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The midday sun lay shrouded as it often did on most days behind a veil of black ash clouds. The black smoke may have blocked out the light of the sky, but the land itself gave off enough illumination as not to leave western Karkarth mostly within darkness. Lava pools bubbled, and great mushrooms gave off eerie illumination that caused great shadows to bend away from them. The roads remained well-maintained thanks to the efforts of the Ixelin despite the near constant ash fall. Fortunate given the royal procession that was making its way toward Djerád Thymár proper. Word had spread fast of the visitors from the borders by way of drakenit flocks. The small creatures made quite capable message carriers in the ash wastes, being more adapted to harsh environments then meeker carrying pigeons.
It had not taken long for a local garrison to muster and meet with royal escort and providing it with a large screening force as they guided it to its destination. Markien (swordcaptian of the escort) had made the extra precautions to make use of gelded Carver mounts, as the beast were notoriously difficult to control around horses otherwise. Djerád Thymár itself was abuzz with activity, the news of the coming arrivals bringing rare excitement to the inhabitants. As most Jahun-ka, they had heard of their southern neighbors whom they affectionately referred to as ‘Little Chars’. Still they were rarely seen as they did not visit the capital city often, never mind their King.
When the retinue of King Vrox Ganelon and his escort came within sight of the city, all was ready. The great stone city rested at the foot of the imposing Dread Mountain; the largest volcano in Avara. The city was reachable by three great stone bridges that spread out like a crows foot and each lead to a gate. They were each built over the same massive natural moat of molten lava that resided sixty feet below, though on rare occasions the lava could raise higher. Like the cracks of a pane of glass, smaller rivers spread out from that moat, and stone platforms bridged the gaps where needed when these cracks would otherwise cross a segment of road.
The great walls of Djerád Thymár were as equally impressive as the giant it was built in the shadow of. For the construction of Djerád Thymár was such that it was built on four great levels, each climbing up and seeming to burrow into the mountain, and ringing each was built great walls of dark stone, and in each was a gate, with only the outer gate possessing three entryways. The gates beyond the outer walls however were not set in a line; the Ebon Gate that served as the center entry way was at the south point of the wall, but the next wall had it’s own gate facing half the easternmost entryway, and the third half facing the westernmost, and so to and fro upwards for the Jahun-ka were a judicious people and thus had built their entire fortress city with defence forthright in their mind; thus so the paved way that climbed toward the citadel turned this way and that and then back again across the face of the mountain climb.
Djerád Thymár was boasted as the Jahun-ka’s most glorious accomplishment, and this was shown upon every wall on the climb toward the cities heart, for effaced in stone were great works of art of uncompromising skill. So the final lap toward the great iron gate was at last made and the procession came to an end. The great gates were awoken and swayed open to permit entrance of King Vrox and his chosen retainers.
Swordcaptain Markien, their guide until this point, turned crisply in the saddle of his carver mount. He respectively inclined his head as he spoke. “Lord Vrox of Charlin, Vanquisher Tiberius would meet with you upon your ready. Should you wish to break-fast before words, accommodations can be made for you and your men at your convenience.” The men waited an answer, the helm he wore concealing all but his reddened eyes.
King Vrox was a very tall and pale man, as were Charlinites in general, usually towering over the other races, all races except the Jahun-ka, who stood a whole foot above the tallest Charlinite. So, as was due, he looked up literally to the swordcaptain, whose reptilian mount surpassed the size of his own horse.
Djerád Thymár
Captial of Karkarth
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------“I would be pleased to enjoy a Karkarthian breakfast, as I have heard many fine stories of how our honorable neighbors excel in all that they do, and would not ignore the chance to experience a dish made with the same care,” Announced the King of Charlin with regal pose and respectful tones. Vrox Galenon’s smile was deep, and he cared greatly to make a good impression, for it has been a long while since the two kings of the bordering countries managed to sit down together. So long in fact that the thick and harsh atmosphere of Karkarth was completely bizarre and alien to the King, but managed to perk his respect even more for the endurance strong natives of the harsh land that his own people referred to as their honor brothers and sisters.
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Lord Vanquisher Tiberius sat bedecked in his full regalia upon his high seat of stone; not a huge improvement from that iron seat that served as his throne. He wore his iron mask, a cowl of black cloth lined with a deep gold silk woven into the edges of the fabric and that ran up the center down the back. Unlike most occasions, he did not wear now his breastplate armor and gauntlets which served more a ceremonial role in any case.
The smell of burning incense was heavy in the room, giving the air here an almost sickening sweet quality to it to fight off the otherwise strong ash heavy air from the wastes that oftentimes held an almost brimstone quality to it. Here four braziers burned in each corner, and adding to that light was a ceiling affixed chandelier of candles. Four large round-topped windows posted at the rear of the room offered little in ways of light themselves, for once again the sun only gave a few brief glimpses of itself from behind clouds of black. A true shame Tiberius mused as the view here was spectacular when the weather cooperated.
The Chamber of Campaigns served as both a room for war councils, or as the cause would be now, more private meetings when necessary. It served as Tiberius’s favorite room in all the citadel. The center room was dominated by a great long table, one enchanted long ago by a Drathan wizard too, at command, reveal an extremely detailed map of Avara. It gave only landmarks, not armies, cities, or fleets. Yet was useful all the same.
Tiberius had chosen this place to meet specifically for very good reason. Away from the trappings of court the prying eyes of others and the reminders of rulership he sought to meet with his honored brother of the south on equal terms. Such was the Jahun-ka way that titles and crowns meant little in comparison to action and merit. Few understood honored earned not given as well as among the other races of men as the Charlinites.
‘Next Day’
Chamber of Campaigns
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It was after much after dawn of the next day following the arrival of King Vrox that everything was fully ready for the meeting of the two leaders. As his guide, a young maiden of rare lithe frame among the Jahun-ka (though still a head taller then he), escorted Vrox to the meeting room. Men in the classic armored plate of Karkarthian make who stood guard at each entryway saluted King Vrox on his approach; gauntleted fist beating steel breastplates. Upon the walls here and there were adorned tapestries of battles and wars long since past. Soon they at last reached a great archway entrance. This chambers portal was a rarity, fashioned of oakwood and bronze hinges.
The young lass with bright brown eyes turned and said, “Lord Vanquisher will see you, he has asked your guards need not follow within and may await you here if it pleases you.”
“They may even retire to their chambers if they so wish, I know I am in good honorable hands,” King Vrox smiled politely, crinkling the lines that were beginning to show at the corners of his eyes, a clear sign of his higher middle age.
Vrox adjusted his circlet styled crown upon his long jet black hair as he pushed through the doors. The incense of the brightly lit room hit the Kings nostrils hard, but was a well-welcomed change from the scent of sulfur and ash. Upon seeing the Scorched king sitting in wait for him across a long and aged table, Vrox removed his crown as a sign of mutual honor and placed it on the table before taking his seat across from the large monarch.
In comparison to Tiberius’ attire, the Charlinite wore simple regal clothes of purple and white, with a dark cape cloaking his shoulders. The king tugged on his short black beard and nodded at Tiberius politely.
“May I first compliment you on your very hospitable chefs and servants of your home,” Vrox asked with contentment.
"You honor me Lord Vorx, I am pleased you enjoyed yourself. Master Chief Orridon will be even more pleased to hear it.” Tiberius gestured to the chalice and bottle of a dark purple beverage near Vorx. “Pekha wine, another gift from Orridon, it is a rather weak spirit so you need not worry of it dulling the senses.” After a short pause he added. “I trust your trip through the waste was not wholly unpleasant? The light dust storms and the stink of the sulfur pits takes much getting used to I fear.”
“I must be honest,” Vrox began as he lifted the chalice to his lips, “My sense are unused to the scolding ash, but it is of no concern to me, I am pleased to be allowed such an audience at little notice.”
The Charlinite took a sip of the wine and nodded in agreement with the taste, “This is delicious, and much softer on the tongue than some of the harsher imports I’ve tasted.”
“So I assume you might have some idea of the motivation behind my visit?” Vrox Galenon asked after another sip.
Tiberius inclined his head in a slight nod of understanding. “Indeed- it is no secret of holy Justinian’s will regarding the collapse of Somnus Imperium’s power and fall from grace. Their short-sighted in-fighting further brings shame on us all, and it would indeed be the will of Takataren to bring order to such chaos.” Tiberius leaned back lacing the fingers of his mighty hands together. “However, I must also consider the risk of this plague to my people. Your warriors have had much more experience with this vile sickness than any in Karkarth. I would seek your knowledge on this topic and see fears amended, or falling short of that, arm mind with knowledge toward wises course.”
Vrox left his cup by his crown and nodded, “The plague spreads mysteriously, many of the Paladins that comb the land purging it claim it is airborne from the infected and cultists, both of which are burnt quickly to prevent such further infections. However, it is only dangerous to those who ignore every detail, and I assure you, both our great nations do no such thing. If I were to ask for your help in the matter, it would be for a full offensive into the plagued lands to set up a border, protecting our countries from further spread, ideally protected by a great wall, not of which to hide behind, but to preserve our lands to fund a complete purge of the area. The Paladins honed a protocol when dealing with the possibility of infections and would brief your given warriors in the preventions. Of course such help if given would most likely come at a price, and I am willing to set up a fair bargain for a dear brother in honor.”
Tiberius was silent for a time, still and unmoving as his eyes seemed to look past Vrox entirely. The only sounds within the chamber was the crackle of the fires. Suddenly he awoke from his reverie and spoke. “Then it is as I have feared, and perhaps Grand Archon Shurdan is right in her suspicions as well.” He stopped suddenly and looked directly into Vrox’s eyes. “There is an old warning of sorts within the dragon teaching of my people. Speaking of a great malice like sickness that turns brother against brother. Such a thing must be crushed under heel before it can be allowed to grow and fester. Yet, I will not have our brothers and sisters of Charlin bear this burden alone. Neither will I send my people into a fruitless situation.”
“There is an old order to the Dragon Goddess that follows many of the old ways here in Karkarth, though they still do not openly accept Justinian as one of the first elder sprites. Their teachings have not caused subversion so they have been allowed their existence. My people tell me they have been gathering support for an expedition of shorts. Not one into the plaguelands, but one that seeks to find a cure spoken of in the prophecy. Karkarth will stand with Charlin come strom or hell, yet I would ask one thing of you. The paladins of Charlin stand well versed in matters of this dream plague, and among those who stand taller still in skill. I would wish your most talented to join this expedition, and fire willing, strike a blade into the heart this mystery.”
“As blood from my own veins, I will give you all you need to see your expedition a success, provided you return the favor with soldiers fit to defend our borders against the plague in the mean time. I will speak to my brother Marc immediately in the matter as well, as he is honor bound to serve my wishes, he will provide the Paladins help in this quest,” Vrox answered as he pulled on his beard in thought.
“Together,” He said with authority, “With Charlinite zeal, Karkarthian steel, and Justinian’s heel, we will stand victorious before our crumbling opposers to wipe away all who do not kneel to the codes of honor, and whatever dares plague our lands.”
“We are in agreement.” Came Tiberius’s echoing reply. “Good. The hosts of Karkarth will be assembled, and shall march with their Charlin brothers to victory.”