Chronicles of Aldelor IC

[Nyq]

Vethenia
Day 13, Month 7 of the Tenth Year in the 500th Convergence Cycle.

• The University

• 
  
  
  Population: 3
  Economy:2.5
  Military Might: 4+8
  Technological Advancements: 5
  Citizen Happiness: 0
  

• The University
• The Undead
• Unification

• 
  It has been ten years since Herphaeus was chosen as king by his current companion fairy. Throughout the years, the small village that was Cantobreses had grown into something more. Walls were built, buildings were upgraded, roads were paved, and as the village grew into a fledgling town, people from all corners of Vethenia had moved into it, seeking an opportunity to make a fortune from its' growth.
  
  This day, Herphaeus woke up with a smile on his face. Why? Because the university he had commissioned years ago is finally complete, and today is the day it shall be unveiled to the world. It might be small, it's facilities might be lacking, and it's libraries might not even have half of the books that it's rivals had in their collections, but it is HIS university. Ever since the man had started his journey of enlightenment, he had always wanted to pass on his knowledge, leave a mark on the world, and the gods above had gave him more than he wanted. Not only that he has his own university now, he had also found himself ruling over a small, but prosperous realm in the center of Vethenia as of now referred to as the Confederacy of Cantobreses. The war between Direnzzes and Littocenes had saw an expansion of Herphaeus' realm as his forces liberated numerous villages from their Littocenian overlords, not to mention the riches that they gained in the war that had been used in building up the fledgling nation. While his realm is certainly nowhere close to being as powerful as one of the city states, it's far from the mere bunch of united villages it used to be. Each of the villages under Herphaeus' rule are defended by simple walls, and linked to each other via a network of roads. Some of them are even armed with cannons to deter foreign attackers.
  
  As Herphaeus made his way to the small building that would become the Cantobresian Institute of Natural Sciences, he once again mentally recited the opening speech, which was prepared by Messaline weeks prior. His hands were wet with sweat, and his steps grew more and more nervous the closer he got to the building, but he's nonetheless extremely excited of what was about to come. The open ground in front of the building was packed with people, townsfolk that were notified that their mayor was about to make a speech about something and curious enough to see what it's all about. Herphaeus stood behind an old podium, used ever since the early days of the nation. Even though the wood is showing clear signs of rot, the man had never thought about changing it, as he sees no point doing so.
  
  "I see that all of you have assembled for this auspicious day, my fellow citizens. I am pleased to announce that today shall see the opening of the Cantobresian Institute of Natural Sciences!" Herphaeus spoke loudly with a wide smile on his face. He then proceeded to promise that the institution shall be open to all sentient beings, that great contributions shall be made towards the progress of civilization, that it shall provide education to all for free. He then introduced the staff, all scholars of the natural sciences from all corners of the region enthusiastic about the idea of spreading their knowledge to the common people, except for the janitors, who were just townspeople hired for the purpose. Ending the speech with the fact that enrollment starts now, Herphaeus watched in satisfaction as a few townspeople cautiously made their way to the enrollment booth and wrote their names. This is surely the start of a new page in Cantobresian history.
  
• 
  "Palymros, I've been waiting for your return from the realm of Arran'ak. Do you have anything in particular to report?" Herphaeus looked up from the pile of papers on his table.
  
  "Sir Herphaeus, I had managed to make a deal the king of Arran'ak in return for their military support. However, there is one thing of concern regarding the nation."
  
  "What is it?"
  
  "They're all dead."
  
  
  Herphaeus looked at the undead army slowly marching down the road leading into Cantobreses. The townsfolk would had panicked upon noticing their skeletal visages, had said army not be holding a flag with the Cantobresian coat of arms on it, alongside the flag of Arran'ak.
  
  "I see what you meant, Palymros. This is indeed a matter of concern. Your Ladyship, any thoughts?"
  
  "Having an army of undead serving under you may bring forth accusations of necromancy, my lord. While the Vethenian people may not have any particular aversion to the living dead, I'm afraid that said accusations might affect your diplomatic reputation, making it harder for you to conduct diplomacy, if not outright impossible. However, the risk of an invasion from the city states grows larger over time if we do not take action, and we could not afford the time it would take to assemble an army of that size, my lord. Besides, the living dead may also demoralize the enemy, making any battle easier to fight, and as our troops grow accustomed to their presence, they may gain an edge over the undead if we ever come to blows in the future. I would suggest you to accept their service."
  
  "Well, that seems like a fair trade, Your Ladyship. I would personally love to study the undead, these creatures are truly fascinating, they live, yet they aren't. Maybe I should personally head to Arran'ak in the future, to unveil any secrets they might have. That's assuming that I have the time, that is. Open the gates and let them in."
  
  
• 
  The Cantobresians marched against the foe, alongside the undead from the far north. Messaline's words were proven to be true, the enemy fled as soon as they saw the masses of the living dead marching against them, and so far, they had been able to conquer large swathes of lands from the city states. However, the enemy also accused Herphaeus for necromancy, and all the city states of Vethenia are now united against a single foe. This day, the Cantobresian army found itself at battle with the largest army ever assembled in Vethenian history ever since the invasion of the Sarogoths. Hundreds of trees were cut down by both sides in the weeks leading to the battle. Various banners and coat of arms were proudly displayed by the enemy lines, from those of the rich port city of Raguzios to the famed city of Sparucius, even those of their old supporters, the city of Direnzzes can be found on the other side. However, the Cantobresians pressed on, as they knew that they had no choice. The realm of Vethenia must be united once again, no matter what it takes. Only then, may a new chapter in Vethenian history may begin. Only then, may the common people enjoy peace and prosperity under the rightful lord of the realm, Herphaeus Magnus.
  
  A sergeant shouted for his men to get in formation, as both sides marched against each other with their weapons at hand. Cannon fire boomed behind the ranks of the soldiers, sending cannonballs flying directly into the ranks of the enemy. Those that were hit found their body parts scattered across the ground as well as onto any of their comrades unfortunate enough to be near them, in a cloud of blood and gore. Before both sides even got into the range of firearms, the battleground is already soaked with blood and ichor, and it would only get worse as time passed.
  
  The columns of men halted their steps in unison. They are now close enough to unleash their firearms on each other. Guns were unslinged from the shoulders of men and pointed towards the other side. One of the sergeants deeply inhaled before yelling at the top of his lungs. "Fire!" The men obeyed the order and pulled the trigger, unleashing a wave of death onto the enemy. Many of the enemy dropped dead on the ground, but even more still stood, and they fired back, and many good men of the Cantobreses dropped onto the ground. While both sides reloaded their rifles, the undead mercenaries of Arran'ak continued marching forward, knowing no fear nor pain.
  
  "Focus on the undead, don't let them get near our lines!" came an order from the enemy lines, a grave mistake indeed, as the undead cannot fire back at this range, but the Cantobresians could. Another wave of bullets were unleashed by both sides, leaving many dead on the ground. However, the undead suffered little casualties, as most of the enemy fire found the wrong spots on their skeletal bodies, while many of the enemy dropped dead from the fire of the Cantobresian guns. The undead continued their relentless march, and the enemy was beginning to show terror on their faces. Some fled, and were shot dead by their comrades, but even more stood where they are, fiddling with their weapons in an attempt to reload faster. Waves of fire continued to be unleashed by both sides, but it was becoming obvious that the enemy is faltering as the undead got closer and closer to their lines.
  
  The enemy unleashed one last volley, before the undead had finally got into range. The skeletal archers stood where they are, unleashing a storm of arrows onto the relatively unarmoured lines of the enemy, while their comrades marched onwards. Even more of the enemy wavered and fled, and it became apparent that a mass rout was about to happen if something was not done. Unfortunately for them, the Cantobresians noticed that and a purple flag was waved.
  
  "Charge!" The Cantobresian cavalry corp emerged from the remaining forests and charged towards the flanks of the enemy. While their numbers were laughable, it didn't matter to the terrified foe. All that mattered was that they were flanked, and that was the last straw for them. A mass rout happened on the enemy side, as every man tried to flee the battlefield before they either fell to the blades of the undead, or the sabres of the Cantobresian cavalry. However, there are still those who decided to fight to the end, who fixed their bayonets and charged towards the lines of undead in front of them, all the while yelling battlecries and prayers to the gods. They stood valiantly against the unliving foe, yet bayonets are not designed to hold up in melee battle, especially against foes that specialize in melee combat. One by one, these brave men were cut down by the skeletal mercenaries, and it didn't took long before the battle was over. The largest army ever seen in Vethenia was defeated, and the Cantobresians celebrated their triumph with a battlecry.
  
  "Victory!" they yelled as they raised their weapons high up in the air. The battle of Haradenes was an astounding victory, and they left behind their massive artillery arsenal too. All that stood against the Cantobresians now are the walls of the enemy cities. Yet, this was only the beginning of the Unification War. The next few years would be spent outside city walls, as each city desperately tried to stop the Cantobresians from entering their beloved cities. Unfortunately for them, the news of defeat, as well as the presence of the undead had demoralized the garrisons, and each siege became a race against time to break down the city walls before the enemy could receive reinforcements. The city of Direnzzes was the first to fall, followed by Littocenes, and Tyrenocus, and many others. Eventually, the Cantobresian army found themselves beneath the walls of Sparucius, a city famed for their military prowess. A fierce battle was waged under, on, and over the walls of the city, as the brave men of Sparucius fought valiantly against the besiegers. However, Cantobresian guns and Arran'ak's unliving eventually broke their their defenses, sending the enemy fleeing into their castle, where they were cut down to the last men.
  
  "Sir Herphaeus, we had taken the city of Sparucius." a sergeant saluted the mayor before he reported.
  
  "This is the last one, is it correct?"
  
  "Yes, sir."
  
  "Well, I'm glad the carnage is finally over. The people had suffered too much for their unification. I would like to address the people from the castle of Sparucius. it is time to give the people what they deserved." The old man stood up from his chair and said.
  
  "Of course, sir. I shall lead the way."
  
  "Thank you, Sergeant.'
  
  
  Herphaeus found himself addressing a massive crowd, larger than any he had ever spoke to. His heart was beating very fast, and his hands were sweating beyond control, but he couldn't afford to falter, as his people now need a leader, not a nervous man standing in front of them.
  
  "To all the people of Vethenia, I'll try to be brief with my speech today, as I know that many of you are tired and are not in a state of listening to long speeches. To start this off, I am very sorry for all the violence that you had to suffer over the course of the long-awaited unification of the realm of Vethenia, but with the liberation of Sparucius, I can now announce that the realm of Vethenia is united once again ever since the rule of King Larusodes the Third. We now stand united for the first time in three centuries! No longer shall we be looked down by our neighbours as a realm ruled by feuding cities and scheming politicians, no longer shall the people be disregarded and treated no better than common serfs, and no longer shall ignorance prevail in our beloved motherland. No more! Today, I proclaim the founding of the Enlightened Kingdom of Vethenia! Starting from now, we shall be the heart of enlightenment, we shall spread enlightenment across the world, we shall be the shield of civilization against all that threatens it! The people of each city may choose their rulers, and it is from those rulers, that we select a king from. The elections shall start in three months across the nation, and I hope that you have a candidate to cast your votes for by then. For now, I shall end my speech and let you guys rest. Have a good day."
  
  Herphaeus slowly walked into the castle, finding Messaline looking at him approvingly.
  
  "My lord, you had just delivered a great speech."
  
  "Thank you, Your Ladyship. Without your aid, we wouldn't had come this far. To be able to unite the disparate realm of Vethenia was something I ddidn't even dare to think of, yet today....we finally stand united."
  
  "It is only through your hardwork that all of this was able to happen, my lord. Now, please have some rest, I can see that you're exhausted."
  
  Herphaeus nodded, and headed towards the bedrooms. With Vethenia now united, there would be more work to come, and he needs that rest.
  

It's Convergence time

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Unnamed Narrator
Thus another Convergence Cycle passes in the Chronicles of Aldelor.

Obeying Auberon, king of the fairy’s, call for new potential monarchs to be brought to the holy land of Kingmakers, the fairies Lillare ( Bone2pick ) , Lizabeth ( Sylvio ), Lady Lake ( Elucid ), Luxus ( QuirkyAngel ), Messaline ( Nyq ), and Astarot ( OverconfidentMagi ) all bring their respective kings to the Fairy Realm. Some of these young kings meet their would-be-fairies for the first time, displaying much confusion and fear, while others had met their fairies prior and handle the situation with much more grace. Some had doubts. Others had no choice. Regardless, each make an oath to their chosen kings (or at least secured the king’s agreement) to create a bond that would strengthen both fairy and kingdom.

Following Xir’ain’s agreement, Astarot, a deviant from her kind, chooses to break some fairy rules in order to save his dying species from the clutches of Epsil’tal and Sel’vetal following the death of their god. She creates for them a home in Blackwell, teaching them how to hunt as well as many other things as they struggle to survive in a new and unfamiliar realm—hunted by an enemy that wishes them dead. However, a deal with the Mermaid Queen Harii as well as an encounter with the new ‘imp’ race would bring hope to the leviathans. Choosing a king randomly from a race marked for death at least at least alleviates Astarot some of her boredom.

Luxus, who chose Annabelle O’Faris randomly, believing his own luck, struggles to clear his queen of her doubts. He shows her where he keeps his stash of savings, saying that a queen must be wealthy and believing that she can make the best use of the funds he will provide to buy herself queenship.

In contrast to the other two, Messaline, who chose Herphaeus for his love of knowledge, guides her new king to building his kingdom from scratch as he has no wealth or royal blood to his name. With her help, he gathers some villagers together to form a city state of his own in Vethenia. However, they aren’t without difficulties as enemies surround them from all sides.

While new kingdoms struggle to form, old kingdoms also progress. In the land of the dead, Arran’ak ( Karcen ), necromancers raise the deceased and trade with nearby gorgons. The Jade Empress ( MrThe )builds the Grand Cathedral of Knowledge. The Sacred Grove ( Mirgris )fortify their defenses as their king slumbers. Love is also in the air with the awakening of the Dawn Queen and treefolk celebrating their holiday of match-making.

King Kul’tir, knowing about the new kings and wanting further diplomatic relationships, has his people research airships and sends notices world-wide to reveal that his dead are available to for hire. It is Vethenia that responds positively. Having agreed to assist Direnzzes against Littocenes in exchange for guns and engineers, the assistance of the dead greatly helps in this endeavor. However, allying with the dead brings its own troubles as Herphaeus’s territory faced off against enemy after enemy of city states who opposed his alliance with the Arran’ak’s undead. Nonetheless, with the help of Arran’ak’s dead army, the unification of Vethenia was achieved.

10 years later the Cantobresian Institute of Natural Sciences is built.

Many stories remain untold, however to document all in a single chapter is an impossible goal. Yet many questions are still unanswered. What sort of changes will the new kings bring to Aldelor? Will world peace be achieved? Will Annabelle become a good queen? What is Astarot planning? Stay tuned for the next chapter in the Chronicles of Aldelor to find out (maybe).

*cues the ending theme*
​

GM Message

Congratulations for the successful completion of the first arc!

Might not seem like such a big achievement with only 25 posts, but you have no idea how many rps struggle to even get through an arc let alone finish one. Awesome job guys and thank you from the bottom of my heart! Some of you might not be staying, but regardless your post does help to bring down the count and adds to Aldelor's history. For the completion of an arc, every player that has made at least one post gets 10 free stat points to distribute as they please for the second one (obviously your kingdom had to have done something within 10 years even if they didn’t take center stage).

The end of a 10 year arc means the cs is open for revamping. New pictures can be added. New powers. Did your character grow? Did their appearance change? Is there a new king now? Did your fairy learn some new tricks with the growth of the kingdom? Did your king learn something during these 10 years? Feel free to add all that to their bio and more for in preparation for the second arc!

In addition, I’ve decided to give an award to the MVP of each arc for kingdoms that created the best story for the readers to read. A kingdom doesn’t just grow on achievements, but also adversity, struggles, and experiences. Those willing to rp out the struggles and dramas of their nations deserve points just as much as the ones that try to earn them. And I don’t mean just saying it happened, but showing it happened. That’s what people like to read after all. So, without further ado, 10 additional stat points are awarded to

Spoiler: MVP

LEVI'ANTH​

OverconfidentMagi
You made me love Astarot and Xir’ain. Their interactions were a joy to read and the npcs are well-developed and added a lot to Aldelor’s lore regarding the sea. I’m looking forward to where Levi’anth will go from here.

But there were some close contenders as well, which will get 5 points each. Though they didn't get the mvp award they either made some really good posts or help promote drama in some way.

Spoiler: Honorable mentions

Vethenia​

Nyq
Herphaeus’s struggles were nice and the unification of Vethnia was well written. Can’t wait to see which nation will send their children to his university in the next arc^^

Arran'ak​

Karcen
Still didn’t get to see as much of Azelea as much as I’d hoped, but this for character interactions and bringing drama. Vethenia’s unification wouldn’t be as good without the undead.

And so now ya'll have to wait until I start the next arc. Here's a bit of a preview while you wait^^

​

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Act 2: The First Convergence

TROTOPOLIS
Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Cycle. ​

Nation's Stats
Population: 4
Economy: 7
Military Might: 2
Technological Advancements: 2
Citizen Happiness: 3

Queen Annabelle of Trotopolis stood in her chambers, feet on a stool, while her handmaids helped her get ready for the Convergence of Kings. Brushing her hair. Fixing her dress. Whoever said beauty was easy lied. Annabelle had spent hours being manhandled by her personal ladies, trying on exotic perfumes and swapping from one piece of jewelry to the next. The girls couldn’t seem to agree on what suited her the best. Not that it mattered in the long run. Regardless of little details, the mirror before her showed a woman she would’ve hardly recognized when she was younger.

It was strange how quickly 10 years had flown by. She didn’t think herself capable of creating a nation at first. Yet, here she was…twenty five years old and the leader of her own people. The one everyone looked to when they had problems.

Truthfully, there were others much more suited to the task than she. Trotilhaus’een was wiser and had more knowledge. Same with Pyros and Rowan. Jerick was strong. Ligora was skilled enough to build a fortress. All she did was gather them together—people who could help to build her kingdom of Trotopolis.

Yet they all looked to her for the final decisions.

These people, who she deeply respected, put their faith in her—a little girl who didn’t know what she was doing most of the time.

Annabelle didn’t want to let them down.

Trotopolis might’ve been a new kingdom. She might not be a very experienced queen. But, even so, it was her that represented her nation in the upcoming gathering of kings. Therefore she had no intention of making a fool of herself or letting another nation’s ruler walk over her.

“What should I expect when I get there?”

“Oh…lots of showboating, royals arguing with each other about how the world should be run, subtle snubs at each other, you know—everything you’d expect from a gathering of the world’s leaders~”

Annabelle turned to glance at Luxus who was scribbling something down on his ledger. Taking account the cost of the dress and their remaining budget, no doubt. He’d become more of a miser ever since the kingdom was founded. “That...doesn’t sound much fun.”

“I imagine not. But the Convergence of Kings is a long-held tradition and one of the reasons that this world has maintained relative peace for so long. I’d go as far as to say it’s one of the core cogs that keeps this world running smoothly. If kings and queens do not meet to discuss their differences there would be much more turmoil. The world wouldn’t be as evolved as it is now. Racial differences would incite war. Fairies would hurt one another. It’s something we fairies see all the time…and why His Majesty Auberon, calls for the convergence every 10 years. ”

As a peasant in Candor, Annabelle hadn’t even known about the of Covergence of Kings, let alone the existence of the fairy realm. Or the fairy that lived in Candor. Such were the secrets of the Candor royal family—or so she’d been told. Every realm operated a little bit differently. Some fairies didn’t like to appear before humans. However, since becoming a ruler of her very own kingdom, she’d become much more exposed to the workings of the world. Races beyond the ones she’d known. Backdoor deals and alliances between fellow rulers. It was a lot to take in.

“That, or Auberon just wants to check up on us.” Luxus concluded. “I can’t claim to read the mind of one so old and wise as he.”

“Lord Auberon must care a lot about the fairies.”

“That’s how I like to see it at is at well.”

An odd answer. “Do you think the king of Vethenia will be there? I want to know how Trey’s doing.”

The island she’d chosen to build her kingdom wasn’t too far from Vethenia so she’d heard news of the unification. However, she had too busy with her own kingdom to pay it much mind. Her brother seemed to take an interest though—young scholar that he was. When the Cantobresian Institute of Natural Sciences was recently built, opened up for all races, he begged her to let him attend. She missed him already…annoying little know-it-all though he was.

“Probably. Messaline is brilliant, but she isn’t the type to break a long held tradition. Astarot though? I’d be surprised if she even shows up. Haven’t heard from her since the calling of kings.”

“Astarot?”

“Black, shifty thing. She doesn’t like to stay in one form for very long, but you should’ve seen her in the day you were brought to the fairy realm 10 years ago. She was in the throne room.

“You fairies have good memories, don’t you.” Annabelle giggled. “That’s why you always seem to remember how much people owe you.”

“You humans just have short memory,” Luxus retorted. “I—,”

There was knock on her chamber doors. It was followed by a slight creak as the double doors opened, revealing a handsome man with a baby dragon on his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, your Highness. Minister Luxus,” Jerick, the general of her Land army, nodded at both of them. He leaned against the entrance to her chambers, an amused smile on his lips . “But Prince Salim and the fairy, Tirius, have arrived.”

“Not King Aedeus?”

“Aedeus has fallen ill and is bedridden, or so I hear, and the first prince is busy taking up his new responsibilities to the kingdom. That leaves just Prince Salim to attend this colloquy of kings with you. He assures me he’s been to convergences before and that he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. ”

“Lucky you~”

“It’s not like that!” Annabelle flushed.

Jerick chuckled. “Try not to make Trotopolis look bad, My Queen. We’ll hold a banquet when you and Minister Luxus return. The cooks are already brewing up a feast from what I saw when I passed the kitchen.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Another excuse to throw a party no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

Still, Annabelle smiled. Regardless of whether her people partied in celebration of Trotopolis’s first representation in the Convergence of Kings or because they simply liked to party, Annabelle had grown fond of them and they of her. It was a far cry from when she started out.

Stepping down from the stool, Annabelle thanked the two handmaids before nodding at Luxus. It was time to go.

THE FAIRY REALM
Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Cycle​

The masked man watched as, one by one, the fairies and kings made their appearance in the Fairy Realm. For some, it was the land where their journey of kingship began. For others, it was simply a custom. An age-old tradition set forth by their forefathers. Regardless, Auberon would’ve sent a mental invitation to every fairy, showing them an image of where the next gathering would be held and expected arrival time.

The Elysian Garden.

An expansive field with many colored flowers, trees, and crystal clear water. Climbing up the stone steps they would encounter a clearing surrounded by stone pillars and, at the center of the clearing, a simple large round table for every nation’s representative to sit and discuss if they so desire.

Truthfully, the setting seemed more suiting for a tea party than a grand meeting of the world’s leaders in his mind, though he wasn’t about to question Auberon’s tastes any time soon.

The masked man waited for the chatter to drop to a relatively moderate level before speaking.

“Due to some unexpected circumstances, Fairy King Auberon will not be able to attend today’s gathering. Therefore I’ll be acting in his place as the mediator for this cycle’s convergence. Otherwise the rules remain the same as always. One, as all fairies are equal in the eyes of his Highness Auberon, all nations, large or small, are equal within the Fairy Realm. Two, no violence shall be permitted in the sacred realm of kingmakers. Disputes ought be handled in a reasonable manner or settled outside the realm. Three, any fairy or fairy property encountered while in this realm should be treated with respect. Most fairies have been warned to keep out of the garden for the duration of the convergence, but you might still find a couple fluttering about here and there.”

A snap of his fingers caused a parchment to appear out of thin air. A flick of his wrist and the parchment attached itself onto one of the surrounding columns. “The rules will be posted for those that can’t remember. Those that can’t read basic Aldelorian script will have to rely on their fairy’s guidance. That said,” The masked man brought his right hand to his heart and gave a deep bow. “Welcome, Kings and Queens of Aldelor, to the 501st Convergence of Kings.”


GM Message: And so we begin again! For those who want to attend, teleport your character in the fairy realm (preferablely where the meeting takes place), but I’m not a stickler if you’ve got your own plans. Those that don’t want to attend can make a post doing whatever. However, I will be more of a stickler for post requirements this time around:

• Nation name
• Nation stats
• Date. This will make it easier for me to organize when it comes to summarizing and easier for players that want to jump into a particular scene to do so

All of this is required for the post to count, so please don’t forget. As always, the dice will determine how long this arc lasts. I’ll reroll if the number is too little in my mind.

OverconfidentMagi , Karcen , Nyq , MrThe , Mirgris , KamiKahzy , Elucid , Sylvio , general ostruppen

 

[KamiKahzy]

• Introductions
• The Convergence

• 
  
  ShendorahTrade City of Landover​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 1, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  The commoners that live on the northern shores of Vethenia look out across the waves with fear in their hearts. For there, beyond the Azure Sea, lies the mega-island of Shendorah. An inhospitable place riddled with high mountains and stagnant bogs, with seldom few valleys between. The weather is often wet with near continuous rainfall throughout the year, its vast timber forests that grow up in the peaks some of its only natural bounty. The beasts that live in the wilds have adapted to this harsh land and thrive off its limited resources. Those that live in the 'civilized' places also learned to adapt, but in a much more violent manner. Raiders and pirates stalk the Azure Sea in force, ready to strike any unsuspecting ship or village they come across. The Shendorans come quickly, take what they will, and leave nothing but blood and smoke in their wake.
  
  However some enclaves of raiders eventually managed to band together under a common cause. They began to pool their ill-gotten gains, and from this were able to build a free city for their own use. Tucked away in a small cove on Shendorah's western shores is Landover, a trade city of great renown and ill repute. Merchant ships from this unseemly port travel all across Aldelor, often returning with their holds overflowing with riches and exotic goods. Over time their wealth and influence grew, and now people throughout the world speak of its dark wharfs and smoky parlors lined with secret wonders. A city of wealth, mystery, and murder, for a power struggle looms over the city as various group vie for more control and more profit. In fact the infighting is so prolific that a high-profile murder occurs almost every day, about as often as the rains come through.
  
  And it was today that those rains had come in force, gifting the perfect cover for dark deeds of all sorts. Water fell from the sky in torrents, battering against a myriad of shanties floating among a maze of docks and wharfs. Where the docks met the land were a series of naturally formed caverns, and inside were dozens of buildings and establishments built with reasonable regard for structural integrity. Above the caverns were shelves hewn into the stone by tradesmen and slaves alike, upon which sat the true seats of power. The wealthiest and most powerful of Landover lived in these structures, supported by stone and wooden stilts wedged into the rock below. A bolt of lightning pierces the sky, just barely illuminating a tiny figure scampering across the treacherous roofs.
  
  The figure is small, barely a few feet tall, and wrapped in a blue-gray cloak. The thick material serves to both keep off the rain and mask the figure's appearance. Nimbly it skipped and jumped from roof to roof, showing inhuman finesse at this impossible task. Any other creature would have fallen to their death on the slick, sheer wooden planks, but the figure pressed on completely unhindered. It was slowly making its way down, following a unique path that seemed erratic but was steadily bringing the figure down towards the docks. Eventually it hopped off the last ledge, sliding down the last few feet of stone and landing nimbly on an empty stretch of dock. Without missing a beat it began to walk quickly towards its destination, as if it were simply another passerby trying to get out of the rain. It wound its way down docks and around soaking shacks until it came to a small ship, just large enough to house a crew of six or so. The word Fortuna was carved into the wood on its nameplate, carefully nailed in place on the stern. It wasn't a grand ship, but it was well made and sturdy. And that suited its owner just fine.
  
  Without a sound the figure stepped onto the gangplank and made its way to the stern cabin, opening the door and ducking inside out of the rain. Only when the door was fully closed did the figure relax, hunching slightly and letting out a long sigh of relief. The figure lifted its hands to inspect them, 'tsk'ing unapprovingly at the flecks of blood still stuck to its fur. The target had bled more than he'd expected, that last turn in his sleep had put the knife straight into the artery instead of the windpipe. Of course the rolls of fat had made finding his mark difficult regardless. The figure reached up and unclasped the cloak's pin holding it in place, dragging it off his body in one smooth motion.
  
  The figure beneath the cloak was a ratkin, essentially a large rat that stood upright and was capable of speech. But this one was unique for its fur was white as snow and its eyes were red like milky rubies. It wore little in clothing beyond a simple covering of its nether regions and a few leather belts that held various tools and pouches. The ratkin placed the cloak over the back of a chair made especially for a being of his size, and then went to a nearby washbasin to clean the evidence off his paws. The clear water turned pink as the blood came off, and the ratkin was left to think about the events that transpired.
  
  His entry was as perfect as he could've hoped. The guards were easy enough to bypass once he'd distracted them. The old coin toss trick was still just the thing to distract these greedy mercenary types. Once inside it was a simple matter of moving unseen towards the kitchens, where the secret passage connected to the target's bedchambers. It seemed the fat pig couldn't go a day without his precious midnight snack. Once inside he simply knocked over a stew pot to distract the cooks and slipped inside the larder, pulling on the empty sausage hook just like his contact said. The shelves mechanically opened revealing the stone staircase behind. A few flights later and he was inside the bedchamber, where his target was sound asleep in his garish four post bed. It was just that damn neck that had ruined his night. He prided himself on quick, clean kills. But the artery wasn't as quick a death as he needed, and when the target awoke he had to quickly grab one of his pillows and smother the pig until he stopped squirming. Messy, unprofessional. His reputation would suffer for it, but the job was done in the end. Another warlord lay dead in his bed, and it was at the hands of Milkweed, the most feared rat in the city.
  
  Milkweed sighed as he shook his paws dry, because an uncomfortable realization had set in once again. None of this mattered. Soon enough another warlord would take this one's place, and the cycle would continue. He took the seat that held his cloak and rested his head on the desk in front of it. These thoughts had been plaguing him for months now. It seemed that he had reached the peak of his skills, and that he had a permanent place of employment here among some of Aldelor's dirtiest, foulest beings. A killer of killers, and that's all he could ever be. Even if he decided to move on to grander cities he'd wind up doing the same work. He'd trained in nothing else his entire life, the shadows were all he knew.
  
  Milkweed looked out the porthole at the various lights dancing on the water. People of all sorts gathered at this port, but most were of the less than reputable sort. And yet this was a city, fully and truly in every sense of the word. A city built on lies, deceit and murder, but a city all the same. A bunch of ragtag pirates and coastal raiders turned this barren cove into a hub of activity and life. Milkweed began to think about his own people, about how their own ways were not so far off from these dregs, and how even they could not organize themselves for more than a decade. The host of clans and disjointed groups throughout Aldelor was testament to the ratkin's failures, and Milkweed couldn't help but wonder. Why? Why couldn't they? If a bunch of stupid, greedy warlords could build something like this, why couldn't they do the same? It was a foolish dream, of course. There were a mountain of problems that would keep the ratkin from forming a true nation of their own. Prejudice, hatred, fear, physical limitations, the capital needed, the space required. All of it seemed like an impossible, insurmountable chasm that his tiny body was too small to leap.
  
  ...But maybe...
  
  At that moment a bright flash of light erupted inside the cabin, blinding Milkweed and forcing him to reactively dive beneath the desk. His knife was already in his paw and pointed out in front of him as an effort to put something between him and the unknown. His eyes burned but his lungs were steady, his years of training would dare not let him be discovered when he was in duress. But as the spots began to fade from his vision Milkweed became increasingly aware of a... calming force within the room. Magic no doubt, he'd felt its touch before and this was almost certainly a spell of some kind. But it didn't feel forced or fabricated. He couldn't quite say why but this force felt... natural, even. Like a calm breeze on a summer day.
  
  Milkweed looked out from under the table and saw a pair of pale, dainty legs standing barefoot on his deck. At least, he thought the figure was standing. But her form was so light and precise that it almost looked like she was floating above the wooden boards. Those legs went up until they were covered by a thick cloak of black and white feathers, and somehow Milkweed knew they would feel softer than any silk of this world. The cloak continued, hiding the being's arms until it revealed a perfectly porcelain face, covered only by a lace blindfold. The woman had long ears like an elf, and antlers of smoked glass growing from beneath her long, onyx hair. The woman was smiling quietly, looking directly at where Milkweed was hiding beneath his desk.
  
  Nothing about this made sense. Milkweed wasn't anyone important enough to warrant this kind of attention. Sure he was a high profile killer, but this was something straight out of a fairy tale. Only kings and emperors were given this kind of audience, not lowly rats like himself. But she continued to stare at him despite her eyes being hidden behind the lace. And Milkweed felt... oddly right about the whole thing. He couldn't explain it, and it was so far outside of his normal means that it unnerved him. He never went with his gut feelings if he could help it, he always made sure to find more information before moving on a decision. But this was different, orders of magnitude different than what he was used to. And he couldn't fight this feeling of... purpose that was flooding through him.
  
  Silently Milkweed sheathed his knife and scurried out from under the desk. He stood up to his full height of two feet and looked up at the ethereal woman, who stood no more than a foot taller than he. She reached out an ivory hand from beneath her cloak, and without a second thought Milkweed grasped it in his paw.
  
  Another flash of light, and then they were gone.
  
• 
  
  The Fairy RealmElysian Gardens​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  Milkweed blinked as he took in his new surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the overpowering scent of flowers and pollen. It was so intense that he couldn't help but sneeze, forcing his eyes to close out the vibrant array of colors they had been assailed with. He brushed his nose with the back of his paw to look out at his surroundings, and was struck dumb by what he saw. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful, so unearthly, so colorful. He honestly didn't think that colors like this even existed. The water was clear as glass, the trees were large and lush with green, and the sun hung in the air at the perfect angle to give off that evening amber light. Milkweed was afraid to move for fear of crushing any of these beautiful flowers he was surrounded by, but he was startled when he heard a noise beside him. He looked, and saw that it was the woman from before. And she was quietly giggling at him. He might have been upset if her laughter didn't sound like silvered bells, but it too had a calming effect on him. She silently motioned forward towards a clearing before walking in the same direction. Even her steps gave the impression that she was floating rather than walking. Still slightly mesmerized Milkweed followed her, not knowing where he was or what he was about to witness.
  
  He got his answer not long afterwards as a table of all things came into view. And then figures surrounding the table began to take shape as well, and they were all finely dressed figures at that. In fact looking at their dress Milkweed easily guessed that they were all royalty of sorts, or at the very least nobility with access to great wealth. Milkweed hurriedly looked at himself and was surprised to see he was wearing his cloak, completely cleaned and partially fluffed from the feel of it. The calming woman looked back at him and gave him a quick nod, confirming Milkweed's suspicions that she was the one responsible. 'Well, at least I'm not naked', he thought to himself as they continued towards the table.
  
  As they approached the table Milkweed threw up his hood out of habit, but also out of deference to the gathered nobility. He didn't recognize any faces, but the names and words being thrown about were from some very high ranking places throughout the world. As he pondered this the woman directed him towards am elaborate chair, somehow exactly his size, which he took with a nod. The people gathered were now starting to show a surprised interest in him, which Milkweed expected. From what he could tell he might be the only non-humanoid in this entire gathering. But what really surprised him was the amount of attention his guide was receiving. The nobility were impressed with her appearance and form, but their retainers seemed to be taking an unhealthy interest in her reasons for being here. Clearly they were acquainted, and as Milkweed was trying to figure out their relation to her he saw another two just pop into existence on the other side of the table.
  
  Magic? Beautiful gardens? Mystical creatures in different forms? A gathering of nobility? This... This was all sounding like a very specific fairy tale. An old one often told by the drunk and hopeless throughout Aldelor.
  
  And just as the masked man took his place at the head of the table did Milkweed realize where he was. And moreover, he realized who he was. His guide was now his Fairy, and he was her chosen King.
  
  The realization floored Milkweed, planting him to his spot and making him oblivious to masked man's words. It was only when he felt a perfectly gentle hand on his shoulder that looked up into his fairy's face. She looked down at him in a comforting manner, and Milkweed accepted that he was not here on a whim. He was chosen for a reason, and he would learn why eventually. He'd heard the others call her 'Fade', and so he decided that he would too.
  
  When the masked man finished his speech the seated nobility clapped their hands in respect and began to talk among themselves. Immediately topics began to be brought up of trade agreements, border disputes and other such manners of state. Milkweed felt a little lost in all of this until he felt that same gentle hand on his shoulder. Fade quietly pointed to her ear, then nodded and looked around the table at the gathered nobility. Milkweed understood, and nodded in return. He would do what he did best when he didn't know enough.
  
  He would wait and listen, and learn what he could.
  

73 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Isle of MonstersL E V I ' A N T HBlackwell​

Nation's Stats
Population: 7
Economy: 11
Military Might: 16.5
Technological Advancements: 3
Citizen Happiness: 7

Day 2, Month 1, Year 1, 501st Convergence Cycle

A black fairy dropped through the large round mirror within her private chambers, and she then moved to the side to be clear of the two large leviathan that fell through following her. Xir'ain, having knowledge of where Astarot would bring them, shifted into his four-legged shape to land beside the pool of water below the hanging mirror. Ore'seur simply landed with a splash inside the pool, only changing his own shape after he'd dragged himself out of the water. He apologized to his king, whom had been drenched by the other leviathan's landing, yet his king payed him no heed. Xir'ain was staring back up at the mirror, or rather he was staring up at the fairy standing on the wall perpendicular to the floor that was staring at herself in that mirror.

Astarot had changed her size to better view herself, growing from a small wisp into a human child and then a tall womanly figure. The shifting darkness that surrounded her dropped away, revealing pale smooth skin beneath. But far from revealing any great secret, the form revealed was that of a beautiful mermaid. "Does this shape please you?" Astarot spoke with Enly'air's voice, but laughed with her own.

Xir'ain flicked his tail and turned to walk out of the room, shifting into his natural serpentine shape on the way out. Ore'seur, after a moment of conflict over following his king or staying, lay down just inside the doorway with his head raised to watch what the fairy did.

Astarot did not care if the leviathan wished to see. Having no shame was a lesser of her many virtues, and she certainly would not take up shame for a plagiarized body. Still, this was her first time back in the fairy realm since claiming Xir'ain to be her king - bringing the leviathan through notwithstanding - and she felt the need to indulge herself. First she got rid of the ridiculous fish tail and replaced it with the long tail of a leviathan, and when that still didn't feel quite right she got rid of that as well, leaving her lower half little more than a vague smoky column. She would come back to that, probably. Astarot ran her fingers through Enly'air's long azure hair and dyed the strands to black, then she froze it so that each individual strand was its own icicle and every motion came with the quiet music of Winter. As much as she did enjoy the contrast between the pitch black and the paleness of the mermaid's skin, it was not her, so she blackened her skin as well, leaving only the mermaid's eyes and lips with their violet color. She drew a line above her breast where black water appeared and poured down over her skin, ignoring gravity to fall over where her legs would be and pool onto the cold stones of the wall. The imagined water simply vanished once it began to slide away from her. That took care of what she would wear, and it got her out of having to decide what to do with her lower body. But no, this was still far too plain. She formed black flames in her palm and ran one arm through it, and then the other, so that she wore the lightless fire as elbow length gloves. It still wasn't perfect. Now even her own attention was pulled away from her face towards what she wore. It was too visually distracting. Rather than adopt anything more subtle, Astarot found a solution in escalation.

It had been many years since she had donned her own wings, even in private. As she was one of the many fairy that simply used magic to move through the air - and her shapeshifting let her use any shape of wing if she did wish to fly - she'd long ago decided that her own wings lacked purpose. But decoration was a pointless purpose, so it felt right when she used the shape of her wings as a black mask that hid her eyes. She stared at herself in the mirror and found this new shape beautiful.

Ore'seur flicked his tail towards the fairy once she landed on the edge of the pool, a motion that she had learned to mean that he was thinking of asking a question. When she asked him what it was, he got up and stepped closer to inspect her new shape. "You looked like that siren," he said. "How?"

Astarot ran her hand over the leviathan's smooth back as he circled around her. "It is the same as becoming any other shape," she answered him.

"You change shape yes, but you became the siren."

"Of course I did. I took her shape as my own." Astrot did not understand the question this leviathan was asking.

Ore'seur flicked his tail and thought of a way to ask that was better. "The land form," he spoke of the four-legged shape that Xir'ain had taken from the king of beasts. "I have seen the younger ones of the prey the king took that shape from. The shape we take is similar to them, but it is different. We take the shape, but we do not become one of them. Not how you became the siren. Explain why this is."

Astarot finally understood what this most curious leviathan wished to know. "Why do you not grow hair and pointed ears when you take the shape of a panther?"

"Yes."

"It is because the shape of a panther is not what I gave Xir'ain when he asked. He had just killed the most dangerous of its kind. Why would I weaken my own king? What I gave him was the shape of himself plus what might be useful taken from the dead panther: powerful limbs and claws, balance and speed. Things that make moving and hunting outside of the water easier. But yes, if I had desired to, I could have given Xir'ain the complete shape of the dead panther, made him a perfect copy of it."

Astarot did not say then the other reason for not giving her king the perfect shape of the king of beasts when he had asked for it. That at a fundamental level, everything, object or living soul, had a sense of identity that knew its own shape. She had turned her king into himself with legs and certain other features, but he was still himself. She had made him small and immobile as a ring, but he was still himself. If she had turned him into a panther fully, then he was no longer himself. His soul would reject the change, or worse, it would grab onto the new identity and reject the old one. Changing things as she did was not without uncertainty and risk. Astarot did not even trust herself to take on another form entirely except when she was able to focus on maintaining the shape and her own identity. This very special occasion was one such time, and more than that she wished to show off.

Xir'ain was coiled outside, his head raised to stare out at the strange land of the fairy. He turned when Astarot and Ore'seur came out of the tower. The latter ran about excitedly, taking in as much as he could of this new place. This was the first time he had been away from Blackwell in a decade, and it was also his test to see if he would be allowed to leave the island as Xir'ain had promised. Over the past years, Ore'seur had learned much about the world beyond the oceans and beyond the Blackwell. He had memorized places and races and people and histories and events, and he'd learned to read and write in foreign languages, and while he hadn't been able to practice speech as much, only really Aldelese as Xir'ain had needed to learn it in preparation for this convergence, he was confident that he could speak at least a handful of the foreign tongues well enough to be understood. Now he stared out at a place so strange and magical that it put all of the places he'd learned of to shame before he'd even gotten a chance to appreciate their beauty for himself.

"Is it time?" Xir'ain reminded the other leviathan that there was a reason for them being here. The Convergence.

Astarot smiled with the siren's smile that discomforted her king. "Yes, it is about time for us to head to the meeting place. We can go there now."

Xir'ain glided up to the fairy and touched his head to her hand, then drew back. "The flames are distracting," he stated. Astarot put out the flames only on her fingers, and only on one hand, which Xir'ain found acceptable. He touched her hand and was shrunk down and reshaped into a black ring about her pointer finger. Next was Ore'seur, who became a mostly identical ring around her middle finger.

Astarot stepped back inside her private tower room and stood in the center of the pool. Her eyes rose to meet their own reflection in the mirror above. But the her in the mirror wasn't standing in the pool, it was somewhere else entirely. Astarot lowered her gaze to look about this different place, as it had become her own surroundings. She stood on the surface of a pond within the garden where the Convergence was to occur. She glided over the ground and up the stairs to the meeting place, her black dress waterfalling down to pool around her feet only to evaporate as she moved on in a mesmerizing cycle while the flames ran up her arms in a contrary way.

Each fairy she recognized she whispered their names to her raised hand. She knew little of the kings present beyond the old holdovers. She spotted Queen Haarii, already sitting at the table. The young queen held her hands together before her and her gaze steady and distant. It had been many convergences since the merfolk had changed their official stance of political aloofness, and it seemed that Haarii intended on maintaining that status quo. Fairy tales imagined a time when merfolk had once allied with people of the abovewater, but those ages were long past, and while they may have become half-forgotten fairy tales told on land, those histories were told as a grim reminder to those of the sea of what happened when trust was betrayed. As the merfolk saying goes: "the waves break where the ocean meets the land". So while the current mermaid queen was present each convergence, she often participated only as far as exchanging pleasantries, and that was only for the more extroverted of them. It seemed that Haarii was not one of those. The queen didn't even acknowledge Astarot. Or perhaps it was that she did not recognize the fairy as the same one that so often met with her? Astarot had changed herself rather dramatically for this event after all. But the mermaid's fairy certainly recognized Astarot. Nereid was glaring at her icily. She blew him a kiss.

Astarot's gaze swept across the gathering of fairy and their chosen. She recoiled at one. "Fade?" What was she doing here? The seer was beside a small figure. If she was here, and she was with someone, then it must be her chosen. The fairy that saw the future had chosen a king. The chill Astarot felt was not from her iced hair. Unsteady times they were entering. But she did not yet know why Fade had chosen to enter the game now. Was it because of something she had seen in the future? Astarot thought for a moment of her own plans. But any number of things could happen in the future besides things she touched. It was just as likely to be something she was not in any way involved with. Either way, she turned away from the unsettling sight. Her future-seeing aside, Astarot found the other fairy far too similar to herself to possibly find pleasant.

Finally she found the fairy she sought. The blue-skinned fairy was speaking with the Lady of the Lake in hushed tones, but Astarot could see the lines of urgency about their eyes as they conversed. Cryogane and Albion were neighbors, so it was only natural for the two fairy to have things to discuss, but Astarot smelled delicious conflict in those words she couldn't hear. Perhaps she'd gain something more than she'd planned on this day after all.

"Lillare, a pleasure to see you," Astarot greeted the blue-skinned fairy. She had not waited for the other two fairy to be done speaking, and her tone implied a friendship that did not exist between herself and Lillare. In fact, the seer notwithstanding, Lillare was the fairy most on guard against the dark fairy's constant plotting. The two whose discussion she had rudely interrupted regarded Astarot with suspicion, but there was also something else in the gaze of the Lady of the Lake. It was odd for her to let her emotions show so plainly, surely there must be something dire happening in Albion. Astarot pivoted her attention to the Lady of the Lake. "And a pleasure to you as well your Ladyship," she said with a smile.

"Is there something you need, Astarot?" Lillare regarded this interruption coolly, but maintained her politeness.

"Yes actually." She allowed her veiled gaze to linger on the Lady of the Lake for a long moment. To Lillare, "I wish to commission work from your own fine smiths and craftsmen."

"That is hardly a matter worth bringing up here," Lillare remarked. "Unless you are saying your nation wishes to monopolize Cryogane's forges for some other purpose. Is that what you speak of?"

"Nothing of the sort," Astarot waved away the assumption of warmongering that the other fairy seemed to have of her. It wasn't wrong, so she took no offense at it, but she had other goals in mind for now. "I do wish to have a few tools made, but I do not think it will take any large portion of your nation's crafting to supply the amount I desire. More than that, the main piece I wish to commission is a trinket, a gift for my king to celebrate his rule."

"Then I do not see why you bring this to me," Lillare was firm on this. "Cryogane welcomes trade. Simply bring your payment to any free smith and have your trinket made."

"I am able to pay," Astarot raised a finger to her lips. "What about a currency exchange? What I offer as payment holds value, but would be unwieldy to use in your nation's transactions."

Lillare was uneasy about any kind of interaction with Astarot, but trade was trade. So long as the fairy was ale to pay, she was not barred from personal trade in Cryogane. It was only with larger trade agreements that oversight was necessary. "Very well," she said. "I will meet with you at noontime on the first day of the next month. Come to Snowslide Keep then, and we will oversee the transaction."

"Wonderful!" Astarot beamed at the cold fairy. "My king will be overjoyed at receiving the masterwork of your people as a gift!" With her hands together before her, the dark rings on her fingers eclipsed her lying smile.

"Speaking of your king," the Lady of the Lake inserted herself back into the conversation, "are they not present here? I have not heard any word of the nation you founded in these past years. I'd like to know of it, if you are willing to share gossip."

"It is not yet time for me to reveal the fruits of my work," Astarot said evasively. "When that time comes, you will notice, I should think. My king will bring change that will be felt around the world."

"That has the ring of bragging to it," Lillare said. "Your nation is young, and there are others much older who do not claim as much."

"Your nation is strong?"

The question came from the Lady of the Lake. It was not something Astarot had expected from her, but it was a card she would gladly add to her hand. The black fairy grinned. "Quite."


72 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[Karcen]

ARRAN'AK

Day 2, Month 1, Year 1, 501st Convergence Cycle
​

Nation's Stats
Population: 15
Economy: 8
Military Might: 19
Technological Advancements: 12
Citizen Happiness: 8

Another cycle down another convergence to happen, though at least this time there were new faces. It was good to see the world once again becoming populated by chosen nations. Still this was all part of a cycle one that sometimes annoyed Kul'tir. Nothing lasts forever not even a kingdom ruled by an immortal lich, Kul'tir had broken one cycle and had pondered long upon breaking another. Looking to the others he towered over most , his size having grown in undeath as his power did; though he made sure to not grow to large. Kul'tir was currently a good ten feet tall and bedecked in some of his best finery, bit he made sure not to put on to much a balance between opulence and modesty was needed.

The other kings and queens were mostly humans though one king was missing though the fairy that was there in his stead Azeala had told him had a malevolent reputation. Their nation would need to be watched just in case the shadowy fairy lived up to that reputation. The true surprise of the Kings was the rat man they were almost never chosen as kings by the fairies. It truly was an odd choose given their short lives there would likely be a great amount of in fighting for the throne and amount families. The kingdom would likely be unstable or more so than any other kingdom. Azalea whispered if the fairy being an odd one as well having only just shown interest in the world.

Sadly it seemed the fairy king would be out, Kul'tir had wished to meet with one who he considered an old friend. Few could match the age of Kul'tir and even fewer were older and the fairy king was the most active of those, at least if you discounted all the fairies he guessed equally old rulers was more apt. It was during these thoughts that the black fairy moved about and started making deals, it seemed she was the one in charge as she moved first to establish relationships with others. that was not unheard of, but most tried to play up their kings as the leader and not the lost follower. Kul'tir wondered what the black fairy was seeking was it to start things small then open the chances to future pacts until the fledgling could stand on it's own? Small things often lead to bigger deals, still just where were the nation the black fairy held sway over was located, Kul'tir had never really heard of them, had the fairy made a people to govern, that would be new.

" Well then with the rules out of the way we can get down to business " Kul'tir said his tone warm likely reminding someone of a grandparent that was happy to see his kids. " It is nice to see so many new faces it does and old man good to see youngsters rising up to fill the empty seats" he continued making this something of a speech though every word while meant to be kind did hold a hidden meaning that was only thinly veiled. " And i see some interesting choices have been made for kings let's hope that will bring some changes to this world, it has been boring for far to long" He chuckled now he could get to the point " Most of your nations are young, a mere decade at most and there are many challenges that come with such and age, growing pains, challenges to your holds, recovery from wars, and all manner of devastating repercussions. Thus i will announce that Arran'ak is willing to offer aid to help you all establish yourselves" he finished hopefully establishing a friendly image in the young kings minds.


71 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[Nyq]

Vethenia
Day 1, Month 1 of the Year in the 501st Convergence Cycle.
View attachment 526281

• The Elections
• The Convergence

• 
  
  
  Population: 16
  Economy: 2.5
  Military Might: 9
  Technological Advancements: 15
  Citizen Happiness: 1
  
  The streets of Cantobreses were packed with people, all trying to get to the nearest polling station to cast their votes. Huge banners were hung on the buildings lining the streets, each calling for the people to vote for a specific candidate. Within the numerous taverns across the town, there were discussions about the various candidates for the future mayor of Cantobreses, although none of them had the popular support that Herphaeus had.
  
  However, that is not the case is every other major Vethenian settlement, for the cities such as Raguzzios, Sparucius, Direnzzes and so on remain empty and desolate. The people had chosen to huddle in fear within the illusion of safety their homes provided, whispering about the rumours they had heard about the Necromancer, none of them good. The rich and the elites barricaded their houses in and refused to even step out of their estates, instead sending their servants to fetch the household the necessary supplies. Some went even further and started their own farms and workshops, isolating themselves even further from the rest of the world. During the night, some townspeople crept their way out of the city into the wilderness, planning to make an escape to the foreign lands of the Saragothic Kingdom, Albion, Tesselces, Cyrogane, and even the faraway lands across the sea. The sporadic escapes continued long after the undead armies had long left the realm, for the terror sown among the population still remains fresh within their minds.
  
  Those that still remained on the street are either the foolish, or the desperate, sometimes both. The homeless folk continued to beg on the streets at day and huddle within the alleys at night, but now that the cities are barely alive, most of them had either starved to death, or left the city for the nearby wilderness. Those that remained had withered to the point that they might as well be corpses, as they lied unmoving on the side of the streets, barely showing any signs of life. Thieves and all sorts of criminals also run rampant in the streets, now that the sheriffs no longer patrol the streets and apprehend those who break the law. This phenomena, known as the Silent Days, would continue for a few more months before the public finally recovered, but nothing would ever be the same again.
  
  However, within a small house in the city of Raguzzios, there were two men having a conversation over two mugs of murky beer, an unwanted product in the past, now an expensive luxury item that not even money could purchase at times.
  
  "Damn it, Darius. Your brewing skills are still as shitty as they were ten years ago. Is this even beer?"
  
  "You can fuck right off, Soltes. I'll let you know that even this 'shitty beer' is now considered a luxury. We're literally drinking like kings now."
  
  Soltes looked at Darius with a look of disbelief, before looking over to his mug, and then back at Darius.
  
  "Really? You might as well say that shit is now a luxury."
  
  "It is! With no one cutting firewood for those fat asses, they are now buying dried up shit to light their homes. It's not everyday when you see their faces light up when you present them with shit."
  
  "You can't be fucking serious, Darius."
  
  Darius stared at Soltes with a serious expression.
  
  "Whatever, you're the fool that still roams the streets now."
  
  "Hey, I take offense to that."
  
  "No one cares, Darius."
  
  "Ouch." And with that, the two friends burst into laughter, before they slowly calmed down."
  
  "Actually, Soltes. Who do you think is going to win this 'election'?"
  
  "I mean, there's only that armless beggar that's still somehow alive now, and that 5 year old kid that somehow got nominated. Not much to chose from."
  
  "You know, I'm thinking of nominating myself. Being the fucking mayor must be a pleasant job."
  
  "You crazy bastard, you know that the Necromancer can't be serious. Seriously, letting the people chose their leader? He must be nuts to do that."
  
  Darius only shrugged in response.
  
  "Might as well give it a try. I mean, I can't possible lose more than I already did from this war."
  
• 
  Herphaeus busied himself with sorting out the piles of paperwork on his table, not even sparing a moment to look at whoever just walked into his room. There's simply too much stuff to do now, as the unification of Vethenia, at least most of Vethenia, had created a whole slew of problems for the man to deal with. First off, the sheer amount of death and destruction that occurred as a result of the Unification War has significantly weakened the economy. Men that could've worked in the fields or in workshops now rest several feet below the ground, and the once stable trade routes of the realm are now disrupted, as fearful merchants routed their goods around the warring nation into the ports of Tesselces, the Saragoths, and directly into Cyrogane. It's going to be a while before the trade routes recovered. To make things worse, the fearful people also began to flee the nation en masse, further decreasing the population of the new nation. The damaged cities also need to be repaired, but Herphaeus only had so much men, and they can't be everywhere at once. He started to regret sending off the undead army, they might had been able to help with the reconstruction of the nation, even though they might be terrifying in the eyes of most of the population.
  
  "My lord, it is time." Herphaeus' thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice, and he looked up only to find Messaline standing at the doorway. He hastily tidied his paperwork before he stood up. "Of course, Your Ladyship. We shall make the preparations immediately!"
  
  "This way, my lord." Messaline gestured Herphaeus to follow her to the dressing room, where Herphaeus changed from his linen robes into something more fitting for a king, a blue robe made out of silk. The man also had a small golden crown on his head, a sign of his status, as well as new, polished leather shoes, the skin taken directly from the fearsome river crocodiles that live in the Fyunsteel River, known for their beautiful, smooth hides. Once he had fully prepared for the occasion, Messaline teleported both of them into the fairy realm. Once again, Herphaeus was briefly blinded by a flash of bright light, before he was greeted with the sight of a truly beautiful garden. The vegetation was lush and lively, the water as clear as crystal, and he could see masterfully crafted stone pillars surrounding a clearing with a simple, yet elegant round table, where dozens of important-looking figures sat and discussed various matters.
  
  "My lord, I would recommend heading over the gathering and participating in the discussion."
  
  Herphaeus nodded and the two slowly made their way towards the clearing.
  

70 posts before the next Convergence​

 

[QuirkyAngel]

TROTOPOLIS
Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Cycle. ​

Nation's Stats
Population: 4
Economy: 7
Military Might: 2
Technological Advancements: 2
Citizen Happiness: 3

Kul’tir, the lich.

King of the Arran’ak, the accursed lands that was home to necromancers and the walking dead. Annabelle repressed the urge to shiver as she studied his unholy form for the first time. His grandfatherly couldn’t really mask the stench of death that followed him. Or the coldness of his presence (though Lillare did a fine job of matching him—if not outright beating him—in that regard).

Why would anyone do that to themselves? She’d heard stories of the legendary king that became a monster of course. How resurrected his dead people. How he defied the laws of life. Annabelle had only just started learning magic, but even she knew his sort of magic was forbidden in certain circles. Luxus had warned her that she would encounter many races in the Convergence. That her reactions would determine Trotopolis’s political sphere. However, even she couldn’t help being human.

Prince Salim’s warm grip on her hand rekindled her flame and reminded her of where she was. Her nation was one of the ones Kul’tir addressed. His words, kind as they were, irked her. He seemed to be looking down on the younger nations that had only existed for a ‘mere decade’and, given how quickly he pounced on the opportunity to offer them ‘aid’, she only half believed his offer to be genuine. Things that were too good to be true rarely were.

She doubted the undead felt any growing pains either.

It was just as Luxus said. Lots of subtle snubs and games. Still...Annabelle knew better to antagonize the king of a nation of undead. She smiled “Your generosity is appreciated, King Kul’tir. Trotopolis may be a young nation, but our merchants look forward to doing business with your people.”

What had Luxus said? Opportunities must never be closed? Annabelle glanced at Luxus who was whispering something to Tirius, then waved at a blue fairy with a fish-like tail. Clearly he had no intention of helping her through the myriad of politics. It was in direct contrast with the black fairy, Astarot, who seemed to be speaking for her king.

“My father would probably agree with you, King of Arran’ak, but I’ve always found boredom to be much safer for the world as a whole.”

Annabelle’s eyes flickered to her left. She was surprised Prince Salim had spoken up. Given that he’d just come to represent his father, she figured he wouldn’t do much more than listen. He wasn’t ambitious as his brother and didn’t seem the sort to like politics too much.

“Though...I am curious what your intentions are, your majesty. News of Vethenia’s unification—backed by the march of the undead—have even reached the shores of Candor. That, along with your ships and runners bringing...word...of Arran’ak’s mercenaries. It doesn’t seem like your style. At the very least, I don’t recall the history books mentioning your undead participating in another country’s affairs before.” He nodded at Herphaeus. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Karcen , Nyq

mentioned: OverconfidentMagi


69 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[Karcen]

ARRAN'AK

Day 2, Month 1, Year 1, 501st Convergence Cycle
​

Nation's Stats
Population: 15
Economy: 8
Military Might: 19
Technological Advancements: 12
Citizen Happiness: 8

Ku'tir couldn't say he didn't expect to be called out for his overly kind words, despite them being rather honest. He did want to help other countries, but the game state craft rarely meant even words that were kind even in intention were without a secret gain. Still the prince didn't seem to realize what he would gain by helping out with the other countries or why a lord of the undead might seek to aid others. This likely meant he was new to statecraft as the queen by him seemed surprised that he spoke up. Well Kul'tir could be honest or he could try to hide it. In cases like this the truth was the best option also Kul'tir had little to hide he did seek to help the other nations as this was a good thing.

" That is quite simple my boy" Kultir started still being rather like a grandfather in tone " We undead have a reputation that is not exactly good in many countries, and i understand why. i have seen many a necromancer makes slaves of spirits, calling people back against their will, and more vile acts. that has left a bad taste in others that they project on us even though such actions carry a punishment worse than death in my lands" He explained and it was true most would think of the vile necromancer that bound and enslaved souls, that robbed graves, and did other vile acts.

while explaining that might not be fully needed he did need to make sure other understood the difference between his people and those that they all hated, those that gave everyone a bad idea of how necromancy could be used. These preconceptions were almost always in grained in any nation always fearing the undead and hatting the necromancers.

" But back to my point, i do have reasons for offering aid and that is to attempt to mend this horrid reputation that criminals have cast upon my people" He explained and this was true he wanted to show he was nice and that he had the things to spare to aid others in both trade and military " I do this now because nations like yours and others have peaked my interest" He said honestly still all his words were kind and he did mean his desire to help " I do hope that answers your question, perhaps you would enjoy a tour of my lands to see why i wish to have this dark reputation dispelled?" He offered having taken an interest in the boy as perhaps a potential ally or at least having a good future in his home country.


68 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

TROTOPOLIS
Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Cycle. ​

Nation's Stats
Population: 4
Economy: 7
Military Might: 2
Technological Advancements: 2
Citizen Happiness: 3

Prince Salim nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response given by King Kul’tir, though, what the prince’s thoughts were, Annabelle couldn’t say. His face remained respectfully neutral. “You do me a great honor, your majesty. If my father should permit it, I would be happy to accept your offer.”

Annabelle had to admit, she was a bit taken aback by the dead king’s proclamation. She wasn’t even aware that Arran’ak had such laws in regards to necromancy, let alone their king’s desire to change the reputation of his undead. Given how long Arran’ak had already existed, she wondered if this was new thing, or if it was a battle he’d been carrying for centuries. Fixing the reputation of his nation, that is. Kul’tir’s dislike of “criminal” necromancers, at the very least, seemed real enough. Perhaps there was more to Arran’ak than her childhood bedtime stories would lead her to believe.

Certainly Kul'tir didn't seem anything like the stories made the lich king out to be.

“I’m not certain if the events in Vethenia garnered your undead the reputation you were hoping for…but I do wish you the best in your goal, Lord Kul’tir. It seems to be a noble one. After all, if your people have been unjustly painted, it ought be rectified,” Annabelle glanced at Salim. “How’s your father, by the way?”

“Still cursing the doctors. I expect he’ll have a good couple of years left.”

Annabelle gently squeezed the hand that comforted her before letting go. “I’m glad to hear it,”

Aedeus was well past his prime. His illnesses were coming on more frequently. Who knew when death would claim the old King of Candor? It saddened her to think that her former king, a man who’d been like a mentor to her since she’d been chosen by Luxus, would die. However, for mortals, there was no escaping the flow of time and life. When that happens, one of his two sons would inherit the crown. Likely Felix, though the decision still lay with the king. No. The fairy.

Annabelle peeked Tirius who now sat crossed-legged on Salim’s shoulder, his leafy wings folded. Aedeus would probably give the crown to whichever of his sons Tirius acknowledged, given his faith. She wondered who Tirius would choose. As a former citizen of Candor, Annabelle couldn’t help but be concerned about its affairs. She was biased towards Salim. However, Felix’s achievements were no less notable. He also had a strong faction that supported him.

“Stop staring at me, Human. Salim will get jealous.”

Luxus snickered.

Gracefully ignoring both of them, Annabelle turned her attention to the man in blue silk that Salim congratulated. The King of Vethenia. He subjugated his people with the power of Arran’ak’s undead. United his country through force. However, Trey had also called him a brilliant thinker and strategist—a man of open mind. He built a university that welcomed all races. He was the first to utilize Arran’ak’s undead mercenaries. More importantly, Luxus had told her he’d been chosen by a fairy the same time she had—10 years ago. He was one of the new kings. “I’d like to offer my congratulations as well, Lord Herphaeus. My brother won’t stop praising your new university in his letters. He says he’s learning a lot.”

Karcen , Nyq


67 Posts until the end of the arc

 

[Nyq]

Vethenia
Day 1, Month 1 of the Year in the 501st Convergence Cycle.
View attachment 527756

Population: 16
Economy: 2.5
Military Might: 9
Technological Advancements: 15
Citizen Happiness: 7

The fairy-ruler duo approached the gathering within the clearing, before standing aside to not interrupt the discussion going on. However, that doesn't mean that they are not listening, as any sort of knowledge gained here may prove useful in the future. As he continued to listen in on the conversation, he found out that one of the rulers present was Kul'tir, the king of Arran'ak that had lent his forces to Vethenia just a few months prior, allowing the nation to be finally unified after the collapse of the Vethenian Empire of old. Then, one of the participants, likely a ruler judging by the fact that he's accompanied by a fairy, spoke about his nation, before turning and congratulating him on the Unification. He nodded to the man before thanking him, before allowing the conversation to continue.

A few moments later, the woman who stood beside the man that congratulated him previously, likely the ruler of their neighbour in Trotopolis, judging from what he heard previously, turned to him and congratulated him, before making a comment on his newly established university. Apparently her brother is enrolled in it, but Herphaeus didn't recall receiving a student that was royalty. He probably hid his identity to avoid complicating things, registration was a tad more complex for nobility than for commoners after all, considering the various accommodations that had to be made to guarantee their safety. Putting a halt to his chain of thought, the scholar turned to face the woman and spoke.

"Ah...I thank you for your compliment, the Institute is indeed the finest among all of my works, and it gladdens me to see that your brother is appreciating it, Lady Annabelle."

As he ended his sentence, Herphaeus silently hoped that he got the woman's name correct.

​

66 posts until the next Convergence

​

 

[MrThe]

Empire City
The First Day of the First Month of the Year 501

Population: 4
Economy: 7
Military Might: 5
Technological Advancements: 8
Citizen Happiness: 1

​

Today was the launch of the fleet. It had taken 10 years and enormous effort. But finally, on the start of the New Year the Heavenly Armada would set sail and begin the process of visiting every nation they found, and creating ties of trade and diplomacy between them and the Jade Empress. She heard a Gong in the distance and stood, dressed in her finest Regalia, Placed upon a massive Tower topped with a huge Jade Dragon Statue overlooking the Fleet, and putting on her most Regal Expression she began to speak. "Today is the Launch of our Greatest endeavour yet taken. A fleet Ten Years in the making, and a New Great Nation announced to the world. Today is the New Year, and simultaneously it is the day of Kings, where every ruler pays Homage to the King of Heaven. Thus, it is with great pleasure that I ask the Great Green Dragon to send both the Fleet and myself safely on our respective journeys. May Heaven Smile Upon Our Nation!" Slowly, almost laboriously the massive Dragon atop the tower lifted its head and blew gently towards the fleet. Despite the Dragon seemingly exerting little effort in blowing, the breeze it generated was strong indeed, immediately sending the fleet on its way and forcing the crowd to brace themselves and look away. But when they looked back up at the Tower both Dragon and Empress had vanished, leaving the Kingdom under the command of her Husband, the Royal Consort Shan Yu.

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

Isle of MonstersL E V I ' A N T HBlackwell​

Nation's Stats
Population: 7
Economy: 11
Military Might: 16.5
Technological Advancements: 3
Citizen Happiness: 7

Day 2, Month 1, Year 1, 501st Convergence Cycle

"No, I think not," Astarot said aloud after sitting in silence with a finger pressed against her lilac lips as she contemplated the topic and came to a decision on her own, her king's, and her nation's stance. She raised her hidden eyes towards the undead necromancer king. "Your royal undeadness," there was a heavily implied impropriety in how she addressed him. "You have lived, pardon the term, much longer than many of the children at this table. Tell me, what do you know about life?"

"Oh?" Kul'tir said looking to the fairy a little curious he had almost forgotten she had been there. "Well if that is your choice fairy queen," He said a mild jab at how her nation had only her to represent them as if she ruled them. It was an oddity and in truth Kul'tir did not like it if she was ashamed of her king for whatever reason. "Though I would much rather hear that from your chosen king, but I guess that is impossible," He continued not planning to force anyone to accept his aid, and this fairy struck him as one he wouldn't want to help. "Every nation here has the right to chose their path, and if you chose for yours to not receive any form of aid to establish yourself, then more for any who do," He said simply, his tone measured and simply stating facts anyways. "As for your personal question, I lived a life before I died, one cut short after avenging those who killed my loved ones and taking their domains under my rule."

Astarot leaned forward, her fingers together before her. "I didn't ask you about your life," she said in an airy stream. "I asked what you know of life. In the many years you've neglected death, what have you learned about living? Have you learned anything at all in that time, or have you wasted it all?" Her voice was mocking, saying that there was a correct answer to this question, that it was some sort of test. Her hidden eyes were locked on the king awaiting an answer.

"You seem to think I simply lock myself away in a tower and never come out," Kul'tir said. "I have learned to build, learned how languages changed, I have seen nations rise and nations fall, I have brought forth beings that locked themselves away into the light once more, I have harvested the crops and baked them into bread, I have known love over and over and suffered the loss of their death over and over, I have played the kind uncle to children and the spoiling grand father, and I have known war. I have seen every horror that war can throw at one. I have seen the dead and the dying and seen them march once more. I have watched villages I erected razed to the ground and razed other to the ground in return. I have not been idle in my long life. I have lived more lives than anyone has any right too" He answer having walked so many paths in his rule both directly and indirectly.

The black fairy was silent as she watched Kul'tir even after his rambling had ended. She sighed and shook her head slowly. "No," she spoke evenly, "Your one life ended long ago. What you do now, it is not living." She shook her head again. "I fear for any future that continues to tolerate your rule as if it is acceptable. How can you claim to be good and kind, when you cannot even recognize that what you are is an evil to the living?" She stood up.

"QUIET! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY LORD!" Lady Azaela spoke up pissed at the the fairy. "IT IS YOUR VIEWS THAT CAUSE NO END TO SUFFERING!" She continued not taking the insult lightly to her lord. "Life is experience. Undeath is just carrying on experience. I am sure what ever monsters you are raising to kill and murder are more your kind. That is why you do not bring your king, you do not respect them for not being the bloodthirsty monsters you want to unleash upon the world!" She continued clearly calling out the dark fairy out for not bringing her king.

"Now now Azaela please do remain calm. I have heard all these before. Some just have such a static boring view of life." Kultir said. "They see life as ending at death. Truly it is sad that such views rarely change. Once they have it they never give it up." He continued speaking from experience. He turned to the dark fairy. "I have seen those that share your opinions. It saddens me that even fairies are unable to move on or change themselves."

"So much for the rule bender and trouble causer. Can't even break away from a common viewpoint," Azeala commented.

"Well that aside I do hope Azaela is wrong about you. That would be dreadfully predictable, the dark fairy creating a kingdom to bring destruction. Truly a waste." He continued joining in a little bit with Azeala. "I am sure you are much more creative than your views, but well as your nation does not want help, then so be it. Help is free to be rejected," He said, his tone saying this conversation is over and he had little respect for the fairy left.

Astarot raised her hand to her mouth as if taken aback by the other fairy's ...strong? To her they sounded more desperate - words. But there was a small smile hidden behind that hand. "Think of me however you wish, I at least do not perverse the division of life and death, or between fairy and king." Now she let her grin be seen by the undead king's fairy.

"Right, you just rule in your king's stead," Azeala suddenly spoke up as the other fairy spoke. "Don't pervert it because you likely just use your king instead of respect them, a massive perversion if you don't bring them forth."

Astarot just laughed at Azeala's tantrum, moving her attention away from the unimportant fairy onto her king. "Needless to say, I reject your offer of aid, oh kind undead king. And I hope that the leaders of living subjects put much thought into what it means to ally themselves with those who do not accept death as final. The value of life is in death. And that is what you have lost, Kul'tir." She sat down and brought her hands together before her again, hidden eyes no longer aimed at the skeleton king or the petulant fairy beside him.

"Really you must keep calm Azaela. You always get excited when someone repeats those same old lines." Kil'tir said not even bothering to speak with the fairy anymore or even acknowledge she had spoken. It was the same old lines that everyone spoke. It seemed the living never changed. Abomination this, perversion that, life is about death; all the exact static and unchanging opinions.

"Sorry my lord," Azeala said. "I to grow tired of the same generic prepackaged ideas," she apologized.

"Good. Hopefully with the personal insults out of the way we can continue this civilly, and at least now I can write off one trading partner or even ally," Kul'tir said, going on as if the fairy had not spoken, dismissing her as stuck in the past unable to change her views. "After all I do have a surplus of food and many fine goods to trade," he continued the offer for aid. In truth likely would be rejected by most as they were already set up.

"One line has been drawn," Astarot whispered almost silently into her hands. "Now to see which ones are willing to cross it." That had gone better than she'd planned. She had Azeala to thank for that. As her veiled eyes swept across the table, there were many fairy and kings looking her way, or at Kul'tir, and few others that seemed unwilling to look at either. The mermaid queen, whom had been watching the whole exchange, now sat with her eyes closed, but her fairy was aiming a questioning glare at Astarot. It said, 'What do you think you're doing?' One did not walk into their first convergence and instantly make an enemy of their seniors. Hot-headed green kings on occasion perhaps, but a fairy should know better. Astarot turned away from the mermaid's fairy with a subtle smile upturning her lilac lips.


64 posts until the end of the arc.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

TROTOPOLIS
Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Cycle. ​

Nation's Stats
Population: 4
Economy: 7
Military Might: 2
Technological Advancements: 2
Citizen Happiness: 3

The value of life?

Death?

All of this was going beyond Annabelle’s head as she watched the scene between Kul’tir and the black fairy, Astarot. It was unexpected to say the least. She had expected the false pleasantries to last a bit longer. Granted, her interaction with King Herphaeus hadn’t been false in the least. She really appreciate his stalwartness in creating a university open to all races and hoped her brother got to learn a lot. Vethenia’s technology was far superior to that of the people of Trotopolis. More importantly, he would be exposed to various cultures. He would be able to bring home knowledge that could help their people improve their lives.

Annabelle glanced at Herphaeus. Astarot’s warning about allying with people who do not accept in the finality of death clearly applied to him. Wasn’t he morally obligated to defend Kul’tir, given that Vethenia’s unification was made possible largely due to the undead?

Weren’t they allies?

Annabelle’s personal values were probably more aligned with Astarot’s. She didn’t want to live forever and couldn’t ever imagine herself becoming an undead. No matter how scary death was, if it came, it came, and she would probably accept it…probably. Annabelle was only human, after all. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen to Trotopolis if she were to die at the moment. How could she fault Kul'tir for wanting to save his kingdom?

Yet...could one truly value life if one did not fear death?

Annabelle looked to Luxus who shrugged. Clearly he was leaving the foreign relationships to her.

She’d already opened potential business relations with the people of Arran’ak. However, the black fairy was drawing a line. Did helping Arran’ak mean closing business relations with…whatever kingdom Astarot supported? Annabelle didn’t want that. However, she didn’t want to close opportunities with Arran’ak either.

Annabelle was saved from having to say anything when the masked mediator spoke. “Azalea, you get a warning for the use of the word ‘monster’ to address a race chosen by a fellow fairy as that directly violates the first rule in which all nations to be considered equal in this room—thus equally treated with respect. One more and I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Then he went back to silently taking notes. Not a word had been uttered from their ‘mediator’ since he’d gone over the rules at the start of the convergence. It was rather curious. Was his role only to settle disputes? He didn't seem to be stopping any arguments that arose. Why was he even here?

Regardless, Annabelle was already finding herself wanting to leave. Animosity. False pleasantries. It grew tiring after a while...and the Converge of Kings was proving it even worse than the council meetings she had with neighboring island leaders.

“Regardless of any morals regarding life and death, Trotopolis will maintain its open trade policies.”

There. Declaration made to the entire table. Hopefully it’ll allow her nation to remain neutral in whatever conflicts arose.

Karcen
OverconfidentMagi
Nyq
MrThe

Meanwhile...
“It’s been a while, Fade. I’ll admit, I didn’t really expect to see you here.” Luxus popped up beside the oracle while his queen spoke. Minor teleportation magic was silently used as he didn’t want to disturb the meeting of kings. They seemed to having such a fun discussion. “And with a new king at that. When did you choose?”

The leprechaun tipped his hat at the Ratkin. “Salutations and congratulations, by the way.”

The Ratkin had never been represented at the Convergence before, so it wasn’t hard to deduce that Fade had chosen her king fairly recently. How? Why? That still remained a mystery. Fade had never expressed a desire to leave the Fairy Realm before. Yet she did so now...because of a rat. It was too interesting not to comment on.


KamiKahzy


63 posts left until the end of the arc.

 

[KamiKahzy]

• Observations
• Separations
• Preparations
• Acquisitions
• Horizons

• 
  
  The Fairy RealmElysian Gardens​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  Mentions: Karcen , Nyq , QuirkyAngel , OverconfidentMagi , MrThe
  
  
  Even though Milkweed had a seat at the large table and was clearly the oddest thing at this gathering he was amazed at just how little attention he was receiving. Sure there was an initial curiosity to him, as he'd expected, but once that was over the other rulers simply went about their business as usual. They barely even gave a passing glance to the tiny figure cloaked in grey sitting in the tiny chair at the grand table. And in all honesty, that suited Milkweed just fine. He's always felt more comfortable in the background, it often meant he wasn't in any immediate danger or being targeted by anyone. This anonymity gave him the perfect opportunity to simply sit and absorb everything that was happening around him.
  
  Most of it was simple politics. Various rulers trying to increase their wealth, power or influence through various means. The large undead was certainly a head-turner for most, but Milkweed was already aware of the Dead King Kul'Tir's influence. His claims against rogue necromancy were certainly true, as Milkweed had heard some truly horrific tales from the sailors that made port back in Landover. But he also knew that Arran'ak wasn't adverse to hiring out spare 'labor', as he'd also heard tales about undead being used in raids and across battlefields all across Aldelor regardless of nation or creed. It seemed the Dead King was more tolerant of death and destruction as long as it was his own undead committing the act, rather than some rogue mage with delusions of grandeur. A power to be wary of, certainly.
  
  Then there was Milkweed's direct neighbors to the south. The lands of Vethenia had long been the preferred hunting ground of Shendoran raiders. Their fertile lands, soft villagers and bickering city-states created the perfect atmosphere for them to get in and get out without any fear of retaliation from the ruling powers. But Milkweed had heard rumors that Vethenia had finally been united following a civil war, and the chatter amongst the nobles confirmed those stories. That being the case Milkweed guessed that, assuming the new ruler of Vethenia wasn't a complete wet rag, that the days of easy coastal raids were coming to an end. He wagered there would be about five more years of unrestricted access to the coast before people started to properly recover from the war. Milkweed logged that nugget away for later, it might prove useful. Their ruler also made mention of an 'academy' of sorts, a place of learning for all races. That piqued his interest, as Milkweed was always willing to learn new things. But he doubted he would get the chance to partake in such a place, something in his bones told him he'd be busy for the foreseeable future.
  
  And just to the west of Vethenia lay the island nation of Trotopolis. Honestly Milkweed had only learned about them through passing stories while partaking in Landover's houses of libation. They were a new nation, so new in fact the sailors often joked you could still smell the pitch on their hull. In years past the islands had been a reasonably safe berth for returning raiders and merchants alike, but the lands simply weren't inhabited enough to warrant anything more than a passing interest from Shendorah's hungry inhabitants. But with their establishment as a nation that was likely to change, and Milkweed wondered if the fledgling state would be up to the task of defending their coasts when the weather warmed and the winds turned. The young queen also seemed to be making doe eyes at the young prince of Candor, no matter how much she denied it. Probably nothing, but if she decided to ally herself with the old kingdom then that would make them a decisively less appealing target for pirates and the like. More useful information to be used when needed.
  
  There was an assortment of other nations and beings gathered as well. Milkweed gave them passing interest as most weren't even close to his borders, however he did make note of the Jade Empress making the rounds. Her reach had grown substantially over the past decade or so, and Milkweed wondered if it had anything to do with her being chosen during the last... 'Convergence' was the term being used for this event, if he recalled correctly. She seemed a haughty sort, unsurprising given her self-appointed status as a 'living god'. Milkweed could almost taste the bile in his throat at the thought of having to trade words with her. Arrogance had always rubbed his fur the wrong way.
  
  However there was one being that proved to be an outlier at this gathering. Not because she was... 'dressed' the most excessively, and not even because she was alone and had no obvious ruler accompanying her. It was because Fade had not stopped watching her since the meeting began, and Milkweed had noticed. The fey clad in black water, the one known as 'Astarot', appeared to be the most aloof of all the gathered beings. She was simultaneously invested and disinterested in the surrounding matters of state. In fact her actions had been so specifically roundabout that Milkweed had to suspect she was purposefully acting on some unspoken agenda. Nothing about her seemed accidental, and Milkweed could feel a twinge of fear run down his spine as he wondered what this manipulator was planning behind her ruler's throne. But what confused Milkweed the most was Fade's reaction to her. He had looked up to confirm his suspicions with his new fairy, but Fade simply would not look away from her. And Mlikweed could feel this potent aura of... Sadness? Regret? Some visceral feeling of melancholy was radiating off of Fade as she looked on towards the fairy of dark waters. Milkweed didn't know if he was simply attuned to her enough to feel it, or if she was powerful enough to express so much without saying a word. He was truthfully jealous for a moment, wishing that his own people's silent communication of 'pensing' was half as nuanced as what Fade was producing. But it seemed Fade could feel Milkweed's gaze as well, for she did eventually turn to look her king in the eyes and give him a reassuring smile. And as much as she tried, as much as the feeling of reassurance was being gently washed over him, Milkweed still didn't feel all that convinced. 'Astarot', he mused to himself, looking back one last time at her darkened visage, 'Seems like you're one worth remembering here.'
  
  Milkweed was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the tiny fey man just blink into being right beside himself and Fade. He was thoroughly convinced that nobody would give him the time of day compared to all these other, more established rulers. But it seemed his strangeness, or more accurately Fade's strangeness, was enough to warrant a direct response. Milkweed only nodded politely to the tiny man in green, not really sure if he should say anything since he wasn't really a ruler of anything at the moment. Meanwhile Fade simply kept her same dainty smile and bowed politely to the new fairy, she too electing not to say anything to him. But Milkweed could feel a sense of greeting and camaraderie emanating from her, once again making him jealous of Fade's latent powers.
  
  Luxus rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his lips despite his words. "Fiiine. Don't tell me. Oracles! Pfft! Never talk when you want them to." Shaking his head, the Leprechaun looked towards the Ratkin that Fade had chosen. "So how do you like the Convergence of Kings so far? Your first one, right? My Queen is the same." He nodded in Annabelle's direction. Milkweed looked back out at the gathered nobility for a moment to consider his answer, then spoke carefully, "...It's a daunting sight. To be honest, I'm not sure if I can keep up." Before he could even look back Milkweed suddenly felt a gentle hand between his ears. Fade quietly scratched at his fur, which caused Milkweed to instinctively lower his ears in a relaxed, submissive fashion. He felt extremely calmed by Fade's touch, but after a moment he realized just how childish and weak this made him appear. He quickly straightened himself out, and Fade politely withdrew her hand from his fur. But her smile remained the whole time.
  
  Luxus watched the interaction between the ratkin and Fade with interest. She seemed to have really taken with him. Knowing her, it was likely something she foresaw. Either in the Ratkin himself, or his future. "I'm sure you'll get used to it. Some of these kings aren't as big as they pretend to be." The last part was said in such a low whisper, it was just barely audible to human ears. However, a Ratkin should have an easier time hearing it. Luxus grinned. "I'm Luxus, by the way. Fairy and financial minister of Trotopolis." The leprechaun held out his hand. "Who are you?" Milkweed was naturally wary of strangers, but in this environment he felt a little bit of trust wouldn't do him much harm. He reached out his paw and carefully grasped the fae man's hand, still not surprised that a being as small as Luxus could still dwarf his own tiny paw. "Milkweed. ...Of Landover." 'Landover'? The dangerous town full of pirates and raiders? Had Fade chosen a criminal then? Oh. Well... if it was Fade's choice, it can't turn out bad. Luxus beamed, shaking the Ratkin's paw. "Milkweed of Landover, huh? I look forward to seeing what you will accomplish."
  
  After a moments pause, the leprechaun added. "If you ever feel you need help getting started on a business venture, feel free to visit me in Trotopolis." And with a polite nod of his head Luxus was gone, turning on his heel and blinking out of existence only to reappear next to his Lady Annabelle. Milkweed watched the green fey for a second, then looked to Fade for her opinion on the matter. She merely looked to Milkweed and gave him that same unassuming smile she always had. Milkweed felt nothing especially noteworthy coming from Fade, so he snorted softly and shrugged his shoulders. He guessed he would have to judge that fairy for himself when the time came.
  
  The gathering continued as it had for what Milkweed guessed to be an hour. Greetings and pleasantries gave way to politics and matters of state, which gave way to petty banter concerning intimacy, virtue and social standing. Milkweed calculated that he'd heard all that was useful from the surrounding conversation, and so he decided now would be the best time slip away. Without saying a word he quietly left his seat and innocuously walked away from the gathered delegation. He didn't even bother to look back, so sure was he in his skill that he knew only a trained eye would have noticed his leaving the table. Hiding in plain sight was one of his more masterful tricks after all. Milkweed walked calmly into the field of flowers surrounding the Convergence towards the place where he and Fade had entered the Fairy Realm. Fade was following silently behind him, her graceful steps carefully parting every blade and petal so that neither was damaged by her touch.
  
  Milkweed expected the two of them to stop at some point in the field where Fade would perform her light trick again and they would both be whisked back Shendorah. What Milkweed wasn't expecting was the sights and sounds of the summer meadow to suddenly shift to those of sea salt and crying gulls. The change was so smooth that he didn't even notice it, and Milkweed looked around incredulously to check his surroundings. Just like that he was standing on the docks of Landover, right beside his own Fortuna. Milkweed whipped his head around to look at where he assumed Fade to be slightly hovering above the soaked wood, only to see her faint smile fading away into nothing at the last possible second. But even though he couldn't see her Milkweed could still feel her presence nearby, and looking towards his ship he knew exactly where she was. He carefully crossed the gangplank onto the ship and entered his cabin, gently closing the door behind him.
  
  And there was Fade, just as he'd felt. She was sitting on the tiny chair next to his desk, which was arguably too small for her yet her delicate frame seemed unconcerned by this. She sat there silently watching Milkweed, unmoving and unblinking behind her silken veil. Milkweed leaned his head against the cabin door and sighed loudly. He brought two claws up to the spot between his brows and scratched, trying desperately to gain some control over his racing thoughts. His brain was bursting with something close to a million questions that he wanted to ask her, but at this exact moment only one seemed the most relevant, and the most important. Milkweed stood back up and looked directly at Fade, and then carefully, calmly asked, "You have a plan?" The fairy's little smile grew just the tiniest bit, and she nodded her head in agreement.
  
  Milkweed inhaled deeply, then released it in a slow, methodical motion. "Alright," he said as he adjusted the clasp of his cloak to a more comfortable position, "Then there's work to be done."
  
• 
  
  ShendorahTrade City of LandoverThe Maiden's Court​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  
  Milkweed stood before two giant wooden doors that were, in fact, the bow of the old Green Maiden cut down the middle. The Green Maiden had been the flagship of the dread pirate Captain Grayce, who had been the one to originally gather the Four Captains and instigated Landover's founding some 40 years ago. Now its hull formed the entrance to the largest, grandest villa high above the waves that crashed against Landover's craggy peaks. It stood upon a narrow bed of carved stone and 12 black iron columns driven deep into the rock. These columns were supposedly made from the melted down cannons collected from each of the flagships of the Four Captains. According to legend, the villa, dubbed the 'Maiden's Court' in honor of Captain Grayce and his contributions, was created as a place where all the Captains could gather to discuss disputes and enjoy the finest entertainment their wealth could buy. According to legend, this alliance lasted all of four days before blood and steel was brought to bear, the alliance shattered, and any semblance of cooperation between the Captains was lost. And supposedly it all happened because of an accusation during a card game. Now the Court was simply the highest, richest villa in Landover, overseeing everything else below as the unofficial seat of power over the city.
  
  That seat was currently occupied by none other than Captain Grayce himself, still alive and somehow still managing to maintain his power despite decades of mutiny and assassination attempts. He'd lost the Court once shortly after the First Mutiny, but he quickly managed to wrest it back and has kept an iron grip on it ever since. And it was before that man that Milkweed had to go. The guards dutifully barred his way at first, but after he dropped his hood and showed them the golden skull pin he held in his paw they quickly adjusted their attitude and allowed him through. Milkweed had been in Captain Grayce's employ ever since his mentor Breeze had passed on. The old buck had finally gotten too old for the job, and tragically took a pistol shot to the side after he'd killed his mark. Milkweed quickly took up his spot as Grayce's personal assassin and spy, and he'd been living comfortably ever since.
  
  The guards barred Milkweed's passage at first, but once he lowered his head they quickly changed their attitude. They began shouting over the villa's red painted walls for the gates to be opened. The massive hull of the Maiden groaned in protest as it was slowly pushed open by a team of four slaves. 10 feet of pitch and oakum reinforced wood creaked against the heavy iron hinges that held it in place. Milkweed didn't wait for the gates to be opened fully. He merely needed a foot of clearance before he scampered through the narrow opening, quickly leaving both the slaves and the guards in a state of confusion. The sounds of the guards beating their frustrations into the slaves quickly faded away to be replaced by the sounds of merriment. The gates opened up into a large, open air gathering space that was fashioned like a courtyard. In the very center of this courtyard was a giant wooden mast, again taken from the Green Maiden, that formed the central pillar of the villa. The Maiden's Mast held up an elegant patchwork of sailcloth that created the tented ceiling above, shading those below from the sun and guarding them against the frequent rains. Strewn about the spacious floor was a vast assortment of tables, chairs and pillows of various design, and much of it was being used for revelry and debauchery. Finely crafted bottles of liquor fought for space on the tables, sitting amongst a grand array of foodstuffs and various narcotics taken from every corner of Aldelor. Candles, torches and incense smoldered away which amply lit and enhanced the lively courtyard. People of many races were lounging about in various states of undress, enjoying each other's company through speech, song, music and touch. These 'gatherings' were largely instrumental for Captain Grayce to maintain his power. He was quite fond of showing how much it paid to be in his good graces.
  
  Milkweed weaved his way through the debauched crowd until he came to a seat at the back of the courtyard. It was a throne, crafted from the wheels of the Four Captain's flagships. Sitting on it was a man of at least 60 years, that showed both in his face and his gut. The man sported a long, grizzly white beard, and was wearing an unbuttoned commandant's coat which put his many chest hairs on full display. A red bandana was tied about his head in such a way that it covered his left eye, and a crescent shaped scar curved out from under the bandana's cloth to curl along his chin. The man was smiling and roaring with laughter, a large bottle of spiced rum in one hand and a scarcely dressed wench in the other. She was attempting to feed him figs from a silver tray, but he was too preoccupied with exploring the fruits of her body to care.
  
  Milkweed stood before this man on the throne and bowed his head, causing the man to take his eyes off the wench and properly direct them towards the tiny killer. "Milkweed!" The man spoke in a jaunty roar that had been nurtured from years of shouting orders on the open sea. His voice had a gravely tone that was likely indicative of smoker's lung, and a yellowing film was clearly visible over his remaining teeth. "Mate! 'Eard ye was busy last night. The fat bastard finally bit off more than even 'is gluttonous, odorous mouth could chew. Ha! Scuttlebutt says 'ee bled like a stuck pig." The man leaned forward and jabbed the elbow holding the rum towards Milkweed in jest. "Ye gettin' a flair for the dramatic me friend?" The ratkin shook his head in dismissal, then reached up and pulled back his hood so the Captain could look upon his face. Captain Grayce studied the rat for a moment, seeming to look for something particular through his drunken haze.
  
  "Bah!" He cried, settling back into his chair and suddenly dragging the wench into his lap. She fell with a squeal, dropping the figs and trying to suppress her giggles as his hand began to travel over her flat stomach. The Captain continued his banter with his hired knife while entertaining himself with the wench. "So it's payment ye be wantin' then, is it?" Milkweed nodded in agreement, but spoke up to clarify the situation. "Aye Captain, but not in the usual way." Captain Grayce's bushy eyebrows raised inquisitively at that. "Ohh? Well, pray tell then! What is it that Landover's most feared Silver Shadow desires? Ye want a turn with the lass 'ere?" The wench suddenly looked confused and concerned at that suggestion, which made Captain Grayce bellow in laughter. Milkweed allowed the Captain a moment to enjoy his jest before he answered. "I want to leave your service, Captain."
  
  Captain Grayce's face sobered instantly. His eyes seemed to have lost their sheen, and he turned to give his hired hand a long, steely gaze. The wench's face suddenly turned white in fear, and she did her best to extradite herself from the Captain's lap. Grayce barely noticed, as he was far too focused on searching Milkweed's eyes for some secret thing only known to him. He slowly set the bottle of rum down beside the throne and rested both hands over his knees. Milkweed didn't move, nor did he show any sign of fear. He was immobile, stalwart, statuesque even. After a long moment Captain Grayce finally spoke, no longer with the same tone of mirth as he had before. Now his gravely voice had taken an edge, and the man sitting before Milkweed appeared much more the scheming king that he was rumored to be.
  
  "...Tha's quite a shift in the wind, me friend. Damn near cyclonic. Wot's brought this on, eh?" Milkweed remained steady as he answered, "I feel there's something more for me out there in the world, and I aim to find it." Captain Grayce studied Milkweed intently, looking for any sign of deceit or treachery. The faint sounds of revelry around the courtyard had begun to quiet since Captain Grayce had ceased his carousing. The Court was growing still, now turning their attention to their Captain to see what he was about. After several long moments of thought the Captain suddenly burst out a belly laugh, leaning back in his chair and holding his gut. "So! It's the wanderlust what's taken ye, that it? Didn't think ye to be much an adventurer Milkweed."
  
  The Captain's laughs quickly died down as he looked back at his sworn ward. His voice was now much more calm and even as he mused aloud, "Y'know this means desertion, aye?" The wind howling outside the crags was the only sound heard after that. All eyes were now on the tiny rat before the throne, and the imposing Captain that sat upon it. Yet Milkweed stood firm, his expression never moving an inch. Carefully the Captain reached towards his waist and withdrew a pistol, gleamingly polished with intricate patterns carved into the barrel. Captain Grayce began to wave the firearm around in a casual manner as he spoke, "Such things are punishable by death. Might be I aught kill ye fer suggestin' it." Quicker than lightning the barrel was pointed towards Milkweed, the flintlock already cocked back and waiting to fire. And still Milkweed did not move. If anything, he looked ready to accept whatever Captain Grayce was willing to do in this exact moment.
  
  After what seemed to be an eternity, the Captain's hard gaze suddenly turned into a small smile. He released the trigger and holstered his pistol, sighing as he settled back into his chair with his arms settling on the rests. He exhaled loudly, then laughed once at the ridiculousness of it all. "Me best killer. One day workin', the next leavin'." He took another hard look at Milkweed before he asked a question, but really it was phrased more like a statement. "Somethin's changed with ye lad, 'asn't it?" Milkweed didn't respond, he simply maintained his stance and awaited his Captain's judgement on the matter.
  
  Another long look of contemplation passed before Grayce threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine! It's what ye asked, then it's what ye receive. Don't let it be said that Captain Grayce doesn't pay his dues." The Captain turned his head and barked at a large mass of muscle and scars that had been standing quietly against the wall, watching the entire exchange in silence, "Shay! Get the locket." The man in question, a dark skinned individual with hair as black as night done up in braids that reached down his back, nodded in response. He disappeared through an open doorway into the villa proper, and about five minutes later came back with a silver locket in hand. Without looking away from Milkweed, Captain Grayce held out his hand and accepted the locket from Shay. He held up the locket, which was a beautifully carved piece with the image of a skull on its face. The Captain flipped a switch on the locket's side, and the front face popped open to reveal a piece of parchment stuck inside. On one side of that parchment was a thumbprint marked in blood, but much smaller than your average man's thumb. But it was just about Milkweed's size.
  
  The Captain's face was grim as he spoke, his words tinged with a seriousness that seemed far outside his normal character. "When ye first swore yeself to me, ye gave me a blood oath. An' until I sign this oath with me own, yer honor bound to come when I call." Milkweed didn't respond, but his eyes betrayed a faint hope. He had a hunch where this was going, and if that was the price of his freedom then he would pay it willingly. Captain Grayce snapped the locket shut with a flick of his finger, then carefully pocketed it inside the lining of his stolen coat. "If ever ye see that locket again, ye come. Without fail. Aye?" Milkweed nodded slowly in response, "Aye, Captain." Captain Grayce waved the ratkin off with one hand dismissively. "Then go, I aint yer Captain no more." Milkweed bowed deeply in respect to Captain Grayce, then turned and left the way he came.
  
  
  Once Milkweed had gone out of sight the party began to resume as it had been, if a bit more muted than before. Shay stayed by his Captain's side, while Grayce sat there with his chin on his hands. "Ye saw her too, didn't ye?" From the shadows behind a silk curtain a figure slinked into the courtyard. It was a woman, small in stature but beautiful to look upon. Her raven hair had many beads, bells and other trinkets woven into it, and she was adorned with a collage of colored silks and bone charms. Her chestnut skin was adorned with tribal designs from head to toe, and there was a certain air of power about her that turned heads when she appeared.
  
  The woman stood next to her Captain and nodded her agreement, "Aye, Captain." She looked on to where she had seen the fairy girl just out of sight beyond the Mast, practically fading into the background. She mused aloud in a calm, mystical lilt, "Strange winds, indeed." Grayce snorted once, nodding in response. He knew what he'd seen, and it had been a long time since he'd seen such a being. Some 40 years ago in fact. It had only been for a moment, but the Captain was sure his eyes had not deceived him. The antlers had seemed a tad much, but that smile said more than enough to convince him. Milkweed was going off to do something incredible, and Grayce could only imagine what the future held for him.
  
  His smile widened to display a mouth full of yellow, and the Captain laughed.
  
• 
  
  ShendorahTrade City of LandoverThe Grotto​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  Mentions: MrThe
  
  
  Down beneath the Court and all the other villas of Landover was the Grotto, a series of natural caves carved out from a millennia of running water flowing beneath the mountains. These caves formed the nerve center of the city's inhabitants, and were the very key to Landover's survival. The countless twisting pathways and secret lagoons created plenty of space for people to build and expand, and the mountain above gave more than enough defense against any would-be heroes or foreign navies. A wide variety of buildings had been erected since Landover's founding, and it created an exotic hodge-podge of structures that appeared both disjointed but solid at the same time. The truth was that Landover never had any real forethought put into its design, so as more room was needed the inhabitants simply worked around what was already established to the best of their skill. The result was a hive of timber homes, hovels and warehouses that jutted out from every subterranean wall, held up by thick support columns (which were mostly repurposed masts) and woven together by an intricate web of fish netting, catwalks and plank bridges. Oil lamps hung from every corner and post, lighting up the murky caves in a perpetual twilight and casting a field of stars upon the water below.
  
  The biggest structures were located near the mouth of the Grotto, including the largest warehouse in the entire city known as the Serpent's Horde. This building housed more variety of goods and secrets than any other port in Aldelor, or so it liked to boast. Every day ships of all sizes would moor at its pier, offloading countless barrels, crates and chests filled to the brim with valuable trade goods. The bulk of it was stored in the large cavern that the wooden façade shielded from the elements, but some was transferred to the open market out front to be bartered and sold to the locals. Tobaccos, teas, silks, exotic fruits, spices, silvered finery and trinkets galore. And of course some of the finest spirits throughout the known world. All of it proudly on display under the watchful eye of its shady hawkers. And everything that went through this Horde was overseen by the most unlikely of souls.
  
  A thin man in his middling years stood at the end of the dock, busying himself with inspecting a shipment of lumber being offloaded from a 40-gun galleon. The man wore a simple white shirt and brown pantaloons, held up by leather straps over his shoulders because a belt was simply useless on his incredibly thin waist. His boots were high, practical things that shined like fish scales in the faint traces of sunlight peeking through the clouds. Upon his nose sat a pair of bifocals with a golden wire frame. A shock of white, mousey hair fell from the sides of his head in wispy patches, leaving a prominent bald spot atop the bulk of his cranium. The man was fastidious, as was evident by the great attention to detail in his simple but perfectly maintained attire. And he was so busy with his inspection that he didn't notice the tiny ratkin in the blue-gray cloak weave his way down the dock and slip right behind the old steward's back. Milkweed watched and waited until he knew the man was in the middle of a mental calculation before he slammed his tail down on the deck with a loud whipping 'CRACK'!
  
  To his credit the man only flinched a little at the sudden disturbance, then slowly turned around to see what the bother was. His expression barely changed when he saw the culprit, and simply turned back around to continue his work where he left off. "Still haven't tired of that jest, I see." The man's voice was raspy with the burden of age, making him sound a decade older than he appeared. Milkweed smiled at the old man as he replied kindly, "It's nice to see you too Harkin." James Harkin checked off another box on his parchment, still facing away from his uninvited guest. "As old as I am," Harkin said with a subdued bite, "I can take some comfort that I should only endure that childish prank for five more years or so." The barb stung, but he did have a point. Milkweed was already seven and most of his kind didn't see many years past their 12th, even in the safest environments. Still, Milkweed kept his smile and continued the conversation. "Could I make it up to you with a little business?" Harkin tilted his head at that, turning back around to look at Milkweed properly. Clutched in his claws was a ruby the size of a large pebble, perfectly cut into the shape of a teardrop. Harkin's sunken eyes brightened considerably at that, and his face actually broke into a calm, wrinkled smile. He handed his parchment and quill to another dock worker and then lead Milkweed inside the Horde. They walked past the barkers and stalls, through the winding maze of stacked cargo, and into the very back where a wooden staircase led up to a long shack that ran the length of the warehouse below.
  
  Inside the shack was a reasonably well kept office, its walls lined with desks and cabinets completely filled to the brim with various documents, parchments and ledgers. In the back was the largest desk of all, perfectly well kept and by far the cleanest space in the Horde. Possibly the cleanest space in Landover itself. Harkin took the seat behind the desk and offered the seat in front of it to Milkweed, which he took after pushing it closer to the polished beechwood. Milkweed actually stood on the chair and rested his paws on the end of the desk while Harkin sat across from him with his hands clasped together. "So," Harkin said with an air of professionalism, "What is it you're looking to acquire?" Milkweed held the ruby in his paw and began to play with it, flicking it over his fingers so that it fell across them one by one. Harkin's eyes never left it, and for good reason. That ruby was known as a 'blood token' within the city, and it was vital in maintaining Landover's economy. See the city had pulled in so much wealth over the decades that it legitimately became too cumbersome for the wealthy and influential of Landover to barter in simple coins. They needed something more valuable, and the blood tokens were their answer. Each token had a base value of 1,000 doubloons, but that was only the beginning of their true worth. Blood tokens had serious weight in Landover, so much so that they had become a status symbol. They were almost exclusively used for buying and trading favors between the most powerful warlords and those that served them. A token could get you access to even the most exclusive bars and brothels up in the Peaks, and practically everyone that dealt with rare merchandise traded only in tokens for their wares.
  
  Harkin was one such dealer. And as he watched the gleaming light play off the token's facets, he couldn't help but wonder just what it was that Milkweed was hoping to trade for. He hadn't been down to the Horde in over a year, and last Harkin heard the Silver Shadow was doing quite well for himself as Captain Grayce's personal killer. Besides, Harkin dealt mostly with bulk goods. If Milkweed wanted some exotic trinket or secret information there were dozens of other contacts he could have reached out to. Not that Harkin didn't have those wares available, but he wasn't the most knowledgeable on such things. So why was Milkweed here?
  
  The albino looked sideways at his old friend and contact while continuing to play with the token. "What is it you're so fond of saying? 'My door's always open for those that pay?'" Harkin nodded quietly in agreement, then watched dumbfounded as Milkweed reached into his cloak and pulled out a sack the size of a cannonball. It clattered onto the polished wood, spilling its contents before Harkin's eyes. A pool of red tears were winking at him from atop his desk, and the stunned man could only look up in disbelief, flabbergasted at the implications. Milkweed's gaze was even but playful as he spoke. "My friend, I've come to collect."
  
  
  Tucked away somewhere within the Grotto was a quaint little pub barely known to the rest of the populace. In fact one had to be of an especially small stature to even find the place, as its entrance was hidden behind a tunnel of fish netting and salt barrels that only gave about 3 feet of clearance. The establishment in question was known as the Rat's Nest, and it was the private gathering place for all the ratkin of Landover. Through the doorway and past the sailcloth drapes was a cavern of respectable size. The interior was perfectly lit and warmed by several fire pits dug into the rock. Each pit had a ring of cushions and other soft things surrounding them, and lounging about on those cushions was a wide assortment of ratkin. Their furs and features varied drastically between them, and they all conversed and comingled with each other in very close proximity. Though most had the same general build, nobody stood more than two feet tall throughout the crowd.
  
  All except one. At a bar on the far wall sat the biggest ratkin in the room, easily standing a healthy three foot six on a good day. The soap box he used as a seat groaned beneath his weight, as it seemed every inch of his height was dedicated to holding up the sheer bulk of muscle and fat that lay across his bones. The ratkin's fur was a deep brown color like lacquered wood, and his ears were just a tad longer than one might have expected of a ratkin. He wore a simple brown shirt and pants, with a dagger tucked neatly into the back of his belt.
  
  The ratkin had a mug in his paw, what looked to be a full pint compared to the other smaller mugs and glasses being used within the pub. He was nursing it casually, completely lost in his own thoughts and the foam of his ale. But not so lost that he didn't notice the white furred ratkin take the seat next to him without a word. "Milkweed," the brown ratkin said in a gruff tenor voice, not looking away from his spot on the far wall. "Rabbit", Milkweed responded in kind. Boulder Rabbit was a well known staple at the Rat's Nest, and a reasonably respected member within Landover itself. He was a deckhand aboard a junk freighter called the Blue Dragon, which had been stolen from the lands of the Jade Empress some years ago. Boulder Rabbit was a hard worker, clever, and an unparalleled wrestler. Even opponents twice his size had a hard time pinning the massive buck in a fair match, a fact that Rabbit was immensely proud of.
  
  But Milkweed wasn't here to discuss sails or sport, he was here for something else entirely. He motioned to the barmouse for a drink, who was a very pretty doe with fawn colored fur and a white starburst above her eyes. She nodded politely, and while she began to pour Rabbit decided to speak up curtly about an old debt. "Ye still owe me a drink fer that tip I gave ye the other night." Milkweed chuckled, nodding in agreement as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a few coins. "Aye, just had to test out the hook first. Got me inside just fine." Milkweed slid the coins across the bar towards Rabbit, who took them in his meaty paw and stuffed them into his pants pocket. The barmouse brought Milkweed's drink over, giving him a wink as she glided the mug to him. Milkweed smiled and nodded to her, then took the mug in both paws and brought it to his lips for a deep swig.
  
  Boulder Rabbit let Milkweed savor the taste for a moment before he butted in. "So whatcher here fer? Business o' pleasure?" Milkweed licked his lips and set the mug down, still looking into the amber liquid as he spoke. "Y'know how you're always whinging about the pirate's life? About leaving the ship and doing honest work for a change?" Rabbit turned to his left to glare at Milkweed and growled lowly from his throat, but he didn't outright deny the albino's claims either. Milkweed looked to his right and met Rabbit's gaze, smiling conspiringly. "What if I told you I have your way out?" Rabbit snorted derisively when he heard that, opting to turn back to his mug and take another drink. But Milkweed quietly took a blood token out of his pocket and slid it across the bar, and when Rabbit saw the jewel he immediately sprayed his ale out in front of him. Luckily the barmouse was quick enough to raise a drink tray as a shield and had kept herself mostly dry. Milkweed stood up on his seat to pat the large buck on the back, who was coughing profusely from the shock of it all. After he'd regained his composure Rabbit tentatively reached out and grabbed the glittering ruby, still not quite believing he was holding a real token in his paw.
  
  Rabbit looked between the token and Milkweed a few times, not sure what to make of the situation. "...Whatcher playin' at Milkweed?" The assassin smiled and sat back down, taking his mug and swirling the contents idly while he explained. "Captain Grayce let me break my oath," Milkweed said, which brought a wide-eyed stare from Rabbit. "On the condition," He continued, "That I come back for one last job if ever he calls for me." Rabbit's eyes relaxed then, nodding his head in understanding. "Well, can't get somthin' fer nothin'." Milkweed nodded, taking another sip from his drink before he started again. "And I just got done negotiating with Harkin for a new ship and supplies." Rabbit was looking more confused now than anything. "A ship an' supply? What fer?" A roguish twinkle burst into Milkweed's eye as he spoke in a hopeful tone, "A new home." Rabbit still looked confused, and said as much, "Whatcher mean? Fer who?" Milkweed sighed a little before clarifying, "For us, Rabbit. A new home for us and our kind. Made for us, by us."
  
  Boulder Rabbit could only stare at Milkweed, unsure of how to really process the implications. Milkweed looked on expectantly, hoping to see some kind of excitement or at least acceptance from his old friend. So it was disheartening when Rabbit's expression hardened, he turned back to his ale, and slowly slid the token back towards Milkweed. "Right, good joke there whitey." Milkweed had become accustomed to barbs and jabs, but that one struck deep. Not only was it coming from what he considered a close friend but it was a complete dismissal of his offer, as well as his hopes. Milkweed's expression hardened in kind as he defended his case, "It's not a joke cuz, I'm serious." Rabbit snorted into his mug as he took another drink. "Mad is what ye are." Milkweed pushed back, "What's so mad about wanting a home, Rabbit? Huh!? Tell me that." Rabbit suddenly slammed his mug down on the bar, spilling its contents over his paw and sending a resounding 'CLANG!' throughout the Nest. Rabbit motioned with his free paw towards the rest of the room. "Look around ye Milkweed! This 'grand splendor' ye see 'ere? This s'what our kind can hope fer." And Milkweed did turn to look around the room. He saw the gathered ratkin frightened into silence at Rabbit's outburst. He saw the old furniture, the discarded cushions and broken lamps. He saw fires being fed by broken crates and driftwood. He saw dirty glasses, mismatched sundries and a gathering of lost souls. Nothing fit, nothing was new. Nothing was their own.
  
  Milkweed looked back to Rabbit, who continued to glare at him while he shared his opinion. "A warm 'ole in the back o' someone else's home. That's all we'll ever 'ave, cause that's all we'll ever be. Leftover, fergotten, used." Rabbit stuck a meaty paw in Milkweed's snout, pointing accusatively at the smaller ratkin. "I've seen that kinda 'ope afore. An' I tell ye, it don't bring nothin' but ruination 'pon them what 'eed its siren song." Rabbit turned away sharply from Milkweed, staring pointedly down into his mug while grasping it both paws. He turned quiet then, and after seeing that a fight wasn't about to break out the other ratkin in the Nest began to pick up where they left off. Milkweed just sat where he was, watching Rabbit carefully the whole time. He was angry, but more than that Milkweed could tell that he was scared. When Milkweed wouldn't look away, Rabbit decided to speak up to break the silence. "I've seen too many o' us chase after that 'ope Milkweed. I've lost shipmates, I've lost friends. ...I've lost kin..." Rabbit's gaze was now far beyond the last dregs of ale in his mug, staring into oblivion as his mind traveled back to some dark memories.
  
  Milkweed's expression softened when he saw and understood his friend's feelings on the matter. He let the brown buck simmer in his thoughts for a minute before he spoke up carefully and tentatively, "...Look, I see what you mean. All of it. And... It's true, we might all die attempting this. Nobody ever wants us... And there's nowhere we can go what hasn't been claimed. We're inquisitive folk and eager to a fault. We get ourselves into trouble whether we look for it or not." Milkweed reached up and put his paw on Rabbit's shoulder, gripping it firmly as a comrade. "But I really think we've got a chance. We need paws, and you know every tail and whisker in this port. You can get us the help we need, help we can trust." Milkweed looked to the bar counter where the blood token had been jostled to the edge from Rabbit's earlier outburst. He placed a claw on it and slowly slid it in front of Rabbit's mug. "Cuz, I'm gonna try for this. With or without you. But I really want you with me on that ship."
  
  Rabbit sighed heavily as he stared down at the jewel in front of him. All his life he'd had that faint hope of a home, some place that he'd help to build with his own paws. Something new, something clean, something to be proud of. He'd shared that hope with other ratkin that were close to him, and he saw them run off into the blue chasing it. Many were killed just after they left, others were never heard from again. The ones he did hear of were either thieves, mercenaries, or shacked up with some of the most unsavory clans he could name. Nobody trusted ratkin, and most would just as soon kill them simply for how they looked. If their kind was to have any hope of survival on their own they'd need a common goal to work towards, and a damn good leader to keep them on track.
  
  Rabbit looked back to Milkweed and studied him intently. Milkweed in kind merely looked back with hope in his eye, but then suddenly he had to blink thrice to clear his vision. No, he wasn't hallucinating. For the briefest of seconds he knew he saw her. Those antlers, that veil, and that charming smile of hers were unmistakable. Milkweed saw Fade well... fade into being for just a moment. She reached out and touched Rabbit's shoulder, and as soon as she did Milkweed saw Rabbit's face soften considerably. And just like that she was gone, leaving Milkweed confused, surprised and staring at the buck who was eyeing him like a pawn broker eyes jewelry.
  
  Rabbit's stare lasted a moment longer, and then he asked gruffly, "You 'ave a plan?" Upon hearing that Milkweed could only smile knowingly, and nodded his head in agreement. Rabbit acknowledged him with a grunt, then grasped the blood token in his paw and held it tightly. He upended the mug, draining the last of the ale in one go and setting it back down with a solid thud. Rabbit stood up from his seat to his full imposing height, adjusted his pants, and looked to Milkweed. "S'what's first then... Cap'n?" Milkweed quickly took a last swig of his ale and dropped a few doubloons on the counter to pay for their drinks, then readjusted his cloak and answered his new First Mate, "First, we buy some loyalty."
  
• 
  
  ShendorahTrade City of LandoverThe Pits​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 2, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  
  The air was stagnant, claustrophobic, and carried the pungent odors of sweat, blood and refuse. The caverns were oppressively dark, illuminated only by torches and lanterns held by the guards that patrolled its damp pathways. The only sounds to be heard was the faint dripping of water and the occasional sob or scream. The Pits were the deepest, darkest caverns in Landover, hewn so far into the mountains that they actually dipped below the water table. While part of the caverns served as the prison for those that earned the Captain's ire, the Pits were primarily used to house the many slaves brought back by the city's myriad bands of coastal raiders. Here they stayed in the damp and dark until they were ready to be presented at markets throughout the Grotto.
  
  A small group of individuals trudged through the darkness, keeping it at bay with torches perched on the end of long rods for stability. One of them was a man with a distended belly and absolutely no sense of fashion. His clothes appeared wealthy but they were completely mismatched and proudly displayed garish colors with no cohesion between the lot of it. At his side were two tiny figures, one about three feet high and the other barely reaching two. The smaller one was cloaked while the taller one simply wore some outer clothing typical of a sailor. Flanking the lot of them was a group of four large looking individuals, two of them men and the other two orcs. All of them clearly body guards as their chests were laid bare and they were the ones holding the torches aloft for the others. The torches crackled and hissed, leaving a thin trail of smoke behind as the group plunged on towards their goal.
  
  That goal came into sight as the darkness turned truly black and the only light to be had was from the tiny sputtering of the torches. A glint of iron bars came into view, spaced tightly along the mouths of many smaller caverns lining the tunnel's path. Within these caverns huddled pitiful beings, dressed in rags and covered in their own filth. There was a large assortment of races present within these cages, though the bulk was largely that of human stock. The tiny albino walked side by side with his brown-furred companion and carefully inspected the cages as they passed by. Neither appeared to be finding what they were looking for, but Milkweed still seemed intent on searching while Rabbit appeared more skeptical and disinterested.
  
  Rabbit sighed and voiced his concerns, "Y'know this weren't wot I thought ye meant when ye said 'buyin' loyalty' at the pub." Milkweed kept searching through the cages, sometimes poking his nose close to the bars and sniffing a few times, which often elicited fear from the wretched things inside. He answered Rabbit while continuing to stalk the darkened passages with his ruby gaze, "We need specialists for our job Rabbit, and I'm more'n certain I can't buy the type of loyalty I need for as cheap as I can get down here. Up top folk would just as soon leave when they realize they'd be working for a rat, let alone once the first winter hits. But down here," Milkweed poked his nose through the bars of another cell, which garnered him a vicious growl from within that he visibly perked up at, "...Well, might be we get lucky and find some gold."
  
  Milkweed stopped in front of this new cell with a curious glint in his eyes. Inside there was only a single figure, and they were clearly chained to the opposite wall because they were straining to get at the bars with no results. Their arms were pinned back behind them, and the figure actually bit and snarled at the bars while the torchlight began to gather in the cell. Milkweed saw the green-toned skin first, followed by the glint of light off the fangs protruding from the mouth, but lastly he noticed the compact frame and distinctive heave of a bosom. An orc female wasn't exactly a rare sight in the Pits, but this one had far more fight than the average slave. She still had her sprit, which meant she was a new acquisition. Her skin was also decorated with some kind of tribal tattoos, so it was likely she knew nature and how to survive. But most of all she was dangerous, and that was something Milkweed could find a use for.
  
  "What's this one's story Greemer?" Milkweed addressed the peacock-colored man, who grinned and spoke with what was possibly the worst caricature of nobility that one could imagine, "Mmmm, hyes. This ghastly little pest was sold to me last week. I'm afraid I would need more time to break this one, too much spice for me to turn a profit off her just yet." The orc maid in the cage practically roared at these words, which caused Greemer to cringe in fear and his guards to reach for their weapons. Milkweed's smile stayed the same as he watched her, and it seemed that she had noticed the tiny rat man as well. She roared again in his direction, and the ratkin didn't bat an eye. Even Rabbit had instinctively grabbed for his dagger, but Milkweed had stood firm against her challenge. "So how much for the spitfire?" Milkweed's words roused the flesh merchant from his petrified stance and brought him back to reality. "Oh! Well uh... I suppose 200 or so would cover her costs. But are you quite sure little sir? Some of the boys tried to sample her treasures, but they... Well." The guards looked visibly uncomfortable now, some coughing, others instinctively grabbing for their groins. The orc inside grinned viciously, baring her gleaming fangs and spitting a glob of mucous on the ground near their feet that had the faintest shade of red. Milkweed actually laughed at that, which garnered a curious stare from Rabbit and a few of the guards as well.
  
  Milkweed grinned and spoke boldly, "Sold!," which caused Greemer to sigh in relief. "Very well sir, a fine purchase! Glad to be rid of the little bitch." Another roar came from inside the cage which made Greemer recoil even more forcefully. The slaver quickly waddled off down the passage with his guards following behind, leaving Milkweed and Rabbit behind until they decided to catch up. Milkweed took a long look at his new acquisition, and in that moment the two figures locked eyes. The orc was fiery and defiant, but Milkweed was cool and calculating. Hers would be a very interesting conversation indeed.
  
  Moving down the line the group passed more cells filled with more slaves of various races, sexes and states of duress. While there was a large gathering of humans there, Milkweed couldn't help but notice a fair number of the figures inside the cells were of a smaller, fuzzier nature. A selection of ratkin were available as well, and they peered out fearfully from behind the bars at the recognizable figures of their own kind. Milkweed didn't give them more than a passing glance as they went through the cells, but Rabbit was more empathetic to their plight. And seeing Milkweed be so callous about the situation wasn't doing his mood any favors, but he kept silent. He had agreed to go with Milkweed on this venture of his, and until the albino made some grievous mistake he wouldn't judge his new Captain without cause.
  
  After several more cages were passed Milkweed stopped at a particularly small cage that held no more than three individuals. Two were huddled against one wall, what looked to be a woman and child, and the other was sitting by themselves against the opposite wall. The torchlight began to illuminate the interior, and Milkweed could start to pick out more details. A scruffy, dirty beard clung to the man's face, but it was a patchwork affair that looked like it had seen abuse from the jailors. The nose was large and had a slightly reddish hue near the tip, which was some of the only color Milkweed could see on the slave's body. arms were laid bare beneath a cheap smock, which clearly showed signs of atrophy but still had hints of their former strength. The short legs sticking out beneath the smock were the part that tied it all together. A dwarf was sitting before him, staring aimlessly at the far wall without a trace of acknowledgement behind his sunken eyes. This one's spirit was rather broken already, and by the sorry state of him Milkweed guessed he'd been down in the Pits for a long, long time.
  
  Greemer noticed Milkweed staring into the cage and began to pitch his sale towards the tiny rat-man. "Ahhh, hyes! Those two in the back. I've managed to keep them together for the now, but if the child isn't to your liking I would certainly understand." The two in question began to hug each other very tightly at these words, fear blatantly obvious in their eyes. "I'll take the dwarf," Milkweed said calmly, easing the fears of the other two humans but thoroughly shocking Greemer and even a few of his guards. "That one? Surely you jest-" The look that Milkweed gave could have curdled milk, and Greemer practically wilted on the spot. "...Right, yes. Well, uh... My goodness. I should think that 50 would be a fair-" Milkweed butted in before the pigeon could finish, "Don't even try and feed me that tripe Greemer. You got that one at a discount, and you'd be lucky to break even on him at this point. 20." Greemer balked at the suggestion, pulling himself up and practically ruffling his own feathers with the motion. "Prrrrre-Posterous!" The world trilled on his tongue in a pompous roll. "I may be a gentleman, but I am first and foremost a rrrespected merchant! I have a reputation to uphold!" Greemer actually huffed and folded his arms, looking away from Milkweed indignantly.
  
  "...30!" Greemer cracked an eye and looked back to Milkweed for a response. The ratkin grinned wanly and counter-offered, "25, and not a coin more." "Deal! A bargain is strrruck!" With a flourish of his hand Greemer did a little twirl on the spot, causing his silks to spin around him like a flower that was painted by an infant. The heel of his shiny shoe clicked against the ground as he came to a stop, and then they continued onward. Milkweed noticed the dwarf actually look at him as they were leaving, and he gave the dwarf a sly wink in response. He didn't stick around long enough to see if the dwarf had caught it, but it didn't matter because Rabbit was already butting in with his two pence. "Wotcher want that one fer? Weren't nothin' but skin n' bones." Milkweed quietly spoke so that he knew only Rabbit could hear him. "Didn't you see his hands?" Rabbit thought for a second, then shook his head. Milkweed's grin stayed as he quietly explained, "Only laborers get callouses like that on their hands. He's a tradesman, and by the looks of it he worked with heavy material. Don't matter if it's stone or wood, if he knows how to build we can use him." Rabbit couldn't find a good argument to that, so he decided to stay silent and continue following their guides alongside is Captain.
  
  The group continued through the darkness without much more success. Milkweed apparently wasn't able to find any more specialists or slaves that had the kind of qualities he was looking for. Rabbit wasn't surprised, Greemer wasn't exactly known for his hospitality when it came to his stock. About an hour passed of them looking through every cage they could find, and after that Milkweed was thoroughly done with seeing so much despair and hopelessness. He sighed after they were done inspecting the last cage, then looked up to Greemer and offered his last deal. "Alright, I think I've seen enough. So it's the she-orc, the dwarf man with the patch-beard, and every ratkin you have in here." Greemer's face broke into a serpent's grin as he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Of course! That would just bring your total up to-" The grin suddenly shifted into one of pure shock, "WOT!" Greemer quickly coughed and tried his best to compose himself. "Milkweed, Silver Shadow, Sir. Surely you cahn't be serious?" Milkweed only held his gaze in response, his face perfectly maintaining that tiny little grin of his. Greemer looked to Rabbit for confirmation on this, but the large buck was completely stoic as well. Greemer could actually see the muscles flex in his arms and shoulders, and somehow he knew that he wasn't going to get out of this deal. "...Hyes, of course. But see, I'm afraid I have some orders in for some of the other ratkin I have in stock. I'd have to cancel those contracts, and that just wouldn't be proper for a merchant of my-" Milkweed cut Greemer off by holding up his paw and showing the blood token he held between his fingers. The peacock's eyes bulged in response, and Milkweed could actually see a bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. He flicked the gem up into the air, and Greemer grabbed for it in an unceremonious panic. After nearly dropping the jewel he grasped it tightly in his hands, then opened them just slightly to look at his newfound wealth. His eyes seemed to glitter off the token's fire, and Milkweed could only look on in amusement. "...So it's a deal then?" Greemer didn't even answer, he just nodded his head like an imbecile without tearing his eyes away from his prize. Milkweed smiled and nodded, then turned to leave with Rabbit back out of the cave and into the light once more.
  
  Milkweed started to talk logistics with his First Mate as they progressed upwards. "So I still need you to go topside and gather as many tails as you can. We'll need all the paws we can get if we're gonna make this work. Start with the ones you trust most, then work out from there. And uh..." Milkweed motioned slightly towards the cages as he continued, "Try to stay away from the raiding ships. Some of them mighta been responsible our new help." Rabbit nodded knowingly at that. He'd already considered that tactic, but it was good to know Milkweed was considering all the angles.
  
  Milkweed was about to discuss food concerns, but just when he opened his mouth he looked ahead and saw a faint figure off the distance. Her again, and Milkweed could not have been more sure that he saw her there. Without saying a word Milkweed followed the phantom of Fade into the darkness where he saw her last, causing Rabbit to call out in confusion and concern. This piqued the interest of Greemer and his guards, who soon began to follow Milkweed alongside Rabbit in a confused state. Milkweed wandered past another cage mouth, then ducked behind a seemingly innocuous pile of rocks. Rabbit was intrigued by this, and allowed his curiosity to take over as he followed Milkweed into the darkness. However Greemer was suddenly distressed by this, and began to call out to Milkweed in a mild panic. "Uh, Sir! Yes uh, heheh, good sir! There's nothing down there, I assure you! Please come back before you become lost! Ha ha! Ha..." But Milkweed wasn't listening, he was hot on the trail left by his fairy and he wasn't letting up for anything. He barely heard Greemer curse and shout behind him as he trudged onward, following a thin, winding trail that cut through the rocks like a vein.
  
  It only took a few moments for Milkweed to find the end of it, but once he did he couldn't have been more glad. The secret passage had led into a hidden grotto within the Pits, and it was filled with huge crates, lavish chests and a few special cages that seemed to house unique animals. A small inlet washed water gently against the dark rocks, and the breeze Milkweed felt told him that it connected to the main Grotto outside somewhere. This was clearly Greemer's private stash, and Milkweed had followed Fade to find it. But what was it that she wanted him to find? Beyond a pile of crates Milkweed heard something that sounded halfway between a roar and the squeal of an angry boar, and in his gut he knew that was his prize. Milkweed ducked around the crates, followed closely by Rabbit, and the sight that they found left them both speechless. Chained to the very ground was a massive being of fat, muscle, and more fat. It's pale orange skin looked sickly in the dark light, but the rest of it looked as healthy as one could expect. Its arms were the size of tree trunks, its gut the size of a boulder, and its teeth were as long as knives.
  
  An ogre, full grown and in perfectly good health, was sleeping on the ground and being held in place by at least two dozen thick iron chains. Milkweed laughed in excitement when he saw the hulking beast, and his eyes lit up with possibility. Rabbit looked to the beast and back to his Captain with dread, and it was then that Greemer and his men finally caught up with the two ratkin. Greemer was wheezing considerably, but his men were just fine and had stuck their torches in the ground to reach for their weapons. "Hah... Hoo... Hee... I, uh... See that... You've found a secret. Hehe... hoooo..." Greemer doubled over, clutching his knees and trying desperately to catch his breath. Rabbit spun around, dagger in hand and already flashing his steel at the swords being drawn by the guards. Greemer managed to catch some of his wind back and stood up straight, strolling over to the ratkin with a swagger in his step. "I'm afraid I can't let you two live after seeing all this. Too much capital is at stake here. You understand, hyes?"
  
  Milkweed didn't move, and instead simply threw a handful of something onto the ground near the guard's feet. Three blood tokens flashed in the torchlight, and the guards instantly looked to them. Then they looked to each other. There was a tense silence, and after a brief moment where Rabbit took the opportunity to step back, the four guards suddenly erupted into violence. Swords flashed, fists flew, and the four were instantly entangled in each other fighting over the precious stones. Milkweed turned around slowly to look at Greemer, whose brow had begun to visibly sweat. "Well... Um... Heheh..." He laughed nervously to hide his own fear. Rabbit boldly took a few steps towards the over-dressed man, which made Greemer reel back in terror. He misstepped, and caught the hem of his own silks with the heel of his shiny shoes. He tumbled to the ground in a heap, and in an instant Rabbit was standing on his chest with a knife to his throat.
  
  Milkweed chuckled to himself as he walked around the fighting guards and stepped right next to Greemer's head. The merchant was terrified, and tears were silently streaming from the corners of his eyes as he sobbed pathetically. "Oh please sir, spare me! I'll give you whatever you want. Just please let me live!" Milkweed kneeled down so his ratty mouth was right in front of Greemer's face. "Anything?" Milkweed's lips curled in a grisly fashion, showing off his overly large rodent teeth. Milkweed could practically hear the pitiful worm piss himself in fear, and watched happily as he quickly nodded his head. Milkweed slowly opened his mouth, making it look like he was about to gnaw on Greemer's face, then suddenly pulled back and spoke as politely as he could muster, "Then we'll take the ogre as well." Both Greemer and Rabbit looked aghast.
  
  Rabbit was the first to speak up, "Y'sure there Cap'n? That one'd be right a challenge, no doubt." Greemer spoke up too in indignation, "But -EYRGH!" He choked as Rabbit put a bit more pressure on the blade. Once he eased off Greemer coughed once and tried again, "...I can't! I have an iron-clad contract with Captain Sykes for that ogre!" Rabbit growled at the bleating peacock, which caused him to yelp in fear. But Milkweed simply reached into his cloak and pulled out a closed fist. "Of course I wouldn't ask this without proper compensation. To cover your expenses," Milkweed opened his paw and let five more tokens drop next to Greemer's face, which his eyes tracked like they were life itself, "And to buy your cooperation, of course." Milkweed motioned for Rabbit to release Greemer, which he did with a reluctant grunt. As soon as the hefty ratkin was off his torso Greemer spun in place and immediately grabbed at the red tears. He looked between them and Milkweed a few times before he slowly nodded his head. Milkweed smiled at this, then turned on his heel and began walking towards the crevice entrance, shouting over his shoulder as he did. "Have our purchases delivered to the Spearhead at the Long Pier in two days!" Milkweed didn't even bother to look back, knowing full well that Greemer would make good on his deal or else suffer the Silver Shadow's wrath.
  
  Rabbit looked back over his shoulder at the sorry pile of thugs, one fawning over tiny red gems while the others continued to fight tooth and nail for their own slice of wealth. He shook his head and turned back, following Milkweed into the narrow passageway and beyond. Their kind did well in low-light situations, so the torches were completely unnecessary for them to navigate the crevice. As they got closer to the main passageway, Rabbit couldn't help but float a question towards his Captain. "So how'd ye know to look here anyway?" Rabbit couldn't see it, but Milkweed was grinning. "Just followed a hunch, really." Rabbit didn't know why, but for a second he thought he heard a tiny giggle somewhere behind him in the dark.
  
• 
  
  ShendorahTrade City of LandoverThe Long Pier​
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 0
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 4, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  
  The sun was shining through the clouds, marking today as particularly rare for Landover. Its warm rays basked those below in a comforting embrace as they went about their day. All along the city docks sailors could be seen scurrying between their ships, carrying cargo, shifting supplies or making repairs as necessary. But among the branching docks and piers one in particular was the busiest of all. A long stretch of reinforced wood jutted out from the mouth of the Grotto, forming a wooden road above the water four yards wide and over 100 long. The Long Pier was the spine of Landover's docking network, from which all other piers sprouted like a wooden ribcage. And it was the only pier big enough to house the largest ships that came to port.
  
  Moored at the very end of the pier was a large 40-gun galleon. It wasn't the largest ever seen in Landover but it was certainly nothing to sneeze at. It had three stout masts with a macabre collection of black, patchwork sails hanging from the yardarms. Some of the gun covers were suspiciously devoid of ordinance but the majority of the cannons were still present and accounted for. The ship's figurehead was a finely crafted piece of lumber shaped into the likeness of a woman holding out a spear in a guiding fashion. And at the very stern of the ship was a long wooden placard with a name proudly carved into its grain. The Spearhead.
  
  The Spearhead was seeing an especially large amount of traffic today as porters hauled freight by hand and winch up the gang plank and into the hold below decks. A wide selection of men had been hired to help haul the freight, but mixed among them was a fair number of ratkin. Many of them looked as grizzled and salty as the men they were assisting. And though it took three ratkin to make up the strength of a single humanoid, they certainly didn't lack for spirit. Dozens of eager paws raced to a fro to bring on as much supply as they could get, for today was a day of change. Rabbit had done well in his recruiting. He only had to visit a few of the haunts he frequented to get the rumor mill started, and once he had he quickly found himself overwhelmed with more help than he could handle. Sea rats voided their contracts, crafters and merchants shuttered their doors, and even the bar crawlers had sobered up to take part in this new venture. Many brought friends and loved ones in tow, and by the second day Rabbit actually had to turn away hopefuls for a simple lack of space aboard the ship. Everyone that Rabbit had vetted and cleared was assisting with the preparations, filled with energy and brimming with excitement at what was to come.
  
  Overseeing the chaos were two figures standing at the end of the gangplank. The diligent Harkin fussed over a board with several lists tacked to it, carefully ticking off items as they came aboard and making disapproving glares at the ratkin he caught trying to slip 'found' goods past him. Beside him was a surly Boulder Rabbit, doing his level best to remain calm among the insanity that engulfed him. But his fur was starting to bristle with just how many antics he was having to put down in order to keep the peace. In less than an hour he'd caught four pickpockets thieving from the porters, over a dozen rats nicking foodstuffs out of the stores, and two separate instances of lovebirds trying to get intimate behind the crates. Rabbit could practically feel his fur going gray as he desperately tried to get the ship ready to launch.
  
  Far above all the mayhem was a lone white figure, standing proudly atop the crow's nest and looking down at his work. Milkweed hadn't expected this much interest in his little venture when he sent Rabbit out recruiting, but he couldn't be happier with the results. They had more than enough paws to get their settlement off the ground, and what's more they all seemed eager for the chance. But Milkweed couldn't shake the feeling of doubt slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. This was a lot of kin to care for, and like it or not they were going to be looking to him for leadership. Could he do it? Could he get a home built for everyone here? Could he see them through their first winter? ...How long until one of them died for the sake of his goal?
  
  These negative thoughts had gradually been clouding Milkweed's mind the past two days, and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to cope with everything the future had in store. Thankfully he was pulled out of his rumination by a commotion on the docks below. The teeming swarm of ratkin on the pier that looked like ants from this height were parting down the center, making way for a long line of individuals being directed by hard men with weapons and a particularly bright speck of color near the front. Milkweed grinned in anticipation, and without a sound he flung himself over the lip of the crow's nest and began sliding down the rigging to the deck below. Quick as lightning Milkweed was at the bottom of the rigging, and before anyone could even register that he had descended he quickly chucked himself over the side of the vessel towards the edge of the dock. He reached out his paws and grasped the wood firmly, pulling himself in against the brine-soaked wood. Then he began to stealthily crawl along the outer edge of the docks, beyond the gaze of the gathered porters, ratkin and the eccentric Greemer leading his somber parade.
  
  The fat man in question was practically dancing down the docks as he headed the delivery of slaves towards the Spearhead. His silks and sashes twirled about him as he skip-stepped merrily along the planks, completely oblivious to the odd stares he received from the crowd and the trail of despair leading away behind him. When he finally got to the end of the dock he finished his little jaunt with a twirl, then placed both of his hands squarely on his hips before calling out to the overseers at the gangplank, "Ahoy mateys! Might I inquire as to the whereabouts of your illustrious Captain?" Rabbit couldn't have given Greemer a more sour glare, but after a few seconds that glare smoothly turned into a wolfish grin. "Oh don't ye be worryin' there matey, the Cap'n's always about."
  
  Unbeknownst to Greemer, Milkweed had already slipped up to the docks and had woven his way through the crowd when the peacock had started speaking. By the time Rabbit had finished, Milkweed had slipped behind Greemer and just barely grazed the hairs on his leg with the tip of his tail. Greemer nearly jumped out of his skin at the foreign contact, losing his balance and falling on his rear once more. The crowd erupted in hearty laughter at the spectacle, which lasted a full ten seconds before the guffaws started to die down. Once the moment passed the porters gradually returned to their work, still chuckling to themselves as the last bits of cargo were moved onboard. Milkweed was still smiling as he asked a few paws to help the flesh merchant up off the pier. They did so, and Greemer rather indignantly allowed himself to be hauled upright.
  
  With a huff Greemer grabbed his silks and quickly adjusted them, then turned towards the tiny assassin and stared down his nose at the albino. "Harrrumph! Do you always treat your business partners in such manner?" Milkweed's smile was pleasant and inviting, "Only the ones that deserve it, Greemer." The man grumbled in his throat, but he gave no further protest on the matter. Milkweed nodded with a pleased grin, then turned to look over the stock he had purchased. There was one obvious absence, of which he made mention, "So where is our large friend?" Greemer grinned knowingly at this and made a very showy pointing motion towards the mouth of the Grotto. Milkweed could barely see it, but there was an unmistakably large blob of mass being led down the Long Pier. Greemer folded his hands into his silks and proudly explained, "Yourrr purchase is a bit sluggish today courtesy of the 'incentive' we gave him. But it will keep him placid until the effects wear off in a few hours." Milkweed nodded, having a good idea what drug they gave the beast to force its compliance. He couldn't imagine the dosage needed to affect such a large being. Greemer reached into his robes and pulled out a pouch the size of an apple, then leaned down so he could hand it to Milkweed. "There aught be enough for two more days, should you have need of it." Milkweed looked up and took the bag, tying it to his belt and nodding his thanks towards Greemer.
  
  Milkweed waited a few more minutes for the last of the train to make their way up the pier. Once all the slaves had been gathered in front of the Spearhead Milkweed took a moment to inspect them. They looked about as ragged and hopeless as he expected, but they didn't appear to be abused near as he could tell. It would seem Greemer was a true businessman after all, and had kept his guards from 'playing' with any of the purchased stock. He was especially glad to see that the she-orc and the dwarf didn't have any new marks on them since the last time he saw them. In fact it looked like the dwarf's scraggly beard had been combed in anticipation for today.
  
  Milkweed nodded approvingly at what he saw, then turned to Greemer and addressed him in a businesslike manner, "Greemer, I find my purchases to be agreeable. Would this conclude our deal?" Greemer bowed deeply and answered as he always did, "I gladly conclude our deal. This prrroperty is now yours." He then stood up straight and offered Milkweed a key ring with several tiny iron keys. Milkweed nodded his agreement, took the keys gratefully, then turned and passed them to some of the gathered ratkin. "Get those shackles off our kin." The volunteer ratkin were more than happy to oblige, and very quickly began to unshackle the restraints that were worn by the indentured ratkin. Greemer looked shocked for a moment, looking askance at Milkweed at the audacity of the situation. But after a moment his face started to soften, and then the man actually started to laugh. It was an incredibly unpleasant laugh, very shrill and far too nasally, but it was genuine. Greemer waved off the situation and composed himself, "Hee hee hee hee! I suspected you might do this. Such a noble rat you are Milkweed." Greemer signaled for his guards to disperse, their job was done here. They shrugged and shouldered their weapons, leaving Milkweed with his purchases as they made their way back down the pier towards the Grotto. Greemer waved and called out over his shoulder as he left the rats to their business, "Best of luck to you, Silver Shadow!"
  
  Milkweed barely gave the man a second thought as he left. Now that the pleasantries were out of the way he could move on to matters of actual import. He watched as the shackled ratkin were systematically freed of their bonds. Many of them looked skeptical, searching about as if there was some kind of hidden danger to be wary of. Others looked fearful, completely unsure of what this treatment was meant to imply. But a few among them looked hopeful, and that faint glimmer of hope started to quietly spread among the crowd.
  
  They gathered before Milkweed, standing silent and waiting for some kind of direction on what was to happen. When the last ratkin had been set loose and clustered into the group, Milkweed turned and hoisted himself atop a wooden bollard standing above the pier. He looked out on the disheveled crowd and puffed out his chest, taking in a deep breath before speaking in a loud but calm manner, "As of this moment, you are all freed of your bonds. You are now your own masters, and in return I ask only that you stay and listen." The crowd stayed mostly silent, but there was a few outbreaks of timid smiles and joyous sobbing amid the utter shock. But they all stayed and listened, enraptured by the one that had singlehandedly bought all of them their freedom. Milkweed continued, "We set sail today in search of a new home. A home built by our own paws, a home that we can proudly say is well and truly ours. And, Mother willing, a home that will last a hundred generations and more." The crowd was looking more skeptical now, with small groups beginning to chatter among themselves. But Milkweed pressed on, "If any of you are not willing to take that chance, then I free you of any obligation you have to me. If you have kin or a life somewhere, or some other obligation that calls you, then go and follow it. I don't have much left but I will offer what I can, and there are those in town that might help as well." Some in the crowd started to look more thoughtful at this, likely remembering past lives before they were violently ripped away from them. Milkweed gave them all a few moments to ponder before he spoke again, "But if you have nowhere to go, or if you think our cause worthy, then I ask you to come aboard with me. You will have food, shelter... And maybe even family, in time."
  
  A long silence followed, broken only by the distant noise of dock workers and the cry of gullsong. The gathered ratkin were in the familiar state of being left with their own thoughts. But now they had a choice, a liberty which none would have dared to hope for. Many of them appeared to be deep in their own minds, weighing their options and deciding what was truly best for them. Then one stepped forward out of the crowd. A black-furred doe with two pups, covered by a grimy shawl and nothing else. Her steps were small and timid, and the little ones hid behind her shawl, staring on with wide, curious eyes. Milkweed hopped down off the bollard so that he was at eye level with the doe. She took a few more steps towards Milkweed, then outstretched a shaking paw. Milkweed slowly and gently grasped it in his own, and the doe nodded her head in deference to him.
  
  Then the tears started. It was slow at first, and the doe didn't even seem to notice as she maintained eye contact with Milkweed the whole time. But soon the tears grew in intensity, and the doe started to sob in restrained hiccups. A moment later and her legs gave out, her strength completely drained from everything that she had endured up to this point. Instinctively Milkweed got on his knees and held the doe to him, allowing her to grip him as tightly as her weakened state could manage. The pups were quick to follow, burrowing themselves between the two adults as they too began to wail. And once one started the rest of the gathering quickly followed suit. Tears and sobs rang out in the crowd like a chorus, and ratkin began to pair off with each other for comfort as the reality of it all sunk in. Many of the prior slaves grouped together, but the volunteer ratkin joined the group just as quickly. The emotions being processed were immense, and many of the onlookers couldn't help but get sucked in by the spectacle. Even Harkin's eyes turned glassy at the sight, and Rabbit's cheeks were dampened by a few tears of his own.
  
  Eventually the moment passed, and the former slaves began to find their strength once again. With the help of the volunteers they slowly began to make their way aboard the Spearhead. Milkweed helped the dark-furred doe up himself, along with the help of the two pups she had with her. Once they'd finished crying the pups seemed completely eager to get on the ship and explore, and the doe couldn't help but smile through the latent tears that misted her eyes. Milkweed saw her off to the gangplank, then stepped back and watched as he witnessed his would-be neighbors commit to their first true act of cooperation. Seeing these ratkin help each other so selflessly, with nothing more than a promise of a future to work towards keeping them together, it filled Milkweed with hope. Maybe they could do this after all.
  
  As the last few freed ratkin made their way aboard the vessel, Milkweed was pleased to see that only a half dozen stayed behind. They quietly stepped forward and explained that they had kin to find, answers to seek, and one sought vengeance for that which was done to them. Milkweed nodded knowingly, and directed them to Harkin for a care package to help them on their way. Milkweed had leftover funds as credit in Harkin's books following their negotiations, and he felt some of that would be enough to get these six started on their journeys. Milkweed bid them farewell, then turned to look at the last three slaves still left in chains.
  
  Milkweed hadn't been careless when he told the ratkin to release their 'kin' from the shackles. He'd intentionally left the two humanoids restrained and under guard while the ratkin tended to their business. And now that it was over, he walked over to his last purchases and looked up at the two of them. The dwarf barely responded at all, still very much stuck in his own mind. However the she-orc was just as furious as when he first saw her, and she violently jerked at the chains being held by eight other ratkin to keep her in place. She practically roared at Milkweed in a strange islander accent, "Oh! So NOW da ratty wants tah talk! Wat'sa mattah dere whitey? We not whiskered 'nuff for ya precious mercy!?" Milkweed ignored the orc's ranting for a moment as he looked towards the dwarf. He was worried about this one, worried that he was too far gone to ever be useful again. But somehow he had a feeling this would work out.
  
  And with that Milkweed turned to address the orc properly and hopefully allay her concerns. "No, I don't think you are lesser for not being a rat. If that's what you mean." The orc woman growled violently as she shook her chains further, but she immediately calmed down when she saw Milkweed motion towards one of the guards. The ratkin tossed Milkweed the keyring, which he caught deftly in his paw. The albino looked up at the orc with a serious glint in his eye. He wasn't going to play games with her as he suspected her jailors had done. He was going to be completely honest. "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't run away before you saw what I was about. What I said was true, I am going to build a home for us out there." The she-orc snorted derisively at Milkweed, still unconvinced of his intentions. "So watcha need me for, eh? Ya got a ting for greenskins?" Milkweed stated flatly, "Because you're a hunter." The she-orc immediately clammed up, and looked down to Milkweed in shock only to see his serious expression break into a knowing grin. He pointed to the markings on her arm, "Those mark you as a hunter from your tribe, don't they? And I'll need a good hunter to teach us how to fend of the land." The orc looked to her arm where the tribal tattoos were marked in white pigment, then looked back to Milkweed incredulously. Milkweed nodded twice, then continued, "I've seen those marks before, a few of your kind have wound up here as hired muscle. Spent a few nights buying drinks for one with a broken tusk to learn about those tattoos." The she-orc could only stare in amazement at what this tiny white rat was saying. She didn't think anyone outside of her home had any knowledge of her kind, much less any desire to learn anything about them before writing them off as monsters.
  
  Milkweed took a few steps towards the huntress and held up the keys for her to see. "I'm giving you and the dwarf a different offer than the rest. You work for me for five years. Or until I die, whichever comes first. After that you're free to do as you like." The huntress was still slack jawed for a moment, but then her old fire seemed to return and her eyes locked into a hardened gaze. She bent over so her face was just above Milkweed's, and she lowly growled out her ultimatum, "An' what's tah keep me from killin' ya maself, little ratty?" Milkweed met her gaze with a cool, viscious glare of his own. "You can try, little orc." Milkweed's eyes were filled with the cold, hoary stillness that only a trained killer could muster. And for a second he knew he saw the she-orc's gaze flinch. He grinned, and with a flick of his tail the huntress suddenly found that her arms were free. She hadn't even noticed the albino's tail snake around her back, much less knew he was dexterous enough with it to operate the keys. She straightened up and instinctively rubbed her wrists to get the feeling back, looking on in shock as Milkweed released the shackles around her feet.
  
  Once she was free Milkweed stepped back and looked to the orc woman expectantly, "So what's it gonna be?" The huntress looked to Milkweed, then to the ship, then back to the Grotto and all of Landover above. Then, from seemingly nowhere, an impressively loud gurgling noise rung out that almost seemed to echo off the far peaks. Milkweed and the guards looked around for a second to see where the noise came from, but then Milkweed stopped when he noticed the huntress' cheeks start to darken. He looked to her stomach, then grinned when he saw her head fly around to stare him dead in the eyes. She pointed a clawed hand at him and shouted angrily, "UNTIL ya DEAD ratty! Dat's ya deal!" And then she stormed off up the gangplank, screaming her frustrations the whole way up and then back down again below decks, where the sudden sounds of violence and rage scattered any wayward ratkin that had any shred of self preservation instinct.
  
  Milkweed watched her go with amusement. 'That went rather well,' he thought to himself as he turned around to look back at the dwarf. His mood fell when he saw the vacant humanoid standing there like a statue. He walked over and began unlocking the dwarf's shackles, who didn't respond in the slightest to his sudden emancipation. With the shackles off Milkweed handed the keys back to one of the guards so he could focus on the broken soul before him. Milkweed reached up and gently grabbed the dwarf's forearm as he spoke, "You heard what I told the orc girl right?" No response. Milkweed tried again, "You're free to go. Or you can work for me for a few years, then you can do as you like. That sound fair?" Complete silence. Milkweed sighed heavily, then motioned for the ratkin guards and directed them to make the dwarf comfortable aboard. They did so, gently guiding the dwarf aboard with no resistance on his part.
  
  Milkweed shook his head, unsure of what to do with the dwarf in the long term. Then he looked to the pier where his largest acquisition was finally being brought up. The beast was definitely sluggish on whatever cocktail Greemer had made for it, and the beast was staggering around like it was ten drinks under the table. Greemer's thugs were more pulling the ogre than trying to goad it along with pain and threats. Rabbit made his way down the gangplank and stood next to Milkweed, motioning towards the giant as he asked, "So wotcher wanna do with him?" Milkweed didn't take long to respond, he'd already planned ahead for this. "Get him chained up below decks near the ballast, away from any cargo and living things. We'll feed him daily and give him enough booze to put him to sleep each night. After that... Well I'm hoping we'll earn its trust before our stores run dry." Rabbit looked to Milkweed curiously, but he couldn't exactly fault the initial plan. The long term ramifications had him worried though, and he looked to Milkweed with a pointed stare that said more than his words could. Milkweed watched as the ogre was led up the gangplank, causing the wood to groan in protest under its massive weight. He smiled wanly as he tried to alleviate Rabbit's fears, "Worse comes to worse we'll put it down. But until then it'd be mighty handy to have strength like that on our side." Rabbit processed that answer, then nodded his head. It would have to do for now.
  
  
  Finally their preparations were complete. All the stores were brought aboard (including some extra when Harkin wasn't looking), all the crew and passengers were as secured as they could be, and the winds were just starting to pick up. Milkweed was on deck making last minute inspections with Rabbit in tow. The sea rats Rabbit had specifically found to crew the ship were standing by, awaiting orders at their stations. After Milkweed made one last round of the ship he nodded his head approvingly to Rabbit. He stood tall and proud, and with as much command as he could muster he made his first order. "Cast off!" Rabbit immediately parroted the command in his large booming voice to the rest of the crew, "Aye, cast off! Raise anchor! Haul in all lines! Heave to ya salty rats!" The gathered ratkin scattered into action, hauling in hawsers and heaving around on the capstan winch to raise the anchor from the bay. Sailors on the dock heaved the mooring lines up towards the rats on deck when commanded. And just like that the Spearhead was underway. Her sails had caught the wind, and she lazily made her way out of the mouth of the port between the jagged rocks that lined the entrance.
  
  Once they had cleared the bay Rabbit looked to Milkweed expectantly from the helm. "Well Cap'n, ye've kept it secret long enough methinks. What be our headin'?" Milkweed looked out onto the main deck of the ship where practically every ratkin and the orc huntress had decided to watch the launch. They were now all looking to him with anticipation. Milkweed's cheeky smile quietly crept onto his mouth, and he spoke loud enough for all to hear. "Why don't we ask our navigator?" Milkweed looked towards the bow of the ship, completely devoid of anyone since everyone was gathered near the helm in the stern. All eyes looked forward, confused at what Milkweed was implying. Then a sudden gust picked up, impossibly knocking loose one of the forward black sails from its lashing. The wind whipped the sail to and fro, but on its last pass it seemed to tie itself back to its rigging all on its own. And there she was, as if the passing of the sail had conjured her into existence.
  
  A wave of gasps and exclamations rang out through the crowd as most were awestruck by Fade's appearance. None of them had ever seen a being so elegant, so ethereal, so magical and strange. The huntress in particular was taken aback by her appearance, so much so that she had instinctively grabbed the spear she'd found in the armory below. Rabbit too was struck dumb by Fade, but he was one of the first to recover from the shock. He looked to Milkweed for some kind of clarification, but Milkweed simply pointed towards his fairy. Fade had gracefully turned, seemingly floating in place, and was pointing out to sea in a particular direction. Rabbit saw this and looked to Milkweed, who merely nodded his head. Rabbit nodded in kind, then shouted out his new orders. "Right, 'Elmsman! Come to port! Bearin'..." Rabbit checked the ship's compass next to the wheel to verify Fade's direction. "...Bearin' One One Zero!" The helmsrat gave out a hearty "Aye!" in response, then spun the wheel so the ship came about.
  
  Milkweed looked on in anticipation. He didn't have a clue where they were heading, but he trusted that it was exactly where they needed to be.
  
  
  
  ShendorahShendoran WastesSouthern Coastline​
  
  
  
  Stonemoor's Prosperity
  Population: 8
  Economy: 0
  Military Might: 0
  Technological Advancements: 0
  Citizen Happiness: 5
  
  Day 10, Month 1, Year 1 of the 501st Convergence Cycle
  
  
  It had been six days since they left port, and Fade still hadn't taken them out into the open ocean. Milkweed was in his stateroom checking the naval charts with Rabbit, and they were both sure that the vessel was hugging the Shendoran coast. Wherever they were heading it wasn't anywhere south. Milkweed speculated they weren't going to leave the main continent, and that perhaps Fade was leading them around the southern peninsula to reach the northern coast. He couldn't think of anywhere else that was reasonably suitable for their kind that wasn't claimed by some other nation or kingdom.
  
  Then they heard it, a cry from above decks. The two ratkin looked to each other, then bolted out the door to see what was happening. Other ratkin had come up as well from below, and once outside they could clearly hear the sounds from crow's nest. "LAND HO!" Milkweed headed up to the bow and stood next to Fade, who hadn't dropped her arm once since she'd started guiding the ship. Milkweed looked on, completely confused as to why they were pulling in now. They still hadn't even left the Shendoran island. Where had Fade brought them?
  
  The rising sun began to part the morning fog on the water, and in the distance an outline of land could be seen. Craggy mountains off in the far distance, and a coastline slowly taking shape. Sagging trees with gnarled roots that reached down, not through soil but still water. Rocks and other detritus jutted from the shoal water, with a cloying stillness hanging in the air. And above it all was the unmistakable silhouette of a giant pillar made of black stone.
  
  Milkweed was dumbfounded. He turned to look to Fade but found that she had already evaporated without a trace. Then he looked back and saw that all eyes were on him. There was confusion, resentment, fear, and an underlying current of anger coming from the crowd. Rabbit too was looking to Milkweed with a disapproving glare. This was not what anyone had in mind. The Spire was the sole landmark of a cursed bog, the site of countless failed cultures from every corner of western Aldelor. Milkweed had promised a home, and instead he gave them a swamp.
  
  Doubt and fear welled in Milkweed's heart. He didn't know what Fade was playing at, but he hadn't expected anything like this. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more confident he felt in his actions. He'd brought an entire ship of hopefuls out into the unknown. A gaggle of strangers had banded together under a common cause and had become friendly in doing so. They were a group now, a collective, a community. And it was going to be Milkweed's job to lead them and keep them motivated through the trials to come.
  
  Milkweed puffed out his chest and spoke boldly, surprising even himself with how far his voice reached. "This is where we build our home. Together, we'll make this work." A calm wind blew from the bow of the ship, a warm breeze that seemed to calm Milkweed's nerves. And as he watched the gathered souls before him, he noticed that they too seemed to be calmed by the wind. Milkweed looked behind him and just barely caught Fade's outline floating above the waves before she vanished from sight. Milkweed turned back and saw that the anger had mostly melted, but the trepidation remained.
  
  Rabbit made his way through the crowd and stood at the bow with Milkweed, looking out at their intended destination. "So... We make berth 'ere?" Milkweed looked on as well, nodding towards the larger buck's statement. Rabbit sighed loudly, then hiked up his pants and cracked his knuckles. "Well... leastways we won't 'ave to fight no one fer it." Milkweed couldn't help but laugh at the macabre truth of Rabbit's words.
  
  The albino, former assassin and now unofficial leader, looked on to the horizon with hope in his heart. They would either make this work, or die trying.
  

 

[Nyq]

Vethenia
Day 1, Month 1 of the Year in the 501st Convergence Cycle.
View attachment 527756

Population: 16
Economy: 2.5
Military Might: 9
Technological Advancements: 15
Citizen Happiness: 7

Herphaeus stood in silence as the argument about life and death went on. He would've spoken in favour of Kul'tir, as his nation did play a huge role in Vethenia's unification. Steeling himself for the inevitable hostile response, he took a step forward, and prepared to speak. However, a jab, followed by a disapproving look from Messaline stopped him. Her looks told him everything that he needed to know, that it's probably for the best that he just let the argument play out.

Then, the mediator had spoken against Kul'Tir's fairy. Apparently, she made an inappropriate comment against another ruler, although he didn't see said ruler anywhere nearby. Peculiar, that a fairy would arrive at the convergence without a ruler, and it doesn't seem like it was one of those rulerless fairies that roam the realm. Perhaps said ruler is elsewhere, dealing with other rulers in matters of diplomacy. It also seems like the nation of Trotopolis would really like to stay out of this issue, Herphaeus made a mental note about it, just in case it might prove useful in the future. However, he decided to not ponder further and focus on his own matters instead.

The man stood silent for a moment, waiting for the tensions to pass before he finally approached Kul'Tir, for he had matters to discuss with the undead monarch.

"Lord Kul'Tir, I believe that we have a few matters we have to discuss today, for the joint benefit of our nations."

​

Karcen
61 posts until the next Convergence

 

[Karcen]

ARRAN'AK

Day 2, Month 1, Year 1, 501st Convergence Cycle
​

Nation's Stats
Population: 15
Economy: 8
Military Might: 19
Technological Advancements: 12
Citizen Happiness: 8

Kul'tir was glad to have a friendly voice speak up as the others were remaining to the side, Kul'tir was aware there was a line drawn . Those that would believe as the fairy, that undeath was not life and those that would accept that life continued for long as you continued to experience things. Kul'tir found that undeath was an extention of life, a putting off of death and perhaps a complete refusal; but not even the eternal planned to rule forever. Either way it seemed that the first country had decided to in a way declare for him over the sinister fairy. Herphaeus could be counted on as an ally, not only had the undead helped in his countries creation, but the man himself seemed open to other definitions of life. There was a large distance between Arran'ak and Vethenia , something that would need to be fixed by an expansion from coast to cost of his landmass. The various lesser kingdoms, many without a fairy, were no where near the area he would need so little fuss would be put up. With cities on both coasts shipping times could be cut down until his air ships were completed then the reliance on the sea would be lessened.

" Of course my friend" Kul'tir said turning back to a friendly person almost grandfatherly in his warmth " What is the venture you wish to discuss?" He asked.

 

[Nyq]

Vethenia
Day 1, Month 1 of the Year in the 501st Convergence Cycle.

Population: 16
Economy: 2.5
Military Might: 9
Technological Advancements: 15
Citizen Happiness: 7

Herphaeus felt a sense of relief upon Kul'Tir's friendly response to his words. He had feared that the heated argument just minutes prior might had negatively affected the ruler of Arran'ak's mood, which would most certainly lead to less desirable outcomes. Fortunately, that seems to not be the case. Reassured, the nominal ruler of all of Vethenia voiced out his requests.

"Ah, yes. Vethenia would like to establish a formal embassy in Arran'ak, as well as hosting an intellectual exchange between our nations. This could only benefit the development of the arts and sciences in both of our lands. What do you say of this proposal, Lord Kul'Tir?"

Herphaeus then stood silent, and waited for a response from his counterpart.
​

Karcen
59 posts until the next Convergence