[h1][u]Act One: The Defense of Relouse[/u]____ __ _ _[/h1] [h2][u]Chapter One: A King's Call[/u]_________ __ __ _ _[/h2] [hr][hr][center][sub][url=https://www.artstation.com/artwork/GDxlz]Art by Oliver Guiney[/url][/sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/oBhebTS.jpg?1[/img][/center] [hr][hr][h3][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnkTuHP9q3o][color=ed1c24]𝅘𝅥𝅮 [/color][/url] [color=ed1c24]Meldheim, Eskand: One Week Previous[/color][/h3] [hr][hr] [color=CD5C5C]A seagull glided across the fjord, wheeling and bleating upon the cool evening wind. Each flap of its wings was measured as it rode the fast-cooling thermals. Beneath it were a great many humans standing by the water. These were of concern to the animal only insofar as their detritus provided an easy source of food before nightfall. Beyond that, it gave little care for the rituals of those strange land-bound animals. They stood there in multitude, though, in a place called Meldheim. Before them stretched the cold grey waters of the Veldskyr. Yet, one could almost walk upon the sea for so many longships called it home. Behind them, a city roosted upon a hill where it rose to meet the walls of the fjord. Smoke spiraled into the darkening sky from a hundred chimneys and forges, black and wispy against a vast red sun. Finally, it sank from view and the glow of fires licked and flickered amid the burgeoning twilight. It took a dozen strong men to set the longship going. The king could’ve done so himself, using the Gift, but he did not. This would be the last chance for these loyal warriors to act in service of their Jarl before they met again in Grønhalle. He would not deny it to them. Without oarsmen, a vessel meant for them is directionless. Silently, King Hrothgar, a man many called ‘The Black’ for the armour he had earned slaying the legendary Mørkt Fjell, reached out with the immense power given to him by the Gods. The lone longship went still some ways from shore and there it sat in open water far from its brethren. [color=000000][b]“Into the darkness, brother, you voyage,"[/b][/color] spoke the king solemnly. A rose of flame blossomed on the craft and spread quickly. [color=000000][b]"The journey from this land to the next is long, but we know that your deeds will go before you and guide you."[/b][/color] [color=000000][b]“It wasn't right that you fell in the Greenlands,”[/b][/color] Hrothgar continued, [color=000000][b]“That unholy place with its crowded stinking cities, false gods, and greedy, grasping men, but you fell fighting in Bróðir’s presence, with bravery in your sword arm and the names of the gods on your lips.”[/b][/color] He bowed his head. [color=000000][b]“Though we will not see you arrive at Gestur's table, we know, one day, that we too will hear the call, and we will meet you there to drink and feast until the time of the Giving.”[/b][/color] [color=000000][b]“Let this fire of Faðir cleanse your vessel from this mortal plane,”[/b][/color] the king said. [color=000000][b]“So that your spirit may voyage."[/b][/color] The longship was fully ablaze now. [color=000000][b]"Voyage well, my brother and my friend."[/b][/color] He bowed his head and, from behind him rose a cry so loud as to shake the heavens, as to let Gestur know that a warrior worthy of a seat at the table was coming. [color=ed1c24][b]“Til Grønhalle!” “Til Grønhalle!” “Til Grønhalle!”[/b][/color] [/color] [color=B22222]It echoed into the darkness, off of the cold stone walls of the fjord. The fires guttered and the stricken timbers smoked and steamed. Then the longship was gone and Einar, King of Juiskarn, with it. He had met his end bravely, overwhelmed by the superior numbers and treachery of the Greenlanders known as Parrench. It was those who were craftiest of all and as many as the pebbles on this beach. Always, Hrothgar knew, they were sending their art, their spices, and their music to the lands of the south. Most of all, they sent their priests to corrupt his people. Already, they had corrupted the kings of Kehreland and Feske and they would turn yet more of the Eskandr and their Drudgunzean kinsmen from the true gods. Less bloody than an axe but with the sureness of disease, they would destroy his people if he did nothing. When the priests come to Hrothgar, however, he had welcomed them into his halls. He had given them bread and salt. He had allowed them to bathe in the hot springs that nestled at the foot of the Eldfjall and its liquid fire. Hrothgar had entertained an entire colony of these Somnians, Stresians, and Dordians and his people had begun to doubt him. When he had called a great feast and invited those noblemen who he knew were wavering, who had friends in the Greenlands, they were waiting upon him to betray his fathers’ faith. Instead, he’d had the priests seized and placed in chains. He and his most loyal of men had carved the blood eagle upon all twenty-five of them. Their screams had filled the night and he had staked out his position in no uncertain terms: his ways were his ways. Eskand was a place for Eskandr and not these northern fools.[/color] [color=8B0000]Now, having made his statement, the King of Kings had called for his banners. Einar’s death had been as brave as it was tragic, but Horthgar would be remiss if he did not admit that its timing had been fortuitous. The Parrench and even some Drudgunzeans had begun to refer to the Eskandr as heathens. So be it. What Hrothgar had then gathered - what stood about and before him - was a Great Heathen Army. Tonight, they would feast and confer and celebrate the life of their brother. Three of his four children - two sons and a daughter - had made the journey and were among the army’s number. One would earn the crown, drenched in his enemy's blood, per Einar’s wishes. Tomorrow, they would set off. They would land upon the rugged shore near the rich walled town of Relouse and take it for their base camp. There, Hrothgar would make a king of one of his loyal Jarls, for he himself had no desire to wear a Greenlander crown. The Great Heathen Army would march on from there and extinguish the grasping, spreading kraken that was Parrence while it was yet in its infancy. Eskandr would burn those people out of the fertile lands that they claimed. They would break the nascent kingdom, they would break its people's will, and they would crush the Greenlanders’ faith in their greedy-eyed gods that would not live peacefully alongside those of others. The Army would steal the treasures of the north for Eskand and push the borders of Hrothgar’s empire once more past the River Haskell and the River Mejn. Yet, even as he stood there gazing out over his horde and glorying in their might, something came to him that he had felt only once before in his forty-odd years of life: a flicker of doubt.[/color] [hider=Action Opportunities]For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following: 1) There will be a night of feasting and celebrating before the army sets sail. Feel free to interact, to et hammered, to specifically eschew getting hammered, or to join Hrothgar in planning (he's going to drink, but not very much). 2) Feel free to have a quiet moment, pick up some equipment being made, visit a temple, pray to the Gods, or consult the Augurs. 3) The voyage by sea will mostly go as planned, but there will be one big rough patch. Maybe a chance to demonstrate some of your skills, your seasickness or lack thereof, or your massive (perhaps figurative) balls of steel? 4) You may write up to the point where you sight the Cape of Redame and prepare for battle. You may notice a small but not-insignificant force of mounted soldiers upon it (made up of Parrench PCs and NPCs) and they will harass your ships relentlessly with arrows and magic. Try to take some countermeasures, whether they be misdirection, escape, or counterattack. 5) Just around the cape is the bay and the beach where you'll make landfall. Waiting there is the massed might of the Grand Armee.[/hider] [hr][hr][center][sub][url=https://www.artstation.com/artwork/qOxeN]Art by Camille Bachmann[/url][/sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/CP1mDoB.jpg?1[/img][/center] [hr][hr][h3][color=fff200][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMXwluMcGrg][color=fff200]𝅘𝅥𝅮[/color][/url] Luderrich, Kingdom of Lindermetz: Two Weeks Previous[/color][/h3] [hr][hr] [color=FFFFE0]King Otto of Lindermetz, called the ‘Just’ by his people - it may have been intended as ironic; it may not have - was not necessarily an easy man to reach. Yet, Frida was an unusually persistent woman. Her quarrels with Folcher, the petty cloth merchant whose market stall was beside her husband’s, were the stuff of town legend at this point. That grasping, beady-eyed schweinhund was always displaying his wares over a vast area in front of his stall and - more importantly - in front of Hermann’s! So it was that Frida had taken her concerns at this blatant disregard for neighbourly decorum to the local bailiff, but he was the cousin of Folcher’s wife and had dismissed her concerns with some false words and a laugh when he had thought she wasn’t listening. In truth, she hadn’t been, but one of her daughter’s friends worked as a servant in his house. She had heard everything and told Frida. Next, she had gone to the magistrate and he had spoken sympathetic-sounding words. Yet, he had also refused to override the bailiff. He claimed that it was not his prerogative and that no good would come of such an action. For that, Frida had left three rotten eggs on his doorstep. The Quentic faith was supposed to be compassionate, or so she had been told time and again by those who were determined to convert her. Yet, Folcher kept the new gods and he was anything but. So had the King’s Justice, and he’d refused to act against a fellow Quentist in favour of a ‘pagan’. Where, Frida had thought, was the justice in that? On up the chain she had gone until she was here, in Luderrich, awaiting her audience with the king. It had been two years. Folcher’s booth had since moved to another, more affluent area of the Großer Markt, but she had seen matters through this far and she was seeking damages. She had many witness statements. The local New Somnian chapter had even helped her. Perhaps, she admitted grudgingly, these Quentists were good for [i]something[/i]. Though a part of Frida pushed back at the idea with the sort of stubbornness that had defined her life, she had even thought of converting. Pragmatically, she had prayed to both sets of gods for a resolution. She would see how matters settled and then decide. Certainly, it seemed ever more of her neighbours had been hanging those hourglass signs upon their lintels.[/color] [color=FFFACD]Yet, it appeared that, were it justice she sought, Frida would have to wait a bit longer. She was in the great hall now, where Otto of Lindermetz, a marginally plump little man with a stressed out pinkish face and chin-length blonde hair greased back beneath his crown, sat uncomfortably, shifting every so often on a great wooden chair. The cheese merchant’s wife had gone so far as to buy a new dress - though never from Folcher - without patches. She had been practicing her bow and address for some days now. So, imagine her annoyance when a couple of guards stepped in front of her and barred her path - and, incidentally, those of everyone behind her - with their crossed halberds. Men with fine robes and funny hats bustled about, then. They whispered in the king’s ear and Frida craned her neck to get a better look. [color=BDB76B][b]“Bring in the musician, too, I suppose.”[/b][/color] He shifted again on his throne, scratching at his bulbous little nose. [color=BDB76B][b]“Time to give her a test run, no? See if she can keep us entertained.”[/b][/color] The men in hats whispered some more, glancing down at the scrolls they held. The king heaved a much-put-upon sigh. [color=BDB76B][b]“And the swamp witch.”[/b][/color] He looked annoyed. [color=BDB76B][b]“Bring in the swamp witch. Why not? What other manner of freaks shall we enjoy today?”[/b][/color] Frida caught a bit of the exchange as one of the scribes raised his voice a little. [color=a36209][b]“It’ll move things along quicker, my lord.”[/b][/color] [color=BDB76B][b]“Enough so I can enjoy my evening hunt?”[/b][/color] [color=a36209][b]“In theory, my lord.”[/b][/color] [color=BDB76B][b]“I want quail tonight, Humbert. I have been too long without it.”[/b][/color] [color=a36209][b]“You’ve one more petition waiting in the hall.”[/b][/color] Humbert’s eyes slid towards Frida and she straightened, trying to look dignified. [color=a36209][b]“She’s been at it for quite some time.”[/b][/color] Otto sighed. [color=BDB76B][b]“A lengthy issue?”[/b][/color] The merchantwoman had excellent hearing, but she kept her expression neutral. [color=a36209][b]“No, something rather petty. We can fold her in with the others, after the lady knight. Give the woman her moment.”[/b][/color] Her expression slipped somewhat, but only briefly. Count on some powdered noble wanting to play knight to take up the king’s valuable time, and just when Frida was finally about to make good on two years of effort that had nearly made her a figure of fun. She saw the king nod, and then he waved for the guards at the side chamber to open the doors.[/color] [color=F0E68C][color=fff200][b]“Make way for Lady Hildr der Rote,”[/b][/color] shouted the crier, [color=fff200][b]“Slayer of the Vulkanischer Drache of Vigholm!”[/b][/color] [color=fdc68a][i]Volcanic Dragon. Pfft![/i][/color] Frida nearly rolled her eyes. If the dragon was a volcano, it wasn’t particularly mobile, now was it? She did not find herself impressed. She had once fought off an entire pack of Smiling Dragons with nary but a broom, some gloves, and a sturdy pair of boots. Give her a sword, armour, and some training and she likely could’ve dealt with the problem herself. When the stout merchantwoman saw what marched in from a side chamber, she let out a snort. [color=fdc68a][i]Some ridiculous lady knight in men’s clothes.[/i][/color] To Frida’s eyes, she looked half a girl: far too pretty to be any sort of fighter. Next came a strange pale girl in a dark robe. Her hair was… green as if covered in a slight film of moss, and Frida found herself making the signs of both the Family and the Pentad. [color=fdc68a][i]Ungodly creature![/i][/color] To have a swamp witch in his very throne room, King Otto was either brave, strong, or courting disaster. Finally, came a bard, dressed in harlequin robes and carrying a lute. [color=fdc68a][i]Pretty young thing,[/i][/color] Frida mused, looking her up and down. [color=fdc68a][i]Too lucky, lazy, or promiscuous to get a real job or a good husband.[/i][/color] The king stood, pushing off his throne’s armrests and stepping down so that he was near eye-level with the three new arrivals. He was a good deal taller than he had looked while seated, and not entirely without charm. He rubbed at his chin for a moment. [color=BDB76B][b]“You will state your business: each of you,”[/b][/color] he said briefly, pacing along in front of them. [color=BDB76B][b]“You, I know, were caught trespassing on my land. You are but a girl and…”[/b][/color] he paused and studied the young witch’s face for a moment, [color=BDB76B][b]“and not fully human by the looks of you. Apologize, pay homage, and you may work off your owings. No punishment will be necessary. I have, perhaps, a task for which you could be of use, and we would consider your debt paid upon completion.”[/b][/color] He stopped in front of the lady knight next. [color=BDB76B][b]“And you, Lady Hildr, your reputation certainly precedes you.”[/b][/color] [color=fdc68a][i]It does?[/i][/color] thought Frida. [color=BDB76B][b]“Yet…”[/b][/color] he glanced down at his boots for a moment and, when he looked up, annoyance showed on his face. [color=BDB76B][b]“I have heard disturbing reports that you still keep the old barbarian gods. That you have not found the light of the Pentad.”[/b][/color] He furrowed his brow. [color=BDB76B][b]“Truly, this is a shame. Why,”[/b][/color] he continued, spreading his arms apart, [color=BDB76B][b]“even now the Eskandr make preparations for war on Parrence. Our misguided brethren in Kressia join them, striking at our friends and trading partners from the south. Should I send you to that green land, how is it that I know you will not join your fellow pagans? Certainly, I have heard that you are very… [i]close[/i] with some of them.”[/b][/color] He moved on, coming to a stop in front of the bard. [color=BDB76B][b]“Tilda, is it? Of Ullmer?”[/b][/color] He looked her up and down, glancing at her lute, and then he smiled. [color=BDB76B][b]“I’ve heard you do not sing of heroes.”[/b][/color] His voice warmed. [color=BDB76B][b]“And it is just as well, for I have seen precious few in my lifetime.”[/b][/color] He shook his head. [color=BDB76B][b]“Better to sing of the shrewd businessmen who keep this country running, of the gatherings that give it light and life, of the fine hearty peasants who are salt of its earth. These are my thoughts and, I hope, yours."[/b][/color] He paused and nodded. [color=BDB76B][b]"Yet, I have heard that you have some martial skill to you. If this is true, then we may speak at length in the coming hours, for there is a task for which your king needs you and may compensate you handsomely.”[/b][/color] [color=BDB76B][b]“All three of you may now address me,”[/b][/color] he declared, after a moment of silence had passed. [color=BDB76B][b]“State your cases, demonstrate your skill, and pledge your allegiance. Then I shall tell you what you are here for in earnest and provide for your travel.”[/b][/color] Frida had opened her mouth to call out to one of the robed men who fluttered about the throne room, but then the king’s guards barred her way once more. One of those very same men caught their eyes, shook his head, and the merchant was escorted out. [color=f7976a][b]“Tomorrow, ma’am,”[/b][/color] said a guard brusquely. On the one hand, Frida was incensed. On the other, she had waited two years. What was one more day?[/color] [hider=Action Opportunities]For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following: 1) Share some background about what led you here, to King Otto's court. Are you here of your own free will, was your arm twisted into it, or did you not have a choice? 2) What do you see, hear, think, and feel? Lindermetz is a small but increasingly rich kingdom due to trade, and much of this is with the north. Old ways are still evident, but are fast fading. 3) Obviously, respond to the king's prompt. Spoiler: one way or another, this is your parachute into the story. You can take him up on his offer and you will be there for the start of the campaign at Relouse. Otherwise, you're kind of on your own and will have to write your way solo towards the other characters. 4) If you don't wish to be on the side of Parrence immediately, you can always betray Otto's trust. There will be some later consequences for this, of course, but if you go with the Eskandr, is he really going to be able to take his revenge on you while you're in the middle of an army of thousands of frickin' vikings? 5) If you choose to act in good faith upon his offer, you will move up in his trust and esteem. You will be at Relouse to deliver his message to Arcel that he will keep faith with Parrence but that he has to see to his own defense and cannot send much more than a token force. These will arrive a little bit later inn the story and include some... very interesting people. 6) For those who journey to Relouse, you will be there for the Parrench king's speech and may choose to participate in the conflict if you wish.[/hider] [hr][hr][center][sub][url=https://www.artstation.com/artwork/nQXQgK]Art by Florian Desaunay[/url][/sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/nSoIOf9.jpg?1[/img][/center] [hr][hr][h3][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGYsq7cbVZA][color=39b54a]𝅘𝅥𝅮 [/color][/url][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qTghUgMOeY][color=39b54a]𝅘𝅥𝅮 [/color][/url][color=39b54a]Relouse, Royaume de Parrence: The Present[/color][/h3] [hr][hr] [hider=One Week Previous: The Yasoi Lady]“Talit. Yrash. Osmax.” Arcel threw his arms out and swept her off her foot. “Haha! You little shit, how I’ve missed you!” He swung her around as if she were a doll and Tali relaxed into the swing, just like she did when traveling by chainline through the forest. For a moment, she squeezed the Parrench king back, putting every bit of feeling from a year's worth of separation into it. He was big and warm, like he’d always been, but somehow even bigger than before. “Hey Arcel,” she teased, “Did you miss…” She pressed the back of her hand against the base of his neck. “This!” He visibly flinched and flung her away. With the help of force magic and some natural yasoi nimbleness, she landed gracefully in a crouch before springing up. “How are your hands so cold?” her childhood friend cried, rubbing at the back of his neck. “How have they always been so cold. You’re using magic, aren’t you.” Taking a few steps forward, Tali shook her head. “Just born that way, or you’re a wussy king.” “Cold hands,” he retorted, “cold heart.” She let out an appreciative sniff of laughter and smiled, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. “So,” she began, gesturing with her chin towards the great table in front of them. “This is the big kid game, huh?” Arcel’s expression turned serious and he nodded, glancing down at the enormous map that covered most of it. Wooden models of soldiers, cities, cavalry, magery, and strongholds dotted its surface. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and furrowed his brow. “This is it. Hrothgar’s making his move and the Drudgunzeans are suddenly very quiet.” “Never trust a Drudgunzean,” Talit replied, setting her crutch-canes against the table. “Oldest rule in the book.” She rested her stump on the tabletop and leaned forward, shaking her head. “It would appear that way,” the king admitted, “but they’ve also plowed through any Drudgunzean lands that didn’t allow them free passage, so there has to be some tension there too: tension that we can exploit.” The yasoi’s eyes scanned the scenario in front of her. A couple of costly childhood bobbles aside, she’d always had a good grasp of tactics, but she could not match Arcel’s strategic acumen. “How do you propose we do it?” she asked, looking up. He pursed his lips pensively before replying. “Truth is, we don’t know how bad it is. Still got people putting together a picture, seeing how deep the resentment runs.” He faced her. “We need more spies: ones they won’t suspect of being Parrench.” “Yasoi,” she stated simply, turning and meeting his gaze with arms crossed. “They’d be ideal,” he admitted. “I’ll go,” she offered, making her preferred course of action known in no uncertain terms, “and I’ll find people.” “Tali, you can’t.” He shook his head with an implacable kind of regret, his eyes flicking ever so briefly to the empty side of her skirts. “Is it this cursed thing?” she said, raising her stump momentarily, and he nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re just too distinctive and people know that you’re with me.” She worked her jaw back and forth for a moment, annoyed, and shrugged, closing it. “I could just blast my way in,” she offered, only half-joking. He smiled sadly and shook his head again. Tali sighed. “I’ll find you people,” she promised, “but I can’t just sit around a table with a bunch of old human guys, Arce. I’ll go nuts.” She turned back to face it, posting her hands on its surface. Her fingers drummed nervously, careful not to disturb any of the models. She glanced over at him in expectation. “Well, for starters,” he began, “I need to know what’s going on in Loriindton and your people’s other holdings.” “I’m not baroness,” she reminded him. “I don’t know everything.” “You’re [i]you[/i],” he countered, with a hint of a snort. “You know enough. Can I expect any support? Is my rear flank secure?” She thought for a moment, rocking back and forth on the ball of her foot, though she was already nearly certain of her answer. It would do well for Arcel not to take her people’s cooperation for granted. Much as she loved him, he was not her king and her people were not his subjects unless they chose to be. Humans were ever putting up borders, rules, and imposed expectations. “You’ve nothing to worry about from us.” She shook her head and offered a brief, reassuring smile. “But I don’t think many yasoi are keen to go and die in a human war, and the Eskandr have…” She considered the recent attack of a treasure convoy on its way to a Mette’stiroi in Vixandijiil and the anger it had caused. Not enough, she knew. “Mostly avoided attacking us,” she decided. “They know better.” “I see,” the king said, his voice growing pensive, fingers rubbing at his chin. “What are you so busy pensively stroking? You don’t have a beard, babyface.” “More beard than you.” “Oh, you like bearded ladies,” she shot back, “do you?” “Only when they’re you,” he teased, and it brought about a rueful snort of laughter from the yasoi. She shook her head. “I really thought it would just go away.” “Essence and Blood magics, was it?” She nodded. “On a dare.” “And it kept trying to grow back for…” “Six months,” she squeaked, “before I figured out the hormones.” “Made you look like a leader, Hopper.” “More of a leader than you, beardless.” She stroked her chin. “Maybe I should regrow it.” “Please don’t.” He shook his head. Their eyes met and each smiled. “Anyhow.” Arcel let out a breath and it was back to business. “I had hoped our peoples could make common cause. You don’t think it’s likely?” Tali shrugged. “Who’s to say with yasoi. I’m even-keeled these days by our standards.” “And I’m excitable.” “Truly, that’s how I’ve had to skew,” she insisted, shaking her head. Idly, she kicked at the table’s edge with her stump. She had to stop her fingers from fussing with the map. “Anyways, in perfect candor, I have neither the power nor the desire to compel them to ally. If the Eskandr keep going as they are…” She trailed off and shrugged. “We’ll see what the future holds. For now,” she assured him, “you have [i]me[/i].” He nodded, meeting her gaze for a moment. “Thanks, Talit.” “None required.” And then there was a moment where the two of them just stood there: a grown man and a grown woman who had known each other as children, alone in a large tent. There was a map to keep their eyes on, but the conversation had ended. Tali was just reaching for her crutch-canes and opening her mouth to assure the king that she would get to work, when there was a flutter of heavy fabric and the queen brushed inside. “Your highness.” The yasoi bowed her head respectfully. “Tali,” nodded Eleanor. "Nice to see you." “Love,” said Arcel, and the woman who had stolen him from Tali strode up to him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “As requested, the lords of Chamonix and Tourrare await your audience.” “You shall entertain their wives?” “That I shall, dear.” She winked. “Leave them to me.” “Echeran spare them.” She punched him on the shoulder while Tali stood there, trying not to watch but not wanting to be rude and outright avert her gaze. She’d learned that such things mattered to humans. She cleared her throat. “Gods, Tali, I’m sorry.” Eleanor turned to face her. “Would you like to join us or has my dear husband given you some other impossible task?” She scowled playfully at Arcel. “I don’t give impossible tasks,” he protested. “Merely… very difficult ones.” “Nothing is impossible,” replied the yasoi. “Your highness.” She bowed to the king. “Your highness,” she bowed to the queen, already backing away. Moments later, Talit’yrash’osmax found herself outside, amid the bustle of a vast army camp. Brightly coloured tents stretched out across the plain, their fabrics fluttering in a stiff breeze. Soldiers, craftsmen, and aides-de-camp milled about, seeing to one task or another or else doing what Tali found herself so often in the service of these days: looking busy. Underfoot, the ground was already more dirt than grass, but at least they had been spared rain and it was not a quagmire. To the north rose a forest - a place that some deep instinct in the yasoi automatically looked upon as home - and, at its edge lay the stables where her horse - Pishcar, or 'Shaggy' in human tongues - was kept. People made way for her as she walked, distinctive sight that she was but, more than once, her path had to skew around some organized chaos of the camp. It was a log being hauled in from the forest for a catapult, a cart with soup and wooden bowls passing through, and the arrival of some lord from Solenne. Tali nodded but did not bow to him. By human reckoning, they were social equals. Then, she was through it and looking back. In the distance, past herds of sheep and goats that supplied the army, the grey stone walls of Relouse rose from the windswept green plains. Beyond them still was the sea and its bountiful stormy promise.[/hider] [hider=Two Days Previous: Regina Viridi Terras] Eleanor made her way about the camp, diligent as always, Queen of the Parrench always. Knights and soldiers doffed their hats in her presence, and she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. As a girl growing up in Viennes, she’d never dreamed of anything like this. So vast was the Parrench army that it covered the entire plain, right up to the gates of Relouse, a monastery town that had been of little note until around the time she had been born. That they would finally stand up to the Eskandr with more than just words and offerings both frightened the young queen and appealed to something deep inside of her. Some people could not be reasoned with, bargained with, or bought. They would always be savage and inclined to warfare and raiding. They would always covet the rich farmlands and forests of her homeland for themselves, and so she would fight them. Arcel would fight them. Every man and woman in their country capable of doing so would fight with every fiber of his or her being, for such were the Parrench. Theirs was the proud heritage of the great empire and they would not bow meekly to outsiders any longer And so it was that a mighty war machine, like none seen since the days that the legions of Avince had marched across this land, would be built. So it was that the Grand Armee, drawn from a thousand fiefs across the kingdom, armed and armoured by a thousand blacksmiths, would sally forth in its multitudes and crush those barbarians. They would rain fire and death upon the Eskandr so that Green Parrence might prosper ever more and be a light to the peoples of this continent as had been the empire once, long ago.[/hider] [color=32CD32]It pained Arcel, deep in his chest, in the place that he would show to no others but dearest Eleanor and faithful Talit, what circumstances had forced upon him. Yet, he would not flinch from his duty as king. For many years, the Eskandr and, occasionally, Drudgunzeans had harried his land and killed the people who Orpahe had charged him with protecting. Myriad had been the alliances, treaties, and shifts in power that had characterized the past two centuries. The Parrench were a peaceful folk by nature, and would that he could rule them as a peaceful king, but it was not in the offing. For as long as the Parrench kingdoms, duchies, and counties had stood on their own uncertain feet, Skandergeld had flown from their coffers into those of the [i]paiens[/i]. They had sent priests to live and work among the Southern peoples and spread the light and salvation of the Quentic faith. At great cost, they had sent south great works of art and culture, finest silks and spices, truthful good will. Yet, still, the barbarians raided. Still, they menaced monasteries, convents, and villages. They remained intractable. First, the Eskandr had murdered their kings when these had seen the light. That had brought the new kingdom to the brink of war with them but, then, they had savagely killed the holy men who had embraced them as brothers in a bloody pagan ritual. It was plain that there was no peace to be had now, and Parrence stood as a bulwark. If it was to be war, Arcel had decided, then he would hit them with the unified might of Parrence: greatest of northern nations and heir to the traditions and steel of empire. The Drudgunzeans would join him in the light and hope of Ipté, Chune and Oraphe or else be crushed under the boots and hammer of Echeran and Dami. Heartily, as he knelt down beside his wife each night, he prayed for it.[/color] [color=228B22]Now, they prayed not alone, however. The fifty-five banners of the Parrench people snapped and fluttered in the stiff maritime breeze. On the very rock where Sainte Defrois had invoked the power of Echeran and slain the Dawn Wyvern those many years ago - the stone still stained with its black blood - King Arcel stood before the Grand Armée. To one side stood his beloved, Eleanor. To the other was the newly-elevated Archbishop of Relouse. The King knelt and kissed the holy man’s hand. Beside him knelt the Queen. [color=8882be][b]“Father,”[/b][/color] they said as one, [color=8882be][b]“I ask you for the blessing of the most holy Pentad.”[/b][/color] Monks rang their handheld bells and the smell of incense drifted on the wind. The archbishop spread his arms and addressed all of those present. [color=00a99d][b]“Ipté, Chune, Oraphe, Echeran, and Dami bless all those who would embrace them. The blessing is yours if you will speak the words.”[/b][/color] [color=00aeef][b]“I shall,”[/b][/color] answered the king. [color=f49ac2][b]“I shall,”[/b][/color] replied the queen. [color=00a99d][b]“Then let us pray,”[/b][/color] said the holy man reverently. They gathered beneath the grey walls on the bright green grass beneath the clear blue sky and they prayed. Some, with greater fervour than others, but pray they all did. Thousands made the sign of the Pentad. [color=9ACD32][b]“Lover, Learner, Creator, Destroyer, Judge,”[/b][/color] they began. [color=9ACD32][b]“All magics and all of creation pay homage to the divine Pentad who brought them into being. Thy existence is beyond human understanding, thy ways both arcane and divine, and thy gifts the foundations of life itself. May thy will be done now and forever.”[/b][/color][/color] [color=008000][color=00a99d][b]“Amen,”[/b][/color] declared the archbishop, his robes flapping in the wind, his aged face serene. Arcel stood, and Eleanor a moment later. The former placed a hand upon the holy man’s shoulder and thanked him quietly. He stepped to the edge of the promontory. [color=00aeef][b]“Today,”[/b][/color] he announced, [color=00aeef][b]“we set out upon the holy endeavour most blessed by Echeran: that of war!”[/b][/color] His voice carried across the plain, raised to the ears of those gathered through the work of the Gift. [color=00aeef][b]“It is a grim business that we have set ourselves to but, as you are all here, I am satisfied that each of you know how it has now become a necessary one: an [i]inevitable[/i] one.”[/b][/color] He bowed his head momentarily. [color=00aeef][b]“Look around you, now, at the brave men and women who stand upon this sacred ground where Sainte Defrois once slew the Dawn Wyvern that so menaced this country. You do not stand alone. Nor do you stand as Tourrares, Legalles, Vitrouennes, Chambroix, or Servignans! You stand, today, the fifty-five nations of Parrennce: a fighting force blessed by the five gods, a fighting force such as this world has never laid eyes upon!”[/b][/color] Arcel’s heart was pounding with the emotion of the moment. This was history being made. It would be retold for many hundreds of years and, for a flicker of time, the pressure of it chipped away at the edge of his resolve. [color=00aeef][b]“You know well the danger,”[/b][/color] he proclaimed, pacing now. [color=00aeef][b]“Some of us will be called to the five heavens, to live in the grace and peace of the Pentad, far from these mortal concerns. That is an outcome that we were all aware of when we heeded the call to come to this place. You know well the enemy,”[/b][/color] he continued, pausing and facing the army. [color=00aeef][b]“Their deeds go before them: their prowess in battle, their unholy, barbaric, and murderous ways!”[/b][/color] Eleanor stood to the side, hands knitted in front of her, expression resolved and serene as she gazed out across the crowd: the nobles in front and the hommes-de-roi, the petty knights behind, and the soldiers behind them still. The king continued. [color=00aeef][b]“Yet, I tell you this, people of my nation: do not let doubt stay your action this day, for I have met them on the battlefield. I have crossed steel with their steel, and we are every bit their equal. Now, with our peoples combined and the Gods to lend us strength, I tell you further: by Chune’s light, by Echeran’s sword we shall carry the day!”[/b][/color] He drew his greatsword from its scabbard and thrust it into the air. [color=00aeef][b]“Vive la Parrence!!!”[/b][/color] A sea of burnished steel glowing under the stresian sun, fifty thousand weapons rose. The five tribes and fifty-five nations of Parrence roared, then, their voices a fearsome cry echoing off the old stone walls of Relouse. When the volume had died down somewhat, the king raised a hand. [color=00aeef][b]“Now, once more, brothers and sisters in arms and in faith, let us raise our voices in prayer!”[/b][/color] He collapsed to his knees, locks of golden hair spilling over his crown.[/color] [color=006400][color=00aeef][b]“Oh heavenly Pentad,”[/b][/color] he proclaimed, [color=00aeef][b]“who hath crafted the heavens, the sea, and the earth beneath our feet, who hath brought life, love, learning, and laughter to us, who destroy so that we may be renewed, who give us choice, magic, and freedom, we beg this of thee:”[/b][/color] [color=f49ac2][b]“First,”[/b][/color] said Eleanor, kneeling beside him, [color=f49ac2][b]“Of Ipté we beg love for our brothers and sisters in this nation and those under your protection, that we might always remember what we are fighting for and why it is worth so very much.”[/b][/color] [color=00aeef][b]“Second,”[/b][/color] said the king, [color=00aeef][b]“of Chune we beg wisdom and keenness of mind, that we may outwit and outplay the enemy, that we might recognize dangers and opportunities more fully, that we might be strong in our tactics and our strategies.”[/b][/color] [color=f49ac2][b]“Of Oraphe,”[/b][/color] said the queen, her breastplate shimmering in the sun, [color=f49ac2][b]“we humbly ask for light, life, and good health to our bodies and minds, that we may fight with vigour and bring the light of a lasting peace to this land once all is said and done.”[/b][/color] [color=00aeef][b]“Of Echeran, we ask for the blessings of war,”[/b][/color] Arcel declared. [color=00aeef][b]“We ask for courage and strength in battle. We ask that our restraint be removed, that mercy not stay our hand when facing the enemy, that we should move across the field like a great scythe among the chaff.”[/b][/color] [color=f49ac2][b]“Finally, we beg sound judgement of Dami,”[/b][/color] concluded the queen, [color=f49ac2][b]“that we will exercise it at all times and that it will serve us well. We humbly pray that he will look with favour upon our actions here today, and for evermore.”[/b][/color] The king bowed his head. The queen followed. [color=00aeef][b]“This we pray,”[/b][/color] declared the former. [color=f49ac2][b]“Amen,”[/b][/color] finished the latter. They made the sign of the Pentad and rose to their feet. In the distance, beyond the town, the fields, and the rough, stony seawall that tumbled towards the water lay Cape Redame. Sometime soon, all of those gathered knew, in perhaps only a handful of hours, the thousand longships of a Great Heathen Army would round its headland. From the deep, cloudy waters of the Océan Venteux, the Eskandr would make their landfall on the beach just there. The soldiers of the Grand Armée would meet them and they would fight: the first battle of many for the survival of Parrence.[/color] [hider=Action Opportunities]For help with writing, here is a brief rundown of what comes next. Feel to engage with any number of these following: 1) What were you doing before this? How did you come to be here? What are your motivations and how does this make you feel? 2) Feel free to interact with other characters. If you have an established relationship with any of them, it might be a good time to interact. What was camp life like? 3) Any yasoi present have likely been recruited by Lady Talit. She or one of her friends/agents would've probably appeared out of nowhere (she's good at that) and offered you the chance at adventure, advancement in Parrench eyes, and plunder. 4) What goes through your mind and body in the immediate preparation for battle? How about the king's speech and prayer? 5) Are you part of any scout or expeditionary force racing off to Cap Redame to harry the Eskandr longships? You may write up to the point of first contact and attack. Be ready for a quick mini-cycle if you do this, though. We'll have to play that interaction out quickly before the main engagement. No writing decisive outcomes that affect other (enemy) Player Characters, though. 6) For everyone else, you'll be mounting the defence of Relouse on the beach, trying to prevent the Eskandr making a successful landing and, failing that, keep the walled town from falling. Feel free to employ any skills that you have to set traps, prepare the battlefield, etc. [/hider] [hr][hr]