Fantasy Humalgam - Lost but reborn

[AiDEE-c0]

The Virm's Eye, the throne-room

At the center of a grand fortress, an emperor sits pondering upon his throne. Sun rays fall upon his face through the unfinished windows, noon is approaching. With a sigh, he fixes his curled stature straight, as footsteps resound, coming from the halls ahead. Several figures, dressed in velvet robes march into the room, all kneeling before the throne in a half-circle, silent. The emperor, after a short while of stretching, scratches his temple and starts supporting his head with his right arm, the golden crown upon his head tilted to the left.
"Fredric, you may stand. The rest of you keep your heads down."
This order, uttered in seeming annoyance, is answered right away, with the man kneeling in the middle of the half-circle standing up, bowing his head once and opening his mouth.
"Your utmost excellency,-"
"Is everything prepared, ready?"
"Yes, of course, your-"
"Good, then you are dismissed. At once."
The velvet-clad Fredric bows his head yet again, before walking out of the room at a brisk pace. Two clicks of a door echo through-out the halls, as the emperor forces a smirk onto his tired face. For the last year and more, war preparations gave him little rest. Constantly nagging nobles, rebellious mayors of border villages and "representatives" of overworked farmers, brewing up an outright war turned out to be much harder than a simple uprising.
"Wolfgang!"
The sudden shout caught the kneeling nobles by slight surprise, some of them widening their eyes and others reeling back a bit. Only one remained completely still, standing up elegantly and removing his hood. Wolfgang, the youngest of the nobles assembled, with a pale face, light brown hair and hazel eyes. He stood, donning a smile upon his cheeks.
"Yes?"
"I take it that the list has been completed, messengers sent?"
"Why yes, of course. Everything has been taken care of."
"I see, good work. Thank you, boy."
"It was nothing, father."
At this, the emperor and his son exchanged nods, the latter turning heel and slowly taking his leave, the former returning back to addressing the nobles assembled.
"Now, all of you may ruin my day with your reports, go on ahead..."

The lands of pink flesh, houses of indulgence

The many preparations were still in full swing, but so was the tavern business. The bigger the city, the bigger the ruckus, louder the crude singing and more numerous the men sleeping on the ground. It was the soldiers not already positioned at a border or fortress, indulging in as many a mortal pleasure as was possible, given their limited time. From tomorrow onwards, a ban on drinking alcohol and smoking opiates was to be put into effect for the soldiers, so it is only fair that they get to enjoy themselves to the max today.

However, some people are clearly to be disturbed from their doings today already, as messengers flood city after city, village after village, looking for a very specific selection of individuals. As of yet, their success has been very limited, but messengers of the emperor are very well known for being quite persistent.

And so, the taverns get even louder as messengers swarm, for they serve as undeniable confirmation.
The next few years will be bloody.

Borders, lines of tension

While no war has yet been officially declared, the human border has already seen bloodshed. The other races would have to be less than primitive to not know what was about to come. Small brawls, ambushes and all sorts of trickery has been unleashed upon the human soldiers, but all lines remain unbroken. Nothing will pass. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Those were the simple orders given to these defenders, waiting to turn attacker.

Of course, not all threats are external, and soldiers have already had to put down some big-mouthed mayors. Mayors that fear the oncoming conflict, having doubts in just how well humanity can handle a full-scale war with all of its neighbors. But all of these sub-nobles have been taken care of, branded as traitors and believers of non-human religions.

Still, the tension, both internal and external remains high.

Slav Foxhound Dooplighost Remembrance​

 

[Slav]

Lyon chugged a mug of ale and after he was finished , he motioned the bartender to get him another, it was probably his fifth one. He turned to his beer buddy, "So...." His beer buddy sleeping on the counter. He grinned at the sight of it, people around here were lightweights. The bartender arrived with his new one and he took a sip of it, the effects of the alcohol was starting to hit him. Lyon was getting more drunk by the minute. Lyon was drinking himself to sleep in a town near the capital of the Daggerhill. He had recently returned from a long campaign against the Ogres and before he stopped by and said his hello to his parent's, he would spend this time drinking til he blacked out. He took another large sip of his ale; the tavern was quiet for the time of day, which surprised him because this was the place to go in the town. Lyon shifted in his seat almost falling over because of how much he drank.

 

[Dooplighost]

Diana’s walk back from the border of Edglement to her cabin wasn’t a long one usually, but this time Diana wasn’t in the best shape. She was tired, breathing heavily and trudging a bit from a small wound she’d recieved in battle about a half hour ago. As much as she loved her Great-sword, walks with when she was tired were far from a good experience. She had to drag the heavy metal along the ground, its blade leaving a dirt trail of in the grass, Diana was far too tired to use any magic to assist her carrying it. The attacks on the border were getting stronger, the number of foes growing in number. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle herself with the increased pressure, Diana had avoided most damage rather easily in the last battle, only slipping up when thinking about how much harder it had been getting to fight them off recently. The problem was that the work was getting harder but the pay wasn’t getting higher. Diana scowled as she was forced to stop walking, her sword had gotten stuck on something sticking out of the ground.

She loosened the sword and pulled it out, she’d only walk a bit farther till she reached the front door. Her tired gauntlet reaching out to the handle and twisting it, her cabin was small and tucked away from Edgelement and any other villages around, there wasn’t anything of value in there either- she could afford to keep it unlocked. With a final heave, Diana pulled her weapon into her house, simply dropping it just out of the way of the door. Stretching her arms out and undoing her ponytail with a satisfied sigh, Diana began to scan her cupboards for anything to eat, her front door left wide open.

 

[Foxhound]

The battle was over. The borders of Sungrain Lands were calm once again. Marton was standing in the middle of the circle formed from bodies of dead foes, dark blood dripping off his long-sword and grey smoke slowly rising from his left gauntlet. Although breathing heavily, he himself remained unharmed. Marton wiped the blood off his blade, returning long-sword to its sheath. After that, he turned around and walked away, heading right to the guardhouse of the Human Army on the edge of a nearby village. Marton already got paid so he didn't have to talk to anybody. Untying the bridle of his horse and rode off the road leading up to the village, riding towards a small forest not that far away from the guardhouse.

Marton set up a small camp for himself. Unloading the luggage off of his horse. He took off his gauntlets, cuirass and single pauldron. Made a small campfire, then ate a piece of black bread and started preparing a place to sleep at, but actually falling asleep gave him trouble, so instead, Marton stayed awake, playing with a small flame he pulled out of the campfire.

 

[AiDEE-c0]

Messengers, untouchable but mortal

As the drunk Lyon shifted about, the doors of the tavern he was inhabiting opened with a bang. The men that weren't already passed out now remained silent, as a leather-clad man, bearing the insignia of the Virm upon his right hand walked through the busted door and took a seat next to the blonde drunk. Motioning towards the bartender, he'd flip him a single silver coin, before opening his mouth.
"Not a single cup for..."
Taking a moment to look around, the messenger stopped mid-speech. At last fixing his eyes in the direction of Lyon, he'd smile, continuing.
"This drunkard here anymore. He'll have to live in abstinence for a while."
The bartender examined the coin thrown to him for a while, sighing and nodding, before walking off.
"I hope you're still capable of understanding human language, for the emperor himself has called you specifically to his service, consider yourself lucky."
Gaze fully turned towards Lyon, the messenger spoke calmly, almost with a tint of supposed superiority. Turning around to face the still open door, he'd grin, speaking further.
"Keep in mind that by denying this request, you'd actively mark yourself as a traitor to Humankind. I can also pass onto you the written order, if you think you can handle reading."
Slav

Marton, resting at his little camp, could start hearing the clapping of hooves in the distance. As the sound grew nearer, he could also catch slight murmurs, presumably of other humans. Sure enough, a cavalry patrol of three rode up to him, stopping only a few meters away from the campfire. One of the soldiers dismounted his horse, walking up to Marton slowly, a hand always kept on the scabbard of his sword.
"You! What are you-!"
He'd call out, before assessing something and shaking his head from side to side a few times.
"You must be... right. A messenger of Ramund has been looking for you all day, he left you this paper, here."
The soldier used his left hand to grab a small scroll out of a satchel at his side, throwing it at Marton's feet.
"Seems you've been summoned. I'd make my way quick to the capital, if I were you, for your own good."
With that, the soldier made haste back to his horse, mounting it and shouting something, upon which all of the men rode out into the dead of night once more.
Foxhound

Walking through the front door of a lonely cabin would be a hooded man, donning brown clothes and a grey robe. The emperor's insignia upon his cloak, he'd observe his surroundings.
"Rather cheap. Makes one wonder what the emperor sees in these people."
The messenger muttered, before forcing out a loud cough.
"I hope that I'm not disturbing at an hour of dark, but I was told that I'd find a Diana here?"
He'd exclaim emphatically, tapping his foot as he spoke.
"Whatever is the case, a Diana Cla-Cal... Cl..."
Forcibly coughing again, the man rolled his eyes, cursing silently.
"A Diana of Edglement has been called upon by the emperor, Ramund the first the Vermillion himself. Does she wish to keep her head on her shoulders, she should hastily travel to the empire's capital as soon as possible."
"Now if you'll excuse me."
The messenger then disappeared in the darkness of night, without any further word.
Dooplighost​

 

[Slav]

Lyon was trying to hold himself steady, listening to the man. If the emperor wanted something to do with him that meant that things were getting dire. He tried to speak but a lot of it came out slurred, "Just give me the damn scroll, I can read just fine." He said a bit rudely. These messengers thought highly of themselves when in reality they were no more than peasants. He took another sip of what was left in his mug, that was the last thing he needed. When he finished, he gave out an obnoxious burp, not really giving a damn. His eyelids were starting to get a bit heavy, though he knew he'd should probably read the scroll first before passing out on the counter. He also didn't like the part where he was forced to do this though he didn't mind as long as he got to kill some heathens. He felt he would being doing a lot of it in the next few months.