Member
@BrightSteel @Fury Panda
Nephish's grin remained unwavering, but internally, he was kind of relieved that someone had actually asked what phase two was.
"See, the elves are a monarchy, and a damn tightly controlled one at that. Their loyalty belongs..."
Nephish removed a vial of odd, blue sand from his satchel and smashed it on the ground. The sand swirled and spun before settling in a formation that appeared to be the likeness of an elven man, proud and noble.
"Is this spoiled little rodent, Arathion Tassarion. The elves hold him in very high esteem."
A sudden breeze blew the impromptu portrait away, leaving nothing, not even broken glass, where it once lay.
"My finest polymorphists will take advantage of the disarray caused by our attacks and infiltrate the local governance of the crown's holdings. From there, we can arrange a meeting between one of my embedded agents and this arrogant fop, and ambush him."
Nephish gestured grandly, arms flung out to both sides.
"Here, we deliver an ultimatum: cut all ties with the crown of Adarla and tear their forces to shreds or your beloved prince gets the axe."
Nephish lowered his arms and showed three of his claws, a sinister smile once again crawling up the sides of his face.
"This can lead to three possible outcomes:" Nephish said, gesturing to his index finger "One, the elves cannot come to a consensus and their disagreement escalates to a civil war, tearing both them and their allies to shreds."
Nephish gestured to his middle finger. "Two: the elves turn on the crown and our combined forces crush them utterly."
Finally, Nephish gestured to his ring finger, his tone positively giddy. "Or, three: The elves refuse to comply and we off the brat, leaving them confused, leaderless and cut off in a foreign land, and the crown without its trump card."
Nephish's grin remained unwavering, but internally, he was kind of relieved that someone had actually asked what phase two was.
"See, the elves are a monarchy, and a damn tightly controlled one at that. Their loyalty belongs..."
Nephish removed a vial of odd, blue sand from his satchel and smashed it on the ground. The sand swirled and spun before settling in a formation that appeared to be the likeness of an elven man, proud and noble.
"Is this spoiled little rodent, Arathion Tassarion. The elves hold him in very high esteem."
A sudden breeze blew the impromptu portrait away, leaving nothing, not even broken glass, where it once lay.
"My finest polymorphists will take advantage of the disarray caused by our attacks and infiltrate the local governance of the crown's holdings. From there, we can arrange a meeting between one of my embedded agents and this arrogant fop, and ambush him."
Nephish gestured grandly, arms flung out to both sides.
"Here, we deliver an ultimatum: cut all ties with the crown of Adarla and tear their forces to shreds or your beloved prince gets the axe."
Nephish lowered his arms and showed three of his claws, a sinister smile once again crawling up the sides of his face.
"This can lead to three possible outcomes:" Nephish said, gesturing to his index finger "One, the elves cannot come to a consensus and their disagreement escalates to a civil war, tearing both them and their allies to shreds."
Nephish gestured to his middle finger. "Two: the elves turn on the crown and our combined forces crush them utterly."
Finally, Nephish gestured to his ring finger, his tone positively giddy. "Or, three: The elves refuse to comply and we off the brat, leaving them confused, leaderless and cut off in a foreign land, and the crown without its trump card."
