[Forum Game] Agorath and the Maegi Prophecy

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    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

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BlackBishop

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The Dwarven Renaissance


Dwarves of the Golden City journey to Kogansunan

After a successful campaign of persuasion, House Deagrin convinced many noble families, merchants and craftsmen of the Dwarven Quarter of the Golden City to uproot and settle in the Highathar Mountainhome. Over the course of Sun's Shadow, Snowfall and Serpentine, the citadel of Kogansunan experienced a boom of cultural and economical development.

House Deagrin gains prestige!
35 Gold chests earned!




What happens in Three Rivers...



With the Lord of Three Rivers spiraling in depression, and the rule of the city falling to his son and heir, the city has seen a boom of tavern and brothel establishments. Over the winter, the once serene Three Rivers has begun to earn a reputation of falling into ill repute.

No Prestige Earned!
15 Gold Earned!



Kalare Wants You!




A successful fundraising campaign in Kalare City has enlisted the aid of wealthy Nord Nobles and landowners. Though the campaign was seen as befitting of Lord of Light in the Golden City, in Norseland, many donated gold to aid the Kalare war effort.

No Prestige Earned!
10 Chests Earned!




New Lands, New Opportunities

House Frostverd sent an expedition north of Agorath into the frigid cold waters of the North Ocean. Having discovered a chain of islands in the waters, the Jarl began colonization of the new lands, as well as gifting one of the four islands to House Celestian. The nobility of the Golden City is abuzz with the exciting news of the new island chain and the mysteries and treasures that the islands may hold.

Prestige Earned!
10 Chests Earned!




The Immortal Trials

The warriors of Hroniden and all over Agorath gather to compete in the Immortal Trials.
((Update to come on the games))



House Światowida constructs Manor
 
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Deaghaidh

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((A little atmosphere piece about the Dwarven Renaissance.))

"Is this it?" Hagan Fistsilver asked his brother.

"Definitly! This is it, our new home! I love it already!" Hagan Talcbreaker shouted.

"How can you possibly tell? They all look exactly the same."

When they first entered Kogansunan, the brothers had been equally impressed by the rows of pillarhouses. The common district was filled with them in row upon row, long stone buildings carved into the living mountain. Three stories tall, separated by broad level streets and lit by dwarrow lamps, these L shaped buildings were the homes and workplaces of the dwarves under the mountain. On the corners were the craftsmens' shops and showrooms, with the rest of the first floor given over to workshops, with apartments for the craftsmen and their families above them. They couldn't see, but they knew that they opened into a long rectangular courtyard, shared between two pillarhouses, filled with statues and tables and finely carved chairs, where the extended families that lived within could meet to eat and sing and laugh.

Imposing as they were, it did not take long for Fistsilver to start finding them oppressive. It was one thing to hear that Kogansunan had less than a quarter as many inhabitants as it did in its glory days. It was quite another to see the rows of silent streets and dark windows. He was told that things were not so gloomy as they seemed at first, that most dwarves preferred to live in the inner apartments, leaving the windows to the streets dark. It did not change the impression of walking through a graveyard.

At first there had been the bustle and excitement of the other migrants to fill the silence. They had travelled together for countless days and nights, riding in mule carts filled with their worldly possessions up and down steep mountain roads. But after the initial reception, they parted company, heading to their Delvings. These neighborhoods were devoted to a specific trade. There had been plenty of masons with them as far as the Guildhall. The Grandmasters had been welcoming and friendly. Grumpy as he might be, Fistsilver couldn't help noticing the difference in their attitude. In the Golden City, the Guild Elders eyed their young protégés with suspicion. The Guild sought to keep pay high, limiting the number of practicing Master Masons. So they sought out every opportunity to criticize the journeymen, finding fault with their work at every turn. Of course their alleged lack of skill didn't keep those same elders from hiring them on at low wages to do most of the actual work.

But here, they had scarcely been inside the Guildhall before the Grandmasters took a cursory glance at their letters of recommendation, and a pro-forma inspection of the samples of work they brought along. They were swiftly rated master, handed an engraved charter authorizing them to open for business, a heavy iron key to their new workshop, and a list of jobs outstanding for them to choose from.

But even achieving in the space of an hour what they would have had to toil for years more to get back in the City wasn't enough to lift Fistsilver's mood. He'd been dragging their cart back and forth through the Mason's Delving for what must have been hours as his brother misread the directions.

"Of course it is! See, that's clearly the Ram's Ramp" pointing to the curved ramp, leading upwards to the Jewler's Delving and down to the Armorer's Delving. Dwarf sized busts of a ram's head flanked the entrance. "And it says here that the showroom door sits next to the blue lantern. That's the only blue lantern."

"That's what you said last time."

"In hindsight, that was clearly a goat, not a ram." Talcbreaker took the heavy iron key. After a long moment there was a satisfying click and the door swung open. "Aha! See!" He dashed inside, holding his dwarrowlamp. "So much space! The showroom alone is the size of father's house!"

Fistsilver grumbled, pulling the cart as he followed behind his brother. He then collided with him as he came out.

"What's wrong" Fistsilver asked. He had visions of giant spiders or a family of goblins squatting in filth.

"What's wrong with you, what are you doing?"

"Dragging all your junk into our new place."

"Weren't you paying attention? You can't get to the apartment and the workshop from here, this is the showroom. We use the private door to the courtyard. That way customers can't wander in and see our secret methods, or mosey up the stairs and bother our women."

"We have no secret methods or women."

"Well we'll never get any with that attitude! Here babybeard, you take the key and unlock the courtyard gate, and I'll drag the cart."

"Oh, how generous of you to pull it the last what, ten feet? I've been dragging it since we were still in daylight."

"You lost the coin toss fair and square!" His brother shouted. Fistsilver grumbled and unlocked the double doors leading into the courtyard. It opened into a wide dark space. There was a dim glow from the lights on the far side of the rectangle, and Fistsilver's own lamp seemed small and weak. Dim shapes of old statues loomed in the darkness. He picked a path to the workshop door, turning the dials on lamp posts as he passed. A few of them were in working order, casting faint blue or orange light. The Grandmasters had assured them that the workshop and two apartments had been cleared of debris, were structurally sound, and that the water and lights in them were working. He hadn't thought to ask about the other lights in the compound. He cursed his lack of foresight as he stumbled up the stairs. He didn't bother listening to his brother's excited shouts about their neighbors, remembering to turn on the lights in the shared dining room, stumbling into the hall. He took the first bedroom on the inner side. He found it surprisingly clean, but mainly he was interested in the wide stone bed and its deep cushion of fresh moss. He fell into it face first, and quickly fell asleep.

By the time Talcbreaker had finished hauling their belongings up into the apartment (complaining about his brother's unhelpfulness the whole time) Fistsilver had rolled onto his back and was snoring loudly. His brother found him there with a smile on his face.
 

eidur

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Dwimeryt

Dwimeryt is an alloy of iron, carbon, titanium and other elements. Secret of it's production is known only to the dwarves. It hasn't been produced in ages but since the magic started sinking back into the world, demand for dwimeryt rises. It has very strong anti magic properties. Old sources say:





"Rhaed aennes chained the mage. He immediately started screaming, his eyes turned yellow and he started vomiting. Once all contents of his stomach were on the ground. He started coughing blood. "





"A beaker was borne him, and bidding to quaff it
Graciously given, and gold that was twisted
Pleasantly proffered, a pairm of arm-jewels,
Rings, corslet armor shiniest 'neath heaven
Of duimeritte forged and readied
...
Young man, in safety, and use this thou this armor
gems of the dorfs will save you from the evil
...
The cruel one turned and sent thunder from the sky
Hero stood dashing, such an yrle should be ever,
an erst-worthy atheling, as Magna proved him.
Took no notice of dark one challanges
..."





images.jpg
 

BlackBishop

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The War in the North


March to Mountainshadow Hold

Siege of Mountainshadow

With the proposals for peace gone largely ignored during the Assembly of Lords, the hostilities in eastern Galadriel were destined to continue. House Celestian lifted its blockade of the Rill river after receiving a fair sum of gold from House Stronghelm, assuring orders from the Nord capital, as well as reinforcements, reach their armies being led by Ragnar the Black in Mountainshadow.

Though the supplies and fresh levies from Stronghelm found no blockade upon the Rill River to impede their travel, they were harassed while crossing by war parties carrying the banners of House Celestian. Though the imperial forces slowed the crossing of the reinforcement force, they did little damage and retreated before any challenge could be mustered.

By the end of Sun's Shadow, the siege of Mountainshadow Hold was well under way. Ragnar the Black ordered the castle to be completely surrounded, giving the garrison no reprieve.

Out beyond the main gate of Mountainshadow Hold is a great redwood tree. During the Age of Heroes, a great Elven King was laid to rest there, and a seed planted upon his grave. The tree, sacred to Mountainshadow, was cut down before the eyes of the Elven defenders to the lament of Ragnar's booming laughter. Throughout the month of Snowfall, Ragnar Ragnarson remained in his tent, the head of the great tree tucked within. The sound of chopping wood and his roaring singing and laughter could be heard.

As Serpentine came, the tent was taken down, revealing the head of the tree, stripped of branches, and carved in the shape of great bear's head. It took nearly 500 men to lift the large log, chains run along the bottom so the great ram would swing. As arrows rained down on them, and Ragnar the Black, mad and laughing, riding the head of the bear, the gates were broke open and the castle stormed.

In the name of his lord, Arl Arnulf The Young of Stronghelm, Ragnar the Black took the throne of Mountainshadow, finding the lord of the keep already passed, and imprisoned the ten year old boy who dared to sit upon the Arl's throne.

Victory!
Arl of Stronghelm has gained Prestige
and the province of Moutainshadow!
25 Gold Chests Earned!
4500/5000 Troops Remain!






Siege of Mirrorwater



With the garrison of Mirrorwater Hold overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Galadriel Alliance, the leadership of the Dwarven and Elven force, backed by the Imperial House Celestian guarding the Rill and fresh levies from the Pale, was confident that a victory would come to them over the winter.

The reports from the Celestian scouts came on a nearly daily basis, and as winter hit the camp of Deagrin Wrothiron, commander of the Alliance forces, it became clear that the army of Jarl Kvothe of Kalare, beaten back across the Rill last year, would not be marching to challenge them, preferring to quell the revolts across Kalare City.

As Light's End faded away, and Snowfall came upon the sieging army, the camp of UnderKing Wrothiron's forces became plagued by accidents and mishaps. One officer took a sudden fever and died, another wounded in a training exercise succumbed to his wounds and another appeared to have been killed during the night by a pack of wolves. These incidents were not limited to Deagrin's camp, however. House Coamenel's camp suffered the same strange occurrences as well as the Mahakam camp and Frostverd's camp.

One night, in mid Snowfall, the UnderKing was attacked in his tent whilst he slept. Thwarting the attempt on his life, the commander of the army discovered the agent to be of Imperial descent. It seemed that the accidents were anything but, and the camp had been infiltrated by assassins.

The very same night, the Jarl of Frostverd survived an attempt on his life. The assassin, again of Imperial descent, hid in the shadows of the Lord's tent only to emerge when the Jarl appeared to be sleeping. A struggle ensued and thanes of the Pale rushed into the tent to find their Lord standing victorious over the killer's body.

Though the mysterious killings ceased after that, the siege crumbled under sinking morale, desertions and failed assaults. By Serpentine the garrisons of Kalare held strong and the forces of the Alliance struggled to maintain discipline and bury their dead.

Alliance Defeat!

Coamenel Troops
5800/6400

Deagrin Troops
3100/4000

Mahakam Troops
4000/5000

Frostverd Troops
4800/5000


 
Last edited:

Galren

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Historical Sites in Herasnia

The Stone of Creation


An ancient record of the activity at the Stone of Creation. The three archways surrounding the stone are covered with these symbols.

Ever since the Age of Mythos, the first man to walk into Herasnia was greeted by the sight of the Stone of Creation. The Stone is believed to be one of the first creations of the Creator and is covered with mysterious runes. The priests of the time surrounded the stone with three large stone arches, all engraved in ancient writing of the time.

Today, pilgrimages to the Stone are common because it is often associated with the Creator. Many people, even serfs, get a chance to conduct a pilgrimage to the Stone. At the end of the Age of Darkness, the Creator is to have been last seen at the Stone of Creation. Pilgrims often leave food, drink, wreathes of flowers, and other items at the stone because the people believe that the Creator has a spiritual link to the Stone, since he left the world at the Stone.

The Tomb of Firuz Rostani


A group of priests are navigating the tomb.

Located in the Keep District in Almeria, the tomb, more accurately described as a catacomb, holds the remains of Firuz Rostani, members of the royal family, and the Immortals. The Immortals and members of the royal family besides Firuz are often called the Companions of Firuz. At an annual ceremony at the month of Dragoon, the entirety of Herasnia honors the memory of those in the tomb.

Caretakers, mostly old priestesses, maintain the catacomb while guarding it from grave robbers. Most of the grave robbers, however, are taken down by the caretakers after getting a surprising beat down from the priestesses.

((For an image, think of an old lady beating down a guy with a broom or her fists.))

Recently, Firuz has been confirmed to be in his tomb because he was buried with his shield and sword when he died. The same items were found in his tomb after opening it up.
 
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BlackBishop

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The War of the Triumvirate


The City Watch of the Golden City investigates subversive activities

Rebel Yell

The Assembly of Lords was barely closed when the Golden City came under attack by an aggressive campaign of espionage. Unlike the slave revolts of the previous year, this uprising was of a different nature. Rather than slave revolting, it was the city's middle class, demanding the end of the metropolis's current leadership. Bards, Criers and other miscreants flooded the streets and spread rumours and lies in order to incite the citizens into arms against the Lords of the city.

Cold winds of Snowfall brought frost as well as open rebellion. Riots broke out across the city. However, Mathlion, along with the Lord-Commander of the city watch were able to crush these revolts and restore order. Shorty after the failed uprising, the city awoke to great plumes of smoke rising into the air one frosty morning. For two days the storehouses, and surrounding areas, burned and choked in flames. After several days of an intense investigation, the Lord-Commander of the City Watch announced that the culprits were members of the City Watch - Corrupt officers who were swayed by promises of gold and power. Who paid the officers was unknown.

With the criminal officers either in hiding or fled from the city, the City Watch came under close scrutiny. It was no surprise when yet another plot was uncovered. A second attempt to bribe City Watch guards with gold and power. This time, the gold offered bound corrupt guards to open the gates of the Golden City and secure the surrender. It was an ambitious plot, but was stopped in its tracks by Mathlion, who uncovered Duke Asharian Krestarii to be behind it.




Battle of the Rill Delta

In light of the unrest in the Golden City, High Steward Mathlion raised his fleet and ordered a blockade of the river delta. The ships guarded the mouth of the Rill as a fleet of warships from Misr, claiming to be taking part in training excercised in Azeratti city sailed past the blockade. Suddenly the fleet of Hronidian ships, backed by ships from Azeratti, broke from their formation and attacked the Imperial fleet.

The battle was waged all day as ships crashed into each other, crews mounted enemy vessels and the clash of steel rang to the song of arrows. The waters of the Rill turned red as night came and through the chaos of the naval battle, a formation of Misri ships broke through and landed their forces along the shores of the Harbour District of the Golden City.

The slums of the Harbour District were the most vulnerable part of the Golden City. Being outside the high walls made it an easy target for the Misri army and Krestarii war ships. By sunrise they had built a camp and preparations were in place to begin a siege of the former capital of the Golden Empire.





The Battle of Burnt Bridge

With the Harbour District secured by the Misri army, a joint force of Herasnian and Azerattian troops, 15 000 strong, marched from the north. It would be at the former camp of the rebellion, the town of Burnt Bridge, where they would clash with the Golden Army. Desperate to defend his city, and the sovereignty of the Golden City, Mathlion ordered the formation of the army in secret. On the farm fields before the city, the armies clashed.

Leading the Golden Army was the Lord-Commander of the Citywatch, Gerald of Westelli. Leading the invading force was unknown. There seemed to be confusion amongst their ranks which was taken advantage of by the defenders.

Under a volley of arrows, the armies clashed. The Golden Army sent sorties of heavy horse, hidden through the forests, to ride out and trample infantry charging behind the protection of their own cavalry. The tactic worked well, but enemy archers and spearmen soon sent the Golden horses into route.

Forming a wall of spears, the invading cavalry crashed into the armies of the city. The terrible scream of the horses rang shrill in the air. As the day of death dragged on, it became clear that the forces of the city were winning the day. Lord Gerald had cut a bloody swath through the enemy ranks, and his knights had put up an impenetrable wall around their lord-captain. Gerald leaned against his banner, driven into the earth, as his knights pushed an unlucky enemy soldier into their trap.

"Was it you?" Asked the lord. The soldiers eyes looked at the man through his helm. "Was it you who killed my horse?!" Gerald charged, with a flourish of blows he broke the enemy's sword and sunk his blade under his breast plate.

Try as they might, the charges of the Hroniden and Imperials couldn't break the circle of knights protecting their lord, though one or two would be allowed in the circle for the sport of their commander. Always he would accuse them of killing his horse before sending them to their deaths. He cried, he cursed, he laughed, he sang, always of his horse, before the screams of dying were heard. This was the soundtrack of the battle before Gerald's banner. But soon, it broke.

A mighty horn went up in the air from the south. It was the Misri, announcing their victory in the harbour district. Before reinforcements could link up with the joint army, Lord-Commander Gerald of Westalli sounded the retreat, and the Golden Army marched back, carrying what wounded they could, and moved back behind the protection of the city walls.

The victory was short lived with the invaders. For frantic messages soon reached them. One of their accomplices failed to show up for the battle, and news came of treachery, war, and burning cities from the West....


Victory!
Golden City Emergency Stores Burned!
Harbour District Sacked!
25 Gold Earned!
Prestige Earned!

Shah Saladin
6900/7500 Troops remain

Shah Asad
6300/7500 Troops Remain

Duke Krestarii
6300/7500 troops Remain

The Golden Army
9400 Troops Remain
 
Last edited:

jeeshadow

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((I would like to post my resignation from this game))
 

BlackBishop

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((I would like to post my resignation from this game))

((We haven't even got into the 2nd act, Jee.... Lots of things still to come, and plenty of opportunities to turn things around. The war of the Triumvirate just started, you can't leave us now! Afterall what's a triumvirate with only two lords?))
 

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The War of the Triumvirate



The Invasion of Hroniden


Having been forewarned about the coming siege on the Golden City, Mathlion sent a desperate plea for help to his friend, ArchMage Qylan, who had already been preparing for a war to liberate slaves in Agorath. It wasn't long before other allies were enlisted in a bold plan to weaken the assault on the city. Though the High Steward breathed not a word in the Assembly in hopes of maintaining peace, forces gathered to aid the beleaguered city.

Warchief Ra'Gru of Goi'Orka, whom served the City faithfully as Lord-General, had been privy to the councils of the Shahs Asad and Saladin and Duke Asharian of Krestarii. Ra'Gru pledged his support of the Triumvirate only to turn on the three lords and present the plans to the ArchMage. With Ra'Gru reporting what he could learn from their battle plans, Qylan enlisted the aid of Therain Eylinn, who called on Zephan of Huaindren and a force of 11 000 troops to lay siege to Herasnia, Hroniden.

Ra'Gru commanded a force of 6500 troops that he brought down from the mountains to assault Misr from the north, while ArchMage Qylan, leading a force of 5000, escaped slaves, hedgeknights, and Acolytes, to assault Misr from the east.

The supply lines of the two Shahs were immediately cut and sieges begun upon their cities.




Herasnia Burns

Therain Eylinn, and Master Zephan Huaindren commanded a joint army of 11 500 troops. Overwhelming the garrisons of desert province was easier said than done. The walls of Asad's castle was high and supplies to feed the large army were scarce in the desert. They had to rely on their convoys that came slowly through Highathar.

Preferring a quick siege as opposed to risking thirst in the desert, the joint army elected to quick assaults on the lightly manned fortresses of the province. Shah Asad himself was leading the defense of his province, but with the sheer numbers of the enemy, it was a losing battle. Sending out small bands of desert warriors accomplished much in way of disrupting the invader's supply lanes, but they were just too few to make any real impact. Asad led a valiant sortie against the Elves but with his best fighters sieging the Golden City, Asad was soon forced to retreat after suffering heavy losses. By the end of Snowfall, Herasnia fell.


Victory!
Prestige Earned!
15 Gold Chests Earned!
Asad in the custody of Therain Eylinn

Eylinn of Mindrilla
6100/6500 Troop Remain

Zephren of Huaindren
4500/500 Troops Remain






Siege of Mutikabir

Orcs came down from the mountains en mass to break the fortresses and holdfasts of the Misr while their army and lord were away fighting in Ecclestius. As Ra'Gru and his clan assaulted from the north, Qylan and his army attacked from the east. It wasn't long before the desert people were driven from their homes in fear of the Orc onslaught. Qylan and his army strode the desert releasing slaves and burning holdfasts.

The garrisons of Misr were quickly overwhelmed and retreated behind the walls of Mutikabir. The river, void of the great fleet of Misr, kept the sieging army watered and fed. As Snowfall passed and Serpentine came, the unrest and starvation within the city was rampant and after a winter siege of intense fighting, Mutikabir surrendered.

Vitcory!
Misr is held by Ra'Gru and Qylan
10 Chests Earned!
Prestige Earned!

ra'Gru of Goi'Orka
6100/6500 troops remain

ArchMage Qylan
4400/5000 Troops Remain
 

GreatSlayer

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Virtuous Adolescence

They arrived at Balen Don when the sun reached its zenith. Diplomatic colours were hoisted since the border crossing, and riders had informed the new Lord that an army was approaching in peace. Except for the occasional Ent spotting, the travel had been uneventful. The old tree wardens had become mad, and were attacking villages and farms across Galadriel without remorse. It was a strange sight by a people who always had seen the Ents as their own kin, protecting the forest from evil. Not becoming it. Eylinn approached the gate with her sister and mentor in tow. The same guards as last time she was here stood in attention, ready to let them in.

“The great Lord and Master, Zephfan Huaindren, have agreed to see you, milady!” She gave a polite nod, and the gate was opened. The same air of uncertainty and discomfort that she had felt the last time she was here, hit her as they rode towards the town square. There was great sadness in this place, one that echoed from the back of Human and Dwarven slaves carrying the menial and heavy tasks of everyday labour under the whip. Her chest felt tight and it was somewhat difficult to breath.

“Evhana…” She looked at her sister. “I don’t want you to see this. But at the same time, I really can’t hide the world from you forever.” She stopped her horse. “If you want to go back to the carriage, I won’t stop you. It’s your choice from now on.” A luxury Eylinn had not been given. Evhana rolled her eyes.
“Wouldn’t I’ve just stayed in the carriage if I didn’t want to come? You’re so dumb, sister. You make it sound like you had a choice to bring me or not.” Surprised by her younger sister’s indifference to her concern, Eylinn still decided to feel relieved. She was independent enough, that’s for certain. But she had no idea if it was for her own sake, or if it was because it was expected of her.
“Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you start to take ill.” Evhana shrugged. Alvon said nothing. They left their horses at the stable, and proceeded up to the castle by foot. The doors opened and the three stepped in, Eylinn first.

“The Mistress of Green Chasm, Therain Eylinn Mindrilla!” She was presented by the steward, who had taken a central position in the room. Eylinn gave a small curtsey and then continued to walk up the aisle towards the throne. Upon it sat a boy, only sixteen, just like her. An aura of great sorrow radiated from the boy, and he clenched the armrests as she approached. Suspicious, Eylinn slowed down to a halt. “What is he so uneasy about? I didn’t bring any weapon...” She looked around, trying to locate his source of fear. With a discreet move with his left leg, he tried to rise from his chair, only to be stopped by his sister, Zephfa.

“Brother, be polite. She’s here to pay her respect.” The girl looked upon Eylinn with a stale smile. “Isn’t that so, Therain?”
“Yes… Yes of course. I wish to offer my sincerest condolences to you, Master Zhephan.” She straightened her back, correcting herself. “And to you as well, Lady Zephfa.” Eylinn was at loss. Why wasn’t the boy greeting her? Had she made such a grave mistake that it was in fact the sister she was supposed to address? Was she the new ruler? “But I am also here to ask for hel…”

“No.” The young Master spoke, barely a whisper. “We can’t help.” Eylinn’s heart skipped a beat. She was not prepared for such a swift decline. She wasn’t even given the chance to explain what required their assistance. The boy refused to look upon her more than through a few faint glances.

“Milord, let me just explain with what…”
“No.” She became frustrated, and started to walk closer. “Hold it!” She wouldn’t. “I said, hold it!” She stopped. The boy finally looked at her now.
“Milord, I beg of you! Listen to what I have to say!” The walls pulsated in the ensuing silence. A hall, far, far bigger than any room or house in Green Chasm. An impressive, intimidating structure, worthy of the tales surrounding it. Yet here was this boy, seemingly unready to even speak with her, so much unlike his father, or at least, what she knew about him. Zephfan adjusted himself on his throne, assuming a more regal position.
“Go on then.” Eylinn moved closer still, looking at the steward. Zephfan signalled for him to leave. When she was next to the throne, barely an arm’s length away, she started to speak again.

“A far greater concern is brewing in the south, bigger than that of Ents, Nords or slavers. Bigger than the war to liberate our forest from Men. I’ve been informed of a plot to install a new emperor. One that will hand down crowns to his loyal backers, one that aims to subdue all Elves and Dwarves.” Eylinn leaned forward, whispering. “With sword, fire, and intrigue they will attempt to invade the Golden City.” It was hard to read the boy’s reactions. He kept staring straight forward, past Eylinn, resting his chin on his arm and stroking himself over the lips. Deep in thought, or deep in worry? For her, it had been fear and a heavy heart. “I’m showing you a lot of trust, telling you this. But I need your help if we’re to stop this from happening.”

“Who told you of this?”
“I swore to not say. But we’re not alone, that’s all I can tell you.” The boy looked down.
“If men are united in this, how could we possibly stop them?”

“We can only try, milord.” She took his hand. The pale face under his purple hair turned red. He was cold to the touch. “Listen, I know how you feel. My father died not a year ago. You feel lost, alone, burdened to have been given this responsibility so soon. But your father wouldn’t have wished this for you, yet, you may still have to fight.” She squeezed his hand harder, as if to stable herself more than anything. “I promise you this. In Coal, Master Armas is gathering any intelligence on your father’s whereabouts. If they find out where the Darkness has taken him, I will join. I will do everything in my power to bring him back. And I know you want to as well.” Her heart was racing, hoping she was doing this right. “But now, the realm needs us. Only the Light or Dark knows what Men would do to us if they gained the crown again.” The boy looked down on her hand, her feet, her chest and finally her eyes, before turning his away.
“Alright, I will follow you to the South.” Eylinn gave a smile of relief. “We will ride out tomorrow, I insist.”
“Of course, milord.” She stepped back and offered another curtsey before turning around and left.


Eylinn was done with being passive, see the evil events unfold before her eyes and do nothing. She wanted to change the world, or at least, prevent it from changing into something she couldn't endure living in. Something within her control, or at least, something she could influence. A world where she could be at peace, or at least, peaceful enough for her sister to grow up in.
"Do I need to ride in the carriage again?" Evhana looked at her with a sullen face. The smile on Eylinn's face was unmistakable. With the help she needed, they would now travel to the other side of the world, and that is an awfully long journey to spend in a carriage.
"You can ride with me during daylight, but not a minute more." She acted out a grimace of fake rigor, very similar to Alvon's perpetual expression. "And no unnecessary excursions from the train, or I will smack your ears with the flatside of my blade." Evhana didn't seem to get the joke, and only raised her eyebrows, perplexed.
"War is making you evil, sister." Eylinn let out an insincere laughter.
"I certainly hope so. I would have felt terrible if it made me pleasant." She lowered her head. "Gratification from death, to whomever it were bestowed, should be their undoing." If she really meant it, she did not know.
She had felt serene in battle, but surely not happiness. Or did she? All she knew was that the next day, they wouldn't be heading out to fight the sick, the wicked, or the Dark one. But yet, to stop these from ever emerging, it was necessary to crash down on living Men. Surely, this must be so? That's what she had been told. Surely the Archmage and the Orc was right in this, were they not? The thoughts her sister had evoked made it hard to sleep that night, but the comfort from being surrounded by her loved ones, finally cradled her to sleep.

"It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?"
 
Last edited:

BlackBishop

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((An update still to come on the fate of the recon mission in the Ashen Wastes.... Lots going on in Agorath right now, feel free to do an IC of your results this turn while i update stats and prepare for the next update.))
 

Bialaska

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An end to the mourning

As news reached Three Rivers, a Lord in Mourning was starting to recover. Still he blamed both himself and others for the death of his sister, but he had recently received word about an increase in the number of prostitutes and gamblers in his magnificent city. It was not until word reached him that the one behind this was his own son Antonius, that the Duke broke through his depression, fueled by anger. This anger grew when he heard how the Golden City had been attacked. Oh, he did not really care about the Golden City, except as a symbol of a fallen Empire, no the anger came from the fact that his son was in the city. A son who could not then be suitable punished for his attempt to ruin the reputation of the great Three Rivers.

"Send word to the lords and ladies of Agorath," he began, as the summoned scribe began writing down.

"I, Justinus Celestian, do not condone the attack of the Golden City. Such action is beyond the scope of common decency and those taking such actions should withdraw instantly. Otherwise Three Rivers will send aid to liberate the Golden City from those who attack the sacred city."
 

Deaghaidh

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Wrothiron glowered at the camp. He wasn't pleased with the state of things at all. The trebuchets were taking far too long to erect. Parties he sent into the forest to cut down the necessary timber tended to meet with misfortune, no doubt due to the damned Ents. At every turn, his orders were executed sloppily, slowly, or incompetently. Discipline was suffering as the tedium of the siege set in. His own dwarves were restless to be under the disapproving gaze of the trees, the Mahakam dwarves resented every effort to impose proper discipline and order, and the elves were elves.

Every morning and every evening, Wrothiron had to remind himself why he was here instead of comfortably ensconced in his own citadel. His daughter lived in Galadriel now. The Nords were a threat to peace in Galadriel. Therefore, the Nords were threats to his daughter and must be destroyed. The logic was good enough for him, but he suspected it was less persuasive to the loyal militia that made up most of his army. Their thoughts must turn even more often to their safe, warm homes, their loved ones and their forges and workshops. He was proud of them for following him this far.

The weak winter sun was setting, scattering rays of orange light over the lake. The Underking shivered slightly, feeling the cold press of his crown on his temples. It was beautifully wrought of course, etched with elaborate gold filigree and a tiny ring of runes of power. It was forged of a single piece of stainless steel, the favored metal of Kogansunan dwarves for sacred objects. Seven sharp triangles pointed down (since he was Underking, not High King) one for the peaks of each of the seven pairs of Fathers and Mothers. Its weight was growing more familiar each day.

He returned to the small manor he had commandeered as his command post. He gave orders to his sworn shields, telling him to wake him for anything of consequence. He set his crown upside down on the nightstand in the master bedroom. As was his custom when on campaign, he climbed into bed still wearing his golden steel mail. He swiftly fell into a discontented sleep.

Several hours later his sworn shields heard a thump and a short, pained cry. They burst into the room to find their lord looming over the shape of a man. In the torch and lamp light his black clad shape was hard to make out. But they had no trouble seeing his face and neck. The left eye was wide and shocked, and the shining crown gleamed in the firelight, the polished steel turning slowly red. The assassin's blood seeped around the edges of the symbolic mountains, three peaks buried into his flesh in an arc from under his chin to the dead center of his right eye.

"When I was young, he would have killed me. I always slept sound as stone then." The Underking said quietly. "Take him away, and search him thoroughly. Make note of every detail, his every scar or mark, the make of his clothes, everything. You never know what might be a clue to his identity." He tugged on his crown, which wiggled slightly but stayed in place. Frowning, he placed his foot on the assassin's chest and heaved, wrenching it free while slicing and tearing the killer's flesh. The weakening beat of the dying man's heart pushed blood out onto the floor.

The Underking frowned slightly, and handed his crown to one of his sworn shields. "Have this washed." he said.
 

GreatSlayer

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The Shah of Herasnia​

Eylinn looked down on her journal. The air struck her with its heat, forcing the sweat to escape her pores. Even in winter, Hroniden was tropical. The lack of water had forced her people to prioritize thirst over hygiene, for what little could be brought from the land without being stopped by the raid-parties of Herasnia was not much left for cleaning or wash. She had worn the same field-dress for days, and the odour was a perpetual nuisance.

“Sister...” Evhana lied on her bed, drained of all energy. “This is how a duck feels like, isn’t it?” Eylinn did not expect her to talk about food in her condition. “I’m never eating duck again.” What an adorable little liar. “Maybe if it was served with vinegar sauce.” There we go. “And some rabbit by the side.”
“When was the last time you drank?” The carafe was empty.
“I can’t remember. What day is it?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Oh, then maybe... Noon?” Eylinn didn’t know if Evhana was her usual self, or if she was really turning ill. “How was the city?” Men screaming, bodies everywhere, the slippery blooded grass, the fear in the townspeople’s eyes as they marched through the gate.
“It was fine. Not enough trees.”
“That’s sad.” It was.

Alvon entered the tent, just as Eylinn thought she’d have a moment to spare, tormenting herself with the figures again. All nine hundred of them.
“My Therain, we need to talk.” He looked at Evhana and raised an eyebrow. With the snip of his finger, he had loosened his hip flask and thrown it to her on the bed. “Drink.” Evhana knocked her chest in what would mean to appear as a salute.
“Yes, general, sir.” Eylinn and her mentor stepped out of the tent.

“What is it?” She adopted a strict face to brace for whatever he had to say.
“The Shah surrendered. We hold his entire household captive, along with his vassals.” He rested his hand on the sword grip. “Do you wish to strike them yourself, or will you give me the pleasure?” Eylinn just looked at him. “It could end the war.”
“Maybe this one. What about the one that follows?” The stench from her clothes distracted her. “I wish to speak with the Shah. Put him in one of the tents and tell him I’ll be there shortly. I need to put on something clean.”
“Yes, Therain.”

Finally free from the rank smell, she stopped on her way to the tent in order to catch a glimpse of her new prisoners. The well guarded nobles stood in an orderly line. Husbands and wives, the vassals by the side, and the children clinging to their mothers hands. “What in the Light did he do before I knew him? Was he ready to kill them all?” The sight of a young man caught her interest further. Black neat hair and of tall stature. Eyes of hazel and a proud looking face. “A man of courage.” She thought. “Zaahir Farrah Rostani.” She tilted her head. ”Look closer...” The young man met her eyes. In a flash, she was gone.

Eylinn entered the tent and saw Asad sitting on the other side of the table. He was securely bound. She went for the cupboard by the entrance and pulled out an ornate vessel filled with clear water, and a glass. She poured it to the brim and brought it over to the table, putting it in front of the Shah, before she sat down in front of him at the other end of it. They studied each other for a moment before Eylinn broke the silence.
“Release his ropes.” A guard stepped forward and cut the man free. Asad looked at the glass in front of him.

“You wish to poison me so soon?” She moved her hands further down her lap before straightening herself further towards the back of her chair.
“You know better than I do. It’s your water.” The Shah carefully lifted the glass and took a small sip.
“It is.” He crossed his arms and took a more relaxed position. “What do you want with me?”

“Look at me, and tell me what you see.”
“I see my captor. You have the power to do whatever you want with me.” He tasted his own lips before helping himself to another sip. “And I’m not yet dead.” Eylinn smiled with her mouth, but not with her eyes.
“My mentor would have it so, should I’ve followed his advice.”
"So what will it be? Killing me? Or would you rather have my gold?” She made another attempt of a stern look, a regal one, but she found herself flushing.
“I’ve already set you free, milord.” Asad lifted his hand to cover his mouth, intensely looking for any sign of deceit in hers.

“So I’m free to go? And my...”
“Your family, your vassals, your court. I don’t want them. I only wish to talk with you, for I have questions, if you’d indulge me.” He paused for a second before giving her a nod.
“About what?”
“Why would you do this? Why would a Human of Hroniden, stronger than that of Azerati, wish to see the Krestarii on the imperial throne? What could you possibly have gained?”
"Well, if the plot was successful, I probably would've been asked to swear allegiance to the Triumvirate anyway, now wouldn’t I?"

“So they forced you into this?”
"Not exactly. I felt threatened by them, and if they had won, they could’ve conquered us anyhow with the Golden Army in the vanguard. That's why I joined it. The position of power it could have offered was just a bonus. All I really wanted was for some security from an invasion of my lands.” Eylinn’s eyes narrowed as she scoffed before gently drumming her fingers against her cheek.
“And look how that turned out. Here we are.” The Shah did not appreciate the mockery, that was for certain. He pounded his fist in the table.

“You’re not even fully grown! You have no idea how it feels to get into situations like these.” She stopped her drumming and instead chose to rise and Asad followed suite.
“No, milord. In that we are the same.” She straightened her dress before turning to his face with a smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Just questions to answer. What will be of my home?”

“Your home is your home. Besides, I could never have survived in this heat, neither would my sister.” She gave him a neutral look... “We will still be blocking your army’s supplies until the Triumvirate surrender or we have to fight them.” ...until her face turned sombre... “After we’ve broken the chains of Elven slaves in your lands, you are free to return. But...” ...before she smiled again. “I will only plead to you, and hope, you will release the rest yourself.” She wanted to believe he was a good man, a victim of the circumstances, with a will to do what was right. She didn’t want to be alone in her convictions, even when it came to Humans. She gave him a curtsy before heading for the entrance to take her leave.
“Wait.” She stopped and turned her head around. “Why would you set me free?” She looked up into the roof.
“I don’t know. It just felt better.” And with those last words, she was gone.
 
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Deaghaidh

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Eylinn Mindrilla frees the 7500 Elven slaves in Herasnia.
Eylinn Mindrilla returns control of Herasnia to Shah Asar Imir Rostani.
Eylinn Mindrilla frees her prisoners for no ransom or obligation.

"She what?"

Deagrin Wrothiron had earned his name in his youth. His temper was a frightening thing. His father had taught him the discipline needed to master it, to make the roaring wildfire into something like a useful forge. In fact there were very few left alive who had ever seen him truly furious.

The poor guard who delivered the message was not one of them, and he'd turned white. "Lady M-Min" he stammered.

"I head you. Leave the letter and go." The young dwarf bobbed his head in deference and bolted out the door, pulling it shut behind him. The Underking of Kogansunan read the tiny scroll the raven had brought again, glowering.

"ELVES!" he roared, and hurled a glass goblet at the door. It shattered, and he immediately felt foolish, and the shame of that feeling made him angry in a different way.

It was bad enough that he had been left out of the planning. He was here, in this damned forest, fighting their enemies for them. But did they let him know the magnitude of the coming crisis? No, they played the coy elves and hinted at "big events" that would keep their forces away. Meanwhile his troops were dying in the woods. Suppose the battle had gone ill? He would have been a thousand leagues from his own land, with enemies on his frontier.

And when they win the battle, scoring a coup that would knock an enemy out of the war forever, what does the girl do? She gives him back their keep and his army and his city, without punishment, without ransom, without even a hollow promise to behave properly. If she wasn't willing to strike the fellow's head off, why fight in the first place? A man you wouldn't kill is an inconvenience at worst, not a true enemy. It was one thing to offer an enemy easy terms so they will surrender a stronghold without bloodshed. But to take a city with fire and blood, and then give it back? He couldn't conceive of what was going through her mind.

At this rate, when he took Mirrorwater the elves would no doubt apologize to the Nords for the inconvenience and chastise him for getting the town dirty. They clearly had no concept of what war meant.

Deagrin Wrothiron's hands shook with fury. He wanted to tell his troops to strike camp and march home, and leave the damned fool elves to fight their own battles. But blood of his warriors had been spilt, and his word had been given. He would see this siege through at least.
 

Galren

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He thought he was dead. When the invaders came, he could only hold of the inevitable. Only a few brave men could only do so much ... He wasn't surprised to find himself a prisoner of the elves. The elves tied him up in a chair at the end of the table, and a glass of water was brought in front of him. He knew he was about to be interrogated. Now, he faces his captor ...





'My gosh ..." Asad said as he entered Almeria. There was burnt wood, crumbled stone, and dead bodies everywhere. Soldiers leaving the city were giving him dirty looks. People were huddled in corners at their fires while cooking up whatever was found in the odd barrel. The people looked at Asad as if they had seen a ghost. People were attempting to rebuild their houses and their lives. As he returned to the castle, the people were celebrating with the meager supplies they have. He returned to his castle and began to wonder how he would rebuild his city. He noticed his son Zaahir had a look on his face that was unmistakable. "I already have enough headaches today," he muttered to himself.
 

Bialaska

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A tale...

"A tale of fools and jesters, that is what it is," Duke Justinus of Three Rivers said, as he looked down at the report just received by messenger raven. He turned to face his advisors.

"The retarded elf of the Green Chasm appears to have captured Almeria and the ruler, only to then release him?" he asked, before continuing. "Is she completely spineless? Maybe I should send someone to slaughter her family and all I would hear would be for her to tell me that my I had been a bad boy and how disappointed she was."

"As if that was not enough, there is an attack on the Golden City. Apparently there were some rulers who thought that by taking the Golden City it would make them Emperors? Are they complete idiots? If anything, such an action would just unite the rest of Agorath against them, destroying them and their dreams, something which seems to take place already."

With a frown on his lips he then looked at the Commander of the River Guard. "And these whores. I do not want Three Rivers to have ill repute. Take care of the problem."

He looked at he scribe.

"Send word that Antonius are to return the second the siege is over. The boy is a fool and does not know the consequences of his actions."

With that he dismisses his council, the Duke of Three Rivers now back and ready to resume control over his demesne.