a straight line before forming a circle around the centre piece before splitting off into four different directions, each leading east, west, south and north back into the castle. The sound of the pebbles crunching under their feet was met with gentle bird song and a faint rustle of leaves. Leanabh stared in awe at the centre piece of the courtyard, it was like a thick and misshapen wooden pole with some green parchment attached to it on top. She had seen a couple of them by now but hadn't the courage to ask what they were, regardless what they were called; this one was grand and beautiful.
"...they planted that tree over her grave. She's the only monarch to have been buried in the castle's soil." Blair found his voice drifting, his mind somewhere else. He snapped himself back to reality and turned to the girl, smiling. "One day all of this, will be yours Leana."
Leanabh tilted her head slightly, she didn't understand what he meant.
"Mine?"
"Aye, yours. What's a queen without a castle?" Chuckled Blair as he turned to stare at the grand oak tree.
"Me, a queen?" Her face was furrowed in confusion. "What about your lineage? Your children?"
Blair didn't turn to her, instead he stood tracing the lines of the tree with his gaze, his hand held behind his back. "Don't have any. Besides, might not have any, hard to say at this point. Maybe I will, maybe I wont." He finally turned to her after a pause, his smile was more melancholic. "Between you and me, my cousins aren't the brightest sparks and are under a certain person's thumb... someone who should have no say in any country matter, lest they be a cruel ruler."
Leana's brow was still furrowed, a mixture of confusion and fear filled her heart. Blair kneeled down to be on her eye level and held her shoulders. "I may reign for another 25 years, maybe even 50 but what if I don't? These are quiet times and where there is peace, there can also be complacency."
A servant entered the courtyard and politely interrupted. "My liege, a group of travellers seek your audience, they're a diplomatic delegation of the southern nation of the Dual Kingdom."
Leana stared intently at Blair, desperately trying to piece together what was being told to her.
"Something wrong is coming Leanabh, I've felt this for quite some time now. If something happens to me or the country. You need to be ready."
The two of them stared at each other for while before hugging, both a little scared of what might come. Behind them the grand tree rustled. A single leaf then fell and landed on the sheer white pebbles below, wilted.
Ruby Hollins, The Fourth Island - The Southus Strait
"ARRRRGGHHH THIS HEAT IS UNBEARABLE!" Wailed a drenched with sweat Ruby as she desperately hid under the shade of the mast. The sun was beating down over the crew, some lethargically working on deck and others bathing in the sun's rays. Andross replied with a grunt as he shifted crates about, his golden brown tan now a much darker shade.
"Could be worse madam. This bloody island could have been an absolute hell like the last one."
The island was small and more beach than land, Ruby thought. What little land there was is yellowing grass and a few palm trees, no wildlife in sight. It might make for a good fishing spot and fishery she wondered, but not much else.
"If it's any consolation for ye. We're approaching the half way point and its only going to get cooler from here!"
Ruby scribbled more notes in her log, shifting slightly to the right to avoid the encroaching sunlight as the ship began to sail once again.
Grand Magisters Drake and Griffon, Bluxa - Lexidus
Drake's nerves were frayed, for for half a month he and Griffon had the Grand Temple on lock down. No one was allowed in or out as they purged as much corruption as they could from the sight. Yrutas' corruption had seeped from the corrupted seer and infected the structure as the earthquake had hit. A couple of apprentices and mages found themselves infected, they were promptly executed by Griffon, Drake had merely watched on in horror. Before long, over 50 people lay dead and burning in a pyre, the lock down finally lifted and outside contact made with the rest of the city.
"We tell them nothing Drake." Stated a cold Griffon as Drake slumped into a chair, rubbing his weary eyes, he looked terrible and pale. He wanted to protest but was too tired and nerve racked.
"...we need to tell the king about this Haylee..." muttered Drake as he wiped his sweat glistened forehead. Griffon closed the door behind her, Drake didn't notice her locking the door.
"We'll tell our liege in all due time Drake, now..." She turned in place to look at her equal, her face was stoic and clear, she was handling this situation well he thought. She sat opposite of him, her upright posture contrasting against Drake's lethargy. "...how long have you heard the voices Drake."
His heart dropped, he began to shake and his eyes water. He thought he had hidden it well enough. It clearly wasn't enough. "I-I'm-I'm sick Haylee..."
"What is Yrutas whispering in your mind." She stated, loud and clear, staring into his tearful eyes.
He wanted to lie, to say it was stress and him having breakdown but... he couldn't. His mind was filled with the infected seer's laughter and wailing, its black eyes haunting him and infecting his mind, like moss rapidly growing over stone.
"SPEAK FOR GODDESS SAKE DOMINIC!!" Her visage melted and she shook in fear and grief for what she needed to do.
"...he's coming." Drake muttered, letting go of his mind from struggle and resistance, his eyes becoming pitch black. "Yrutas is coming... for us all."
Black tears began to fall from his eyes as Griffon stood, her hand raising an ice spike from a blue glow within it. She held back her tears.
"Make it quick, wont you Haylee?" Whimpered Drake as corruption began to consume him.
"I will, Dominic."
A passing apprentice could have sworn he heard an ice blast spell down the hall, he didn't heed it. Later he passed Grand Magister Griffon down a hallway and thought her eyes looked wet, he didn't heed it. Peering out his dorm window, the apprentice noticed another body being added to the pyre, he recognised its face.
He did not want to heed it.
|
|
|
Post by Andromitus on Jun 11, 2018 12:58:31 GMT -5
Yuln, Ixthenpijn
The smell of ozone and stone-dust was still thick in the air as the fires raged below them. The lone shot had flown through the sky, ember sparks catching every gleam of light before descending on the now trapped Horde. Blue and White flames licked either side of the channel now, darks shapes writhed in agony as their flesh, magic, and souls were caught in the voracious grip of Alchemical Fire. Alzeih had never seen it before, the substance in real use, although she had heard of it. She grimaced as one of the beasts managed to climb onto a crag of rocks, managing to croak out a growl before it was engulfed. “Alzeih.” With a start she turned around and simply froze. They were kneeling, the Soldiers and Conscripts, with their heads bowed — apart from the commander, whose eyes remained averted. She squinted her eyes, they were whispering something, and…what where they kneeling to? Her?! • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • She didn’t feel right in her own skin, the group of them marching back toward Jodenhaur — the battle in the distance seeming too have died down to a Hunter-Seeker project as the stragglers of the Horde were mopped up. But, they weren’t marching back as Comrades, she was being escorted, one behind her, two to either side, and the commander in front. Orange lights of the city quickly entrapped them as they neared it, remaining civilians and soldiers alike looking in confusion at the spectacle in front of them. “Did you see the lightning? It just dissipated, it never even reached the the Gate…” Her eyes went fuzzy for a moment, her anxiety was killing her. It was like every other eye bored into her soul. The convoy around her stopped suddenly, and she blinked in surprise as she walked into the back of the Commander; Now alert, she noticed the building in front of them, the Jodenhaur Temple. It was like most others in Asil, a 3-Story Ziggurat, two 90° walls cut into the slanted second level on each of it’s four sides playing host to the Kyasii Banner. Around her the construction of the inner city towered above, members of the Middle and Upper-Caste walking outside to see the procession of soldiers moving inward. It wasn’t just them at this point, the Commander had ordered a much larger procession to join him as they marched toward the Thaur’s capitol city. They’d also met up with several other Commanders, each of them and their significantly smaller groups marching to meet the General. They stopped again, this time the trapezoidal entrance into the temple careened above them — the Commander turned and ordered the group, apart from her, to stay where they were as he moved inward. Barely glancing at her, he motioned for her to follow him. It was a slight in the air but she could tell, something was wrong. As they traveled into the inner hall, the air grew in tension until she breathed in at the sight. There was a group of men and women, in a mixture of robes and similar “Commander” outfits, huddled around a central table.
“The General’s dead?” One of the men burst out “Sh! Keep your voice down, we need to act now, and fast.” The Commander again motioned for her to follow him as he joined in the circle, warning no less then a view confused looks, although he waived them away without another real thought. After a moment, the real meeting began and the various commanders began to spit out their messages — How the stores had fared, troop counts, available supplies until finally there was only two black sheep left. The General, and of course, Her. “I can’t stay silent any longer,” one of them broke out, “Commander A’yill, why have you brought a conscript with you.” The man rolled his eyes, and attempted to change the subject, “First, we should review protocol regarding the General, don’t you agree?” “No,” another voice broke out, “We have that covered, we’re performing an Assembly, the Priesthood is in the room to contribute, everything is in order. What’s not in order, is you.” “Is that not the same Conscript from before,” it was Alkahm this time and a nod went around the room, “The one that warned us about the potential for a northern offensive? “A’yill, tell us what’s going on.” The man paused, gritting his teeth, and breathed in, “I don’t know. Roughly 4 Hours ago at the start of the battle, my brigade was travelling to relay with the Southern Brigades when we heard long-neck screeching. But, by the time we rounded the bend, here she is, drenched in blood, khapez in hand, and the corpse of the beast behind her.” He paused for a moment to secure his thoughts, in the meanwhile every eye stared at Alzeih. “Impressive, yes, but is this a reason to bring her into what is supposed to be a secure meeting?” “Let me finish, Vakaia, this woman, Alzeih, then informed both myself and Commander Alkahm of the potential for the Horde to choose the Northern Route to attack. Quite frankly, this battle would have been very different without her assistance.” another murmur went around the room, “Alzeih was also the one who lit the Brazier on the Gate-Fortress, which attracted that harbor…monster, to the gate where it was crushed by collapsing debris from my own actions.” “You’re own actions?” “Midway through the battle, I received an order from the General to blow down the Gate, which would trap the horde outside the Thaur, leaving them open to an Alchemical barrage.” “Very good work of you in that case, A’yill—“ “One more thing, it was Alzeih that the beast fired at — she was the one that deflected its electrical attack.” The room froze, and every eye turned to her. Shrinking back a little, she saw that even the Priests not the balcony above them were communing together. One of the female commanders that had been talking earlier, Vakaia, spoke first, “A’yill…you’re serious?” He nodded. “Is there anything else you can tell us?” With a start everyone looked toward the balcony above them, one of the Priests, noticeable by his Green & Purple attire and T’kaul had just spoken. He was old, slightly wrinkled features with a rapidly greying beard, and he was looking directly at Alzeih. “N-no…” A’yill started before the man raised his hand to stop him. “Not you. Her?” Another one of the Priests said, annoyed at the Commanders impertinence. She could barely manage to speak, let alone look at the man — someone of her Caste usually wasn’t confronted by a more senior member of the Priest-Caste apart from those at their local temples. This, all of it, was a lot to take in all at once. “No…Brother” “Wait,” Vakaia interjected, “Could it not have just been the Gates enhancements that blocked the magic? It was still at least partially intact and…” “And I guess it was the Gate that helped her kill not just a long-neck on her own, but also call the enemies bluff? And kill the Harbor monster?” A’yill pushed back, before looking back at the Priest who’d been contemplating for a moment, turning back to his colleagues before looking down on them again. The man, with a turn, straightened his robe and curved around the room before walking down the stone steps toward the rest of them. “Sister,” He started, “I ask that you follow me, if possible my colleagues and I would hope to…well, observe you.” Alzeih blinked before nodding her head; with that sign the Priest looked to one of his comrades, “Brother, I ask that you contact the other Temple-Priests of our new arrival.” Without a response the man bowed his head before walking calmly off to his new duty. The pair waited a moment before Alzeih found herself moving with the Priest toward the stairs, murmurs of approval and confusion rising behind her, answered quickly by one of the other Temple-Priests. “This is of the utmost importance, Brothers, of course; after all an arrival of someone that fits her current description, especially after the grave news from the Capitol, I say, cannot be a minor coincidence.” Another murmur went around the room and the Priest realized his mistake, apparently the now deceased General had neglected to inform his commanders of the most recent news. “A-hem, my apologize, Brothers and Sisters, for what your General neglected to inform you. The Ahnsijn is dead.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • They walked for only a few minutes down the corridor before reaching a room similar to a library, with three stories and rows of metal, hexagonal cubicles each filled with scrolls. The Ixthenpijn Records, potentially thousands of scrolls all neatly tucked away into the barrows of it’s High Temple. Awaiting them were an array of instruments, and six other Priests of varying rank, age, and gender. The man she followed, someone she assumed as High Priest, or of similar Rank, put his hand on her back and gestured to a hexagonal indent in the floor, its 6 sides carved into cushioned sofas, the floor cut with Asilic Calligraphy — in fact much of the building was as such, the ground stained shades of Dark Green and Gold and layered with endless rows of Calligraphy, complemented by the walls, with Diamonds of art on every other stone. Taking a seat, a woman sat on the seat beside her, “Hello, Sister…may I ask how you’re feeling.” Alzeih looked at the woman in confusion, “I don’t understand Sister, I—“ “It’s okay to speak freely here,” the High Priest started, “This is Zaham, please answer her questions.” She nodded her head, it felt better to finally be given a command, this open-ended Middle-Caste treatment was more than a little discomforting, “A bit nervous, to say the least, sister; I, i’m a bit confused as to what’s going on really.” Zaham nodded her head, “that’s understandable, do you mind, Sister Alzeih, if you take off you’re armor?” She nodded her head, removing her helmet she couldn’t help but notice a slight widening of the eyes as they saw how low in Caste she was, as if her accent didn’t already really betray that. She kept on the boots, belt, and red waist-tunic, but removed her breastplate, armband, and grieves. She grimaced slightly as the High Priest pointed to her armband, which she removed and looked a-scant. “You’re of the Laborer-Caste?” She nodded, slowly. “Sit, Sister;” Zaham commanded softly, this certainly explained why this “Alzeih”, was so hesitant to speak and look at them all, “What is your Grade. And your profession?” “Servant; I’m an oil worker.” And with that the High Priest burst into laughter — it was a good, hearty laugh and, still smiling, he sat on the bench opposite Alzeih. “Forgive my laughter, Sister, but such is the Glories of God; granting any in his Hierarchy with the most unique of gifts.” he gestured for the other Priests to get to work. Placed on floor —Above her as she sat in an indent— was a thin device made of a mixture of a gold-bronze substance, and a bright blue crystal. Objects of similar material were placed around her until something akin to a Compass, although it had rings of the blue substance at either side of where it’s needle would be, was placed in front of her. The device sat still for a moment and Alzeih noticed the difference in the air. There were no smiles, no laughs; all eyes were on the device on the lower floor at her feet. “Sister Alzeih, would you please pick that up, at your feet, and hold it still in your lap.” The High Priest stated slowly, if not calculatedly. She did as she was told and the device spun slowly, gears clicking audibly, as the effects of gravity and motion came into play before it slowed to a neutral positions again and sat calmly in her lap. Her eyes turned back to the device by her head, a metal frame of the corners of a pyramid supporting a blue, quartz like crystal. It was the same color as the rings of the device in her hand. She turned down suddenly as that very device began to turn, the rings on either side of the marker turning parallel to her, and a collective sigh of relief came over the room. “Thank you, Sister, we just had to be sure.” That was when it dawned on her — they were testing her for magic. “My Sister,” the Priest began, “With such unpleasantries out of the way, would you mind talking to us about your affinity?” “My affinity, Brother?” “Yes,” picked up Zaham, “from what i’ve heard you seem to have quite the affinity for action; calling out a wild-beasts feint, tricking a horror into it’s own death.” “Actually, Sister, I’m surprised i’m alive at all; with all the rushing around I wasn’t able to perform any of my daily prayer, I thought for certain I wouldn’t make it through the Cycle.” The High Priest stroked his beard for a moment, “Interesting; so apart from the obvious, it seems that this gift of yours is more shrouded than I previously believed…Interesting in deed.” “Brother?” “God comes to us in many ways, Sister, he is a Muse after all. We must work and toil for his answers.” Alzeih looked down at the device in her hand, really because there was nothing else to look at; was all of this really happening? Being blessed, winning a battle…it seemed like a winding fever dream. “Sister?” Alzeih look up, the High Priest looked her directly in the eye, “I’d like to try something.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Are you sure, Brother?” she said; the High Priests plan made sense, yes, but it seemed…well just wrong given her position. The High Priest didn’t answer, choosing simply to continue down the ornate stone halls back into the central meeting room in a strange silence. She shook her head, God knows what he was thinking at this point. The passageway curved slightly and they were engulfed in the light of the Meeting room; they were met immediately with a few glances but the Commanders quickly got back to work with a mere look by the High Priest. “Brother I—“ she started softly, but the man was already moving to convene with the other Priests. Tapping her foot, she found herself pulled toward the stone table. She was of course cautious at first, her motion was more serpentine than actually just walking up, but soon enough she found herself looking down at a series of maps she’d never seen, and vertical columns of text which she couldn’t read. Although several markers stuck out, she recognized the character for “Ixthenpijn”, so that dot there must be…Yuln? That’s the symbol for “Abyan” and “Tzypet”… “Well as I pointed out before, no matter our decision we still have a several month waiting period to get the blockage out of the way.” “No we don’t.” She blurted out, before even realized she spoke. Her look of surprise matched those of the other Commanders before one of them, A’yill responded, “How do you mean, Sister?” Did he just refer to her formally? “Erhm, well, well brother if we curve this way,” Her hand traced up the canals from Yuln through Jodenhaur before reaching the Southern Ixthenpijn Gate, “If we open the Southern Gate we could travel through the Southeastern Tunnels too…Tzypet.” “You want us to open the Gate? After just surviving an assault?” One voice burst out, “That’s insanity!” “Well-erm..” Is there a reason, God, she thought, that my anxiousness has to trigger now, of all times “Let her speak.” Another voice, Alkahm’s, called out “Well, the enemy force has just been more or less destroyed, meaning two things: 1, they’re trying to encircle us by attacking smaller settlements away from Jodenhaur, meaning we would have to cut them off in the Southeastern Tunnels anyway; Or, 2, they don’t have that large of a force, and have since pulled back to recuperate. Either way, in both scenarios we have to travel West toward the enemy, and from the map…er, Tzypet looks big enough to have supplies for us.” “Wait, let me fill you in,” A’yill was the first to respond, opening several scrolls in response, “From what we know, the enemy force has completely overrun Abyan, that’s how they amassed such a force as to reach us here. That means we need to perform a naval landing in Abyan, but we don’t have the resources for that.” “Hence, Tzypet?” She responded “No. We wait for reinforcements from the north.” One of the men stated gruffly “Brother, did we not just…There are no reinforcements! They. Are. Months. Away.” “Besides,” Alkahm’s voice broke out, “that was before we thought about the Tzypet plan.” “That doesn’t change the fact that we’ve no way to lead Warbeasts into this new western offensive without animals, troops, and supplies from the North. After all, it’s not as if we can just keep dropping Gate’s on the Horde.” “Warbeasts?” Alzeih asked, hesitantly “Yes, we’ve four whole divisions of K’kasa riders as well as almost 98 total trained Aoxia’a. But the issue then is food, Aoxia’a are predatory and rather volatile to be honest.” “You’re just bias, A’yill.” “I’m Bias? You train the god-forsaken things!” “Why can’t we bring them first to Tzypet to restock?” Alzeih asked “Because, Sister, most of our military ships were destroyed after the first two offensives failed.” She paused for a moment, there was just too much she didn’t know — and why where they even listening too her anyway? “What if we secure civilian ships. I know for a fact that there are Cargo Haulers in the farming regions for grain distribution.” Her eyes fell on the High Priest who nodded with approval. “There is that.” He started, “However, we can always send a messenger to surrounding territories to meet our Armada at Tzypet.” The High Priest finished flatly, quickly followed by murmurs and mumbling of approval. “Are we in agreement then?” A’yill started, “Of this ‘Tzypet Plan’?” With nods of approval, a singular phrase fell around the room. “Aēl Ih’man.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • “Brother A’yill.” The soft voice of an old man called out too him. Around them the buzz of people and urban fauna was near overpowering; the multi-story trapezoidal buildings of the Jodenhaur Interior where awash with clay reds, golds, blues, and greens, greatly complementing the tall trunks, vines, and roots of the cities lichenous flora reaching from the tiniest glowing bulbs, to towering stalks higher than the taller buildings. The Commander turned around only to see the Green, Gold, and Purple attire of the High Priest, his white beard adorned with twin bands of Gold; “Brother A’yill, sit with me.” the man continued slowly and softly, each step calm and calculated as they began to move through the city, down several steps and onto a thin terrace. It was a small rectangle cut into the between-section terrace separating the Far and Middle Interiors of the city by height. The Priest sat on one of several flat stones on the ground, looking down onto a thin pool of water. “Excuse me, Brother,” A’yill started, “But I really must be readying for the departure.” “What you must be ready for, Brother A’yill, is a word of advice.” “Hm?” “It’s the Girl, Alzeih.” The Commander paused, what could the old-man mean? “What…what about her, Brother?” “She is young.” “I can see that.” “And of Lower Caste, Brother,” the old man breathed in, “she lacks the knowledge she requires. She knows very little, but she see’s quite a lot.” A’yill looked into the pond, he knew what the Priest was talking about, “What do you want of me?” He asked cautiously. “I want you to guide her.”
“…” “You seem to see something similar in her as I do, do you not?” A’yill sat still for a moment, “Yes, she’s gotten lucky, what…4? 5 times now?” “God’s work is far more than Luck, Brother.”
|
|
|
Post by thevalleianorders on Jun 11, 2018 17:54:26 GMT -5
Part Five Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles; Southern Expeditionary Fleet: “Of course, your Majesty,” Alexiana replied with a continued regality. “The Southern Expedition hails from the Valleian Orders under the new command of the recently coronated Imperator Aparaius. The Various Orders have been managing peaceful life in partnership with the many Imperators for around 500 years. Unfortunately, this time of peace was ruptured by a horrible earthquake, the cause of which is currently unknown. To both open up the Various Orders to communication with other Realms and investigate the cause of the quakes, three expeditions were sent out to investigate this catastrophe, us being one of them. If they may, would you now allow the Investigatory Committee to speak?” “Yes, they may speak,” King Godred said. “I shall begin with a few brief questions,” replied Tenniya, the head of the Investigatory Committee for the Southern Expedition. Alexiana looked down as she began, “First off, do you believe that your people have the ability to cause such devastation as is evident in the Holy Empire of the Valleian Orders? Second off, do you have any intentions of malice towards our most Holy Imperator, his government, his territories, and the Orders he governs? Lastl-“ “That is quite enough, Tenniya. Do you have not the ability to notice some of the devastation that has occurred here also?” Alexiana interrupted. “Let the King speak for his people before you flood his Majesty with more questions.” Subsequently, Tenniya stepped aside and cast her eyes down. Godred chuckled. “I’m sorry, I apologize if that was rude. To answer your questions, no, the Dual Kingdom does not have the power to cause massive devastation to the Valleian Orders. And if you’re referring to the recent earthquake, that was certainly not our doing. Our major cities were spared due to strong construction, but our villages and towns weren’t so lucky. It sounds like you even passed by some of those devastated settlements on your way here.” “I can confirm all of that,” said a clean-shaven figure of purple complexion. “Oh, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Burnett Stone, Chief Driver of the Dual Kingdom and head of the Dual Kingdom’s magic community. It is an honor to meet you all.” “As for whether we have any ill-intentions or malice toward your nation or your Holy Imperator,” Godred went on, “we do not. It would be hard for us to have ill-intentions toward a nation we weren’t even sure existed until now; it had been so long since our nations were in contact, we thought you might have collapsed or fallen into civil discord. All we want is to protect our own interests and our own people, and if you feel the same way, we can be firm friends.” “It seems as if they also have no knowledge as to what may have caused this disaster to both of our nations,” Grygorie commented aloud, much to the surprise of many in the court. “Why don’t they just join us in these investigations?” “That may actually be an interesting proposal, Grygorie,” Alexiana replied. “How about this: We shall invite your nation into our investigations, allowing for joint ventures into the North for the cause of finding the truth behind this catastrophe. To aid in our future communication, perhaps we can even leave a Crystal here in your capital?” The King of the Isles smiled. “We’d be happy to assist in this investigation,” he said, “as we are just as baffled by the cause of this event as you are. You are welcome to leave this ‘crystal’ in the capital, but what does it do? It sounds like it is some sort of communication device?” “In fact it is, your Majesty,” one of the Ecclesiastical Committee immediately replied. “By the indefinite dedication of Vytyye and the Crystals such a ritual produces, Prystyrs can communicate instantaneously between other Crytals. This is how mostly all information passes through our Empire.” “So, shall it be settled then?” Alexiana questioned. “We shall leave our Crystal here in the Capital along with the delegation that may use it, your nation will be allowed to partake in our now joint investigations, and you will not be suspected as a potential cause of this catastrophe that now (hopefully) lies behind us!” Godred nodded. “Yes, all of this is quite agreeable,” he said. “I believe we have a deal. I also believe we could strengthen ties between our nations and better assist in the investigation if we had our own delegation in your lands. Will you grant us permission to establish an embassy within the borders of your nation?” “Yes, you may set up an “embassy” in our capital Edinginia” the Aurytyr replied. Such had never been done before in the history of the Empire. “Now, with your permission, we shall quickly run this deal through with the Imperator via Crystal. Are there any unoccupied chambers that can house our Crystal around your Castle?” “Certainly,” Godred replied. “The South Hall is out the throne room door, down the hall, third door on your left. It’s not our biggest hall, but it should have plenty of room for your delegation and your crystal. Burnett Stone can escort you there, if you’d like.” “That would more than suffice,” Alexiana replied, slightly bowing. “Consider the deal accepted; the Imperator will most certainly have it Decreed.” At that, Burnett Stone escorted the Southern Expedition’s Committees out of the throne room. -------------------------- Nurrtexia Proper, Northern Territories: Fire. Smoke. Rubble. That was what remained of the once grand City of Nurrtexia, the Capital of the Northern Territories. Once grand streets have been turned into craters and ravines, shaken up by the quakes. Cobbles were pushed aside into rubble piles, intermingling with the fallen sandstone bricks that at one time were integral parts of large buildings. The former edifices of the city now existed in this catatonic state. Ashes of the mighty timbers topped off these unfortunate burial mounds, for the fire that was set to fend of against monsters took one third of the city down with the monster. The urban landscape that used to bulge out of the walls now lay in ruins, a shell of its former self. “Dye, Synn, Dye, Synn, Halt!” Myyrtyr Gyr ordered his men. He marched to the front of the columns of the First Legion of the Territorial Defense of the Empire and decreed, “We stand in front of this ruined city that we were unable to defend in its time of strife. Thus, I command that all of you enter it, and pull it out from the grave that it now lies in! Cohorts, ready!” “Cohorts Ready!” each Cohort of 150 men replied. In total, 10 cohorts had reported to the Myyrtyr Gyr. “Cohorts, Disperse!” Myytyr Gyr ordered his men once more, and they began to march into the city. The ten Cohorts marched up the remains of the avenue that lead to the Dual Gates. Slowly but steadily, they began to see what was left of the buildings there. Citizens that hid in the few buildings that still stood slowly leaked out, noticing that these strangers were actually there to help them.The soldiers turned around one of the street corners and were met with the sight of a makeshift tent-city. Cloths, blankets, and sails were stretched up on lone pillars, masts, and structural timbers, forming rudimentary dwellings for the survivors. Some soldiers looked to where the walls were supposed to stand, and only saw a large pile of stone and ash. “Cohort One, distribute emergency goods to the citizens here.” Myytyr Gyr ordered. “Cohorts Two and Three, accompany Cohort One!” Those respective groups of soldiers then started to distribute food, medical supplies, fresh clothes, and clean water. Myttyr Gyr continued, “Cohorts Four, Five, Six, and Seven, patrol and survey the streets. Assist in the clearing of ground and initiate rebuilding efforts.” Those men marched off and dispersed, taking notes of the sorry condition of the urban landscape. “Cohorts Eight, Nine, and Ten, ready the docks for the arrival of ships,” Myttyr Gyr ordered again, “Ships must be entering port by sundown.” They then hurriedly marched through where the Dual Gates would have stood, made a sharp turn, and disappeared from sight. Distant cheers were heard throughout the city as the isolated citizens began to see the army make their way through. “With the Grace of the Concordiat, this city will be up and running without delay,” Myytyr Gyr thought to himself as he and a small detachment marched to the ruins of a Belfry. “Get this Crystal operational immediately,” he barked at his men, and they quickly ran off to fetch the Prystyrs that were also distributing supplies. “Oh, Holy Cosigners, bless us!”
|
|
|
Post by Vista Major, MP on Jun 12, 2018 19:06:53 GMT -5
Plaza to the Gods, Adkora Capital, Aeisa'kar
"It's been a while since you've left the palace, my Chief."
Nod'ren and Torvus were walking slowly through the magnificent ice pavilion, with the Statue of the Mother and Son towering over them in the Plaza's center. Myratnis looked down on them with gentle yet piercing crystalline eyes; save for her ears and arms (which appeared like Alkin and Hyarin parts, respectively), she was quite human. Yrutas was much the same way, except he was considerably shorter than his divine counterpart, his eyes staring up to the heavens he was locked out of, his facial expression stony yet still regal. Though Myratnis had wrinkles upon her skin, Yrutas look as if he was still in his youthful prime. She wore a flowing dress, while he was garbed in heavy battle armour. She was happy, yet he was discontent.
How two gods could ever be as one was beyond foreign comprehension. But, never the less, they survived thusfar. But, now, it was as if the God of Death was barging on their theological doors. With every passing day, more and more people were feeling a greater attachment to a god they barely even know.
"It's also been a long time since I've felt any connection to the Holy Mother," Torvus replied snipily. Nod'ren narrowed his bushy eyes.
"Agitated, sir?"
"Look at my crystal, Nod'ren."
The Barskin did as was commanded: the pair stopped, and Nod'ren knelt down to look at the sapphire that hung around Delakarz's neck. He stared at it for a good minute before standing up, his eyebrow raised in perplextion.
"What's the issue, my Chief? Does it not work anymore?"
"I can do magic as well as any other mage, and, considering whatever the hell's going on in the divine world - Neavara has no answers at all herself - that's not much. But that's not it... I don't think. My sapphire is darker, Nod'ren. It gets more so by the day, and I think within a week, it'll be only a shade short of the night's sky."
"A sign of the times?"
"Perhaps so."
The two kin continued to walk, passing the brooding statue and towards the ampitheatre, where a caudron of citizens were having some sort of lively discussion. No one seemed to pay the Commander-General and Chief-Protector any mind, much to Torvus' gratitude.
"So, why else did you summon me, sir? Surely it's not just to take a stroll through the city," Nod'ren inquired. Torvus, in response, sighed and hung his head.
"Ruling is difficult."
"Obviously, sir. Need I remind you that you fought your way to the throne in the first place?"
"It's not that... The tribes barely recognize my authority, like the capital is nothing to them. Even when I try to help them rebuild - the south, especially; they were devastated after the liberation - their elders shirk me off like I'm an annoyance. Stubborn bastards."
"With all due respect, you command the Aeisakarian Forces, yet you haven't used them at all in the past month. It's like your afraid of being forceful."
Torvus' blood started to simmer, but Nod'ren persisted his verbal advance as they moved to sit in the ampitheatre.
"My sword is yours, sir. I advise you use it."
Delakarz paused. "What do you suggest?"
"Well," Ee'aka started. "The law explicitly states that whomever sits rightfully upon the throne shall be supreme authority of the land, save for the Council. And since the Council is... Eliminated, you are absolute ruler. Remember that Lexidun commander's disdain for republicanism? Well, he had a point."
"Continue."
"Aeisa'kar is in no position to bring back such bureaucratic democracy. And it's clear that the elderocracy is resistant to you, which is a violation of the law."
"You're saying I should be rid of them?"
"Indeed. There are well over seven-hundred tribes in Aeisa'kar, and each have little more than a couple thousand in each. Still, surely there are a couple among each of them that will be more than willing to do your bidding."
"That means finding hundreds of new leaders, Nod'ren. And it would have to be done swiftly; if the elders catch wind if this before we're prepared, they could revolt or worse, secede. Unless..."
"Yes, my Chief?" Nod'ren was grinning.
From his cloak, Torvus pulled out a small scroll of parchment and a crude, thin chalk pen. Immediately, he began writing on the paper in neat runic handwriting, handing it to Nod'ren once his signature was at the bottom.
"Have the scribes make as many copies of this as possible. Every elder is to be removed from their post, and their tribes placed under martial law until I lift the order. I will also do what the Council hasn't done in decades: appoint Viceroys to rule over the Provinces. They'll help oversee the martial law and quell dissent."
"Bold move, sir."
"But a necessary one. If we're going to modernize, we can't have undue resistance. Lexidus kicked us in the rear during the Cold War, and it's not just because... he was a terrible militarykin - which he was. I want Aeisa'kar up to par as soon as possible if we're to engage the world beyond the north. Make it so, commander."
"It'll be my pleasure, my Chief."
"One more thing, actually," Torvus said, holding up a paw.
"Yes?"
"Find the Risha Twins for me, and tell them to prepare for the banquet with Lexidus. Only a few more days now."
"That I will."
Nod'ren stood and walked over to Scribe's Hall, leaving Torvus to gaze at the kin milling about his Federation in content.
Hall Regalista, Nekatria, Svorand
When K'na Akamoro opened the doors of the palace and saw the delegation before her at the bottom of the grand steps, she raised an eyebrow and smirked. She was surrounded by a sizable entourage of Yrutken - some were covered from antler to toe in the finest of silks, while others barely had enough cloth on them to cover their parts. After another minute of lively discussion with the group, she dismissed them with a flick of her hand. The Yrutken scattered into the magnificent city, each of them looking at the Aeisakarians with either lust or disdain - but none of them approached to make an introduction.
"Cassara!" K'na called then, hurrying quickly down the steps, her fiery red and luscious gold gown fluttering behind her as she descended. Though the Yrutken woman was visibly older than her Aeisakarian counterpart, Torvus, she was considerably more pleasant-appearing and carefree in demeanor.
"My Queen," the Governess said, bowing. The Aeisakarians followed suit. To this, K'na shook her head when she finally stopped in front of the group.
"Please," she said with a laughing grin. "Foreigners don't bow to a monarch that just not their own."
"Perhaps you're right, Xzaren, the Hyarin, said, then extending a hand. "Xzaren Etka, of the tribe Bosorond." He then gestured to the rest of his expedition. "These Alkin twins are Venix and Ath'ra. The Barskin fellows here are Ks'roth and Gregor'vre. And, of course you know the Governess."
"Me and Hrolend were to be engaged at one point," K'na replied, not a hint of negativity in her voice. "But she couldn't resist the opportunity to run for Governor."
Cassara lowered her head, abashed.
"Anyhow, it's an honor to meet you all, Aeisakarians. I am anxious to begin talks with your... Chief, is it?"
"Chief-Protector now," Ath'ra corrected politely. "It's a temporary title, however."
"I would hope so," K'na replied. "Please, come inside - you all must be famished. I have a great feast awaiting you. By the morning, we will be off."
Ks'roth scoffed, confused. "Off where?"
"To Aeisa'kar, of course. Don't worry, I won't make trouble of it."
The Eastern Expedition gawked worriedly at the brash Queen of Svorand before following her and Cassara Hrolend slowly up the steps into Hall Regalista. ________________ Valley Frost'nak, Aeisa'kar
The windstorm that night was harsh for the vast band of Barskins, totalling nearly two hundred in number. They were unarmed, dressed in the most disturbing shades of grey, and had with them no fire to guide them. On their hoods was an ominous symbol, dark and menacing.
They chanted lowly to themselves, repeating the same phrase over and over again as the border of Lexidus drew nearer:
"Yrutas, guide us."
|
|
|
Post by thevalleianorders on Jun 14, 2018 21:50:56 GMT -5
Part Six
Fontisayic Shipyards of Lake Fontas, Fontyas, Welakian Order: “Shift One, initiate construction!” The Foreman-Hytyr Nillys ordered to the hundreds of workers of the great Shipyards of Fontyas, with ages ranging from thirteen to thirty. Around him, hammers rammed nails and wedges into place, saws divided the great timbers into planks and masts, and knives cut great pieces of fabric into sails. The skeletons of ships lay in rows and columns, aligned with brick walls that divided the land from the waters of the lake. Cartloads of wood and other materials crammed themselves through the trafficked roads that led to this monstrosity of a project. “Hytyr Nillys, sir!” One of his subordinates called. “The Gatzyrmytr of the See of Fontyas is here to speak with you.” “I’ll be on my way; get back to work,” Nillys responded, “and show more respect to his Eminence!” “Yes, Hytyr Nillys!” He replied as he went straight to work. Nillys swiftly walked past the workers of his shipyard, ignoring their scrambled greetings. He walked up a stone staircase up to the supervising platform where he usually completed his work. A makeshift railing stood between his platform and a great fall, for this part of the shipyard was built into a slight cliff. The Gatzyrmytr stood there, awaiting his arrival. “You finally decided to show up, Nillys?” The Gatzyrmytr asked Nillys skeptically. “My workers are lazy, as usual, your Eminence, the Gatzyrmytr Gillays. “But that is not our concern today.” “I would beg to differ, Nillys,” the Gatzyrmytr Gillays argued. He paused, and continued in a grim tone, “We have some new orders from the Communal See.” “What do they Will us to do, your Eminence?” Nillys asked with concern. He pulled out a ledger book and opened it to the most recent page as he spoke. “What is our current expectation for completed ships this week?” Gatzyrmytr Gillays asked, pulling out a notebook of his own. “The other Foreman-Hytyrs and myself have estimated the completion of ten Hulk-class and two Carrack-class ships this week.” Nillys stated blankly as he quickly recapped the figures he had written in his book. “At this rate,” the Gatzyrmytr calculated, “We will have around forty Hulk-class and eight Carrack-class vessels at the end of this month, correct?” With the affirmation of Nillys, Gillays continued, “The Communal See wishes for at least sixty Hulk-class and fifteen Carrack-class vessels.” The Foreman-Hytyr Nillys had no response to this new information, his mind racked with sheer confusion at how to complete this monstrous task in front of him. “I must get back to work,” he said with uncertainty to the Gatzyrmytr Gillays. “Take note that there will also be a sacrifice this evening, at the request of the Monastery,” the Gatzyrmytr pointed out as Nillys was about to leave. “We expect your workers to be in attendance. You are dismissed.” -------------------------- Kantun Settlement, Western Expeditionary Fleet: All was well on the Island of Kantun for the Expeditionary Fleet. The first buildings were going up, forest was being cleared, and traps were being set to catch game for consumption. In total, a storehouse and two small boarding houses would be completed within the fortnight. A rudimentary dock near the shipwrecks would be finished within the week, and soon the dinghies of the twelve ships would be used to catch fish and explore more of the island. “Soon enough Kantun Settlement might be ready to accept civilian colonists!” One of the Diplomatic delegates joked over the Expedition’s dinner in one of the beached ships. They ate small, grilled game with water from the coconuts to fill their thirsts. “Weighing in from Imperial Commands, that might be a predictable future for us,” Aurytyr Kollyk replied back to the slightly inebriated Diplomatic delegates, “although we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves just yet.” “Exactly,” agreed Captain Arroga, “We still have ourselves many things to build before we can even hope to support all of us Expeditionaries!” “Anyways, we haven’t the time to gag around, drink, eat, and converse with one another.” asserted Hytyr Binna of the Investigatory Committee. “Once you finish your rations, you will be split into three groups. Group One will check all traps for more food. Group Two will finish the dock. Group Three will continue construction of the Settlement. Is that clear?” “Yes, Hytyr Binna!” The Expeditionaries replied. They each finished their meals hastily afterwards, split into their groups, and made their way to finish their tasks. The Captain waited in the ship, cleaning after those who left hastily. “Send word to Edinginia,” he ordered to an unsuspecting Prystyr Junsun as he walked in, “that we are doing fine and that we request construction material and personnel to make this a fully fledged Settlement!” “Yes, Captain. Such will be done after I tell you of this.” the Prystyr said quietly. “What is it?” Captain Arroga asked, intrigued by what he might have to say. “I have news that the shipyards have already increased ship production in response to increased material demand. They sent word to us to expect materials and manpower by the end of the month.” The Prystyr said without much excitement in his voice, even though the news was indeed quite a good development. “Excellent! If that is the case, than we have no need to sen-“ Captain Arroga stopped speaking after he noticed that the Prystyr had walked out. “Such is to be expected from him,” the Captain thought. “How much longer until he forgets himself entirely to the Crystal?” -------------------------- New Study, Imperial Palace, Edinginia: Over the past few days, the Imperator had retrofitted most of the Imperial Study to his taste. Where there had been rows of shelving with a few scribe’s tables scattered along the walls now sat a large table made of Ebony wood, surrounded by plush chairs. Shelves now proudly lined the walls filled with Imperial Records, Valleian history books, and other books of knowledge. At the two end corners of this rectangular room, the Imperator had placed long, red plush couches, single-seater couches, and low tables in the center of each “reading nook”. This was a drastic change in scenery for the many Scribe-ads that worked to maintain the vast library of the Imperator. Aparaius sat at the head of this new table, with Gabriel sitting at his right hand side. The various Communal Sees were not present today; he had (gladly) dismissed them to oversee relief efforts in the Orders, so his chambers were much quieter. “Your Holiness,” one of the Scribe-ads conveyed to the Imperator, “You have a Crystal from the Southern Expeditionary regarding agreements with ‘The Dual Kingdom of the Isles’.” “These must be the City-States that we thought were there.” the Imperator inferred. “What do they me to do for them?” “Her High Wisdom Aurytyr Alexiana has come to agreements with the ‘King Godred’ of the Isles.” The Scribe-ad stated. The Imperator set aside the chart he was currently looking at, placing it inside the spine of one of the many open books on his table. “The details?” He asked. “Ah, yes, your Holiness.” The Scribe-ad began to read the paper that was in his hands. “Henceforth, these three points are to be authorized and enforced by His Holiness the Imperator, Aparaius I: “1: A Communication Crystal and its assorted staff is to be stationed at the Royal Castle of Peel Godred in the Dual Kingdom, to provide for communication with the Imperial Capital, Edinginia, and in extension, the Empire as a whole. “2: Likewise, an Embassy of The Dual Kingdom of the Isles shall be sent to the Imperial Capital, Edinginia, at the request of King Godred of the Isles. “3:The Dual Kingdom and the Imperial Communion will cooperate in the investigation of the Earthquakes, with Joint Expeditionaries being sent from both Realms. “SEAL of the IMPERATOR [ ]” “Intriguing,” the Imperator thought to himself. After pondering about it for a minute, he stood up and took the document from the Scribe-ad. He read over the document once more to himself, pulled out a chunk of wax and a seal former, and marked the document. “I hereby ratify this as Imperial Decree. Let it be known to the Empire that we now have diplomatic relations with the Dual Kingdom.” “Yes, your Holiness,” the Scribe-ad said. He picked up the newly marked document and left the room. “Now, where was I?” the Imperator asked himself. “The supplies for settlement at Kantun?” Gabriel replied with a questioning tone. “Ah, yes!” the Imperator thanked Gabriel. He reopened his book and continued studying the great figures that danced on the large paper. --------------------------
Evening-tide, Fontisayic Shipyards of Lake Fontas, Fontyas, Welakian Order: Much work had been done today, but not enough to satisfy the needs of the Imperial trade guilds, builders, and Orders. At the current rate, fifteen Hulk-class ships would barely be completed by the end of the week. They would need at least twenty for the current quotas to be met. Such was a similar problem with Carrack-class vessels. These figures were not apparent to the many tired, overworked shipbuilders of Fontyas. Only Foreman-Hytyr Nillys and a few other Hytyrs were aware of this terrifying fact. Bells rang throughout the city, drawing citizens, traders, and craftspeople to the central Plaza of Fontyas. Around a grand, marble fountain stood various Prystyrs and the Prysmytr of the local Monastery. One man and one woman, the man seemingly ineibriated, stood in front of the Prystyrs. Around them stood a few guards, and beyond them, the gazing crowd that was now building up. The sun began its reunion with the horizon as the Prysmytr said, “We bring before Decidius, Oddtyrmytr Neccrys, this sacrifice as an offering for the waters of Myratnis, Oddtyrmytr Vita, to be crystallized into your Holy Gift, a crystal.” The crowd grew quieter as he continued in a monotone voice, “Do you, victim, freely give your Vytyye for Crystallization, and in doing so, do you freely renounce your Vyta?” “I do,” said the man-victim quietly in response to this question. “Let his Vytyye be put before the See of Decidyi, and let his Vyta be renounced to the See of Myrat.” The guards subsequently threw him into the fountain and speared him from all sides. Immediately afterwards, the girl was led into the fountain, and was completely submerged. Tears. She heard tears, and the great weeping of a young lady. She moved to look towards the sound. Through the darkness, she saw a crumpled figure sitting down, with its face buried in its flawless hands. She walked closer, and the figure looked upwards. “My kin,” she wept. “My children.” She opened her hand. In it, a Lion’s Tail flower lay shriveled atop a pile of snow. The snow slowly burnt, being replaced with horrid black. “Beware the Black that comes,” the weeping woman said to her as darkness overtook her. Then, nothing.
|
|
|
Post by Percyton on Jun 18, 2018 21:28:32 GMT -5
Royal Castle, Peel Godred, Big Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles King Godred
Thanks to the marvelous Valleian Orders communication crystals, King Godred’s agreement with the Southern Expedition was soon ratified by the Imperator. After a few days making the final arrangements and setting up the Valleian Order’s new embassy/crystal room in the South Hall, the lead delegate Aurytyr Alexiana approached King Godred in the throne room.
“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements,” Alexiana said to the Dual Kingdom’s monarch. “The crystal room is all set up, and my delegation shall soon depart. Your diplomats for your new ‘embassy’ at Edinginia are free to come with us as well. It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Majesty, and I believe this is the beginning of a bright new future for both of our nation.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Aurytyr,” Godred replied, as he got up from his throne to approach the diplomat, “and I think my diplomats accompanying you would be a splendid idea. You are of course free to leave if you wish, but I’d like to invite you and your delegation to stay a few days more. My court is holding a feast and festival for Duke Adam, a former Locomati leader and an old friend of mine, and I’d be honored if you’d attend.”
Alexiana smiled. “I would be honored. I shall inform the other delegates.”
“Excellent! I think you’ll find us Islanders throw wonderful parties! You’ll see!” Alexiana then exited the throne room, just as a large group of Locomati men and women (including the Grand Duke’s page Percy of Avonsida) entered. Godred approached them.
“Ah!” the King said. “You must be the Locomati delegation to the festival. Welcome to Peel Godred! We’ve been expecting you.”
“It is a pleasure to be here,” the lead delegate, an elegantly-dressed Locomati woman, said. “I am Molly, Countess of Claude-Hamilton.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace,” the King replied as he shook the Countess's hand. Godred saw Burnett Stone standing nearby. “Burnett shall show you all to your chambers.” Burnett stood to attention and started to walk over to the delegation.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Molly replied. “We are eager to rest after a long journey, and we look forward to the festival.”
Meanwhile…
In a side room of the castle, Yrutas mage P.T. Boomerius sat at the head of a table with fellow Yrutas followers. They patiently waited while Boomerius experienced his vision.
In an unknown area, there was a dark, hooded figure walking across the land, with the desolation of the corruption following behind him. The figure had a claw for one of his hands, and with his other hand, he controlled a puppet on strings. The mysterious figure brushed against roses and other flowers with his clawed hand, wilting them and turning them dark. The figure then raised his hands, and whole islands were instantly covered in corruption. The figure then let out a maniacal laugh.
Boomerius emerged from his vision. He smiled, and turned toward his followers. “The time of Yrutas will be soon, my companions. We just need to wait.”
“Wait?” one of the Yrutas worshippers questioned. “Wait for what? Why can’t we act now?”
“The time is not yet right, Baran. I have seen the work of Yrutas, and he will carry out his will through an earthly vessel.”
“Are we not that earthly vessel?” Another follower asked.
“Not yet at least,” Boomerius explained. “The vessel I saw had a claw for one of his hands, and was controlling a puppet with the other. He had immense power to spread the corruption all over the land. We shall wait for him. Look for the signals, gentlemen, and we shall follow them. Praise be to Yrutas!”
“Praise be to Yrutas!” the others cried in response.
A few days later…
At last, Duke Adam arrived. Duke Adam asked for a quiet entrance on foot, but on King Godred’s assistance, Duke Adam rode into the capital city through the main street, riding on a magnificent white horse, and accompanied by a retinue of trumpeters and royal guards. Duke Adam waved to the crowd and tried to appear heroic, but secretly, he was a bit embarrassed by the attention. Once Adam entered the gates of the castle, King Godred declared the festival to have officially begun.
The first day of festivities began with little incident. Throughout the morning and afternoon, the royal court put on a series of jousting and theatrical events for the nobles and visiting delegations (the commoners would be allowed to partake in the festival starting on the second day), and everyone enjoyed themselves. There were a couple of mishaps, though. During one jousting event, one of the horses tripped on a stray weed, falling and injuring both itself and its rider. And during one of the plays, an understudy (who had to be brought on at the last minute due to the regular actor suddenly falling ill) forgot his lines, bringing the performance to a screeching halt. However, Burnett Stone and his festival team acted quickly to defuse these situations: for the jousting event, the gardening team quickly cut the weed while a replacement jouster was brought, and the injured horse and rider were taken away and treated for their injuries; for the theatre play, Burnett introduced a pre-planned comic interlude to entertain the audience, while the understudy was brought backstage to rehearse his lines. In the end, these mistakes did little to dampen the audience’s boisterous mood.
In the evening, all the delegations and nobles were invited to the Royal Castle’s East Hall for the feast. Fine meats like duck and beef were served, with an extravagant assortment of sides and appetizers ranging from vegetables to grains to seafood. Toward the end, King Godred stood up and tapped his spoon on his glass.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Godred said to the gathered attendees. “To Duke Adam, and all of the work he has done to bring the Dual Kingdom together!”
“Hear hear!” the attendees chanted in reply.
“And I would also like to thank the Locomati delegation, the Valleian Orders delegation, and everyone else who agreed to join me and Duke Adam on this splendid occasion. Such an eager crowd is what made this celebration so enjoyable. All of you are distinguished and noble people whom I am honored to be among. So eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves for the next few days of the festival!”
“Hear hear!” the crowd chanted, this time a little louder. A good time was had by all that splendid night.
Workston, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Diesalion X
The noon sun was hanging overheard at Count Philip of Vicarstown’s court. The herald called the court into session like he always did, introducing Count Philip and Chancellor Diesalion. But things were different since Diesalion had arrived at court several weeks ago. Shortly after his arrival, Diesalion launched a purge of the court, removing all those who he felt were insufficiently loyal to him and to Count Philip. As a result, today’s court was not only more bare, but also more fearful. Philip was concerned by this at first, but Diesalion told him there was nothing to worry about that. “A little concern for one’s life is a good thing,” Diesalion assured. “All good kings try to instill a healthy amount of fear into their courtiers.” Philip raised no more objections after that, as he wanted nothing more than to become a ‘good king’.
As Philip and Diesalion sat on their seats in the throne room (with Diesalion’s seat being a little more ornate ever since he took it over from the previous Chancellor Roderickus), people murmured amongst each other, still unsure of how to properly speak to Diesalion and Philip. Instead of waiting, Diesalion spoke up first.
“I have a matter I wish to bring to everyone’s attention.” Diesalion said to the gathered courtiers. “Yesterday afternoon, a sentry discovered this document in the town square.” Diesalion reached into his robe pockets, unrolled a piece of paper, and held it aloft in the court. It was a wanted poster for Diesalion, put out jointly by King Godred and Grand Duke Thomas, and promising a monetary reward of 10,000 gold pieces for any information leading to Diesalion’s capture. “It seems,” Diesalion explained, “that the authorities have arrived in Workston. They must be hunting every lead, every clue they can get their hands on to bring me in. I don’t need to explain to you all that this is not acceptable. Now more than ever, we need to make sure that loyalty is at its peak, that no one here would be willing to reveal my presence here to the dastardly King and the corrupt Grand Duke. Your loyalty must be resolute and unquestioning, or else there will be consequences.” Diesalion paused dramatically. “You all are dismissed for the day. I must consult with His Royal Majesty on a certain matter.” With that, the courtiers scurried out of the throne room.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” Philip asked his Chancellor once everyone was gone.
“I will show you,” Diesalion replied, as he handed another piece of paper to the pretender monarch. “Here is a list of people I think should be… dealt with, to ensure I can safely stay here.”
Philip scanned the list for nearly a minute. At last, he said “Norman? Sidney? But why? They’ve been good retainers all these years, and I quite like them.”
“You may like them, but they’re at high risk of turning on me. Like the others on the list, they’re too easily swayed, and I don’t think they’ll be around to help you when you most need it. As your Chancellor, I recommend that you let me deal with them and other potential turncoats.”
Phillip put his hand on his chin, and pondered Diesalion’s words.
Later that night...
Workston, Northern Locomati Island, Dual Kingdom of the Isles Norman and Sidney
While it may have been clear earlier, by nightfall, dark clouds loomed over Workston Castle, and the castle residents could hear thunder and lightning all around. However, Norman of Bulleida, a mid-level Locomati courtier best known for his gruff temperament and prominent unibrow, had put on his orange-red night robes and had managed to fall asleep despite all the noise. That is, until he heard a knocking at the door. Norman grunted and sat up in bed. “I’m coming!” he yelled sternly. He then walked over to the door, and upon opening it, saw a somewhat-portly Locomati man with dark blue night robes. “Sidney?” Norman questioned to the other man. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
“I can’t sleep,” Sidney of Darberton replied. Sidney was also a mid-level courtier at Count Philip’s court. Sidney was a very kind and caring person; everyone was fond of him, though they did get quite tired of Sidney’s frequent short-term memory loss, and how easily distracted he was.
“So you decided to bother me?” Norman angrily but quietly replied.
“You were the closest one. Well, except Diesalion, but I didn’t think I should bother him.”
Norman sighed. “Alright, Sid. Come on in!” Norman gestured inside as Sidney entered the room. Norman sat up in bed, while Sidney pulled up a stool and sat beside the unibrowed courtier. Norman gently patted Sidney on the back. “It’s the storm, isn’t?” Norman asked.
“Yes,” Sidney replied, “but not just that. I’m also worried. You remember what Diesalion said, right? About disloyalty and turning him in and whatnot?”
“I remember,” Norman said. “I’m more surprised you do.” Norman chuckled, but his joke elicited no response from the forgetful courtier. “Anyway,” Norman went on, “don’t worry, Sid. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Neither Philip nor Diesalion would ever want to hurt you.” At this, Sidney laid his head on Norman’s shoulder. Norman was visibly confused by his gesture, but nevertheless continued patting Sidney on the back.
Suddenly, the pair were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. “Go away!” Norman shouted. “We’re busy!” He then quickly tried to amend his statement. “I mean I’M busy! Because there’s no one else here!” Norman didn’t want anyone to see him in such an affectionate position with another male, especially since that other male was Sidney. But the people on the other side took no notice; they forced the door open, revealing three Locomati guards armed with pikes.
“What’s going on?” Norman asked in confusion.
“Are we in trouble, Norm?” Sidney asked nervously.
“Don’t call me that!” Norman snapped.
“Norman of Bulleida and Sidney of Darberton,” the lead guard began, “you are both under arrest for treason, and conspiracy against Count Philip.”
Norman was dumbfounded. “Treason?” he exclaimed. “Conspiracy? Based on what proof? I demand to see your evidence!”
“Irrelevant,” the lead guard replied. “We have received orders from Chancellor Diesalion to carry out your punishment immediately.”
Norman looked at Sidney’s sad face, and without any further hesitation, Norman leaped into the air and tackled the lead guard. “Run, Sidney!” Norman shouted. But Sidney didn’t move. He was frozen in fear. While the second guard tried to remove Norman from the lead guard, the third guard rushed toward Sidney. Sidney waited until the guard was near, and then, acting quickly, kneed the guard in the groin. The guard screamed in agony, and grabbed his private parts as he fell to the floor and writhed in pain.
Meanwhile, the second guard had successfully removed Norman, and threw him to the back of the room next to Sidney. After the remaining two guards helped their injured comrade to his feet, the trio surrounded the two courtiers. “This is the end of the line,” the lead guard said. “Any last words before you are executed?”
“Yes,” Norman replied. He cleared his throat, and then began. “With Myratnis as my witness, I would just like to declare – Hey, is that a dragon?” Norman eagerly pointed at the door.
“A dragon?” the second guard exclaimed as he and his two companions raced to the doorway. “Where? Where?” While the three guards were distracted, Norman quietly open the latch to the window behind him, opened the window, and then, grabbing Sidney by the shoulders, the two fell backwards out of the window. Thankfully they were on the ground floor, so they didn’t have far to fall. By the time the guards had noticed, Norman and Sidney were already running away.
“Should we chase after them?” the third guard asked.
The lead guard shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’re not worth it.”
“What should we tell Diesalion?” the second guard asked.
“We’ll tell him we executed them and threw their bodies in the rivers. I’m sure he won’t question that.” With that, the three guards left the room.
But Norman and Sidney didn’t realize their pursuers had given up. They kept running, before hiding behind a bush several feet away. “That was close, Norman,” Sidney panted.
“You can say that again,” Norman replied.
“That was close, Norman!” Sidney repeated, slightly louder this time. “Did you hear me that time?”
Norman chuckled. “Yes, Sid. I heard you.” There was a long silence.
Finally, Sidney spoke up. “So, what should we do know?”
Norman thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said at least.
“I mean, we’re already on the run. Maybe we should turn in Diesalion, get that reward?”
“And what if they don’t capture Diesalion? What if Diesalion wins?”
“You think that’s likely?”
“I don’t know, but if that happens, we’ll be in an even worse situation than before. I don’t want to chance it.”
There was another pause. “So, should we just keep walking?” Sidney asked.
Norman nodded. “Yeah, walking sounds good. It's good exercise at least.” And with that, the two outlaw courtiers set out into the horizon.
Camelon Castle, Camelon, Noble Kingdom of Lexidus Dual Kingdom diplomatic delegation to Lexidus
After a long journey by both land and sea, the diplomatic delegation to Lexidus was thrilled to have finally arrived at their destination. After a night’s rest just outside the capital, the delegation arrived at the King’s castle, and were now being formally introduced in the throne room. There were three delegates (two humans and a Locomati), accompanied by a small staff of recorders, advisers, and chroniclers. They all bowed before the monarch sitting in front of them.
“I welcome you all to the Noble Kingdom of Lexidus,” the King said, as he gestured for the delegates to rise. “I am King Blair de Brus. You are the diplomatic delegation from the Dual Kingdom, correct?”
“That is correct, Your Majesty,” lead delegate Reynold of Killdane replied as he and the others arose. They smiled broadly; the delegates were pleased to see a monarch who dressed similar to their own, and from the tales they had heard about him, he was as chivalrous as King Godred as well. “We are from the Dual Kingdom of the Isles. I am Reynold of Killdane, Chief Supervisor of Northern Outreach. These are my fellow diplomats, Paton of Brendam, and the Locomati Fergus de Cementia.”
“Locomati?” Blair questioned.
“A different species who are our partners and allies in the Dual Kingdom,” Reynold explained. “We come to you seeking the establishment of formal diplomatic ties, and the opening of trade between our two nations. We have heard stories of your dominion, Your Majesty, and based on the stories we have heard of your chivalry, your customs, and your worship of Myratnis, we believe your nation is quite similar to our own.”
|
|
|
Post by Andromitus on Jun 18, 2018 22:20:50 GMT -5
Zoulmekt, Abyan Thaur, Ahkmaur River
• • • • • • • • Half a Year ago • • • • • • • •
After a moment of fiddling his hand closed around the thin metal disc below his heart, spinning it tightened the internal wiring keeping his protective cloak, a mixture of the reptilian Aurak Leather and metal plating together. The two-pound mask, a leather hood with a pointed tip and a metal-glass faceplate, fit snugly over his long ears as he tied it’s straps to the metal pins of his Cloaks collar. Finally the gloves, two thick Gauntlets, pieces of clockwork and ornate symbols running along the surface, a triangular metal plate on the back of either palm. “Baraum! Open the damn windows it’s stuffy enough in here without the masks.” Shykoen barked, his voiced muffled by the leather hood. There was less of a reply, and more of a slightly annoyed followed by the sliding of oiled metal-on-stone as the thick Asilic-Bronze plates covering the trapezoidal windows. In a moment, a thin stream of soft, blue and green light to enter the room, although they did no better to illuminate it than the braziers in each of it’s four corners. In comparison to most, it was farely large, with a sizable portion of land allocated toward the whole facility — Sadly, though, since a series of Centralization plans, most alchemical facilities had been moved further to the north. By this point, she was nothing more than a scientific and religious outpost for the surrounding region, built only because her land was non-arable and right along the frontier “border” (if the unguarded wilderness could even be considered a border). There were four of them Baraum and Shykoen who were natives to the Zoulmekt Thaur, alongside Miikāfn from the north (Halthaum to be exact), and finally Vyklōp, a former representative of the Ahkmaur Governance — Having lost his position after the Exams. But they all now shared the same positions as members of the Priest-Caste, they were a company of State Alchemists of the Authority. This was clear from their surroundings, the room was covered in alchemical ingredients, from a variety of metal and clockwork devices, to countless scrolls stuffed away in hexagonal cubicles carved into the stone walls, and in the center, a Zaaden Circle adorned with Asilic Runes. Shykoen grinned beneath his heavy protection mask, his heart racing in anticipation. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • It was only two years ago when he received the first vision, if one could even call it that. He remembered the event clearly too: he’d newly been assigned to this remote and damn-near desolate outpost, all but abandoned after it was decided that the location was simply too remote to be of immediate use. So there he stayed, working on maths and documenting local wildlife for any signs of differentiation from Interior-Species. Then he found himself outside. He felt the soft, warm air caress his skin, as if a weight had been lifted off of him. He knew he was outside, but never remembered leaving the complex, he was surrounded by the uncut stones of the cavern floor, the thick lichenous mosses that squelched and cracked underfoot, and the thin, wire-like bushes with stalks lined with glowing blue scales. But it was the light that stuck out too him, the blues and greens natural to Asil danced away as the light around him prickled purple, magnificent hues colorizing the world around him. He remembered how is eyes gleamed in wonder as the energies long discussed in the debate halls of the Temple became visual entities too him. A manifestation of God. He thought he’d gone mad at first, but as he regained himself over those long first few weeks after his first connection, reality burned its way into his mind. He grew too see them more often, flashes of colors around him, flowing like water or smoke through the stalks, vines and externalities of the undergrounds Flora. A myriad, a rainbow of colors, but the one too always stand out; a thick, royal purple. It wasn’t just visuals either, it was as if his mind wasn’t his own, concepts and equations flowed into him all too naturally. At night he saw distinct Zaaden Circles, and specialized equipment previously unknown too him. It was like he was being called out too, to accomplish something, to reach out and take Aēl offered him. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • It was in his head, the world that God promised him — they never believed him, they never could believe him. But he knew it was there, he saw it, it was real and so close. It was so tangible. Shykoen’s face burned and paled as their mockery and anger intensified; the others at the complex were enraged when they saw what he’d begun to delve into. Untested alchemical research, borderline heretical behavior. They cried out that a madness had taken hold of him and they shunned him for some time until he finally learned to hide the gifts God was giving too him. He would have his time, he sung too himself, he trusted in Aēl not too lead him astray. That’s when he arrived, Miikāfn; he was small statured overall, a generally confused looking man, but he was curious. He had a love for biology, that much was clear, but he had an all too real knack for reading too far into people’s thoughts. He remembered their first conversation, Miikāfn looking confused, nervous even as he reached into the bronze chest next too his bed, retrieving long hidden scrolls filled with the diagrams he’d drawn. Three tools, alongside countless equations, was the first to be lain bare before this man he knew very little about — The Hammer and Dagger, to properly Flay the influx of energy, the two Catalyst-bands to concentrate it. He remembered his hand quivering as he reached in to pull out that of most offense: A singular scroll outlining something the others found horrible. A Dodecagonal Zaaden Circle, with 6 Hexagonal Sub-Circles lining it’s exterior. He remembered his heart fluttering as he saw the wild-eyed grin on his new friends face — this, now this was Alchemy. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Miikāfn was the first to join him, then one of those who’d mocked him of all people — a young woman named Baraum. She herself was brilliant, but hadn’t managed to pass the State Exam with a high enough grade to get her out of Abyan, instead opting to study in Zoulmekt for a little while and thus found herself here. Although while he couldn’t deny her skill in Chemistry and Math, he had to admit that her knowledge and understanding of Alchemy was lackluster at best; she was leagues below State-Ready material. After Baraum the final member to join their growing Ihlkap —An Asilic term for “Council”, “Club”, or “Society”— was an older man by the name of Vyklōp. To call him eccentric was an understatement, but someone of his Caste could afford to be a little uncultured. Although too be perfectly honest nobody knew, or at least talked about, what got him landed in a Frontier position of all places. But Miikāfn seemed to trust the old man, it didn’t help that he had a knack for rather impressive and convincing speeches, and it wasn’t long until they had a growing group of 34 Disciples from the complex and surrounding area. And that was the four of them, it didn’t take long from their too route out the more undesirable members of the Temple-Compound and by that point 3 of 5 of the available Alchemists — Vyklōp, Baraum, and himself— were on their side so it wasn’t as if their situation was dire. They even had all the equipment they needed already there, 34mg of Sulfur, 18g of Salt, 12g of combine-powder…everything accept the Zaaden Circle that is. Shykoen smiled at Baraum’s remark, this really seemed too good to be true. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • His heart raced and he breathed in, the warm air of the mask stuffing his nose as Baraum handed him the Flaying Device and the four of them took positions around the Circle and began the pre-reaction check. It was huge, taking up most of the central hall where they had had to set it up, bronze bowls placed at each of the corners of the Dodecahedron and the circle around it, a series of other smaller devices were centered in each of the 6 outer sub circles. A single stone pillar, almost waist height, was at the center of the entire structure, a small circle marked the top of the hollow center. The vessel filled to the brim with a mixture of a deep red liquid. Nearly two years of work and they were finally here. The First step into a new age. After Baraum had finished the checks, each of them took their places inside the Zaaden Circle, their disciples taking standing positions around them; Baraum and Miikāfn raised the two Catalyst-Bands, bronze circles inlaid with calligraphic text, the men and women outside of the circle raised both of their hands, making a diamond with their connected Thumb and First-Fingers, and in Response he and Vyklōp raised their tools — it was the two flaying devices that had taken the most time to make, and if it hadn’t been for Zoulmekt having a proper Forge, there wouldn’t be any devices to begin with. The Catalyst Bands only had to be re-enscripted but they had to forge the Devices from scratch. The first device was a large, bronze hammer resembling a warhammer with two flat faces centered by a long metal handle. Two circular metal plates rested on either side of the Eye of the piece, carved with flashing blue symbols. The other device was similar in appearance to a short-sword, with a heightened, cage-like rain-guard reaching up toward a dull blade as thick as his fist, it too bearing blue inscriptions. He breathed in again, and the process began — it started with a starting flash as the Bands catalyzed the reaction, soft blue light emitting from the rims of each of them. There was a slight pause, his heart raced; they’d worked tirelessly for two years, they couldn’t fail at this point, could they? Everything lay still, there was barely a sound apart from high wine of the Catalyst-Bands, similar to oil being set alight. They were so close… There was a waive of shock as the Zaaden circle at their feet began to glow; flashes of blue energy beginning to circle around them — the twin Devices began to sparkle with electricity as a definitive sphere of light formed around the four of them. Shykoen began to step forward, clasping the hilt of the Flaying Device • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • They could see it too…Shykoen laughed a little bit as the others began to step back, enraptured by what they started too see around them. The Purple hue took hold of the entire cavern, the backs of their skulls tickled, warmth trading over their chests as they took their first steps. Each thought was another flash of light, a deep blue or a bright red coloring every sound. The high cavern ceiling and walls, meters apart from each other, seemed to warp, breath, in and out with them. Euphoria enveloped every thought. They smiled, so soft smiles; the man on the floor shaking violently. He’d yelled when he saw what was happening, he screamed all kinds of heresy and hate. Small red droplets fell from his mouth in slow-motion into a growing puddle around him. Flashes of purple swam through it, the deep red pool; it was sad, yes, and avoidable. But it was okay, that they knew, God was here now. Death was soft, and calm now. His dying was beautiful. Their lips, the great horde of them now, never quivered as Zoulmekt grew in the distance; purple hues danced around their eyes as they sang their songs to God. The men didn’t like it. Four lines of them charged to fight for their city, Asilic-Bronze Swords waiving in the air. One grew near, his teeth bared, Shykoens hand closed around his helmet and he felt warmth flood his mind. It didn’t take long for them to reach the interior of the city, still some fools resisted — purple lightning cracked onto the stone, mens smiles never wavering. His smile only grew as the Compound where he’d worked for so long now grew in the distance. He cocked his head to the side as the two men outside drew their swords too meet them. The air was slow around him, purple hues dancing just under his eyes. Their eyes rolled white as they collapsed, the large bronze doors of the compound melted at his touch. It was sad; but God was here now. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Shykoen took another step toward the Vessel in the center of the Zaaden Circle. The room was still in anticipation, no other sound escaped it’s silence apart from the soft hum of the Catalyst-Bands. He looked up for only a moment, a frown forming on his face as the sound of shouts echoed outside. Cracks of electricity were suddenly silenced and he took another step forward, the vessel just below the tip of the Flaying-Device in his hands. He plunged it into the core of the Vessel, and a flash of purple shone through he room. The circle at their feet shifted hues, as did the sphere of light and zephyrs of energy that new shone throughout the grand hall. The top layer of powder reacted instantly too the dull blade, melting and liquidizing into a thick, dark red substance. His eyes locked on the doorway as it burst open and shouts from the outside entered the room. Strange, it was only mild annoyance that he felt as the view of four of his disciples dead outside came too him, followed by the dark bodies of Vvain Warrior-Caste charging into the hallway. Vyklōp payed their shouts to cease no mind, and his hammer struck the pommel of the first Device. The Warriors still outside stopped for a moment, the caverns around them starting to shake. The Compound in front exploded, and was quickly engulfed in purple flames. The ground below them cracked and churned, and they were engulfed in smoke.
|
|
|
Post by Lex Caledonia on Jun 19, 2018 15:01:34 GMT -5
King Blair de Brus, Camelon Castle - Lexidus
Locomati? The Dual Kingdom? Formal diplomatic ties? Blair pondered to himself as he approached the delegates and shook their hands. Taking extra time and vigour with the Locomati, revelling in his first ever interaction with such a race of people. He smiled and laughed, sweeping his eyes across the delegation and cupping his hands together. "Please, I am just a man who takes pride in his nation and wishes to do his best for said nation! It would honour me to open trade with the Dual Kingdom, along with whatever diplomatic ties would suit us both!"
Leana peaked through into the throne room, making sure to hide as much of her small frame as she could behind the sizeable wooden door. Mere minutes ago Blair had fear etched into his face and sheer uncertainty shivering in his voice, now? He was smiling ear to ear, his voice booming across the gray and stony room. She felt ashamed, wishing she could be strong enough to pull such a brave face in front of these people, how on Calveria could she ever be the next monarch?
"Why in fact, I currently have my finest explorers, colonists and representatives making their way south-east as we speak! They are leading an expedition straight through the mainland of Calveria, forging a pathway through a watercourse that would cut travel times between the northern and southern nations by a third! There will be ten islands colonised by Lexidus and plenty of settlements and ports on them to help your ships with attrition! We want to spread our message to the south, Lexidus is coming and we come in peace and prosperity!"
Ruby Hollins, The Fifth Island - The Western Sea
Ruby groaned as Marie Gillespie tended to the gash on her arm. She was lucky, any lower or deeper and the spear would have severed an artery, a situation even magic would have had trouble dealing with. Thankfully this was not the case and the mage could set about disinfecting and healing the wound, to which she did so with a gentle and caring touch. The dim lower deck's medbay was lit up by a gentle blue glow as Marie muttered an incantation as a blue hue emanated from her hands.
"You were very fortunate my lady. A couple days worth of my incantation and your arm should be healed up proper!" Marie purred as red blood dissipated under the healing blue light.
Ruby sat up, her favourite pleated tunic had been all but ruined in the attack. She pouted and winced in pain. "I don't want to put anymore strain on you Marie, I understand healing can be an exhausting thing."
"Nonsense! I can heal with the best of them." Politely chuckled Marie as she grabbed a spare tunic and handed it to the injured Ruby. "Here take this, one of my spares."
"Thanks Marie." Ruby grunted as she shuffled out of the room, her arm in a makeshift sling. She made sure to return a book she had borrowed from Paul, the lute playing crew member who was also a victim from the islander's attack. He and Ruby were on deck when the ship passed by the 5th island. The gargantuan continent that was Calveria looming to their east and their "South-East Passage" in the distance. As they approached the fifth island however, they were besieged by humans with dark-red skin and crude boats and weapons. The island's inhabitants didn't appreciate the Lexiduns' presence and threw spears and arrows at the passing ship. Injuring Ruby, Paul and grazing another deckhand. Cannon fire and return arrows scared the attackers away however and the majority of he crew were left unscathed.
Ruby patted Paul on the shoulder, reclining in a hammock with his injured leg, the young blond man resumed his book. Ruby made her way back to her cabin, making extra sure to voice her displeasure in her notebook and ledger. She recommended that extra care should be taken with this island. Specifically, writing down: bring angry swords to counteract angry spears.
Burke Nola, Nola - The North Star Isles
"Sir! You'll want to see this!"
Chief Burke of Nola sighed. He had been beset by Titenfiscan, Fyllian, Aeisakarian merchants and travellers all day. Even his own country men demanded his attention as he surveyed his ports. He didn't have time for this! He was a busy man! The Northern Alliance treaty had welcomed an unrelenting wave of free travellers across his city. To top it all off, the Navy had barely began to leave the isle and the vast amounts of the Lexidun Navy still found itself surrounding the North Star Sea!
"Sir. Its urgent."
Burke pivoted on point and faced the guard, he was holding a spyglass. "What is IT lad? Can't you see am a busy man?"
"Follow me sir."
Excusing himself from a gurgling group of Titenfiscans, Burke follow the guard to a large guard tower that towered above the port. Making his way up the stairs, his bad leg gave him hassle and he swore. He never did catch the pirate bastard who sliced him good.
"An unknown ship is approaching sir." Stated the guardsman.
Peering through the spyglass, Burke instantly spotted the ship in question. An Asakorian ship, old and with huddled masses aboard. All of them wore gray and had faint but distinctive symbols on them, their wearers were of grand stature and despite their hoods, he could see furry nuzzles poking out. Barskin.
"...reports of merchant ships that passed them stated they could hear... chanting..."
Chief Burke furrowed his hairy eyebrows and stroked his impressive black beard. Something felt... off about this ship. He had to find out why.
"Signal a navy ship to bring the craft in, I shall confront these Barskin and have them state their intentions."
|
|
|
Post by Chiernarosa on Jun 21, 2018 3:55:35 GMT -5
Kahmpet
Tahra patiently looked at the shorter beings in front of her, noting the first woman talking to her compatriot in An'soal, the tone being one of disbelief. Looking up enough to avoid lifting her head, she saw the guards peering from above, bows drawn in caution. Behind her, the Warrior and the Seer were quietly whispering to one another, the former silently pulling one of the spines from her armor into her left hand, looking cautiously at the two soldiers in front before moving forward, gesturing the tribe to follow with her right hand before gently grasping the Seer's arm.
As the tribe approached cautiously, Tahra noted the first woman catching her breath, her eyes widening slightly as Tahra turned to face the tribe, the Warrior simply nodding in a stern manner as she gestured the other warriors to line up behind her. Tahra felt a sense of panic as she began to communicate with them, attempting to warn them into staying back. The Warrior shook her head, retorting that Tahra needed to be kept safe, the others intoning her words with a sense of innocence.
It was one of the younger males, the one who had ripped the spear out from the Wyrm's jaws, who approached forward, eyes widened as he began to gibber madly, spear held in front. Tahra panicked as the first Asilic warrior drew a shortsword and pointed it at him, hissing, "Spune-i să rămână înapoi" in broken Limba. Stepping in front of the young warrior, Tahra retorted, "You will not harm him," in broken An'soal, the Warrior and the assembled fighters baring their blades and spines. Tahra turned towards them, hissing in their tongue to point their weapons down, seeing the archers looking on.
Turning back to face the male, she brusquely demanded to know what was going on, only for him to shriek, throwing the spear down and grabbing his head, sniffing the air all the while. Finally, he turned towards her, eyes dilated as he screamed, "X'an ovet Naahrak t'san! Naahrakvan selan tour'sa Kor'sen!" (There is Corruption ahead! Corruption lies west, within the Lands!" She backed away in shock, watching as he continued to scream in Vaslen, the Seer trembling as she began to whisper to herself, "Na ovas tour'sa h'net" (It's not safe west) repeatedly, looking at the Asil in terror as she sniffed the air as well. The Warrior could only watch in fear as the Seer continued to speak, grabbing and shaking her to break the stupor.
Finally, Tahra spoke cautiously, "Your declaration of Iylmirix, did the Authority say if it was from Corruption, from Yrutas?"
Northern Border
The chieftain silently watched from a crag up above the land, noting the fortifications of the Asilic post, eyes slowing becoming accustomed to the Underground's lack of lighting. The hertagsen had approached with a fine selection of weapons, armor, and loot, requesting that the Arvesh would join with the madman who had killed the Chieftain Karrak: the chieftain and his warband agreed after killing all but one of the messengers, deftly informing him as they began to cut the dead hertagsen into rations that they would only agree to the conditions if they were granted the land and kept any loot they had gathered in their raids under his name. The hertag had returned in two days, heavily scarred and bearing word that he agreed to the conditions.
Now he watched the fort, amused as he noted the lack of actual fighters: all he saw were grey-skinned beings in a strange form of armor, only a few seen from the vantage point. Gathering himself, he noted his new set of armor, a set of white and orange robes with a hood, along with a breastplate and arm guards: pulling his sword out of the scabbard, it was a fine blade, curved and with a magnificent golden handguard and grip, capable of slashing through armor with the ease of a sharpened blade through soft bread. Placing it back in, the chieftain noted his men, numbering close to 75, joined by the Desert Raiders and their band of 60.
The chieftain spat in disgust as he thought of the Raiders: unlike the Arvesh, the bandits were cowardly, preferring to strike unprotected caravans and travelers only, fleeing if even a hint of combat turned against them. The chieftain had made it clear that such behavior would not be tolerated when he executed their leader in front of them, tearing his throat open with his bare hands before pouring sand into the wound. Since then, only 3 had fled, but the Arvesh had captured them and turned them into dinner for the tribe and their Raider allies.
One of the Arvesh, his underling, approached cautiously, baring his sword in front of the chieftain and bowing his head before speaking in their language, "Sir, everyone is asking when the raid will begin: the other bands north of us have already attacked and taken the forts." The chieftain punched the underling into the ground, tossing the sword aside and lifting the man up, "Not yet," he hissed, "I want to make sure this won't end badly for any of us, so tell them to stay silent or I will." The underling nodded, grabbing his sword and returning to the band.
The hours passed, the chieftain watching as the Asil continue to make their rounds, standing up only when he noticed the rotation being replaced. Walking to the band, the underling approached again, "Another warband heard about what is happening and petitioned to join, but the leader demands to challenge for control." The chieftain rolled his eyes and nodded, eventually finding the second chieftain, a much smaller man with a series of spikes running down the back of his armor. Pulling two knives out, the second chieftain ran towards his opponent: the chieftain simply had a bored look as he impaled the blade through the smaller man's lower jaw, lifting with both hands and pushing the blade up until the smaller chieftain hanged, his jaw pressed against the handguard.
Ripping the blade out, the chieftain turned to his underling, simply stating, "How many join us now?" The underling looked and stated, "About 80 warriors, now pledged to you, Sir." The chieftain nodded, muttering, "Guess that makes me a warlord* now" before gesturing the assembled to follow him. Snaking through the tunnels, they found the mouth leading to the ground, the fort now looming above them. Looking up at the ridge, the warlord noted the archers, carrying their hunting bows and assembled at the crag: nodding at them, the warlord drew his sword out and gestured them to follow before unleashing a loud, animalistic roar.
The Asilic warriors looked down as they saw the horde of savage fighters rush towards them, jumping over the uneven ground and screaming in their primitive language. The defending garrison soldiers at the bottom of the fort could only steel themselves as the wave of fighters crashed into them, the straggling raiders behind being struck by the archers within the fort. The warlord roared as he lifted one of the soldiers above his shoulder before tossing him into another fighter, slashing both of them with his sword as they laid on the ground. An arrow flew past him, one of his archers hitting a Warrior-Caste that had been rushing towards him: it mattered not, the warlord simply jumping above the line and landing behind the defenders, joined by his brethren as they began to slash.
Running up into the fort, the warlord struck at the few inside, leading his men into the quarters where the remainders of the first rotation were still sleeping. Stabbing at each form, the men continued to move, cutting the defenders down and setting fire to the fortifications. As they opened the gate into Asil, the chieftain looked on, panting slightly as they glimpsed at the fires and luminescent fungi leading to the settlements further inland. The underling approached, stating, "That felt a lot smaller than I would expect." The warlord nodded, stating, "Must be something going on with them to have only that many guards holding a fort: let's just hope that it stays that way. How many of the elves are still standing?" The underling whistled, a few male and female Asilic Warrior-Caste still alive, kicked down and stripped of their gear, "About 5 of them: two men, three women." The warlord simply stated, "Not enough to keep everyone entertained: tell them to keep it in their pants until we hit a settlement, we'll keep them as slaves for the most part." The underling reluctantly nodded, the guards watching the Warrior-Caste leading them back, "Oh, and also, have at least 10 of the band stay here and keep watch if the elves send reinforcements or someone from the east catches up with us. If it's more of ours or Raiders, have them tell the stragglers to follow the fires, they should catch up from there."
Outskirts of Kástro Ronan
It was time
Atek looked at the assembled forces, now numbering close to 11,400 fighters, all pledging themselves to him: glancing at himself in the water of the Tidfadl, Atek saw the metal coils that wrapped around his chest and torso, indicating his status as their leader. Lifting the two serrated axes with ease, Atek felt more strength now than ever, the weeks spent training now leading them to this moment: beyond the River lied Kástro Ronan, and with it, the Fog Splitter. While the position of the riverbank meant he could not see it, the hertagsen had informed him that it was still docked, though the defending forces were placed surrounding it.
Turning to the assembled ranks, Atek saw the hertag that he assigned to lead the meetings now running towards him: gesturing the guards to stand down, Atek stood before him, the hertag bowing, "My Lord, I have done what you have asked: I bear the fruits of your endeavors." "What do you present to me, brother," Atek asked, the hertag pulling out a skinscroll and reading, "The leader of Reis'kjan, a rogue Phylakitai by the name of Azkalon, has pledged his support to you and has sent some of the city's noblewomen as incentive: he has also pledged to keep the Republic's forces distracted in the Underground so long as he continues to control the city independently. The Arvesh and Desert Raiders have also agreed to your demands and have begun to raid the northern parts of the Ahnsijnate.
As for Nimir and the First Tribes, it is unfortunate to say that the Republic responded fasted than we did: Nimir has been placed under direct control by Varan, while the Atake and Koven were decimated and declared dissolute by Republican forces in violation of the Pilnvaras. We have gained the support of the Verush tribe, however, and they have sent their allies on the opposite riverbank of Kástro Ronan to commit a pronged attack - they're awaiting your command as we speak."
Atek nodded, gesturing for a kavan to fire a lit bolt as a sign for the Verush to attack: turning to the assembled forces, Atek spoke, "Brothers, Sisters, today we will begin our campaign to finally take Kástro Ronan and Varan in the name of the Warfather. As we speak, thousands of warriors assembled at Kástro Ronan await our attack, in an attempt to prevent us from claiming their fleet and, more importantly, the Fog Splitter. Today, we will spill blood in the name of the Father, and we shall give him his long-awaited tithe of blood that the Republic has denied him for so long. Weapons at the ready: wait for the bolt to launch and pray that you either die in glory or stand above the corpses of the heretics in victory."
Turning away, Atek cleared his throat as he saw a Republican force assemble: grabbing an amplifier made from wood, he spoke, "Heretics, hear me! I am Atek the Champion! Destroyer of Velran, the Chosen of the Warfather! You and ALL your kind are cowards! Lowly lickspittles! You must be emulating that band of old skeletons you call a Council and Temple! You are as dead and as useless as the Kin of Kreigsadar! I am destroying your settlements and villages, heretics, yet you do NOTHING! I see your precious soldiers, your fleet of ships, anchored within Ronan! I AM HERE! FACE ME, IF YOU DARE!"
An arrow flew past him, striking the hertag behind him: without looking back, Atek lifted an ax and swung down, the kavan firing the bolt. As the roars of the Verush and their allies emerged from behind the fort, Atek and his men charged, their screams melting into the air as the Siege of Kástro Ronan began.
1. Warlord - In this instance, it is commonly accepted amongst the Arvesh tribe and the bands of Desert Raiders that the title of Warlord is claimed by any chieftain who leads a warband of more than 150 warriors at any time. Because of the scarcity of supplies and men within the Western Sea, the title is rarely used, only having been recorded once during the Pacification of the Western Sea in 50 A.R.A. (3,900 years ago), when a confederation of Arvesh and Raider chieftains agreed to unite their forces in opposition of the advancing Kyran forces: said confederation collapsed after the capture of the Oasi tax-Xmajjar Aħmar in 50.5 A.R.A. (3,895 years ago), and the title along with it as the survivors split off into numerous warbands.
|
|