Spleen x Ekreture

[h2][center][b] Somewhere in Mycae, Scaveni Horde [/b][/center][/h2]

The leaders of the usually separate hordes piled into the main tent of the king yet again. For the first time in two decades, the morale of the horde has actually seemed to raise, with children starting to play outside, and people regularly praying at the gods' shrines.

King Vorin sat on a mat; since the hordes were to leave the next morning, he'd rather not set up a whole table. He wore a robe, not feeling the need for armor being in Mycaean territory, and awaited as his advisors and the leaders of his people piled in; Drago, the scout, often seen as the hero of the Scaveni. Reimlyk the Younger, the dwarf hero and bearer of the Sword of Lodd, who know often speaks for the Dwarves. Sudd, his brother, and leader of one of the military hordes, with Lessik, the High Priest of Vascun and known werewolf following behind him. Wunal Luddsman, another leader of a military horde, and his close friend. His sons, hated by the commoners, but tolerated by the nobility. Rudik Greentree, the High Judge, and supervisor of the main horde. A few more followers, nobles, and Scaven members followed after, and after some pleasantries were exchanged, Vorin spoke up.

"As you may have noticed, my daughter, Eosia, is missing." There were worried murmers among the group. "Do not fret-I have sent her to establish relations with the nearest nation to the west...Corm...Corp..Cone..."

"Cormyral," corrected Drago. He and Reimlyk were the only ones in the test who still carried their weapons wherever they went. Vorin gazed at him with annoyanced, and gave a quick glance to the dragon on his neck. 

"Yes. But in the meanwhile, Rudik, how are the foodstores?" Rudik grew red in the face. He knew he would have to talk at some point, but even though the news wasn't terrible, it could still be better. And he didn't want anyone to harbor animosity towards the Mycaeans.

"Uh...well...the Mycaeans have refused to restock our food supplies...but we should be able to make it to this...Corn...mural...with food. If they agree to provide us with some food, we should be fine." Vorin nodded. 

"Good." He looked at Reimlyk. The dwarf was sitting off to the side watching a mouse run around on the floor. Every way it went, he would box it in, but for some reason it never gave up that it would find a way out. "Reimlyk, it's been awhile since I've heard your voice. How goes it in the dwarf camp?" Reimlyk looked up the King of the humans he travelled with.

"Good." Vorin raised an eyebrow. 

"Good?" Reimlyk nodded. "Pigs are fat. I haven't killed a tin man in a while. It is good."

"Ragnarok has begun" A feminine voice spoke up. "Just as was foretold three hundred years ago." The speaker stepped forward from the shadows where there clearly had been no one mere moments ago. She was dressed much as she was the previous times she had appeared before King Vorin and his men, in a simple brown cowl, the hood raised and the obviously unnatural shadows it cast completely hidding the top half of her face from view.

Wunal's eyebrows rose high. "The Sage!" As Drago looked over to her, his hand moved to his axe. He didn't like things he couldn't immediately understand...of course, she had always been helpful. But he wasn't sure where she's been leading them. King Vorin stood up from the mat and stepped towards her. "Sage, what is it you speak of?"

"Ragnarok" The Sage answered. "The End War and the ultimate objective of those you call the Einherjar." She seemed to look at each individual in turn before turning her gaze to Vorin. "All that has occured till now has been to sustain them and grow their power in preparation for this."

Sudd spit on the ground, his arms folded below his long, black beard. "If this is the end why have you led us here? Why not let us die as heroes in our homeland?" Lessik smiled at his lord's bravery in speaking in such away, licking the tips of his sharpened teeth. Rudik, on the otherhand, started sweating, nervous that she would lash out at the king's brother.

"I merely showed you a possible path." The Sage sounded almost amused. "It was you who chose to walk on it." She took a few steps towards Sudd and, despite being dwarfed by the man, somehow seemed to possess the presence of a much bigger entity. "What is a hero?" She asked after a moment. "A man who throws his life away for nothing?" She paused for a moment, almost as if inviting him to answer. "Or a man who sacrifices so that others may live?"

The king's brother grunted, and stood, looking at her directly in the eyes. "And what sort of living is this? Moving every night? Fighting an enemy that we could never defeat? Living in squalor in a land a continent away from where we are from?" The last question was a shout. He inhaled deeply, before saying, in a quieter voice, "I did not choose to be here." He looked to his brother. "I merely obeyed."

"ENOUGH!" Surprisingly, this did not come from the king. Reimlyk, dwarfed even by The Sage, now stood proudly. "Sudd, if you had died, there would have been more men. By Vascun's breath, Sjin, if all the Scaveni had died, there would have been more men. But only ten thousand of my kind still walk this earth, and I must see if there is a way to keep them on it." He looked to the Sage. "So? Is there?" Sudd, still disconent, grunted and sat back down.

"This continent has strength enough to fend off this threat." The Sage said. "But it is divided. Distracted. Vulnerable. Its greatest power, Mycae, will be hit early and hard. Whether the blow shatters the rest or helps consolidate them..." The Sage shrugged. "The hearts of men are hard to read."

Reimlyk had sat down while she spoke. Drago, still sitting, gazed at her, and spoke, not standing with the same passion as his comrades. "And us? What is our part in this? Yes, you showed us a path, but why? There were countless lands and peoples closer to this continent than Scavenia. Why have you chosen us while all others perished?" His hand had moved off of his axe. He was leaning back, but very curious about her answer to this question.

"A wise friend once told me 'you ought not look a gift horse in the mouth.'" Her lips turned upwards ever so slightly at the memory. "Will you waste your questions on my motivations or seek knowledge about these lands you find yourself in?"

Drago rolled his eyes. Now Vorin spoke again. "I have sent my daughter to Cormyral. Will she be safe there? And can they help us?" He seemed more worried as he spoke about his daughter than in anything else he spoke of. The princes, by now, as usual, had left, and were now off tormenting some commoners somewhere.

"Cormyral has food enough to feed your people" The Sage answered, "and still have some to spare. But it is not a monolithic entity. And there is much fear in that country. To its west is the Kingom of Riawin, which until recently controlled Cormyral. Mycae is also an object of great fear in Cormyral as, even though Mycae aided it against Riawin, it could also invade. There are whispers of the war with Riawin resuming." She paused before adding "That would be most unfortunate given events in the east."

Sudd leaned forward. "What of this Riawin? Will we be forced to take a side, or could we make arrangements with both? I cannot imagine it would be easy for them to put aside their hatreds." 

Lessik spoke up for the first time that day. "Who of them are stronger?"

"I cannot read the hearts of men" The Sage said to Sudd. "Who you side with, if anyone, is entirely up to you." She turned towards Lessik and spread her arms out to either side. "They are both powerful, but in different ways. Riawin has three distinct military groups, each that follows different leaders and employs different tactics. Despite this clear division of leadership, as a whole these armies are unified by their loyalty to Riawin and their 'Empress'. Cormyral's troops are experts of skirmishing and possess exquisite bow cavalry, but their loyalties lie with their ruling nobles first and the country as a whole second. Despite this division of loyalty, they are still united by their fear of external threats. In the end Cormyral won its independence from Riawin, but some would say that was due to the Empress's disinterest in continuing the war."

Drago still sat back, eyeing her inquisitively. "Do you speak to Cormyral? Or Riawin? Or Mycae? Do you just speak to us?" There was silence in the room for a second, before the scout sighed and lept up from the floor. "Forgive me for being apprehensive, Sjin, but after twenty years of flight, I think I've earned the right. I am aware of your refusal to say why you've made the Scaveni your...project. But I at least want to know if we're in any way unique."

"Do you wish to believe yourselves to be some kind of 'chosen' people?" The Sage asked.

Drago stepped closer. His arms were crossed, his upper teeth digging into his lower lip. Though his eyes showed know fear, the many other members of the Scaven in the room did. "I wish to know the truth." There was a fire in his breath.

"And if I refused to speak?" The Sage closed the distance between them, coming close enough that he could easily wrap his arms around her. She turned her head up to look at him, her lips forming a smile. "Would you beat me? Strangle me? Rip my hood off and pull my eyes out of my head? Wrap those arms of yours around me and crush me in their embrace till I stopped moving?" For a moment her smile seemed to widen, but suddenly her lips flattened into a frown. "What value is there to the truth if it doesn't aid you?"

Though he didn't move, Drago's spirit seemed to step back a little, his eyebrow raising at her violent descriptions. "The Mycaeans...they speak of a prophecy...one of a darkness. I am to guess the Einherjar, your Ragnarok...they are a part of it." The Scout relaxed his arms, and leaned forward. "Nowhere in this prophecy do they speak of half a million refugees pouring over the borders." He moved his hand over his beard. "Ten years fighting, you wonder how you're alive. Twenty years...you ask why. Forgive me if I offended the Sjin with my intrusiveness...and I would not hurt The great Sage." He turned to sit back down on his mat, but before he did, added on, "Although if others have in the past, I am sorry."

"You need not answer for the crimes of others" The Sage said after a moment, almost sounding disappointed. "The... so called Prophetess of these lands was a powerful being, but she was far from perfect. Otherwise she would not have given that final prophecy while being burned at the stake." The Sage shook her head as she spoke and gave a small shrug. "But to answer your question from earlier: I am, as of yet, unknown to the peoples of these lands. Now then..." She turned back towards the king. "Is there any other answers you seek?"

Vorin studied her for a moment, and, just as he began to shake his head, Wunal spoke up. "The gods. Do they still watch us? Lodd? Wanous? Aea?" He paused. "I...I know...you may not be able to answer this question. But...you must have some divine knowledge if you have known all that you do!"

The Sage regarded Wunal for a moment, seeming unsure whether to answer or not. After a moment she opened her mouth to speak. "The old gods have long since abandoned us. Can you not sense the gradual weakening of magic as their blood in us" She placed a hand over her chest, "becomes ever more dilluted. With every passing year the dragons become less magnificent, the children of mages that much more mundane. We are dying out and soon all that is left in this world will be mundane." She paused, sniffed, a smile spreading across her face again. "Or perhaps I will be proven wrong and they shall return."

Wunal simply nodded, and looked away from her. Lessik bared his teeth when she said they had been abandoned. Drago looked down, finding himself clutching onto his dragon pendant. It seemed warmer than normal. Reimlyk laughed. "Lodd left us out in the darkness and all I get is his lousy sword."

"That is more than most ever recieved from the old gods" The Sage turned as if she meant to return to the shadows from which she had made her entrance. She paused, however, as a thought occured to her. "They are close behind you." She said to Vorin. "Lord Goscelin has already fought mighty warriors from these lands."  She let out a long sigh. "He found them wanting. One of the four is dead. Another they are no feeding on. The remaining two are in flight."

Vorin stroked his beard. "Do we seek them? Will they find us?" He sighed. "I swear, you get more cryptic with every visit."

"They will either escape on their own or fall short." The Sage answered. "There is nothing you can do to alter their fate. I tell you only so you realize just how close the Einherjar are." She smiled at him. "Or would you rather I have just said something cryptic?"

Vorin nodded, embarrassed. "The hordes will split tomorrow, and we will resume our travelling westward. Thank you." Drago laughed. "Would The Sage like some mead before she heads back to the shadows?" He now laid back on the floor, with his head on the mat, looking up at the tent roof. He hated how powerless he felt sometimes.

The Sage shook her head as she turned away, but even so the ghost of a smile was visible to those looking. "Perhaps I will accept such a sacrifice another time." She said as she walked towards the shadows. "Although I would much prefer wine." She reached the shadows and walked into them, completely disappearing from view. "Perhaps if you prepare some and pray hard enough for my presence I'll come."

[h2][center][b]Levine, Kingdom of Cormyral[/b][/center][/h2]

The royal palace in Levine was by no means one of the great architectural wonders of the continent. It was a modest building, at least in terms of palaces, located in the center of town. What set it apart from most others was it had clearly been added to in recent years. New standards were evident throughout the building, new fur and cloth rugs. Even the doors that led to the throne room looked brand new.

"Prince Madec will see you and your party now" One of the soldiers who guarded those doors said to Princess Eosia. Something that would have become evident to her and those in her party early on was that the city, no the entire country, was preparing for war.

The doors were opened to admit the princess entry, granting her view of a large, but mostly empty, throne room. Towards the back was the throne, an elder man rested upon it. He didn't immediately notice the princess and her group, his attention on a young woman who stood to his side, discussing or arguing with him. As if to contrast the prince, the woman was young, in her mid to late twenties, and dressed in chain mail armor. An arming sword sheathed at her hip.

Eosia somewhat mirrored the young woman, still adorned by a full suit of scale armor, with a large shield in her hand, and her sword in her belt. She was followed by eleven of her shieldmaidens, all dressed in a similar fashion. The looked around; despite the modest nature of the palace, it still impressed them, being one of the first true buildings they stood in in years. Eosia looked between the two of them, unsure of who to approach; her grasp of their language was somewhat limited, and she still found gender to be confusing. Still uncertain, she simply stepped forward, placing her clench fist on her chest as a Scaveni sign of respect. 

"Sjenna, it is great honor speaking with you," said the warrior princess. "I come, represent my people. Scaveni." Her hair, unallowed to cut it as according to Scaveni custom, was tied in a side braid which trailed down to her chest.

"Sjenna..." The old man leaned forward in his throne. "Scaveni. These words are unknown to me."

The young woman frowned at her liege before turning towards Eosia. "This is his Majesty, Prince Madec. And I am Duchess Langelier." She gave Eosia a slight bow. "What brings you to our lands?"

The shieldmaidens behind Eosia were muttering to each other, pointing to the Duchess, with one word being heard above others; 'Gjerla'. Eosia nodded at her in thanks. She was nervous, used to war, not diplomacy. "I, Scaveni. My people, Scaveni. My father...he is...no prince..." She thought for a moment for the correct word. "King."

She built up the sentences in her head before continuing. "I am Eosia, child of Vorin. My people were once many, but now, not...we are from far. Far from this...Askor? Fought from home...Scavenia. The Einherjar...they fought us long. Since I was small. We...need travel through these lands."

Prince Madec raised an eyebrow as he exchanged a look with the Duchess. "Your people traveled here from beyond the mountains?"

The Duchess' frown deepened. "Einherjar.... Are they still pursuing you after so long? You must be at least twenty years old. How many of you are there? Where are you going?"

"And what" Madec cut in, "Does Girla... Geja... Gjerla? What does that mean?"

At the prince's question, Eosia's face grew red. "Gjerla...it is, eh...kin of spirit?" She looked to the Duchess. "We are Feljirtas...eh...women of shields. You are too. So we Gjerla." She looked down. How is she getting embarrassed? She's sliced through fields of Einherjar like a knife through butter, but meeting with some lord she gets embarrassed? She looked back at them. "Einherjar...yes, twenty years. How long they have...purse-ued. I am twenty and five. Eh..." She tried figuring out how many there were.

"Half of one...melon. There are half of one melon Scaveni." She reddenned at the snickers of the guards, then realized her mistake. "Million! Half of one million Scaveni." She paused. "The Einherjar...they will destroy the...Mai-say. So we go west."

"That sounds disturbingly like the prophecy." The Duchess commented. Prince Madec simply rolled his eyes.

"Why you believe such nonsense is beyond me." He said. "We have greater concerns than your fairy tail. We both know the Riawins are spoiling for a fight."

"And this Einherjar threat?" The Duchess turned slightly towards her liege while keeping an eye on the Scaveni.

"They are Mycae's problem." The prince answered, eliciting a small shake of the head from the Duchess. "We don't even know if they" he gestured towards the Scaveni, "are speaking the truth."

"True." The Duchess agreed. "But we soon will. Cedric will return with the answers we seek."

The Prince scowled at her. "We will discuss that later." He returned his full attention to Eosia. "You wish to move a half million people through our lands?" His eyes narrowed. "That's an army."

Fairy tale. The words were ringing in Eosia's head. That this spoiled Prince dared to degrade her and her people's struggle as a mere story...she felt a rage build inside of her. But, as she was about to start shouting, she closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Rage would get her nowhere. Instead, she handed her shield to one of her maidens, and looked up at the two of them. "May I pull sword, Sjenna?"

The Prince seemed to be about to say 'no', but simple shrugged and gestured for her to do so. The Duchess didn't say anything, but nodded to Eosia, resting the forearm of her left arm on the hilt of her sword.

Eosia nodded in thanks, slowly drawing out her sword, and resting the blade in her offhand, holding it as a presentation rather than a weapon. She slowly approached the throne, before kneeling down in reaching distance of The Prince and saying, "You may take."

The sword itself was beautiful. The blade was made of a fine Dwarven steel, and the hilt of silver. The pommel was shaped like Wanous's axe, and despite years of use, it has clearly been shown a certain respect and affection from its user.

That said, bloodstains covered the blade, and the sword of a whole. But these bloodstains were not the red or oxidized brown of humans. It was black, black like tar. It seemed like it was a shadow that had been turned to a liquid, a darkness that had enveloped this fine blade.

The Prince took the offered sword, looking it over only as a true swordsman would. His eyes narrowed as he took in the bloodstains. They were odd, unknown to him. After a few moments of observation he returned the sword to Eosia. "This proves little."

The Duchess let out a fustrated sigh. "I've never seen bloodstains such as those."

"Nor I" The Prince agreed. "But all that it proves is that out there" He gestured towards the East, "are creatures with strange blood. So tell me" He seemed to be addressing both the Duchess and Eosia, "would you have me handle a known enemy on my doorstep or ignore that to prepare for some distant entity that I do not know of?"

"Riawan," spoke the Princess, "why are they enemy?" She asked, sheathing he sword and standing up, before taking a step back, though not returning to her original location.

"We were once one country" The Duchess answered. "But we had some... disagreements in how the country should be run and who should have power. Needless to say we could come to no compromise, so we decided to break free. Obviously the empress of Riawin didn't take too kindly to that."

The Princess nodded, with a look of understanding on her face despite the lack of it inside of her. "That is much reasons. Einherjar has no reasons. They kill. They fight. They torture. They know nothing else." She paused. "I not ask you to send army to fight them. I ask for you to let Scaveni through your land." She took a deep breath. "And for food for them."

The Prince leaned back into his throne and although he said nothing, the look in his eyes was one of denial. He was observing the Scaveni princess, perhaps trying to decide exactly how to word his denial. The Duchess shifted her stance, her chain mail clincing as she did so. She glanced up at the prince before saying "You may travel through my lands."

"What?" The Prince sounded like he wasn't sure what he just heard. "You can't-"

"Yes I can" The Duchess cut him off. "The throne may control the royal capital and highways, but it does not control movement through the lands of the aristocracy."

"Your lands are nowhere near the border. They have no route through the country." The Prince countered.

"Then we need only negotiate with the various lords." The Duchess stated. "And we have food enough to feed both our army and the Scaveni."

By this point the Prince's face had gone entirely red and, for a moment, he looked about to explode. He didn't, however, and instead took a few calming breaths, perhaps realizing that now wasn't the time to force a confrontation with the Duchess. He took one final breath before calmly asking "But do they have the means to pay for our food?"

At this, for the first time in the meeting, Eosia smiled. She yelled out, "Da!" And two shieldmaidens stepped forward, carrying a massive chest, covered in engravings of dragons, gods, and trolls. The chest alone would have been worth a fortune, but they unlatched the lock, and opened it up. It was filled with not only treasures of the Scaveni, but treasures from the many ruined cities and castles the Scaveni had encountered on their trek. There were gold coins, jewels and jewelry, as well as weapons, in addition to some scrolls and books written in various languages.

"This...from my personal treasure." She looked to the Prince, and sarcastically said, "Is it...good?"

The Prince's eyes lit up as he took in the fortune. "Yes. Yes it is."

"A pity you won't be able to tax this." The Duchess said with a wide grin, "since they won't be using the highways or coming here to the capital."

The Prince frowned, but shrugged after a moment. "Yes, I suppose it is. But keep in mind that I will hold you personally responsible should they cause any issues."

"Of course." The Duchess rendered a low bow, her tone belying the rolling of her eyes that the bow had hidden.

"Is that all you wished to discuss?" The Prince asked.

Eosia nodded, satisfied in what she had accomplished. "Eh...there is one more though...would you host my women and me before my people come..." she turned the Duchess and said, "...Gjerla?"

"I have an estate her in the capital. It may be a bit cramped with so many guests, but I should be able to house all of you if a few of your.... servants? Don't mind sharing a bed." The Duchess said.

The Scaveni princess nodded with a fist to her chest. "Of course Gjerla, we have done this before...but they are not servants...they are warriors. Pardon the correction, it is just they fought their lives...I speak for them in saying they are servant to no man."

"My apologies... Gjerla" The Duchess tested the word, not quite pronouncing it right, but getting close enough. "I should have showed more respect to your retinue." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I have some more business to see to here in the palace, but I could have a few guards show you the way to my estate now if you wish."

The princess nodded. "That would be much thanked." She turned to the Prince. "Thank for...hearing me." She put her fist to her chest again before turning to leave, then stopped to ask. "Oh...where would I send the horse?"

"My servants will see to the needs of your retinue and horses once you arrive at my estate" The Duchess answered.

Eosia blushed. "No...eh...my father sends horse from his line with me as gift for host...I thought it would be the Prince, but it seems it is not the case..."

"The Duchess is your host." The Prince answered. "It is only right that she recieves this gift."

Eosia nodded. "Gjerla...I will bring it to...ess-tate?"

"Yes" the Duchess said with a nod. "and I will follow you to the estate shortly."