Fantasy Eternal Conquest

[Scatterbrain]

Voyka recognized just how much Aranea had already impacted the forest with her presence there, admiring the atmosphere as much as it brought a chill to her. It was something to aspire to in her eyes, though not right now, as presenting a grandmotherly exterior to her surroundings always catches outsiders off more given her reputation. In one moment, one of the spiders even fell atop her head, prompting her to raise her hand as to allow them to be brought to the ground, though not before petting it.

Having dismounted and allowed the spider to return to the others, Voyka watched as one of Aranea's scouts approached. "Of course." Voyka responded simply, as she followed the guide deeper into the forest.

As Voyka marched deeper into the camp, the presence of the larger spiders reminded her of both their commonalities, and their differences. The Rogovci and the Neurachnids had been cut down by forces greater than their own, yet Aranea remained close with other arachnids while she was a pariah to those like her. Their kin each had psychic abilities, yet her kin specialized in the land of the unconscious while Aranea's specialized in the land of the conscious. And the moment they first met years ago, Aranea realized Voyka was keeping her abilities, the ones that got her kin slain, hidden, just as Voyka realized Aranea kept her ambitions of Regis' demise hidden; and the two have kept quiet on the other's secret since.

One day, Voyka knew, she would achieve what Aranea had among her people, carving out a sect of people just like her... someday.

Voyka had grown used to witnessing Aranea's form approaching from the distance, but just as one could be caught off-guard by her own grandmotherly nature, she was sure others would be caught off-guard by the beauty of the spider's webbed decor and her descent from it.

Voyka bowed in turn, before responding. "Business as usual, Aranea," she began, "as the main generals of this front, it only makes sense for us to meet and agree upon a plan for the time being. The last thing I would want is to not accompany you in battle as a result of resolving issues here on the homefront. For instance, I'm sure you've heard of the Silvermoon Paper and its... Lunaran leanings."

Aranea listened intently as Voyka spoke, her many eyes fixed on the elder general with a keen awareness that extended beyond the words exchanged. “Ah, the Silvermoon Paper.” Aranea replied. “I am aware of its contents and the whispers it seeks to circulate among the people.” As she spoke, Aranea's gaze drifted upwards to one of the many silky cocoons suspended in the vast web above them. Inside, an unconscious figure lay ensnared, their mind an open book to Aranea’s telepathic powers. The spider matriach’s connection to this helpless soul allowed her to siphon valuable information directly from their thoughts. "I'm assuming you seek to address this matter, Voyka? Twist it in our favour in preparation for the upcoming conflict?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Aranea’s face. "I have already set about putting my own plans into motion." she revealed, turning her attention back to the massive web above them. "The fear that grips the people of Althreiell is almost palpable. Word of our presence has spread, and their dread sends ripples through my web, like the faintest breeze tickling my senses. I plan to amplify this fear, to let it burrow deep into their minds, gripping them in both their waking moments and their dreams. It will erode their will, weaken their resolve, and cripple their resistance as a result."

 

[Damian0358]

Aranea listened intently as Voyka spoke, her many eyes fixed on the elder general with a keen awareness that extended beyond the words exchanged. “Ah, the Silvermoon Paper.” Aranea replied. “I am aware of its contents and the whispers it seeks to circulate among the people.” As she spoke, Aranea's gaze drifted upwards to one of the many silky cocoons suspended in the vast web above them. Inside, an unconscious figure lay ensnared, their mind an open book to Aranea’s telepathic powers. The spider matriach’s connection to this helpless soul allowed her to siphon valuable information directly from their thoughts. "I'm assuming you seek to address this matter, Voyka? Twist it in our favour in preparation for the upcoming conflict?"

Voyka's infamous grin appeared on her face as Aranea figured out what she planned to do. "Of course," Voyka exclaimed, "if the paper turned out to have loyalties to Althreiell... convincing them to share their information networks would turn out beneficial for us."

A slow, predatory smile spread across Aranea’s face. "I have already set about putting my own plans into motion." she revealed, turning her attention back to the massive web above them. "The fear that grips the people of Althreiell is almost palpable. Word of our presence has spread, and their dread sends ripples through my web, like the faintest breeze tickling my senses. I plan to amplify this fear, to let it burrow deep into their minds, gripping them in both their waking moments and their dreams. It will erode their will, weaken their resolve, and cripple their resistance as a result."

Voyka laughed in support. "Excellent idea! So as I deal with the paper, you erode the public's spirits, and then we can both strike at once! Their despair will make the slaughter all the more wonderful!"

 

[Abstracty]

"To the bastard and traitor, General Einar Jaddeth" - Black letters read on the envelope delivered to his warcamp in the late afternoon by a courier on horseback. The man quickly bowed as he handed it over to the generals steward, who was swift to deliver it to the general himself. The large, red wax seal was still unbroken when the message was handed over to Einar. "This could be a very serious matter.", the steward duly stated, before retreating to allow for some privacy, unless Einar wished otherwise. Opening the envelope would reveal a letter written entirely with golden ink on fine, expensive paper. A swaft of floral scents was immediately noticeable, as were other, heavier odors, likely reminding him of a certain establishment he had visited not too long ago. The immeculate handwriting had a very different tone compared to what was smeared on the outside, revealing that a joke had been made - and his own words from that night were used against him.

"My dear General Jaddeth,

I hope you enjoyed your surprise thoroughly. It pains me not to have lingered around for longer, but I am sure we will cross paths soon. I am pleased to inform you that many birds have flown south to deliver my words and whispers to our enemies. They will monger fear amongst the Moonworshippers and a priestess of theirs will speak of a dark omen, foretelling of plague and divine disaster. She has no other choice, for I hold her infant son hostage.
My officers have advised me, that we will be ready to conduct a lightning strike into Moondar by autumn and I am very pleased to announce some unlikely reinforcements bolstering my ranks. The so called Knights of Illumination, a devout Solman order of Paladins, have pledged service to my campaign against their southern adversaries. How I wish you could have been there when I stood at the temples stairs and spoke to the people. Alas, we will make good use of them, as they have experience fighting the Calibanians and will serve as a beacon to show that we carry the Imperial Light.
How is your progress regarding the river? It would be a shame to promise a plague and not deliver on one. Please, also send message of any troop movements going forwards, so I may coordinate my men accordingly. I hold the more mobile, yet lighter force.
I will contact General Kypher M. Solari soon to advice him about our impending push south.

Seven sinful blessings,
You know who the fuck I am. Next whore is on you."



Truthful to his word, a message is also delivered to the Lost Prince of Sloth. One could tell the effort in keeping it professional, but clearly Nanissis couldn't help but sprinkle in a bit of sass towards the man he once had dragged before the Emperor in chains.

"To the esteemed General Kypher M. Solari,

I hereby advice you that a chain of movements and actions against Moondar in the South will soon be conducted, as Generals Jaddeth and Yevro will launch their offensive in the autumn. I ask of you to disclose any planned movements and attacks, so we will not find any exposed flanks chaining us down once battle commences. Will you be trying to conquer or choose a diplomatic approach?
It is ironic how close both can lay together at times. It has been far too long since we last talked properly. I could almost gain the impression you are trying to avoid me at times, dear colleague.
I am also having a map of our likely attack and supply routes delivered to you. Perhaps we will celebrate a great victory together soon, if the chain of events favors it.

Forever blessed by Sloth,
General Nanissis Yevro"

 

[Crocodile]

Jannexax - The Whisper of Sin
Turn 01​

---

The Crossroads was an amusing location for Jannexas to find himself in. A name worthy of the tales of mortals, when one could meet a fiend eager to offer a deal for one's soul or other dark price. So simple, missing the truth depth of Sin and darkness that one such as himself sought to foster. Souls were just toys, collectible slivers of essence full of memory and emotion. Many a petty dark power gathered and traded in them, seeking to lure mortals into their possession. Ownership. How... boring.

The Outer Void had taught him much, more so the power of actions and thoughts. Belief. The mortal mind fed into reality. The actions of a single soul could ripple out to many more like seeds planted and waiting to be tended to. So it was the Jannexas savored his dark games, feeding the sins of mortals while seemingly never collecting a visible price despite his tendrils of influence slowly wrapping around all who accepted his offers.

Th Jannexians, his personal host of sworn warriors and soldiers were many who had embraced him and been granted simple but enjoyable rewards. A small parlor trick for those who gave themselves body and soul. They were not a collection to him as much as a tool, a means to fulfill the desires of Emperor Regis and his generals. They would be well set to reinforce or support martial action in the coming seasons. The true matter at hand though was what had drawn the Whisper of Sin from his encampment. His dark carriage rumbling along the roadways, horseless and glowing with infernal light as continued its course towards the feuding knights. Since the ruler of this region had opted to leave them to settle the matter, he had elected to involve himself.

"What joys shall I find waiting for me? What sin shall be fed? Wrath? Pride? Envy?" Jannexas muses as his sinister carriage rumbles closer and closer to the lands of these feuding knights. The excitement building within him for another opportunity to spread his influence. The bigger picture as well meant this could create opportunities that would support the war effort.

---

Action
Pursue Lead: The Duel of the River Knights - Two rival knights, each claiming to be the rightful protector of the river crossing Wardford, have issued a challenge to each other. Aralia seems entirely disinterested in the matter.

 

[Twist]

The interior of the old hunting lodge was dimly lit, with only a few beams of evening light filtering through the cracks in the weathered wood. Dust motes danced lazily in the air as the heavy footfalls of trolls echoed around the spacious structure. They worked clumsily, yet effectively, to reinforce the walls and mend the roof, their large hands wielding tools that seemed almost comically small in their grasp.

Jack Bower stood near a crooked stairwell, leaning against a pile of crates, his eyes narrowed in thought as he watched the trolls go about their tasks. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the worn fabric of his inconspicuous attire, smoothing out the dull and drab coloured garments that were so very much like what he used to wear. The lodge creaked as another plank was hammered into place, but Jack’s mind was elsewhere, focused on the potential lead he had uncovered during his solitary reconnaissance.

Pinterra had not been so welcoming when his army arrived armed and brandishing imperial colours. His time in one of Pinterra's port towns, had given him insight into a growing frustration among its citizens. The town’s walkways were increasingly crowded with beggars, their presence a source of discomfort and disdain for the already struggling province. It wasn’t just their pitiful state, but the sickness they brought with them.

It was in this frustration that Jack saw an opportunity. The whispers he had heard suggested that the people might be more receptive to the presence of imperial banners if those banners were associated with restoring a sense of public decency. It was a simple plan: clear the streets of the beggars, remove the unsightly filth, and make it clear that the Empire was a force for order not just conquest.

Jack’s lips curled into a sly smile. It was a classic move—offering a solution to a problem he had barely noticed before, but one that was clearly eating away at the town’s pride. By addressing it, he could make the imperial presence seem not just tolerable, but desirable. And all it would take was a little coercion and a few well-placed orders to his troops.

"Stupid pigs! Hold it steady!" one of the trolls barked, his voice a deep rumble that snapped Jack out of his thoughts.

He glanced over to see Mogrum chastising another troll, who was struggling to lift a large beam into place. Despite their brutish nature, the trolls he 'inherited' from his predecessor were proving useful in setting up his base of operations. They might lack finesse, but they made up for it in sheer strength and obedience—when properly motivated.

Jack folded his arms across his chest, his mind already working through the details of his plan as he knew far too well, you couldn't play a game without first having a full hand.

Turn Action
Follow Lead: Public Decency Project

 

[Scatterbrain]

Voyka's infamous grin appeared on her face as Aranea figured out what she planned to do. "Of course," Voyka exclaimed, "if the paper turned out to have loyalties to Althreiell... convincing them to share their information networks would turn out beneficial for us."

Voyka laughed in support. "Excellent idea! So as I deal with the paper, you erode the public's spirits, and then we can both strike at once! Their despair will make the slaughter all the more wonderful!"

Aranea's expression shifted subtly, her multifaceted eyes reflecting a more measured approach. “While I share your enthusiasm for our plans, we must tread carefully. If we indiscriminately slaughter everyone, we risk losing invaluable knowledge, like the healing arts of the elves." She gestured toward the massive web above them, her tone softening but retaining a firm edge. “The more minds I can ensnare, the easier it will be for us to learn their secrets. If we can claim the elves knowledge, as well as their lands, we are sure to gain the emperor’s favour.”

 

[Damian0358]

Aranea's expression shifted subtly, her multifaceted eyes reflecting a more measured approach. “While I share your enthusiasm for our plans, we must tread carefully. If we indiscriminately slaughter everyone, we risk losing invaluable knowledge, like the healing arts of the elves." She gestured toward the massive web above them, her tone softening but retaining a firm edge. “The more minds I can ensnare, the easier it will be for us to learn their secrets. If we can claim the elves knowledge, as well as their lands, we are sure to gain the emperor’s favour.”

Voyka's grin shrinks to a smile, in acknowledgement of Aranea's apprehension.

"...yes, given your intentions in this campaign, ensuring the capture of prisoners would enable that," Voyka echoed, "I'll be sure to keep my... tendencies in order, so that our campaign goals are fulfilled. I'll make sure to restrain myself on only the negligible..." she finished, with her grin returning.

"Otherwise, unless you need me any time earlier, next time we meet would be when we notify on progress here in the homefront, as well as discussing plans for the start of the conflict proper... so if you believe there is no need to discuss such plans now, we can call this meeting finished," Voyka bowed in respect.

 

[Scatterbrain]

Voyka's grin shrinks to a smile, in acknowledgement of Aranea's apprehension.

"...yes, given your intentions in this campaign, ensuring the capture of prisoners would enable that," Voyka echoed, "I'll be sure to keep my... tendencies in order, so that our campaign goals are fulfilled. I'll make sure to restrain myself on only the negligible..." she finished, with her grin returning.

"Otherwise, unless you need me any time earlier, next time we meet would be when we notify on progress here in the homefront, as well as discussing plans for the start of the conflict proper... so if you believe there is no need to discuss such plans now, we can call this meeting finished," Voyka bowed in respect.

“Thank you, Voyka,” Aranea replied, especially appreciative of Voyka's discretion in regards to her true objective. “Your restraint will be invaluable in this endeavour.” As Voyka mentioned their next meeting, Aranea inclined her head slightly, in a show of mutual respect. “Agreed. Once the appropriate pieces are in place, we shall reconvene to weave battle strategies.” With that, she returned Voyka’s bow with a nod of her own, signalling the end of their discussion.

 

[turtwigwins]

Act I - Odaden Moves To War

Turn 2 - Year 912 - Late Summer

View attachment Creon912LateSummer.png

Althreiell Campaign
The vast swath of plains of Ostermarka and Fairwych lead into the woodlands of Luminae. Originally kin to the nation of Caliban, Luminae has gotten used to the imperial boot. The pragmatic Countess Alice Ashenbrook has navigated the integration well by pushing just enough for imperial tribute always on time, and respect of local practices. Baba Voyka and Aranea both march into the southern province with separate goals in mind for the lands of Althreiell, but both with keen interests in mind. Both find ways to intercept information or spread fear to weaken the opposition of the enemy. The Althreiell elves, although originally dismissive of the threat, now summon an army to protect the border of Hatia. Meanwhile, the bandit queen of Frostfell sits quiet, the cold frozen trees of the east at a still.

===Allied Forces===

Baba Voyka, The Warsome Grandmother
Try and Take It // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Luminae
Province Fertility: 6/6
Strength: 3
Cards:
Dreamwalker - Upon meeting on Neutral or Allied Ground for diplomacy, Baba may lure an enemy to sleep placing a -3 on them for character v character combat if not using hostile language in interaction before this. (Infinite Uses)
Environmental Expert - Baba and her troops are unaffected by weather cards and terrain related cards. (Infinite Uses)
Motherful Presence - A province will not revolt when Baba is present if it has below 10 disloyalty. (Infinite Uses)
A Turned Informant - Using information gained about Althreiell Baba is better able to plan attacks. Add +1 to attack against any Althreiell province (3 Uses)

Baba continues her stay in Port Silver making note of the Silvermoon paper and the disturbance that occurs in a bar with her men and local Lunarans. Ignoring the soire of Countess Ashenbrook is met with indifference, but fewer social invitations of the port are given to Baba following the decision. Crucial is the man who is being fed information from the vast Althreiell information network who turns to Baba upon threats of himself and family safety turns to feeding information to Baba. Time will only see if this information is in fact true. The public still harbors a resentment against troops that is noticeable, but businesses seem to accept the presence nonetheless.

Leads:
The Harvest Revels - Baba’s men take notice of the harvest festival taking place in town as the farmers begin to harvest. More of an opportunity to just raise spirits in the city a promising man under Baba’s command is set to participate in the competition.
The Hidden Smuggler’s Route - An old smuggler’s tunnel beneath Port Silver has been uncovered by Baba’s men. Securing the entrance would take a great time and possibly lead to treasure, but at the same point leaving it open could lead to a weakness that could be exploited.

Aranea, the Mind Weaver
Everywhere at Once // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Luminae
Province Fertility: 6/6
Strength: 3
Cards:
Psychic Web - For every 3 subordinates (who have been inducted to web) in charge of a province Aranea gains another action to use. (Infinite Uses)
Induction to the Web - Aranea may use an action to induct a subordinate into her neural web. From this she will see and hear any interactions they take, and physically communicate across the realm. (Infinite Uses, this consumes an action for turn)
Telepathy - Every turn Aranea may choose an NPC in a bordering province and has a 1/4 chance to know their action for the turn.
Fearful Visions - May send fearful visions to Luthais Cailamins army resulting in a -2 on battle rolls for Luthais on the turn. (1 Use)

Aranea’s men camp in the wooded lands near the border of Hatia with the river that separates Luminae and Hatia being a strong denotation of where Odaden land begins. As Aranea begins to spread visions the scouting expeditions of Luthais seem more present, but also more skittish upon contact with Araneas forces. Still this doesn’t stop initial conflict from starting out with one of her arachnids being found pinned to a tree and a series of arrows pierced through the beast. The initial reaction to Aranea being in the province has become more muted as the rural villages have adjusted to the presence with an acceptance of only a small change.


Leads:
The Huntsman - From her troops Aranea hears tales of a local huntsmen with renowned prowess. Upon one of the trips for supplies a soldier reports to Aranea the man wishes for her to come and have a meal.
The Hidden Path - A series of hidden trails along the riverbank, known only to the villagers, could be used to outmaneuver or mislead Luthais’s scouts if Aranea cared to learn them.

===The Enemy===

Luthais Cailamin, the Marshal of Feathers
With Guile and Cunning // A Master of the Art // A Reckoning for the Wicked
Location: Hatia
Strength: 3

Luthais grows dreary as the forces remain still along his border. The men marshaled under his command begin to despair before even seeing combat murmuring of a great spider, and of impending death. Using his geographic knowledge he attempts to create a rally to morale finding and killing one of the arachnids of Aranea with his personal company of men-at-arms pinning it to a tree as a message to send back to the mind weaver. He maintains that as long as the river holds there is a way to survive the coming onslaught. Personally writing to the homeland he pleads for more experienced troops to be sent to hold the border.

Freyja Stormveil, the Bandit Queen
Liberate the Materiel // Come What May // Never Surrender
Location: Frostfell
Strength: 2
Cards:
Ice Storm - Upon victory in combat in Winter turns Freyja has a 1/2 chance to inflict 2 tokens damage (Infinite Uses)

Freyja receives the tides of imperial banners in Luminae with indifference. If they want to fight their war with Althreiell she will let them. Why come strike at an opponent when their wealth would flow through the province either way. Besides those who are eager to display their strength would find it worn down. The Bandit queen manages her men normally for now, the dues being paid as those who dare to trek through dreary Frostfell give tribute to her domain. Still the doubt lingers in her mind of this being a show of a greater lurking imperial ambition. As winter approaches so will her window of opportunity.

South-Western Campaign
Upon reaching their agreement of the division of Caliban the armies of Einar and Nanissis travel in tandem to the birthplace of the empire Odaden. The rolling countryside of the land is accompanied by the wooded coast alongside the southern ocean. Prince Kirin, the younger brother of the Emperor seems to rule with only a light touch upon the people. To the west the vast rolling plains of Budagyar are home to a much more nomadic life. While the armies in Odaden may be replenished by the hard work of peasants, the work in the land of the centaurs seems to be hunting for your own. Tides begin to turn against the empire as victories by the Thundering Spear and the Blood Moon’s Blade spur those with already disloyal dispositions into finding hope against the imperial might.


===Allied Forces===

Nanissis Yevro, The Poisonous Tongue
Meals from the Field // The One and Only // Drenched in Death
Location: Odaden
Province Fertility: 7/7
Strength: 3
Cards:
Poisonous Tongue - Nanissis agitates a province leading to a +3 in disloyalty. (Infinite Uses, once per 3 turns)
The Discontents are Rewarded - After taking control of a province which has had the Poisonous Tounge Card used it on previously Nanissis can take a free recruit a subordinate action to govern the province that same turn. (infinite Uses)
Lightning Raids - The first time attacking a general Nanissis can choose to receive a +2 to the attack. (3 Uses)
Knights of Illumination - Upon a battle loss against a general of Caliban do not lose a token ( 1 Use)

Nanissis and his troops make home outside the former capital of Odaden. The food seems to have been well prepared and few have issues in finding mouths to feed. Although the flat countryside is set up for farming the centaurs under his command have found some small enjoyments in interactions with the land. The inner city itself seems one that has had only a minor corruption when compared to the capital. Partaking in an immense amount of indulgence along with his men, the sin of the city makes its mark on the forces. This isn’t without issue however, with the exuberant amount of indulgence in brothels and bars by the forces leading some to question if their coin will soon dry up. Prince Kirin sends a personal messenger to Nanissis messaging that although he is pleased to see the men happy, if the coin of the crown is used to excessive debauchery he will have to inform Regis. Nanissis also notices the Solmans getting their act together to be a more clean religion in a leadup to a surprise arrival of a Velorian delegation bringing the Duchess to Odaden.

Leads: The Velorian Delegation - Word makes its way around that Duchess Isobole Vadalas has arrived in Odaden, and is personally meeting with Prince Kirin. Although not formally invited, making himself visible there could help with future diplomatic moves with their long term neighbors.
Lustful Business - Some of the brothels have become all too familiar with the poisonous tongue. A few of the employees becoming regulars to the man have figured they could use their talents to assist him in his own ventures if he had the coin to convince them.


Einar Jaddeth, The Brutal Bastard
Meals from the Field // The One and Only // Break their Spirits
Location: Odaden
Province Fertility: 7/7
Strength: 2
Cards:
Raze the Traitors - Upon a successful attack Einar may choose to raze one of the fertility of the province, leading to +2 disloyalty in the province attacked (Infinite Uses)
Brutal Vengeance - Upon losing a defensive combat, Einar has a +1 to attack versus that same opponent the next turn. (Infinite Uses)
Make Use of What We Have - Einar's troops can go over the fertility of a province by 2 and not suffer any negative effects. (Infinite Uses)
Poisoned Water - When Used on Moondar general in province receives a -2 for all battle rolls for 1 turn. (1 Use)

Einar’s men make their camp further downward in the province. In this time Einar is reminded of the rural hardship people have to endure. What might be more irritating to him however, is the preferential treatment it seems that Odaden has been receiving. The people who still complain over giving rations to his army seem healthy and full of muscle. Is the Sunfather truly blessing these people, or has Regis become lax on his own brother's taxes? Meeting with an alchemist in the city a poisonous concoction is brewed which Einar believes he can use with the river flows to bring sickness to the enemy bringing a small window of advantage he and his allies can use to strike towards the heart of Moondar. As he goes about his plotting however, Valindra makes the first move. In a night at camp Einar’s forces are taken by surprise as a night raid tears through the camp leading to carnage and death as a blow to his forces is dealt.

Leads:
The Obsidian Chalice - A dark artifact tied to the rise of Regis and his power and one coveted by the Faith of The Seven is said to be drunk out of by Prince Kirin. As his dear friend from Veloria visits however, the chance to steal such a relic might present itself. Of course failure could inflict imperial wrath, but hadn't that been wrought on Einar so many times before.
The Orphan - A little girl is found waddling outside of a farmstead that was burnt to the ground by moon elven raiders. Perhaps she could be used as a pawn to rally public support. Or maybe Einar just wants to help a poor girl calling after her mother.


Kypher M. Solari, The Lazy General
Everywhere At Once // Symphony of War // Break their Spirits
Location: Budagyar
Province Fertility: 4/4
Strength: 2
Cards:
Pattern Recognition - The longer in continual battle with an opponent the better the ability to recognize their weaknesses. For every turn in combat with an opponent, either Kypher attacking them or them attacking you Kypher will receive a stacking +1 advantage the next turn on the next combat. This can only stack up to a +3, and if there is a turn where neither side engages in combat against one another the stack is reset to 0. (Infinite Uses)
Officer's Club - The illustrious general inspires loyalty among his officers and men. Any province that Kypher is in will receive a -1 to disloyalty per turn, note can choose not to have this used. (Infinite Uses)
Ways of the Nomads - Once per season when in a steppe or plains region you may harvest one fertility from a province (3 Uses)

The province of Budagyar tests the strength of Kyphers men. While many of the men wish to emulate their general and his laziness, hard work is put to the test with having to track down the roaming centaur tribes subjugated under Regis for food, or scurrying off to do their own hunts in their land. Although there are a few settlements, these mainly rely on hunting as a method of securing their own food. Kypher taking time to learn the ways of the land gains a better understanding of the way of the nomads, and a better chance of survival if needing to harvest food. The Nalunali tribes under the leadership of Hectemnon conduct battle against Kypher. While focused on learning the ways of the wild the defenense of his company is not ready for the attack and a carnage insues with the strength of his forces weakening as a portion of his troops die drenched in blood. The localsof the area began to distance themselves from Kypher. If one is unable to protect his own tribe, why must they give tribute to him.

Leads:
The White Gazelle - Reports of a mystical gazelle stocking the lands are talked about throughout the local tribes of the area, perhaps this is something that Kypher could find himself?
Thundering Hooves - Although the defeat of his forces was something to greatly dismay the Thundering Spear does not do his attacks without laying his marks. These marks when analyzed thoroughly could perhaps develop Kyphers own cavalry strategy in the lands of the nomads.


===The Enemy===

Valindra Redmoon, the Blood Moons Blade
Liberate the Materiel // A Master of the Art // A Reckoning for the Wicked
Location: Moondar
Strength: 3
Cards:
The Cycle of the Blood Moon - Upon 3 successful victories in battle Lunara blesses Valindra’s forces. If Valindra had lost a token during this time she may heal one token as the wounded come back to fight again. (Infinite Uses)

Valindra was always known for having a brash attitude and hot temperament in her homeland of Moondar. Prone to violent outbursts many thought her as one who would create great disunity. The church of Lunara saw the confidence behind such eyes and so did the Goddess eventually after years of training granting her the blessings of the Blood Moon. Feeding to her violent tendencies she has pushed back attempts towards Caliban from various neighbors in the past. Riding her tamed Direwolf Valindra strikes hard and fast towards enemies who enter her woods. As the imperials bid time Valindra makes the first move striking hard towards Einar who borders her in the lowlands of the country. Catching the forces of Einar unaware in the night raids upon the camps are successful leading to the slaughter of a good amount of Einar’s forces before retreating into the woods gleeful laughter heard in the air as they retreat.


Isobole Vadalas, the Duchess of Diplomacy
To Weather the Storm // A Master of the Art // A Truth Unassailable
Location: Veloria
Strength: 4
Cards:
Time Through Words - Upon a diplomacy action being received or sent and responded to, the one who engaged in the diplomacy with Isobole has a -1 to attack against her for that turn and the following turn. Additionally Isobole cannot be forced into combat at neutral locations. (Infinite Uses)

Isobole has had her country prosper through funding and selling to the imperial war machine. One thing that the Duchess has never allowed to be disputed is her sovereignty. As the imperial banners march on either side the men of Veloria rise ready to defend should the empire decide it has no use for their trade any longer. Isobole still thinks that the relationships built can be something that guarantees her kingdom safety. Long friends with Prince Kirin, she believes that a strike against Veloria is not on the priorities of Regis. She only needs to keep diverting attention, and all empires fall sooner or later. One way of doing such is keeping in touch with her dear friend.


Hectemnon, the Thundering Spear
Liberate the Materiel // Colleagues in Arms // A Reckoning for the Wicked
Location: Nalunali
Strength: 3
Cards:
Hectemnon is a massive centaur known for his thundering approach as he raids and pillages farmsteads and rival tribes alike. Taking great baths and indulging in many a woman, and devouring of many a meat Hectemnon enjoys what he considers simple pleasures in life. However, his brute intelligence still realizes that the rising threat of Odaden may soon try to subjugate his tribe. Forming alliances with those around him in mutual protection against those who have already sworn allegiance to the imperial might Hectemnon offers his own strength as the defiant shield. This might have been spurred on by the three cities who offer coins freely with the recognition of service against Odaden. He makes his first repayment upon their investment in his strike against Kypher. Leading a devastating charge of centaurs he raids the camp unprepared leading to a great death of a many men and abduction of quite a few as slaves to his own domain. The tribes under his command toast to his victory, feasting to their triumph against the imperial interloper.


North-Western Campaign
To the northern part of the realm a set of threats engulf the boldest of the empire Richard who rests in Kaslia with greenskin and goblin raiders knocking on the doorstep and the distrusting Padorian fleet ready to blockade at a moments notice he may soon have to rely on those around him. In a keen position to provide support is Jannaxes who sits upon the province of the crossroads, a prosperous land for the tolls that its rivers extract and in between the trade cities of Kaslia, Pinterra, and Padoria as well as northern realms when they want to come towards the heartland of Osyne. It is also a keen position to bring support to the generals around him, something the Whisper of Sin is all too familiar with. To the south sits Oneiruth the princeling returned home. Discontent from those who favored his brother still lingers, as well as those whose powers have diminished with his pact. Jack Bower to the North has found perhaps the most promising position in Pinterra, the weakened Mudkadi open for the taking and a people of Aberhald who Jack thinks he can make an interesting gamble to.


===Allied Forces===

Onieruth, The Usurper of Argalis
Try and Take It // The One and Only // Drenched in Death
Location: Argalis
Province Fertility: 3/5
Strength: 3
Cards:
Accursed Pact - Leads will occur with patron, following these could grant boons, and ignoring them lead to punishments.
Magic Devourer - Magical cards are ineffective against Onieruth, either lowering in power or completely failing at GM discretion.

The land of Argalis slowly turns quiet as the tyrannical rule of their Prince has taken hold. The magic that once ruled the land proudly now withers to the power of their prince who makes this land his home with his otherworldly patron. The same can be said with the population who work tirelessly to build the fields of the land to the flourishing wheat it was before the civil conflict. There are still those in the populace few that whisper of vengeance for his brother Janus upon the usurper, and rumors of meetings of those who plan to take vengeance upon the usurper prince. The ancient ruins of past old gods and their temples seem to be a keen part of this scheming against the prince. Seeing the weakened state of the land the goblin tribes of Gurlap raid the land pillaging before fleeing back to their homes.


Richard, The Lionheart
Try and Take It // Symphony of War // Chessmaster
Location: Kaslia
Province Fertility: 5/5
Strength: 3
Cards:
Resilient Lion - When losing to an enemy with more army tokens Richard has a 1/3 chance of not losing an army token. (Infinite Uses)
Golden Boy of the Empire - Richard can attack an internal imperial provinces leader in combat, and if winning assume the province under his control. The empire will not intervene, viewing it as an internal dispute. (2 Uses)
Stand Proud Men - Richard's and the men he commands are immune to Fear Effect Cards

Kaslia welcomes the protection offered by the Lionheart as they are beset by enemies on all sides. While supplies and trade flow steadily throughout the country now with only the occasional missing ship bringing a reminder of their pirate neighbors to the west in Padoria. Lord Wilmar Rudolf is grateful for the protection offered and allows a great amount of housing in the inner port city to the troops of Richard. From the outer lands of the province, however, persistent pleas are heard by the army for protection from the grinning wolves. Also seen in his patrols to the frontiers are a small population of half-orcs that seem prevalent in the outer lands of the land, with a seeming resentment for both their neighbors and the Grinning Wolves who led to many of their creations. Richard noticies the coming of the Grinning Wolves in enacts a defensive masterstroke with allowing the enemy to come in just far enough to be comfortable before his flanking forces surround the host causing panic among the Worgs and their riders and forcing them to have to drive back in retreat. The chaos allows him to pick off a good portion of their number.

Leads:
Brave Boys - A small group of street urchins approach Richard while in the city. They want to fight just as he did against the big bad orcs. Prehaps they could be used for that, but with their smaller frames they could also be great informants.
The Shadows - An underground fighting ring has slowly gained in popularity among the province's outcasts and renegades. Among the participants one Half-Orc has begun making quite the name for himself who begins each fight with calling for death to the Grinning Wolves.



Jannaxes, Whisperer of Sin
Everywhere at Once // Nothing is Safe // Chessmaster
Location: The Crossroads
Province Fertility: 8/8
Strength: 3
Cards:
Corruption - Jannaxes offers favors with little ask in return, but once accepting the taint slowly spreads. Accepting a favor adds corruption to the character. A d20 is rolled each turn seeing if this corruption spreads to the province the character is in. If the number is equal to or lower to the corruption score, the province gains corruption. Latent Power is gained each turn in accordance to province corruptions.
Lessor Favor - Costing 5 latent power. Gives minor boon as agreed with GM. Adds 1 corruption to character.
Medium Favor - Costing 10 latent power. Gives minor boon as agreed with GM. Adds 2 corruption to character.
Greater Favor - Costing 15 latent power. Gives minor boon as agreed with GM. Adds 3 corruption to character.
My Dear Puppet - For every corruption gained by a character Jannaxes gains a 3% chance of being able to use their action. Jannaxes may choose to use this every turn if he is within 2 provinces of the corrupted character. Note the action must always be something the person can see as to their interest.
Characters Corrupted - Regis (9), Kirin (1), Arlane Rivers (1)
Provinces Corruption - Odaden (2), Osyne (6)
Accumulated Latent Power - 13

The crossroads are the crossing for much trade and travel along the empire. The Lady of this land Countess Aralia Crosswood makes efficient use of this with various castle crossings set up along the river paths offering both protection for travelers and coins for her pockets. Additionally these rivers offer quite an amount of arable farmland while the savannah like plains surrounding offer a variety of meats for the coming travelers. The location could not be more ideal for a resting army with trade from the western trade cities coming through along with the northern realms of Lovona and Aberhald and flowing to the heart of the empire in Osyne. Jannaxes mens are efficiently camped along the crossings and are well fed, but it does not seem to create a great stir among the people. What it does offer is a great staging ground as the taverns that rest along these lines lead to rumors aflowing a plenty. Following the events of the Duel of the River nights he gains a new companion under his command, one whose interesting heritage brings her a deep connection to the rivers. Though the Aubert’s claim foul play the Countess seems to have it fall upon deaf ears.

Leads:
Brackendale Horse Merchant - Brackendale is a province known for its horses, however that can’t always prevent one of their breeders from being robbed. Perhaps getting back this mans valuables from the bandits could lead to some of his finest stock into Jannaxes forces.
Tavern Rumors - The Crossroads are home to many travelers who have loose lips after a few too many drinks. Although mostly gossip the occasional truth may be something Jannaxes could exploit.

Subordinates

Arlane Rivers, Beloved of The Rivers
Meals from the Field // Symphony of War // Chessmaster
Location: The Crossroads
Strength: 0
Cards:
Friend of The River Spirits - When defending a province with Rivers, or attacking into a province with Rivers Arlane gains a +1 to combat rolls. (Infinite Uses)
Corruption: 1


Jack Bower, The Cheat
Try and Take It // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Argalis
Province Fertility: 3/3
Strength: 3
Economic Power: 1
Cards:
The Deck is in my Favor - Jack may redefine his 3 battle leadership strategies (Infinite, once per 4 turns)
All-In Gambit - Jack may choose to make a gamble in which the total amount of army tokens in his army will be either inflicted on the enemy or lost on his own army up to the enemy's strength. (1 Use)
Slip Away - Assuming Jack does not die in character combat if Jack's entire army dies and Jack has a subordinate he may return to their province alive. (2 Uses)
An Ordered Market - The merchants of Pinterra value Jack and his companies presence in Pinterra and will pay for his services. For every 3 consecutive turns that Jack spends in Pinterra with at least 1 army strength under his command he will gain 1 Economic Power. (Infinite Uses)

Jack spins ingineuty in using his forces to kick the beggars out of the city of Pinterra proper. The merchants grateful for the services begin reopening stores that had once been closed, and the general tone towards imperial presence is one of appreciation. A consortium of merchants even gives Jack coin in exchange for the service, and chart an agreement for additional payment if the imperial forces continue their moves to an ordered and cleanly city. The sickness that was common among the streets now spread out to the outerlands of the country. Although originally some find homes among the farmsteads of the outland now Jack receives calls of their sickness being a plight that will spread to the land. The goblins of Mudkadi seem to not notice the presence of Jack’s troops while Aberhald still stands vigilant with patrols as a show of strength.

Leads:
The Echoes of the Past - An old ruined tower outside Pinterra has been the source of strange noises and sightings.
Move Along Now - Although the moving of these beggars was a first step in a clean city, the outskirts of the land must now receive the same treatment, prehaps their sickness may be able to spread to a more welcoming land if they are forced by the evil trolls out of their home.


===The Enemy===

Nicholas Manolov, Heart of Aberhald
To Weather the Storm // Colleagues in Arms // A Truth Unassailable
Location: Aberhald
Strength: 3
Cards:
Family is Our Bond - If Nicholas should fall one of his six sons will replace him with equal battlefield leadership capabilities (6 Uses)

Nicholas Manolov looks towards Odaden, wary of their imperial ambition. The plains of Aberhald are tended to with a rigor of befitting the eyes of Farin, god of family. Unusual to their fields however is the stomping patrols of soldiers as Nicholas has enlisted many of the working men to serve against the Odaden threat. As Jack sits in Pinterra Nicholas waits for the halfman to make his first move towards his home. It is only a hope that the conflict is over soon and that Odaden can forget their ambitions for his lands. The kingdoms of the north are an option he doesn’t want to consider as well, and the powerful King Lovona is almost an equal worry to his land.

Ulx Wheatmaker, The Agrarian
With Guile and Cunning // A Master of the Art // A Truth Unassailable
Location: Mudkadi
Strength: 2
Cards:

Although not one to be afraid of war, after the defeat by Jorvan Lovona in years past Ulx slowly began developing Mudkadi into a more agrarian state. With little worth in the land of Mudkadi the neighboring nations have begun to begin more amicable diplomacy with that of the civilized goblin Ulx. Ulx does not have too much concern for the army in Pinterra thinking they must be directed elsewhere, but those of the old guard have formed militias to defend that of their land.

Kakorm Bittersteel, The Persistent Plunderer
Everywhere at Once // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Gurlap
Strength: 3
Cards:

Kakorm is not known as the most feared of goblinkind, but his keen mind for raiding has made many flock to his banner. With little in professional weaponry and units made of makeshift armories from that which they have stolen. The goblins find ways of skirmishing in favorable terrain to be of their biggest advantage. Quick hit and run accidents are prevalent for those who dare travel into the province and those of the surrounding provinces. Kakorm thinks the armies upon his doorstep are unideal for certain, but his leadership must continue through consistent raids whether there is resistance or not. The way of life of a goblin does not change.

Nograk, The Bone Flayer
Meals from the Field // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Wolven
Strength: 3
Cards:
Break in Fear - When attacking against Nograk armies have a 1/3 chance to lose a token out of fear, deserting before the battle begins.

Nograk and his warband make the lower grasslands a home of their debauchery. Although a land that could be quite farmable itself the orks of the grinning wolves know one thing, tormenting. Taking sadistic pleasure they consistently raid, pillage, assault, and force themselves upon those who surround them. Riding massive wolves and making messages of wherever they go incites fear to all who stand against them. The wolves attempted to do such a descent upon the lionhearts forces in Kalsia, but were repelled back by the tactical mind of Richard. Allowing encoruachment further in the defensive positions collapsed upon the force and the worgs instead of leaping forward into carnage instead had to break out back to freedom. Nograk accustomed to defeat, much less retreat tries to calm himself with the flaying of a slave taken from a past raid of Kaslia.

Chilfroy Pontier, The Warden of the Frontier
To Weather the Storm // Colleagues in Arms // Never Surrender
Location: Chivar
Strength: 3
Cards:

The frontier of Chivar is a province not unbearable with rolling plains and freshwater that leads to easy farming. The issue lies with those who seek to take from what they have made in the land. Chilfroy has led to at least some stability in the land forming the Templars of the Frontier who hold back the raiders and nomads who try to pillage and enslave from the working folk of the land. He is encouraged by the word his subordinates work out in having an agreement to assist one another against the great threat to them both that is the Grinning Wolves. Eagerly awaiting word from Richard he is greatly heartened when he hears the forces of the Lionheart fended off an attack of the Bone Flayer slaying a good portion of the raiding forces before they retreated back to Wolven.

Lucile Morren, The Golden Hair Admiral
With Guile and Cunning // Colleagues in Arms // A Truth Unassailable
Location: Padoria
Strength: 3
Cards:
Blockade Their Ports - Lucile can choose to blockade the ports of a tile that has a water connection to her province. This results in a draining of 1 fertility to her command per turn from the province.

Lucile Morren has grown a wide reputation for her exploits both as a trader and pirate. Her golden hair many have claimed is a sign from the gods of the wealth that she was bound to obtain in her life. Lucile is a cunning figure managing both politics of the royal family of Padoria as well as the loyalties of her ship captains. Lucile views carefully the broader picture of the imperial ambition, and worries that should Richard try and fail there will be another general sent to fill his place. Her worry turns to question as she hears of the agreement with the Templars of the Frontier and wonders if there is more to the man then just a tyrant. Enough doubt that she turns her attention back to her seafaring ways, and lessens her watch upon the province of Kaslia.

Agbal Damu, Triumvir of the North
To Weather the Storm // Come What May // Never Surrender
Location: Kizka
Strength: 4
Cards:

Agbal looks upon the imperial fronts with a contentedness. The threat of imperial might has allowed them to stop worrying about one front as the Nalunali present a deterrent. Instead his focus is turned to the goblin and orc tribes specifically with a fear of the grinning wolves. His fields are at a great harvesting time and the fertile crescent of the north can hopefully fend off any would be invaders from their homelands. The forts built across the land lead to a great defense against these raiders, but the keen eyes of the Kizka people need to spot the raiders to make it to these establishments.

Pescon Campaign
Munsie and Ahkmenohtep start with a distaste towards each other in their mouths as they both contest over the favor of the province of Pescon. Instead they now both are deep in the swamplands of Tobyou. Luckily for the armies is that Ahkmenotheps is of the dead as the murky waters and lands of Tobyou can only support so many with the food that is available. While it seems neither of the two want to march into the forests of Antinia, Pescon seems to have noticed this as well.

===Allied Forces===

Ahkmenohtep, The Exiled Lich
Meals from the Field // The One and Only // Chessmaster
Location: Tobyou
Province Fertility: 4/4
Strength: 3
Cards:
Army of the Dead - Ahkmenohtep upon defeating an enemy force and occupying their province, or losing a living unit may raise an army token of the dead. Note: Using this card will consume the turn action of Ahkmenohtep. Undead tokens use only .25 ferility of land per turn. (Infinite Uses)
Voices to the Dead - Ahkmenohtep is able to talk to the dead assuming their soul is still in existence. He may ask 3 questions which the soul is compelled to answer truthfully. After this has been used on a soul it may not be used again. (Infinite Uses - Once Per 3 Turns)
Your Soul is Mine - If this card is in play and Ahkmenohtep wins a battle, he will possess the enemy commander's soul, instantly defeating their army. (2 Uses)
Last Croak Assassins - Upon an attack you may choose to use this card. If successful you enact an additional 1 token of damage. If the attack fails this card is lost . (Unlimited Uses)


The people of Tobyou are what is called Toadu or the Toad-People and are quite a superstitious bunch of individuals. Thus when a horde of Undead skeletons came into land the response was to shut doors and hide into their own swamplands. Ahkmenohtep sees painted marks of warding across many homes of the land who fear his march. Ultimately it lets him make moves in the land uncontested. The toadu cultist who approaches Ahkmenohtep peaks his interests and the lich is soon praised to be an avatar. The cult of assassins who wish to spread death unto the world with the last croak being the greatest mercy to the people of the land joins his command. His recruitment of these mysterious individual spurs his curiosity and by learning more from the Toadu he hears of the Swamp Hag making bargains with those who seek her power.

Leads:
The Whispering Willows - A grove of ancient willow trees in the swamps is said to whisper secrets to those who listen carefully.
The Swamp Hag - Tales tell of a swamp hag who makes home in Tobyou. The woman is known for making potions to aid in the many wants of man, but always at a cost. Is Ahkmenotep willing to pay?


Munsie Moldive, The Beast Tamer
Everywhere at Once // Nothing is Safe // Break their Spirits
Location: Tobyou
Province Fertility: 4/4
Strength: 3
Cards:
On the Hunt - For every victory against a general/subordinate Munsie gains a permanent +1 to future attacks against them, max of +2 (Infinite Uses)
Beast Tamer - More beast related cards for exotic and dangerous beasts are available to Munsie with positive effects.
Trackers Eye - Munsie can target and find key dissidents leading to -2 disloyalty (Infinite Uses, Once per 3 turns)
The Lesser of Evils - The religious faction of Pescon, desperate to not be under undead rule has proposed to fall under Munsies banner. If Munsie attacks and wins against Pescon and there is still a token left in Pescon it will switch allegiance and the province control over to Munsie. (1 Use)

The Toadu welcome the army of Munsie much more openly then their undead counterparts. Taverns honed into massive trees of the swamp show a greater ingenuity of using the land to their own advantage. Additionally there seems to be a whole profession of swamp boaters who lead those of the groups around the swamp via their small wooden boats. Approached by a faction of the Pescon assembly representing the religious interests of the country, Munsie is offered a deal. Upon defeat of the first army of the democracy those remaining will flip to her banner preventing the undead from leading their city. Although they’ll lose their freedom at least their souls will be saved. The question is whether she can make the move before the Lich throws away the advantage that could be gained.

Leads:
The Ghostly Green Mist - A mysterious green mist has begun to spread through the swamps at night, bringing strange dreams and visions to those who breathe it in.
Murmurs of the Deep - Dark shapes have been seen moving beneath the swamp waters at night, and Toadu fishermen have started to disappear.

===The Enemy===

Perwin, The Peacemaker
To Weather the Storm // Colleagues in Arms // Never Surrender
Location: Pescon
Strength: 2
Cards:
Pescon the peacemaker was chosen for his ability to lead and communicate across a disunified democracy. With the common voice being that which makes every decision he has found it hard to summon a great army to defend his home even as the militant factions of the democracy note the reports of the great host upon their doorstep. With little military knowledge, the army is held up by individuals of great strength who have moved to Pescon with the dream of a democratic vision. Perwin manages to make headway with the assembly with agreement to spend funds on mercenaries as greater reports come in about the host upon their doorstep. Managing a contract with a band of adventurers that are returning from exploits in Antinia his forces will be reinforced if he can hold until Fall.

 

[CaptainSully]

Ahkmenohtep
The addition of Toadu Assassins to his forces was certainly a welcome one, they showed great flexibility and agility allowing them to perform in ways that the majority of his skeletons could only hope for. Besides, if they ever fell they could always join the ranks of undead.

Ahkmenohtep had picked up a new lead from his new allies, talk of a small tree grove that whispered to those who would listen. It could be nothing but in the world they loved rumours and myth often came from something. He pondered methodically, he wanted to make a move on Pescon and to give them the warning that they needed to bend the knee or suffer the consequences...yet The Whispering Willows as they were known were too tempting an opportunity to ignore.

With his undead horde at his back, honour guard to his side and Toadu Assassins jumping from tree to tree, Ahkmenohtep led the host to the grove that promised so much.


Follow Lead: The Whispering Willows - A grove of ancient willow trees in the swamps is said to whisper secrets to those who listen carefully.

 

[K0mori]

"So, this is the plan, then?" Munsie's first officer, Gannis Goffrey asked as he looked over the finalized attack orders on the table in front of him.

Munsie nodded. "The lich is busying himself with other affairs, if our trackers are to be believed. With our deal in place with the locals, Pescon will collapse like a house of cards if we catch Perwin off guard. I think we've done a good enough job of gauging his abilities; his position is weak and unstable, and his soldiers have less discipline than some of the peasant mobs we've faced. I think we can take him."

Gannis nods. "I agree. The real trouble is going to be the aftermath."

"Let me worry about that," Munsie replies flatly. "By the time I'm done with them, they will love the Emperor as I do."

 

[Scatterbrain]

Aranea could sense the tension rippling through the air, an ever-growing anticipation that had begun to settle across the borderlands. The elves of Althreiell, once dismissive of the threat, had now rallied under Luthais’ command, summoning their forces to protect Hatia. Yet, despite their preparations, Aranea could feel their fear, subtle, but present. The webs she had spun, both figurative and literal, were beginning to tighten around their minds.

Luthais' actions weighed on her thoughts. The audacity of the elf general to pin one of her arachnids to a tree, as though that would send a message to her. In a way, it had. It told her that their fear was working. They were growing desperate, acting out of emotion rather than strategy, but the loss of one of her kindred was a slight she would not forget. She would ensure that Luthais and his men came to understand the true depth of their mistake.

Aranea had decided it was time to meet with Voyka to discuss the timing of their assault. Moving quietly through the dense woods of Luminae, she made her way to her fellow general's camp.

Damian0358

 

[Twist]

The hunting lodge was a testament to Jack Bower’s newfound influence in Pinterra. Nestled on the outskirts of the city, the lodge was a blend of rustic charm and understated luxury, its walls lined with mounted trophies from the surrounding wilderness. The air was thick with the scent of oak and tobacco, mingling with the rich aroma of aged whiskey that filled the crystal glasses clinking around the poker table. Jack, dressed in a formal mix of green and yellow, sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the shopkeepers around him.

When he had answered the door, his trolls sent away for the night, Jack could feel their initial stiffness, each one greeting him with polite deference, betraying their awareness of his rank and their voices tempered with respect as they thanked him for the invitation. They were all here tonight to share in the spoils of the Public Decency Project, their wallets a little heavier thanks to the absence of beggars in the city center.

"Much obliged for your hospitality, General Bower," said Jum, the tailor as spindly as one of his needles. His voice carried a hint of nervousness as he took his seat. "You've done a fine job with removing the beggars. The streets are much safer thanks to you."

Jack offered a modest nod, his expression warm but restrained. "Just doing what was necessary, mate" he replied, his tone humble. "Delighted to hear it’s made a difference."

As the cards were dealt and the game began, the atmosphere gradually shifted. At first, the shopkeepers played with a measure of caution, their eyes often flicking to Jack as if gauging his reactions. Jack, however, made no attempt to dominate the conversation or the game. He lost a few rounds, each defeat punctuated by a self-deprecating chuckle and a sip of whiskey. The small change he wagered meant little to him, but the goodwill it bought was priceless.

With each passing hand, the shopkeepers began to relax. The tension that had marked their early interactions eased, replaced by the comfortable camaraderie of familiar company. The more Jack allowed himself to fade into the background, the more the shopkeepers seemed to forget his presence as a commanding general, seeing him instead as just another player at the table.

Morla, a fisherman's wife and a woman as tough as the nets she mended, who had been somewhat reserved at the start, laughed lightly as she won a hand, her earlier formality slipping away. “Looks like Lady Luck’s on my side tonight,” she quipped, gathering up her winnings.

Harvin, the local tanner, whose leathery skin and quick temper often mirrored his craft, who had been eyeing Jack with cautious respect earlier, now leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed. “You’ve got a good eye for the cards, Morla,” he said with a grin. “But let’s see if that luck holds out.”

As the shopkeepers bantered and laughed, Jack continued to play, his presence almost invisible. He contributed little to the conversation, offering only brief, measured responses when spoken to. His demeanour remained humble, his gaze attentive but unassuming.

It was during this lull that the conversation drifted back to the subject of the beggars. Garin,a burly butcher with thick arms and a booming laugh, emboldened by the drink and the easy atmosphere, spoke up first. “The city’s looking better, no doubt about it. But those beggars still linger on the outskirts, don’t they? Pity we couldn’t push them out altogether.”

Morla nodded, her tone more relaxed than before. “Aye, they’re still a blight on the edge of town. Though it’s quieter now, I’ll give you that. But something needs to be done. They’ll only come back if we don’t deal with them properly.”

Jack’s ears pricked at the suggestion, though he kept his expression mild, as if considering it only in passing. As the night wore on, the game came to a close. The shopkeepers, now thoroughly relaxed and at ease, bid Jack goodnight with far less formality than they had shown upon their arrival. They thanked him again for his hospitality, but it was clear that they saw him now as an ally, perhaps even a friend, rather than just a distant authority figure.

Jack allowed himself a brief smile, satisfied with how the evening had played out. The shopkeepers, no longer seeing him as a threat, had unwittingly given him exactly what he needed. For now, though, Jack would keep his plans to himself. There was no need to rush. The game was still in its early stages, and Jack had every intention of winning.

Turn Action
Follow Lead: Move Along Now - Although the moving of these beggars was a first step in a clean city, the outskirts of the land must now receive the same treatment, perhaps their sickness may be able to spread to a more welcoming land if they are forced by the evil trolls out of their home.

 

[dikdik]

The linens tucked around the corners of the bed pressed against the tent’s edge were made grainy and rough with sand and tiny pebbles Einar’s feet picked up on the morning’s walk at the edge of the river. The valley’s fog had dissipated earlier than expected, the day heating quickly. He had taken his boots off in the sand, the coolness of it seeping its way through him. He returned to his tent barefoot, not wanting the sediment in his shoes to rub his skin raw on the walk back. Now, he writhed about, wishing for rest that would never come after a sleepless night, his pants legs still damp from the walk. That wouldn’t matter. By the end of the day, someone would change the linens and wash his clothes.

The day was to be mundane and boring: checking up on the smiths, strategizing with his commanders, among other tasks. Einar had just gotten back to his quarters and sat to eat a dinner of roast bird and whatever bread had been levied from the nearest town, a glass of wine to his lips as a steward asked permission to enter the tent. With a roll of his eyes, Einar slumped back into the chair, sipping at the wine for a few moments before permitting the man to enter.

“This could be a very serious matter.” The steward’s tone had the hesitation and crack of anxiety as he passed over an envelope addressed in blocky, black letters “To the bastard and traitor, General Einar Jaddeth,” a bright red seal with an unintelligible symbol stamped into it holding it closed. Einar felt just a hint of panic, though he’d never have let the now exiting steward notice. Once he was gone, however, Einar furiously pried the seal open with the knife he’d yet to use for his dinner, fanciful paper, an air of flowers and-

“That fucking prick.” Faint purple powder just glittered itself about a page written entirely in gold. Einar breathed out in just a hint of anger replaced by the curl of a slight smile. He’d been waiting on a letter from Nanissis, though this wasn’t how he’d expected it to arrive. “Seven sinful blessings, eh.” He supposed he owed the elf for their last meeting, though this wasn’t how he’d expected Nanissis to demand something from him. Though the joke was perhaps a bit too on-the-nose for Einar’s taste, it was appreciated that Nanissis outlined his own plans and successes by way of a messenger and Einar intended to do the same. He slurped down the rest of the glass with a bite of bread, his stomach gnawing at him as he delayed eating for a bit of letter writing. It could wait. Best to get a raven out it was completely dark. A quill and paper rested in a drawer beside the head of the bed and he snatched it, intending to write a quick response.

“You fucking prick Esteemed and Righteous General Yevro”

That’ll get him. Man sure as hells is not righteous.

“Glad to hear of your successes, including the one where you frightened the piss right out of me, except the one where you’ve stolen a child. Have patience, I’ve met an alchemist who has provided access to a poison for the river, with no detriment to our own troops as we are up the current from its intended target. I am able to send soldiers to the river’s edge tomorrow morning to-”

A faint, solitary scream found its way into Einar’s ears. A sort of scream he was painfully familiar with. Horror. Death. Followed by a quick, wavering blow of an alarm horn. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end, cold, and his heart thunked behind its ribbed prison as he abruptly stood, whistled with all the breath in his lungs for Hedinn, slid his boots back on, a knife tucked just inside the left one, and grabbed Breath of Eden, swinging its scabbard over his shoulder as he paced outside, though not before blowing out the few candles inside of his tent.

Screaming in all its shrillness grew in volume and seemed closer now than a moment before, a sudden clatter electrified the sprawling camp as commanders and captains shouted orders to their subordinates before one of them, Commander Orm, hurried straight for him, foregoing a salute, “Jaddeth, sir. Moon elves rushing from the forest, razed the village first, they’re breaking a thin line holding our South. Expect massive losses. We’re not ready.”

Fury and adrenaline gripped Einar by the throat as Hedinn appeared behind him. The horse had no saddle. None was needed. “Orm, whoever was on guard, behead them when this is through.” Einar turned to the stallion, greatsword still dangling loose on his shoulder, “Oh, and don’t die. I’ll need you when we burn Caliban to fucking ashes.”

One hand on Hedinn’s hip, one just past Hedinn’s withers, Einar hopped, pressing himself higher before swinging a leg over the horse and shuffling to even out where he was sitting. Einar gripped Hedinn’s back between his thighs and knees as he wrenched the sword from its scabbard before flinging it as close to his tent as he could. Wouldn’t be needing a scabbard. It would just get in the way. Einar gave a nudge with his heels to get the horse moving towards the chaos now edging into the camp, following opposite the direction a flood of stewards and other non-combatants were fleeing. The pungent smell of blood wetting the cooling earth, the sharpness of a breath full of smoke curling from burning flesh, wood, and canvas- they swelled and grew to an overwhelming mass as Hedinn cantered into the fray, not even a subtle twinge of anxiety or panic in the horse’s body. Einar squeezed his knees in, drawing the horse to a stop at the top of a slight hill overlooking the other half of his camp, half on fire, the other half clanging with steel on steel and steel searing through flesh, screams, shouts wafting into the air as the smoke billowing from a burning village just beyond the reaches of the camp. Red hot heat licked at Einar’s face, hands, lungs as he took in his failure. A handful of his officers caught up with him, in their mail and on their mounts. One was Orm. Thank fuck. He was quite dependable in these sorts of predicaments.

Einar shared a glance with them, at them, before his eyes found his own body, free of the restrictions that came with armor, and distinctly lacking its protection. Two hands gripping Breath of Eden, Einar nodded curtly at the others, kicking Hedinn’s sides and leaning into the small charge, choosing to target a cluster of elves swarming around one of the stash houses in the lower quarter, the others following about a horse’s stride behind, a tight line. Muscles rippled through the animal’s body, his forceful breath fueling a full-throttle gallop as he stamped down the incline, lapping flames reflecting in his widened eyes, wisps of his mane tickling Einar’s face as he leaned just slightly to the side, bracing and tightening as Hedinn’s mass pummeled through a group of a few elves, Breath of Eden ripping through blurred fleshy forms that weren’t crushed by the horse. The sword’s impact against leather and bone nearly tore it from Einar’s hands, but he held on, wrists, elbows, shoulders jolting with the force from the collision, tearing it out from a panicked elf, entrails to follow. Four.

Einar slid from Hedinn’s back and the horse mouthed his hair and nudged him, feet lifting and stamping, lifting and stamping in place. Einar firmly pat Hedinn on the shoulder before scratching his muzzle, Breath of Eden’s tip resting in hot, wet soil for just long enough to add its own gore to that leaking from the corpses at his feet. The officers having dismounted and formed up into a small, defensive line, Hedinn cantered away from the chaos, the greatsword back into Einar’s grip as he motioned for the line to begin its support of those trapped and fighting at the hill’s base. Not one single fucking elf would make it up to the protected hilltop if Einar had anything to do with it.

In the raucous, unorganized fighting, the elves moved about swiftly, silently, curling a group of them around the officers’ line, not before Orm took a dagger to the thigh. It didn’t slash through his mail, the assailant dispatched with haste. A close-range arrow caught another officer, piercing his trachea, a garbling and thrashing moment later, the mud had claimed him. To the left, the elf that loosed the arrow was impaled through the abdomen with an ally’s spear, who had separated slightly from the group. The spear was wrenched from the body and repeatedly thrust through it until no movement could be recognized. The captain was soon overwhelmed by three elves armed with short swords, slashing furiously, ravenous, chopping him to pieces through the hair-raising screeches, spear flailing wildly in the air before clattering on the ground. Two had dropped so quickly.

In only a few long strides, Einar was positioned behind the hacking elves, Eden raising over his head before his body crunched forward, building momentum behind a strike that would free a skull from its host, brains leaking out and blood spurting, body convulsing. Five. The two others whipped around, a semblance of surprise strewn over their faces. One lunged, Einar deflected with the wide side of the sword. The other swung, Einar ducked, ripping the sword through its legs. The elf stumbled, a scream muted by Orm’s sword swinging through its face, tearing free from the bone, grating. Six. As Einar stood, rearing Eden back, an elf appeared behind them, searing hot blood spewing from a slash that landed in the meat of his lower back. Left foot forward, Eden over his right shoulder, Einar swung it down and left, lobbing off a hand in a strike that nearly missed as viscous liquid trickled down his left side. Enraged and bleeding, Einar smashed the handless elf in the face with the pommel of Eden, Orm quickly killing the one that had landed its strike.

“Fuck!” Einar yelled, Eden’s tip in the dirt, left hand finding the slash through his shirt and coming away a bright red. His eyes met Orm’s, who seemed a bit distressed, unusual. Einar scanned the space around them. No more elves to be seen. Hands shaking through the adrenaline, feeling particularly fucking stupid for all of this horse shit, Einar heard what sounded of cackling laughter on the wind as he noticed elves scampering away. One of the elves on the ground in front of him, the one with a now-shattered orbital from the pommel to the face, joined in the clamor, a vile smile curling over its lips for but a moment before Einar’s boot smashed into its mouth, knocking out teeth and dislocating the jaw. A burning deep red blurred his vision, Eden clanging off rocks and soil. Einar bloodied hands found the elf’s throat. Straddling the elf’s torso, smashing its head into the ground, fingers crushing through cartilage and flesh, screaming until his throat was raw up to the moment Orm was peeling him off the corpse.

The rest of the night was dim, obscured. Hedinn carried him up the hill. Wounds were bandaged. Eden scoured. Linens changed. Sleep, elusive until the dawn. The dawn. No ritual on this morning. Not until the scope of damages was assessed. Einar writhed about, much like the day before, until a steward, bruised and frightened, delivered a plate of eggs and salted pork, a cup of water. Einar sat upright, inhaling abruptly at a pulling and burning in his back where a bandage was collecting blood still slowly pooling. The gash would likely bleed for a few days. Though it had missed any muscle or bone, it was still deep into his flesh. Orm briefed him on their losses as he scarfed breakfast, bile in his famished stomach disagreeing with being sopped up by anything but sleep. His hands, stained with red and bruised, found the letter he’d yet to finish writing.

“Glad to hear of your successes, including the one where you frightened the piss right out of me, except the one where you’ve stolen a child. Have patience, I’ve met an alchemist who has provided access to a poison for the river, with no detriment to our own troops as we are up the current from its intended target. I am able to send soldiers to the river’s edge tomorrow morning to-”

“Huh.” Einar released a thin laugh before he continued, bloodied hands soiling the paper. It was already the morning.

“I am able to send soldiers to the river’s edge tomorrow morning to We were attacked in the dead of the night by that fucking Redmoon bitch. Heavy losses and damages to camp. Don’t worry! Much to your ado, I made it out with just a bit of a flesh wound. I’ll be poisoning the river today. I’ll be bringing the wrath of all seven fucking sinful blessings to her doorstep in one week’s time, I’ll need to stop bleeding everywhere first. Not before we meet in the hills the day after tomorrow. Village of Kerth. Meet me outside the gates. I’ll buy you an ale. Soon enough it’ll be a whore. Be patient.

Your favorite little bastard,
EJ”

Sent by raven within the hour, Nanissis would receive the letter by sundown.

Upright and walking within the hour, the heads of last night's scouting party would roll in front of their comrades before their corpses were burned with the other casualties.

Smoke billowed into the sky as the pyre was lit. Women. Children. Elves. Traitors.

Einar found rest. Deep rest.

 

[Abstracty]

"Favorite little bastard? I guess that Redmoon bitch really got him good...", Nanissis smirked, as he set down the letter he had just received from General Jaddeth. But despite him talking to himself in a rather amused fashion, the Elf was aware that things got very serious now. After passing the appropriate instructions to ready the men for march and attack, he quickly slipped back to write a letter of his own. Since they would soon depart, he needed to get some word to Prince Kirin, who he felt had slighted them by questioning their debauchery and expenditure of coin.

"To the esteemed Prince Kirin of Odaden,

I hereby offer my humble apologies for any confusion our presence in your fine city might have caused. I assure you, that the imperial treasury does not suffer from our presence here. Any coin spend benefits your local merchants and entrepreneurs, fine and intelligent people, who in turn pay their taxes to you and spend it at the local markets. The taxes you collect will in turn make their way back to the imperial tithes. I dare boast that our presence is a boon to your fine city, not just by way of boosting the local economy. The Seven require worship, the citizens require distraction and the merchants foreign ideas and coin - we provide all of that. Lastly, I would like to remind you of the immediate threat you face at your southern border. The Moon Elves have dastardly and without provocation launched their biggest assault yet, only halted by the presence of the esteemed General Einar Jaddeth. If you feel confident in dealing with Caliban on your own, we could withdraw from the city and spend our coin elsewhere. We are here by the behest of our beloved Emperor and I intend to fullfill my duty to protect the Empire from southern invaders. I hope to count on your continued support and gracious hospitality, as we launch a retaliatory campaign to protect your lands and the Empire.

Seven sinful blessings and regards,
General Nanissis Yevro"

After sending out the letter and finishing preparations, Nanissis personally saw to the improvement of patrol networks in the area, whilst ravens were send out to order the Centaurs to ready for their assault. Since Einar had given an exact time frame, he would coordinate his troops to conduct lightning strikes against the Calibanians as soon as everything was set in motion. After a busy day, Nanissis set out for the hills of Kerth, where he would meet up with his fellow general.

"Ah, my favorite little bastard. I hope you have saved some righteous fury for what is to come?", Nanissis greeted jovially, as he rode to meet General EInar at the gates of Kerth atop a white warhorse. A small group of riders with slightly grayish mounts attended to him, as if they were meant to be slightly less pompous in comparison. With a purple silk cape and spotless, gilded armor he looked much more suited for a parade rather than actual combat. Two other groups of riders followed along, the first a ragtag mixture of mercenary captains with wildly varying gear and symbols. The second group on the other hand was clad in heavy plate and mail, a burning sword touching the sun proudly displayed on their banners and shields - undoubtedly the Knights of Illumination Nanissis had mentioned. "Greetings to you, General Jaddeth. We have received your letter well.", General Yevro remained serious for a moment, making a small gesture to some of his servants who eagerly rushed to help him off his horse. Wrapping part of the cape around his arm, he strutted to meet the bastard. "I knew I should have ordered it shorter, but the fabric is just lovely.", he sighed dramatically, before eyeing Einar up and down. "No visible new scars? I am a bit disappointed, you wrote you were bleeding everywhere.", the regular teasing started soon enough. "So... what happened?"

 

[dikdik]

The coolness of night seeped through the tent, leaving just a shudder about Einar’s bare shoulders as he woke, crisp air tickling his nostrils as he kicked the blankets away, a sigh while the gooseflesh freckled his arms and legs. A black tunic and trousers waited for him, folded on the table next to the bed. In slipping himself into them, Einar noted the bandage wrapped tightly around his waist and hips. Light red had just reached the layer beneath the outermost. He had time before it would need to be bandaged again. Nursing a healing gash meant no unnecessary walking. No morning ritual in the coming days. In its stead, Einar requested a glass of warmed tea and for the small courtyard about his quarters to be cleared at dawn for an hour. Einar pulled his boots on, just a slight wince with curling his body, and walked just outside the tent, a small stool on the eastern side waited with a steaming cup atop it. He sat, holding the cup, resting elbows on knees while he leaned forward, observing as the clouds receded and peeled away from a rising, hard sun.

A day and a half had gone by without any retaliation or second strike from Redmoon and her brood. Something Einar was grateful for. Being caught by surprise felt quite the stupid mistake. Being caught by surprise twice? He might as well fall on the damn sword. A soreness lingered in his arms, a vague throbbing and oozing in his lower left side. The worst of it was over now, the stewards having debrided and bandaged it swiftly after the injury. Now, he’d just need to be mindful of reopening the wound before it slowly knit itself back together. That may require his absence in the attack against Redmoon in the next week. Not something he intended on doing. He’d gush crimson all over the floor if it meant her defeat. And his vengeance.

The tea was gone and the clittering sounds of a busy morning at camp met Einar’s ears. He hadn’t quite realized it had been an hour, and a steward was delivering eggs and bread with a cup of water to his tent as a stretched and paced back inside, consuming quickly, summoning Hedinn who was saddled and prepared for his travel to meet Nanissis, Breath of Eden’s scabbard attached. Einar wouldn’t be late to their meeting again and the morning was a lovely time to ride about the rolling hills, besides.

Upon arriving alone outside of Kerth’s wooden walls, Einar slid off Hedinn’s back, plopping into the grass and leaning against the wall, his hands finding twigs to snap occasionally while he fidgeted with them. The horse took to grazing nearby, glancing about every once in a while, meeting Einar’s eyes, the eyes staring out across the fields watching Memory, feeling a fucking fool. Though he should have expected nothing less, it was the General’s frivolous entrance that pulled Einar back from his memories. The party riding with him was large, strange, and quite odd for a grouping. Heavy plate next to what seemed the remnants of every nasty street gang having toiled to pull itself just up from squalor. It was the ivory white horse at the center that coaxed Einar’s stiff body to standing. Dropping the bits of grass and twigs he’d been toying with, Einar waved curtly, walking towards the group, Hedinn noticing and following behind. Einar said nothing upon Nanissis’ greeting, waiting for the dismissal of the mercenaries and soldiers.

“All the fury, and none of it righteous. Lucky I’m your favorite or some of it might be for you.” Einar flashed a smile and a flippant wink at the General before gesturing towards the gate, Hedinn in tow, an impressive and rich silk cape wrapped about an arm, a jab at a foolish choice in cape ordering before a thorough inspection, an insult. Einar paused his movement toward the gate, whipping his head back around at the elf. Tugging the tail of his tunic free from the top of his trousers, Einar lifted the left side with impudence, gesturing at the bandage, now soiled with red. “Sorry it’s fucking disappointing. I can pull the bandage off if you’d like a better look.” Einar snapped, awaiting a reaction before he continued. “Ale house is just through there to the right. If you want a drink, it’s yours. Or we can speak outside. I’ve quite the gripping story for you.”

And he did. The surprise, the speed, the camp on fire, galloping towards the fray, many non-combatant casualties and an officer or two besides, a silent attacker slashing his side, the thrill of publicly executing incompetent guards, the deep sleep that came after waves of adrenaline and rage. Einar left out the parts about feeling stupid, about bashing a skull to pieces until he was ripped from its corpse; the blood still under his nails even after a good scrubbing told enough of violence. “I’d say that’s the meat of it. Poisoned the river already. Bitch has it coming for her. I’m tempted not to care what you do to her when it’s over. The hells have you been up to while I was pummeled by that fucking witch? Drinking, fucking, and carrying on?”

 

[Abstracty]

"Oh, but I beg to differ!", Nanissis couldn't help but smile deviously. "It is a most righteous fury, since the Elfs have gifted us the perfect Casus Belli against them. A shame what had happened to your men, but we will get revenge soon enough and their heroic deeds in defence of the Empire will justify our invasion to our neighbors and rally the smallfolk around us.", he wasn't delighted to say, but he also didn't seem overly saddened about the soldiers lost. Following Einars invitation, he signalled for the other riders to attend to the trail of men marching in the distance. They had made their entrance, so now they could get back to more practical things, as his mercenary columns were on the move. The Elf caught the clever jab about his cape length and grinned, quite approving of the banter. He was tempted to mention that it wasn't the only thing of his that was longer compared to Einar, but instead he curiously looked at the bloodied bandage, noticing that Einars tone of voice got rougher. "Perhaps later, bit early in the day to undress.", he seemed unperturbed.

"I am never one to decline a polite invitation.", Nanissis happily accepted, walking along Einar to the afformentioned Ale House. It seemed a far cry from the opulence they had previously enjoyed, but Nanissis was soon engrossed in Einars story. "My, my, my...", he teased slowly, before sighing dramatically. "Fair chance of that. Been a lot of drinking and fucking. But also a lot of politicking and planning. The Prince thinks us an unnecessary expense. Some foreign Duchess is visiting the city plotting who-knows-what. There will be a lot of eyes on us when we launch the attack, so its imperative we set a big example of them. Should silence any doubters and show our force to the outside.", his quips quickly turned serious and Nanissis seemed quite offended when he mentioned Prince Kirin. "She did give you a good proper good pummeling, I have to say.", he did smirk at the end though.

Once they had entered the Ale House, he glanced over to Einar. "Chosen the establishment wisely? We can speak freely?", he made sure to ask. "One mustard brew, with the foam at the bottom!", he quipped, as he sat down and flicked a glance towards the innkeeper, who smiled. "We only serve food and drink here. How 'bout a lager then, M'Lord?", the old man shot back. "Go on then.", Nanissis approved, grinning towards Einar. "You have chosen wisely. And I am usually a wine guy. So... our foes are pissing their lungs out the backdoor already? How long will it last?"

 

[dikdik]

Withholding anything more than a dissatisfied huff at Nanissis’ poke about undressing as he tucked the tail of his shirt back around his waist, Einar led the pair through the near-haphazard walls of the village. Kerth was a farming town, as many were in the hills and fields nearby, though it was a crucial waypoint for trade throughout the area, lending well to a quaint inn and a few other amenities nearby. After his ramblings on the nasty experiences of a few nights prior, Einar listened intently to Nanissis reply. Drinking and fucking, it was then. A sliver of him was jealous, but no whore could entertain him quite the same as the shock and adrenaline that bodied him as a fight did; the crunching of bones under the hooves of a warhorse, viscera dripping off the tip of a sword, gripped around the throat by rage.

“I’ll leave the politicking to you. Never was that great at it anyways.” Einar curled a twisted smile, hoping the elf caught his joke as he held the thin door of the inn open and gestured for him to enter. “After you, y’ bastard.” Nanissis continued sharing his findings and his expression seemed to sour in speaking of Kirin, but quickly switched back to his teasing. “I didn’t hate the pummeling, I must say. Just wish I was expecting it.”

Einar’s reply to Nanissis’ asking if he’d chosen the venue wisely was answered with Einar’s addressing the old man behind the bar top with, “Merle, how’s the wife and family? It’s been a few years. I’ve a horse with no rider if you’d like one. I know how it goes trying to run this place in wartime. Don’t mind this one, he’s always got something to say. I’ll have a lager, too, same as him.” Einar flashed a quick “I-told-you-so” glance at Nanissis before continuing. “Oh, and Merle? Don’t let anyone else inside until we’re gone. Business, you know how it goes.”

Upon Merle’s serving them two astonishingly large steins, Einar motioned and led his compatriot from their original seats to a corner table, the top sticky and worn, the seats’ cushions compressed in the middle. Though he trusted Merle, it was best to have their plots inaudible. Einar plopped into the seat in the corner before responding to Nanissis’ questions. “You doubted my choosing our meeting place but you trust me to go to war with you? Anyways, yes. Alchemist said it wouldn’t take too long to set in once the river carried it there. It’ll last long enough for us to rid Moondar of their worthless lives, unless of course you’d prefer enslaving them. I’ll strike with a vengeance, the fury you’re claiming’s righteous and all that. I look forward to settling into their villages. I’d like a roof for once. And to regroup, of course, before we take Caliban, if you’d be so darling as to allow me refuge for a time.”

He was through the ale before he noticed, and with a glance and wave of his hand, Merle obliged and brought another two steins before vanishing to his work once more.

 

[Abstracty]

"Of course, I get to do the dirty work.", Nanissis did indeed catch the joke, smiling along and not missing a beat when the door was opened for him. It almost seemed like he had expected the courtesy and he graciously bowed with a dramatic wave of his cape. "Yes, yes... you did mention that you hate surprises. Well, we just have to make sure that the Moon Worshippers hate theirs more.", the teasing continued, even though the Elf was still rather amused by the 'y'bastard' comment. It seemed to him like the much more rustic meeting spot had a positive effect on Einars tongue and the old man behind the bar seemed enough to finally loosen it up to Nanissis liking.

"And here I was thinking you weren't capable of civilized conversation.", he laughed after letting Einar greet his old friend without interruption. "And for the record, I always got something to say because there is always something that needs to be said.", he informed Merle with a wink, as the steins were brought to them. Examining their supposed seats, Nanissis frowned for a moment, delicately maneuvering his cape so that it wouldn't get too dirty here. He clinked his drink to Einars and took a careful sip. "Still a wine guy. But this ain't too bad. And just for the record, I never doubted your choice. Still had to say something, because I got to.", he was uncharacteristically conservative with his beverage, unlike the fellow general. "Of course you will have refuge. I might charge rent at some point, but we'll see.", he shrugged almost carelessly and with the next motion he placed his hand over his heart, faking offense. "You dare out drink me?", he laughed and shook his head. "Lets talk through troop movements while you still can. I send you plans detailing my first lightning strike, any objections? Of course I can't tell much further, because its hard to plan ahead when you have Centaurs running wild behing enemy lines. And Orcs and Boarlings and Half-Elfs and Tieflings and common street thugs following behind.", his finger swirled around the edge of his massive stein, while his posture relaxed significantly.

But it didn't take long for their productive meeting to be interrupted. Merle was true to his word, not willing to let any new guests in, but this seemed to enrage whoever was knocking at the door. "Oi, ya wee soft'ead, let us in!", a deep and dull voice demanded and Nanissis smirked. "Speaking of my wonderful army... please, do let them in, dear Merle!", Nanissis intervened, leaning over from his seat to greet the visitors with a smirk. An orc and a boarling stumbled into the inn and scoffed at the dutiful innkeeper, before realizing who they had just interrupted. The orc was slightly quicker and raised a confused eyebrow, which was barely visible under his padded fur helmet, adorned with two broken shinbones. He clearly wasn't the first owner of the worn-out mail hanging over his sturdy coat and his fat fingers clenched nervously. The boarling seemed equally rough, with dark-brown fur and thick bristles forming into impressive sideburns almost the entire length of his snout. One tusk was broken off, the other on the other hand quite large and adorned with a metal ring. "Don't be so shy, our dear host just brought two fresh lagers, so do sit down!", Nanissis commanded and the two were delighted that their unauthorized detour went so well. "As you can see, I have some fine shock troops ready.", he quipped as he gestured towards them. "M'Lord...", both grunted as they eagerly took the lagers, missing the irony in their generals voice. "Are you excited for the big push?", he asked them and the orc eagerly nodded his head, whilst the Boarling started drinking already, snobbering over the stein. "Aye, 'course we are, M'lord. Ain't that right, Ottgar?", the orc shoved his elbow into his comrades side, who just nodded, causing Nanissis to grin. "He ain't talkin' too much, but Ottgar is a propa' mercenary geezer, me swears!", the orc tried again and this time Ottgar complied with a shrug. "Luv' me some foightin'. Luv' me some lootin'. Luv' me some lager. Luv' me Emprah. Simple as.", he agreed and Nanissis proudly pointed his hands towards them and looked at Einar, as if to tell him that he had told him so. "The Calibanians shall tremble!", the irony in his voice thickened, but so did his amusement.

 

[dikdik]

Not capable of civilized conversation, my fucking arse. Einar pressed a smile back at Nanissis with, “I fucking hate surprises, but I’m full of ‘em,” suddenly acutely aware that his accent had thickened and his guard had come down just slightly at the sight of a familiar face, the acrid smell of wood burning and stale beer spilled on the floor yet to be mopped from the night before, a kind and warm welcome. The elf’s jab at Einar’s unintentional throwing back an entire stein in but a moment provoked a light laugh. “I’m still bleeding, and I don’t particularly enjoy it. I’d gladly pay rent for a break from the bitch’s night terrors. Just for a little while, of course. I’d be back in the saddle shortly. Of course I’d out drink you. Here, at least. You though? You’d out smoke me. Or out huff me.”

He hadn’t eaten proper, or slept proper, or drank proper in a moment too long. Fuck that Redmoon bitch for this. The warmth hit his cheeks a bit quicker than usual and rattled around in his empty stomach. Nanissis’ ramblings turned to bangings on the door of the inn, a tense rigidity settling into Einar’s legs and hands at the sound as the elf permitted the entry of whoever the hells was making a raucous outside the thin door. Those that entered sent a creeping bile up the back of Einar’s throat and a slight widening to his eyes as he pressed himself into the back of the worn chair. A talking pig and a fucking orc? This was who Nanissis trusted to fight his battles? Their grunt, gruff voices chimed at Nanissis’ chatter as they swiped the two steins Merle was delivering and settled at the table, chugging, hollering, grating their words across Einar’s ears. They took his drink? Nanissis told them to take his drink? What was this? First, awful, stinking company is unexpectedly permitted in a private conversation, and second, they took his fucking drink? Einar’s eyebrows were knit, his expression grim and vexed. As if in unspoken understanding, Merle delivered a third and fourth stein before skittering away once again. Einar snatched the ale from the old man’s weathered, calloused hands and kept it close to the edge of the table, drinking it down a bit faster than intended. The night raid was a surprise. His oozing wound was a surprise. These two incompetent fools were a surprise. And drinking to it all? A surprise. Einar was beginning to wish that Valindra’s defeat would come sooner than later. He had earned a godsdamned break.

“Glad to hear you’re in love with everything, Ottgar.” Glaring daggers at Nanissis through sips of ale interspersed with venomous words. “Ah, yes, my dear comrade, the Calibanians with be so utterly horrified by your troops and so utterly fucking poisoned by mine that they’ll shit themselves to death. An easy victory! Don’t you think?”

Einar was carrying more tension in his body than he realized, only noticing through a slight wince that drove his hand to his side, pulling it away and some blood with it. He downed the rest of the second stein and wiped the thick liquid on his pants leg. Someone would wash them later today, anyways. Didn’t matter.

“Back to the topic at hand. I’ve trust in you. The lightning raids are an intelligent choice. Between my vengeance and your bothersome presence, we’ll have her handled. You’ll have her handled, when it’s through. I’ll be covered in glitter napping next to one of your little demons while you do.” Einar’s patience for the conversation was frazzled, the strident, brash company wearing his already thin patience even thinner. Once the conversation seemed to close on its own, or devolve rather, he bid Merle a warm goodbye, promised he’d have the horse delivered in the next day or so, and carried on, leaving the elf with his resplendent guard and exiting alone.

Hedinn was waiting for him after the short, and sore, walk through the gates. Checking his side once more, the bandage had soaked through and the wound needed a cleaning and a dressing change. Hopefully, it would stop by the time he was to lead his army through a pile of elf-shit.

 

[Abstracty]

"Indeed you are...", Nanissis smugly agreed about Einar being full of surprises. The change in accent wasn't one of them, but confessing that he would pay rent for safety was. "Don't you worry about it, I won't charge much. Perhaps I am even satisfied with just your good company, which I enjoy.", he laughed along and took another sip. "At least you admit it.", the quips came coming, until they were interrupted by unexpected visitors. Nanissis knew that these mercenaries were rarely aware of any finer points of etiquette. To him, none of their behaviour or appearance was in any way surprising, which made it all the more fun to observe General Jaddeth, who was clearly annoyed - and rightly so. But he wouldn't have been the Prince of poisoned tongues if he didn't keep poking the bear a little more, almost enjoying the growing tension at the table as Einar spit out his words.

"I feel honored by your trust.", the elf made every effort to stay extra polite. "I am looking forward to that.", he also agreed to Einars closing remarks and he made sure to accompany him to the door when he left. "Seven sinful blessings. Next time we meet, it will be as victors!", he said his goodbyes with a provocative wink, before returning to the table. He wouldn't leave before his drink was finished, laughing crudely with the two mercenaries, but also making sure to shoo them off very soon. Paying an extra coin to Merle, he bid farewell and warned him that the ground make shake soon and he should probably close his inn on that day. Satisfied with everything, he quickly rejoined with his officers.



As Nanissis had promised, the ground around Kerth shook as the Centaurs galopped to war, their shouts and war drums already riling them up before they had made contact with their enemy. They wouldn't be the first to strike, however, as they would need to exploit gaps scouted and created by the infantry. The Osynian Free Company was the first to act under General Yevros orders, emerging in loose formation and tying the poisoned and exhausted defenders into fruitless skirmishes with bow and arrow at their fortified positions, always staying their distance. This was merely a probing action, as soon the bulk of the mercenaries undertook two actual assaults in larger numbers. The crude orcs and boarlings were send first into the fray, but as soon as they clashed with the enemy, the lightning strikes began and Centaurs poured into deep movements around the distracted and sick defenders. Brass horns and warcries sounded, but were soon drowned in the noise of battle.

Sitting atop his white horse, Nanissis was keen to avoid any of the actual fighting. He proudly observed from a safe distance, silk banners theatrically flying to all sides of him. Once he got tired of observing from horseback, he had his servants carry him off and place him on a comfortable lounger, where he sipped on berry wine as he observed. The Elf even clapped, as the fanatical Knights of Illumination charged into the fray, their armors and shields polished to reflect the sunlight onto the Calabanians. "I need to hear more about that alchemist...", he mumbled to himself, as he realized that the poison had indeed helped their efforts greatly. He sighed, when it was time to move on, as their style of attack meant the Centaurs and much of the mercenary forces would keep on moving and pursueing their foes, prioritizing fast attacks on soft targets over engagements with heavier resistance. "Its going to be a long day.", he sighed, once he was back on horseback. "Any word from General Jaddeth? Find out his exact position!", he ordered one of his men.

 

[Crocodile]

Jannexas flowed from his carriage as he regards the region of Bravkendale. Arlane Rivers stepping out after her new master and patron as she walks along with the demon lord.

"All this for horses?" Arcane mused as she looks out towards a local river nearby as if she could hear it calling to her.

"Backendale horses," Jannexas correctes her with some amusement. "My forces are to support others in the coming conflicts. Good horses is useful for such a role I've been given."

"It's also an opportunity for you," Arcane noted with a knowing expression as she pondered her own dealings with this wily demon.

"Precisely. This merchant wishes his goods back. I grant wishes and will enjoy what else I might reap from this little bit of investment of time and effort." Jannexas chuckles more at that as they start to go to examine the location along with plans to start following leads.

Action: Aid the Brackendale Horse Merchant.

 

[Damian0358]

After meeting with Aranea, Voyka prepared her investigation into the Silvermoon Paper. During her visit at the bar, she had made note of the address listed for where the Silvermoon Daily was written, and packed what she would need for the visit.

Knocking on the door of the paper, she waited but a moment before someone opened the door.

"Hello, how may I help you-" the man at the door spoke before making eye contact with Voyka, who struck a grin in response.

"Mr. Gorduin, I assume?" she addressed the man, hoping to have identified the chief editor.

"Y-yes, Gorduin Lialamin, at your service," the man bowed with slight nervousness, "what honor am I bestowed to have someone of your stature visit my establishment?"

"Oh, nothing to be concerned about, Gorduin," Voyka tilted her head, "my superiors would have called this a routine visit, but I assure you this would be a one and done affair."

"A r-routine visit... if I may ask why?"

"Rumors have spread my way regarding your paper. The last thing I would want to do is to have your establishment shut down because of such rumors, so I've come to assure the opposite," Voyka maintained her grin as she explained why.

Gorduin paused for a moment, wondering whether to ask what the rumors were, but deciding against it. "...I've heard no rumors, but if they had made it to your ears, they must be serious. Please, come in."

Gorduin allowed Voyka in, and she proceeded to follow him to his office, passing by the printing press in another room. She noted that the operation here seemed to be entirely self-run, a potentially costly decision but one which meant that as few people were involved in the chain of production as possible. It was directly from author to paper here, so if a paper was selling well, it meant greater profits.

Gorduin offered Voyka a seat, before sitting down at his own behind his desk. He eyed her down for a moment before speaking.

"...so, if I may ask what you will be searching in specific?"

"I want to give your operation here a look-over, perhaps speak with anyone else present, and then finally ask you some questions. Without supervision," Voyka explained.

"I can't let you roam around without supervision, lest we risk something being misplaced."

"I'll do my diligence to ensure everything is returned to its rightful place."

"And what will you do if you damage something because no one explained to you its purpose?

"I'll pay the damages."

Voyka spoke fairly plainly despite the look on her face, which unnerved Gorduin. After a few moments of pause, he waved his hand upward.

"...alright. But at least let me tell you what each room is intended for."

"Alright, lead the way," the old woman responded, getting up first before following Gorduin through the building. Alongside his office and the printing room, there were rooms for storage, both for basic necessities and for newspaper stock, the writer's room where two others were present at the moment, the back area, and so on. It was a fairly concentrated operation.

With a nod, Gorduin sluggishly left Voyka to walk the premises by her lonesome. She had paid attention in the brief tour points of interest for her investigation, and approached each and every one of them. She kept her word on keeping things orderly, both for the sake of those working, but also to ensure no one would notice that she had snooped for secrets. The interviews she would conduct with the two other writers present that day, and the printing press worker, shed further light on the attitude of the people in the city towards her and her men, but otherwise didn't seem to revealing aside from potentially hinting toward an agenda. The printing press worker would prove different there.

"...and that's how you operate a printing press," the man had finished explaining the machine, Voyka looking impressed.

"With so many moving parts, one has to wonder how often something like this gets jammed," she remarked.

"The new design this thing uses ensures that less gunk gets stuck, allowing for smooth motion and printing. It's remarkable Gorduin managed to snag one of these."

"Is that so? And he started out with one of these?"

"Yeah. When he hired me, he handed me the instructions and told me to figure out the rest based on my experience on similar machines, but this one has just been such a swell experience."

"Did you know Gorduin prior to this?"

"Only to a limited degree, friend of a friend of a friend. I know he was working on a book at least, while working his job out on the port, but he started this place in hopes of getting it out there. Still hasn't finished that book though, so he figured a newspaper would ensure he'd get his investment back," the man explained.

"...why would he need a printing press for a book he was planning to self-publish?"

"Who knows? Maybe he felt paying the cost to get a limited handmade run would prove too costly, and he did have a bad time at Phivalur, the local publisher, so..." the man shrugged.

"Did his previous work make him enough money to have been able to set up all this?"

"Hm..." the man scratched his chin, "if he saved enough, sure."

"Has he quit working at the port?"

"The moment we officially opened, he did."

"Despite his family?"

"He seems well-off enough at this point, so I suppose so."

Voyka nodded as she looked over the press one last time.

"...alright, that'll be all. Thank you for your time," she said, the man nodding in response. She had heard enough.

Knocking on Gorduin's door, she heard him allowing her to come in, and she made her presence known immediately upon refusing to sit down.

"...have you turned anything up concerning, ma'am?" Gorduin asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Voyka began, prompting eyebrows raised from Gorduin, "at least, in so far as the rumor concerns."

"...what did the rumor concern anyway?" Gorduin narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, just accusatory claims of the paper biasing itself toward Lunarans and demonizing Solmans, and how this reflected in an anti-establishment tone in the paper," Voyka explained quite plainly, with Gorduin pausing his expression.

"As I've found in the time I've spent here in the city, I've found there to be a natural disposition towards Lunarans. This by itself isn't a bad thing, mind you, everyone has their preferences..."

Voyka leaned over the table.

"...but anyone's preferences can be taken advantage of."

Gorduin maintained a stonefaced look.

"Which then results in this perception that the paper dislikes the Empire, given its Solmanite inclinations. Speaking with everyone here however has shown me this not to be the case," Voyka said, surprising Gorduin.

"People just don't like the sudden change of an army coming in and the impacts that has to the area, which is fair enough. You may not be able to do anything to tell our Lord that he should not keep his forces here, but that doesn't mean you can't express your disatisfaction, at least as long as it doesn't cause trouble, right?"

"...right," Gorduin responded.

"So I have no concerns in that regard," she finished her explanation.

"...but you mentioned you only found nothing regarding the rumor," Gorduin tugged on the thought in the back of his head.

"Correct," Voyka grinned, having baited Gorduin into her trap, "tell me, Gorduin, how well does your enterprise reward you per month?"

"Enough," Gorduin looked to the side.

"Enough to pay for not only yourself, not only your family, but also your employees, the upfront investment you needed for this operation, and the rent for this space? Because if you bought this place outright as well, that just raises even more questions," Voyka began laying it in.

"I managed to save enough to afford the upfront costs."

"Did you? I wasn't aware port workers were paid all that well to allow for pay like this. Especially those with families."

"What are you getting at?" Gorduin faced Voyka, attempting to seem stern, only to be faced with her deathly stare as she slammed her fist into his table, leaving a small indent.

"...you have an investor."

"...what?"

"Alongside everything I've mentioned, you're also self-publishing the paper to such an extent where it is available across not just the city, but, from what I've heard, outside city limits too. On a daily basis. With only yourself and a team of writers," Voyka stated, having learned early he had more writers employed, "the economics of it all don't make sense, especially with the size your paper is."

Gorduin remained silent.

"And so, a question poses itself - who might this investor be? Who would swoop in to help a struggling writer out so that he could eventually release his own work without the pressures of a publisher looming over them?"

Gorduin looked angry, but continued his silence.

"Based on your writers, at least the two here right now, there didn't seem to be much pro-Lunaran or anti-Solman inclination within the paper, yet read the text and you'd see otherwise. Why would there be such a disconnect?"

"...you might be aware of our readers' biases."

"Of course, no one wants to lose readers because you ran a story exclaiming the Solmans weren't bad or what have you... but it doesn't mean the current tone is justified either."

"What are you suggesting?"

"...if you did have an investor, and there's nothing right now suggesting otherwise, wouldn't they have biases too they'd want represented in the paper?"

"...perhaps."

Voyka's grin returned.

"Gorduin, I want you to understand that the only thing I want for you is the best, but I will be completely clear here. I have the right to take action right now."

"...what do you intend to do?"

"...perhaps see whether your family knows the true cost of your business."

Gorduin stood up.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Does my reputation not precede me, Gorduin? I would dare. I've dared worse."

Gorduin tried to shimmy to the side towards one of the cabinets.

"Don't move, Gorduin."

The moment she spoke, he tried to rush toward the cabinets, only to be foiled by Voyka kicking his table so hard it pinned him against the wall. He wailed in pain.

"What you're feeling right now will be only a fraction of what your family will face if you don't speak the truth this moment."

"W-what do you want me to say?!" Gorduin begged.

"Are you working with Althreiell?"

Gorduin's breath was ragged, as he attempted to figure out how to answer her question.

"Yes or no, Gorduin."

"...please, I..."

"Whatever you tell me right now, I will keep to myself. No one else has to know, Gorduin."

Gorduin looked to the ground briefly, contemplating his choices, before finally looking back to Voyka.

"...I am. T-they gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, after everything at Phivalur fell apart... I'd have my own publishing house, and I could finally get my life's work released to the public, but they wanted me to ensure the public was on their side."

Voyka nodded. "So is one of your employees an Althreiell spy?"

"And if they were?" Gorduin responded.

"Answer the question."

"N-no, they found that too suspicious. He works elsewhere in the city, but visits to drop info from their vast information network."

"...I assume you don't know their name and address too."

"N-no..."

Voyka paused, looking out the nearby window, before speaking once more.

"...I could beat you within an inch of your life right now, drag your near dead body through the streets, and then beat your family to death with your limp body," Voyka exclaimed very plainly, before turning her gaze back at Gorduin, "but I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

Gorduin limply nodded.

"Again, the last thing I want to do is rob a man of everything he's achieved. So, tell me, Gorduin, how willing are you to work with me?"

"...can you guarantee my family won't come to harm?"

"I can't guarantee that. Thunderstorms could destroy your home and kill them in an instant," Voyka joked, "But I can guarantee I won't do them any harm."

Gorduin attempted to steady his breath.

"...then I'm willing."

---

At the edge of her camp, two of Voyka's men were talking about whatever came to mind. Though they were on watch duty, most avoided directly visiting the camp, so boredom inevitably struck.

"...and then this guy comes up to me, biggest sack I've seen in my life - I find myself staring - and he goes 'hey, want to have fun tonight?'"

"What then?"

"Well, let's just say there's a reason why I came back late tonight."

"You dog!"

At that moment, the two began hearing noise in the distance.

"Hwat?! Is someone coming?"

"I dunno, you see anyone approaching?"

"No, I, uh... wait, is that a fucking spider?"

"Heavens above, it's massive."

At that moment, they began to hear a voice in their head, telling them to calm down, and explaining who was approaching.

"...oh gods I had forgotten one of the generals was a spider."

"Dalibor, can you, uh, handle this? I, um, I dunno if I can."

"...yeah, sure. General Aranea, please follow me."

Aranea would follow the soldier deeper into Voyka's camp, a fairly traditional Osynean encampment featuring flourishes unique to Voyka, such as the larger-than-life catering area with her massive pot, and material which existed for setting up impromptu housing in the Rogovac style. It lacked the beauty which Aranea's camp flourished in, but there was a rustic and rural charm to the camp here.

"Baba, you have a visitor," the man called out, before turning towards Aranea and bowing to leave. Soon thereafter, Voyka approached, having seemingly just washed and in fresh clothing.

"Just in time, you cannot imagine the mess today's meals have turned out to be. No one in this camp knows how to handle fruit," he remarked with the sort of tone which makes you wonder if he's saying this playfully or seriously, "follow me to my tent."

The two continued just a bit further, with Voyka pulling the tent entrance to the side to allow Aranea to enter first, before following in after.

"Feel free to rest on the cushions and spread your legs for a moment," Voyka offered, before getting right into business.

"So, what would you like to discuss, Aranea?"

Scatterbrain

 

[Scatterbrain]

After meeting with Aranea, Voyka prepared her investigation into the Silvermoon Paper. During her visit at the bar, she had made note of the address listed for where the Silvermoon Daily was written, and packed what she would need for the visit.

Knocking on the door of the paper, she waited but a moment before someone opened the door.

"Hello, how may I help you-" the man at the door spoke before making eye contact with Voyka, who struck a grin in response.

"Mr. Gorduin, I assume?" she addressed the man, hoping to have identified the chief editor.

"Y-yes, Gorduin Lialamin, at your service," the man bowed with slight nervousness, "what honor am I bestowed to have someone of your stature visit my establishment?"

"Oh, nothing to be concerned about, Gorduin," Voyka tilted her head, "my superiors would have called this a routine visit, but I assure you this would be a one and done affair."

"A r-routine visit... if I may ask why?"

"Rumors have spread my way regarding your paper. The last thing I would want to do is to have your establishment shut down because of such rumors, so I've come to assure the opposite," Voyka maintained her grin as she explained why.

Gorduin paused for a moment, wondering whether to ask what the rumors were, but deciding against it. "...I've heard no rumors, but if they had made it to your ears, they must be serious. Please, come in."

Gorduin allowed Voyka in, and she proceeded to follow him to his office, passing by the printing press in another room. She noted that the operation here seemed to be entirely self-run, a potentially costly decision but one which meant that as few people were involved in the chain of production as possible. It was directly from author to paper here, so if a paper was selling well, it meant greater profits.

Gorduin offered Voyka a seat, before sitting down at his own behind his desk. He eyed her down for a moment before speaking.

"...so, if I may ask what you will be searching in specific?"

"I want to give your operation here a look-over, perhaps speak with anyone else present, and then finally ask you some questions. Without supervision," Voyka explained.

"I can't let you roam around without supervision, lest we risk something being misplaced."

"I'll do my diligence to ensure everything is returned to its rightful place."

"And what will you do if you damage something because no one explained to you its purpose?

"I'll pay the damages."

Voyka spoke fairly plainly despite the look on her face, which unnerved Gorduin. After a few moments of pause, he waved his hand upward.

"...alright. But at least let me tell you what each room is intended for."

"Alright, lead the way," the old woman responded, getting up first before following Gorduin through the building. Alongside his office and the printing room, there were rooms for storage, both for basic necessities and for newspaper stock, the writer's room where two others were present at the moment, the back area, and so on. It was a fairly concentrated operation.

With a nod, Gorduin sluggishly left Voyka to walk the premises by her lonesome. She had paid attention in the brief tour points of interest for her investigation, and approached each and every one of them. She kept her word on keeping things orderly, both for the sake of those working, but also to ensure no one would notice that she had snooped for secrets. The interviews she would conduct with the two other writers present that day, and the printing press worker, shed further light on the attitude of the people in the city towards her and her men, but otherwise didn't seem to revealing aside from potentially hinting toward an agenda. The printing press worker would prove different there.

"...and that's how you operate a printing press," the man had finished explaining the machine, Voyka looking impressed.

"With so many moving parts, one has to wonder how often something like this gets jammed," she remarked.

"The new design this thing uses ensures that less gunk gets stuck, allowing for smooth motion and printing. It's remarkable Gorduin managed to snag one of these."

"Is that so? And he started out with one of these?"

"Yeah. When he hired me, he handed me the instructions and told me to figure out the rest based on my experience on similar machines, but this one has just been such a swell experience."

"Did you know Gorduin prior to this?"

"Only to a limited degree, friend of a friend of a friend. I know he was working on a book at least, while working his job out on the port, but he started this place in hopes of getting it out there. Still hasn't finished that book though, so he figured a newspaper would ensure he'd get his investment back," the man explained.

"...why would he need a printing press for a book he was planning to self-publish?"

"Who knows? Maybe he felt paying the cost to get a limited handmade run would prove too costly, and he did have a bad time at Phivalur, the local publisher, so..." the man shrugged.

"Did his previous work make him enough money to have been able to set up all this?"

"Hm..." the man scratched his chin, "if he saved enough, sure."

"Has he quit working at the port?"

"The moment we officially opened, he did."

"Despite his family?"

"He seems well-off enough at this point, so I suppose so."

Voyka nodded as she looked over the press one last time.

"...alright, that'll be all. Thank you for your time," she said, the man nodding in response. She had heard enough.

Knocking on Gorduin's door, she heard him allowing her to come in, and she made her presence known immediately upon refusing to sit down.

"...have you turned anything up concerning, ma'am?" Gorduin asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Voyka began, prompting eyebrows raised from Gorduin, "at least, in so far as the rumor concerns."

"...what did the rumor concern anyway?" Gorduin narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, just accusatory claims of the paper biasing itself toward Lunarans and demonizing Solmans, and how this reflected in an anti-establishment tone in the paper," Voyka explained quite plainly, with Gorduin pausing his expression.

"As I've found in the time I've spent here in the city, I've found there to be a natural disposition towards Lunarans. This by itself isn't a bad thing, mind you, everyone has their preferences..."

Voyka leaned over the table.

"...but anyone's preferences can be taken advantage of."

Gorduin maintained a stonefaced look.

"Which then results in this perception that the paper dislikes the Empire, given its Solmanite inclinations. Speaking with everyone here however has shown me this not to be the case," Voyka said, surprising Gorduin.

"People just don't like the sudden change of an army coming in and the impacts that has to the area, which is fair enough. You may not be able to do anything to tell our Lord that he should not keep his forces here, but that doesn't mean you can't express your disatisfaction, at least as long as it doesn't cause trouble, right?"

"...right," Gorduin responded.

"So I have no concerns in that regard," she finished her explanation.

"...but you mentioned you only found nothing regarding the rumor," Gorduin tugged on the thought in the back of his head.

"Correct," Voyka grinned, having baited Gorduin into her trap, "tell me, Gorduin, how well does your enterprise reward you per month?"

"Enough," Gorduin looked to the side.

"Enough to pay for not only yourself, not only your family, but also your employees, the upfront investment you needed for this operation, and the rent for this space? Because if you bought this place outright as well, that just raises even more questions," Voyka began laying it in.

"I managed to save enough to afford the upfront costs."

"Did you? I wasn't aware port workers were paid all that well to allow for pay like this. Especially those with families."

"What are you getting at?" Gorduin faced Voyka, attempting to seem stern, only to be faced with her deathly stare as she slammed her fist into his table, leaving a small indent.

"...you have an investor."

"...what?"

"Alongside everything I've mentioned, you're also self-publishing the paper to such an extent where it is available across not just the city, but, from what I've heard, outside city limits too. On a daily basis. With only yourself and a team of writers," Voyka stated, having learned early he had more writers employed, "the economics of it all don't make sense, especially with the size your paper is."

Gorduin remained silent.

"And so, a question poses itself - who might this investor be? Who would swoop in to help a struggling writer out so that he could eventually release his own work without the pressures of a publisher looming over them?"

Gorduin looked angry, but continued his silence.

"Based on your writers, at least the two here right now, there didn't seem to be much pro-Lunaran or anti-Solman inclination within the paper, yet read the text and you'd see otherwise. Why would there be such a disconnect?"

"...you might be aware of our readers' biases."

"Of course, no one wants to lose readers because you ran a story exclaiming the Solmans weren't bad or what have you... but it doesn't mean the current tone is justified either."

"What are you suggesting?"

"...if you did have an investor, and there's nothing right now suggesting otherwise, wouldn't they have biases too they'd want represented in the paper?"

"...perhaps."

Voyka's grin returned.

"Gorduin, I want you to understand that the only thing I want for you is the best, but I will be completely clear here. I have the right to take action right now."

"...what do you intend to do?"

"...perhaps see whether your family knows the true cost of your business."

Gorduin stood up.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Does my reputation not precede me, Gorduin? I would dare. I've dared worse."

Gorduin tried to shimmy to the side towards one of the cabinets.

"Don't move, Gorduin."

The moment she spoke, he tried to rush toward the cabinets, only to be foiled by Voyka kicking his table so hard it pinned him against the wall. He wailed in pain.

"What you're feeling right now will be only a fraction of what your family will face if you don't speak the truth this moment."

"W-what do you want me to say?!" Gorduin begged.

"Are you working with Althreiell?"

Gorduin's breath was ragged, as he attempted to figure out how to answer her question.

"Yes or no, Gorduin."

"...please, I..."

"Whatever you tell me right now, I will keep to myself. No one else has to know, Gorduin."

Gorduin looked to the ground briefly, contemplating his choices, before finally looking back to Voyka.

"...I am. T-they gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, after everything at Phivalur fell apart... I'd have my own publishing house, and I could finally get my life's work released to the public, but they wanted me to ensure the public was on their side."

Voyka nodded. "So is one of your employees an Althreiell spy?"

"And if they were?" Gorduin responded.

"Answer the question."

"N-no, they found that too suspicious. He works elsewhere in the city, but visits to drop info from their vast information network."

"...I assume you don't know their name and address too."

"N-no..."

Voyka paused, looking out the nearby window, before speaking once more.

"...I could beat you within an inch of your life right now, drag your near dead body through the streets, and then beat your family to death with your limp body," Voyka exclaimed very plainly, before turning her gaze back at Gorduin, "but I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

Gorduin limply nodded.

"Again, the last thing I want to do is rob a man of everything he's achieved. So, tell me, Gorduin, how willing are you to work with me?"

"...can you guarantee my family won't come to harm?"

"I can't guarantee that. Thunderstorms could destroy your home and kill them in an instant," Voyka joked, "But I can guarantee I won't do them any harm."

Gorduin attempted to steady his breath.

"...then I'm willing."

---

At the edge of her camp, two of Voyka's men were talking about whatever came to mind. Though they were on watch duty, most avoided directly visiting the camp, so boredom inevitably struck.

"...and then this guy comes up to me, biggest sack I've seen in my life - I find myself staring - and he goes 'hey, want to have fun tonight?'"

"What then?"

"Well, let's just say there's a reason why I came back late tonight."

"You dog!"

At that moment, the two began hearing noise in the distance.

"Hwat?! Is someone coming?"

"I dunno, you see anyone approaching?"

"No, I, uh... wait, is that a fucking spider?"

"Heavens above, it's massive."

At that moment, they began to hear a voice in their head, telling them to calm down, and explaining who was approaching.

"...oh gods I had forgotten one of the generals was a spider."

"Dalibor, can you, uh, handle this? I, um, I dunno if I can."

"...yeah, sure. General Aranea, please follow me."

Aranea would follow the soldier deeper into Voyka's camp, a fairly traditional Osynean encampment featuring flourishes unique to Voyka, such as the larger-than-life catering area with her massive pot, and material which existed for setting up impromptu housing in the Rogovac style. It lacked the beauty which Aranea's camp flourished in, but there was a rustic and rural charm to the camp here.

"Baba, you have a visitor," the man called out, before turning towards Aranea and bowing to leave. Soon thereafter, Voyka approached, having seemingly just washed and in fresh clothing.

"Just in time, you cannot imagine the mess today's meals have turned out to be. No one in this camp knows how to handle fruit," he remarked with the sort of tone which makes you wonder if he's saying this playfully or seriously, "follow me to my tent."

The two continued just a bit further, with Voyka pulling the tent entrance to the side to allow Aranea to enter first, before following in after.

"Feel free to rest on the cushions and spread your legs for a moment," Voyka offered, before getting right into business.

"So, what would you like to discuss, Aranea?"

Scatterbrain

Aranea glided gracefully into the tent, her many legs making barely a sound against the ground as she entered. She took in the surroundings briefly, noting the rustic feel of the camp compared to her own. She settled herself as comfortably as he could on the cushions, her many legs folding beneath her in a fluid motion. Despite the relaxed nature of the setting, her mind was fully focused on the task at hand.

"Voyka, the time to strike draws near." stated Aranea. "The elves have grown more cautious, and I can sense their fear tightening around them like a noose. Luthais is desperate to hold the river and I have heard he has petitioning his homeland for more experienced men. We need to act before they have the chance to reinforce their defences."

 

[Damian0358]

Aranea glided gracefully into the tent, her many legs making barely a sound against the ground as she entered. She took in the surroundings briefly, noting the rustic feel of the camp compared to her own. She settled herself as comfortably as he could on the cushions, her many legs folding beneath her in a fluid motion. Despite the relaxed nature of the setting, her mind was fully focused on the task at hand.

"Voyka, the time to strike draws near." stated Aranea. "The elves have grown more cautious, and I can sense their fear tightening around them like a noose. Luthais is desperate to hold the river and I have heard he has petitioning his homeland for more experienced men. We need to act before they have the chance to reinforce their defences."

Voyka's grin shone brightly as Aranea stated her intentions.

"Then strike we shall," the old hag said smoothly, "and just as I had made important preparations on my part for the coming battle. My men have been waiting gleefully for this," she commented with a joyous tone.

"Now then, if we intend to strike, we have to discuss attack order. To ensure victory, we have to consider who strikes first and when," Voyka explained, "While I wouldn't mind striking first, I've always been more exceptional as part of the backline, reinforcing our forces as to overwhelm the enemy in steady waves of men. Given your position by the river, I assume you have far greater familiarity of the terrain that'll likely make our battlegrounds, a familiarity you would want to take advantage of before Luthais catches wind. So," she leaned in closer, "I would imagine you have a preferred attack order?"