Nations of the Second Age

[Soviet Panda]

Buras pondered the offer briefly before grunting. "We have a deal. Snikrit, get your warband ready to move. Inform the other Warmongers, we have a fight that needs getting to." Turning back to the shade, he studies the darkly clad figure for a brief moment before waving his hand as if to dismiss him, but quickly adding "leave the chest," before the shade actually left. An upfront payment to ensure that the deed was done. And something for Buras to ponder over what to do with as they traveled towards this Barding Church.

Within moments, the makeshift encampment was gone, the hide tents carried on the backs of Stedonare or over the shoulder of a Hridir. And with a wordless roar, Buras lead his horde West, in the general direction of their target. Along the way would be other empires, unfortunate settlements dotting his path. But these would only serve as a warning to these nations. That there was something very big out there, and it was going to be coming for them very soon.

 

[Petroshka]

Summer 5419

Loud banging was heard throughout the large holds within the Nachima domain, Forges roared and the bubbling of magma was dominant. Inside one of the production chambers laid steel frames of to be Nachima, spread out one foot apart with a robed figure floating above the rows and rows of husks that were to be given life. The robed figure was attached to various cables connecting to the ceiling, with sparse Nachima assistants running up and down the rows tinkering with some of the machines that the husks were on. The robed automaton went from one husk to another, working on each frame with various multiple limbs coming from it, welding and bending metal. Once complete the assistants would go around to each frame to attach a cable to each, it was a long and tedious task but they were used to it.

As the cables lit up, the Nachimidian frames started to glow with the energy that was present and familiar to all the Nachima. As each was given life, they looked around confused as the robed construct floated over them, seeing from the vantage point of one of these many husks, the construct was akin to a ball with multiple eyes that obsessed over every detail of the person, connected to it were hundreds of limbs that were used to build the Nachima. One by one it went from one Nachima to another giving them their own little designs and designating them their names, its voice did not emanate from itself but rather the whole room, it was a low monotone voice that seemed to drown the room whenever it spoke. "Sinteael, welcome to the world of Morfea. I am Grand Architect Atmortan." it spoke to one of the Nachima which was then assisted by the assistance to guide him to the correct place. The Grand Architect moved to another frame. "Nurnuth, welcome to the world of Morfea. I am Grand Architect Atmortan."

This continued for longer more until it reached to a certain frame, it was not specially marked, nor had it anything that would make it stand out, but Atmortan seemed to stop and paused at the Nachima before it, and the Nachima stared back. Having only been given life just a few moments ago it stared into the mass that was eyes and limbs glaring back at it, "Hel-" It was about to speak before the Grand Architect cut it off. "Sinsal, there are things that may happen, that you will not fully understand, and you must adapt to those circumstances." Sinsal stared in silence at the Grand Architect contemplating the words of the ancient being before the newborn. "Welcome to Morfea, I am Grand Architect Atmortan." but unlike the others Atmortan Marked Sinsals Chest, with what looked like a star before moving to the next frame.

Late Fall 5420

The heavy footsteps of three Nachima echoed in the halls, one with a red cloak behind him, two circles glowed from where his face would be and a non moving silt not two inches beneath them. He had been made to look most like the Ven'Plendari of the old, however it is only merely a slight imitation of them for the nations beyond the Nachima to feel more at ease. No combat limbs, but with apparel that would be considered prestigious to some of repute. Those Flanking his sides were much more plain in their aesthetic, their face is smooth metal, their bodies more function than form, the left limb a crossbow, their right, a simple hand. They had no apparel unlike the one before them only paint and emblems signifying their rank and specialties, a blade to their side they silently followed their brother down the hallway to the large adamantine doors of the council's seat.

The hallway was empty, the floor, walls and ceiling were metal, no guards were present as there was no need for guards this far within the Nachima Captial of Suthrus. As the three Nachima approached the door it opened seemingly automatically without anyone around to the presence of the three. Walking inside the three were met with the Council of Archons, they had only the end of an argument before the Archons stopped and look down upon the three from uptop their pedestals.

Spoiler: The Archons

High Archon Arosha's form was dominated by a black alloy admantine shell, forged onto her after decades or centuries of life and experience, one could say she had the frame of a female humanoid, the imitation of gender that was common with the Nachima. Her face was dominated by three glowing ports resembling eyes, the head is smooth from the front and as it goes to the back there are curves following three large cables that resembled hair, however the cables were connected to something above that was unseen. Making her look much larger than she actually was, the body frame itself was rather thin and slender, with the metal being smooth and rather shiny for appearing black.

Archon Nasses' form was practically the opposite of Arosha's, Bright Adamantine mixed with lines of the bright blue of mithril, she had by far the most facial features out of the five council members, as well as a head full of long while hair that was on closer inspection thin tendrils of a flexible material. Her mouth was actually functioning and her eyes rotated like they would a Ven'Plendari with pupils and a blue iris, rare implements for most Nachima. The body was much bulkier than Arosha, less sleek and more round with more natural angles and curves, and unlike Arosha she had various garments and clothes on her, a white cape lined with gold, with similar robes matching the cape.

Archon Cornash's Appearance is more form over function, bulky in the sense that his skin was much thicker, and smoother to make his body much harder to grapple with few unnecessary ornamental parts. The face is smooth with no features, but his body had many markings of insignia to signify his rank the material he was made was also that of a adamantine however it was much more dull'ed in color, faint scratch marks can be seen all over his body, enough to be mildly noticeable if one were to take a close look but not enough to warrant a repair.

Archon Inon had the least customized look out of the five, he had a single glowing slit of light going down his rather standard head, his body resembled that of your average Nachimidian frame save for the much more rare materials put into him, adamantine, un-customized.

Archon Erathis was Similar to Arosha's appearance, sleek, slender, black adamantine but no facial features, except for a extension growing into the back like a bladed horn. The head was elongated, and the body was made with sharp angles made to look aerodynamic, as her body was built for speed. She had various red insignia with red tinted mithral alloy lines going through her body, though overall much less pronounced than the blue of Archon Nasses'. There were several bladed and sharp extensions all around her body, potential weapons spread throughout.

As the three walked into the center of the amphitheater-like Council hall they kneeled before the archons head down, right hand to the ground and left arm to the side. "Ambassador Sinsal," Sinsal stood back up, there was a short pause as the high Archon spoke before she addressed the bodyguards. "Nurnuth, Sannash." The bodyguards flanking Sinsal stood up as their names were said. "You have been summoned here to establish a diplomatic connection to the Kingdom of Kyvernitaas. We have ignored our neighbors for far too long, though the imperium has fallen, they are still the descendants of those that created us. Because of our previous negligence and sole drive to fight those of the north it has allowed a necropolis to claim land right at our borders to the west." The other Archons were silent, but faced Arosha as she spoke, occasionally looking down at the subjects of the high Archons plans. "You Sinsal are tasked with cooperating with the Kyvernitaans, establish trade, make sure they view us in a positive light."

Sinsal simply looked up at the High Archon, as still as a statue taking in the orders wondering how he will approach the Kyvernitaans, Nachima information on the Kingdom was sparse. "But most importantly the main purpose of your mission in the kingdom is to collaborate with the Kyvernitaan military to plan a joint strike on the Necropolis of Ainar. Though there may be no doubt we can purge the undead of the region it may weaken our northern borders too much for a single military incursion, and there is no doubt the Kyvernitaans will be unnecessarily wary if we were to do so. As such a joint strike will also strengthen our relations with them." Sinsal nodded to the High Archon. "I will carry out my tasks, however, i question the effectiveness of their military against such a foe." The High Archon stood still, unphased at the question was it was rather reasonable. "Their weapons are simple yes, but do not under estimate simplicity in numbers, we can share plans on how to approach the necropolis to use both our strengths to an effective degree."

Sinsal place his left hand on his chest and lowered his head toward her followed by a very slight bow. "I apologize for questioning" Arosha put her palm up, "there is no need to, now go. After Ainar is dealt with we may continue to need their assistance with Gunar" With that Sinsal and his companions turned around and walked out of the Council hall, conversing with themselves with how to get to Kyvernitaas and their plan to reach with the king of the land.

Early Winter 5420

Sinsal had procured one of the metal ships of the growing Nachima navy, though still at its infancy the ships were extremely slow but they had the advantage of weapons, however those weapons wont be of much use for this mission. The sea was rather dull for the Nachima marines, Sinsal and his two bodyguards walked about the ship to pass the time. The lslands of Aramente were distant, but much more aesthetically pleasing with many colors than the frozen ridges of the north and mountain peaks that the three were used to. Their destination for this mission was to go to the Kyvernitaan port city of Sahsun and from there hopefully get directions or become escorted to their capital

Am Vya

 

[Crumbli]

Winter 5420, Pale Sand settlement, Off the coasts of Enchanted Vacapenidinia, Luminion
​

A burning sun's rays are broken by the still waters overhead in the small township of Pale Sand. Splashes of colour, red, blue, purple, and green bring a sense of life to the stark white structures that are scattered strategically along the golden hillsides of the shallow coasts. In this alien yet modest township, the Malkid continue their business as though today were any other. Fishing, gardening, and playful sports are the common forms of chores that many choose to fill their time with. Some prefer the terrestrial air upon their skin, and lounge on the beach above just beyond the reach of the waves on beds of wet sand and drift wood. Until recently the inhabitants of Pale Sand had known a very different life. Many were eager to forget their past and appeared to do so with success. That is until unusual occurrences forced the memories of their past to resurface.

A young male with skin as dark as a fading shadow propels himself through the arched and circular openings of many of the structures in the village, kicking up sand and drawing the gaze of the inhabitants who resided within. In annoyance, those who had been disturbed came to the panicked male with violent gestures and motions in their hands. The male did not care. He reached out his tendrils and made strange shapes with his fingers. The hands of the village folk are stayed and the calm of the water returns, though the atmosphere of moments prior had been swept away.
He moves his hands again, tendrils dragging into the sand beneath him and writing their native script. "The eaters of children, shelled beasts, hunters of the depths, darkness chases us. Cower, hide, flee, die!" He goes to move again but feels his tendrils grasped by the others of his village. They make hand gestures to ask where he saw these beasts, how many there were, and if they truly were beasts of the darkness. He succumbs to his panic and begins thrashing incomprehensibly before being let go. The largest of the Malkid present look to one another and begin carving up the sand below them. "He is scared, fearful of the dark. Hide the women and the newborn."
"Defend our homes."
"The light illuminates. The surface is safe."

The conversation between the Malkid eventually comes to a halt as the figures disperse from the area in agreement with what must be done. They go about rallying up all of the townsfolk and moving them to designated hiding spots around the village and beyond. Small gaps in underwater rock formations, crude basements, and even above ground 'integration ponds' are all quickly filled and hidden away. Those that choose to stay outside do what they can to conceal the shelters of their friends and family. By the time the hulking crustaceans arrive to the township of Pale Sand there is no one in sight.
DapperKnight

Winter 5420, Royal Palace, Galaria, 2nd Galarian Republic​

Within the Luminion's designated ambassadorial chamber of the royal palace, How'eu sits upright on the only arm chair inside the fairly large room. Much like the personal guards standing either side of the door, or the immediate family that lounge around on the recliners taking small naps or passing the time with idle reading, it wasn't native to these lands. How'eu found that by bringing in what little he could in terms of a piece of furniture or his beloved would make his stay in this foreign place all the more bearable. With a sigh he surveys the room and slowly rises from his chair looking at one of the gold veined marble pillars that stood off center from the middle of the room.
In a stroke of coincidence the doors are flung open at the exact moment he happened to rise and his eyes are drawn now to the sudden intruder who is halted by the personal guard and their large spears. It takes a short moment for him to recognise the intruder but once he had, How'eu waves his hand and gestures for the guards to raise their weapons. They do so without hesitation and return to their posts either side of the door.

How'eu takes a deep breath, composing himself before the conversation he was inevitably going to be forced to endure. Many of the races of the world adored their talk and while ambassadors were among the most talkative of Skorosi it remained a laboured effort to keep up with others. With a hand to his stomach he offers a polite semi bow and begins to speak, "You have come to summon me, sir? I pray it is of the utmost importance. Shall you lead me to they who summon me or shall here suffice?"
Royalblue127

 

[Shireling]

Hohenholn, Winter 5420
​

As described, the Midwinter Festival stretched on into the night. When the Drachen travelers had been made comfortable in their rooms, they were allowed the walk of the gardens and most of the house. Naturally, Harrison's guards never strayed far from him, although Rosa did lead him on a tour of the grounds, the gardens, the small private chapel, and so forth. They ended the evening on the manor's wide front balcony. From there they could see the peasants, tired of dancing around the fire, sitting out on tables set up on the square. A priest in black robes with a white and orange alb said some kind of incantation over the meal, then led in the singing of a short hymn, afterwards they all dug into their communal meal. Despite the biting cold, the square was still warmed by the fires.

Rosa frowned in Harrison's direction, but quickly exchanged it for a more neutral countenance. "So where do you suppose you'll go next, Prince Harrison?"

Selee-01

The Battle of Tublika, Winter 5420
​

Burnt to a crisp and falling by the dozen to Bellator's sword, the undead on the bridge began to press against one another in order to retreat. In the process, many fell on the spears of the back ranks and impaled themselves, further tangling the melee. Bellator, with wide sweeps of his enchanted blade, alongside his men laid them all to ruin in a matter of thirty minutes. The force of undead soldiers, seeing the bridge was lost, attempted first to aid the defense, but when the ships' flamethrowers were turned on them as well, they fell to a disorganized retreat in part while some sacrificial skeletons covered their withdrawal. All in all, they had slain twelve thousand of the undead in less than an hour, a truly impressive feat owing mostly to the highly effective flamethrowers and the dense formations of the undead troops. The legions were greeted with a burst of warm air as they secured the temple grounds and prepared to hold against the remaining undead on the far side of the river. Sure enough, they began a desperate charge to take the temple, sensing that they could not win so long as the fire within burned, and right they were. Their full strength fell all at once upon the temple courtyard, with the Legionaries holding a comfortable choke-point at the foot of the high temple mount.

Meanwhile, across the river, the enemy's full attack was melting as their dock ladders being flung away left their best melee fighters stranded on the wall. The Tulian soldiers, many trained veterans, drove them off the bulwarks and down to the ground below. In the gate, the undead had been defeated to the last man after two hours of fighting. By the third hour, the snow was beginning to drive harder and the undead retreated back to their camps, everything but the banners obscured in the growing darkness.

Royalblue127

 

[Am Vya]

Deep in The Undercity, Ahrolsethur

Archmagister Irakli paced back and forth, awaiting the arrival of the final men. For years he had studied and prepared for this, and at last the time had come. Vasilos Avtandil had granted him permission to launch a large scale expedition into the Emerald Keep and whatever lay past it, to gather much knowledge as possible and acquire something deep below that the Lightborn showed the Vasilos via a series of visions a few months prior. Coin had been amassed and dozens of soldiers, explorers, mappers, and magisters had been recruited alike for this mission. It would be the single largest undertaking by the nation yet seen within its own territory, to a place so close to home yet so mysterious.

As the minutes ticked by Irakli grew impatient and stormed over to Thareal Dal'Rhalas, head of the military component guarding the explorers. "Is everyone here yet? We haven't all day to begin this expedition and the longer we dally the longer we are without any information on what the Lightborn wish for us to discover."

"Fear not Archmagister, they will be here within the hour, it's not exactly the most simple task to bring supplies through the Undercity to this ruined keep, much less enough to supply a hundred men for weeks and then those who are supplying us." Thareal let out a sigh. "I'm sure that we will be able to get within the ruins before days end."

"By the Lightborn we had better, I will prepare the other magisters and explorers then. We will begin this expedition within the hour whether or not the rest of the supplymen arrive." He turned and made his way to where the other members of the expedition had gathered and notified them on the start time, and they waited.

As the time ticked away the last of the supplymen arrived and as the clocks struck 4pm everyone gathered at the base of the keep. The Archmagister and Commander stood atop a pile of crates and stones, with Irakli speaking first. "The time has come my fellow explorers, after months if not years of preparations, we shall begin the largest exploration of the regions under our capital since the founding of the Undercity. We do not know what dangers or boons lay ahead of us, how big the Emerald Keep is, or what lays behind it, but this will not deter us. We are over a hundred men strong, and have all been trained in our respective paths to the utmost skill. The main goal of this expedition is to gather information on these ruins, retrieve artifacts, study architecture, and overall grow to understand this place and its builders. Our only knowledge is that this place is either as old as the Drostilyra, or even possibly predates them, we are not certain. Seeing as we know so little it is vital that we all stay connected, there will likely be a point when our large group will split off into smaller groups to explore, but for our safety, we shall not split into any groups less than four people unless it is vital. In the parts of the keep we marked explored we will put manned supply depots and establish guard patrols, as to prevent anyone from getting lost and always having a route back. But now onto the last piece of information, not only are we exploring for this material knowledge but for something much more important as well, the Lightborn have shown us something immensely powerful resides deep within the keep, something that may help us find the ancient Drostilyran capital or grant us greater arcane ability we know not for certain but nonetheless we will find it. Now, onward, we have a ruin to explore!"

As the archmagister finished his speech he turned and motioned to the gates of the Keep, and the expedition began. Explorers, arcanists, and guards funneled into the ruin and down the first main hall, a grand hall with ancient arches, giant roots and moss having overtaken the stones of old. The floor had been overtaken with grasses as waterfalls and creeks forced their way through the ancient building, adding to its reasoning for being called the Emerald Keep. The arches were dotted with letters of an ancient unknown language, with the room warming up in a golden tinge as the explorers pass with torch and lantern. There were those that chose to stay and examine the first hall, but the primary group would descend further down into the unknown, determined to succeed and uncover every secret of this place.

The Port City of Sahsun

The great port city of Sahsun bustled with life, merchants and horses alike pulled carts down the streets, fishers brought in their catch, laborers were hard at work building new ships for the Kyvernitaan Merchant fleets, every part of the city breathed with activity, even the dark ally's or the slums by which the less fortunate gambled and conducted their own business. This day however would be different from others, Sahsun had unusual visitors, men of metal in ships of steel, crowds gathered at the docks as these foreigners began to arrive, curious of these mysterious folk. As the ship laid anchor and arrived within the docks a group of city guardsmen and the local captain made their way to the strange ship, additional guards being called upon to keep the observing townsfolk a safe distance away. As the final ropes were tied onto the dock the captain approached the ship and its exiting crewmen, flanked with members of the guard, equipped with gleaming spears and helms, their mail armor adorned with crimson capes.

The captain gave a slight bow, introducing himself to these strangers. "My name is Narazul Dal'Undras, Captain of the Sahsun Guard, might I inquire on what your purpose in our wonderful city is and from where you come Mysir?"
Petroshka​

 

[Selee-01]

Hohenholn, Winter 5420
​

As described, the Midwinter Festival stretched on into the night. When the Drachen travelers had been made comfortable in their rooms, they were allowed the walk of the gardens and most of the house. Naturally, Harrison's guards never strayed far from him, although Rosa did lead him on a tour of the grounds, the gardens, the small private chapel, and so forth. They ended the evening on the manor's wide front balcony. From there they could see the peasants, tired of dancing around the fire, sitting out on tables set up on the square. A priest in black robes with a white and orange alb said some kind of incantation over the meal, then led in the singing of a short hymn, afterwards they all dug into their communal meal. Despite the biting cold, the square was still warmed by the fires.

Rosa frowned in Harrison's direction, but quickly exchanged it for a more neutral countenance. "So where do you suppose you'll go next, Prince Harrison?"

@Selee-01

The Prince gazed into the fire.

“Home. My father is an old man. I’ll need to bear news to him, especially if your father finds anything on my Uncle Myos.” Harrison sighed. “My siblings are probably squabbling even now. I have a Throne to inherit. After that’s all said and done, I’ll send a relative or three north against the Undead.”

He smiled.

“It’s what needs to be done. I’ll be sure to visit here again. It’s nice here. No familial drama.”

 

[DapperKnight]

Winter 5420, First Encounter with Unknown Settlement

200 years, 200 hundred years in the shallows and only now the Confederacy had sent out a party to contact the drowners. A generation had been dedicated to the civil war, and a generation had been wasted fighting each other instead of growing and expanding. Now they were stuck within the central sea, unable to escape into the open ocean due to the battle lines, while the rebels are able to add other Casts from the homelands into their ranks with evidence of easy food and plentiful hunting grounds within the shallows. They used safe migration routes to bring in many Malacs from the homeland, only to send them into the meat grinder immediately after.

Now this would be the second official contact the Malacs will have with a talking, breathing being. The Coneheads were less then friendly to Ovry's scouts, so any chance of a quick alliance were dashed and had only made the Elder believe that this expedition will bring nothing but unwanted hostility to the Confederacy from the drowners. But perhaps, these new strangers, proper water breathing folk it would seem, would be more hospitable.

Upon reaching the town, the Elder King, 3 Elder Guards, two dozen Linemen and a half dozen Trench Craw riders were met with the strangest sight. The Malac eyes are more accustom to the darkness and dim lighting, but it didn't take advanced sight for the Malacs to recognize that something was off. There was no one there to see, not a soul in sight. No sign of a struggle, no mention from the scouts of a mass exodus. It was the most foreboding thing a Malac can come across. In the homeland there are tales of entire Casts going missing, usually due to a migration of great predators such as Depth Sharks.

It brought on a bought of uncertainty within the scouting party's ranks as there were grumblings that they should head back. However King Ovry wasn't going to let this anomaly frighten him off. The Confederacy was depending on the Vanli Cast to bring back allies, no matter the cost. He turns to his Elders. "Usi, Lestiam, Ugwi, listen and listen well. We search the settlement, for dead or alive. If alive, then we can perhaps find the reason for the disappearances, if dead, then we hunt down the reason they're dead. Usi, you shall take 6 and search to the left. Lestiamm, take 6 and search right. Ugwi, take 6 and the riders to form a perimeter around the settlement. The rest shall move with me." He orders, the Elders nod in acknowledgement and split the Linemen into 4 equal squads, each taking a squad for themselves with the most veteran squad going to the King, as is expected.

Usi, the middle of the three, took his squad into the left section of the town, Lestiam, the youngest, to the right, and Ugwi, the oldest, had the riders chase away any large beasts, whales and dolphins mostly, while her squad patrolled the outskirts. King Ovry took his squad deep into the center of the town. It didn't take long for the Malacs to find that their hulking bodies were too large to enter the smaller doorways of the settlement. It was pain to get a Linemen through, and impossible to get an Elder inside. They were not able to search inside of the houses, but it didn't mean that they weren't able to look inside. There were signs that they previous occupants had left in quite a hurry. Food left uneaten, and tools left out in the open were the biggest evidence of it. The Malacs' heads were on a swivel as they scoured the town, still unable to find any evidence of why the townsfolk had disappeared.

Crumbli

 

[Shireling]

Near Nai'eria, Winter 5420
​

The Nai'erian forced wandered through a temperate rainforest for quite some time after leaving their base-camp. At least several days were spent on the march, with no sign of Neaeru or of any other living creature larger than a rodent. They made camp under the large fronds of great deciduous trees taller than most of the buildings of Ra'Kelli, and dined on their rations and assorted rabbit-like rodents they could catch. Once or twice, a herd o Heort tumbled by in the forest, but too quickly for any of the soldiers to bag one. By the fifth day, it was starting to become unclear whether this area was even still inhabited.

Then they broke out into a small clearing. There was a ruined house off to one side, and the remnants of a dirt road that led to nowhere. This left the soldiers somewhat spooked, not expecting any trace of civilization out this far from any declared nation. The house was obviously a work of human hands, as was the road. They looked to their captain for guidance.

Eshspoyeofdoom

Off the Coast of Ainar, Winter 5420
​

"A special mission," Captain Teodoro Salvicci grumbled through clenched lips as the spray of cold northern ocean whipped up along the hull of the HMS Quicksilver. "Special mission my—"

"Captain!" Reported a swain, "Black colors off the starboard bow!"

Teo took out his spyglass and looked in the direction the sailor had indicated. Sure enough, rising over the crest of a wave was a Black Ship, a three-masted warship covered in pitch and ichor, black sails and black colors, making its way in rough seas—laden down with the loot of a Solicazian treasure ship.

"Bosuns to stations! I want point-of-sail shifted four degrees, and open up those mainsails! Let's get some wind here!" He ordered. "Oarsmen! Double-speed!" As men went to relay the order below decks, the oars that had been, up to this point, hidden, emerged from belowdecks and began to, in unision, slap the water with intense regularity. Under power of oar and sail, the Solicazian ship was gaining on their quarry with remarkable rapidity. The seas were beginning to roughen, and thunder crackled overhead.

Ainar, Near the Border with Kyvernitaas
​

The Ainarian necromancers were not fools. Their spy networks and common sense had told them that the Kyvernitaas had been uniting for a bloody purpose. The fortresses they had built on the border were only the most obvious sign of their unwillingness to coexist. It was a pity. The Kyvernitaan navy had been so ineffectual at stopping the slave trade that they never even needed to raid the countryside for slaves except perhaps once in a blue moon. What they had not expected was the Nachima to make some sort of confederation with them. That had them worried. Late in the evening before the Kyvernitaas and Nachima truly mobilized for war, Dreadlord Ainar, the necromancer who had founded this necropolis hundreds of years ago, met with his inner circle of dreadwights and other fellow necromancers. The Guradian glanced this way and that with his eyeless face guided by a magical inner sight.

"My confederates," he began, "the tides of history are, once again, against us. I wish to rejoin my brothers in the Halls of Illthak, but before I do, I must take on an ascendant form. This robust yet mortal coil no longer suits my needs. I need, innocent blood. And lots of it, if I am to complete my horocrux," the eyeless thing held up a lantern in an iron frame. It was unlit.

"When the ritual is complete, I will smuggle my soul away onboard one of my ships, and reform in the east."

"But, Dark Master," one of the dreadwights bowed and scraped, "what about us?"

"What about you?" Ainar asked, with a biting and sardonic tone.

"Your lordship, I have served you for..."

"And your service has run its course. You will serve me by dying the second death to the Kyvernitaan dogs. Pick yourself up, Inkar. You who died upon the blade should not be frightened to repeat your performance."

"Your lordship, I..."

"Silence! Bring me that blood!!!"

In the slave pits below the depths of the black towers of Ainar, there was screaming and weeping that night. Advance scouts and those atop the walls of the tallest Kyvernitaan fortresses would attest they saw a burst of light in the eastern sky, and then a pillar of black smoke.

Am Vya Petroshka

​

 

[Tetro]

First Expansion, Winter 5420

Before Elijah and Nora left their home, Lylth supplied their caravan with several more carts loaded with tools and equipment for erecting checkpoints during their travels. Without Nora's knowledge, knowing she would disapprove, her siblings hid the parts needed to construct several of Elijah's 'crossbows'. While it would slow down the journey East, it would hopefully allow the traveling beast horde to head across the river first, keeping Nora and Elijah out of danger. If things went well, the weapons could be used as gifts. If not, they would provide adequate levels of protection in case the caravan was attacked. Before the oligarchs could establish an empire, they needed to present themselves and their nation to the world as civilized. They felt the best place to start, was with roads.

Days passed before the diplomats finally made it to the bottom of their mountain. Tall, thick, metal archways had been erected every five thousand feet, acting as physical claims to the land and the mountain. The cold did little to slow the journey, and soon enough the two young oligarchs were passing through one of the abandoned settlements where their slaves used to reside.

Nora sat inside her metal carriage with Elijah, looking through the window at the frosty landscape before her. "Do you think the beasts will come to our home?" The idea of such a large horde of creatures filled her with more awe than fear. Elijah, on the other hand, relished the prospect of obtaining new creatures. Especially ones accustomed to warfare. "Well," he began, "we aren't hiding from anyone. And since we are heading in the same direction as them, I don't doubt we'll inevitably encounter them. If I were them, I'd be very interested in finding out what a city is doing on the side of a volcano."

Nora nodded in agreement, never taking her eyes away from the view before her. What would she even say to them if they met?
Soviet Panda

 

[Royalblue127]

The Battle of Tublika
​

The hours after the battle had ended were filled with the sound of hammers on metal, and low chanting emanating from the Temple of Halaria. Priests moved the injured from tents surrounding the temple, and within the last rites of the dead were preformed, and the first legionary in centuries was interred into the flame of Halaria. Ash floated upward, and spread outward as the wind blew south, towards their far away home. Riders circled in the air, watching the dead camps, ready to alert the city if any movement was seen.

Within the city, Felix Coriarus stood by Ragnar, and surveyed the end of a line of barrels being brought into a warehouse by the gate. From the other side, satchels that bulged oddly were stacked carefully on a pile of hay, the smell of oil and fire filling the air. Felix turned to his second, a female rider with larger derevs than him, pacing impatiently as she watched the satchels pile up. "Still no movement from the camp Daria?" he asked, causing her to look at him.

"No sir, nothing from the other riders or any of the guards on the wall. Will we be beginning the bombing run soon sir?" Daria seemed almost too eager, her eyes glinting with barley contained joy at the thought of burning the tortured souls across the field. Felix eyed her warily, then turned to Ragnar and tightened his saddle, stepping into it and motioning to one of the nearby pages.

"There are enough of the Dragon-fire orbs to begin, signal the others Daria." His voice carried across the square, and as Daria quickly lifted a horn to her lips, two satchels were brought for each of the riders there, attached to the sides of the eagles. A single, low note filled the air, and soon the rest of the Legions Riders returned from the sky, and were similarly burdened. Felix placed his helm on his head, and took the torch from his personal attendant. "Riders, remember where you were directed to launch the orbs. Set fire to your satchel, and release. Dive fast, and return." With a cursory glance around, he nudged Ragnar, who spread his wings, and launched himself into the sky.

Behind him, 19 other eagles took off, and those below watched as their torches bobbed in the sky, before becoming streaks of light as for each torch two flaming masses fell onto the enemy encampment. The defenders cheered, as explosions of fire were seen across the camp, and the enemy's fortifications began to smoke.

Shireling

 

[Soviet Panda]

The horde of Buras Ur'ull was a mass of writhing bodies that trampled the earth and created new dirt paths by it's size alone. There was no order or sense of control, in fact it seemed more likely that several warbands had merely been moving in the same direction. For if an aerial observer had been looking (something ill advised due to the flock of hrermus circling over head), they would note that the horde splintered apart and formed together again. Over and over again, as a warmonger thinks they spot a foe and go to destroy them.

One warmonger, a Hrermus by the name of Abrecan, whose iron teeth glinted wetly in the light of day, that spotted what was assumed easy pickings. With a screech he rallied his warband of the Brecda Bord, a force of some 1300 assorted Deoram, and veered off towards the target. To him, it was merely several great wing beats away. But he knew better than to assume his groundling force could cover the same amount of ground as quickly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Abandoned settlement, Winter of 5420 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Omoron group could quiet clearly make out the black silhouette of several hundred bat like figures that circled overhead. But they did not dive down to attack. Oh no, they were waiting for something. But what? That question was soon answered as first one Hridir, then another, and more still, began pouring out of the treeline. Their cloven feet dug into the ground and tossed tufts of grass and dirt behind them. And judging by their raised weapons and animalistic shouts, they had no intention of slowing down to talk things out.

Spoiler: Deoram Forces

230 Hrermus
580 Hridir
370 Raet
150 Stedonare

 

[Tetro]

Abandoned Settlement, Winter 5420

The caravan stopped suddenly, causing Nora to come out of her own head. She got a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach when she heard one of the guards outside calling for Elijah. She looked at her brother with mild concern, "what's going on?" He knew he couldn't lie to her, so he settled with not answering her question. "Stay in here. and cover the window." Before she could respond he was already outside, closing the door behind him. The four Anak guarding the caravan had already begun setting up four massive metal crossbows on three-legged stands. The fifth guard, who had been driving the main carriage, was setting up his own on top of said carriage. As soon as they saw the winged beasts in the distance, they knew they had only minutes to prepare.

"Elijah, there are hundreds, how are we supposed to fight them?" One of the men asked.

"We abandon the engines and charge towards the trees, then our aerial assailants will have a harder time getting to us. I'd rather fight our opponents on foot, surrounded, then have to worry about being attacked from above."

Soon enough, right as they had loaded and prepared their weapons, the beasts were above them. To their surprise, they weren't swarming down on the group. The five guards didn't break their aim away from the trees, trusting Elijah to command them appropriately. The beasts that pulled the chariots and carts were uneasy, turning their heads from side to side trying to see the enemies they could hear. "As soon as you see anything come out of those trees, I want you to fire as many bolts as you can."

The shouting of the beastmen filled the Anak with excitement. It had been hundreds of years since their last actual battle. When the first Hridir showed himself, then the second, then the third, and so on, the Omorans all took a second to really look at them. Their excitement, their thrill for blood and battle, was replaced with... amusement. A couple of them even started laughing at the sight of these little furry beasts charging at them. The first five Hridir were immediately pierced by long, thick, metal bolts. With any unlucky souls behind them also being torn partially apart by the bolts. In a few seconds, a second volley was fired, then a third. It was like clock-work. Pull, place, aim, fire, and repeat.

 

[Soviet Panda]

The loose formation of the Hridir kept collateral damage to a minimum, though the blood and gore of their kin seemed to do little more than excite them. The Hrermus seized on this opportunity as well, while their foes were focusing their fire upon the trees and quickly advancing Hridir, they neglected, and perhaps even underestimated, their aerial adversaries. Within moments of the second volley being fired, the first Hrermus impacted the Anak guards. Though a third of the height of an Omoran, the momentum they carried was more than enough to knock them off of their mounted crossbows. Those that held on, even if by a hand, were blinded by leathery wings and deafened by shrill cries and talons shrieking off of their armor.

Even as the Hrermus attacked, the rest of the Deoram warband was advancing. Soon the Stedonare broke the treeline, and no longer having to contend with the underbrush, took off across the open ground, their glaive like weapons pointed at their foes as they bellowed a wordless challenge. The more fool hardy and idiotic Raet were among the Hridir throng, but a majority were spreading out, flanking wide to encircle the enemy. Grey furred and cloaked Raet gestured to each other, coordinating their ambush and locating weak points in their enemy. And still the Deoram advanced.

Abrecan crashed down atop an Anak guard, his tremendous size (when compared to other Hrermus) greatly weighing down even the giant warrior. The Anak briefly saw a maw filled with teeth of metal opening preposterously wide before the world went dark. Abrecan's maw wrapped itself around the helmeted head of the Anak, his thick hide and armor warding off the hands that frantically sought to rip him off. The warmonger's teeth easily penetrated the helm, but that feat paled in comparison to what was happening to the helm. Slowly it was being crushed by the maw of this warmonger, whose eyes shined with an animalistic glee as his prey's cranium was slowly being crushed. And with a wet and sickening crunch, the helmet finally gave in. Abrecan greedily lapped at the blood of the fallen enemy, tasting this new foe, before once more taking to the skies to lock onto his next victim.

 

[Elucid]

​

Cantor Deodatus struck a strange figure, perched as he was on that veranda floor, a mound of pigeon feed; seeds, berries, tiny crumbs of fruit arranged in a neat pile beside him. It seemed almost a ritual, inherited perhaps from the pagan ways of old. Every once in a while one of the little beasts would take the bait, eyeing the cupped palm with caution before picking out the choicest looking morsel. As if on command, the bearded priest would then with his free hand, attempt to trace that abominable itch caused by the roughspun tunic of his newly adopted order. In the distance, the novices huddled together in quiet fascination, like little children that had been graced by the sight of a Bruttian knight atop the gallant Hippogriff. Although they were not so bold as to cast aspersions upon the man in person, he was not oblivious to the fact that rumors spread quickly in a priory. Deodatus for his part made no effort to clear his name, to explain his strange fall from grace. As far as he was concerned, these men were owed no explanation.

Besides, this exile had quickly turned out to be a blessing disguise, Deodatus had grown tired of the circling vultures at the Bailleul court, tired of the scheming eunuchs, nubile temptresses and the ever bashful petty-lords. Here he could be at peace, protected from the smoldering heat of the desert sun by the sturdy Bruttian walls of the priory, gilded with Arabyan frescoes. Here perhaps at long last, could he finish the work once started, a worthy magnum opus for one of his stature. Deodatus had brought all the records he could carry from his quarters back at Bal'harm, but there were necessarily things that needed to be left behind. To his utmost surprise the priory's library was quite helpful in filling out the pieces of missing information, indeed some of the works preserved there were to be found in their original Araby, a testament to the good sense of the preceding prioress.

As Deodatus entered his rather claustrophobic quarters, with furniture restricted to a creaky bed, wooden table and chair, complete with a bronze chamber pot, he was reminded of the lush palace grounds, its marbled fountains and ethereal harpists. Thoughts which he quickly brushed away, the work ahead was too important to recall such past fantasies. On the table under candlelight lay leaves of the finest parchment, the topmost decorated in the most extravagant of styles, reserved only perhaps for the books of revelation. In the center of it all was the unfinished title, which after a few strokes of ink remained unfinished no more. It read, in the regal tongue of the natives as Şehzade, which in Magesteri would perhaps be translated best as The Prince.

The first I'd made the acquaintance of the then Emir, Roger III d’al Bailleul was surprisingly on the field of battle. Brothers Daniele, Humilis and I had been sent by the Temple at Montfleot to administer last rights to the soldiery before the event of battle. Lord Roger had been campaigning in the Peola through summer, taking the important fortress of Bolbec and sacking the town of Ecuquetot. Both had required a substantial garrison to remain in Bailleul hands, which naturally reduced the number of men the Emir could put out on the field, especially if he wished to continue his campaign of razzia , also known as a promenade, a form of battle made popular by the Lord's father whereby an invading army would sojourn in enemy territory burning and pillaging the land, reducing the productivity and thereby weakening the enemy.

Unfortunately for Lord Roger, it was during one of these razzias that a Quarrelian army numbering in the thousands appeared over the horizon. Having decided to retreat the Emir ordered his men to cross a large bog beyond which there existed a mountain formation that could provide a great defensive ridge from which to fight the numerically superior force. The Quarellians, lead by a certain Hugh d'al Vere took full advantage of the situation, a contingent of Bruttian Knights descended on the scampering infantry, killing many and causing much chaos before Bailleul knights were able to scatter the attacking force. The beleaguered army limped their way to favorable ground for battle, but morale had certainly taken a hit and the men were immensely tired. Some suggest that it was a tactical choice for the Lord Roger to ask for parley at this point and seek the right of last rites for his army, that it was not motivated by any deep sense of piety. This could not be further from the truth, for the Emir and the Bailleul themselves have perhaps been the most generous supporters of the barding religion in the peninsula, indeed they have often been the defenders of the faith against the forces of the barbaric heathen.

It should also be noted that this Hugh d'al Vere, was at a later stage implicated in a conspiracy against the infant Duke Pierre d'al Quarrelis and placed in the latter's dungeons where he remains to this day as far as this author is aware. It was at about this point that we were required to perform our duties as men of the cloth and provide these men with their last blessings. And as we dressed in our finest vestments preparing to make the procession down the ranks, we were joined by the Lord Roger atop his mighty Hippogriff. Upon passing each battalion we would make the sign of Morfus as they bowed at our heels. Until of course we reached the Araby among the army's number, they had their own traditions of worship, and yet they bowed. Although one suspects it had more to do with the presence of their Emir than with ours.

The work having been done, the Lord Roger instructed us to return to our tents and pray for victory. But having seen the way in which this dark skinned Bruttian, with the loosely cropped hair and large frame had conducted himself thus far, I had no doubt as to who would be the victor.

 

[Tetro]

Elijah and the Anak guards were prepared for the overwhelming numbers that were rushing towards them, even from those that came from above. What they weren't prepared for, was the sound of metal on metal impact behind them. They broke their focus just long enough to see Nora had detached the main carriage from the rest of the caravan and clambered her way to the driver's seat. "Nora! Don't!" But before Elijah could stop her, the Deoram horde was upon him and his kin.

The attacks of the beasts were enough to get the Anak by surprise and leave one of them open to an attack by Abrecan. While the Anak could have easily torn the bat in two, the overwhelming numbers kept his arms and legs busy. After losing one of their comrades, the others were cleansed of whatever confusion it was that had overtaken them. Composing themselves, the Anak and Elijah threw off their assailants with ease, revealing their titanic strength to the beasts. While Abrecan took back to the sky, he would find a massive adamant alloy chain net envelop him, sending him crashing back down to the ground, crushing any Deoram he might have fallen on. Elijah, standing atop one of the carts, left his newly caught prey to assist his underlings. He threw Adamant swords and shields to his comrades, wielding his own set quickly before joining the fight.

While Nora rode off in the direction of the mountain, charging through the horde and crushing any in the path of the large beasts, the small group let out their own warcries. Even well-placed blows against the unarmored Elijah proved to do little more than aggravate him. The Raet would find the only weak points on the Omorans to be their eyes, which none could reach before being smashed aside by the giants. The Raet were ants, the Hrermus were flies, and the rest were simple lapdogs knawing pathetically on the legs and thighs of the Omorans. Abrecan could do nothing but watch these five Omorans slowly make their way towards him, swinging their swords to cut multiple foes apart at once like butter.

 

[Selee-01]

The Dragonkeep, Winter 5420

Princess Emma perched upon one of the titanic domes of the Dragonkeep, silver eyes scanning the sky. Red Archibald was chasing Harold, as Myos soared in the distance. Her husband was hunting in the Dragonwoods around the Keep, occasionally exhaling sooty flames. Emma leapt off the dome, and went into a glide towards the vast courtyard below.

The Dragonkeep was built for dragons, enormous halls and chambers big enough to hold forty. It was more luxurious than the Obsidian Palace, but it was colder. Ornate, baroque art covered every inch of the walls and ceiling, concealed vents drawing out the smoke. The grounds were defended by a forty-foot wall, enclosing the Dragonwoods. Beyond, Silktown sprawled in the shadow of the Keep. It took a city to maintain the monumental edifice, and there was great opportunity for advancement.

Emma swooped upwards, and released a twisting pillar of flame. She was hungry.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Winter 5420, I"KI'REE'NOR (fortress of air)

Bored had begun to set in amongst the brothers. Elnor could feel it as much as anyone else there was little to do on the surface aside from wait for if they were to leave then they connection they had to the rest of there brothers would be cut off making any deals done without addressing the concerns of everyone, to begin with. So far they had found that the being of the surface the once that carried no tools where incredible aggressive they refused to communicate the worst of them where the ones with a fang for a face that could take to the air. They were horrible warlike creatures having immediately attacked them when they tried to approach of course this started a rather short and pitiful war against them. Was it amusing yes? But was it useful no.. Elnor began to wonder if the winged ones would show there face, after-all it seemed the geldek has reached this light they spoke it highly of yet it seemed to disappear every few hours and reappear sometime later Elnor and the other geldek had come to the conclusion that if this light was on the roof of this “surface” then it was clearly alive or at least something pushed it, the only other idea that came to the collective minds of the geldek was that maybe they were the ones moving? To Maby it made just as much sense leaving them all as a whole In a agree to disagree situation. Though even with this oddity Elnor questioned why any of the winged ones would bother leaving this strangely mesmerising place for the dank murky depths that the geldek had called home since there Father. Looking out into the horizon the large armour crystalline being would hum a soft tune the sound of reverberation of crystal and metal it produced a surprisingly pleasant sound, in the end, his brothers soon joined the wordless melody the music carrying far and wide form the imposing fortress of gleaming black, it was just a bit of fun for everyone involved in this expedition, the music was essentially a little bit of home they could actually relax for once the surface wasn't as hostile as below ground they could afford to be a little lax, even the fortress itself seems to join in the song as the sound resonated off its walls and outwards carrying on the wind to wherever it might take it, let it be across the large pond in the distance or across borders.

 

[chinchillaqueen]

Lucazia, The Sea Kingdom of Solicazia
Winter 5420
Captain T’oma a Ro’maha​

It was a cold day in Lucazia. The clouds hung heavy and low over the city, a foreboding grey colour that promised nothing but rain. The docks were busy, as usual, all sorts of people scurrying to and fro, running from ships to warehouses to carts and wagons. It was never quiet in the docks. People talked, word spread between ships faster than the cargo they were carrying, and it was never, ever boring. Only one flag in the harbour bore the blue flag, emblazoned with a tentacle grasping the sword–the flag of the Ascendancy.

“Ta’aokae!” Came the cry. One man was running along the deck of the ship towards the gangway, waving his arms. “Ta’aokae! Stop!” The same man called, gesturing wildly at the men attempting to load cargo onto his ship. The men stopped, sighing. “What for?” They called back to the man, exasperated.

The man stopped, as he got close, catching his breath momentarily. “This,” he said, in pointing at the boxes. “not mine.” He finished in broken, heavily accented Magesteri.

The men sighed, once more, exasperated. “Whose cargo is it, then?” One asked, speaking almost sarcastically slowly, presumably as a result of the captain’s terrible speech.

The captain gestured, wildly. “I do not know!” He said, frustrated. “Not mine!”

He pointed back at the dock. He sighed and waved over his First Mate to deal with the problem, making his way down the gangway onto the docks.

On the docks, he walked quickly to the Harbormaster’s office. He needed to inform the Harbormaster that his ship was leaving. Once there, he paused, looking at the man in the window of the office. He opened his mouth, before closing it quickly. “We are…” he paused, searching for the word. “Departing.” he said, turning to point at his ship.

The Harbormaster smiled patiently at the man. “Ah, yes.” The man nodded slowly. “Heading home, then? Right.” The man paused for a minute, inspecting his files. “All set!” He said, looking up at the captain.

The captain smiled and nodded slowly. “Thank you.” He said, giving the Harbourmaster a grateful look. He turned and began to walk back to his ship.

He only got halfway there before a voice caught his ear. “...new outposts...from the sea.” The captain paused, listening in. He edged closer to the man who was talking, trying to figure out what was going on.

“New outposts?” One of the other men asked, confused.

“Yes.” The first man whispered back, gesturing wildly. “Manned by bleedin’ giant crabs. The size o’ ‘em, is just unthinkable.”

The captain stopped eavesdropping and walked over to the man, pausing. “E-... excuse me. What you have just said…” he began, leaning in intently.

On’e’atema, The Ascendancy of the Western Sea
Winter 5420
First Secretary Hane’okora a Onoke​

There was a knock at the door. The woman at the desk sighed, setting down her pen. “Enter.” She called to the person outside the door. One of the guards standing by the door reached a hand out and opened it, allowing the person outside to enter.

“Your Excellency,” the man who had entered began, speaking quickly. “There’s something you must know about.” He wore the simple white robes most government officials wore, but his were different. Silver thread hemmed the edges of his robe, and a comb of a silver hand sat in his hair, marking him as a hand of the First Secretary.

Hane’okora nodded slowly, taking in the serious look upon her spymaster’s face. “What is it, Ad’ae?” She asked, concerned.

“Your Excellency, a rumour has been brought in on the tides.” Ad’ae said, looking at the First Secretary. “They say new outposts have been spotted on the shores of the Great Strait.” He paused, considering. “They say…they say they are manned by giant crab-like creatures.” He said slowly, looking at the First Secretary.

Hane’okora paused, rising from her seat behind her desk. “You’re sure?” She asked, gliding slowly to the large windows which looked down onto the city. She wore identical robes, save for that they were hemmed with gold, and her single braid had a pearl comb in it. Her dress whispered softly as her tentacles moved smoothly beneath it.

“It is… but a rumour, Your Excellency. But, if it were true…” the Hand trailed off, thinking. “If it were true, they would seize the only way to the Central Sea.” He paused again. “They say the people come from beneath the waves.”

The First Secretary stroked toyed with the end of her braid idly, thinking for but a moment. She turned back to the Hand. “Inform the Assembly I am on my way,” She ordered, striding purposefully from the room. “It appears we have something to discuss.”

By the time the First Secretary arrived in the Assembly Hall, it was already chaos. She entered through the main doors, flanked by several Secretarial Guards, having exchanged the pearl comb for a silver circlet. The room was arranged so that rows of desks set in a semicircle, facing a raised dais in the centre. A few chairs behind a long desk sat in front, and behind that sat a single, higher chair–no, a throne, carved from a single piece of polished white coral. Behind the throne, set into the wall was a large sheet of glass, behind which sat an old document, written in a flowing hand and pressed between the glass and the wall. Around the room, people were shouting, each trying to make their voice heard over another, but none were sitting, paying attention, or doing anything even remotely productive.

“Enough.” She called to the room, settling into the throne in the front of the room. No one listened. One Secretary paused, looking at her, before returning to arguing. She looked around the room and sighed. “Enough.” She said again, slightly louder. This time, no one listened.

She stood, grabbing the stone gavel that sat on the desk in front of her and brought it down on the polished stone desk, hard. A crack echoed throughout the room, in the wake of which she spoke again.

“SILENCE!” Her voice rang out through the chamber as it fell silent. The people throughout the room fell silent, looking sheepish. “You are all dismissed, save for the Small Assembly. The rest of you will leave, now.” She ordered, setting the gavel down and sitting back on the throne.

The people in the room slowly filed out, murmuring amongst themselves quietly, until there were only a handful of people left in the room. Ten of them sat at the desks closest to the dais, while the guards in Hane’okora’s retinue took up positions around the room. A few clerks settled into the seats just before the throne, ready to record the events that followed.

The Small Assembly was composed of the First Secretary, and the ten Secretaries besides her who represented the largest clans. Officially, under the Grand Charter, the Small Assembly didn’t exist. But my default, they were usually the closest thing that the First Secretary had to advisers.

Hane’okora sat, her posture perfect as she looked down at the Secretaries in the first ten desks. “My most esteemed Secretaries.” she began, folding her tattooed hands in her lap. “We have heard rumours from Solicazia. Rumours which we do not yet understand.” There was a quiet murmur throughout the room.

“And what, Your Excellency, would these rumours be?” The question came from the Secretary in the seventh chair, Secretary Du’eme. A slight man, quite young to be in the Assembly, but respected.

“There have been sightings of outposts, cropping up along the shores of the Great Strait,” she began. As she did so, a quiet murmur spread throughout the hall once more. She held up a hand, and the room fell silent. “The word of the waves is that these outposts are manned by crabs, several times the size of a man.”

“We must attack!” Roared one of the men, standing. Secretary Kagae’o was an older man, quick to anger and belligerent. “They mean to control the only means of passage to the Central Sea. That cannot be allowed!” He spoke loudly, looking at his colleagues.

Secretary Du’eme rolled his eyes, giving the other man a look. “You always want to attack, Kagae’o.” He said calmly, looking at him. “You jump at shadows in the waves, you fear when a cloud crosses the sun.” He turned back to the First Secretary. “Besides. It is clear, the Her Excellency has already decided how to act.” he said, perceptively.

Kagae’o turned to him, face turning red. “And one day, you will thank me for it.” He roared, looking at Du’eme. “We will never be respected as long as we negotiate with beasts, much less giant crabs.”

Hane’okora brought down the gavel lightly, and the ten Secretaries swivelled to look at her. “Secretary Du’eme is correct.” She conceded gently. “I have already ordered the First Hand to investigate. He takes with him his guard, as well as a Magister of the Sea.” She raised a hand as Kagae’o opened his mouth to debate. “It is decided. I have also dispatched with him a Projector, so he might better represent our people.” She paused. “I merely came here to find your opinions on this matter.”

Du’eme stood, looking at the First Secretary respectfully. “All in favour of investigating these outposts shall rise.” He said, formally.

All of the Secretaries rose, save for Kagae’o. He glared at them all angrily, each in turn, before rising from his seat and striding across the room to the door.

“We will come to regret this.” He said fiercely, striding from the room.

Hane’okora sighed, and brought the gavel down again. “I hereby do adjourn the Assembly for the day. All debate shall cease until next sunrise.” She said, standing before gliding gracefully from the room. Her guards fell in behind her, and one by one the Secretaries trickled out and the room fell silent.

The Great Strait
Winter 5420
First Hand Sohana a Nakemo​

The wind whistled through the long hair of the First Hand Sohana a Nakemo. He was a tall man, his slender face framed by the two braids that marked him as married among the Ate’oyan. In his hair sat the golden comb of his office, and he wore a long white robe, embroidered at the edges with silver thread. He breathed deeply, taking in the cool sea air. This was where he felt the most alive, on the deck of one of his people’s sky-barges, It was excessively large, given that he was bringing a very small team on this investigation with him, but there was no way he could have fit the whole team into a single chariot, so the barge would have to do. He turned, looking at the edge of the Great Strait as it came into view. The ocean gleamed like a beautiful jewel, the whole world laid out before him beautifully.

“Put us down there!” He turned, calling to the skipper from where he stood at the prow of the barge. “We’ll disembark there and investigate.” He turned, sweeping across the deck in his long robes. He paused in front of the mage who had been sent along with him. “Are there… any disturbances?” He asked quietly to the mage.

“No, sir.” The mage replied quietly. “I can sense no magic, and the skies will be clear here for the next couple of days. Everything should be fine.”

The First Hand nodded slowly. “Thank you.” He said, turning away. It was slightly odd that he had been sent here with the team he had. Not the soldiers, of which he had a squadron of six, but the fact he had additionally been sent with a mage and a protector–some of the most valuable people in the Ascendancy–spoke volumes about how concerned the First Secretary was of this new arrival.

There was a resounding splash splash as the barge settled into the water, followed by the shrill squaking of the team of eagles that pulled it as they settled into the shallow waters of the northern shore, displeased. “Captain!” Sohana called to the skipper. “Keep everything ready to go. We may need to make our exit with some… expediency.”

Sohana waved a hand to his team and stepped off the barge, into the shallow waters of the coast, hiking up his robes as he did so. He sighed pleasantly as his tentacles settled into the water, before walking to the shore. His whole team followed him; the armoured soldiers in segmented armour and cloaks, the Magister in his sleeveless robe and mask, the projector in his long dark robe, and the First Hand himself.

The group walked to shore slowly, wading through the waters before emerging onto the sand. Sohana turned to look at his team. “Right.” He said, in crisp Aten. “You,” he said, looking at the soldiers, “will form up around us.” he gestured to the Magister, Projector, and himself. “The first outpost should be this way. We will approach peacefully.” he said, giving them all a meaningful look. The soldiers nodded, slinging their bows over their shoulders. They checked their swords briskly, before standing at attention. Sohana patted the hilt of his sword reassuringly, and then began to walk forward, the soldiers falling in around him.

It was about an hour later that they spotted the outpost they were looking for. Sohana held up a hand, bringing the squadron to a stop. He sank into a crouch, squinting at the outpost from far away. He paused before turning to the mage. “What do you hear?” He asked the mage softly.

The mage paused, looking at the outpost. He gently brought his hands to his side and opened his mouth slightly. From it emerged a low keening noise, a single note held pure. Gently, the mage made a pulling motion towards his body. Sohana felt the air stir, just barely, and he knew what the mage was doing. Sound simply moved through whatever it was in, the Ate’oyan had discovered that when evolving. By forcing the air to allow sound from the outpost to move through it further, the mage could hear the noises from the outpost.

The mage turned to Sohana. “I’m… unsure, sir.” He said, pausing. “There are loud but muffled footsteps in the sand. And… some sort of… snapping?” He said, pausing.

Sohana nodded, standing. “Let’s approach, quietly.” He said to his squad. “We make no move unless they do.”

The group stood, and began to walk slowly towards the outpost, not bothering to try and hide. They were sure whoever was there would see them coming–they just hoped they were friendly.

DapperKnight

 

[Soviet Panda]

Abrechan fought even as he was dragged down by the metallic net, gnawing futilely at the interlocking links as he fell to the earth. And as he gracelessly crashed into the earth, the Stedonare reached their foe. A thunderous roar of hooves and the clashing of metal engulfed the surrounding area. Most of their weapons did little more than dent the armor, some of the poorly kept blades even shattering with the force of the impact. A single swing of the Anak's could cut a Stedonare in two, and soon topless carcasses were littered just past the titans, as the momentum of the recently deceased carried them further.

But even the superior quality of these gargantuan troops and their equipment could not stand up to the tide of flesh that was crashing upon them. All it took was a lucky strike for a fault in the armor to appear, or for a blade to slither in between the joints, where some compromises had to be made so as to allow movement. Soon one blade penetrated the armor, followed by more, and more still. The Stedonare alone were not to bring down the Anak, but they had done more than enough to allow the Hridir to finish them off. Their two handed axes rose and fell, like they were felling a great tree. Raet nimbly avoided the lumbering giant's massive hands and weapons as they climbed up the back of the giant to sink their long knives/short swords into their prey. Even with these advantages for the Deoram, each Anak was able to bring down tens of these creatures, the sheer number of the Deoram however did manage to kill the five Anak to the last.

Those that chased the carriage, however, were doing far worse. Their momentum nullified, the Stedonare could do nothing to the armored beasts that pooled the equally armored carriage. The few Raet that had managed to stay on the backs of the Stedonare (a risky proposition not because of the rough shod way the Stedonare ran but more for the loss of ones throat for doing such a thing), tried to hop onto the carriage but either slid off the armored sides and were crushed underneath or were pushed off the side and crushed. The effort of running alongside the carriage and futilely swinging their weapons at it soon drained the Stedonare, allowing the carriage and it's rider escape.

Once the fighting was done and no survivors found, the warband merged once more into the large horde that was trampling it's way further and further West. They did not thoroughly search the battlefield for survivors or loot, they knew the weapons and armor were far to big for them or were simply to caught up in the chase that they forgot that looting was an option. And poor Abrechan was left lying in the dirt. His fellows had seen him fall from the sky, they had seen many Hrermus do that, and none of them had survived the impact, if they had been alive. But Abrechan was not like most Hrermus, he was much bigger, and much tougher. A shame really, for that left him as easy pickings for whatever may saunter his way.

 

[doodleSM]

The Halls of Light, Bastion
Deep within Bastion Grand Master Lilith had sent couriers and sending spells to gather the Radiant-Commanders of the Order. Illuminated in bright halls and ornate architecture, the four leaders sat by a circular table. Statues depicting the previous heroes of the last two Foundings line the walls. The four of them had given their veneration to the Light before communing with each other. A Radiant Commander, Pentar Lumos spoke first, his voice was heavy and held gravitas: "We've not had a Radiant Crusade since Auriel Percivum's death. Grand Master Lilith's duel with the Demon has solved some issues but the Order should commune and coordinate with the Way of Light."

Raedr Hedriel, another Radiant Commander with long blonde hair and slightly darker skin, "The duel has shaken the foundation of our order. If a Demon could pose as a devotee of the Light, then what other weaknesses do we have? Where are we not strong?"

Vadyr Hedriel, his brother, nodded in agreement "The Darkness is seeping into the world, where do we draw the line? Lilith."

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose. "A Radiant Crusade is our course but we need to rebuild our forces and develop the land." She rises to her feet. "The Order of Radiance, devotees of the Light and enemies of the Dark, seek the enemies that lurk in the shadows. We must survey and scry the shadows to find the enemy. But perhaps the Way of Light can assist in these manners?" The others nodded in agreement. Pentar cleared his throat. "So it is settled. The Radiant Commanders shall ready our forces."

The Clerics of the Order sent a sending spell to the Way of Light, asking if they have any need of the Order against the Darkness and the Demonic.​

 

[Shireling]

The Battle of Tublika, Winter 5420 --- Resolution
​

The sons of Galaria would long remember this day as the first major victory for the Second Galarian Republic. Fire spread throughout the enemy camp, falling on the ranks of massed and catatonic wights and skeletons who presented excellent stationary targets for the eagles. The first salvo of dragon-fire bombs fell in the very thickest part of the immobile mass of enemy troops, causing an explosion and flaming oil to fall for several meters in all directions. Then a general panic ensued as the necromancers and dreadwight officers understood what was happening and either turned their troops for battle or attempted flight. Volleys of bolts and arrows reigned ineffectually into the dark of night, and the longer the undead spent ineffectively shooting at the eagles, the longer they were sitting ducks for strafing and bombing runs. After an hour or more of confused fighting, the armies of Illthak sounded a horn of general retreat and beat back towards the north, with eagles harassing their retreat the whole way.

When morning came, the Galarian troops were able to recover not only a sizeable amount of loot from the enemy siege camp, they were able to confirm that many powerful undead and even minor necromancers had been burned to a crisp. Their advance scouts reported that a paltry force of perhaps only 20 thousand undead was force-marching back north towards the Pass of the Dead, but supplies and the winter weather being what they were, there was no way the Galarian troops could give chase. The battle concluded, with Galarian forces assisted by the Tulian garrison as being the true victors.

Royalblue127

 

[Tetro]

The Anak fought on, but knew it was only a matter of time before numbers would overwhelm them. Putting their leader's life as a top priority, they urged him to escape with Nora while they held back the evergrowing number of foes. By the time Elijah was able to reach one of the chariots and, there were already several Raet jumping on and hacking at him. The few remaining guards ran alongside the chariot, being picked off as they created a small window of escape.

Nora stopped a few minutes after the Stedonare were no longer chasing her. The little Omoran climbed off the driver's seat and walked back to see if anyone else survived. To her relief, in the distance, she could see Elijah heading her way. When he finally caught up with her he was covered in cuts and bruises, his clothes torn badly and definitely beyond repair. After making sure neither of them was hurt too bad, Elijah told Nora that the beasts left behind what he guessed was their commander.

She crossed her arms, "we'll keep it in the carriage. If the people see it they'll want to torture and kill it..." Without another word, the two of them went about recovering their prisoner, the bodies of their fallen kin, and heading home for reinforcements.

 

[Shireling]

The Ruined City of Vostra'vin, The Great Temple, Spring 5421

Spoiler: Music

​

The Arch-Cantor Polyphonos XII laid sprawled out upon the floor before the great interior window of the Great Temple, a cone of line issuing forth to bathe him in its glow, a simple woolen mat of grey and red all that was between him and the cold stone floor. The sunlight felt warm on his wrinkled skin, soaked through the timeworn exterior of his body to warm the interior, his soul. And thus was his custom to lie, prostrate in prayer, feeling the sunlight hit his back and soak through his simple white robes, to his very marrow. And such had he done every day for forty years, beneath this very window.

But what had never happened was for him to be interrupted in his morning prayertime. Not interrupted by one of the cantors that filed in and out of the temple, walking the ancient steps up and down, chanting their prayers, singing their pleances for the sins of an old and darkened world. No, for they would know better. He was interrupted by a shadow that fell across his ancient frame like the great mountain casts its own shadow over the valley at eventide. He looked up.

It was an old man, like Polyphonos himself. He was dressed in pilgrim clothes: a tattered robe, a green hood, worn walking stick in one hand and a bindle in another. He wore a beard, still brown, and his robes concealed a form that was thin and yet quite powerful. At the very least, the Arch-Cantor could sense some sort of power in his presence. Perhaps this was a hard-handed man, whose last labor in life was a sojourn to the Great Temple of Morfus. Polyphonos rose from to his knees, then his feet, and made a gesture of blessing over the man.

"Greetings, pilgrim, I am—"

"I know," said the pilgrim with a matter-of-fact, neutral tone. Polyphonos lapsed into stunned silence. It was not that the stranger had offended him, there was no malice in the face or voice, it merely bewildered him. The pilgrim stepped through the threshold and began walking across the temple's interior sanctuary, a circular room populated by ancient columns and dominated by a healing font in the center. Polyphonos, curious, followed him.

"Well, if you know who I am, allow me to greet you, traveller, in the name of Morfus." The Arch-Cantor said earnestly.

"Very well, I will accept your greeting," the man said with a wry smile. He dipped his fingers into the font and watched as the water ran over his fingertips, all of this seeming rather odd to Polyphonos who had, now, thoroughly sprung from his usual meditative, half-aware state into one of wary alertness. The pilgrim retracted his hand and let the cool water drip onto the cold stone.

"I believe you wanted someone to repair your bookshelf." The pilgrim said at last. Polyphonos knit his brows. "I did?"

"Yes," said the man. "It's never been quite complete."

Polyphonos looked dumbly after the pilgrim as he began to stride off, curiously in the direction of the library. Polyphonos, after a hesitation, soon followed the pilgrim wearing a curious expression. They walked out of the north doors to the sanctuary and under a wide ambulatory that led to the library complex. On the way, the pilgrim spoke to Polyphonos of the threats that were but a few days from the walls of Vosra'vin, of a ravenous horde. To be sure, Polyphonos knew the danger, but not the extent of the threat.

"There is something you don't know, however," the pilgrim said, as they nearly entered the library. The pilgrim paused and held Polyphonos's shoulder. "The Deoram have been promised aid by infernal powers—specifically in the form of great siege engines. These ancient walls that have beaten back the tide of years will hold them back no longer, my son."

My son?

They entered the library, a room with a ceiling three stories tall all lined with books, with gigantic ladders propped up here or there. On either side of the rectangular room with a rounded ceiling great circular windows allowed in pillars of light.

"They are magnificent," the pilgrim admitted. "But you have one tome missing."

"And that would be?"

The pilgrim had already strode to the far end of the room and found a place the shelf was bare. There, he untied his bindle and produced a book, and a large one at that. The cover was engraved with all sorts of strange carvings, letters, runes, symbols. It radiated holy magic.

Polyphonos was thoroughly confused at the sight, and advanced closer to read the cover of the book. "What, what is that?" He stammered.

"This is the Book of Chords," the pilgrim explained, opening up the tome to a seemingly random page. Light leaped up from the pages, and...music? A veritable symphony emerged from the book, voices of all kinds, stringed instruments some of which the Arch-Cantor had never heard before. It was beautiful. So beautiful that he had to force tears back from his eyes. The pilgrim noticed his expression and looked up from the tome. "Ah, you like that one?" He asked. He smiled a small, tender kind of smile. "It is the sound of an infant whose soul has climbed to heaven. Think ye it sounded like a dirge?"

Silence, for a moment. Then Polyphonos stuttered, "No, my, it sounded like..."

"Celebratory, light, happy, joyous." The pilgrim smiled again. "Think ye the little ones weep in my arms?"

"I... your..."

The pilgrim closed the book. "Take it, Polybius, my servant. You have done well." He handed the tome to Polyphonos, who was almost afraid to take it, and as he did so the hood fell from the man's face revealing a careworn face, yet full of vitality, and eyes as grey as a cloudy morning. As he took the book, he felt the man's fingers—calloused at the tips, like a lutenist. He held the tome against the folds of his robe.

"There are many books in this library, Polyphonos, that say many beautiful things. Perhaps every thought and deed of mortalkind for over ten millennia is stored in this room." He turned back to Arch-Cantor. "They will not survive the sack of the my Temple, and they are of no consequence anyways, all things considered. But this," he pointed to the book, "this is a treasure. I gifted it to Plendar in the First Age, to teach his people the Chords, the underpinning of all reality. He taught his people the Way, but they have since left the tide of history and gone home. Darkness like that of the First Age is all around you, but you must dispel it. And you will, with that book." He pointed to the cover again for emphasis.

Polyphonos looked confused, although a light was beginning to envelope his mind. Could it? Was it?

"You keep saying that 'I gave this to Plendar' and 'my Temple,' but who—"

The pilgrim closed his eyes and began to hum softly. Once again, a song Polyphonos had never heard, but one that filled him with a kind of ecstatic joy such that he had never felt in his life, like so many threads of light had wrapped themselves around his spine, his heart. He heard a voice say, disembodied, from all corners of the room. "I am He that made all things, who formed you in your mother's womb, who wrapped you in the swaddling clothes of Being, who held you through your childhood, and He that hobbles with you in old age. As I was with the first, so I will be with you, even unto the End of the Age." The voice added. "Take the book, my son, and teach my creation to sing again."

"My God, my God!" Polyphonos cried out, like a child that had lost his mother, had searched for her for long hours, and had finally seen her cresting over the hill. He threw his whole body upon the form before him and—the humming stopped, the pilgrim had vanished, and nothing save the massive tome could cushion his fall. For a moment, there was silence and stillness. Then Polyphonos blinked and opened his eyes. He was surrounded by cantors in white robes. "Are you alright, your holiness?" One asked plaintively.

"I...I... Where did he go?"

"Who, sir?"

"The pilgrim?"

The cantors gave him a strange look. "Why, Holy Father, there is no pilgrim here? Are you sure you are well?"

"Quite well," Polyphonos said, rising back to his feet. He felt the weight of the book. If nothing else, this was real.

Just then, a temple guardian dressed head to toe in plate armor and carrying a mace and shield burst into the library. "Your Holiness," he began and kneeled, "the enemy has erected their siege camp outside our walls. What orders have you for the defense?"

"I..." Polyphonos looked around. "I..." He glanced into all their faces, then down at the book. "Evacuate the Temple complex." The cantors and especially the guardian seemed shocked by this order. "We must prepare to retreat. Captain, your men must buy us some time. What of our reinforcements?"

"They will be here shortly, Your Holiness, surely we can last out the siege?"

"No," Polyphonos declared emphatically, "not this one." He glanced down again at the book, then sighed. "Morfus protect us."

​

 

[Selee-01]

Drachen
Spring 5421

Emperor Archibald flexed taloned fingers, wincing from his arthritis. He’d felt the fire calling for a long time now. The pale scales crawled across his flesh, and he leapt from the balcony.

White fire illuminated the dawn sky, and the eldest dragon of his era took flight.

Weeks later, Emperor Archibald was no more.
***
Sun Prince Harrison

When he descended upon the white towers of Faircourt, the bells were ringing. His blood ran cold, and he dropped to the courtyard. The Fiery Swords slid off, and he assumed mortal form in a flash of fire.

Princess Grace was there, golden eyes flickering with tears.

“Father is dead,” she said as soon as he was within earshot. Dead? Harrison thought. His father was heathy.

He had a duty, though. He had a Throne to claim.

“Where is Emma?” he asked.

“Holed up in the Dragonkeep. She hasn’t even received the news.”

Harrison grinned a dragonbone smile, black and fierce.

“Who is with us?”

“Jasan, Alaen and Jenner. They are coming now, to see you on your throne.” All three were proven dragons, large and in their prime. With him and Grace, they had far superior ties. The Imperial Banks were his, and their private armies as well.

He laughed. Jon will be tickled pink, he thought. Too bad he was off visiting family.
***

 

[DapperKnight]

Winter 5420, Staac Cast Outpost

The sun held high in the sky of the surface land. It was a strange experience, being on land. Iekki's entire life was spent in what the older Elders called the Shallows, but here the water was more shallow then back home. The waters here near the surface was so shallow, that the seemingly endless sea ended here. Maybe the Drowning Lands was more vast then the ocean, but the Elders told her that their homelands, as dangerous as it was, is an even greater land then the surface. It apparently had a brutal beauty to it. A land where hunters and hunted were one and the same, and the line between predator and prey was non-existent. But despite that, it was a land of beautiful crags, plentiful hunting lands and was much like Malacs themselves. Simple, hungry, and violent.

She didn't see her homeland. She was one of the many thousands of "Shallow Grubs", Malacs who were born in the Shallows. She knew only the waters of the Shallows, until her Second Molt, and now she knew the Drowning Lands as well. Outside of the water was a completely different experience for her. Without the water to support her weight, everything she did felt cumbersome and heavy. Even the simple movement of simply lifting one of her front legs, pushing it forward, digging it into the ground, then kicking up the dirt and sand felt strangely heavy to her.

Perhaps she was still too soft for guard duty. It's only been a year since she's had her second molt, and Iekki was distracted with shoveling with her claws and feet, forming small holes and hills of muck and dirt then keeping an eye out for rebels or wildlife. Everything acted differently on the Drowning Lands. Everything sank faster, and held together more strongly up here. There was new colors she could never describe, and she wanted to collect it all. Soft things that fell of the surface fish and danced in the air, too fragile to hold in a claw, so she carefully used a stick to put them in her mouth to carry. And hard broth things that was covered in hair and that had soft white inside. Her favorites were things that grew on the brown bones that were colorful and soft, and like the soft things, she carefully picked them up in her mouth and dropped them in the holes, burying them all for safekeeping. The King would never let her bring these things back. They had no place for them. Iekki would make places for them.

While tending to her collection, making a new hole to fill, she hears the sound of rustling in the green scales growing from the brown bones. Perhaps it was rebels? Or maybe surface wildlife? Either way, she had trained for this and kept her claws up and her stance tight, as she waited for the threat to reveal itself. What she saw was...not what she expected. People who looked like the squids and octopuses of the Shallows came out of the green scales, and she was visibly confused. She didn't know what to do. No one taught her what to do if you find water wildlife on the Drowning Lands.

Perhaps they were a threat? Or perhaps not. She stayed quiet, and shadowed their movements, keeping them in front of her at all times. There were two of them, but she was larger and had a harder shell then any squid or octopus. As they moved closer, she snapped her claws and slammed her larger battle claw into the ground, to hopefully scare off the intruders.

chinchillaqueen