18+ We Are Legion

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

We Are Legion

Seraak, ever since life has sprawled upon the world, war has come with it, great leaders and civilizations bringing their might to face each other in an endless tide of total war.

A new age has dawned upon the denizens of this realm, and new players have emerged from the shadows, setting their pieces upon the table.

In the west, the mighty Rhyfelwyr, a people of cunning and ambition, prepared to do anything to ensure the continuation of the people, and the glory of their empire.

To the east, the Blackveil Covenant, their hordes of warriors battle-cries can be heard all over the land, demanding respect and inciting fear to any hearing it.

Besides the Blackveils, a sundering kingdom, The Mercer Supremacy, they have known the bitter taste of war better than any others, many secrets lies surrounding the royals of this nation, tales of demons and beasts, but none bears the proof against this.

In the northern islands, the Iron Sovereignty, masters of the sea, it is said they are birthed upon the ships, there are no stronger fleets than theirs upon Seraak.

To the south, the elves of the Arcsosiceni, none know wealth better than them, their cities filled to the brim with the precious metals, hiding behind the cover of Rhyfelwyr, but cautiously planning their ascension.

And final, the mystical kingdom of the Firebrands, the Grand Imperium, ruling their kingdom with arcane power, as well as the cloaked blade, their people hunger for knowledge and power, and look in dangerous directions for these things.

These are the players, their kingdoms ready for what next will come, only they decide what will, will Seraak be united under one banner? Or will they be engulfed in a tide of total war?

 

[Derath_farseer]

The streets of Raven rock are awash in movement, sailors work on loading and unloading their trading vessels, ranging from silk and spices, to metals and gems. The mages walk the streets, and the general populace makes it a point to avoid their path. For fear of punishment for their "sinful ways" which ended up being a heavy fine that was meant to go to the kingdoms treasury but more then once they simply pocketed the gold. This was the normal in raven rock and most of the kingdom, the strong would always rule while lesser men would have to suffer under them. A fact that was so common knowledge in the kingdom that few questioned it any more, for if any man no matter his rank could rise him self up.Even the slaves who darted the streets completing tasks for this overlords held onto some hope that one day they them selves or their children could one day join noble class.

At the center of the sprawling city rests the home of the God King Einarr. A massive tower that dwarfs the rest of the city's buildings. Only those Einarr trusts or his family allowed to enter the upper levels of the tower,, while the bottom layers are left for training the kingdoms elite including the order of Seekers.
In the higher levels Ashley Firebrand meets with her father after being summoned.
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Ashleys kept her head raised as she walked the halls distance family members offer a greeting as she moves past them, which she responds in kind a smile bright on her face she was loved by most of the Firebrand family, and even those that harbor her ill will are wise enough not to provoke her wrath, besides her father she might be one of the strongest mages in the kingdom mastering most of the branches of magic and earning her a position has a commander of the Imperiums forces, and diplomat when dealing with sensitive issues.

As she reached Einarrs personal chambers a familiar figure leans against the door outside Arlen firebrand, The oldest living son of Einarr and commander of the navy. He barely nods a hello as she steps inside Einarrs chambers.
The walls are lined with book selves filled with hundreds of books all neatly organized alphabetically, a good portion of them written by Einarr him self, on magical theory and the benefits of magic in every day life. Besides that the room holds very little personal touch, it might even be confused with a library if it wasn't for the bad in the corner, and a work station which King Einarr sat at. He sat signing documents hunched over wearing a simple shirt stained with ink and other materials.

Ashley stood opposite of him as she waited for him to finish writing, she let her eyes wander, looking at her fathers newest project. A small glass circle with moonstone housing it, which she could only guess at the purpose of. When she turned back Einarr sat looking up at her, a scroll pushed across the table.
"Orders for the seekers. they'll be joining a merchant ship heading towards Gold Shore. Every thing else is written inside." Einarr says wile dipping his quill and signing another document and pushing it towards her.
"And this.. is a request for you to visit the schools of magic in the elven kingdom, you'll be taking a gift of gold and slaves as a gesture of good will. Ten Seekers will be going with you one of which will stay with you as a guard, the other nine will spread out and report to me." His voice booked no argument but she felt her self wanting to speak up.
"Father.. If I may ask, why you're sending me to visit their second rate school?" While shes visited other nations from time to time she had yet to visit another nations school considering them flawed. Einarr on the other hand had a amused look on his face.
"They have their uses, while you might consider your self their betters you might just learn some thing. I visited many different schools of magic when I was your age, and most of them had at least a gain of wisdom in them. Also.. they're our largest supplier of moonstone if you happened to forget and I would rather keep our people on good terms." He adds while passing a copy of new newest book signed. "Also the mages there might enjoy my newest work, perhaps making you at least one friend there, You're dismissed." Ashley gave a bow and headed out making her way towards the High commander of the seekers to give him their orders. Ashley firebrand was used to such orders. It was common practice for the seekers to sneak into nations using the traders as a cover and hopefully they could find out some thing new of the covenant.

As she walked Arlan followed close behind.
"What did the old man have to say?" He whisped to her as they walked the halls, while he might not be the most loving of sons he new the risks of speaking out openly against his father, it wasn't by chance many of Einarrs children fell ill.
Ashley gave her older brother a small smile as she spoke.
"Why don't you ask him your self brother?" Her smile was hiding the insult as she knew her father hadn't summoned her brother in years. Arlans face grew tight as she entered a room shutting it behind her ending their little talk. She had to give out the orders and then sail out. It was going to be a interesting trip.

 

[Blitzz]

The cold winter breeze of Ustarax flowed freely through Telmor's long, black tangled mane. The sun was rising, and the sky glowed a brilliant shade of orange. Telmor stood, gazing from the highest window of the Palace, examining the stone spires that made up the city's skyline, intrigued. It crossed his mind often, questions he would ask of the Elven architects of Dawnhold if they were still around today. He felt there was so much they could have learned from them, if they were smart enough to have survived this long. Telmor let out a long sigh. His troubles had been making themselves known to him over the past few weeks. Crops were freezing in the North around Blackwall, and the Rhyfelwyr Empire had begun expansion to the continent recently, so he heard. With the Empire near and no trade, in or out, the Covenant would stand no chance against the overwhelming army of the Empire. They would be slaughtered like cattle.

Just as Telmor began to think about how long his mighty army could hold out, he felt a warm hand on his bare shoulder. "I didn't hear you enter, Vexela." His voice was deep, cold, uncomforting. "I did not want to wake you, my Lord, but I see you have been awake for some time. I apologize that I was not here when you awoke, Adelera was not well." Telmor sighed. "Sickly little thing, isn't she? Is it serious?"

"No, my Lord, it appears to just be a bug of some kind." Telmor still had not turned to look his wife in the eye yet. He continued to stare, fascinated, at the city below. "Leave me," he said, "I must get ready. After breakfast I am to attend yet another Council meeting, and apparently I have a special guest." Vexela's hand had slipped from his shoulder, leaving his olive skin at the mercy of the cold Northern air. He shivered slightly as the breeze took hold of him. There was a quiet shuffling, then the door clicking back in to place in the doorframe. Telmor stood, gazing from the window for a few minutes longer, before eventually ripping himself away from the blazing sky to dress.
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Telmor emerged from the shadows of his chambers dressed in an ornate blood red cloak, studded with small orange and red gems. He strutted down the wide halls like a peacock, his footsteps echoing as he went. As he walked, his brother appeared alongside him, unspeaking, clad in dark steel plates. They said nothing to each other all the way to the council room, before Telmor ordered him to stay outside. Nodding, Layich pushed the door out of Telmor's way, and made sure it shut quietly behind him.

Around the large oak table sat the entire council, and, much to Telmor's surprise, Lord Frinnin Caelar of Eriel sat at the head of the table. The council rose, but Lord Caelar stayed seated. They all turned to look at him, staring expectantly, but Telmor waved them all back into their seats. There was an awkward silence as Telmor studied the massive papyrus map sprawled out in front of him as the Council gazed on. Camika Albure and Astira Faucia whispered incessantly in each other's ear, before Lord Frinnin's loud cough broke the silence and drew Telmor's attention. "Can I help you, my Lord?" said Telmor in a wickedly mocking voice. Frinnin continued to gaze at the end of her nails before bothering to respond. "Actually, yes, you can. Otherwise I wouldn't have made the journey here, my Lord," she said with an equally mocking tone. She met his stare, her piercing blue eyes breaking through the shield of golden hair that covered most of her face. "It's Eriel, again. Not two nights ago our scouts found a hideout, hidden in the cave systems to the North." Telmor cut in, "The Auroran Caves?" He looked worried. "No," said Lord Frinnin, sternly. "They found plans, reports. Someone's been busy." Telmor looked curious, glaring straight into Frinnin's eyes as if trying to decipher their meaning. All of the Council members stared with equal interest. "Banners, baring the sigil of Mallich. From what we can decipher, they are planning to take Eriel City in the coming Spring." Faucia's eyes widened. Telmor took a moment to absorb this revelation, calculating. "And what do you propose?" Telmor sounded as though he was certain of what the answer would be. "I am not sure, my Lord. Eriel's army barely numbers 35,000, and 10,000 of them belong to House Mallich. With the element of surprise, we wouldn't stand a chance." Her response appeared to rock Telmor to the core. Commander Gavicia piped up. "My Lord, we must act. Send the 3rd Stormblade Battalion to Eriel. The numbers will surely turn the tide of the war in our favor." Telmor whirled round to face his general. "And how do you propose we get these men to Eriel, Commander? Teach them to fly?" Lord Frinnin let out a small, feminine giggle. "We don't have the ships to cross them to Eriel. All we have are trade ships, and they are currently anchored in Winterport!" Telmor stared down at the table, and then looked up as if seeking advice from the heavens. "Use what we have," he muttered. "Pick them apart with the troops we have, but don't make it obvious that we're on to them." He let out a long sigh. "Lord Caelar, you are dismissed." She stared, unimpressed, before letting her face twist into a half-smile. She got up and strode out. Telmor waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade before returning to the rest of the Council.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" It was apparent that Telmor had grown impatient. Each took it in turn to present a problem. Stockpiles were getting low in many of the regions. Telmor ordered rations to be introduced until the Spring. The army's recruitment rates had fallen, so Telmor ordered them to accept boys as young as 19 now. They were running out of horses and Drakes, so Telmor ordered extra teams to be set up to capture more, as well as orders for wolves to train for battle. The final problem that Telmor had to deal with was the lack of income. The Covenant had no relations whatsoever with outside Kingdoms. It was beginning to prove a rather restricting policy.

Among the other orders issued were extra farms to be built, another fortress to be built along the Felrax River near the border with the Mercer Supremacy. He also ordered all of the smiths in Blackwall and Dawnhold to begin crafting new armor for his personal guard, a mighty set of blood red plates that would withstand almost any blow. He would need at least 50, and they would need to be good. Apart from that, the Council were rather restrained, heaping books and reports upon him as per the usual, but holding back from their usual bickering. The meeting concluded on good terms, rather strangely, and Telmor left early to his chambers, catching glimpses of the majestic sun at its peak in the clouded winter sky through the stained glass windows as he went.


_________________________________________________________

Desiroy Autarbo, a true mountain of a man, stood proud as he watched his newest recruits sparring in the yard. Despite it's name, Summercrest stood small under the clouded winter sky. The clashing of steel resounded throughout the inner reaches of the city as boys of no more than 20 hacked wildly at each other with a ferocity known by no other region. The Kolles Berserkers were yet to be tried in battle, but Autarbo was determined to see his latest creation at work. He was the newest of the Lords of the Covenant and the most ambitious. Since his appointment he had already improved the living conditions in the northern half of the thick jungle region. He was sure that sooner or later, Lord Telmor would recognize his work. He was torn from his thoughts as he heard a boy scream, and looked to see a wide-eyed, muscular man standing over a fellow recruit. He could tell the Berserker drugs were working well; fresh blood flowed from a deep chest wound, a large cut ran down the man's face, and three of his fingers had recently been relieved of their duties. He smiled and called for a stop to the fight. He gazed proudly at the blood on the dirt floor, and called for the next set of recruits to come into the arena.

_________________________________________________________

Kristoph and Zaravon exchanged blows in the Keep's courtyard as a proud Vexela watched on. The Udiryan boys were tall, handsome, brave, strong. Kristoph had a hard time handling Zaravon, a boy of four years younger, a skilled swordsman. Telmor appeared next to Vexela, sighing deeply. The sunset had lit the sky on fire as the sun settled behind the mountains, casting an awe-inspiring red glow upon the city. Vexela could sense something was wrong. "What is it, my dearest?" Her voice was soft and soothing. "Eriel. House Mallich intend to march on Eriel City in the Spring." Vexela was stunned into silence, failing to come up with a reply before Carrelys arrived and took a spot on the balcony next to her mother as the boys fought on in the yard below. "Father!" An enthusiastic voice sounded from the yard below as Zaravon realized his father's presence. Ever the opportunist, Kristoph swung the blunt blade of his wooden sword into the back of Zaravon's leg, bringing the boy to his knees and drawing a chuckle from Carrelys and Telmor. "You should never turn your back on an opponent," said Kristoph. "But that's something you either learn and live, or don't and die." Telmor shook his head an looked once more to the crimson skies. He muttered under his breath, "It's going to be a long year."

 

[EpicVakarian]

Busy as the life of a monarch is, let it never be said that busy equates to boring; King At'dra Ferrian of the Iron Sovereignty had a far from boring life. Ruling one of the two smallest kingdoms on Seraak, and one with oft unpredictable weather, was never particularly easy.
Just now, for instance, he was having to deal with diplomatic issues that had arisen between the Sovereignty and the Blackveil Covenant to the east. At'dra had heard of their strong army; having a strong navy himself would only reinforce an alliance. Such an alliance was being brokered right now, using the marriage of two nobles; one from each kingdom. The Sovereignty was committing Prince An'ret Ferrian, the second son of the King, while the Blackveil Covenant was said to be putting forward their king's firstborn, his beautiful daughter Carrelys Udiryan. Her father, Telmor, the King of the Blackveil Covenant, was a secretive man who very rarely committed to diplomatic conversations between his kingdom and another; At'dra was proud of the fact that he could successfully ally himself with him.

"My king!" At'dra shook himself out of his thoughts, and glanced to where the voice was coming from. It was O'Ronnack, the foreign minister for the Sovereignty's affairs, running up the stairs toward At'dra's throne. "My king, King Udiryan sends his regards, and has decided that this alliance is now a certainty." O'Ronnack smiled, catching his breath. "If I may, sire, I would like to congratulate you on forging an alliance with the second most secretive man on Seraak."
"You may, Darreigh. I am as surprised as you are at how well this has turned out." At'dra clapped his hands together, leaning forward and gazing over his other ministers. "Right then, any other issues? Anything I need to decree before we are dismissed?"

O'Ronnack opened his mouth, then shut it again as if struggling to decide whether to say what he was thinking.
"What is it, Darreigh?"
"If I may, sire, it should wait until we are alone but for your guards."
"Right." At'dra didn't like the sound of that, but he looked over the rest of his ministers. Robbart Burleigh, agricultural minister, stepped forward.
"My king, the council have reported one of the finest sowing seasons in living memory. We should have no problem with food next winter."
"Good, good. Let us hope they can support that all year round until harvest. Well, unless there's anything else?"

The ministers all left, along with the rest of court, except for O'Ronnack.
"Now, Darreigh, what is it?"
"Well, sire, you obviously know of the trade deal with the Mercer Supremacy?"
"We send them ships and iron, a little steel, and they send us back whatever they can spare, so they can keep fighting the damned Rhyfelwyr?"
"Uhm, yes, my king. Well, the Supremacy's ambassadors have reported that it is not enough. They need allies to fight the Empire, not supplies."
"And they're hoping we can be those allies?"
"Yes, my king."
At'dra sighed, stroking his bushy beard, deep in thought.
"Tell them no for now. Tell them to go to the Covenant if they need an army; I will not plunge our country into war unless it is absolutely necessary."
"Yes, my king." O'Ronnack bowed deeply, and strolled away.

At'dra leaned back in his chair, wiping his brow and sighing. He was dreading the inevitable moment that the Empire discovered his part in the Supremacy's war effort, and brought the Sovereignty into the fight as well. He grimaced to himself before standing up and heading off to his chambers. His queen, Yerale, was waiting for him.
"Everything alright, love?"
"Yes, dear," At'dra said wearily, "Everything's fine."

-El'eia-​

El'eia Ferrian, third child of At'dra and Yerale, was not a normal woman. She was currently stood beside her elder brother An'ret, aboard one of the Sovereignty's flagships, the ship of the line The Century. Although most men would consider women to be bad luck aboard ships, the men of the Iron Sovereignty followed no such idiotic superstition. El'eia was currently shadowing her brother, the captain of the Century, to learn how to captain her own ship in a few years. An'ret was a good teacher, but was often brash, as was expected of a 24-year-old man only three years a captain.​

The silence among the two siblings was irritating El'eia, so she thought of something to say.​

"So, you'll be a married man soon, brother."​

"It certainly seems so," said An'ret, "I can only hope that this daughter of King Telmor is as beautiful and kind as they say she is."​

"What's her name again? Cerylis? Carryliss?"​

"Carrelys." He spoke the name as if she was already his wife.​

"Strange name."​

"Only to us," An'ret said wisely. "To them, our names must sound just as strange as theirs do to us."​

"Sometimes, brother, I wonder how old you really are."​

An'ret chuckled, keeping his hands on the ship's wheel.​

"Sometimes, sister, I wonder whether you're actually a woman under that body, and not a man in disguise."​

​

The banter went on for some time, until the Century was brought in to dock at Bluegate.​

"Well done, brother."​

"Shall we find a carriage to take us home to mother and father? I'm sure they'd like to see us."​

"Deal," El'eia said mischievously, "But don't expect any niceties along the way!" This was how the siblings got along; with teasing, mock rudeness, and banter like back on the Century. To be honest with herself, El'eia was dreading her brother's marriage. She had always been close to An'ret, and she believed that Carrelys would be enough to distract him from sailing. An'ret was brash because he often had to be, to let him perform naval acts that most captains would pale at, such as sailing across a whirlpool over three miles wide, simply by judging the current perfectly and getting thrown out of the other side unharmed. With a wife and possible child, An'ret would most likely calm down, and try to stay alive rather than perform amazing acts like that one; he might become a worse captain. She forced herself to stop thinking like that; she hoped Carrelys would be nice enough, and would be fine with An'ret risking his life for the Sovereignty.​

Because if she wasn't, then their marriage might set a new record of the shortest diplomatic alliance of all time.​

 

[Blackdoom59]

Acenath, a maze of a city with towers built of gold and glass, left for the sunlight to reflect rays upon the horizon. A city of nobles, wealthy merchants and the higher class of society, elves that drink the finest drinks, and taste the most succulent meat while gazing at the wonderful paintings of the world that come and go from the outside world. Also, a city of slaves, for all of the glamorous constructions were build by the hands of oppressed men. For each statue, tower or palace, there are twice as many boarding houses, where the slaves can't do anything but to drench in their own sweat, sacked together like bundles of butchered meat, left to be eaten or until it rots out.

So rich, the noblemen of Acenath barely keep the slaves fed, and punish each man that refuses to work. The large Palace of Chariots works as a museum, with shrines dedicated to the elven gods, paintings from corner to corner, and for each noble that wonders the halls, there are 5 guards that maintain the peace. The Lord Regent of the Arcosicieni, Aqer Sunslfy who served the king like an obedient dog, now sits upon his throne, with his former master's blood upon his teeth. His robes are made of the finest silk in all Seraak, and the jewels that hang from them are flawless. But even for an elf, Aqer is extremely old, his long hair and tall beard cover most of the riches on his clothes, and the only thing that makes him seem younger is the Glass Crown. Many thoughts flew trough his mind, the elves kept demanding imperial territory in the south, and the empire demanded the elven fleets and armies to fight off the rebels. However the elves were tired, too many wars have ruined this once great race, war is not an option. The Arcosiceni have to maintain the reputation of the most wealthiest kingdom in all of Seraak, and that is hard to do when the colonists demand better equiment and more trained men. Sitting upon his throne with his head tired upon his hand, he notices a familiar figure approaching – an clad in glass armor, with the shoulders and the chest made out of gold and moonstone. His dark hair is cut short, and his physique was suited for the armor he wore., with his grey skin tattered and scarred by the old wars.

This man is Arcanicus Arcos, the killer of kings, the butcher usurper, a man of many titles that dosen't let anything stand in his way. “How fares the day, your grace?” he asks, while Aqer removes the head from his hand as he chuckles “I am a regent not a king, Arcanicus” he raised from his glass throne “The king died at your hand, in case you've forgotten”. Arcanicus begun circling around the throne “The merchants have heard rumours, it seems that The Covenant has quite the elven population. Besides that, we know almost nothing, the men of the Covenant are too secretive for their own good.” Aqer grunted, the news were unexpected, to say the least “If there are elves in the north, then they must be maintained by us! Send an emissary, trade gold for one us to work as a ministry.” Arcanicus raised an eyebrow “I'd rather go myself, an emissary is easily scared by the hilt of the blade. Besides, we should reform the trading routes with the Imperium, I'll go to Raven Rock, then make my way to Dawnhold.”. Aqer certainly didn't expect a member of the Arcos would be willing to travel so much “The path is dangerous, the Imperium, or the Blackveils could take you prisoner, or worse, we should-” Arcanicus stopped the regent “I have the blood of the kings, unlike you, they will dare not touch me, and if they do, their skin will be melt away until only ash remains on the ground!”. Aqer stood shocked, seeing him getting so worked up, but Arcanicus calmed himself down and finnished “I will depart as soon as I can, but I must talk with my sister first. You should make sure the Jewel is kept safe” Aqer nodded. There was a shift in the air, and something was wrong with Arcanicus.


The fleet of Sekenia stood docked trough the stormy weather, the sailors drinking all the wine and enjoying times of peace. Victor, however, didn't join the parties on the lower decks, and instead he trained his archery. His blood was boiling as he fired arrows in the practice yard on Seken. He was dressed from head to toe into a light leather armor with moonstone accents, him being yet a rookie to the crew. None of his arrows missed the mark, all hitting the center. He focused on shooting the faraway targets when a warm, friendly touch on the shoulder made him lower his bow. “What are you doing here Victor? Come join the lower decks, they are filled with human wenches and elvish wine!” it was Victor's friend, Cameron, a half elf from south Arken, loyal to the Arcosiceni. “I don't feel like partying Cameron...” said Victor as he took the shot to a the farthest away target, hitting it in the center. Cameron looked at him questioningly “I never saw you so serious, or shooting so well...Is..something wrong? We're sworn brothers, you can tell me anything!” Victor nodded and grabbed the head of one of his arrows. As he rubbed his fingers together he cut himself into the pointy end, and drips of blood wet the arrowhead. Victor then loaded the same arrow on the bow and aimed for the high sea. Just a moment later, the arrowhead burst in flames as Victor released the arrow, and when the arrow met the ocean it made a flash of fire before being drowned in flames.

“You know magic!” Cameron exclaimed, but Victor placed his hand on Cameron's mouth. “Quiet!” he gasped “I want to be a sailor, that's why I signed up, not a mage that's worried about casting spells. You have to keep this a secret, alright?” Cameron was shocked, if he had such a talent, he would have immediately embraced it. He nodded, and then changed the subject “They say we leave tomorrow, were are we headed?” he asked, unsure of the course “The Ironborn Islands, the captain has to talk about trading reforms..and other things.” said Victor as he shot another arrow. “What trading reforms? And do we need an entire fleet to make it to Syros?” Victor nodded, then loaded two arrows on his bow, each aiming for a separate target. “We do, the north seas are dangerous, especially in times of war. I have no clue about those reforms, direct order from the navy cheif” he shot both arrows, one hit the center of a target but the other one barely made it to the side. Cameron swayed his long hair back from his eyes as a breeze of wind moved the leaves away “That Arcos fellow? I remember when he was inspecting the ship, he always gazed at you for some reason.” Victor raised an eyebrow “I might be handsome, but I doubt the Kingslayer wants my ass, he has that cheating little wife of his.” Cameron let out a chuckle “I doubt he was looking for you for those reasons. Anyway, let's get back to the ship, it's getting cold out here.”



In the warm Desert of Shadya, the colonists start training more and more troops. The desert air is filled with recruit sweat. Carl of the Desert, leader of the colonists, is gazing upon the horizon, only to see a sea of sand that drowns people into it. The colonial army has 40 frigates as well as 20,000 men, a growing number. Carl convinced his leaders that he needs more men to fight off the redguard clans from the desert. But that was a lie, and a good one, for the tribesmen are few, and they refuse to attack the colonies. Carl wants an army for his own good, he wants to conquer all of Shadya, and more.

“We brought you a tribesman, as you requested, serrah!” a solider shouts from a relatively short distance, breaking Carl's thoughts. His glass armor was now filled with sand, and the sand fell off as he was walking towards the captive. “Chinkaras elf, trokuga carves!” the tribesman muttered his language as he spat in Carl's face, but his mouth was closed by one of the guards who punched his stomach, bringing him to his knees. Carl's left hand was circled by rays of red magic, and those rays soon turned to a bolt, that was launched at the tribesman. “From what clan are you?” Carl asks, swaying the spit from his face. “Go to hell, you pointy eared plops! You won't get nothing from me!” he tried spitting again but Carl grabbed his mouth as he moved his dagger towards the redguard's ear. “How many people are in your clan?” the redguard started laughing, his voice muffled by Carl's hand “As many as your mother's affairs!”, Carl sliced his ear apart, then brought the dagger to the redguard's neck. “Where is the leader of your clan?” his voice was more serious, showing off Carl's anger. “fl*ff your ass, you bastard!” the redguard shouted, his voice making all of the recruits turn their heads upon the scene. Carl removed the dagger from the tribesman's neck, and order the guards to let him raise from the ground. Then he turned his back to the redguard “Make sure he talks”. The redguard struggled away from the guards and shouted once more. “You're a whoreson, a bastard! I won't talk to the likes of you!” Carl clenched his teeth and turned to the man once more, then charged at him, sticking his dagger in the redguard's dong. The redguard started shouting out of pain “Don't ever call me... a bastard again” he said as he sliced all of the private parts away, sheathing his blooded dagger and making for his tent.

 

[Blitzz]

"What?" Telmor's reply to the news was reserved, compared to what Layich was expecting. "WHAT?" shouted Telmor, louder and clearly enraged. Layich stood, shuffling in his place, nervously."How on earth can they know this? How do they know I have a daughter, how do they know of our strength, how?" He threw his arms up in a rage, and hurled a book from his desk across the room so that it smacked hard against the wall of his chambers. He looked won at the ground. "Assemble the Council, Layich. We need to discuss this." Layich nodded. "Yes, my Lord." He began to back slowly out of the room, rolling up the scroll as he went. Telmor screamed in anger, letting his voice present his emotions as it sounded through the halls.

___________________________________________________________

The Council looked grim as Layich read the scroll aloud. When he had finished, they turned and looked at Telmor. "Would anyone care to tell me how they know what they know? I've never even heard of these people, this, Iron Sovereignty." They looked confusedly at one another, each trying to pin the blame on another. "My Lord, if I might suggest," a frightened Julitina Arventius spoke feebly from the end of the table. Telmor turned to look at her. "This is exactly what we need. I have monitored these people closely. They are a rich, resourceful people with an incredible navy. They can strengthen our forces where we are weak. They can provide for us, as we can for them. They are a rich people, their iron will provide thousands of swords for our soldiers. We need this alliance, and you know it." Telmor glared at her, curious, and defeated. "But... my daughter..." He seemed lost for words. "It is the right decision my Lord. You must at least consider it." He looked his Minister. She had never been as bold as to openly tell him right from wrong. He accepted defeat, and the arrangements were made for Layich, Kristoph and Carrelys to sail with 500 men to the lands of the Sovereignty. If there was to be a wedding, Telmor had to know what he was getting himself into first. There was to be another arrangement, however. Telmor had realized that if he was to survive in world like this, he would need support. Strong allies, aside from the Sovereignty. Ambassadors were to be sent with 20 guards to the capital of the Mercer Supremacy, and to the capital of the Firebrand's territory. War was coming, Telmor could smell it on the wind, and for the Blackveil Covenant to survive the dark years to come, he was certain that it was time to break the silence and open up to other Kingdoms. It was time to swallow his stubbornness and pride. It was time to seek help.

 

[Derath_farseer]

The ships left one after another, few people took notice of the trading vessel leaving the docks. Planning to attempt to dock at the Gold Keep, under the pretense of trade. The ship was a plain enough vessel having very little that would stand out amongst others. Its lower decks held slaves shackled, and bound waiting to be sold off to the highest bidder, and bellow them sat magical trinkets and other sought after luxury items. The captain stood at the helm looking over the calm sea waters, glancing every once and a while towards the five armed men standing alone towards the bow of the ship. They dressed in simple leather armor with a cloak thrown around their shoulders, their faces hidden by masks of varying patterns. The captain always felt uneasy around these types, they kept to them selves and hardly said two words to him or the crew. The rumors about them and their order did little to help their mood, the elite of the kingdom, loyal to no one but the king and would gladly take their own lives if the God King demanded. That and their uncanny ability to appear out of thin air gave them a feared reputation.

Days passed, the ship drew close to Gold Keep, the five masked men slipped into the seas and swam towards an empty stretch of land, as they made their way up the beach they gave each other a curt nod before making their way into the heart of the Covenant. Their appearance shimmering as they took on the look of simple travelers, armor turning into plain clothing, and their masks into perfectly average faces ranging from young adults to old men and women.

On the trading vessel the captain breathed a sigh of relief as he waves for his men to signal to the port asking to dock.
"Now.. Might as well try to earn a bit of coin from all this nonsense." He said to him self as he tried to spot the seekers with out any luck. ((occ, feel free to handle the trading if you want.))

-------------------------------------------------------------
Ashleys Vessel

Ashley sat in her personal cabin, it was easily the largest room on the ship filled with a great deal of things to pass the time if she grew board, which she found her self becoming as the days passed. She filled her time sparring with the seekers traveling with her, or hunched over books she found interesting, many of which went over the history of the elves she was tasked to visit.

The ship came up on the elven kingdoms capital sailing into the docs. Ashley dressed her self in her finest dress that showed off her attractive figure wile leaving just enough for the imagination to fill in the blanks. She looked over her self in her minor and allowed her self a smile, if what she was told was true she inherited her good looks from her mother, who she never had the chance to meet as she strangely fell ill after Einarr took her as his newest bride. One of her favorite features all though was her eyes some thing that came from her father, who was by no account ugly even in his old age. Even when his skin started to wrinkle and his skin sag, his eyes always remained youthful, with a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate your soul.

As she left the ship towards the home of the elven king she was flanked by the seekers, then behind a number of slaves carrying her items and gifts to the king. Wandering eyes watched them as they made a path through the streets and few where unwise enough to be in their way. They entered the castle and asked for a meeting with the king.

 

[Blackdoom59]

In her private room, Lady Diana Arcos, Interior Ministry of the Arcosiceni, is having a discussion with her beloved brother, who is swaying his hand trough her hair, while they both sit down on her bed. “Are you ready to go, sweet sister?” asked the kingslayer. A man like him cared for his family almost as much as he cared for his ambitions. Diana shared his blood, she was her only loved relative, of all the bastard cousins and their wives. “I am. I will do what is necessary for our family, I always have. Who knows, the boy might be some fun after all” she said, jokingly. “Whatever the case may be, you'll be a foreigner in a land ruled by warriors...But you will always have me at your side, regardless the scenario”. She smiled as he kissed her forehad. “I must leave, a long journey awaits me. Wait until Tranqil sends the crow, then depart for Arken as soon as you can.” he left the room in hurry. Raven Rock was far away, but the trip was necessary



In the lands of Syros, on the famed port of Bluegate, a merchant ship from the elves of Arcosiceni sets dock, with supplies of glass and moonstone. The rest of the fleet stood far far away from the city, covered in the mists. The ships weren't there from war, but to protect the merchants from the ongoing war between the Supremacy and the Empire. Piracy could just happen in war times, and the elves weren't ready to leave their ships wander unguarded. The Captain stepped away from the merchant ship, and went to a guard at the docks. “You there! On duty for the Iron Sovereignty?” the captain shouted at the guard. “Aye sir, did all my life. You a merchant?”. The captain chuckled. The guard was way younger then he was. He walked up to the guard and took the letter from his pocket. “Send this to your king, and let no other see it.” the guard raised an eyebrow and took the letter. “From who is it, sir?” the captain spoke as he returned to the ship “Lord Arcos, of the Arcosiceni Pact. Godspeed.”


In the cellars of The Palace of Chariots, the 500 men guardiang Velara Iceni, princess of the elves, all make the way for the Lord Regent to enter the room. She sat there on her chair, next to the candles she lit herself, not with matches, but with her own magic. Reading various books, about the kingdoms and kings of Seraak, about the raise and fall of the Empire, and about all the religions. She was to become queen, she needed to be a strong one. Aqer stood next to her, dared not look in her eyes. Valera hated him, for he exiled her underground, far away from the world she loved. She was happy, a blooming rose that was to be a good queen, but now she's sad, secluded and with no friends. Aqer took his sit right next to her and tried reading her book, but she rose from her chair and fell into her bed, without letting him approach. “How long until I take the throne?” she asked, and Aqer sighed. The little princess wanted to be a queen, but the elves won't let her until she comes of age. “9 years...5, if you grow up fast enough. It's a big responsability. You must be ready to to take the th-” she stopped him by slamming her book on the floor “I am ready! I stand here and I study all day, I know everything there is to know about being a queen!” Aqer chuckled, and tried reaching for her arm, but she swayed him away “My Jewel, a ruler needs to be experienced enough if she is to rule properly. You waged no wars or made it trough any harsh times...you're but a child.” she grunted and rose from her bed “My father was old, experienced, yet he died, he failed to rule. He was weak. I think I proved my point.” Aqer stood surprised. He rose up and faced her “How could you talk like that about him!? He was your father, without him you wouldn't be here at this very moment!” She looked up at him and smiled “He was a poor father, and a poor ruler. Deserved what came to him.” Aqer waited for a couple of moments, but soon he burst with anger, and slapped the girl, whom fell onto the bed as tears rained down her eye. “He was my friend, and I haven't seen a better ruler since the day I was born! If he was here, you would have loved him, respected him. Even after his death, you killed your mother, the queen of the elves, when she gave birth to you! I can't believe your life was traded for hers, you pathetic little creature with no respect!” She begun crying. Aqer got out of the room, and slammed the door on his way. He spoke with one of the guards “Make sure the books are publishes about Riendal. Showing her what kind of man he was. I can't believe this kid turned out this way...”.



Jenaar an argonian slave in Acenath is said to be one of the eldest and most experienced schemers in the world. Before he was sold into slavery, he was the leader of thieves and assassins, terrorizing lands both cold and hot. But now he works underground, with a pickaxe in his hand, his hands and legs chained while the whip is on his back. Someone like him is the one to talk to if a slave revolt were to occur. “One year” he whispers to his colleagues, that's how much they have to wait until they sack Acenath. A year. But the revolt was coming, the slaves knew that, from all the 13 isles, there was to be war.

 

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

His body had begun to ache years back, but it was never this bad. The throne had been sent from Ilyn Duwau, the City of Gods, it had been the seat of the old kings of Arken, and it's discovery was considered a gift from the gods by many, especially the priesthood of Aslan, the God of war and conquest. It was built from every kind of mineral found in the mines of Arken, the seat was forged from scorched steel, giving it a dark, brazen look. Blood diamonds and red pearls decorated the throne, in the light they shone as the eyes of starving demons. Upon this throne, Cythraul of Rhyfelwyr now sat, the Emperor of Rhyfelwyr, dressed in the traditional adornment of his royal family, a long, dark green robe, held together by his waist by a leather belt, it's head in the shape of the deer of Rhyfelwyr, the patron animal of Cythraul's family. Upon his shoulders were padded pads of hardened leather, shaped into the form of claws, their long, sleek fingers clutching tightly onto his upper arms, a short sleeve of chainmail sliding down his arms from the space between the fingers, to end by his wrists, covered in rings of silver. He wore a brown, fur-lined robe, from the pelt of the Blackbears of Ba Gaer, it helped slightly to reduce the ache from the throne, but not enough. Upon Cythraul's head was the crown of Rhyfelwyr, forged in Norseg by the master smiths of Norseg, it was a set of three small branches of Gold Oak, immersed in a blend of steel and silver, making it a darker colour, but holding true to the initial form of the small branches form around his royal head, it was a small thing, not posh at all, yet it was an eternal reminder of the dominance of Arken, and of his glorious conquest of the continent.
His hair was cut very short, all his hair was grey or white, as was the stub of his beard. The dominant pale colour of his face contrasted greatly against his deep blue eyes, vividly looking through his hall to look upon the men gathered below him.

"What news comes from the east, Horus?" Cythraul's voice echoed through the hall, even though his old age had left his body weak, his voice was still strong as ever, and demanded respect from anyone who heard it.
"The 8th Legion has begun reparations of Coldlair, but the city is nothing more than a ruin my emperor, and the easterners are still defiant." Horus informed. The Senator of Military.

Cythraul sighed. "They will bow soon enough. What of Crowhold?"

"Crowhold fares better, the commander has begun marching east again, most of the saboteurs have been found and trialed, the remains are too few to do any true damage, and the people are on our side after the Slaughterhouse incident." Horus smiled proudly at this, and straightened his back as he stepped back.

Cythraul looked upon the other ministers, slowly turning his hand, the signal that others were allowed to speak.

Then Tranqil Vael stepped forward, the Senator tasked with diplomacy, as well as supervising the Elves of the southern provinces.
"Mighty emperor, the unrest of the elves has not stopped, three tax offices were looted by mobs this month alone. The news of the Arcosiceni kingdom's independence has urged their fighting, mobs of elves can be heard roaring the same thing on the streets: "No man can rule the true blood." At his last words, Tranqil attempted the stereotypical accent of the Elves, a poor display, but a chuckle could be heard from Prince Haearn.

Cythraul sighed again as he moved his hand up to rest his head upon, giving his first-born son an untempered glance of ill-will, and the chuckle died away instantly.
"All I have shown them is blood and defeat, no fool could think they would bow so easy, they are a proud people, that much can be said..." Cythraul paused, and straightened his back, moving his hand away to clutch to the armrest instead, before he looked back upon his Senator.
"Tranqil, you know more than any of us here of the Elves, what would stop this nonsense, without hurting their pride?"

Tranqil grinned slyly at this.

"If I may be so bold to say, the Elves are a strong race, a force to be reckoned with, and they are growing bolder and more fierce per day, as a lion-cub in a cage. As I see it, my liege, you must choose between either strangling the lion, or feeding it."
The Senators begun whispering and murmuring at this, and Prince Haearn even seemed to lend an ear to what was to be said next.

"Continue."

"The Elves believe us the enemy still, they still believe in... 'Good and Evil', they are good, and we are evil. Two factions competing. If you were to convince them this is not the case, and we are united in this, they would have no reason to continue these uprisings in Arken. Perhaps, a marriage..." Tranqil turned to look upon Haearn and Tancred, the two princes of Rhyfelwyr, both clad in their leather and chainmail.
"...Would make them realize this. The women of the Elves are true beauties, if an old man may say so himself."
Cythraul looked to his sons, Haearn with his short temperament, already screaming out objections, and then Tancred, the younger of the two, leaning to the wall, nervously scratching his neck as unheard words passed his lips.

"I see the merit in your proposal, Senator Tranqil. But no matter how beautiful the she-Elf could be, it cannot be. Rhyfelwyr has shown nothing but war and chaos to Elves. Will they simply forget their grudges and cheer for this marriage?"

"Forgive my Emperor. But their grudge is only with you. Your sons were too young to be part of the taking of Duwdeml. The uprisers would say it is a blow to your own pride, that your son takes an Elf as his wife, that the people you conquered, will soon rule the empire you fought so long to establish."

"I care little for what they think of me, as long as they kneel." Cythraul looked upon his sons.
"Send emissaries to the Arcosiceni. Tancred is to be wed to their daughter. To ensure the continued friendship of our nations, and bring with a shipment of silk, the damn Elves are so rich they would be offended if we gave gold."

The Senators chuckled at this, and Prince Haearn laughed heartily in relief, but Tancred simply left the room, swinging the doors with a large boom as his future was destined for him.

 

[Blitzz]

The Firebrands had come bearing incredible gits, metal and wealth of the likes that the Covenant had never seen before. Telmor decided quickly, without any advice or hesitation, that a trade route would be established between the Firebrands and the Blackveil Covenant. The Covenant would supply iron, along with quality armor and weapons, and the promise of expert craftsmanship if it was ever needed. In exchange, moonstone and steel would be plentiful in Covenant lands. The dealings were brief and over quickly, and the Firebrands were instructed to trade into the heartland of the Covenant at Winterport, a location from which traded resources were more easily distributed.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"It's quite something, isn't it, Carrelys?" Layich's voice was hard to make out over the rumble of the seas. Their ship was drawing closer to Sovereignty lands, and Carrelys still had not been told why they were going. She could tell something was up, and began to quiz him. "Why are we here? We never communicate with outsiders." Layich looked desperately for a change in topic, with very little success. "Come on, Layich. You know I'm not stupid. Something's up. Why are we here?" Layich appeared more and more desperate, before finally cracking under the pressure. "You are to be married." His statement was blunt. Carrelys looked pale. "What?" she said meekly. "To... to whom?"

"I do not know. Father would not tell me."

"Layich..."

"I don't know anything. It is beyond my authority."

"You're my uncle, Layich! You're captain of my father's royal guard! He tells you everything!"

"... He's a budding young Admiral. Quite the looker, from what I hear."

"Named?"

"I don't know."

"Layich."

"What?"

"What's his name?"

"I said I don't know."

"And I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want. You have no say in the matter. Your marriage will lay the foundations for an alliance with the Sovereignty, and that's the most important thing right now. Do your duty."

Carrelys looked resignedly as Layich, standing at the bow of the boat, watching the shores of Sovereignty lands draw ever close.

 

[Blackdoom59]

On the docks of Sunspear, the capital city of the Arcosiceni and the cultural center of Acenath, lady Diana Arcos walks to the ships along with her vast personal guard. A sight full of beauty, a madien with fire-red hair and a curved, glamorous body. Her hair is long, reaching down her spine, with two braids on the front each leaning on one of her shoulders, contrasting well with her silver-gray hair. She wore a quite revealing dress made from the finest imperial silk, red towards the bottom and black at the top. Her mesmerizing blue eyes were like a reflection of the sea as she walked down the harbor. The letter from Tranqil arrived, and the Empire suggested a marriage proposal. Tancred, the imperial she had to marry was but 22, and Diana was 73, but in elven years their ages collide. As she walked down she noticed a ship bearing the flag of the Imperium. On the deck there was a sight that could only be seen in paintings – the youngest child of the Firebrand name. Upon seeing her she approached the imperium ship as it docked, then spoke loudly “Lady Ashley Firebrand, the young daughter of the God King, and one of the finest mages in the realm.” she slowly clapped as she had a wide smile on her face “What brings you to Acenath, my dear princess?” asked Diana while she gracefully approached the exit of the ship, guarded by a couple of seekers.

-------

In Raven Rock, the kingslayer Arcanicus finally sets sail. A city of slaves, much like Acenath, but this one didn't cloud the truth or wrapped it in lies, but mainly accepted it and wore it with pride. Slaves always troubled Arcanicus, he considered them robbed of liberty and freedom, and some faced conditions worse then the half elves from Duwdeml. It took quite some walking around the city to get to the tower, and Arcanicus has only seen slaves and mages on his way.

“More mages then in Ottah, the Imperium certainly lives up to it's expectation.”

The seekers at the castle gates accompanied Arcanicus to a small room, where he was to talk to the God King himself. He could hear the whispers of many slaves and magic adepts from the tower as he was walking to the room, whispers about his deeds, about Einarr's deeds, and about how someone like him can dare speak with the master wizard. Those whispers could have just been in Arcanicus's head, but whether or not they were real, the kingslayer just walked forward, with his teeth clenched and his fists tightened, trying to ignore the outside world and focus upon the task at hand. He stood in the room and awaited Einarr, or a guard sending him to another place. As he waited he kept rubbing the tips of his fingers to the table, helping him settle the blood in his veins as well as think properly.

 

[Derath_farseer]

"Derath farseer" Einarr thought to himself before glancing over towards the map of his kingdom, names where written across it, all linked to each other by relation, and influence. It was a shame that such a promising mage would have to be dealt with but this was how it had to be done. Einarr would not allow any upstart to attempt to challenge his rule. Not that it mattered his agents where spread across his kingdom, the seekers almost never failed in their task.

Einarr allowed him self a small smile as he thought about what might be his most useful experiment. Newborns taken from birth to be trained, and magically enhanced to serve the Imperium. Brain washed to think of nothing but serving their king, but having just enough free will to thrive in the field, not that it was a perfect process hundreds died during their training and very few where taken into the order. He would have to work on perfecting it but he had other pressing matters.

It was during this time Einarr noticed David Murs, standing in the corner hidden in shadows. While Einarr needed the mans skills it bothered him how easily he slipped in with out him noticing, a habit that no matter how hard he tried to watch for, he couldn't help finding him self caught off guard.
"I assume there is some thing you need Murs?"Einarr said trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Yes oh holy king Einarr, It concerns the trading the Seekers sent to the north." David Murs had at least the common sense to bow deeply, even if a smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
Einarr drummed his fingers on his desk waiting for him to continue, if they had failed a report written by the High Seeker would have been sent to him. The silence continued for a few more seconds seconds before Einarr grew tired of the grin on Murs face.
"Well?" His voice echoed off the walls, and it clearly sounded angry. David Murs picked up on the familiar tone of the voice and dropped to a knee, his smile vanishing. He may of been a man who was used to living dangerously but he was wise enough not to upset his master.
"It seems the silver tongued captain we hired was able to convince the northerners to sign a trade agreement, they seem to be looking forward towards our shipments of slaves and other ores. Those that we have." David tried to keep the satisfaction out of his voice as he was the one who hired the man. Einarr kept his tone neutral as he spoke not wanting to add to his spy masters ego.
"Make sure a substantial gift is sent to him as thanks for his loyal work to the kingdom." Einarr said as he starting writing on a fresh piece of parchment.
"There is also another matter... my king we have a visitor from our western neighbors wanting to reinstate the trade agreement. I'll go meet with him, and deal with it if you wish." David Murs started to rise before Einarr spoke.
"No.. I think I'll speak with him my self. You may leave" His mind was racing, things couldn't of happened at a better time.

A rush of displaced air was heard as Einarr was teleported into a small chair set away from the Elven diplomat. His clothing changed from his normal stained garb into a dark red and black set of robes. Einarr could see the surprise in the elfs eyes. Despite the rumors, Einarrs hair was pure white instead of the golden mane he was said to have, and he hardly was a gaint as the legends said. He simply looked like an aged man, besides his eyes which still shone bright, crimson eyes which his family name came from.
"I have been informed you wish to reinstate our trade agreement. I have no wish to end our peoples agreement. So I wish to continue. This is what I offer.. We will pay twenty five percent more for any goods sold to us we will also like to double the amount of moonstone shipped to us. As long as you do not directly trade with the covenant. I will also allow a few of your mages study at some of our lesser schools. You would also have first pick of our slaves." His offer sounded more like a fact then a offer, he clearly wouldn't take any thing less.
Ashley

Ashley smiled as she stepped down the ships ramp onto the doc, seekers flanked her on each side. She looked over the woman who greeted her, she was handsome woman by any ones standards and wore a dress that would catch the eye of most men. "You honor me with such words" She said as her smile grew wider "But I am sure there are many a mage in your great schools who could show me a thing or two" She was almost surprised that it sounded so sincere, but one didn't last long in her fathers court with out knowing how to flatter.
"I'm here to meet with the Lord Reagent and the young queen. Would you be here to take us there miss.. I'm sorry while you seem to know me I'm afraid I don't know your name?" Ashley said as she looked around, she was ready to get going whether this woman was to take her or not.

 

[Daryl Dixon]

OOC: A lot of this post is seeding for the plots I have for characters, sorry if it's shabby. Expect better in the future. I'm open to constructive criticism, so by all means tell me what I did wrong, I may even edit and improve if it isn't plot changing.

Alex Mercer sat in the throne room, upon the throne, this was a rare occurrence. Due to it being so rare fliers were put up around the main city telling the people, it meant it was easy to obtain an audience with him. By 9 am, there was a line.

"My lord, the fact that being a werewolf or vampire isn't illegal.." A citizen said. "The supernatural are vile creatures spawned from demons!"

"I have discussed this before, friend, I am not criminalizing it. As long as they come forth to the kingdom, via letter or in person telling us what they are they are allowed to be whatever they wish. It is all kept on record."

"But.. My lord...It's insane!"

"Do not question the lords judgement!" A guard yelled toward the middle class citizen. Alex looked to the man. "I appreciate the trust you have in my word, guard, but it is encouraged that they do this. How else can I know what they do and don't like?" Mercer said. He dismissed the citizen, after promising to address the issue in his next speech, but it would never be outlawed. The issue of guards not giving citizens enough freedom of speech was a more pressing matter, he would start getting violent after his next speech. It mostly the new guards, the ones with something to prove.

The next few were petty, until Alex finally caught a break. He left for his war room, a room where he prepared his strategy. One of his favorite advisers were there, bearing 'bad' news. "My Lord, I've heard talk of the Iron Sovereignty engaging in a diplomatic marriage."

"With whom?" Alex asked curiously. "That much I am unsure, but it is a personal insult to you and your family." Morgan said, "They skipped you entirely and went for the Covenant. In fact they did the same, they deem your heirs not worthy of marrying them."

Alex sighed. Morgan always did overreact and assume, but on other matters his advice was invaluable and that is why he was kept around. "I nor are my children offended, Morgan, it'd do you good to not spread that blander around my castle. If these two become allies that will benefit us all the more, my dreams of the trinity will come true. The Iron Sovereignty is already close to being my ally, but I fear they do not trust me. We haven't created an official alliance, an issue that needs to be addressed. Send a letter to their king requesting a meeting between us, we'll see how this goes. Preferably a private meeting, but if guards must be present then so be it." Alex was assuming his relationship with the Sovereignty, it's just what he felt it was like, this didn't necessarily mean it was true.
—
In another part of the castle, a young woman was budding with excitement. "So does that mean mother is the richest person in Volmoria?" a young Emily asks her school teacher. They were being educated on money, and The Mercer Clan hoarded as much gold as they could. "Well, not exactly..." Mr Davidson said uneasily, he was worried if he said the wrong thing he would be executed or punished. "Remember your grandparents?" He asked. "Oh yeah..." Emily said, "I don't really get to see my grandad anymore... I'm not even sure he knows who I am." She said this in a somewhat happy manner, but it killed her inside. The kids who were making comments behind her backs toward the back of the classroom about her being a stuck up filthy rich brat eased up, but it would continue again.
—
In the streets just as you enter the city, another member of The Mercer Clan is present. "Charlotte, yes my name is Charlotte Mercer." She says as she answers an excited citizen who has recognized her. Charlotte was somewhat of the favorite among the citizens as she is most like them, she mingled with them and occasionally hung out with them. "Wow...I, I'm Lucas." He said, ecstatic, "Could I go out with you?"

"I'm sorry what?" She asks, smiling but feeling awkward. This always happens, men or women befriend and betray her, she has trust issues. "I'd be honored to accompany you, m'lady." The man said eagerly. He looked okay, light brown facial hair, short and slightly darker head hair. Hazel eyes, thin eyebrows. Just a regular man, imperial, but nonetheless Charlotte had to refuse. "I'm sorry but I can't, too many people try and it always ends badly..."

"That's okay, it's just I really want to get out of here but I have nobody to go with me. I was a fool to think a daughter of royalty would ever want to go anywhere with me, I am sorry Princess Charlotte." He said, seemingly sad, but he had twisted plans. Charlotte felt bad. She hated being royalty, she wanted nothing to do with it. She loved her family but she wishes Alex Mercer never started this. "Fine," She says smiling, "What was your name again?"

"Lucas."
Charlotte was too easy to persuade, and this wasn't the first time she would regret it.
—
Back in the castle, Alex Mercer met with his military leaders. "Right now the best we can do is try to reclaim land on our continent, but there's no way we can launch a full scale attack." The leader of Alex's supernatural forces, Derek says. "Oh that's excellent war tactics." Mercer says, "For someone with so much experience and intelligence I expected... More." Alex was slightly disappointed, it was obvious they could not wipe out such a large force at this current time but he needed to act.

"My lord, while we do have a fairly versatile fleet we do not specialize in anything when it comes to the seas, the only ships we have for war either need crew, needs fixing, or is too valuable to send in anything but a sure win and even so whether that win is worth it or not needs to be taken into consideration." The Navy leader, Jonathan McFarlane chips in.

Morgan was next. "My king, I think we should build The Iron Sovereignty a deadly but beautiful ship." He said confidently. All the military commanders in the room laughed. Alex smirked, then agreed. "Yes... Not only may it charm them, but if it doesn't it doesn't matter right? They're helping us anyway. It would be proof of loyalty, and if my enemy's enemy is stronger... Than he is weaker.." Alex walked over to Morgan and put a had on his shoulder, "Excellent idea Morgan." He concluded.

Over the next few days blueprints and designs were tossed around, they were unsure on wheather to do a huge deadly ship or a fast and deadly, but rather weak ship. Ultimately Alex had the final say and as much as he loved mobility he wanted to make an impression, a towering ship nearly the size of the walls around his city was going to be built. It would be near impenetrable, and it would have a lot of cannons. However it would be very slow, and would only fit out on the ocean. It was built for war, and war it will partake in. It will be painted black for The Mercer Supremacy, with their flags symbol on the back where the name would go. But it's flag would be one of The Iron Soverignity, but Alex would not allow it to be raised lest he offend them by raising their flag. The outside of the ship would have a mostly black hull with red lines while the inside of the ship and on deck would have the colours of The Iron Soverignity. It would be a beast, and Alex relished in the thought.

A week past and construction had started, Alex received word from Morgan again. "The ship is underway," he said as he stood outside of Mercers room in the hallway, "And we have a ship from The Blackveil Covenant. An ambassador and twenty or so guards, I'd advise you do whatever you can to have them align with you. This is a golden opportunity."

"Send the ambassador alone to the war room, the guards can wait out in the throne room or some by the door. He may bring 2 guards in with him if they feels it is necessary but tell him he won't need them. You have one hour to get him or her to the room. I'll be waiting.

Morgan left to fulfill his duties and Alex stood in the halls a moment. Morgan was so contradictory sometimes, he almost wanted Alex to declare war on them a week ago. Alex went back into his room, where his elven wife lay naked under the covers. "Was that Morgan again?" Violetta asked as she got out of bed and began to put a robe on. "Yes, news on the ship and what seems to be an ambassador from the covenant." Alex responded, emotionless and robot-like. "Blackveil?" Violetta asked as she raised an eyebrow, only to have Alex confirm it with a solid "Yes."

She brought him in for a hug, her hands around his back. She could feel his leather jacket, and as she rested her head on his shoulder she could only feel his hood. Not his soft hair or somewhat cold skin, she missed it. "Alex honey, maybe you should just stay here with me." She offered in a comforting, nurturing voice. "You've been working so hard lately..." She said as she put a hand on his chest, "And I just want you to take a break. Let me take over for a while if it needs to be, everyone knows you've been working hard these past few months."

Alex stood there for a moment, he could see his loving wife in front of him wearing a beautiful red robe, but he could not feel it. He felt the pressure of her hand on his chest, but he couldn't actually distinguish it being that if he wasn't staring right at it. He felt disconnected, and he only wanted to draw her in for another hug for as long as time would allow. But he was a leader, he rebelled, he needs to be strong.

"I must continue on with business, tenderness is a weakeness. Do not try and weaken me again." Alex said, as he left his beloved wife alone and slightly confused. He headed to the war room.

Violetta sat on the edge of the bed alone, it was unmade. She had so willingly took in his son and over time bonded with him deeply, they had kids of their own together, she was loving and caring. What else did he want from her? No, he didn't want that, he doesn't want it she thought. He wants someone to keep him strong, not to comfort him. Someone to make him ruthless. This frightened her, and she wasn't sure he could do it, they needed to communicate better. She got up and made the bed, and tidied to the room to keep herself busy. There was a knock on the door. Violetta answered to a young maid, soft brown eyes, light freckles on her cheeks and was fairly young. "May I assist you with anything?" She asked with a smile. "Yes." Violetta answered, "Do you know magic?" She asked. The maid thought a moment, "Yes and no." She answered. Before the queen could answer, the maid pulled a face of worry. Who knows how she could be punished for wasting the queens time? "Yes I do, a little, but only really telekinesis.." She said. "My aunt was a mage of alteration and I wanted to know this spell, it helps with cleaning somewhat."

Violetta smiled. "How would you like to learn more?" She offered with a smile.
—
As Alex waited in the war room, he analyzed the huge map of Seraak that lay there spread out on the table. If he could contact those down south he could take the enemy by all sides, but he needed the trinity first. It was his goal, unite the three in the north under one banner or rebellion. He knows he'd be dragging them into war, but it was their choice, sooner or later they would have to make one. He knew little of the Blackveil Covenant and didn't know what to think of them coming to seem first, he felt somewhat honored. He could only hope that his ambassador being sent to The Iron Sovereignty is welcomed and convincing.
—
"Okay, Jason Mercer, okay." Andrea says as she looks at her master, he had just made a horrible joke about cats, dogs and garden gnomes. "Hey, that was a pretty funny joke." He said, feeling a little cut down she didn't laugh. "We're covered in the blood of 4 wolves that just attacked us now isn't the time to make those sort of jokes." She said, lightly but she still sounded a little serious.

They traveled towards Blacklight, following the river that led mostly toward the city. There wasn't many bandits, but they did encounter the occasional would-be bandit. "So your mother, is she always that nice?" Andrea asked as they trekked. "She's not my fl*ffing mother." Jason said aggressively. Andrea stopped walking and faced him. "What the hell do you want?" He asked her, annoyed that she had stopped walking. "Calm down Mercer, seriously." Andrea sounded somewhat irritated as she said this, and she had her hand on her sheathed sword in a non aggressive manner. This is how she was trained to stand, it seems casual but she could draw her weapon at the drop of a coin.

"Just don't, okay? Don't."

"Jason, what is your problem? It was a simple mistake, I'm sorry."

"Well I've told you, I talked to you about all of it." Jason said, "Hell I even told you about what it was like when my dad met her! Did you even listen you... Oh believe me you!" He yelled, very angry.

Andrea knew he was a little short tempered but he rarely snapped at her like this. "Jason!" She screamed, he went to open his mouth as she began running toward him. That's when he felt it, an arrow go through his back. The pain was sudden, horrible and unexpected. he dropped to one knee and stayed down. Andrea ran over to him and pushed him down into a small ditch. It only made the pain worse, he still had an arrow inside of him. Andrea ran over to find his attacker but the culprit was no where to be seen, she knew where the arrow had come from so she slowly crept in that direction, trying to run in an unpredictable pattern as there was little to no cover on the river side.

Meanwhile, Jason had broken the arrow and pulled it out. He groaned in pain, and began applying a restoration spell to the wound. He had been practicing but the school of magic was new to him, the wound seemed to be healing but the pain didn't go. Suddenly he tasted blood in his mouth and though he had been poisoned. He spat on the ground, just saliva, no blood. The wound was mostly healed but the skin was still soft and weak. He got up, drew his bow and climbed out of the waist high ditch. Andrea was nowhere in sight, he scanned the tree line and still found nothing. Suddenly he heard a scream in the distance, and it wasn't Andrea. He slowly started jogging toward the scream but slowed down to halt, as moments later Andrea came out grinning. It amazed him how even after he had been a complete dick to her that she would go out and risk her life for him, he didn't understand. It was hard to stay mad at someone with such an incredible smile, but he hated that woman being called his mother.
—
Alex waited in the war room, about ready to leave. The hour was almost up, where was this ambassador? Had he been fooled? He should of known to not trust Morgan, after all these years he was bound to back stab him. Just like the last one. Morgan would pay.

That's when he walked in the door, and held it open for their guests. "My lord, the ambassador has arrived."

 

[Blackdoom59]

Arcanicus stood on the chair, bored and waiting for the so-called “God King” to show up. He was a bold man, and he had always hated politics. Yet when he rebelled form the Iceni, he had to convince the entirety of Taharka to follow his rule, and he did, thus he became known for having a silver tongue. The sound of him breathing and scratching on the table was disturbed by the silent, yet noticeable sound of alteration magic. In a mere second, a white light blinded Arcanicus and took his breath away as king Einarr magically appeared out of thin air precisely on the chiar opposite of the silver elf. Arcanicus surprised visage soon took the form of an intrigued persona, with a grim painted across his face.

Lord Einarr was old, not in human, but in elven years, and Arcanicus could notice that. The stories have some truth to them he thought as he gazed at the king's figure. The king seemed to misunderstand Arcanicus intentions, he thought that the elves meant to end the trade, so he started putting up favorable changes to the trade agreement. “We will pay twenty five percent more for any goods sold to us we will also like to double the amount of moonstone shipped to us. As long as you do not directly trade with the covenant. I will also allow a few of your mages study at some of our lesser schools. You would also have first pick of our slaves."

Arcanicus certainly did not expect something like this for a man with so much pride. He kept his surprise In check, trying to maintain the allusion that the elves actually wanted to end the trade. After Einarr finished talking, Arcanicus nodded slowly while maintaining full eye contact. He was a good liar. “So be it, we shall not end the agreement as long as your terms are struck, however, I cannot promise that we won't trade with the Covenant. Although I do not expect them to want trade, everything is a possibility, and if it happens that my people and them trade, we shall find other ways to compensate the Imperium for it's tolerance.” He smiled, holding his hands together. “I will also want to change the trade routes, instead of taking the ships directly through the north, we shall take a longer route through the south, circling the entire continent. Obviously, this will slow our trade, but the seas in which we are curently trading are riddled with piracy and naval combat between the Supremacy and the Empire, and the elves would rather not get involved in their petty war.” Arcanicus gave the king some time to think, but he made another, more personal demand soon afterwords. “Also, I'd like to take one of your alteration trainers to come with me on my journeys. I wouldn't mind being able to teleport.” he smiled, then awaited Einarr's answers.

Diana


It was a game of flatter between Diana and Ashley, but it didn't take long. "I'm here to meet with the Lord Reagent and the young queen. Would you be here to take us there miss.. I'm sorry while you seem to know me I'm afraid I don't know your name?"the young princess asked. Diana chuckled a little, trying not to seem offended. After her wedding, the entirety of Seraak would know her name. “I am Diana Arocs, Arcanicus's Sister.” she presented herself, proudly, as she bowed like a true lady in front of Ashley. “I would be most happy to assist you, however I have to go to Arken, an marry an imperial boy.” the girl seemed to be confused, and Diana was sure her feelings were mixed. “You can take a carriage to Sunspear, my dear, and Lord Regent Aqer will welcome you.” her happy persona took a little hit as her smile dropped “But I'm afraid the young queen is beyond your reach...Lord Aqer sadly keeps The Jewel guarded, and far from the eyes of society.” With that she entered her ship and sat sail for Arken. The journey would be short, and the wedding won't take place the next day. Arcanicus insisted that he was present at the festivity.

 

[Jo'rak Vandeni]

"What do you mean gone?!" Lord Commander Tangheyr roared, as he slammed both of his steel-plated gauntlets into the table, sending small tin figures flying from their places upon the broad map set upon the table. The Lord Commander was dressed in the heavy steel armour of the Rhys, a bear pelt upon his shoulders, and a long white robe above his steel armour set, a thin line of red upon the robe, from his feet to the throat, chainmail smattering against steel plate beneath it. His face always carried a grim look, his eyes were dark blue, and his hair and beard black as night, with bits of grey colour sprouting from his beard, his hair was trimmed down next to othing, and so the grey was harder to spot, but it was not gone.

The courier cowering in the entrance of the tent gulped loudly before continuing.
"They're gone, sir. All of them. Their tracks disappeared in the storm last night. Scouts have given up, no one has reported their return, not even Curse."

Curse was the Rhys field-name for 9th Legion, every legion's field-name was related to pain or death, and their names spread through the villages in fear, a piece of psychological warfare.
"Meidryn Bechil....." Tangheyr swore. How the fluff can 500 sellswords go missing! He thought to himself, muttering under his breath.
The sellswords had been purchased a year back, before the first invasion, and had been tasked with raiding and pillaging settlements, ahead of the main force of Rhys (warriors). No real resistance had been expected, most of the Mercer Supremacy's military strength had either been lost defending Crowhold and Coldlair, or fallen back deeper inland, leaving many smaller settlements and villages to their faiths.

And now, 500 veteran raiders had vanished, gone into thin air, no sign of fighting, no word from them, nothing at all. Just gone.

Tangheyr looked up at the startled courier, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Those sellswords came from the capital, treason is out of the question. Send out every damn scout we have... and tell them only to return if they find those fluffin' mercenaries!"
Tangheyr raised his fists from the table, and pointed one armoured hand towards the exit.
"GO!" He roared, as the courier fought to bring his trembling arms into a salute, and then rapidly scurried of away from the tent, leaving his commander all alone again.

"....What the fluff is wrong with this continent."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tancred Rhyfelwyr
Duwdeml was a beautiful sight upon the horizon, it's towers and walls springing up from the big sand dunes between the convoy and the city. Tancred sat upon a camel, dressed in white robes and a silk scarf covering his face, to protect him from the sun, he did not carry the weapons granted to him by his father, but rather carried a rather blunt iron longsword by his waist, and his oak shield was covered in leather and hide, concealing the Rhyfelwyr emblem, the White Deer.
Tancred reeked of sweat and sand, his eyelids were shaking with the weight of dried sand-cakes upon them, and his hands dripped with sweat, leaving tiny spots of wet sand behind him, quickly destroyed by the caravan of camels and horses.

None of his family travelled with him to Duwdeml, the others travelled by ship, as ordered by his father.

Even though officially, the elves of the south were citizens of the Empire, and peace had been signed, Tancred knew better than to travel as the senators had desired, dressed in the ornamental traditional leather armour of the Rhys, Rhyfelwyr banners carried by each and every follower in the caravan, straight through deserts and wastelands filled with a people hating Man.

Tancred had accepted his fate now, to be wed to an Elf for the good of his people, but the thought of it still left a bitter taste in his mouth, his childhood had been filled with racist comments and jokes regarding the "long-ears" of the south, both from friends and his father, and now he was to marry one of said uncivilized, desert brutes.
"The deserts are not safe, we would need an army to get there safely, and the last thing we want to do is enter Duwdeml with an army again. No, we will travel by sea, show them our good intents. You, Tancred, will travel alone through the desert, show the Elves your strength, they're a proud race, won't accept anyone to take their princesses hand, especially a human. Show your strength, travel the desert, make the bards sing of how the Prince travelled through the deserts, risked certain death, anyhting to find his princess."Cythraul's voice echoed as Tancred remembered the words, and it left an even sourer taste in his mouth.

"My Prince should not be bitter, the princess is said to be a true beauty." His page said as he rode up next to Tancred. He was two years younger than Tancred, and the two were very close, closer than Tancred was to his brother, although he would never speak of it.

Tancred gave him an angry look, and then rolled down the scarf, and the fresh air struck his face like a blessing from the gods.
"Will her beauty save me when she stabs me in my sleep? She is the enemy, Darek."

"Well I'm sure she'll be impressed with you as well, maybe she'll drop the knife and kiss you instead?" Darek mused.

Tancred didn't laugh, but raised his canteen of water to his lips, and tossed it away as he realized it was empty.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes now." He said bitterly.

Tancred kicked his feet into the sides of his camel, beckoning it to move faster.
"Let's just get this over with." Tancred said, leaving his friend behind him, as the sounds of a city grew stronger ahead of him.

 

[Derath_farseer]

Einarrs face was blank impossible to read as he listened to the elfs demands, he made up his mind that he disliked this man. It was a simple as that some times, he just seemed to irritate him with every word. All though it seemed he might fit in perfectly with his council, quick with words dripping with charm. As he finished Einarr let the silence draw on, his fierce gaze looking back at the man in front of him. When Arcanicus looked as if he was going to speak again Einarr cut him off.
"No." A simple enough word and Einarr watched Arecanicus's face seeing a hint of confusion.
"You miss under stand. Those terms I put forward where a gift if your people promised to not seek out trade with my neighbors to the north, but you have made it more then clear you'll do as you wish so my last offer is void. A shame considering our peoples history. So I shall not pay the added amount to our trade, all though I will still like to double the amount of moonstone shipped to us, the first shipment at a discount of twenty percent due to the added time we will have to wait for it. As we are already running low as it is." His voice had a dangerous edge to it. It was hard to place as Einarrs face remained calm and his voice steady but Arecanicus could feel it. The air felt heavy with the swirl of magical energy, with Einarr at the center of it, like the eye of the storm.
"If you feel this is unfair, Then it seems our trading must come to an end, which even though you said you're might end it I doubt you will. You're people need my coin, considering the empire is looking to reclaim old lands." He grew tired of talking and was speaking bluntly.
"But to your personal request.. I shall send one of my seekers to go with you to act as your guard. While it might not teach you our magic it is more then capable to keep you safe." As he finished speaking a figure steps out of the corner of the room, which up until this point seemed empty. In fact it seems hard to concentrate on the seeker, it seems to simmer and fade as eyes pass over it.
"Now.. one of my servants will bring the documents to sign. I have other matters to attend to." He said before disappearing into thin air.

The seeker remained, dressed head to toe in leather armor, draped in a cloak and a white mask covering his face, painted with patterns of black smoke. Behind them a door opened and a servant brought in the documents with a ink pot and quill.
Ashley
Ashley smiled as she heard of the marriage.
"That is wonderful news, I wish you both a long and happy marriage." She turned and whispered some thing to her guard. Soon a young girl, no more then twelve or thirteen steps out of the ship.
"This is Summer, She has been my personal hand maiden for some time, I would like to gift her to you as a early wedding present from the royal family. She has been trained in many forms of entertainment. All though I think her most useful talent is her ability to keep a secret. A girl should always have some one to confide in, no?" Ashley gave a playful smile and made her self ready to leave. Not taking no for an answer. Summer bowed to her new master and watched Ashley leave for the carriage leading towards the capital. Her seeker guard sitting beside her, the slaves following behind with the other seekers flanking them on foot, a total of nine. She was looking forward to meeting the Lord reagent of this land, she made sure she looked perfect. As she made it towards the gate she spoke to the guard letting them know who she was and that she wished for a meeting with the Lord. All there was left to do is wait.

 

[Colonelscout312]

Nomad awoke in a soft bed. He'd never get used to it, it was too soft for a former peasant, and a soldier. But he wasn't a soldier anymore, he was a king. It had been a month since peace had been achieved from Sondheim's civil war. Nomad and his men had defeated the Scar dynasty, and Sondheim was there's.

"Good morning my king." Runsultare said as Nomad entered the main hall of the castle.
"Good morning Runsultare, how goes the kingdom?" Nomad asked, sitting down and having his breakfast. Waffles, with bacon, sausage, and milk. As well as a sweet roll. Nomad would much rather have grabbed meat out of his own cellar, baked his own doe. He had half a mind to tell all his servants they were no longer employed here and to go help with the family business.
"Well, on the outside. Our scouts have come back. Our victory has deceived us into thinking that we are at peace, my Lord." Runsultare said as he sat down, and poured the maple syrup onto his own breakfast. "They report that there are still camps with remnants of the Scar Dynasty. And there are still villages, and even some nobles who still support them."
"Do we know who?" Nomad asked as he took s bite of his waffles, and washed them down with his milk.
"No, but we know they have backing. They're forces are growing under our noses. But this is not a war of battles and chaos. What remains of our civil war will be spies, assassinations, and traitors. This is a secret war, one that we cannot alert the public too. No, it is better to keep the illusion of peace alive, for a month, at least."
"As always, I will trust your guidance. However," Nomad said, getting up and pacing about, his finished breakfast and drink on the table. He intended to take care of his dishes, but the servants got to them first. My, they were fast.
"We must send out recruiters. We have 14,000 men to protect us. And for all we know, the entire world could be against us."
"That could be true, after all, we are followers of Yawea, who is widely disliked, and has been the subject of many wars."
"I know my history Runsultare, but thank you." Nomad said.
"I have plans to travel to Blacklight, in Volmoria. It is the capital of the Mercer Supremacy. I will attempt to make peace with them."
"Any particular reason why, my Lord?" Runsultare asked.
"Yes, they won the drawing of who to negotiate first." Nomad smiled. "I'll be packing," He said as he left the hall. "And you're in charge while I'm gone." He said, now in his room.
"My lord, shouldn't you let them know you're coming?"
"I sent an eagle on ahead, they'll know unless some foul Hunter shoots it down." Nomad made sure everything was packed, and secured the several bags on his horse. His personal guard were all ready to go.
"Don't you think this is a bit... sudden?" Runsultare asked.
"Obviously not. My guard were ready to go, I've chosen who to leave in charge, and I've sent a message ahead of me announcing my arrival."
"Yes, but only a month after our victory? And with our uncertainty as of who to trust now---"
"Runsul, you talk to much. Just do what you've always done and Sondheim will be fine until my return." The two clasped hands and hugged.
"I'll return soon, and safely." Nomad said.
"And I'll make sure you still have a kingdom to command when you get back." Rusultare said. And with those final words, Nomad and his guard were off.

 

[EpicVakarian]

-At'dra-​

The King read through the letter from the Arcosiceni, dreading what would inevitably come next. The letter read:​

​

"King At'dra Ferrian, First of His name, ruler of the Iron Sovereignty, head of the Ferrian family and master of ships. I, Arcanicus Arcos, second of his name, butcher of kings and usurper of kingdoms, head of the Arcos family and ruler of the Royal Navy am both sad delighted to tell you about the trading reforms that are to be taken in place between our two great kingdoms.

The short route that we are taking at the moment is faster, but piracy and war between the the Supremacy and the Empire makes the route dangerous. We propose a longer route, going from the western side of Arken. Significantly longer, but safer, our routes won't get raided, and our ships won't get boarded. In the name of the Arcosiceni pact, we hope that you will accept the trading reforms for both of our sakes.

Post Script:
This letter is not only about petty trade between our lands, At'dra. For I have something for you. You thought your ships won't get noticed, sailing to the rebels, suporting their war effort and bolstering their numbers? Well I have noticed them, along with my merchants. Don't worry, however, those who found out were killed, leaving me the only witness. I can easily get this information to the Empire, whom will wage war with your people. But I like you, ironborns, and I don't wish you harm.

Your son, ancestors bless him, is to marry a member of the Blackveil Covenant. That makes you the Covenant's allies. So we work out a deal you see - you convince the Covenant that their elves belong to the Arcosiceni and they shall either be deported back to my isles, or have a ministry ruling over them. Do this in 8 seasons, 2 years, and I shall not reveal the troubling news about you to my friend, the emperor, ancestors bless his soul.

The choice is yours At'dra, but will you think for your people, or for your own selfish desires?"​

​

At'dra rubbed his beard, deep in thought. The Arcosiceni were in league with the Rhyfelwyr Empire; the very people he did not want to be in league with. But, if his words were true, he could easily bring war to the Sovereignty. Even alongside the Mercer Supremacy, he didn't have the power yet to fight off the Empire.​

​

"We do nothing," he finally said to his advisors, "We continue as normal. We send no reply. With any luck, the southern bastards will think we've taken them up on their offer. That'll give us enough time to prepare for war."​

"My lord," said O'Ronnack, "I urge you to reconsider. War is not the way to go with this."​

"War with the Empire was inevitable, my friend. It was coming, sooner or later. I only hope we can prepare before they come for us."​

​

-El'eia-​

​

"Do you think she's beautiful?" El'eia sighed at An'ret's question.​

"She must be. With a name like Carrelys, and a father that's a king of an empire that powerful, she must be. Reassured now?"​

"Shut up, sister." An'ret grinned down at her.​

​

The ship from the Covenant was docking now, the first sailors emerging down the gangplank. Around fifty sailors marched off before three people followed them, dressed nobly and heads held high. These had to be the ones they were waiting for. Two men and a young woman.​

​

An'ret had eyes only for the woman; a beautiful, slim little thing with slender fingers and good hips. An'ret wasn't particularly bad-looking himself, nor was he unkind; El'eia had a feeling they'd both be fine with each other.​

​

The two men stood in front of them, bowing and letting An'ret bow in return; El'eia was forced by courtesy to curtsy.​

​

"My name is Layich Udiryan," said the older man, before gesturing to the younger. "And this is Kristoph. A naive boy, but brave, and loyal. He is the heir to the Blackveil Covenant." He stood aside, letting Carrelys step forward. "And this is Carrelys. She is here to meet her betrothed; I assume this is you, my lord?"​

​

An'ret stood forward, taking Carrelys' hand and looking kindly down at her.​

"It is indeed, my lord. And my lady, I promise you this; I will treat you as kindly as I can, and I will not mistreat you. You have nothing to fear from me." He smiled at her, kissing her hand gently.​

El'eia rolled her eyes subtly, smiling up at Layich.​

"Welcome to the Iron Sovereignty, my lord, and welcome to Bluegate. If you'll follow me, we will take you to Bridgebarrow to see our father. He would like very much to meet you."​

​

​

​

​

 

[Blitzz]

Telmor looked down, pitifully, at Adelera. Her skin was as pale as the snow in the North, and her lips were a deep shade of purple. Her eyes seemed to be empty, staring at the ceiling, no emotion behind them, no recognition, and at the same time, no suffering. Torlin stroked the black hair away from the sides of her face. Attira sat in the corner, comforting Vexela, who was weeping softly. The Priestess taking care of Adelera was unsure of whether the girl would survive the night, but Telmor found respite in the fact that she had survived this long, and that she felt no pain. She had been a sickly child since birth, and he had always wondered if she would meet an early end, as sick as it may be for a father to think that way. Canria had her hand on Telmor's shoulder, offering cold comfort, but he knew she would be secretly glad of Adelera's passing. One more of the King's heirs out of the way meant she was one step closer to claiming the throne she thought she deserved.

"I'm terribly sorry, my Lord. There is nothing else we can do for her now. She is not suffering. All we can do is wait and pray for her recovery." The Priestess' voice was warm and soft, comforting. Telmor shivered, as the cold in the room ripped into his body, the sun outside offering little shelter from the harsh temperature as it flooded the chamber. Vexela's whimpers seemed to get more frequent. "Thank you, kind mistress, for caring for my daughter. Whether she survives or not, you have my sincere gratitude." She nodded, as Telmor left the room, leaving the women with his daughter. Vexela's crying could be heard at the other end of the hall. The Eclipse Palace felt empty. Carrelys, Layich, and Kristoph were all in a different land, one in which he was powerless to protect them. All he could do was trust in Layich's divine sword arm.

As he had demanded, Lord Villinel and Lord Fultian had arrived. He was determined to convince them to do as he had suggested. "Ah, noble Lords of the Covenant. Thank you for coming." He gestured to the seats around the table, and called for food and drink to be brought in. Both of the Lords looked at him expectantly. Both wore fine, blood red armor, bearing the white hourglass of the Covenant. "So, how are things in your lands?" The question was directed at neither in particular. He didn't care for formalities when conversing with his Lords. "Just fine," said Villinel. "I suppose you want us to train more troops, am I correct?" Telmor knew they would catch on quickly. "Yes. I am done suggesting it to you now, my Lords. I demand it. I know the people will become unsettled by recruitment, but war is coming, my friends. I can smell its foul stench on the wind." Fultian looked at him curiously. "Oh really? And what does it smell like?"

"Like death and decay. Like burning cities. Like the sweat of slaves and the blood of the slaughtered. It sounds like the slaver's whip, like the screams of the women as marauders rape them, like the cries of demented, tortured prisoners." The men looked at him, shocked. "That, my friends, is why you need to rally soldiers to defend your lands. We stand at several hundred thousand strong, well armed and armored, with siege weapons capable of destroying any castle, but we don't have enough to destroy the Empire, even when united with the Sovereignty and Supremacy."

"Fine," they said in unison. Then they continued to drink and eat, Telmor trying to drown his sorrows surrounding his daughter Adelera in a fountain of vintage wine.



Layich was not impressed when he was forced to introduce himself, his nephew and his niece. But, aside from them not really knowing who they were, the people that greeted them seemed nice enough. He felt guilty that he did not really know who any of them were either, so he decided that he didn't blame them for not knowing him. Thankfully, the walk to Bridgebarrow was not too long. Layich kept quiet the whole way, watching out for threats, whilst Carrelys chatted with her soon-to-be husband, and young Kristoph badgered the poor woman, asking stupid questions about boats and sailors, and about the cities on the Island like a dumbfounded teenage boy.

Layich piped up near the end, as his curiosity got the better of him. "So how many guards do you have posted here?" He liked to know exactly what he would be up against in case the negotiations went sour. It never hurt to be prepared.



The Ambassador had finally arrived at the Capitol of the Mercer Supremacy. Him and his disguised entourage had gone through quite the journey to get here, but at last they had arrived. He approached a guard near the gate. "I'm here to talk with your King, Lord Mercer." The guard gave him a blank, unimpressed look. "I'm here as an Ambassador, on behalf of the Blackveil Covenant, on direct orders from King Telmor Udiryan himself." A glimmer of recognition in the guard's eyes, and he scurried off. Now all he had to do was wait.

It was not long before the guard returned and led them to the keep. Apparently he was allowed only two guards, so he went in, led by a man named Morgan, into the chamber where Lord Mercer was standing. "Lord Mercer. My name is Neamon. I speak on behalf of King Telmor Udiryan. He wished to forge and alliance between our great kingdoms, so that we may stand united against the Empire."

 

[Blackdoom59]

Aqer

In the Palace of Chariots, Lord Regent Aqer stands on the glass throne, swirling his long beard while inspecting the fine texture of the crown that he has placed in his hands. What's taking them so long he questions himself, when he spots his brother, Renzio Sunsfly, Chief Commander of the Military, entering the room alongside the Master of Coin, Ken. Ken was a human, and a young one at that, you don't see many wondering around in Acenath, except for the slaves, that is. Renzio takes his seat, while Ken approaches the Lord Regent. Aqer places the crown back on his head, with only a tint of a smile on his face, as Ken bows elegantly before his ruler, showing off his expensive clothes and good intentions. “My lord, the council will be here shortly.” he says, with a wide yet somehow twisted smirk.
“Took you long enough...From my understanding we have a lot to talk about”
“Yes my lord, however we have to do so without Lord Arcanicus and his sister.”
“Of course, we have to find someone else to take care of people opinion and interior affairs”
Ken tilts his head up, looking straight into Aqer's eyes.
“I am well suited for such a position, my lord. The merchants hear a lot, and I get to hear it all from them. I strongly suggest-” his words were cut short as Aqer raised his hand, signaling him to shut his trap “Lady Thea will take Diana's place. I am sure your duty as a coinlord will keep you busy” Ken frowned, and left the regent's company after another respectful bow.

After a few short minutes, the throne room was filled with the council, who all took royal seats on the table opposite the throne. Aqer sighed, but before he could speak, his brother, Renzio, rose from his seat and adressed the king “Some troubling news, my lord...” he was wearing the same armor as Arcanicus and had long blonde hair, kept as a ponytail on the back of his throat. “William Junglesong, the colonist leader, has died of old age. His Bastard, Carl of the Desert has taken over the colonies before we could assign someone else. He requests 5,000 more men to help him on the colonies against the tribal warfare he's been facing” Aqer rose an eyebrow, then looked over at Thea, who could barely hold back her tears. William was her father, and Carl her step brother. She hasn't seen either since she was married to Arcanicus. William's death certainly took a toll on her

“Make sure Carl's request is met, I want the tribesmen taken down. Send an ambassador to Clan War-Blade, maybe his men can help us in this war” Aqer said as he placed his hand to his chin. Renzio sat down, somewhat disgusted, leaving room for Indaril Fire-Setter, the ministry o Foreign Affairs, to talk freely. “My lord, Clan War-Blade suffers from a shortage of able fighters, and they have a civil war to take care of. I'm afraid they can't help us on this matter.” before Aqer could reply, Renzio begun debating the matter “Even if they could, I'd rather hire sellswords then asks the milk-drinkers from Sondhein for help!” eyes from the entire room were set on Rnzio “Brother, war breaks out in the north and there's no telling if we might be dragged into it. We need capable allies, you have to under-” Renzio rose from his chair once more, this time letting it fall to the ground. “If you ally the elves with those mindless fanatics...” he turned his back and begun leaving the room “....you are no brother of mine!”

Arcanicus

Arcanicus signed the documents, leaving a sealed letter on the table, directed only for Einarr's eyes.
With that, he took his prized seeker and left for Dawnhold, the capital of the Covenant. A place known for beauty, wealth, and spilled blood. On the ship, the bored elf starts talking with his new traveling companion. “So, you're one of those...Seekers, right?” the man nods, and Arcanicus raises an eyebrow. “What's your name?” the elf asks, but the seeker shrugs. “You don't know your name?”
the seeker shakes his head. “Tell me your story, and I'd better hear something this time. This damned ship is too silent." “My lord. I was born a slave in Raven Rock, as well as an orphan. Didn't knew my name, because I had no parents to name me. I went to study magic, and than I became a seeker.” Arcanicus takes a sip from the bottle of wine next to him. “That's it?” the man nods. “What did the other seekers call you?” the seeker shrugs. Arcanicus sighed, then placed his hand on his new guard's shoulder “Your new name is Silanus, just as the elven Sun God. You should be honored.” he chuckled, while taking another swing. “Call me as you wish, my lord. But I only serve the God King Einarr”

Arcanicus rolled his eyes, and as he tried to drink again, he spilled the wine all over the wooden floor, as he smashed his head against the wall of the captain quarters. The seeker fell of his chair and rolled all over the floor. It became clear a second afterwords, as the screams of fear and pirate shouts could be heard by the anyone – the ship was under attack. And it wasn't capable of defending itself, it was a simple merchant vessel, but it carried the Arcosiceni Flag, which, for any dumb pirate, meant it was filled with riches. Arcanicus left the captain quarters to fight them off, and he only had to glance a little to see no track of Silanus. The damn fool must have ran off He thought to himself. As he exited his quarters, he saw a large frigate, opposite of the ship, it could carry up to 50
pirates, 20 of which were on the elven ship, plundering everything they could find. They happened not to kill anyone, all of Arcanicus's crew was taken captive. But as soon as the pirates saw him exit his quarters, they charged at him. He took out his long glass sword and parried an axe blow from one pirate, then proceeded on swinging at him, tearing his face apart in one strike. The next 5 pirates had already surrounded Arcanicus. Three of them confidently charged at him, but he ended two of them with a charged chain lightning bolt, and thrust his sword into the other one's poorly armored gut before he could get to the elf. The others yielded as they saw the elf drop his sword and send bolts of lightning at them, purposely missing them by mere inches. After the merchant vessel was secure, Arcanicus looked at the pirate ship, to witness an unpredictable sight.

All of the pirates were dead, and the only one standing was no one but Silanus. The elf lord started laughing as he took his sword from the ground and sheathed it. “We got ourselves a new ship boys!” Cheers could be heard from all across the vessel. They changed the flag, dropped the bodies in the water and moved the cargo. The spared pirates took kindly to this turn of events. Arcanicus took the wheel and sat sail towards Covenant lands.

Diana

Lady Diana and her new handmaiden companion, finally reached Duwdeml, alongside golden league solders.

The golden league counted up to 2,000 men, but Diana was accompanied just by twenty. They were skilled battlemages, veterans from the civil war, and, as the name would suggest, they wore gold plate armor, hardened by moonstone and ebony steel. The golden league was in charge of protecting the young queen, although most of them resided in Taharka, and the queen was guarded only by a quarter of the league. The city seemed very strange to the elven maiden, not by the way it was built, but the simple fact the elves, and men with elven ears stood on the fields, and worked like the slaves back in Sunspear. Only those elves seemed somewhat happier – they had a little more freedom. As she walked the streets of Duwdeml, people pointed at her and whispered, most of them smiling, some cheering with joy. She walked over to a tall tower in Duwdeml, as she was instructed, her royal guard following her closely. She then sat at the peak of the tower, with only an open window that sighed the deserlands of south arken. A man, dressed in expensive imperial silk came at the tower and bowed before her. “My lady, your beloved Tancred will be journeying through the desert, and then climb onto this tower, to find the princess that was promised to him!” she let out an obviously fake smile and then signaled him to leave, turning her head on the window. “It's just like in the stories!” Summer said, looking up at Diana. “The Prince travels and risks his life just to meet you!”

Diana smiled, and softly touched the girl's face. Summer was young, and clearly fed up with stories.
“If only it was like that...” the girl's smile faded away as Diana continued
“The prince's journey is but a symbol, a silly human tradition. He shares no love for me, I'm sure.”
Diana starts swirling her hair.
“But...what about you? Don't you want to marry him? He's a prince, he will whisk you away to a life of adventure, and love a-and-” her speech was stopped by Diana's chuckle. “I never met him, dear. I don't even know how he looks like. I lived all my life in my brother's shadow, and now I'll become a princess, my son would be a possible heir to the Imperial throne. I'll achieve something he can't. That's all the motivation I need to marry this boy”.
Summer was confused, but somewhat bold in her questions. “Your brother...he's the butcher usurper , right?”. Diana was impressed by Summer's knowledge ”Yes, that's right. Do you know why they call him that?” the girl swallowed dryly, but didn't hesitate to reply “He murdered the elven heirs and killed the past king. I once red that he chopped off king Riendal's head, and wore it on his belt as he was praised by his solders while walking through Sunspear” Diana rose from her chair and begun walking around the room. “You know an awful lot about elven history for a handmaiden in service to Einarr...” Summer let out a playful smile “I used to sneak around the library and steal some books, the ones that the mages never seemed to touch.” Diana smiled. She liked this girl already. “Weren't you afraid of the God King's punishment?” Diana asked with a tint of sarcasm “Not at all. I've seen him myself, he isn't a god, he's just an old geezer that knows some spells.” Diana started laughing, but soon calmed herself down “So you don't worship Einarr?” Summer looked away “Not really...” she eyed Diana once more “I like thinking the elven gods are real. Stories such as the destruction of Acenath, and the endless daylight are so fascinating, worthy of worshiping. Einarr has no story...he's a very secretive man, almost like he fears something. A god isn't supposed to fear anything, right?”


Diana chuckled again and layed on her bed “Of course not, sweetie”