[center][u][h1]A Dwarf Plots; A Promethean Commands[/h1][/u][/center] [center][h2]A Scalethein Empire Post - Spring, 500 A.E[/h2][/center] [hr] [b]Character:[/b] Warmaster Bloodaxe [b]Location:[/b] War Summit of the Stone Guard, Uthein The crisp cold of Spring did little to deter the steel-clad sentry that stood stiffly upon the ramparts of the War Summit, overlooking the endless mountain ranges of the World's Centre. A few scattered showers of weak snow pressed past the Dwarf, swirling around him as if realising going through was never an option with this particular being. "And 'ere I am, master of all I see," Bloodaxe mumbled to himself, his horned full helm lifting slightly with each word. Heavy plated footfalls disturbed Bloodaxe from his reverie, and he looked down the rampart towards an approaching group of his men; Stone Guards, in full battle dress and carrying arms. He offered a hidden smile at the sight of them, as he allowed his mind to wonder the future's potentials. "Warmaster," the lead soldier called out, beating his chest with a mailed hand. "We bring tidin's from Uthein." Bloodaxe raised an eyebrow beneath his helm, "Aye, be that so?" The soldier nodded. "The Senate be annoucin' the Stone Guard Review; it seems our friends in the Senate were unable to block the motion." Bloodaxe did not reply immediately, but instead returned to his silent vigil over the mountains. [i]Senate[/i], his mind cringed at the mere mention of the word. When had his people become so weak? Pandering to the wishes and wants of a few fat, wealthy old men who knew nothing of war, of honour. "Let 'em have their bloody review," he said at last. "They be fools to opposin' me. Even that Kobold bitch be frightened of what I can do, so I be doubtin' a chamber of impotent old whores will conjure much." "Senator Stonebrim is leading the review," the soldier blurted out quickly. "It seems yer offers of endorsement did not deter him from championing the motion." Bloodaxe sighed, "T'is a pity that. He's a good man, the least rotten in a basket of rotten apples." "Your orders, Warmaster?" the soldier asked; the others looked at their liege for the willingness of excited children. "Sound a muster. I want all of our boys gathered here at the Summit, in their full entirety. Let us give the Senate some perspective, aye? Stonebrim will soon understand that to threaten me will mean civil war, and I imagine he'll back off from that point onwards - until the time be right for us to strike, in any case," Bloodaxe replied quickly, his words full of energy. The soldier nodded, beat his chest once more, and quickly departed the Warmaster with the rest of his companions. "And 'ere I am, master of all I see," Bloodaxe said with more clarity than before, as he looked back out across the endless mountains. [hr] [b]Character:[/b] Tall Ape Galarg [b]Location:[/b] Ruins of Promethea Galarg rolled from his mate, breathing heavily with exertion; today's session had been a lengthy one, and his "sparring" partner was more than up to his various "challenges". "Giving up so soon?" purred Trilne, as she sat up and started to stroke his muscular chest with her knotted fingers. "I expected more from our 'glorious leader'; a youngling could have ridden me with more ferocity." Without hesitation or a word, Galarg shot up and caught Trilne across the face with a strong right hook, knocking her from the grassy mattress. She rolled to a standstill, spat blood and teeth, and then hopped to her feet with a snarl. Her pale eyes showed aggression, and her twisted features hatred, but Galarg wasn't concerned. "Had someone heard that," Galarg retorted. "I'd be wearing your face and feeding your tits to those younglings you seem so fond of." Trilne clenched her fists and moved closer, "You would die trying." Now it was Galarg's time to snarl, and he jumped up from the mattress and landed in a classic Promethean fighting stance. "Bring it, bitch dog!" Trilne accommodated his request, and lunged forwards with two lightning-quick jabs. Galarg dodged the first easily, but the second caught him on the chin; he stumbled back, knocking over a nearby uprooted tree stump he had used as a table. Trilne moved in, following her attacks up with a full-bodied kick to his torso. Galarg grabbed her leg with his left hand, and pulled it forwards. Trilne fell on her arse, and before she could move, Galarg's heavy foot was imprinting itself in her neck. She struggled like an enraged bear to free herself, scratching at his calf, but nothing could budge her king's weight. "You are still too clumsy, Trilne," Galarg uttered. "Even a youngling would have seen that kick coming. You lack the imagination of your father; he was a great warrior, who'd never perform such foolery." Galarg removed his foot, leaving Trilne to gasp fresh air into her starved lunges, and muttered croaky curses through her bruised throat. "Now leave me, woman, and fetch me some bre-" He started to say. "My Tall Ape, my Tall Ape!" a frantic, hoarse male voice roared from outside of Galarg's tent. "We're under attack!" Galarg burst from his tent, still naked, fists clenched and snarling. Ooritz greeted him, the old ape cut and bloodied, and panting heavily. "Who and where?" "The Little Folk from the North; they are scouring the ruins," Ooritz panted, bending over with exertion. "My sons hold them at bay, but they will not last long." Galarg nodded to himself. Today was a good day to die. "Woman," he shouted with a slight turn of his head, "fetch my spear." Seconds later, the tent flaps burst open, as a wooden spear flew through it - Galarg caught the weapon without looking. He ran to a nearby rock, that elevated him a good five feet above the collected hovels of his village. He beat his chest rhythmically with a powerful fist, snarling in blood lust. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" he roared, and his people burst from the hovels, carrying clubs and axes. At first there was dozens, and then there were scores, and after a minute of continuous shouts of alarm, there were hundreds.