[I] The armies of the young king rarely lost a battle. For each death they took five with them. In the end the remaining kingdoms met with the new power and signed a peace treaty which is known as the Mercy Pact. They relinquished control and took seats as governors. The steam collation was born. [/I]

[B]Stet[/b]

The waters around the massive coastal city were never warm enough though they never had a harsh winter. Scientists suspect that there were possible underwater currents that carried cold water from the north down to stet's coast. The navy had a very large presence here, sailors milled about going about their jobs or taking some liberty. There was a small naval base located further down the shore. It was too small for a ship to dock but large enough to house a thousend men. It was well fortified and looked very daunting, massive coastal guns pointed outwards while smaller guns pointed inwards. There were military emplacements everywhere. Though there was no war, it was constantly on a state of high alert.

Lord Byron, was dressed in his physical training gear, which consisted of small tan shorts and a white undershirt that was three sizes to small. The shirt had "instructor" stenciled on the back of it and his name on the front. He was in incredible shape, had short red hair, and a thick red mustache that covered his mouth. His job had been the steam guard advisor for the king, but in recent months found himself on a new mission. His job was pour over almost every record of every military unit and find the best of the best. He had to choose 1750 test subjects. It took him and a staff of ten months to complete their list. 

Every man on the list was an accomplished, soldier,Sailor, or airman. They were physically and mentally the best the country had to offer. 250 of the men who did not meet the age standers were to become instructors after going through the prescribed course themselves. The main physical training course lasted five months, it consisted of 10 mile beach runs, push ups, sit ups, laying in the fridges surf, running obstical courses, learning how to work small landing crafts, intense swimming which could range from 5 miles to 8 miles, Under water swimming, weighted swimming, drowning exercises, and any other excerises the instructor could throw at them. Out of the 250 only 100 made it.

Lord Byron of course held a majority of the records. He was a top competitor in most things always striving to be the best. The next portion the other 150 filled. They were taught basic, advanced, demolition, basic shooting, advanced shooting, recon, stealth ops, parawing drops, and survical techniques. These 150 trained the 100 instructors. In the end the 100 were incredibly strong, and lethal. They had survived what most thought the human body could not undergo. And now these men who didn't meet the initial age limit were to train the younger generations.

The first day started out with a list of instructions, basic and simple. How to make their bed, store equipment and if they wished to quit they had to turn in their rifle, and knife. The next day was medical work, and paperwork. The third day started thirty minutes after they went to bed. They began their first course of push ups, until none could stand, next was a two mile run to the swim area, more push ups in the fridges cold water. Next was buddy carries, and drags. Through the next serval weeks they were taught loyalty, the meaning of intense physical and mental pain, and brotherhood. Everyday was different, yet the same. They were verbally abused and many times physically. There were many drops the first two months 800 had dropped. Only 700 remained. They fought hard and long and were now approaching their final month everyone of them almost dead from exhaustion. Only 600 were left.

Lord Byron stood on the wooden walk way along the beach, his eyes drilling holes into the men as they linked arms in the cold water the six hundred were broken down into 50 man groups. Each group had five primary instructors. Byron's group had it especially rough. "Let's go you weak garbage, I've never seen anyone so weak as you. You're the absolute worst! You've been at this for four months And you think you're good enough to graduate first phase? Bullshit! I should send you back to the beginning. You shouldn't be allowed to have it this easy! Let's go! Push up position! Lock arms! 100! Begin!" His voice was naturally loud, and when he yelled it could be heard for miles, so his colleagues say. The men groaned and as quickly as their worn out bodies could they got into the push up position. Most of the time they plopped into the to tired to carry on. Their buddies would shout and scream for them to get up and eventually they would.

He never let them know how proud of his group he was. They were all hard men, strong and brave. In the final three weeks it wouldt be cake they'd be allowed to rest and recover. Every three weeks they got three days off for recovering, grooming, and to catch up on sleep. After the fifth month they would graduate and form the first "Dead Commandos" their information would be wiped clean, their families think them dead for their eight year term after which they would be paid handsomely. The trainees wore similar clothes to Byron, small tam shorts, and white undershirts that were stenciled "Instructee" followed by their number which they were assigned. After this wash, he'd make them run to the chow hall four miles away for a quick ten minute breakfast. So sad it was only 5am. 

This was the new special forces of the steam collation. 

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[B] Knights cliff [/b] 

Lord Charles was getting anxious with all the drama recently happening, a trade embargo, trolls and orcs attacking his ally. Things would be very interesting in the next few days when the ball was to happen. He had roughly six days before such a thing would happen . he had received a letter from Byron informing him about his new troops. And he was pleasently surprised. Of course the drop outs were not allowed to leave until the training was completed.