War for the New World

ChelonianCommander

ChelonianCommander

Strength of Steel, Will of Iron
EVENT: A Growing Seasons. The Snow months had finally ended, and warm winds from the south had come, bringing along the ability to grow crops and revitalizing the lands with a fertile boon. The Growing Seasons has arrived and with it a bounty. -Unknown Highmourne Scribe

EFFECTS: The days are now warmer, the fields are now fertile enough for planting and days are longer and brighter.
 
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Nestled within the slender valley of mountains spine the jagged city of stone stood casting long its shadow across the land, walls with sharp angles and spike falls connected with an imposing gate that fed a single slab of stone to either side. Smoke from foundry stacks, forges, mines and all matter of industry working minerals and jewels. Towering fortifications dot along the naked back of mountains range while, Ally ways dark and cramp off set by the wide roads splitting the city into sections. Surrounding forest clear cut to make way for mines, homes and farmland with all roads bent and crooked save for the single major stone road that bled to the east before turning into dirt.

To the center of it all a massive temple-like castle--the door to the L'Charnag Delmah, The deep home. this building was black with two massive towers on either side, upon these towers images of their gods, She of the left and He of the right. The towers unlike the main temple painted and adorn with radiant colors and jewels that glisten with unspeakable beauty when the sun sets upon it. The city itself above the ground was called Videen as It kept the gate to the true home of the Telanth.

[Capital is Number 19]

Echoed steeps upon the cold stone floor reverberate out unto the black of the temples halls within the belly of L'charnag Delmah, There a man strode in gentle repose dwarfed by the imposing statues cut into pillars--the robust image of his dearest gods. She of the left and He of the right, Their statues clad with but pride alone and heads bent to leer at his passing. Dead air stirred only by the methodical hymn washing over the assumable clergy clad in colorful robes imbibing the sung words with silent bliss, Giving pause to shuffle away only as the man walked down to the middle of them kneeling down upon a stone cut image of a two fist, one turned to and the other away from him.

He--this man clad only in a loose robe with colored silk ribbons along its length while his flesh bore radiant hued tattoos that gleam upon fires dance alone now in the middle of this grand hall, Hair long and kept with streaks of white still seen mixed with black/blue shades hinting his younger age. Eyes closed while he spoke.

"O listener of the Telanth, My lord, I have answered your call."

The clergy turn silently bending heads while fingers fold upon one another to pray in silence all while from the dead stone throne a pair of deathly hands fall to the light of fire, leaning into the light yet staying just out of its full grasp this ghastly man spoke with a razed voice.

"Come, Ruuaan, rise your head."

Ruuaan kept his pose but rose his head, eyes slowly open. silence.
The figure under guise of shadow spoke again.

"Ruuaan, The time has come for us to stir upon the world above, I have heard the whisper of their movements. the...stealing of mana...the pain of the land. These wayward heathens must be culled from our new home..."

Single hand rose to give rest to a bending head, fingers run down the length of his brow
"...or see the truth on our teachings, less I be forced to rout my children from their home once again. My heart could not bare such...pain, Ruuaan."

Ruuaan grits his teeth with a crude growl "Surely NOT my lord! this is our home, our bastion of silence." Crushing his fist to the floor "tell me my lord, what would you have me do?"

From the crowd of clergy men a female bellowed "Show them the mercy of our truth!" the faithful rally with a prayer and calls of agreement quelled as Ruuaan rose now holding that fist into the air "Yes let us do as we have done before and -- "

"NO! This is not the Whisper of heaven I have heard! I Qhymareth Eyh--listener of these Dalharen L'telanth Ugul Sharorr have heard HER voice" Standing with a near jump as naked foot cleaves its heel to the stone letting out a grizzled declaration, the room fell to sure silence as the clergy turned stunned and zealous, eyes inching with a near mad enthrallment.

Qhymareth rung his fingers as we spoke now slowly stepping down the length of stairs that flushed out to the hall where Ruuaan was "It was but hours ago as I listened within the deep temple, there I heard her voice--a call to "

Arms reaching out into the air, fingers clawing out into the black space above.

"save this world from ITs--self. We have a foes that bare teeth to the west but uneasy peace with those here in the east. we must know them, learn of them and in this, slowly let them drink our bliss--in time they shall turn to our true faith but we must be as She--patient." reaching the floor he strides slowly to Ruuaan "It was haste and aggression that gave us this home but bled into this stale mate..We~e must know them so that we can break them."

stopping before Ruuaan holdng out his hands as to command him to rise before him.

"Thus I have called upon you, Ruuaan. Blessed Scouts-men who withstood the mad charge of the saurian scum, who has dealt with both those of our north and south. I must listen to your wisdom."

Ruuaans' eyes grow--to hear such words "YES MY LORD, what would yo--" A voice cuts him off " You mean to deepen our trust in those heathens?! " A man broke from the crowd, old and withered with a majestic robe bound with silken rope and jeweled cufflinks "they surely are not worthy! they need only our arrows to free them from their life lived in lies! " the crowd stirs and words and thoughts, the vision of heathen blood feeding festering minds.

Ruuaan kept silent backing away as Qhymareth turned to this man "Head priest Filifar, Surely you can not be so deaf? do you not understand? we must be trusted, loved even. we must place temples and convert them with open hands and in time--they shall be us. A true man of faith you are Filifar or have you heard only the right and cup the left ear?"

Filifar shudders to the insult losing nerve to the discontent that grew at his back "...No my lord...I...I understand your wisdom. . . but..they are no--"

"enough, Filifar" Qhymareth spoke in cold tone warming it only as he turned to Ruuaan "Ruuaan, I would ask, who best would be sent to invite the leaders or their trusted parties to our...Home, who are these leaders, these people"

A pause of thought as Ruuaan dwelled on the question, answering it with confident energy " My lord! Those of the north, a leader who knows the bow--an orc respected by his men for his skill as a ranger and tactical thinking. do not know of the people or their workings, forgive me--Those of the south Did not trust us, did not get close, fighting with us only to gain their hold on this world from what whispers I stole from those men of sarmin is that their king is old but kept 'bout under the influence of magic."

Qhymareth turns away lost in thought speaking out with his back turned " So we must send then a party headed by both our best magi and archer.. "

Filifar steps forward "My lord, the clergy is weary of this choice, while we always shall have faith in heavens whisper I must ask you appoint one of my personal guard to this--he is an archer without peer." one of the cloaked clergy step forward speaking once as Filifar goes on "my lord"

"He is Merrick, his mastery of the bladebow is without peer among my men--he too is of the cloth. appoint him and we shall be at ease"

"So Be it Filifar, Merrick, you shall go to the lands to the north and meet with this orc and ask to meet--be it here or at the middle-capital. you will return and report and then go onto the meeting point. Understood?"

Merrick bows silently , sharply turns and leaves.

"...mmm now the other" Qhymareth mutters Ruuaan steps forward " My lord, a Female mage would be best for the south, both for that of the old king and the men who she shall have to speak with to gain entry, Zesstra and her sister Sabal would be able to gain entry."

Qhymareth turns his head as eyes slide along their sockets feeding a calm glare to Ruuaan. " Them...Is this what you would judge? sending them would be interesting but I am unsure if it would bare fruit But I shall listen to you...yes...the wind in your voice stirs me Ruuaan. I feel fates hand. Send give to them their mission."

"My lord" Ruuaan bows and turns leaving"

Qhymareth returns to his throne as the muffled hymns start once again, the clergy return to their respective placement.

The settlement north of the capital [18] sat unfit for others, the Telanth cared not for the above ground cities and slowly dug down into the earth enforcing the earth and clay with arcane knowledge as they did so. Making use of the inland lake for a massive reaching line of docks for fish nursery's the shore was walled off with buildings and boats, a few artificial river ways fed into long dark caves that kept fungi farm kept and clean as well as the Spider grooming pits. Being so close to the capital its considered just part of that city, roads and buildings dot the space between them as to insight future building this said, the town is often called by Lanke

To the most east[17] The town of Ealite sat to the vast ocean and was home to boilers that boiled away the salty ocean and shipped back the salt. The town was small but had a few stone towers that lined along the coast line and a temple of silence inland, away from the ocean.

[20] This major defensive city scape was constructed to do not but be a rest and restock point for the near by fort, wide stone cut roads scar the mountain scape reaching out to towers that look out over the valley to the middle south, this city is a network of messy caves and tunnels. While many are meant for mines and buildings many are death traps or dead ends, some caves feed out to the north face of the mountain range but are well hidden and can hardly fit a single Telanth.

It has been a long twenty years of uneasy peace broken by the seemingly random bout of violence along the boarder, in this time the Telanth of focused on the construction of their capital and all resources to fuel its construction and expanding reach. Silently they have mapped out the land around them and come to know well the mountain they call home even going so far as to sneak away into the other exodites land mapping it out. they have kept to themselves turning away the other races only to in turn kidnap them away should there numbers be few. While there is no proof the men and women who have disappeared near Telanth land have made others weary of them, On the other side Telanth have a prideful custom of bards who both spy and entertain at should they be allowed in. These wayward bards travel freely but are still Telanth and tread with weary feet.

Learning how to hunt and use this new land, knowing its elements and laws have been their design for many years eating and mixing anything and every thing to find any kind of use, this bold and rather blind way has lead to the sorry deaths of a hand full but in turn made way for loose alchemy. So far they have refused to trade anything outside a few of their less arrow and bow craft to rangers and hunters they come to trust or as a trade for a service of some short. Telanth are by no means sailors of any kind of water but with such access to bodies of water a few brave men and women have tried their hands at it often confusing any non-Telanth bystanders, boat thief seems to have a slight spike in some areas.

Clergy of the Vok Ulu Venorsh have been seen walking the land, building small road side shrines or stacking stones in odd places all over the east of the island and even a small number trying to get to the west, they construct stone-work buildings designed for sleep, rest or sanctuary from weather. While the spell work is unknown to others the these places of faith are oddly silent almost as if the stone itself steals away sound, ensuring peace to whom ever would rest at one.
 
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Near the border wall, just north of Fort Resolve

"Spring is on the horizon." A soldier remarked, standing atop the stone bulwark of a gatehouse, one of the few portals in the living monument along their border. He leaned forward, his intricate, layered chain mail rattling softly as he rested against the crenellations. The light breeze of the morning blew against his face, and he pulled his fur lined cloak closer with a shiver. "I just wish it would get here sooner..." He muttered.

"Captain Dog!" The soldier turned as he was called and saw a subordinate walking his way along from the other end of the stone structure.

The officer, Captain Dog by his address, turned to the newcomer. "I'm no longer a Captain, Reggard. I know it's been a while, but aren't you in my company? You should know these things!" He replied in the playful, half chastising, half joking manner one would address a friend. He grasped his ally by the arm and smiled, looking him once over. He was dressed in a similar mail and plate, and a simple cloak adorned his shoulders. The sigil of house Magyar on its back, a red tower on a white field, matched his own.

"Apologies, Marshall Avon Magyar, I didn't realize you were one for formalities among your own kin!" He smiled wryly, and embraced his fellow man. "It's been a while cousin."

"It has, it has. Come, what news do you bring from home in Novenary?" Avon replied. He shook off some of the cold, warmed by the company.

"Well, let's see..." Reggard began, pursing his lips, and drumming his fingers along the stonework. "Your father, Duke Ars, sent along another several dozen mages to speed construction and reinforcement of the wall. They were in the process of finalizing the details as I left. House Thaym still trades weapons with the Children, despite orders of weapon trading to cease. High King Deathmantle has set to open the gates of the towns and walls in a show of goodwill, though it seems the order already arrived" Reggard eyed a small caravan from the orcs wheeling through the gate, and looked over his shoulder towards the sounds of a Telanth bard playing the the camp's courtyard.

"An interesting decision. Raiders coming over the wall is already a problem, and now they're permitted to walk straight through? Reason's sake..." Avon shook his head. "More work for the infamous Captain Dog and his Hound's Legion." He walked to the other side of the gatehouse, and observed the units of cavalry around the camp, more lightly armored than the traditional troops of the Sarmin armies. All veterans, trained to move at a moment's notice, some of the fastest men in the kingdom. They had to be, to catch the fast moving Saurians required nothing less.

"Ah ah ah! Marshal Dog." Raggard corrected. "Other than that, an envoy was sent to the orcs bearing a gift of an obsidian shield. Apparently old Deathmantle wants to get onto the good side of the neutral men of the north. Or perhaps not. It's anyone's guess what the shield means. 'Take this, you'll need it?' The old king was always a cryptic fellow like that."

"Our history is weathering storms. Storms of men, storms of nature, storm of magic. I just hope our king doesn't drag us into another one too soon." The marshal stated ominously.

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In the Mikhe Shipyards, located in Mikhe (4)

The Growing Seasons have arrived, and with it came time for the raids. The shipyards were bustling with hundreds of warriors and beasts, ready for the transportation of the new Raiding parties to the Exodite lands. Saurian Matriarch Shiye stands idle on her Pachy mount, looking out towards the raiders that are to go to Exodite territories for riches and slaves. Shiye looked around, disappointed at the warriors that are marching onto the boats. as her daughter Clan Matriarch Hegta stands next to her.

"Hegta, how many warriors have gathered here?" Shive asks

"Near 700 Mother. 400 from varying families gathered from our Clan Bethyi and another 300 from sent by Clan Matriarch Tetephe of Clan Kemare." Hegta replies.

"That is 500 less then last Growing Season. Is there an explenation?" She asks Hegta.

"Well...the other four Clans stated they would rather send their own expeditions into Exodite territory then share the glory and spoils with the others. Kemare stated they would send us 500, but had only sent 300 and Clan Seton said they would send 500 but they withdrew their forces in favor of sending 700 on their own expedition later this Season." Hegta said "The other Clans would rather waste their warriors on raids closer towards the center of the Exodite lands, rather then the edges."

"I see....even after I made clear to keep to the edges. What little grip I had on the Clans is slipping. Perhaps examples must be made..." She thought and her daughter was quick to interject.

"The edges of the Exodite lands are becoming less, and less fruitful Mother. The Clans are simply moving onto greener pastures, so to speak." Hegta replies.

"And as a result they would agitate the Exodites, and shorten the time to another conflict We need to push for advancing our culture away from scavenging and looting, otherwise I fear we might become the spark that will ignite the Second Havis War, and I doubt the Dwarves or the Nymphs would aid us should they find out. We need to enforce the limitations I have placed on expeditions. Call the Clan Matriarchs and send a messenger to the Dwarves. Ask them to send a diplomat to help act as a neutral adviser." She orders.

"Of course mother. I shall send our fastest scouts." Hegta replies.

"Your fastest scouts Hegta. You are Clan Matriarch now. You need to take responsibility of your riders, otherwise they'll never come to respect you. Now send the scouts, and make sure the tributes for the Nymphs are ready to send out. We need to stay in their good graces if we are to survive the next century." She said and Hegta nods.

"Of course mother. Sorry mother." Said Hegta. Shiye cracks the reins before riding off to her palace of stone. Hegta stayed behind to organize everything. 700 warriors were sent off by sea to the Exodite's territory for the raiding expeditions and a messenger by Terrodon was sent to the Dwarves of Highmorne to ask for assistance at the Clan meeting and a tribute of 10 wagons of food, wine and treasure was send to Nymphs as a gift directly from Saurian Matriarch Shiye.
 
((SUPER long one I'm sorry in advance))
20 years ago...
Aluthe (#9), Capital of the Reborn Court
The people raved outside the Inner Gardens. Chanting and prayers were heard from the rallies. The Secessionists, as they called themselves, were essentially the closest thing to a political party the Court has ever had. They composed a majority of the human populace and a majority of the Nymph's were sympathizers if not full-blown organizers for them. They asked, ironically, for one policy: Secede from the Alliance and return to the Reborn Courts roots, away from the politics and industry of the outside world. Today, then, was their greatest victory, though bittersweet it would come to be in history...

Tala gazed over the balconies of the naturally grown walls of the inner garden, essentially the palace-home of the Nymph race, and the castle from which Tala governs. Tala saw thousands gather to witness the momentous day; The day Tala would tell the other Durnites that history will not repeat itself; Not on her watch. As she finished delivering a peppy, encouraging and emotional speech, The people cheered. Nymph officials carried all the paperwork regarding the joining of the alliance, and places in in the dirt in front of her, as a slight rain began to fall. Raising her hand, The papers magically burst into flames and were turned to ash in seconds. "Let the past only fuel our future, my children: like ashes of a burn fertilizes a new growth."

Soldiers ran up to speak to Tala, panic in their eyes. alarm horns were sound in the far corners of the city. Anger formed in Tala's face.

"Move the people into the inner gardens. Evacuate the city to the palace."

The people screamed as they saw flying Highmorne battleships rise over head. Iron cannon-balls rained, the adobe structures shattered instantly in the hale-storm of death. Whole corridors and streets collapse in on itself, as hordes of terrified Ents and humans were claimed as collateral damage...

Ashes. The dust filled the air like ashes. Tala herself walk the ruins of her military college and surrounding district. The death toll was thousands easily. Her daughters and sisters wept and moaned, but no sound came from Tala. Nothing came from her blank, stony countenance. She stooped down to see that she stood atop a pile of splintered wood. Ent wood.

"Melias, come here." She whispered to her eldest daughter, beckoning her over without looking up. With a slight quiver she stated simply, under her breath and in confidence to the future general Melias "Remember today. Nothing matters but today. Remember this carnage. They are ALL *incapable* of more then this. Always remember today... and make them ALL feel this way."

Still an unpopular decision, military reaction was not taken to this beyond self-defense measures. But what could be taken? The Reborn court would fall into a decade of obscurity...

Today...
Aluthe (#9)
((Passages in quotes are written by @ChelonianCommander ))
Melias walked the military college, as she did every year. The structure was beautiful; huge rough river stones, natural clay mortar, and slanted wall wider at the base then the top. Wide arrays of bright colors marked the school. Melias' elite guard came to her, and informed her that she was to meet Lady Tala at the north gate.

At the north gate a caravan of saurians bearing gifts appeared. Lady Melias, general of the Reborn Court, met with the Great Lady Tala to except the gifts. The faces were lovely but showed absolutely no emotions. A disquieting stillness filled the air as the Suarians rolled into Aluthe.

The Saurian caravan was being led by one of the higher Ranking members of Clan Bethyi, a one armed and one eyed Saurian woman wearing studded leather and riding ontop a barded Pachy. The caravan consists of 12 wagons, each being pulled by a Parasaur, 6 of which carrying silver icons and statues and gold coins of Allience make, and 4 carrying salted meat, grains, and aged wine. The last 2 were simply supplies needed for the journey. The woman leading the caravan speaks up as they approach the gates. "I am Mythi of Clan Bethyi, my Matriarch, Bethyi Matriarch Hegta told me to present to your leader, Lady Tala with gifts of food, silver and gold."
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"Greetings, Mythi." said Tala "Our gratitude is inexpressable!" She laughed slightly at that. "Please, come with us to the Resource Banks to store these generous gifts. You must be tired, please allow a gift in return - we have a guest home near the inner garden in the east district. there you may eat provisions and stay as long as you need to prepare for the long journey home - As an expression of our thankfulness." While Tala bears a giddy smile throughout this encounter. Melias, during this, bore a cold expression. No words came from her, or any one else. Just a blank gaze.

"Of course..." Mythi replies as she gestures for the caravan to follows Tala to store the gifts. While she rides along, Mythi makes sure to stay within earshot of the Lady. "My lady, these gifts do not come without a cost. Bethyi Matriarch Hegta wishes that this tribute would be enough for you to consider opening up communications with Saurian Matriarch Shiye." She explains.
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There was a pause. Frowning, Tala said "Mythi, as grateful as we are, We cannot return to the alliance. Just please understand..." Melias shifted her stance behind Tala, her face not so much as blinking. "...to rejoin with the Highmourne is not something the Court Folk want or need. I hope you do not take this the wrong way. Though, if you simply mean communications or trade with Shiye, that I CAN accomplish. "

"hmm...Mythi went into thought for a moment. "I beleive that the Matriarchs wish for you to meet them in person. I do not know for what reason, but they seem to wish to speak to you in person. I have 50 good warriors with me so if you require an escort to Mikhe, we shall provide. The offer shall only last the week, as we cannot stay longer then that time."
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More silence. Tala looked at the other nymphs, who almost seemed disapproving. "I can come with you, but I will bring escorts of my own." stated Tala.

"Very well. We will allow you 30 of your warriors to accompeny us back to Mikhe. Take as much time as you need, but know that our caravan leaves exactly one week from now." Mythi replies. "I encourage you to prepare for travel before that time."
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Melias grunted, though the others ignored this. Tala spoke again "I will bring my 50, and follow your party at a respectable distance." Something about her tone spoke volumes about the 'legitimacy' of her friendly expression at this "...Or not at all, if you prefer." It was clear, for whatever reason, that the Reborn Court has become a lot less friendly to outsiders compared to there last meeting...

Wether it was 30 or 50, it didn't really matter to Mythi, but still having 50 non-allied warriors following her group made her uncomfortable. "Fine. Bring 50. My other statement still stands. We shall leave at the end of the week, with or without you. I ask that you take that into consideration." Mythi states.
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"Very well." said Tala. Within the next week the two parties departed. Tala and her 50 guards followed about half a mile behind at comparable pace to the caravan. Soon, the familiarity of her forest were behind her. They passed Highmoune lumber camps and then hills and rocky lands; The realm of the Saurians sprawled out before them.
 
“So. The lizards want one of our diplomats, eh?” Rumbles Gotthic Cloudborne, leader of the Highmourne Dwarves, as he sat upon his throne. Around him, the wind screamed past as his battleship, Soul’s Anger, tore through the sky. Beside and below it, the armada of the Highmourne sailed through the air, conducting practice manoeuvres. In the distance he could see the city of Volok, the primary producer of the the Dwarves’ Ships. Smoke and flame rose from the large city, and an almost endless stream of ships seemed to flow to and from it.

The Grand Admiral read over the proposal, sending a glance towards the Saurian messenger on the deck below. A few decades ago he would have dismissed it out of hand. Back then, their proud people didn’t have a need for contact with the other races, the Alliance little more than a convenience that stopped outright war between their peoples.

Nowadays, it was of greater importance. Since the cataclysm, his people had been broken. They had needed to rely upon their allies for the first time in Dwarven memory, a shameful fact. However, the greatest shame belonged to those who had fled from the alliance the moment the situation required them to actually contribute. He looked forward to the day he could stare down upon the burning cities of those infernal Nymphs, and hear their lamentations for abandoning their allies in their time of need.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he mulls it over. A diplomat of the Highmourne to look over a clan meeting of the Saurians. He supposed it could be useful, and at minimum would allow them to glean further understanding into the lizardfolk’s strange culture. Stroking his beard, he nods to himself and signs the paper, passing it to a waiting servant to deliver and organise a response.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Gotthic rises from his throne to manoeuvre his ship. Below, the telltale roar of cannon fire could be heard as the Highmourne navy practiced. The last twenty years had been good to them. Having quickly secured all resource rich locations they could from the Saurians, the Highmourne had bounced back remarkably.

But Gotthic wasn’t content with this. They had survived, perhaps even flourished, but they could never attain the future his people deserved as long as the traitorous nymphs and blasted Exodites still existed. Their presence was a blight upon the land. His people had suffered because of them and their choices.

The nymphs could play the victim card all they want, as cowards do, but history spoke for itself.

It had been long in the making, but his people were now fully up and geared for a final war. All that he needed now was to know the Saurians’ stance. He truly hoped the last resemblance of allies the Dwarves had would stand with them, and lamented the death of the more virtuous nations at the time of the cataclysm.

Signalling towards another messenger, he quickly jots down a message for the Saurians, for only their leader to see. It detailed that Gotthic wished to meet with them, and on the topic of war.
 
Deep in the belly of L'Charnag Delmah the elders of each caste, each branch and every command gathered within a large conference room. The room was well lit for a Telanth with bot fire and bioluminescence fungi stalks weave along the walls and pillars alike basking the room in gentle shades of purple and green mixed with hot orange and reds of the fire. Yelling and cursing between the competitive spheres of power, Cold steel gauntlets cleave into a stone table "Silence you DEAF fools! your empty eared babble does not but waste ti *hack hack cough* Ime"

An elder who was the image of death defied, gashes and magic wither leaving him blind and lame but even then held his heavy weight war staff with a jealous vice, facial hair messy and long. Clothed only in a purple robe and steel gauntlets he sits down shaking his hand.

"achh aaaakhh caha, I' dear Gestfro still cant expend some control in his old age" a elder woman heckling the old man

"Silence you bog hag, we haven't come to listen to you--" cutting him off "Ohoo Surely we must be hear to a bitter old Telanth ache the airs of He and She" He jabs his finger out at her "Listen 'ear Uilirythe dun' make me bounce yer damn head off this tab--" once more he was cut off but now by a younger man, clear by his uncolored hair.

…"Father. . . We are...in the middle of a gathering.."

Gestfro Shrugs and lowers his hand as Uilirythe rolls her brow at the man, standing he spoke " Children of the whispered throne...the season of snow has pasted and once more the scum of the west shall move on our lands, the war years ago did well to teach us of our failings...and we have moved many ideas along to counter both vessels that take flight to the clouds and monsters ridden by heathen whores--even the disarray of the folk have given us knowledge but still we...lack. Frist and foremost we must disallow them from riding our towns and resources without being bled for every inch they would steal steps upon our land."

Gestfro sat down as Uilirythe stood "Our magic has been keen and well used and they seem untrained to the true manifestation of mana bound to body and fueled by the exchange of blood but their technology is beyond us...All those of my caste, the turned hand, we have been tasked with observation of this technology and stealing it when able and within that conjure means counter it."

"Additional..." Filifar, the head clergymen stood now from his seat "Our listener has give me...and there in us a task of importance, Heavens ear Qhymareth has stressed to me that we must capture as many as we can of those of the north and west."

"Has 'e now?" Gestfro barked "have we not a pile of breed stock and thralls? what design has he spoke of?

"I know not Gestfro, only that it is what was whispered, what was heard and thus what must be done"

Gestfro stood back to his feet "Hrmm so it is my brothers, We--the warrior caste, the bulwark of our home, move out within the day. We shall take harbor in the woodlands near lanke as both lanke and ealite are the easier targets. Ruuaan and his javelin bladebow battalion shall come take part, They will have to come through this forest or at the most hug its edge to the mountains. as going south was to have much of their numbers culled by the fort K'Tale, Going to north will be seen in negative light by the folk--they must come through here or risk the mountain on those beast they ride--even then we could pincer them if they did so with reinforcements from K'Tale. We shall set trap and watch the horizon, Uilirythe, my forces will need the aid of your scouts men. [the forest middle right of map, under town 14]

Uilirythe smirked in pride "My men are as wind, should else wise occur you shall know."

Sitting down with a weary sigh "As per orders of the Listener, we must stress their capture...Uilirythe, we will need to barrow some of our toxins and claypot traps.

Uilirythe lets out a hazy chuckle and smiles as she moved to leave the room "Yes...let us find some of these heathens"

Old man Gestfro jumps to his weary feet and cracks the end of his staff to the table " For heavens future, for listeners peace. For He of action, For Her of thought--We act on gods design.--May She give you insight, may He inspire you to act--Telanth, MOVE OUT"

The room floods out with a zealous war cry.

The sisters Zesstra and Sabal turn to L'Charnag Delmah return and report to Qhymareth, he seemed pleased but for some other reason. Merrick on the other hand had a long road to get to the north of the folk, he knew it would be a stressful operation as he was all too alert to the malice he would suffer in that place. A mass force of warrior and magi move out to the northern forest as another small force goes to the south west with abnormally long staves cloaked in cloth. Flocking clergy move out to the Sarmin castle to construct a temple as those of the mason caste start to make a military worthy road pushing out to Sarmin, flat cobble stone and earthly blemishes are removed allowing for a smooth straight road.
 
EVENT: The Earth Quakes: Be it the act of gods, or the dying earth, the ground trembles causing the dirt to shift and rocks, perhaps to make way for some....dark monsters underneath, or perhaps it was simply the death moans of a tainted world. I can only hope it is the latter, though both bodes misfortune for all on this world. From my estimate the epicenter was somewhere in Exodite territories.-Unknown Scholar

EFFECTS: A 4.6 earthquake has rocked Havis. The epicenter was between settlements 14 & 15.
 
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Free Baoc
Mattog's Private Hunting Ground - Outside Ulmok, the Throne city (#14)
The forest stirred as bird flight filled the serene air. Golden light dappled into the brown, pine-needle covered ground. The soft breeze on his face, the curve of the land, and the owl's hoot in the distance was what Mattog, king of Baoc, was aware of. Every facet of this utopia was what he was conscious of, for only precious hours in the season when he arranged not to be disturbed. His life was property of his people. The hunt was his property.

Still good things come to end eventually. As the day ended so did Mattog's expedition, and by night, they arrived in Ulmok; Mattog's Throne city. The air smelled slightly of the sea, and behind them was gold and purple bands of the evening radiated from the setting sun over the bustling orcish settlement, her walls of massive rough stones only just finished.

"Your honor, You have a gift." said the castle guard simply. Mattog was presented with a Shield made of Obsidian, made beautifully by Sarmin hands. Whether magical in nature or simply carved was unclear. Mattogs eye's narrowed "Fun." he would say.

"Your honor?" the guard would question. Mattog grunted "What do you suppose Deathmantle intends by this? Is it a gift? A trick? Are strings attached? Do I want to find out - and risk angering them by trying?" there was a long silence...

"Put it on display in the hoard, Caggar." The guard, Caggar, obeyed, taking it from Mattog to the vault-like hoard, where royal gifts and national treasures are kept. "

Mattog moved then to the window, but after one step toward it, a heart-thumping growl enveloped the land... The earth shook, wobbling back and forth as though trying to buck people off of it!

As alarm bells were heard, the world returned to it's usual stillness. Mattog would be told in the following days that the earthquake was most likely natural, but felt just as strong in the city of Crog (#15), as far north as the city of Jorrigtarn (#13), and rumored to be felt as far south as Sarmin, though this is unknown. Some priests even claimed it the result of monsters from the underworld. Mattog was troubled by this despite his best advisors rationalist view of the event. He called for a report on city Ulmok's greatest Magus's, in an ettempt to research this phenomenon more deeply...
 
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Sillard grumbled angrily as he ascended the winding pathway through L'Charnag Delmah. "A duke with naught but two guards forced to walk, walk his way to a political meeting with fanatics. Built in the mountains... why? So you can blister your feet ascending to see some substandard buildings to naked gods? Savages..." The Jauntik duke lamented. First new tribute for a larger navy, then a Telanth temple in Novernary, of all places. The greatest stronghold Sarmin has ever known! Fool of a king! FOOL of a king!"

The duke continued his monologue as he ascended the pass, stepping carefully around puddles that reflected his sharp, hawkish features and dark hair. He frowned to see the accumulated dust on his coat, and brushed it off violently, as if it was a spider or a scorpion instead. "Taxes, sacrilege, and now earthquakes. Scare away half the workers in the already half empty mines. Why do the Drells always find the greatest prospects..." The duke cut short as he passed a small band of Children on their way down the pass, forcing a twisted, ugly smile onto his face only to drop it the moment the last one went by.

"At least it's spring, on the ground, at least." He growled. "Bands of ex-soldiers, arrogant mercenaries and presumptuous, over-armed farmers are probably making their way across the border right about now, heading to Highmourne and Saurian lands to steal whatever guns and cannons they have, and get revenge for the years of raids. Most will be killed, for sure, but some will bring back some guns, and each one is a step closer to creating weapons equal to those in the alliance." Sillard licked his lips. "If only I could mine the powder and sell it, such a profit would surely bring back House Jauntik."

The guards and accompanying servants, meanwhile, pretended to not hear his aloud ramblings. They had long since grown used to the posh, egotistical duke's talk. Mercifully, however, they reached one of the gates. "Now where is that damnable seal? by Luck one of these fool peasants didn't drop it along the way..."
 
L'Charnag Delmahs' over city that met the sky riddled with minor cracks and damage from the ground-shake that had occurred some time ago, mason caste workers hustle with an inspired movement to return the city to normality however the other towns save for the fort city K'tale where in some slight ruin but repairs were underway. A massive force moved silently across the land, Small battalions of 400 or so Talenth loosely slither across the forested path, over rolling hills and crawling across rocky base of the mountains growth. This forest slowly was made into a death trap, Claypot traps hidden in the brush and over head of tress filled with powdered sleeping drug and acidic spore that would blistered the mouth and lungs--but not cause death less the effected stressed their bodies, to the mountains Ruuaans heavy javelin bladebow Battalion of 1000 ensuring punishment should invading forces would linger too close to mountains ridge while the forest two brigades of 3500 were spilt to the north and south both to keep eyes and ears on all the happenings within the forest and give aid to the north should it be the target as the south could get aid from either L'charnag Delmah or K'tale.

This time the Telanth would be ready for their riders and once pushed would lead a massive counter raid thus did forces both of those welding bow or dagger ready themselves for the grand rebuke. Within these many movements of forces a small unseen band slipped out to fade away into the fray, clad in draping cloaks woven with bushes and leaf's as to blend them into the forest. Omitted from light they slunk along shadows going south west inching closer to the boarder. Shuffling across they move out to the land of the court folk.
 
In Saurian territories the earth trembled and shook, making the animals act unnaturally anxious. However that only lasted a day or so. After the animals calmed down it was work as normal. Shive send out the messages to all other Clan Matriarchs for a meeting about how they've been acting of late, but no replies have been issued as of yet. She can only hope that the search for a Highmourne diplomat is going better then her trying to call upon the Clan Matriarchs. If things do not go smoothly, Shive might need to take drastic action and set an example of the other less loyal clans, though that will hopefully never come to pass.

Away from her home, a lone Saurian rider rides up to the walls of a Highmourne city, marvelling at the many airships flying around. The Dwarves have great technology, and never ceases to amaze the young girl. Still the Saurian wasn't here for site-seeing, she was here on a mission, to recruit a Highmourne diplomat in order to bring back for her Clan Matriarch.

Having long since received the letter requesting one, the Highmourne had dispatched their best diplomat to meet the young Saurian at the gates of the city. An old dwarf, with beard bejewelled and dragging along the floor, was surrounded by his retinue as the Saurian showed up. There wasn’t any need to check if this was the right one. The Saurian’s rarely, if ever, strayed from their little tribes. With a grunt, the old diplomat steps forward to greet her. “‘Ah s’posse yer the Saurian messenger sent ta guide me, then?” His head bows, a single eye peering from beneath white, incredibly bushy eyebrows.

"Uh....yes" Replied the young woman. "I am called Paza, from the clan of Bethyi. I am here to guide you to the Clan Meeting." Paza has never seen a dwarf before. She knew they were short, but not that short. The man wore many jewels and had his beard touching the ground, which she couldn't really take her eyes off. It was rather strange, to allow one's hair grow that one. "I...do not think you would not bring a mount. It will take a few days, so do you think it wouldn't be nessisary for you and your warriors to bring horses or mules?" She asks.

The dwarf looks up at her, a small chuckle on his lips. “Lass, this yer first time with us Dwarves? We don’t ride. We sail. Ye’ll be coming with us in a ship, and it shouldn’ take more than a day.” He tells her jovially, before offering his hand in traditional Dwarven greeting. She should know at least how to respond that much. “Torric Bowforged, at ye service.” He says to her.

Paza hesitated to grab onto the Dwarf's hand, but in the end it would be an offense to the dwarf if she didn't take it. She dismounts and grabs the hand, but wasn't sure what to do next, so she kept hold it it. "Uh...Paza.....Bethyi. At..your service as well Torric."

The experienced diplomat couldn’t help but smile. It was a little insulting, for the Saurians to have sent a newbie, but he supposed they all needed to start somewhere. Releasing her hand after three powerful shakes, he turns and lets out an ear piercing whistle. From the streams of ships flowing into and out of the city, Marl, a single small scoop detaches and swiftly reaches the ground level, pulling alongside them. As a ramp is pushed down by the ship’s crew and Torric waited for his men to load up, he looks towards Paza. “Don’t suppose ye’ve ever sky sailed before?”

Paza shakes her head. "I've been on a boat before, but it sailed on the water, not flew in the skies. Only our most veteran warriors were allowed to fly upon Pterosaurs" She said before walking onto the ramp. The wood felt...floaty in a way, as she caustionly stepped onto the ship hoping that the floor underneath her doesn't break.

Torric felt a small smirk rising as he watched he Saurian board their ship. The first time was always a treat, but it was rare to see one so old step foot onto a skyship for the first time in Highmourne culture. It was an almost funny experience. Once everyone was boarded, the ship wasted no one in taking off. The sail unfurled, glittering with golden light, and with a whoosh of air they took off into the sky to join the stream of ships above. They were bound for the Saurian meeting.
 
King Kallum, the leader of House Deathmantle and ruler of Sarmin, coughed up a mouthful of mucous and blood.

"One hundred and seven, Orran, can you believe it?" The king asked, staring into the stained, wadded handkerchief.

"One hundred and fourteen, by my count. You forget yourself, only ever thoughts for the kingdom. Traits for a great ruler, but truly wretched life. A life you force me to prolong even now." Orran chuckled grimly. His hands trembled from exhaustion, and his brow was covered in sweat. His mana was utterly spent.

They both stood on an upper balcony of the mountainous castle of Novenary. The world stretched out far before them, the villagers below like little ants, and the hills and mountains laid out for all to see. Though the stairs and halls made the room adjoined nearly inaccessible in the labyrinthine castle, the pair enjoyed the view it afforded. Silence reigned between the two men, interrupted on occasion by the loud cry of a merchant far below or a child screaming in play.

"Fleshcrafting, yes. An unfortunate necessity, but the empire needs to be held together, at least through this next war. Manipulate flesh and bone and blood like metal and stone and water, and heal or destroy. Perhaps it will only work for another few years, perhaps another hundred, but the empire must stand." Kallum spoke somberly of the taboo practice. It was one that only the best mages could manage, and even then, use for anything other than pure destruction was nearly impossible. Orran was perhaps one of the few capable of such a task in the entire kingdom, and even for him, it was taxing beyond measure. Fixing such a decaying body to a man in his fifties or so, it was an uphill battle. Few knew about it, and those that did rarely pursued the twisted practice, thankfully.

"A disgusting practice, to be sure. It spits in the face of everything the gods stand for." Orran remarked, watching down upon the city.

"I'll be judged by the citizens in this life, and the gods in the next. The empire is all that matters. Thousands of years of history, it all falls to me to keep it alive in these dangerous times." Kallum responded. "It's why we look for these unlikely allies. Anything to survive."

"I assume you heard of the welcoming our unlikely allies gave Duke Sillard, then?" The adviser replied with a slight smile. 'Greeted with a flesh-carved behemoth and dozens of nocked arrows? Must have been quite the sight to scare him away from his usual pride, and get him to plaster propaganda throughout the city. 'Beware the dark ones! The shadows are not your friend! Inhuman blasphemers walk your streets! We are but sacrifices for them, resist!'" Orran chucked darkly. "It's been almost comical, with posters on every street corner."

"Yes, but strikes in the dockyards, not allowing the Telanth ships to be built? The harassment of Telanth throughout the city, all but halting construction of the temple? The bards can hardly find a place to play without having stones thrown at them by half the passerby. Is that quite so comical?" Kallum asked, his tone more serious. "What do I tell the Whispered Children when they ask about the ships, their people, the temple, why every caravan to them is delayed, and why half never even arrive?"


"Welcome to Sarmite politics." Orran replied flatly.

"Yes, helpful. That will be sure to smooth over the promises." Kallum said dryly.

"We set the stone in motion, and they were the ones to halt it. Let them set it in motion once more. The 'boogeymen of the night' can fix this issue themselves. You even gave them the warning that something like this might happen. They danced with a duke, and came out bruised and battered, And now they choose to dance with three more? They underestimate us. You treated them far too kindly in our meeting."

"Two more, Orran." The ancient king corrected. "Lizarin declined the offer. Apparently the stories of the Jauntiks frightened him too much, and he forbade any kind of a meeting. Vill and Thaym, though, as their next two choices? Thaym still hasn't acknowledged the offer, even, and Vill only bothered to send a diplomat instead of going themselves. Perhaps I did treat them too kindly. I fear they're digging themselves a political grave."

"Only time will tell. Perhaps we may find ourselves in bed with stranger allies than the Telanth by the time the storm comes."
 
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