Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Serpentine88
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Serpentine88 Writer of Overly Long Character Sheets

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The Grey Road, West Ironmarch, 17th Heroic Age (17HA:13)
Arc 1: Without Faith - I



The dreary fog, drenched mud, drenched paved stone and merciless rain of yet another Ironmarch morning was all that signified the arrival of men from the old western “Crusaders” road to Ironmarch, welcoming all those from the west to the new reality of the borderlands. The milestones had since been eroded away, and the signs destroyed. Skeletons of dead animals and occasionally a human being now acted as landmarks to determine distance.

Beside the road was a single barred wagon, holding within a band of chained, weathered and broken prisoners. A Single woman sat within, in the corner silently glaring upon the floor, dirty face obscured by filthy tangled dark hair. The voices were still speaking. She still heard the voices. The darkness whispers. She was an astralomancer, trained and though young, experienced, now imprisoned.

The voices. She heard voices. They came to her, they whispered and whispered. She was a magi, a herbalist and a camp follower of numerous crusaders.

Dreams, she saw dreams half remembered, growing in clarity every cycle of the sun and moon. She had fought and helped fight for too long.

Darkness, it had taken her, and there was no hope.

“I submit to thy saviour O’Justice” a fellow prisoner begun mumbling, calling for Justinian’s salvation.

“Without thy will I become dust” Another spoke.

“Without thy strength I shalt fall” Yet another spoke, with almost fanatical zeal.

“Without thy faith, I am lost” The women finished the prayer, dejected and empty. The whispers grated at her mind. Creeping along her skull.

“I am lost!” An old man on the opposite side of the wagon screamed.

“Lost! Lost lost lost, lost, lost-lost-lost-lost---“The old man yelled hysterically, bashing his head against the bars, forcing the exhausted and half asleep guard outside awake.

“SILENCE!” the guard shouted, bashing an axe against the wagons bars. The inhabitants of the wagon went silent or returned to quiet mumbling. The woman however glared at the guard, her bloodshot eyes filled with silent madness. If it were not for the mages defending the wagon and the whispers that ate at her mind, she would have easy killed the foolish man and left.

The guard, now sensing his imminent demise quickly withdrew, quietly walking back towards the camp. He moved to speak with the mages sitting by the smouldering and near dead fire, however before he could speak excuses to swap the guard early, the mages suddenly all stood with sudden alarm.

“Up! Everyone up!” One yelled, just as a loud horn blew in the distance. The horn had done more work waking the camp than the man yelling, and dozens of soldiers were rushing forward. The prisoners had also become alert, many of them shouting gibberish and clawing their hands through the bars.

Two horsemen appeared, galloping down the road from the direction they had come. Two mounted sergeant acting outriders, one caring a flag.

It was yet another crusader flag, the other, a courier, bearing word from yet another crusader army coming to die in the Sacrilege War. The soldiers and mages had stood in a line, the group’s leader walking up before the courier. What the two said was too faint for the woman to hear over the rambling nonsense of the other prisoners; however whatever happened caused the two to nod and the courier and flag-bearer left back the way they had come.

About twenty minutes later, the crusade arrived. A retinue of fifty knights escorting a collection of warrior-vicars, lords and a crusader-general trotted down the road on horseback, bringing forth a constant line of marching spear sergeants, crossbowmen and more knights both mounted and on foot. The Sacrosanct banners and flags were not waving in the stagnate air, but there were so many of them it still turned to column into looking part fabric.

The wagon was to follow the crusade further east to Grimgaunt Citadel, this miserable lands functioning capital. The women knew she would be executed there; this thought alone increased the throbbing noises, the whispers growing in intensity. She called on her magic, but the whispers ate at it, they sapped her power.

“Onward, soldiers of the ordered god! Onward to salvation!” the shouts of a warrior-vicar echoed down the road, inspiring a wild cheer from the column of men in response. The servants of the Ordered God, like all other mortals bound by blind faith and zeal marched eagerly to certain doom, unaware and willingly ignorant of the truth of this war.

“I am lost” the women mumbled blankly to herself.

It could not be won.


Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Monkeypants
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The Covenant
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-=The Forlorn Bastion=-



Far past the Covenants eastern borders, past the eastern mountains is the Ironmarch. Once part of a mighty, prosperous nation that had a history rich in deeds and grand ideals, is nearing an end. The darkest forces to ever see this world yet had rushed across the land with a vicious hunger for the souls of men and women alike.

They say no one escapes the darkness...

"That damned orc.. why is he allowed to go in to the pantry?"... "You know, I've asked myself that same question." All one could hear is the sound of precious food disappearing.... angrily. Rintel walked down a long hallway towards the mess hall, it was meal time.. again.. just like the day before.... and the day before. "This place is so boring." he said aloud before giving a deep sigh. A piercing womans voice broke his depression, "Don't be such a pansy. we are here for an important reason. Do you really think Ironmarch can withstand another incursion by the darkness?"

"You know, you always find a way to make this dark place feel.... darker, Ralana.". Ralana gave a slight smirk, "Happy to see you too." As the two walked in to the mess hall area. Rintel rose his head just a bit gave two audible sniffs, "Yomag is in the pantry.. I can smell it.".Ralana gave a very short reply, "Great." and started walking towards one of the tables while Rintel walked towards the pantry. An simple hour passed before the meals were done and as soldiers left the hall, Yomag, Rintel, and Ralana made their way towards the eastern wall. The three stood there in silence, staring out towards the blackened lands that was home to the darkness. Ralana broke the silence but it didn't make it any better, "Something just... feels off." Yomag gave a slight growl and turned away. Rintel looked at Yomag as he walked back towards the keep itself.

"What's wrong with Yomag?" he asked. A couple soldiers along the wall started pointing out towards the abyss. "Did you see that?!" Rintel sprung in to action, darting down the battlement with the speed only a highly trained ranger could possess. He stopped in a perfect pose, immediately drawing his bow with an arrow at the ready. The soldiers were stunned but quick to recover, "I thought I saw something moving out there." Rintel sharpened his gaze and scanned the area ahead.. it was dark and muddy from a sprinkle during the day. Ralana had finally caught up and started peering over the battlements as well. Rintel focused more so and spoke under his breath, "where... are... there you are." he said and as if he shot a bolt of lightning, an arrow impaled a small rabbit. "See? just a rabbit." The Guard just sighed a bit then stood back a bit. "Sorry to alarm." he said. Ralana smiled at him, "It's ok.. I am pleased you were alert, especially to see a small creature like that, so far away." Meanwhile, Yomag was staring from a second story window.. he could see his two companions along the wall talking to the guards but he wasn't convinced that a small creature was the culprit.. Something just didn't sit right with him.

The next morning, the captain of the keep was walking the walls, doing his routine inspection when the ground seemed to rumble ever so slightly. "What in the world was that..". He turned he looked around to see soldiers looking around puzzled. "Do not worry men, there is nothing on the horizon, no reason to worry!" some long time soldiers who had served under the captain raised an eye brow. The captain was never one to shrug anything off, hence why he got command of the castle... As the captain walked off one of the lieutenants walked by and gave a stern look. "Send a rider anyway.. our supply shipment is a day late." The sun then set... and rose... and set... then rose once more before concern started to cross the soldiers minds. There was still enough food stockpile -even considering the orcs hunger- to last about a week but it wasn't right for a caravan to be late like this. As Rintel walked around the castle, he heard various soldiers talking. "Maybe a wheel fell off?" "But where is the rider?" "Maybe they got lost? that happens, right?" All this uncertainty was starting to wear Rintel down.

Later that night, he tossed and turned in his bed until waking in a cold sweat. "We have to find out what happened." he said, now breathing heavily. He went to Yomags bed only to find him missing. "Great." Rintel murmured but before he could turn, he could feel cold steel pressing gently on the back of his neck. The orc sounded worried, "Rintel.. is that you?" Rintel slowly leaned his head forward, off of the blade and turned slowly. "What is going on Yomag. People are acting strange." Yomag looked around and gave a huff, "I am not sure, I am hoping its the extended time this garrison has been posted here. No word from the commanders, no word from anyone's families.. couriers leave but rarely return. Maybe there is a bandit camp?" The orc, though wise, still couldn't foresee what was happening.

Rintel backed up a bit more as Yomag slowly lowered his sword. "Rintel, I saw a soldier walking towards the east with his hands out.. he was stumbling as if he was blinded. I went out to grab him and brought him back inside. When he awoke, he didn't remember anything." Rintel looked puzzled and looked around. "Maybe a check on the garrison would be wise?" Minutes later the two had separated and started walking the battlements. They told the soldiers they were doing good and their stalwart watch is the only protection that nearby villages have. It was a small boost in morale as many had grown to trust the three warriors with back stories full of glorious deeds.

As the sun rose, Yomag finally laid down. Rintel couldn't sleep though. Ralana approached him, "I could see you and Yomag last night wondering about. Go take a horse and find out what happened to our shipment." He smirked a bit, "Any chance for a little sugar before I go?" As he spoke the last word, the palm of her hand contacted with his cheek. "Even with everything going on, you are still horning for anything female." He smiled once more and gave a wink, "Not -anything-" and promptly walked by her, as close as he could before walking towards the stables. All she could say, "Pig." but then paused as she saw him mount the horse, she said under her breath, "But be careful."

Rintel rode carefully on the road towards the nearest village. As he arrived, he saw the typical country life, children playing with any thing that could pique their imagination with the adults looking on wishing that they still had an imagination. He finally felt a little comfort and began riding further down the road, confident that there must have been some sort of mix up, maybe bandits came along or something. But when he arrived at the carriage, "what the fuck... happened here." He said aloud while dismounting. The Carriage was on its side with some bodies inside. Some looked partially eaten, "Wolves?" he though while drawing his sword. As he stood up he could see a hand laying on the ground. As he approached the severed hand, he saw the victim, a bandit.

"Bastards." he said, "Damn pricks!" he then said louder. As he shouted, birds flew from the trees around him. "wait." he said and then leaned down. As he examined the body, he saw another one, one of the caravan guards. Both had wounds that he had never seen the likes of and from their positioning, they died fighting side by side. "What in the world." At that point, two more riders came from the castle, meeting with him. "What are you doing here?" Rintel asked. "Sir, Lady Ralana sent us to help you. the captain protested but she sounded worried." Rintel smiled, "I knew she wanted some of thi-" A blur jumped from a tree to another. He drew his bow with lightning speed and his gaze sharpened. He could see a pawed hand covered in blood.

"There you are." and with unbelievable precision, the creatures leg was hit and it came crashing down. Rintel ran to it, The thing hissed and clawed towards Rintel as he held the tip of his sword to the creatures neck. "You're a long way from home, Razaji." Rintel sized him up, a male wearing nothing but torn sack like pants. "Did you get your fill?" rintel asked. He then pointed to the destroyed caravan and rose his voice. "Did you do this? where are your friends?" The Razaji just laid there and then started to cry, "You haven't seen what I have seen!!! it came! i tried to help!! it killed.. it KILLED!" he said. "What killed?" Rintel posed. "I don't know, but it was fast! so fast.. so faast.. killed.. screams.. I.. I can't.." Rintel motioned for the soldiers to lower their swords and with that the beast stood up and with a very calm demeanor, very different from a minute ago, "Go, save yourselves." and took off towards a tree where he then climbed it, eventually disappearing in to the forest.

"The fuck?"

The three walked back to the caravan and luckily it was still functional. They pushed the cart back on its side and hooked it up to the horses. Behind was two more carts which they hooked up in to one long wagon train and started off towards the castle. They had planned to stop at the village to share some supplies but upon arriving, there was no one there. "All right." Rintel said, clearly frustrated. "This is getting damned old.", clearly referring to the strange happenings now. Rintel dismounted and told the other two to stay put. Rintel then moved towards a small inn and upon entering, a familiar face was sitting at a stool. "I told you to go save yourselves. This village listened, why wont you?" the Razaji said.

Rintel looked around to see plates with fresh food, chairs looked like they were gently pushed out, showing signs of ordered movement. "You should go home, Rintel." the Razaji said.. Rintel turned and clinched his fist, "No one ever mentioned my name. How do you know it." The Razaji stood up. "I've been watching for a while now, saw the rabbit you killed. Supposed to be my kill." Rintel thought about it, the soldiers wouldn't have been scared of a small rustle in the brush. "Fine, You have my trust. Who are you?" "My name?.. my.. name. Do not concern yourself with my name. Take your caravan and head to your castle. They will grow hungry soon without those supplies. no?" Rintel gave the cat a nod and turned around to walk out. After taking a few steps he paused to ask the Razaji who had killed the caravan but when he turned, no one was there. No trace..

The thee soldiers were quiet through the entire ride home and as they arrived at the castle, they heard gentle applause. It was a while before some good news had arrived. Letters from families, a replenished food supplies and even some quality weaponry. Yomag walked up to Rintel and pulled him aside. "Come with me." The two started walking towards the castle tower and arrived at the captains quarters. "He wants to see you." Yomag said while opening the door. Rintels first view was of Ralana looking up at a body that was hanging lifeless from the ceiling. Yomag just walked in and tapped the hanging body. "We found him hanging hear an hour ago. Strange markings carved in to his arms... with his fingernails." Rintel stood back, "Does anyone else know?". Ralana spoke up, "Only us three and the lieutenant. He is going to address the men any minute. Going to lie and say the captain fled due to madness." Yomag shook his hand. "It's not really a lie.. he fled all right."

As the night went on, the three could only stand at the battlements, staring off towards the east. Something just wasn't right and that Razaji was plaguing Rintels mind.

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-=An epic ride=-



An explosion rocked the Ararllian city of Mosian. Fires billowed from collapsed structures and the screams of Jestua could be heard for miles. Kadian soldiers rushed in to the city, brandishing swords and began slaughtering the men and women fleeing for their lives. The children were saved, of course. "Destroy it all!" a maniacal voice screamed. Laughter could be heard as cannon fire erupted once more, destroying holy places and eventually what would look like a broadside barrage of cannon balls slammed into the Capitol building of the now falling empire.

"Keep pushing men! push!!! do not stop until this nation is destroyed!!" The voice shouted. Behind him, the great avatar of Justinian Magnus drug three chains through the forests.. on these chains were the three dead Ararllian gods.. smitten with extreme prejudice. Their bodies laid out as a fisherman would do to a pitiful catch. Justinian gave a nod to the voice and as that voice grew in to laughter, a face became visible.

A man in his 40's with a cap resembling a top hat smiled from what seemed to be ear to ear as the sound of clanking steel started to deafen out his laughs. As the view panned out, he was seen standing upon the deck of a cruiser with the guns firing and troops firing Scipos on the top deck in to the city. As the image panned out further to reveal the cruiser smashing through the walls of a fortified building. Massive Spiked steel wheels crushed everything in its path.. the guns did a full broadside, destroying an entire company of fleeing soldiers while below Kadian troops rose the banner over what was left of the Ararllian capitol.. The man on the deck extended his arms and leaned his head back. "I am the conquered!" he proclaimed and from behind him, Hadrian himself bowed. "I believe you've earned the throne.. my lord."

The man closed his eyes and could feel the wind blow over his body, fire lit the background as even more of these wheeled warships were firing in the distance... another, younger voice seemed to echo through the world, "hey!" "HEY!" The man shook his head to see.... that this epic fantasy was a mere fiction, a pleasant one at least. "You bastard!" the man said, "But but, you told me to wake you in an hour!".. "Damn it, I did.."

The younger man handed the older man a bowl of some sort of food, "Here you are Mr Karstum." he said. "Thank you Pawpo.. I had a grand dream... and with it came an idea." The young man, Pawpo cocked his head. "Another dream?" he frowned a bit, "I didn't like the horse drawn catapult too much." Karstum stood up, tossing the now empty bowl to the floor. Pawpo reached out as if to catch the bowl but just sighed. "That was my favorite horse that you used.."

Karstum smiled and walked to Pawpo, eventually laying his hand on the young mans shoulder. "The horse was old anyway." and then he moved past him and out to a field. This field had giant ruts in the ground, cannons both fixed and on wheeled carriages... Scipos.. odd shaped swords and a huge crossbow mounted on a wood pole. "The idea.. We need a carriage!" Pawpo frowned.. knowing this was going to get worse.

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Wedding collaboration presented by Monkeypants and DAWNSTAR.
-=A Bright Future=-

As the sun rose in the land of Ma' Hurcazak, distant black sails appeared on the horizon. These black ships of the Kadian navy sped towards the quiet city of Hizeram. From the lead black ship, Alma stood on the deck, looking at the green country ahead. She held her hand over her heart.. It was beating very fast as she was nervous but this feeling was deserved for it was a day of high significance, her wedding day. She could feel the gentle breeze from the wind that carried her towards her destination.

The water became choppy though and the vessel rose up on a wave and then came crashing back down, sending gallons of water on to the deck. Common among all ships but new to her and as she stood there, now soaking wet and standing in a puddle of water, marines ran to her aid. "My lady, perhaps it would be best to stay below deck?" one said. She replied, obviously upset, "Yeah, that'd be best." She turned abruptly and walked towards the middle of the ship where a door to the inside was located. Before she could make it, a puddle at her feet was deeper than she had anticipated and upon walking through it, she fell on her rear.

"My lady!" the marine said as he walked to her. She stood up and tried to brush herself off but all she succeeded in doing was making her dress worse off. The marine just stood there as she started to laugh. "I was never too fond of this garment to begin with." The marine gave out a pity laugh to ease her mind and with that, she opened the hatch and disappeared into the vessel. It wasn't long before the ship had arrived at the dock.

The morning had arrived and with it the detachment of marines guarding the carriage. Inside was Azakir Jakim, the most liked and well respected man in Ma' Hurcazak. What would a politician have to do with the port of Hizeram? The answer was quite simple, he was there to meet his bride. It had been a long time since they had met and it felt even longer for Azakir than just ten years. His heart raced and his hands were clamy. The chill breeze of the North blew gently through the open window and woke Azakir from his daze. The two other council members, Na'hura and Yignaus, were staring at him in wonder. Azakir was young for his race but he was also getting married to a woman he hadn't seen in years. The discussion that had come up when Azakir announced his marriage was a tense one, yet it was Na'hura and Yignaus who supported him the most.

The three had known each other for years, though on Na'hura's side it was through the correspondences that she sent them. They wanted to meet the young lady who had so easily stolen their friend's heart. "It seems you are worried Aza. If it is because you are reconsidering the marriage then it must be reasoned. But, I see no reason that shows you question the validity of your love. Are you worried that perhaps things have changed in her over the years?" Na'hura said calmly to Azakir. Yignaus and Na'hura knew how much this meant to Azakir, if anything changed he might just have questioned the marriage. But, Azakir was always an optimist and believed that Alma hadn't changed at all.

"No, it is not her love that I question. It is the upcoming debates we have in the Council. We must talk on making Harnians citizens and this might open old wounds. Nobody wants to remind the public of the War." Azakir said as he hid his nervousness. Though he was speaking true to his heart, there was a small part of him that was worried about the marriage. He was not willing to give Alma a wedding he believed was not what she was due. She was willing to wait this long; he knew he must make it worth her time. The carriage came to a halt as a cool breeze smelling of salt and fresh bread wafted through the open window. They had arrived at the docks, it was finally time for Azakir to see the woman he fell in love with so long ago once more.

As the boarding planks lowered, men in leather with interwoven polished steel armor began moving down the ramp. They were covenant holy marines and with perfect and precise movement, they paved a way through the crowd and formed a perfect box for the new arrivals to arrive in to. A younger man with beautiful ornate armor was the first non marine to walk down the ramp. As he made his way down, marines saluted but he never returned one, Upon reaching solid ground, he walked towards the young Azakir and gave a slight bow, "Greetings from the Kadian Covenant, I am Cyrus, a knight from my homeland tasked with bearing a gift of immense value. Welcome her as you would your king, as she should be just as important." He stepped aside, (not giving whom ever he spoke to, a chance to speak.. cause Cyrus is a boss like that) extending his hand towards a robed and hooded figure appearing on the top of the ramp.

The figures large hood masked the face but as the body moved, it swayed at the hips which was a obvious trait of a female. As she reached the base of the ramp, Cyrus moved to her and stood behind her and with a soft tone she said "please". Her voice may have been recognizable after all this time. Cyrus quickly, yet very carefully removed the hood and long robes she had, revealing the young woman, Alma. Her hair shifted in the breeze and her attire, a sleeveless tunic, rippled from the oceans breeze. She looked up, now completely visible, to see him

Azakir's face lit up at the sight of his beloved's face ]which caused Alma to blush. It had been ten years since they had seen each other, something that had Alma on edge every night. Na'hura and Yignaus stood to the back and looked over the young Knight Cyrus. He had a confident air about him and the two were willing to bet that he was more so here to watch Alma rather than Azakir. Azakir wished that he could rush and grab her in his arms but that would not be gentleman like. Azakir walked up to Alma and took her hand. He lightly raised it to his mouth and kissed it. "My lady, it is nice to see you once more after so long. Sorry for such a heavy welcoming party but I would not be willing to take a chance with your safety. We have a carriage waiting for you to take you to the manor outside the city where you can get prepared. But first, let me introduce you to Councilwoman Na'hura and Councilman Yignaus." Azakir said as he walked her over to the two. She was very nervous at this point, constantly looking back to Cyrus for some sort of emotional comfort. She eventually crept around Azakir to present herself to his friends.

"This woman with golden hair is Na'hura Alessie, former Queen of Ma' Hurcazak. And this stout but trustworthy dwarf is Yignaus Akave, inventor of our very own 'clean coal'. They have known me from the rebellion and are great friends of mine. They are some of the few in the Council who support our marriage." Azakir said. Alma turned from her groom to be as Na'hura curtsied and Yignaus kissed Alma's hand. Azakir was still nervous but, when he looked back at the Silver Sea, he was reminded of the the day they met. Even more strange was that it was almost the same breeze as that day, before the revolution when things were in turmoil, before he would be separated from her. That day.. Alma smiled brightly as the ship arrived at the docks.. the city was a lot different back then, smaller? it was so long ago in her memory. A sailor walked to her and extended his hand. "My lady, we have arrived.. lets get this under way."

Hours passed as they offloaded the ship, holy books and cheap clothing was brought fourth. Children and adults alike gathered around and she overheard whispering about the newcomers,. "From another land? how far?", "Are they here to fight?", "Why do they bring clothes?", "I hear they are Justinians." It went on and on. The priest that had accompanied her began to preach to the crowd, some left as he spoke but the ones that stayed were given new and clean clothing. The ones in rags looked the new garments and could only smile and listen to the charity that the Kadians brought. Alma brought out a map and started looking at marks on the map, locations of small settlements around the area. "All right" she said, pointing at the first one. "Lets go--" she paused and looked up to see a young man in the distance. She felt some sort of immediate curiosity towards him, like a spell had been cast over her eyes. Her entourage kept talking but she couldn't hear them anymore, her vision had become a tunnel and he was a light at the end of it.

"Alma!" "ALMA!" rang out in her head and she closed her eyes hard.. with a hard shake of her head, she broke free from the trance. She looked at the one immediately to her left, "Yeah, yes.. sorry" . The man looked at her then towards the young man in the distance, "Do you know him?"There was a brief silence between the man and Alma before she responded. "I.. can't say I know him. But, it feels like I have seen him somewhere before." Alma said to the sailor. Azakir had noticed the distraction but decided to brush it off as just a coincidence. The sailor was bit put off by Alma's response as she came off a bit distant. She felt compelled to question her memory on the man but could not bring anything to mind.

Azakir was patient as the last few boxes were being off loaded, There was much to worry about but it seemed as if being in Alma's presence made Azakir calm. The Marines had been running from the ships to the carts that were to hold the goods that Alma had brought with her. It took a few hours before all the crates were unloaded and ready to set off. The Sun was near its quarter point by the time the carriages were ready to set off. Cyrus and Alma were put into a second carriage while Azakir and the others were put into the same carriage they had arrived in.

Na'hura and Yignaus were smiling at Azakir when he stepped into the carriage. "What," Azakir innocently stated as he looked at the two, "is there some secret joke that you two have that you aren't telling me about?" Azakir was surprised that the two had burst out laughing. As the laughing subsided, Na'hura spoke up. "It is nothing but the fact that we are amazed. At first we doubted your love for this woman who you hadn't seen in so long. Yet, the look on your face showed the love you have for her. I honestly believe that you and her are the perfect match." Na'hura said. Azakir blushed slightly, though not noticeable, and looked out the window. I hope she still feels the same about me as I do for her. Azakir's thoughts were distracted as the carriage started moving. It would be about an hour before they reached the manor where the wedding was being held.

That hour passed, and the next, and the next. As the Manor began to fill up, Alma could only stare out of the grand windows of her room. The place was elegant beyond all measure, fitting for the event she was about to attend. Alma was surprisingly calm though, her parents and maids rushing around for the last minute details. Outside, she could see Azakir for a mere second but it was enough to calm her. "This spell he has me under.." she said. Her mother stepped up, "A spell? there is no spell.. it is a special connection that is beyond any magic ever known or will ever be known. there is no spell for the heart.". Alma gave a warm smile and closed her eyes only to be interrupted.. "ow!" she snapped as her mother leaned around to face Alma. "Too tight?". Alma's face was red with pain and her eyes closed hard. "Yes, too tight" her mother said before loosening it.

Outside, Cyrus stood quietly at the door, watching the people move quickly in and out.. "it's not like they knew this day was coming a year in advance". He looked around and then crossed his arms.he then let out a sigh, "Where is he?" Near by, Azakir was talking to the Marine Commander, Vance Tiborn. "I want you and your soldiers to make sure there is no chance of anybody getting injured here today. Every person who enters must be frisked by both a Marine and a Mage before they are allowed in. Should any fights break out, your men are to Escort the fighters out. Do not, under any circumstance, harm a single hair on the bodies of anybody here." Azakir told Vance as he was tying a indigo stained cape to his armor.

It was the same armor he had worn before the Rebellion began and Alma was forced out of Ma' Hurcazak. It had more scratches than it did back then but it still fit. Vance had left Azakir standing alone by a bush of flowers. The flowers were pink roses, the same roses that Azakir had brought to Alma after he told her he loved her. It was fitting that he had a bush planted at the manor after the Rebellion. That moment made Azakir remember that he had forgotten something very important. He ran into the Manor and up to the top floor where he opened his desk. Inside sat a small pocket prayer book who's pages were stained and cover had dirt on it. He let out a sigh as he opened the page and looked over his vows inside.

The small prayer book was then placed in his breast pocket as a bell rang. The one ring notified everyone that it was one o'clock, a half hour from when the wedding was to begin. Soon, Azakir would be face to face with his fiance once more and he could barely stop himself from rushing to her room and hugging her.

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Other events,

As per requested by the Sacrosanct, an small detachment of 800 soldiers has been dispatched from Kadia to assess the situation. they will meet up with the sacrosanct soldiers at the borders of Ironmarch roughly the same time.
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Goldeagle1221
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Goldeagle1221
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Goldeagle1221 I am Spartacus!

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The loud rainy battlefield was a gory mess as it circumferenced the disturbing flesh born spire that jutted aggressively from the charred and beaten ground. Three hundred and thirty three minotaurs fought a cumbersome fight as a wave of chitin bodied tharntin rushed them from all sides. The ominous breeze from the hollow of the spires entrance blew a sickly blast of acrid stench into the Harnians steaming nostrils as their massive weapons beat and crushed the razor sharp raptors who lunged with hopes of tearing their jugulars and rendering their flesh with their hungry fangs and blood soaked claws. The sight was disturbing as many black veined Harnian minotaurs littered the ground with neither a living breath or the chill of death, but despite this grim future, the Harnins fought with increased vigor multiplied by each fallen warrior and fed with an adrenaline thrilled rage at the demise of each thartin devil.

One of the minotaurs who stood closest to the entrance, Freg Gerntef, a young warrior scholar fought with impressive morale as his mighty warhammer dug its spike into the bone finned head of one of the reptilian like thartin. Fregs eyes were glossed over with infamous harnian rage as his pupils dilated and shrunk repeatedly, and his own musky breath asserted itself over the stench of flesh.

The mighty warrior kicked out with his hefty hoof and split open the thick chitin shell of one of the devils, and a sludge like substance gushed out as the creature shrieked and fell to the dirty ground. With one final stomp, Fregs hoof dug into the open wound and into something squishy, ending the vile demons life.

Freg turned to face his comrades only to realize that with his ambitious haste of battle he had accidently fought his own way deeper into the enemy horde than he would have liked, putting about a stones throw between him and his companions. Luckily the thartin rushed around him more often than faced him, as they seemed more interested in the bulk of the minotaur army.

An interesting coincidence ” Freg pondered. This group mentality of the thartin had proposed another advantage for Freg, as he soon realized when he looked back at the poorly guarded entrance to the great fleshy spire.

The lone minotaur turned back to the group and spotted a extremely large and familiar minotaur who had just cleaved a charging tharntin in half with a lucky downward stroke of pure muscle with a heavy and long cleaver fit for a giant.

“Gortag!” Freg called out deeply over the cacophony of those not lucky enough to fend of the thartin, along with the mind piercing screams of the vile beast.

“Freg!” Gortag bellowed back, hefting his massive cleaver into another enemy, barely stumbling out of the way of a mist of venom that erupted from the devil.

“Gortag!” Freg yelled again, quickly sidestepping a leaping thartin and returning the attack with a quick thrashing of a warhammer.

Freg turned back to Gortag and focused on the giant muscled minotaur, “Gortag! I’m going-”
Suddenly the thartin jumped back from its thrashing with its arms hanging off its body on broken bones and loose attachments of chitinous skin.

“Yortorg!” Freg cursed through his teeth as he quickly swung his hammer frantically in surprise. The toothed flat of the hammer connected against the side of the beasts head with a loud crack, sending the thartin back to the body part littered ground.

“I’m going in to get the high king!” Freg finally yelled in a hoarse and tired voice before kicking the ground with his cinder block like hooves and began a suicidal dash for the spire. Freg foolishly closed his eyes as they started to water from the sprint and the whirlwind wind that was breathed with hate from the spires opening. The world became black behind his closed lids as his hooves pounded the ground and fallen body alike.

“Freg?” Gortag the Large said as he watched perplexed, “ FREG!”

The calls of Gortag were blurred against the shrieks and shrills of the enemy as the wind howled angrily in his taurus ears, forcing him to lay them flat against his thick bull skull. This small act did not muffle the sounds effectively and harsh screaming pounded Fregs head as his first hoof met the squishy entrance of the evil den. There were powerful yells behind the scholar and as he opened his eyes he was struck aback by the cavernous atrium he had rushed into, where a dozen of lifeless eyes scanned him closely.

His fingers trembled as he gripped his hammer at the ready, this was it, Freg kept thinking to himself. Curiously Freg noticed the thartin has not rushed from their rocky and flesh covered holes to meet him yet. The minotaur turned to gaze at what he had left behind in the battlefield, only to witness the entire thartin horde charging to get back into the spire, leaving the army of Harnians to charge behind them in retaliation.

Suddenly it happened, the brooding thartin sprang from their homes and bared sawed teeth and claw as they charged the long Freg. The first to reach him was met with a powerful swing to the jaw from his hammer, the second suffered a similar fate, but the third, fourth, and fifth jumped him at the same time. Freg groaned in pain as their knife like claws dug into his flesh and ripped his muscle, and only after a shallow bite was he able to knock them off. With quick and angry swings, Freg began to work the thartin into a paste with his mouth wide open, screaming curses at the shrieking monsters. By time Freg finished his onslaught the other thartin had fled, and he himself was drenched in the blood of the dead, the sick salty taste poisoning his taste buds with a foul taste.

Freg could hear behind him that the minotaur army intercepted the once charging thartin and resumed their own strife. With his back safe, Freg decided to keep pushing in. Suddenly Freg’s advance was cut short by a deep trembling and vibration shooting from the ground.

With a mighty roar a dark figure erupted from down the dark halls that lead into the atrium. The beastly hulk stood three times Fregs own giant posture and was many times thicker in muscle and plated skin. The beast had horns much like Fregs, only twisted with thorns and matched with blazing eyes that bore down from a massive bull head.

Freg knew at once that he was staring at once was the High King, he knew by the large shimmering axe that was loosely gripped in the mighty monsters bone knuckled fist.

“Tundir Tinkinharn…” Freg muttered, frozen in his spot as the monster continued its charge, its very hooves cracking the ground with a mighty force. Suddenly Fregs usual ambition rushed back into his head and he swallowed his fear, along with the blood of the thartin.

Freg charged the beast, and the two quickly came upon each other. However, instead of connecting, Freg launched his hammer at the beast and quickly dove horn first between the sprinting trunks of legs of the massive abomination. The spike of the hammer dug deeply into the confused monstrosities hand, causing it to howl in anger as it dropped the High Kings axe onto a pile of blackened corpses.

With renewed rage, what once was the high king charged once more, and Freg was
quick to match it again. Once more, Freg dove between the monsters gap and this time rolled towards the dropped axe. The magic relic sputtered as its usual magic properties suffered and refused to blossom in such a corrupted place. Freg grunted at it and ripped it from the pile of corpses and began his own rush at the once more charging monstrosity. This time the beast smashed its path with its hooves and massive hammer like fists, nothing was spared from the crashing thrashes as the beast approached the charging Freg at a high speed.

The axe sputtered more in Fregs hand, but this time it suddenly bursted into a glorious and bright fire, engulfing both the entire weapon and Freg alike in the divine flame. With a shout of glory Freg pushed off of the ground in a mighty heft and leaped into the air with the High Kings axe in a blazing arch. He continued his shaking roar as he soon was face to face with the beast, and his burning axe dug itself deep into the high kings skull, the magical force and flames tearing it apart in an explosive effort as the entire atrium was lit up with a bright flash.

Angry screams and shrieks of thousands upon thousands of unearthly voices flooded and rampaged in Fregs pounding head as he stood victoriously drenched in wet gore on top of the ripped apart corpse of what once was his king and with all his energy and rage, Freg yelled back.

The half human Silini pushed and pulled on the thrashing Freg, as the old Harnian attacked his bed with increasing vigor. Finally the brown haired woman slapped the boney cheek of the aging bull and his dark eyes shot open.

“What, what,” Freg exclaimed as his hand grabbed the shaft of his mighty magical axe that laid beside him.

“Father, you were having your dreams again,” The human-esque woman explained as she put her soothing palm on Fregs hairy cheek, “Of the past.”

Fregs wild eyes calmed at her words and he took her soft hand from his face and gripped it tightly with his own rough fist.

“You insist on calling me father after all these years,” Freg said roughly as he motioned for water.

Silini lifted a wooden mug to Freg and looked at him intently with her human face, her dazzling eyes boring into his own, “to think you would be used to it now, it has been a couple decades.”

“I am not used to being old inside my own body, let alone to cope with anyone elses aging,” Freg did what Silini has grown to assume what was the rare minotaur version of a smirk and smiled back at him, “Come, Grotag and Jernkin are awaiting their aging friend.”

She stood up, and though she was tall in human terms, she was quite short in the eyes of a minotaur and Freg soon towered over his adoptive daughter and scanned his all too familiar study. The stone walled room was cooler than the rest of the mighty fortress it was found in, just how Freg liked it. He had one window, but it only was touched by the sun as it set, and heavy blinds were cast loosely over the glass. The bulk of his study was littered with loose pages and open books, as well as blotches of ink stains and spilt drinks. It was as one would expect a bulls personal study to look like, except for what was centered on his mighty oaken desk that was pushed up against one of the far walls; The Codex Anathema, or The D’sastr as the gilded title on the front cover suggested, was lightly placed on the desk, its dark binding worn and yet carefully taken care of, as leaflets stuck out from its leather cover, notes that are prepared to eventually be written into actual pages for Fregs grand work. This thick and heavy book was a size fit for a minotaur, and in it was every secret Freg had ever uncovered about the Darthlukian, the demons he was so keen to fighting and the very same force that had tainted his King he had slain years ago.

“Father!” Silini broke Fregs thought as he stared thoughtfully at his masterpiece that he commonly claims will only be completed when he begins to write a final chapter he already eagerly titled for whenever the occasion presents itself “The Fall of the Darkness”

“Father!” Silini interrupted his thought again to which was trailed off from the first interruption.

“What, what?” Freg asked with a slight annoyance, common among his kind, and all too familiar to the more serene Silini.

“Grotag and Jernkin?” Silini reminded him with an impatient tone.

Freg rubbed his eyes as he remembered why he had stood up in the first place, “Ah, yes, let’s go.”

Outside the fortress was a grassy field that surrounded the dark looming structure on all sides and then itself was surrounded by a thick wall and then further, a deep moat that is fed by a local stream. The land surrounding that was settled thickly by minotaur refugees from the dark wars but also commonly settled by native Caadori humans who have grown to enjoy the tales and heroisms of the minotaurs. There was a certain comfort in knowing that the utmost border of the country was being protected by the very same minotaurs who would risk hoof and horn to defeat any further advances by the demonic armies.

Freg’s friends, the other two heros of the Old Dead God of the long lost minotaur homeland, sat conversing on a stone bench overlooking a young human woman working on fixing a rotted rope for the well.

Grotag was quite the older minotaur and his sitting posture showed it quite clearly long with his black hairs becoming grizzled more and more with silver as his days go by. His body is still the largest and most muscular one of the Harnians, and he prides himself in at least being younger than Freg. The massive Harnian sat with his trusty cleaver as he observed the young woman with a fixed gaze.

Jernkin, the youngest of the three old heroes, sat beside him scratching his thick brown chin hair, and stared at the woman in question with a different gaze of confusion.

“Nope, I don’t see it,” Jernkin said as he turned his head to the large Grotag.

“What, really?” Grotag said in disbelief, “She’s gorgeous!”

Indeed the woman was, with shapely hips and a pretty nose that poked out from quite the alluring face, which in turn lead to a slender milky skinned neck. However pretty she was, she would normally be deemed much too tiny and frail for a minotaur.

“Shes absolutely stunning!” Grotag insisted with his hand motioning to her, who could now clearly hear the arguement.

“I don’t know, Grotag,” Jernkin said with a shrug of his massive shoulders, “She’s too, eh, petite.”

Jernkin paused and the two friends stared each other down, their gaze intensifying as seconds passed. Suddenly the two bursted out in laughter and the stare was diffused.

“You’re fascination with human women had always intrigued me,” Jernkin offered.

“And your fear of closed spaces and mazes always made me laugh,” Grotag said with a devilish look.

“Don’t go there, Grotag, labyrinths are damned frightening, and you know it.” Jernkin pointed an accusatory finger at the large Harn, which was met with a mere grunt.

“Yortorgs,” Freg jested as he suddenly stood behind the bench with Silini.

“Damned old bull,” Grotag said as he turned to Freg, “Your steps have gotten quiet with age.”

“I fear it is just your arguments that have gotten louder,” Freg replied without a change in expression. A sharp intolerable pain stabbed at Freg in the back of his mind, and his wincing left eye showed it clearly.

“News of Darmckin?” Freg asked quickly, as to distract his mind from growing whispers that clouded his thoughts.

“He is still at headquarters with the young Hernk last I heard,” Jernkin replied, “Hopefully his little politics with the northerner go smoothly and quick, I would much rather prefer rushing into battle against what we have pledged our tails to than sit here and listen to Grotag mush over a woman,” Jernkin rubbed the stub where his tail once hung.

“Agreed,” Freg said as he glanced at Grotag, whose attention was split between the conversation and the woman who now was almost done with the well.

“But you know the humans and their meetings and politics, they live for the stuff,” Jernkin said with a hint of defeat.

“I actually might have the cure for your lust,” Freg announced, “An expedition into the dark lands.”

“Did you run this by General Frederick yet?” Asked Silini who was equally as taken back by the announcement.

All at once the three minotaurs stared at Silini and grunted loudly through their nostrils.

“So, no,” Silini concluded.

Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Missy
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Firesworth, Captial of the 19th clan
If any word could describe Firesworth to the outsiders, it would be hodgepodge, rotten and old. The city had clearly been human during the former ages, with its clean cut stone and well-connected road system. The history of the city however was lost under piles of ashes from the book burning that littered the clans united history. For it was tradition, common practise and to some even zealously religious practises, to burn away all the old stories. Some even say the name ''Firesworth'' was not the city's original name, but the name but the name it was given when the rats burned pyres outside after their conquest of the city.

Its a odd town for the clan members to live in, after all the city was as stated not made for them. Several small stands litter the street corners, with hagglers and sales-rats selling their goods, witch range from legal narcotics to weapons to food to slave rats that had failed to pay their own depth. The several local taverns are staffed with bards and tale-spinners who tell the stories of the glorious rat history to the small females who where just born. Along the shadowy parts of town, criminals fester, whores sell their bodies to lusty females and even a male breeder that has escaped Zzzeaak hides in the shadows (but not for long as he will soon grow to big to hide)

This was all like she remembered it, Amerila thought as she arrived in the town on a early misty morning, walking in together with her Lighting brood body guard, the heaviest of the rat forces. True to their name they painted their two-handed glades, axes and swords with blue lighting warpaint, as their motto was ‘’Sudden’’. Sadly however it was not ‘Subtle’’ as Amerila wished it was since almost instantly as she enters Firesworth the small rat children playing amidst the street run away and hide from the big scary warriors, the humble merchants withdrew their goods from the stands and hide their peruses. Fearsome reputation is a double edged sword.

Happily Amerila herself was unrecognizable as the Ratkin she used to be. Last time she was here she was a humble female who just gotten herself dismissed by her mother (then herself a servant of the last queen) and ridiculed by the rulers as a week child with no aspirations or ambitions, all for the crime of not trying to play the game of politics with the rest of her race. Oh how by the first clan she despaired for her own race sometimes. As she, in her new garments that she had attaint on her travels, strolled through the copped stone streets she could only imagine what dark schemes lurked beyond every shadow and what dark future someone was planning for her right now.

’’Ambassador’’ the slithery sound and the elongated ‘’ss’’ sound was common to their race, but the breath was not. It smelled of Sliver, the famous drug that several rats was or had been addicted too. The voice itself came from a low-rundown homlessrat with a chuck of greenyellowy rock in her paw, since Sliver was made bones the most easy way to sell it was in rock form. Then the rat would scatch it with her teeth and then consum the small fragments for a buzz. Since it was years ago since Amerila herself had been in the grips of the Sliver devil she could no longer, to her joy, recall what it felt like to be under its influence.

’’Yes my dear?’’ The Lighting brood was already on high alert, since assassination attempts in rat-terms was almost as common as a greeting, quickly moving to make sure the street was secured. Again the part about ‘Subtle’’ was clearly lost on these simple minded warriors. She however sat down in front of the poor rat and inspected her. She had not eaten, her eyes had clear signs of bleeding and through the rags that this rat had for clothing, she could see that this rat had breed altest once.

’’*Hick* I remember…the first clan spoke to me in my dreams of your arrival’’ The Lighting brood had cleared the street and had ensured that no one had prepared a trap. Clearly they could be lying.

’’They did you say?’’ She was now watching the homeless one intensely, trying to determine if it had a dagger hidden underneath somewhere.

’’True as the cunt between my legs Ambassador!’’ When the blood started to droll out of the mouth of the poor one in front of her, Amerlia knew that his rat was clearly under the influence of that rock in her paw. Unless this was a very good Blood Brood agent, this rat would not be able to fight anyone, let alone Amerlia. Instead she played along some more, taking out her purose and handing over a handful of G’a

’’What did they tell you about me?’’. The rat picked up the G’a with the same spirit and fervor that one could expect before continuing with her story

’’Great things! Things of primacy! Things of a brighter future for all!’’ The rat women got up, her rags almost falling up the shame of no-one

’’Soon you will lead all rats of all stripes in to an untold and great future! You be the queen!’’ Amerlia just laugth softly to herself as she stood up.

’’How could I distrust your faithful visions? Use that G’a to buy yourself another crisp’’ Crisp was a old slag for Sliver, and often used by rats of the lower standing. The simple rat nodded and thanked her greatly before slumping down again in to the dirty street as Amerlia left her. As she left the humble rat sang for herself ever so quietly and softly as the time passed away.

She would be found dead soon after, the abuse of an overdose.

Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by DAWNSTAR
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DAWNSTAR A literal Type 0 Super Luminous Star

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Politics in Action

The bustling streets of Nagshinze were quiet compared to the distant port city of Hizeram. The majority of the citizens were politicans or merchants and anybody who was something were at Azakir's manor outside of Hizeram. The Council building of Nagshinze had a bustling centre where people were waiting to be heard by the Council. Two Harnians sat in waiting behind five other politicans. They had been waiting for a few days now to see the Council but with the recent events, the Council had closed their doors early leaving the Harnians waiting until the next day in hopes of seeing them. It would be a few hours before the Harnians would see the Council.

"Sirs and Madams of the Council," called a grizzled old man,"my small town, which has had no acts of violence in years, was recently raided by a group of Cultists. Those who fought back died and even some of those who didn't died. The majority of our women were taken and quite a few of the children were taken with them. I am not sure of their status as of this moment but we ask of you to send a contingent of soldiers to deal with these Cultists and rescue our dear friends and families." The Council members briefly conversed among each other before they came to the decison. The acting High Chair of Council rose from his seat and called down to the old man. "A small contingent of soldiers will be sent from the Templars to deal with these Cultists and help your people. The soldiers will be dispatched at the end of the week."

The old man bowed to the others as the guards escorted him out. The time had come for the Harnians to finally be seen by the Council. "I present to you, esteemed members of the Council, Darmckin and Hernk of the Horns of Harnia." called the attendent of the Council. The two Harnians walked into the center chamber of the Council. "We come before you today with a weighty decision for you. We ask that you, the esteemed and mighty men and women of the council, would consider making the refugees of Harnia citizens of your great realm. You have been gracious to us in allowing our presence and some of these Harnians have lived in Ma' Hurcazak since a young age and it is as if this is their home. We only wish for those who barely remember Harnia to feel as this wonderful place is truly a home to thome. We wish for our people to be citizens of Ma' Hurcazak so that they could have the same rights as the men in their villages do." with the end of the Hernk's speech, the Council erupted into conversation.

It took a few straight minutes before the High Chair could quiet the men and women of the Council. "What we have before us is a plead for citizenship from people who we have so hosted for years now. Even before that we had allowed their refugees to live on our lands. But, we can not answer their plea currently. It is unfortunate but, we must call this meeting to a stand still so that this matter may be answered by the full power of the Council. Return to this place in two weeks and we shall be more than capable to hear you. May the next case be brought in?" said the High Chair. The two Harnians were escorted out of the Council building with a look of disappointment on their face. They had come to the city in hope of having been capable of convincing the Council to allow the citizenship but having been turned away because the Council was not complete was better then being turned away because of an unwillingness to hear their plea.

Unrest on the Silver Sea

Pirates, feared killers who care only for money. It is a word which few people associate with being positive. All they hear about are the exploits of pirates who are going across the Silver Sea and killing innocent merchants so that they could get some coin. Sad truth is that not all pirates are bade. Some of them are only killing so that they can feed their families. But, in recent years, pirates have been becoming more violent then ever. More deaths had been caused on the Silver sea by pirates than have been caused by weather. Some say that the pirates are cultists who are looking to strike fear in the hearts of the citizens while another theory is that these pirates are simply doing it so as to cripple Ma' Hurcazak.

Admiral Braka walked across the deck of her ship, the White Swan, as the sun rose over the Silver sea. The beautiful waves of the sea were almost contrasting the dark clouds that loomed on the horizon. The storm would hit the city Venos in two days at the most. It wouldn't be long before Braka's detachment of thirty ships, fifteen galleass and fifteen galleys, would set off to deal with a band of pirates known as the Iron Fist. The Iron Fist had been not only assaulting merchants but also small villages along the Silver shores. Their campaign goal had not been to rob but instead was the sole purpose of killing.

Their pillaging had left five villages burning with its denizens dead or dieing. People on the coast fear to leave their homes alone in fear of the Iron Fist. It had been assigned to Braka to take care of the Iron Fist, whether this meant destroying them or capturing them was still to be determined. Braka was determined to defeat the Iron Fist but she still hoped that it was possible to bring the members back alive. The White Swan and thirty other ships were ready to leave port three hours from noon where they would travel to just a days sailing north of Turikast where the Iron Fist was last seen. It would be a long week before Braka reached her destination but she was more than willing to get the job done no matter what.

A Wedding to Remember
A collaboration with Monkeypants and I

As the sun rose in the land of Ma' Hurcazak, distant black sails appeared on the horizon. These black ships of the Kadian navy sped towards the quiet city of Hizeram. From the lead black ship, Alma stood on the deck, looking at the green country ahead. She held her hand over her heart.. It was beating very fast as she was nervous but this feeling was deserved for it was a day of high significance, her wedding day. She could feel the gentle breeze from the wind that carried her towards her destination.

The water became choppy though and the vessel rose up on a wave and then came crashing back down, sending gallons of water on to the deck. Common among all ships but new to her and as she stood there, now soaking wet and standing in a puddle of water, marines ran to her aid. "My lady, perhaps it would be best to stay below deck?" one said. She replied, obviously upset, "Yeah, that'd be best." She turned abruptly and walked towards the middle of the ship where a door to the inside was located. Before she could make it, a puddle at her feet was deeper than she had anticipated and upon walking through it, she fell on her rear.

"My lady!" the marine said as he walked to her. She stood up and tried to brush herself off but all she succeeded in doing was making her dress worse off. The marine just stood there as she started to laugh. "I was never too fond of this garment to begin with." The marine gave out a pity laugh to ease her mind and with that, she opened the hatch and disappeared into the vessel. It wasn't long before the ship had arrived at the dock.

The morning had arrived and with it the detachment of marines guarding the carriage. Inside was Azakir Jakim, the most liked and well respected man in Ma' Hurcazak. What would a politician have to do with the port of Hizeram? The answer was quite simple, he was there to meet his bride. It had been a long time since they had met and it felt even longer for Azakir than just ten years. His heart raced and his hands were clamy. The chill breeze of the North blew gently through the open window and woke Azakir from his daze. The two other council members, Na'hura and Yignaus, were staring at him in wonder. Azakir was young for his race but he was also getting married to a woman he hadn't seen in years. The discussion that had come up when Azakir announced his marriage was a tense one, yet it was Na'hura and Yignaus who supported him the most.

The three had known each other for years, though on Na'hura's side it was through the correspondences that she sent them. They wanted to meet the young lady who had so easily stolen their friend's heart. "It seems you are worried Aza. If it is because you are reconsidering the marriage then it must be reasoned. But, I see no reason that shows you question the validity of your love. Are you worried that perhaps things have changed in her over the years?" Na'hura said calmly to Azakir. Yignaus and Na'hura knew how much this meant to Azakir, if anything changed he might just have questioned the marriage. But, Azakir was always an optimist and believed that Alma hadn't changed at all.

"No, it is not her love that I question. It is the upcoming debates we have in the Council. We must talk on making Harnians citizens and this might open old wounds. Nobody wants to remind the public of the War." Azakir said as he hid his nervousness. Though he was speaking true to his heart, there was a small part of him that was worried about the marriage. He was not willing to give Alma a wedding he believed was not what she was due. She was willing to wait this long; he knew he must make it worth her time. The carriage came to a halt as a cool breeze smelling of salt and fresh bread wafted through the open window. They had arrived at the docks, it was finally time for Azakir to see the woman he fell in love with so long ago once more.

As the boarding planks lowered, men in leather with interwoven polished steel armor began moving down the ramp. They were covenant holy marines and with perfect and precise movement, they paved a way through the crowd and formed a perfect box for the new arrivals to arrive in to. A younger man with beautiful ornate armor was the first non marine to walk down the ramp. As he made his way down, marines saluted but he never returned one, Upon reaching solid ground, he walked towards the young Azakir and gave a slight bow, "Greetings from the Kadian Covenant, I am Cyrus, a knight from my homeland tasked with bearing a gift of immense value. Welcome her as you would your king, as she should be just as important." He stepped aside, (not giving whom ever he spoke to, a chance to speak.. cause Cyrus is a boss like that) extending his hand towards a robed and hooded figure appearing on the top of the ramp.

The figures large hood masked the face but as the body moved, it swayed at the hips which was a obvious trait of a female. As she reached the base of the ramp, Cyrus moved to her and stood behind her and with a soft tone she said "please". Her voice may have been recognizable after all this time. Cyrus quickly, yet very carefully removed the hood and long robes she had, revealing the young woman, Alma. Her hair shifted in the breeze and her attire, a sleeveless tunic, rippled from the oceans breeze. She looked up, now completely visible, to see him

Azakir's face lit up at the sight of his beloved's face ]which caused Alma to blush. It had been ten years since they had seen each other, something that had Alma on edge every night. Na'hura and Yignaus stood to the back and looked over the young Knight Cyrus. He had a confident air about him and the two were willing to bet that he was more so here to watch Alma rather than Azakir. Azakir wished that he could rush and grab her in his arms but that would not be gentleman like. Azakir walked up to Alma and took her hand. He lightly raised it to his mouth and kissed it. "My lady, it is nice to see you once more after so long. Sorry for such a heavy welcoming party but I would not be willing to take a chance with your safety. We have a carriage waiting for you to take you to the manor outside the city where you can get prepared. But first, let me introduce you to Councilwoman Na'hura and Councilman Yignaus." Azakir said as he walked her over to the two. She was very nervous at this point, constantly looking back to Cyrus for some sort of emotional comfort. She eventually crept around Azakir to present herself to his friends.

"This woman with golden hair is Na'hura Alessie, former Queen of Ma' Hurcazak. And this stout but trustworthy dwarf is Yignaus Akave, inventor of our very own 'clean coal'. They have known me from the rebellion and are great friends of mine. They are some of the few in the Council who support our marriage." Azakir said. Alma turned from her groom to be as Na'hura curtsied and Yignaus kissed Alma's hand. Azakir was still nervous but, when he looked back at the Silver Sea, he was reminded of the the day they met. Even more strange was that it was almost the same breeze as that day, before the revolution when things were in turmoil, before he would be separated from her. That day.. Alma smiled brightly as the ship arrived at the docks.. the city was a lot different back then, smaller? it was so long ago in her memory. A sailor walked to her and extended his hand. "My lady, we have arrived, lets get this under way."

Hours passed as they offloaded the ship, holy books and cheap clothing was brought fourth. Children and adults alike gathered around and she overheard whispering about the newcomers,. "From another land? how far?", "Are they here to fight?", "Why do they bring clothes?", "I hear they are Justinians." It went on and on. The priest that had accompanied her began to preach to the crowd, some left as he spoke but the ones that stayed were given new and clean clothing. The ones in rags looked the new garments and could only smile and listen to the charity that the Kadians brought. Alma brought out a map and started looking at marks on the map, locations of small settlements around the area. "All right" she said, pointing at the first one. "Lets go--" she paused and looked up to see a young man in the distance. She felt some sort of immediate curiosity towards him, like a spell had been cast over her eyes. Her entourage kept talking but she couldn't hear them anymore, her vision had become a tunnel and he was a light at the end of it.

"Alma!" "ALMA!" rang out in her head and she closed her eyes hard.. with a hard shake of her head, she broke free from the trance. She looked at the one immediately to her left, "Yeah, yes.. sorry" . The man looked at her then towards the young man in the distance, "Do you know him?"There was a brief silence between the man and Alma before she responded. "I.. can't say I know him. But, it feels like I have seen him somewhere before." Alma said to the sailor. Azakir had noticed the distraction but decided to brush it off as just a coincidence. The sailor was bit put off by Alma's response as she came off a bit distant. She felt compelled to question her memory on the man but could not bring anything to mind.

Azakir was patient as the last few boxes were being off loaded, There was much to worry about but it seemed as if being in Alma's presence made Azakir calm. The Marines had been running from the ships to the carts that were to hold the goods that Alma had brought with her. It took a few hours before all the crates were unloaded and ready to set off. The Sun was near its quarter point by the time the carriages were ready to set off. Cyrus and Alma were put into a second carriage while Azakir and the others were put into the same carriage they had arrived in.

Na'hura and Yignaus were smiling at Azakir when he stepped into the carriage. "What," Azakir innocently stated as he looked at the two, "is there some secret joke that you two have that you aren't telling me about?" Azakir was surprised that the two had burst out laughing. As the laughing subsided, Na'hura spoke up. "It is nothing but the fact that we are amazed. At first we doubted your love for this woman who you hadn't seen in so long. Yet, the look on your face showed the love you have for her. I honestly believe that you and her are the perfect match." Na'hura said. Azakir blushed slightly, though not noticeable, and looked out the window. I hope she still feels the same about me as I do for her. Azakir's thoughts were distracted as the carriage started moving. It would be about an hour before they reached the manor where the wedding was being held.

That hour passed, and the next, and the next. As the Manor began to fill up, Alma could only stare out of the grand windows of her room. The place was elegant beyond all measure, fitting for the event she was about to attend. Alma was surprisingly calm though, her parents and maids rushing around for the last minute details. Outside, she could see Azakir for a mere second but it was enough to calm her. "This spell he has me under.." she said. Her mother stepped up, "A spell? There is no spell, it is a special connection that is beyond any magic ever known or will ever be known. there is no spell for the heart.". Alma gave a warm smile and closed her eyes only to be interrupted.. "Ow!" she snapped as her mother leaned around to face Alma. "Too tight?". Alma's face was red with pain and her eyes closed hard. "Yes, too tight" her mother said before loosening it.

Outside, Cyrus stood quietly at the door, watching the people move quickly in and out.. "It's not like they knew this day was coming a year in advance". He looked around and then crossed his arms.he then let out a sigh, "Where is he?" Near by, Azakir was talking to the Marine Commander, Vance Tiborn. "I want you and your soldiers to make sure there is no chance of anybody getting injured here today. Every person who enters must be frisked by both a Marine and a Mage before they are allowed in. Should any fights break out, your men are to escort the fighters out. Do not, under any circumstance, harm a single hair on the bodies of anybody here." Azakir told Vance as he was tying a indigo stained cape to his armor. .

It was the same armor he had worn before the Rebellion began and Alma was forced out of Ma' Hurcazak. It had more scratches than it did back then but it still fit. Vance had left Azakir standing alone by a bush of flowers. The flowers were pink roses, the same roses that Azakir had brought to Alma after he told her he loved her. It was fitting that he had a bush planted at the manor after the Rebellion. That moment made Azakir remember that he had forgotten something very important. He ran into the Manor and up to the top floor where he opened his desk. Inside sat a small pocket prayer book who's pages were stained and cover had dirt on it. He let out a sigh as he opened the page and looked over his vows inside.

The small prayer book was then placed in his breast pocket as a bell rang. The one ring notified everyone that it was one o'clock, a half hour from when the wedding was to begin. Soon, Azakir would be face to face with his fiance once more and he could barely stop himself from rushing to her room and hugging her.

Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Goldeagle1221
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Goldeagle1221 I am Spartacus!

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Collab of Spleen and Gold, Harnia and Kunland


The mighty stone construction of Harnia's Keep was as intricate as a hive of wasps, with many cold stone chambers fit for every occasion. Deep in the heart of the fortress is the generals quarters where General Frederick of Sacrosanct conducts all the tedious paperwork the minotaurs seemingly purposely avoid. With Darmckin gone north all the weight of the business end of the Horns fell upon Frederick's aged but capable shoulders. The balding man sat straight in his oaken chair by his large desk that was pulled as close to the rugged stone wall as it could without becoming scratched, leaving a perfectly annoying amount of space for the stray pen or bobble to slide through and onto the cold carpeted floor. The aging soldier cleared his throat every so often as his pen scritched and scratched the bleached parchment he so anxiously wanted to be finished with. The man wore a fine red silken wardrobe that hung off his once muscular body quite nicely, though you could tell it was worn under the occasional coat of mail and plate from time to time. The white streaks that littered his short beard and remaining hair told of a very heightened age, coupled with the crevices that dug deep into his wrinkled face, one would assume this man a washed up desk general from this point forward. As much as some would try to agree with stating Frederick was all out of tricks, he wasn't and he would prove any man wrong with a youthful swing of his sword at a moments notice, but for now he sits alone in his brightly lit chambers swinging a pen rather than a polished blade.

There was a knock at Fredericks door, a knock that managed to make the thick door jump from its hinges for a split second, the type of knock Frederick has grown to recognize as a sign of a polite minotaur on the other side. With pale eyes the General scanned the door as if expecting more before responding in a remarkably unexpected strong voice, "Come in."

The old mans eyes returned to his work and he scratched off a few more letters as the door gently swung open. The door was twice the size of the average human door, renovated for the comfort of the minotaurs, but even with this size Freg Gerntef found that his entire body matched the frame of the door a little too perfect, causing him to fold his broad shoulders as he entered.

"Well met, Freg," The General noted as he settled his pen in a vial of ink, and turned sideways in his seat to face the giant, and glacing at the mighty axe of the High King that the famous minotaur leaned on.

"Well met indeed, Hinan Frederick," Freg said as the consonants boomed out of his mouth in the typical Harnian accent.

The term Hinan, or Human as it is translated to in the common tongue was not a term Frederick was free of, but still not one he particularly enjoyed, however over the years he has grown used to it and realized that the Harnians use it more as a term of endearment and recognition than a racial segregation. Frederick cleared his throat, "So I have heard about your plans, in fact I'm pretty sure the entire world is pretty aware already."

"Such is the way of things as of late," Freg added, "I do plan on an expedition, but I am not above manners, and wished to discuss it with you first."

"Very well, I appreciate the sentiment, as I know very well how many Harnians you could convince to abandon their positions with your," The General motioned at the High Kings axe, "Well you know, I won't pretend to know Harnian politics, but I appreciate it as always Freg."

Frederick gave the minotaur a thankful smile and leaned back in the chair, "However, it would appear you are not the only one here to talk to me today about your expedition, Kunland is waiting outside."

"Yes, I passed them on my way in, I had them wait," Freg said, looking up at the stone ceiling, "Why did you have them wait, though?"

Frederick just slapped a lazy hand on the paper and looked up at the minotaur with a tired look.

"Understood, Hinan," Freg said softly, or as soft as a minotaur would comfortably get, Frederick could have sworn the Heroic minotaur had a tinge of amusement lacing his words.

Freg poked his head out of the door and made a motion for the Kunlanders to come in.

The first of the Kunlanders to enter made quite the noisy entrance as the greaves of his heavy armor clanked on the floor. The man, if one wanted to call him that, swept his gaze over the room, briefly pausing as he looked at Frederick, before stepping to the side of the doorway and saying “Announcing Dame Marshall Alarch and Dame Loreley of Kunland.” As he spoke two women stepped into the room. The first, a human, swept into the room with an air of authority. The second woman, sporting the body of a snake below the waist, was definitely not human.

The human women regarded Frederick and Freg for a moment before speaking “As Thanos,” She gestured at the armored Kunlander, “said, I am Lynette Alarch. I have heard that you have a bit of an expedition planned.”

"I do indeed," Freg said with a nod of his head, welcoming the entrance.

Frederick had an annoyed expression on his face, the whole world had heard of this plot before it had reached his commanding ears. Of course, Frederick kept the annoyance to himself, as there was little for him to say about it with the course of how things were going, after all another country had already answered the call, it was hardly in the Generals hands now. Luckily, Frederick knew Freg was more than capable of handling his own, still it would have been nice to have been notified a long while ago.

"Ladies, would you please have a seat," Frederick said as he pushed past his annoyance and motioned towards two softly used wooden chair that sat against the wall. The General then looked once again at the woman with the snake coils under her humanly torso and questioned his own courteous request as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Loreley raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that's verily impossible, milord" Her silky voice seemed to hold a hint of humor.

Frederick nodded attentively at the expected reply and figured it was probably the best strategy to just let the guests speak for themselves at this point, and he raised his chin in question, "So what are your plans with Freg?"

"You mean besides loaning him a large formation of my soldiers?" Lynette asked as she waited for the armored Thanos to retrieve one of the before mentioned seats. She gave the man an appreciative nod as she lowered into the seat. "Look," She said after a moment, "We need information. And we need it now. There are two portions to strategy. Knowing yourself and your troops, and knowing your enemy." She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "I know nothing of my enemy."

Freg listened carefully at the woman's words as thoughts darted to and fro in his ever active mind. A sharp stabbing pain would burn across his head at every mention of the word enemy, as if the Darthlukian were there in the room listening with Freg. After the last burning sensation wore off, Freg lifted his ear commanding voice that erupted from his grizzled face, "The enemy are very well known to us, and we are known to them. I have copies of my unfinished book if you ever wish to read my previous findings."

Freg paused as if thinking deeply, the whispers were shouting at him and he urged them to go away with his own minds voice. They shouted again but this time Freg managed to suppress the whispers through sheer will.

"My plan is to go to the center of the lost lands, to the commanding spire," Freg continued, receiving the surprised glances of even Frederick as he announced this.

"You see, the Darthlukian think off of a thartag, or evil mind, like a hive of super bees. In every spire they have an elder brain from which the signals of the thartag are sent out. Where do these signals come from in the first place, I often wondered in my youth. However now I know, the largest spire of the Darthlukians, the one in the center of the lost lands, the center of the world, holds the origin of the thartag, and upon reaching it, I theorize, one could tap into it. I could learn all their secrets, weaknesses, everything, and possibly even reverse or control it, the dead one willing," The rare minotaur smirk couldn't help but wrestle its way on Freg's face as he finished his short speech.

Frederick nodded in thought throughout the entire pitch, up until the mention of the dead one, in which he couldn't help but suck a little air in as he made a tight cringing face, as if he had tasted something sour. After a split second of cringing, Frederick regained his posture and spoke approvingly, with a hint of a generals skepticism, "A brilliant idea, but how can you be so sure such a thing exists in the center?"

Freg just glanced at Frederick with his coal eyes, as if the answer was plainly obvious, "Decades of study and first hand experience."

"But what if," Loreley's singsong voice held a hint of worry, "this spire you speak of somehow manages to gain control over you? To control these... Darthlukians? Yes, to control these Darthlukians over a large area it must be using some verily powerful magic."

"It's not magic," Freg said plainly, "They feast upon magic as starving wolves, for they do not possess it."

"No," Freg continued, "For them to gain such control it would be through a disruption of natural magic, a taint so to speak, a taint which I as well as many Harnians have already wrestled. You speak a sound warning, but one that must be taken lightly, as the reward of the expedition or at least trying would be wiser than a slow ignorance driven defeat."

"I agree" Lynette leaned forward slightly, "the risk is greatly outwayed by the potential reward. If nothing else we need knowledge. What these Darthlukians can physically do. How they fight. If they are a monolithic force or not. Anyone of these questions answered would be worth a grand sum of gold drachma."

The seasoned General spoke up, "They are very adaptive fighters, much like strategists they change their approach when they find that their current tactics are failing them, however they do this much quicker than any earthly general."

Frederick snapped his finger as if sealing his point, "To over take them is to first overtake their way of communicating, this much I agree with Freg."

"Milord general,"Loreley spoke up, eliciting a glare from Lynette, "while familiar it pains me to admit that I can't place your accent. Would you mind telling me where you came from?" Something about her tone indicated that she actually knew more than she was letting on.

Frederick's pale eyes studied the serpent woman for a split second, a habit he had grown accustomed to while commanding field drills, his glazed look was soon rebuked as he formulated his answer, "I was born in the Holy city of the West."

"Sacroscanti!" If tone could kill, all who heard Lynette's exclamation would have dropped dead that instant. She bolted to her feet, and her hand reached for a sword that was missing from her hip.

"A slow ignorance driven defeat," Freg reiterated as he faced the racial explosion with emotionless eyes.

"Ser Minotaur is correct" Loreley placed a restraining hand on Lynettes shoulder. If Lynette hadn't known better she would have sworn she saw a glimps of amusement spread across the lamia's face. "Methinks," Loreley continued, "it is past time we let bygones be bygones."

Frederick sighed as his typical annoyed visage reermerged, "Back on track," The General said with a dismissive tone, "How much do you wish to pledge to Fregs expedition?"

Lynette narrowed her eyes as she looked at Frederick. “Five hundred troops. One hundred of which are cavalry.” She paused for a moment before adding “No mages.”

“Dame marshall” Loreley said with just a hint of reproach, “I believe we had discussed sending an entire tagma, not a single numeri.

Lynette closed her eyes as she shook her head. “I simply will not release so many troops under the commander of a… a sacrascanti or one who affiliates with a sacrascanti.” She let ample emotion into her voice to make it clear she was not going to budge on the point. “I believe I am being quite generous anyways.”

Loreley simply shrugged. “Ser Minotaur, would you mind disclosing how many have signed up to join your expedition?”

The old minotuar took a moment to watch Fredericks brow furrow at the displeasure Lynette was expressing about his origins, and with his curiousity satisfied Freg turned his gaze to Loreley.

"The eager masses of Harnia have shown interest, too many in fact to take with me. Therefore, I have chosen four hundred highly skilled and seasoned Harnians to accompany Grotag, Jernkin, Silini and I, as well as fifty to scout around as the main force marches for comfort," Freg said before he cleared his throat and looked expectingly at Frederick, who sat with his fingers in a thoughtful pyramid.

Frederick looked up at the giant and folded his fingers, " You may take two hundred high end archers and five hundred diciplined troops with you, but I feel we would need more pledges of nutrition and supplies, most of which I can provide."

The General returned to his thoughts, "If this expedition goes well enough, I can see a possible funding of a supply train to go into the lost lands directly, allowing fresh ventures and bases to pop up in enemy territory."

Freg nodded at the Generals thought, and with a clear voice he recounted the numbers as well as the investive idea, "An interesting side effect. Very well, there will be five hundred Kunlanders, four hundred and fifty Harnian Horns, and seven hundred Crusader Horns, with supplies being provided by the General, and I assume Lady Lynette?"

Lynette lowered herself back into her seat, her eyes glazing over for a moment as she lost herself in thought. She tapped her foot twice on the ground before turning to regard Freg. “We will provide supplies for approximately one thousand soldiers as well as assign a kentarchia to help provide protection for any supply trains the expedition will use.” She paused for a moment before adding “In exchange I expect Kunland to have equal ownership and full access to any bases that might be set up.”

Loreley leaned in and whispered something into Lynette’s ear. The word ‘mage’ was just loud enough to be overheard by the others in the room. Whatever it was that Loreley had whispered, the only response she received was a simple shake of the head.

“Are these terms acceptable?” Lynette asked, her attention apparently fully on Freg and pointedly ignoring Frederick.

"Acceptable, yes," Freg said thoughtfully, "However I would put any ideas of bases out of mind until the expedition is done."

"There is one last concern I have," Frederick said abruptly, "Will you be leaving anyone in particular in charge of the Kunland troops, or shall we arrange commanders and heroes?"


“You need not worry about our chain of command. Knight commander…” She crossed her arms as she searched her memory for the man’s name, “Harbin shall in command of all Kunlander troops present, unless and until a higher ranked officer is sent. Our chain of command is sophisticated enough to handle any situation in which he is no longer able to lead the troops. As for heroes we-“

“Will be sending two” Thanos spoke up for the first time since the conversation had started.

“Excuse me? I believe-“

“That your emotions are getting the better of you.” Lynette scowled as she was interrupted for a second time. Thanos didn’t seem to mind raising the Dame Marshal’s ire, although given that his face was hidden behind a helm it was hard to discern his emotions. “The Emperor made it clear he wanted this expedition to be a success. If you will not full heartedly follow his orders then I shall champion his cause. I presume Loreley is of like mind.” A slow nod from the lamia confirmed his belief.

Lynette sighed before slowly rising to her feet. “Very well then. I shall leave any further details to you two. Good day Freg, Sacrascanti.” She looked at the two men in turn before turning and exiting the room.

“I beg you forgive the Dame Marshal for her puissant… prejudice towards you milord.” Loreley said to Frederick. “The history between Kunland and Sacrascant has been one of wanion. Fear not, the two of us,” She gestured at Thanos, “shall be most liefest in our dealings with you. Now tell me: is there anything else you wish to discuss at this time?”

"If this is all you pledge, then with appreciation due, we may end our conversation and revisit further details after we rally the troops and take account of supplies," Frederick nodded his balding head at his own words as his right hand pinched his quill and held it to the paper that sat before him.

“I shall see to some final preparations on our end then.” Thanos stated. “We shall be ready to leave on your word.” He gave a curt nod before turning and leaving.

“Ser Minotaur. Ser Frederick” Loreley gave a deep bow, “now I will take my leave as well. I look forward to working alongside you.”

"likewise," Freg grunted in his minotaur fashion.

Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Titanic
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Titanic

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The March of Iron

The town stood in front of me abandoned and dark, a brief glance would make you think that it was deserted long ago. Grass grew between cracks in the streets, homes and buildings hung rotting, and a number of door and windows were broken. There was nothing left of worth, even the things without any worth were taken. This town stood on the border of Ironmarch, a once proud vassal of the Kazaji. The town couldn’t have been abandoned more than a few months ago, but it had fell into disrepair along with its people long ago. There may be nothing left in this town but it is one of the legacies of the Kazaji people, a once proud people…

-Prince Daemos-
The host stretched on for miles upon miles, two million people, an entire nation in exile and on the march along with all their belongings. I stood high upon the tallest hill in the surrounding landscape yet I still couldn’t see the end. The convoy of my people stretched on past the dark, black horizon of the sky.

“My Prince Daemos, we must ride on. No light shall shine today on the land, we need to see what's beyond.” said my squire Trien as he rode up to me on top of the hill.

“Tell me Trien, what do you see in front of me right now?” I asked him as I watched the host slowly move across the corrupted landscape.

“What do you mean my lord? I see our proud people moving across lands that were once ours.” Answered Trien, a look of plain innocence on his face.

“You know what I see? I see an endless line of poor sad people that once thought themselves as gods. We once owned this land that we walk on this very moment but we lost it to the very people that we took it from, many fled this land and the ones that didn’t were killed. We have lost our claim to glory and heaven when we abandoned the old gods and this is our fate, we are now few and our land is destroyed and ruled by imbeciles that have given themselves to the darkness that destroyed us.”

Trien just gave my words a look as he tried to process my speech.

“Nevermind what I just said, we should be moving on.”

It started to drizzle an hour into our dreary ride. I sent Trien along with four outriders farther out to scan the landscape and to search for anything that was worth looking for in the dark plain landscape.

I was riding alone over a hill when I spotted the peak of a chimney, and I quickly sped up into a gallop until a large village came into my view. A stone road soon appeared from the dirt path I was following, and after slowing to a trot I carefully scanned the surrounding buildings. The settlement seemed to be a hobbit village, as there were a number of doors and windows built into small hills and the buildings that were above ground were very small and short.

Everything seemed to be abandoned, as by the time I reached the center of the village I had seen no signs of life, and it was as if even the wind seemed to die. After Climbing down from my horse, I led it to the fountain located at the center of the town square. The water didn’t look safe to drink but then again there was nothing safe for hundreds of miles. It bent its head down to take a drink when I heard a rustle behind me. I quickly drew my sword as I spun around with my other hand securely placed on my horse in case I needed to get away quickly. There was no movement as I looked upon the spot where the noise came from, but all I saw was the door of a small inn swing open as a strong gust of wind caused it to flap, almost making it fall of its old hinges. Whatever made that noise was gone, and only the dead gods know where it went. The horse was just nibbling at some grass that was growing around the edge of the fountain when I turned around to get back on him.

I was nearing the edge of the town, and the buildings started thinning out as I advanced. There was a ruined watchtower that stood to the side of the road. The tower was looming to the side of me when my horse suddenly screamed and collapsed under me. The startled horse fell on my leg. Through the pain I didn’t notice the small creatures coming out from around the buildings and the tall grass as I tried to pull my leg free.

They were horrible creatures, and most of them were barely four feet tall, but all of them were bone thin, save for a few who had bloated stomachs and bloody mouths. I already had an idea of what they ate while they were advancing on me.

“Fressssssssh meat,” some said while others just licked their black lips and crawled forward with their arms reaching for me.

“Come on you stupid horse, move.” I said as I pushed against it. I tried sliding my leg out from underneath but the hobbits grabbed me before I could fully get it out. The creatures pulled me out fom under the horse and held tightly to all my limbs. I struggled as they began clawing at me, ans trying to bite me through my chainmail. I tried clawing them back but a number of the hobbits were holding my wrist.

Then a sudden pain shot through me near the right side of my head, and I quickly realized that one of them was biting my ear. The pain intensified as it felt like my skin and fur was about to be torn away when the pain suddenly eased.

I heard a number of horses ride past and multiple outlandish screams as the pressure eased from the creatures. With less of the hobbits holding me down, I managed to shake them off and rise to my feet while they were being distracted by the riders. I then jumped and pulled out my sword but all the creatures had been cut down already.

“Prince Daemos, are you ok?” Asked one of the riders, and looking up I could see that it was Trien and the other riders that I sent with him.

“We only just came back and were looking through this village when we saw you getting attacked.”

I walked over to the small bodies that were laying on the ground. It took a second to realize they were deranged hobbits. They were horrible compared to the ones owned by the Kazaji, as they were bone thin and disfigured in nearly every way imaginable. The hobbits' faces were just skin over bone with deep dark shrunken eyes and one had a twisted mouth as if it was laughing at its own death.

“Lets get back, I want the guards doubled in the host and all civilians and soldiers are to avoid towns until we reach the capital.” I tell my squire.

-King Kajo-
The world was dark outside, and my people have marched on their feet for weeks.The old and young walked, and only the lucky rode. Yet here I was, the king and leader of them all,I was suppose to be a figure that they followed and admired but here I sat in a carriage filled with luxuries that was followed by a line of servants while many of them starved and suffered. My vassals and anyone that still holds power already hated me because they saw my choice to take everyone into exile as a sign of weakness. They are forced to ride on horses when once they rode in carriages so massive and luxurious that they could have been called palaces. While my way of travel makes them envious, it also makes them unite for a common cause. I am old and will not live much longer, and my son is loved by the people but not the lords. I hold the last of the Kazaji together, and if the lords were to overthrow me, they know that the Kazaji would forever scatter. However, if they were all to support my oldest son, not only would they get rid of me but they would better off. The people would follow my son if I stepped down in favor of him and the lords would have to be united under my son, as anyone that goes against him would be seen as a traitor and anyone that is declared a traitor is exiled and shunned by the host.

“My grace, would you like another serving of wine?” asks a serving girl, a bottle of wine in her hand, it was one of the few remaining luxuries that existed for any of the Kazaji.

“No thank you, I must be sober for a little while. But may you get my horse prepared, and my armor."

I was dressed in a set of steel armor decorated from head to toe with gems, figures, and all sorts of rare items, I might not be liked by my vassals but I still must look formidable among them. I had already sent for them, they were scattered among the ordinary people as they had no other task of a normal lord except to guard his or her people. It was nearly an hour before they arrived. Only five out of eight showed up, and only one of them was a high lord, the three that didn’t appear were all high lords.

“You summoned us my grace.” said Lord Harlem. Once Harlem's family was the most powerful noble family behind the royal family, having expanded the lands of the Kazaji Empire southeastward, now he controlled no land, and his title of Protector of the South was only honorary, and his entire retinue was a mere thousand. The other four lords that had appeared were minor ones that held land around the capital, they were ancient, proud, and loyal but weak.

“Ride with me.” I told him.

“Lord Fowler, Lexum, and Kekan have sent their apologies, their people are located near the edges and rear of the host and have faced a number of troubling things that they must handle." He tells me.

“They have no need to make excuses, to protect the people is the most honorable act you can do right now.” I tell him. “Tell me Lord Harlem, how is your wife doing? I heard that she is with child.”

He fell silent before answering, “Yes, I hope it's a strong boy, but even for the strong this is a bad time to be born into the world.”

The other lords rode up to both of us a few minutes later and ask my permission to leave, a group of rabid natives appeared to be attacking the host. Lord Harlem looked down awkward when he realized that he was the only one remaining.

“I’m sorry that your heir will be born in such a dark time, but I promise you, once we reach our new land and home you shall be rewarded for your loyalty to me and be given a fourth of the new kingdom.”

It seemed to be a moment of eternity before he finally spoke up, “What new land, what hope do we have of ever reclaiming the glory that we once held as a people! Look behind you and look at what my loyalty has brought me, lordship over a few thousand poor sad people and no land! All the other lords were destroyed but at least they died honorably and in battle against the darkness! We are fleeing, given up on our fight with our enemy, we have no chance of claiming any land that won’t be claimed by the darkness and my son will be the last of my son and lord of nothing!” He screams at me.

I look at him, his words don’t surprise me one bit. “Thank you.”

He was clearly shocked by my comment from the look that was plastered onto his face.

“You are certainly the most loyal of my lords, the rest act like they are still lords over something, they deny that they have no power. They act as if they love me but in truth, they hate me and plot against me every second. You have spoken your mind, something they won’t do. As such, I know that you are the most honorable and the most loyal of them.” I tell him calmly. “We may have lost nearly everything as a people, including ourselves, but we aren’t broken. The darkness has sent us into our exile and destroyed our people but we aren’t broken. We speak and feel and move forward. We may have been set backwards but I promise you that we won’t give up and we will reclaim our homeland and glory one day.

Lord Harlem didn’t react to my comment. We rode on for a few minutes before he asked for leave and just rode off.

After he rode off, I asked for someone to summon General Krakon. He appeared shortly after I sent the message.

"You asked for me my king?" I asked as he rode up. He was dressed in plain armor and alone.

"Tell me General, what do you think of my choice to march through this grim and dark landscape called The Ironmarch?" I asked him.

I didn't speak for a while, clearly pondering my question.

"To be honest my king, I think it was a poor choice. Our people were nearly given up when we began our journey. This path has caused our numbers to dwindle, we have lost hundreds of thousands that have simply given up and wandered off when we only have two million. We won't have more then one and a fifth million when we exit this area."

"In the eyes of many, losing hundreds of thousands would seem to be a poor choice." I say calmly.

"You knew that this would if we marched through here?" I asked, the surprise clearly in his voice.

"Before I summoned you, I had a ride with one of my high lords. He spoke the truth to me but whether it was out of bravery or anger I do not know. Our people are sad and poor, we have lost the glory that we once held and many of us are weak. Many before me were too proud to save our people and make the choice to send the kingdom into exile, I realized that in order to save the Kazaji, we must find a new home before the darkness destroys us but I also realized another thing."

He didn't need to speak, there was a look of question of on his face.

"I realized that in order to survive, we needed to be strong but we couldn't make our people strong, we had no time. In order for us to survive, we need to let go of the weak, this March of Iron will let go of the weak and once we leave this land, only the strong will remain. For to rebuild our empire and glory, we must be strong."

Lord Krakon didn't speak for a while, soon we just kept riding on, going on with of our March of Iron.
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Goldeagle1221
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    The sun peaked through the small windows of the stone halls in the grand fortress. The red drapes that hung over the slits glew pink with the afternoon sun and a hint of the fields fragrence that surrounds the fortress kissed the usual stale air that usually compliments the atmosphere of a military fort. 
    
    The clack of heavy hooves rang through the empty halls, muffling out the soft pounding of boots that stepped next to them on their way to Freg's study.
    
    "So Kunland?" Silini, the owner of the boots, asked Freg. Her eyes hinted at a sense of worry as they scanned the silent minotaur who walked siluetted in front of the windows glow.
    
    The heavy beastly scholar just gave casual minotaur grunt, which was all she had been able to get out of the thinking minotaur the entire walk, something she thought she would be used to by now. Whenever Freg went on a journey into his thoughts, it always worred Silini. Freg would become extremely reserved and almost adopt a permanent scowl on his face until he would finally reach the end of his thought and claim the conclusion his treasure before returning to the present physical world as his usual self. The troubling part was the actual journey, as Silini did not know exactly what Freg pondered on so intently, only that his eyes looked dim, and his smile nonexistant until the long awaited conclusion.
    
    Suddenly another sound of an approaching individual echoed in the hollowed hallway, quickly approaching the pair with intent and haste.
    
 “I beg your forgiveness for interrupting you two” Loreley interjected, “but there was a matter I felt needed to be brought to your attention erelong.” She slithered into the room, allowing for those who accompanied her to enter as well. “Allow me to introduce a few interested parties from beyond Kunland.”

    Freg and Silini turned to the approching group and Freg gave Silini a very familiar look with his dark eyes. The tall horned woman gave an uncomfortable smile to the group and clapped her hands once as if to banish a few stray thoughts.
    
    "Yes, how can I help?" Silini asked politely, engaging Loreley with a warm gaze and welcoming posture.

    Following a fair distance behind Loreley was a tall but slender man.  His feet moved softly on the ground, whispering the quality of the simple garb he wore.  A long dark forest green cloak trimmed in red overhung the man’s face, casting it in shadow.  He lifted his hands up and drew back the hood revealing a healthy yet pale looking face topped with short silver hair.  The man moved forward and proffered his hand before he spoke warmly, “Greetings, I am Viscount Heiun.”
    
    "I am Silini of Harnia," The woman said happily as she shook Heiun's hand with a little too much vigor. 
    
    The Viscount reciprocated the handshake as best he could manage and continued, “Though you may have guessed, I have been dispatched from Ararllia. “ 
    
     He paused for a moment and continued in a more serious tone, “Forgive this rather unceremonious meeting but i fear Ararllia is not the bastion of stability it once was, the Queen figured it best to make any participation in this expedition strictly unofficial.  There are a few nobles sorely lacking in loyalty that would exploit any perceived weakness to undermine her position.  To that end you may note I have come with the Kunlanders.” 
     
      The Viscount gestured at Loreley, “It is not much but I would ask you to welcome some twenty men that with Freg’s consent will be joining your expedition from Ararllia, though for the moment they will be flying Kunland colours.”

    Silini looked at Freg who was still in the shadows created by the windows and made a face at his absent presence before turning back to the Viscount.
    
    "The more the merrier," Silini confirmed as she flashed a wide smile, "Is Kunland providing the living supplies for your twenty, or does her Majesty plan on sending some funds of her own?"

“Certainly, the funds and resources for our men will be provided by her Majesty.  Much like the majority of the men going the funds will come from the royal palace.  A few missing guards can be explained away with ease in a regiment of hundreds, money is even easier.  Enough supplies for fifty men have been arranged as well as a generous sum paid to Kunland for their gracious service.”     
 
The Viscount stopped for a moment to scratch his head before responding, “Oh, and of course you no doubt want to know why Ararllia has any interest in the matter at all.  To be frank, some of the nobles have become worried by the persistence of rumors concerning this Darkness, beyond that what we have learned through interaction with our allies has only escalated our worry.  For the moment our men mean to observe and to learn as much as is possible, if this Darkness is the threat professed measures should be taken.”

    A rough snort sounded from the shadows and Freg stepped in to the conversation, " I assure you, they will learn quickly."
    
    Silini bit her red lip as she recognized the restless tone that rang vibrantly out of Freg's throat.
    
    "Viscount," Silini began softly, "The darkness is no soft matter, and certainly worth more than a quick check up."
    
    "Perhaps you should pledge yourself or another of importance in regal courts to the expedition to convince your government," Freg continued deeply, "The darkness is not fond of warning its victims, so please hear mine."

The viscount shifted uncomfortably at that and somewhat hesitantly uttered, “Well…  I would not be of much help I assure you.”  The viscount rubbed his head uncomfortably before continuing a bit more confidently, “However, as for a noble going on the expedition it seems you may get that wish, her majestys cousin has taken that task upon himself much to the Queens vexation.   Concerning the darkness, well we will discover the truth of the matter soon enough.”

"Is he with the twenty?" Silini asked curiously, "What's his name?

“He is yes, though that is a dubious assertion at any given moment.  He tends to wander, I suppose thats a part of his personality and thats...  Well, there is a reason I am here in his stead.”  The Viscount sighed before continuing, “He would be Tersan Martus.”

"Will he listen to Freg?" Silini pondered to the Viscount, her large eyes glancing at the once again thinking minotaur.

The Viscount smiled and replied, “Listen?  Oh yes he’ll listen though whether or not he takes that information to heart is another matter.  I fear if you want him to take your word for true you would need more than an air of authority and a wizened look.  In my short experience if you tell him to do something he will either care enough to do it or go off in search of something that ‘interests him’ though I can’t imagine what he finds on those trips.”

Silini made a face, "This doesn't sound beneficial, at all really."

"I don't mean to offend, but this is a very sensitive and dangerous project," Silini rubbed her temples, "We'd rather not have any more challenges than necessary, are you sure sending him is wise at his current loyalty?"

    The Viscount understood Sillini’s position more than she knew and responded sympathetically, “Wise?  Truly I have no idea.  It was the sensitivity of the situation the Queen attempted to impress upon him from the moment he heard of this.  I fear that he understands well enough and yet still stubbornly insists upon going.  I have the idea that stubbornness comes due to one of the female Guards he was rather fond of signed up as well.  Unfortunately it seems the Queen eventually caved to his requests before I had that revelation, getting him to stay now would be task indeed."

"Quite frankly," Silini began, "This can be easily fixed before it causes any trouble, we can remove them both, can we not?"   

Silini looked over at the deep in thought Freg before turning her gaze back on the viscount, "You have no idea the horrors that await those who follow Father -- Freg, those who follow Freg into the cursed lands."

    "It would be foolish for me to let in someone who could easily and abrasively jeopardize everyones life and the worlds chance of redemption," emotion found its way to glaze over Silinis eyes and trembled her voice as she recalled what horrors she herself had seen and those described by her father.
    
    "I am trying to be sympathetic to the aid, dear Viscount, but Harnia and the World come before a single nobles romantic entanglement," Silini finished with a nod.
    
    “To speak candidly, I agree.  I anticipated this response well enough to make arrangements, though it will reflect poorly on me in court.  Still, I would rather he escape with his honour bruised rather than missing limbs.”  The Viscount sighed and continued, “I will remove both of them of course and tell the Queen you decided it would be best, a refusal from the Expeditions own command would be enough for her to bring him back promptly.  Of course that does leave us with the issue of you wanting a noble to come…  I may be able to convince one of my own younger brothers, having spent most his life in the military he is more than fit for it, beyond that he’s a trusted aid on the military council so I can see his word going a ways.  In any case I will ask him and dismiss her majesty’s cousin.”

    "I'm sorry for any issues that may come from the sudden replacement, " Silini said approvingly, "But I think the second canidate is more fit for the task."
    
    "Yes," Boomed the renewed and invigorated voice of Freg as he once more entered the conversation. The minotaurs eyes were no longer glossed but danced with a timeless youth behind the now burning coals that sat as his eyes.
    
    "A weak mind that is unwilling to follow proverb of the experienced is the Thartag's favorite toy," Freg said with a hefty accent while leaning on his mighty, magical axe that now shimmered as if the sun was hitting it at all angles.
    
    "So it is done,"Freg said as a smile broke from his face, causing Silini to smile back, relieved.
    
    "Your soldiers will march unnoticed to prove to your government that the darkness is not a silly story," Freg make a face as if he had tasted something horrible on the last words he spoke, "And your noble will lead them as he follows my advice, to prove the error of any misguided thoughts about the enemy."
    
   The Viscount was relieved that removing the Queens cousin was as easy as that, though he was a tad more scathing than he had to be.  Still, some people were not fit for tasks such as this.  “I can promise my brother will listen, as for convincing my government I know some will be more tractable than others, but if the evidence is as clear as you say I have no doubt the majority will consent to something being done.” 

 
   The Viscount smiled warmly.  Everything had gone to plan by now.  The appointment of his brother would put the information gained by this expedition into the hands of the military and out of the Queens.  Lords knew she would just sit idle on it as she had on the rebellion at her very doorstep.  Soon enough something would be done about that as well.
   
   "Then it is done," Freg bellowed heartily, "Let your men and women know to report to Kunlands Knight Commander who will report to me, or to me directly. This trip will be strenious and I want everyone ready before we take the first step of the march.
   
   Freg paused and leaned lower on his axe so that he was not towering above everyone, "They will need to be mentally as well as physically ready, perhaps retrained mentally if needed. The road ahead can make the supposed strongest of men wilingly walk off cliffs and unto their demise. I suspect a week or two of training to prepare oneself will have to suffice, as this journey cannot be delayed for too long. Then there is the task of aquainting the separant armies during the training. We must think as one, just as the Darthlukians."
   
   With a grunt to clear his throat Freg leaned back and straightened his posture, almost doubling his size, "So are we clear on what must be done?"

The viscount turned to Freg, “It seems so.  I will make all necessary preparations.”

"Good."

Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Missy
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Firesworth, Captial of the 19th clan

The center piece of Fireswroth was without question the citadel, a massive stone structure that stretched towards the heavens. According the accepted history of the 19th this fortress was built by the 1th clan during the age of greatness, it was used to apparently to cast great spells of glorious proportions that could create lakes of molten steel, combustion of the very air itself and turn anything in a living breathing clan member loyal to the first ones. The site of a rat mage standing on that giant pillar, calling out to its own gods must have been glorious. A truer symbol of clan might had to have never existed.

Now the tower served as keep and throne to whoever ruled the united clans. It had become dilated on the outside, as the march of time slowly corroded the outside, as to now take a color of green. However on the inside it was as strong as ever, if not stronger. The blanks that used to hold up the walls had been upgraded with iron, cold hard iron from the ground and swords of the clan’s enemies. The floors had traps placed for unwary and foolish, which ranged from simple pitfalls in to spikes, to fake treasure chambers with poised gold, which if one touched would infect the body with devious germs. It was indeed a fortress in the clan’s unusual style. It had extensive activity all day and night, as retainers, warriors and of course politicians all scurried along, every single one a plotter or a victim. The walls had small claw marks, since the rat kin had the ability to clime easily on the soft wood that made the inner wall, and some even preferred that to walking on the risky and heavily trapped ground. All around, in the shadows moved the shadow broods finest assassins, ready to pounce at the right target for the right sum. The mood was always paranoid efficiency, as each clan member strived to show themselves superior to the next.

Amerila had been here before… several times. She had played in these halls as a young child, first time she fell in to a trap was at the age of 6…she still bore a scar from one the pikes in the pit ripping her skin off. She from that day on had a fear for sharp objects, which while she had overcome now still haunted her slightly as she passed through the halls. As rules dictated no body guard was allowed inside, so her own had moved to the local barracks, no doubt starting fights with the Fresh brood and looking for weaklings to abuse. As was their right according to tradition. She however had business to attend to. The news had reached her during her travels of a expedition being launched, under the command of certain minotaur by the name of Gerntefs, Amerlia wondered if her mother would approve of sending a detachment to assist in such an in devour. For if successful with rat aid, the 19th clan could build up their currently poor reputation witch made her life as ambassador half impossible.

The center of the citadel was a massive round aula, with several seats made out of stone. In the center there was a table and a throne where the current ruler of the united tribe would be seated during the hearings and debate of the politicians. The system was very simple, a politician would make her case and others could debate it. When the ruler was happy with the debate she would either choose to vote about the motion or simply decree it herself. Since the nature of the rat’s was that it was, it often was more dependent on the proposer of the action then her arguments that decided what happened. As Amerlia entered a Rat stormed out of the room to the sound of laughter and cackling. Her proposal had to been defeated by the rest of the gathered. She quietly took a seat on the left side of the room as she waited until she was called by the Caller, a politician who called out the order of speakers. She had to wait for an hour.

’’Next….Ambassador Amerlia’’
’’Thank you Caller.’’ She stood up and went to the center, and noticed her mother. She had grown that was true. But she still had the same eyes of malice, and her body was still one of the finest in the clans land. Next to her old claws was the legendary Swamp Sword, with its green and almost rusty looking blade. Her fur had been cleaned and sparkled with the same green a grass field had instead of the normal swamp color. She also wore amour indoors, again tradition for rulers fearing backstabs always wore amour to avoid it. Amerlia saw that she had recently eaten something, as small morsels was stuck in her fur around her mouth.

Next to her however stood a true viper. Ghenna Mistress of shadow…the lady and master of the shadow brood and the finest assassin ever trained. Amerlia knew nothing of her past, only that she and her had played in the same pens when they were children…then by about the same time as she fell in to a pit she was removed from the clans land…she returned when Amerlia was an adult now a cold unfeeling assassin. Her fur had been dyed coal black to meld in to the darkness, and she wore black hoods where she could store hidden weapons and escape tools. While Mothers eyes burned with malice, Ghenna’s eyes where cold and unfeeling truly unnatural for anyone to see. Amerlia gave them both a nod, again custom dictated that so was the case, before she started with her speech.

’’I am not one to stand on ritual and ceremony without cause. The 19th clan faces more treat now then it has ever done. Our reputation is non-existent, our trade is weak and our foes a many.’’ The crowd started to grumble and mumble as she went on.
’’I have seen the lands outside ours with my own eyes. They hate us, the other races. The despise us and some simply want us off the map’’ A rat rose in response, fueled by anger
’’They are simpletons! How could they understand our struggles and hardships?! They don’t live of swamp and dirty water! They live in green hills and clean castles!’’. Amerlia expected such a selfish retort
’’Green hills have issues that are the same size and problematic nature as our own. We are not alone in that regard.’’ The other rat sat down somewhat bitterly

’’We are a race with a proud linage. We are also a race on the edge of forever disappearing. The Darkness…’’ As she mentioned the darkness several rats rose in protest again with several vocal comments
’’Ambassador well knows the Darkness would reach us in a hour if it so wished! The other races are not nearly in such a easily attacked spot!’’ Amerlia started to walk around the hall, gesturing as she talked.

’’Then why is an expiation being called? Why has the Minotaur Freg Gerntef called all to aid him if he does not fear the Darkness just as we do?!’’ She turns and steers at our mother
’’My proposal then is…. my Queen… is that we send a messenger with the humble question if they wish our aid in their endeavour. Before the protest rose again, The queen stuck her claws in to the air as to silence the politicians. She stood up from her throne and spoke. She had always had a charismatic voice, only slightly tinted by her own evil

’’As ruler of the clans I decree that this will be done. No vote will be held. So say I and so say all.’’.

The room quietly withdrew their angry protests and responded ‘’So say you and so say all’’

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