[center][i] ...The Old Marakhan Demigodaite was the Outbound Tykassian League's primary competitor for edgeward expansion. Ruled by a ruthless Exalt, Khan Hashkaband, they proliferated the edge of Elysia with vassal, slave states, in an aggressive push to claim the resources of the outer-systems. The Empires raced each other towards the unknown... And eventually, War. Khan Haskaband grew envious of the successful nature of the Tykassian League's Colonies, while his slave states dissolved into chaos and barbarism. Perceiving this is an imminent threat to his power, he ordered his armies and fleets to seize the League's colonial possessions, to the horror of his advisors, who pleaded him to rein in Marakhan's own wayward dominions. The War was short, and went badly for the Demigodaite, while the League maintained a professional army the invaders sent out waves of poorly armed conscripts. So was Hashkaband's hubris, thinking there was no force in Elysia that could overcome him. But as the war raged on, and The Outbound Tykassian League claimed victory after victory (see the battles for Sunndanke, Thrall's Sprawl and Tyko'Bata), more amoung their ranks became exalted through battle. This greatly accelerated the fall of the fall of the Demigodaite. The conflict culminated in the collapse of Hashkaband's Empire, though from found records and transcripts of interrogations of enemy officers, the tyrant fled into hiding months before his kingdom crumbled. With the close of The War, the newly Exalted of the Tykassian Army returned to their homes with a thirst for more than provincial life. The seeds were sewn for the next bloody chapter of The League's history, "The Civil War in The Core Realms" and "The Colonial Wars of Succession"... [/i][/center]

	
[color=696969][h3][center]Jornwuld Ritaynur[/center][/h3][/color]

	
"Utinni... This is much a peculiar garment," Jeet said aloud, holding it up and inspecting it with childlike curiosity before nodding quickly, "Mmmm, good. We make the trade, Yes?" Jeet was the owner of a squat brick warehouse, situated several hundred cubits from the downed airship that dominated the centre of town. In his youth, he used to be part of a group of specialists that looked after the water collector and life support cooling systems, now he was the fourth largest purveyor of ice and ice related products in all of the city. His competitors being the other Weegee brothers. Jornwuld snorted, shaking her head. 
	
It was by luck, or lack thereof, that Jornwuld had arrived on Terersg. It was meant to be a routine stop, to give Tarkarus time to recuperate from another stretch of hard riding. But life had never made anything routine for Sigasmarandi. Upon dismounting the giant bat and sinking her boots into the sand, Jorn realised the mistake she had just made, as the peldmaus flapped its wings and took off the oppressive heat began to sink in.
	
And every time she tried to call Tarkarus back to her from that moment on, was met by silence.
	
Jornwuld spent what felt like forty years wandering the desert, stopping in the day, taking cover in the shade of hills and caves and moving at night when the fridged temperature suited her best. It was during this melancholic cycle of walking and sleeping that her cooling suit began to fail, unable to keep up with the heat of the day and regular sips of coolant water Jorn took. The days dragged on and the suit did less and less to assuage the lacerating heat. It was during the fourth night of marching that the thought of dying turned from hypothetical to possible, as when she brought her cracked lips to the filling tube for a drink, she discovered that the suit was dry. 
	
Had day come and her suit was empty she would have most certainly been buzzard-food by noon. But it seemed that fate would throw her bone, just this once. 
	
In the hazy distance Jorn spotted the amber-white glow of electric illumination, and wordlessly shambled towards it at a hurried pace. It was a town, no, a city! Her first instinct was to find food, fill a belly that had been empty for four days prior, striking gold at a traveller's temple that offered free oil and bread for the wayward wanderer. The oil was of the hyper-corn variety, and the bread was stale and tasted of milled oat chaff, but as she wolfed it down in a secluded corner it was the most delicious thing in Elysia. When the sun came up, and the heat in the alley where she had made sleep became unbearable,  she sought out a place where she could have her cooling rig repaired. And after almost causing a riot when she asked around for who the best "cooler-fixer-upper" was, found her way to Jeets.
	
From where she sat atop a massive block of ice, Jornwuld replied in backhanded fashion. "[color=696969]Sure, give me your liver and the suit is yours.[/color]" The Seeg squinted, unsure whether the statement was a joke or a legitimate offer.
	
"Seeq has not a liver." As he spoke, a gaggle of his kind moved through the alley that the Ice Factory exited out to. Checking the ludicrously large timepiece that Jeet had hanging from his neck, he made a small noise of surprise, "Oh! Speech start soon! You stay, Barbell, Jeet come back after speech and fix liver suit!" From behind her face wraps, Jornwuld opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by the continued babbling of the little creature as he toddled towards the door. "I come back one hour tops! You stay!" As he passed the threshold into the street, he called back behind him. "This not mean discount!" Jeet disappeared around the corner, absorbed into the stream of small, hairy rodents.
	
Jornwuld sighed in frustration.

"[color=696969]Perfect...[/color]"