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The ambassador of Green Chasm rose to speak.

"Dear Arnulf, you use a wide array of words that are simply not true.
You call this an Elven invasion, when it is in fact led by two Dwarves. Humans are blocking your river, and all Elven armies of Coamenel was reported to have been present in Mirrorwater.

Men invaded Galadriel in the age of heroes and stole the land from Elven kin. They were rightfully driven out once before and returned to the Elves who First sat in the seats in Mirrorwater and Mountainshadow. An occupation can by no means be called righteous territory of anyone, be them king or not.

The only chance for the Elves to react against the invasion of Mirrorwater had been to withdraw troops from the quarantine called by the assembly, or withdraw from the war against Corpus. Is this what you had wanted? Because the honourable lord Kvothe sent not one single soldier to the quarantine, while the Elven lords sent three thousand. Lord Kvothe Kalare used his troops to break down the fortress of Mirrowater when the realm needed his troops.

As for the raids... I do not know who is behind it, but I can swear as master Armas dedicated his entire force to Mirrorwater, and all the armies of Green Chasm has spent time at home, these raiders are of an unknown assailant. I would never call it justified, but Nords have raided the Elves for hundreds of years. And our kin has been sold as slaves throughout the whole empire, as a consequence of these invasions and raids. So as little these culprit can claim higher ground for returning in kind, as little can the Nords in what they call honourable warfare."

Eylinn Mindrilla by proxy of her ambassador, suggest a counter proposal where Nords will withdraw their troops and occupation of Galadriel lands if they wish peace.
 
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my pc is fried, im forced to using mobile. ill try to keep up withe the game the best i can but no ics from me for some time. i give house deagrin compleye control of my army till i fix this.
 
Announcent of the Three Rivers:

"Let it be known that House Celestian has not taken action in order to force money from Stronghelm into our own coffers. The war reparations is meant to be for the elves suffering under an attack which we believe is unjust, and as part of the demand, Stronghelm must accept either accept or suggest a white peace. It is only if Mountainshadow makes further demands that Stronghelm will be allowed to refuse, and at such a point we should have a negotiation for peace."
 
The ambassador of Green Chasm rose to speak.

"Dear Arnulf, you use a wide array of words that are simply not true.
You call this an Elven invasion, when it is in fact led by two Dwarves. Humans are blocking your river, and all Elven armies of Coamenel was reported to have been present in Mirrorwater.

Men invaded Galadriel in the age of heroes and stole the land from Elven kin. They were rightfully driven out once before and returned to the Elves who First sat in the seats in Mirrorwater and Mountainshadow. An occupation can by no means be called righteous territory of anyone, be them king or not.

The only chance for the Elves to react against the invasion of Mirrorwater had been to withdraw troops from the quarantine called by the assembly, or withdraw from the war against Corpus. Is this what you had wanted? Because the honourable lord Kvothe sent not one single soldier to the quarantine, while the Elven lords sent three thousand. Lord Kvothe Kalare used his troops to break down the fortress of Mirrowater when the realm needed his troops.

As for the raids... I do not know who is behind it, but I can swear as master Armas dedicated his entire force to Mirrorwater, and all the armies of Green Chasm has spent time at home, these raiders are of an unknown assailant. I would never call it justified, but Nords have raided the Elves for hundreds of years. And our kin has been sold as slaves throughout the whole empire, as a consequence of these invasions and raids. So as little these culprit can claim higher ground for returning in kind, as little can the Nords in what they call honourable warfare."

Eylinn Mindrilla by proxy of her ambassador, suggest a counter proposal where Nords will withdraw their troops and occupation of Galadriel lands if they wish peace.

Arnulf the Young stands up, his eyes are glistening:

Yes, Dwarves and Humans are participating in this unjustified attack as well. But they are only a part of a coalition led by elves, they are hired by them - and they further the interests of the Elven lords in this affair. If a killer, who is a Dwarf, hired by an Elf, strikes me with a knife - I will still say, that I was murdered by Elves, my dear ambassador, because the Dwarf was only an instrument! I am speaking about the substance of this business, not about certain details of it.

Mirrorwater and Mountainshadows have sworn allegiance to our ancestors -that protected them from their neighbours in return. Such oath is sacred, and the right of kings and lords to govern their vassals is sacred as well. If a Nord will inherit a lordship in Galadriel - will you still deny him his lawful property, because of your prejudices? Just because you believe that your race is better and higher than our? Well, we do not think so - we are the lawful overlords of Mirrorwater and Mountainshadows, and want our rights to be respected.

You say, that Nords have raided Elven lands for hundreds of years - well, this is in the past. Elves have attacked our lands too - but we are not talking about this time.There is a simple fact - neither me nor Kalare have attacked or raided lands of our assailants, their vassals and allies. We were attacked and raided by them, just because they do not want Norseland to become stronger. Just because they want to conquer this lands themselves, and ignore our ancient rights. And there is an another simple fact - we fought honorably and in an open manner - and they hit us in the back. It would not do.

- Arnulf the Young, Arl of Stronghelm, descendant of the Last King
 
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The nords had no trouble with launching attacks upon Galadriel in the first place, but now that their neighbors strike back they howl in protest.

If you would claim lands by right of conquest, you have no one but yourself to blame if your enemies do the same to you
 
((Assembly has been delayed until tomorrow, so even more time for some juicy ICs of your results this turn. I have an IC myself in the works, as well as updating stats and a mini on a certain player's devious plot from last turn.))
 
Lore Dump: Dwarven Burial Customs and the Catacombs of Kogansunan

Though customs vary throughout the dwarven diaspora, the Dwarves of Kogansunan take pride in maintaining the "true" ancient Dwarven practices. For them a proper Dwarven burial requires at minimum a stone or metal coffin and an engraved stone memorial. The two need not necessarily reside together, and in fact it is not at all uncommon to find memorial slabs and stele along the passages used by the deceased dwarf's living descendants, or in statue gardens in courtyards of dwarven apartment complexes.* Some historians maintain that actual coffins were once placed in such public spaces, lining the major avenues and stairwells, but desecration of graves during sieges led to their being relocated to the catacombs.

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The Catacombs of Kogansunan are a maze of winding corridors and rooms carved into the heart of the mountain. Contrary to popular belief, there is in fact not a single network of catacombs. Rather these tunnels are multiple separate systems, connected via vaulted antechambers. Different catacombs are dedicated to different bloodlines and social classes. The reason for this is that the basic layout of the catacombs follows no set plan, but instead began as exhausted mines. Once stripped of the useful minerals that attracted the miners, passages have been smoothed, widened, and engraved over the centuries. New paths were mined to connect these disused mines to one another, and the connections between the mines and smelters and metal shops were sealed up. The resulting passages are a distinct change from the highly organized and standardized layout of the inhabited layers of Kogansunan, as tunnels wind and twist to follow the long-vanished ores.

Most dead dwarves are laid to rest in alcoves branching off a major passageway. The passages are generally associated with a particular family or craft guild (in practice, most dwarves are born into both). The relative wealth of these groups at the time of the dwarf's death, and the esteem the dwarf was held in by them, is reflected in the amount of decoration and complexity of the tomb. Stone statuary is a common companion to a coffin, sometimes (but not always) linked to some sort of trap. Engravings relating events of the dwarf's life, the circumstances of his death, or prayers for the rest of the spirit are usually found as well.

Honored warriors are typically buried apart from the general population in dedicated crypts. Custom is to bury warriors with a shield and axe or hammer, even if those were not their choice of weapons in life. In some cases these are the actual weapons used by the dwarf in life, but more often they are symbolic objects, made out of a precious metal or a highly prestigious type of stone (such as obsidian). These are not buried in the coffin with the dwarf, but placed on a rack built into the wall of the crypt. A stone chest is typically placed at the foot of the coffin to receive votive offerings on the Days of Remembrance. The warriors in any given crypt are typically either relatives, comrades in arms, or dwarves killed in the same battle.

On some occasions it is not possible to bury dwarves in individual tombs. This commonly occurs after large scale battles far from the Mountainhomes. In these cases it is customary for the dwarves to dig a common grave for the slain and raise a cairn of stones atop it. Ideally their comrades will later return to reinter the fallen properly. If that is not possible, memorial stele are often placed in crypts instead.

In the case of the recently constructed tomb for the fallen of the Corpus Crisis, the remains of the fallen were laboriously transported by oxcarts, then interred in two massive stainless steel sarcophagi, depending on which battle they were slain in. Golden axes and obsidian shields line the walls, one set for each of the 1200 dwarves who perished. 120 stone statues of dwarf soldiers stand in ranks, no two identical, forming a silent shield wall. Two massive basalt stele list the names of each fallen dwarf, and outside the entrance to the crypt is a massive granite obelisk, carved with descriptions of the war against the undead. It is by far the most spectacular crypt built in Kogansunan in living memory, eclipsing even the ancestral tombs of many noble houses.


* As I lifelong obsessive player of city-building games, I have a unnecessarily complete mental picture of how the neighborhoods of Kogansunan are laid out. I've touched the high points in the past. At some point in the future I might subject you to it in all it's maniacal detail.
 
3rd day of Last Harvest, Mountainshadow Hold...

"Qylan?" Asked the old Elf in a raspy voice to the shadows of his bed chamber.

"No father. It's Qorban. Qylan is not coming." Replied the heavy set Elf as he stood in the shadows watching his dying father slowly waste away in his bed. Beside him stood a mage, nearly as old as his father.

"He does not have long." Whispered the mage.

"Damn Qylan. He should be here, or respond to our letters, at least!"

"Please, Lord Qorban." said the mage, motioning toward the dying elf.

Qorban gritted his teeth. There was a light rasp at the door. The mage peeked his head out, whispered some quiet words and returned to Qorban. " The scouts have returned, my Lord. Stronghelm forces are on the move. They will be here by sun up."

Qorban gritted his teeth. "What of him?"

"I have given your father valerian root. It should ease his passing. I fear, however, he will not last the day."

Qorban swung around on his heel and left the room. The mage trailed after him. "Do you mean to lead the defense yourself?"

Qorban grunted an affirmation as he briskly walked to the armory.

"My Lord," began the mage, "your people need you, and what of your son? This will be his ninth winter and has much to learn."

The elf-lord only scowled and continued his march to the armory. The mage grabbed his shoulder and held him back. Qorban gave the mage a venomous look, but his grip persisted. "I know you. It was I that attended your Lady-mother when she bore you into this world. I tutored you, raised you. I know you like I know myself. I can see the grief on your face. Do not throw your life away!"

Qorban twisted from the old mage's grip. "Attend to my father!" He barked as he vanished into the armory.


As the sun rose over the land of Mountainshadow, the gates of the fortress rose and Qorban led the army out onto the field. Under the cover of their archers on the walls, the army waited. The Nord army, however, would not come within range of the walls. Instead, they sent packs of heavy horse to run along the front ranks of their army, shooting arrows as they rode past. The bowmen on the walls did their best, but the quick moving targets proved hard to hit.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the dead piled up, Qorban was fed up and ordered a march to meet the army beyond the protection of the walls. In the afternoon the armies clashed. The enemy commander charged deep into the ranks of the Elf army, and drove his banner deep in the earth. His honor guards dead, he was quickly surrounded by Qorban and his swornswords.

The commander sang and laughed as he slaughtered wave after wave of Qorban's troops. Finally, the laughing mad man called out Qorban himself to meet him. With thoughts of his dying father, his deserter brother, and the Nord scourge, Qorban hollered, "Fuck it!" And charged into the Nord commander. His approach was sloppy, and in an instant the smiling nord vanished, and the heavy shoulder of Qorban found only air. He stumbled, than felt warm liquid flow past his face.

As darkness took him, Qorban uttered one word before nothingness followed. "Qylan...?"
 
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Journey of the Dead
Part 1

The Arl had returned to his abode, troubled. Having a new wife not fit for the cold winter did not help his worries. The troubles on his mind was foremost the aggressiveness of his neighbors, controlled by pure greed and simple-mindedness, not fitting for a true man of the north. It almost made him sick thinking about it.

Deep in thought at his throne with his wife beside him taken care of her old chamber maiden from Three Rivers. He suddenly called for his Steward who were tending to some of the maters of the city.

- "Ulfr! Come!" The Steward looked up and walked over "Yes Arl?"
- "We got enemies to the south, the west and savages to the east..." Anastasia were starring at Ulfr, she felt something was off "So we shall seek to the north!"
- "What do you mean sire? There is only ocean and ice to the north" The Steward questioned "We shall set sail and seek after new riches. We have to do something other than sit behind our walls"

The Crownless stood up and left to his chambers leaving with the words "Amass a thousand troops and a twenty longboats by tomorrow and prepare my annual pilgrimage."

As he left, Anastasia felt like a burden lifted from her shoulders, the huge warrior scared her. Then from nowhere, and it startled her, a imperial spoke to her.

- "He's a good liege milady" she looked at the Steward and was surprised "But.. your name is Ulfr..."
- "Yes, their culture is a very difficult one, so I changed my name." his posture and behavior changed, he was a whole new man. "Your subjects will respect you more if you try to not see them as savages."
- "Not savages? Are you out of your mind? The only thing they know is to pillage and rape!" She was almost angry at him for trying to make them equal to Imperials. But he remained calm, almost as if he had expected it. "That is the reputation they have gotten..."

He was looking at the door the Arl had left trough, almost as if he was looking at what was behind it.

- "He is the true King of the North." she was stunned by the stewards claim "He would refuse it, he would never wear the crown, that is why he deserves it more than the others"
- "He is not like the others, The Pale Ones are not like the others." He was looking into her eyes, she felt uncomfortable by the belief burning in his eyes and the words he uttered sickened her and she wanted to scream that he was a traitor "I was not born a Nord, but I was born a Pale One. We do not care of what you are, but simply that you are a brethren."

She had herd that word a lot ever since coming to The Pale. Brethren, what do they mean by it? She could not comprehend it, did it mean brother? But she had heard them use it to refer to the women in the city as well.

- "Just at least try." his tone had changed to a more nurturing one "That goes far in The Pale Ones eyes, they are different, they are aware. Start by accompanying your new husband on his sacred pilgrimage."
- "And that is what?" she said, still hadn't changed her view of them but Ulfr was patient with her and responded as kind as before "It's a trip to his final resting place. Every Pale One does that before winter comes. Even I will travel to mine."
- "You... you worship your death?" she got a disgusted look on her face "And you say you are not savages?"

The Steward ended the conversation with that she should just follow with and see for herself.
 
4th day of Last Light, Imperial Palace, The Golden City...


The High Steward of the Golden City stood looking out a great circular window in his solar, high up in the great tower of the Imperial Palace. The expansive cityscape stretched on to the limits of his view. This was his city, and these were his people. He did what he could to increase their quality of life under the rule of the Emperors, but his power was limited. Now with Essos the Fat dead, he was truly in control.

Mathlion loved this city. The smells, the people, everything about it. They were his charge to defend and keep safe in an increasingly hostile world. A charge that he took very seriously.

With a sigh of content, the steward wondered from the window to his desk. Spying a letter on the table, he sat down and inspected the envelope. It was marked with the seal of the Harpy. With a knife, Mathlion broke the seal and tore open the envelope. As he read the letter, his eyes grew increasingly wide with alarm. Fumbling for quill and parchment, the steward began a letter of his own.
 
Slave Revolt in the Golden City

8th day of Last Light, 1000 Age of the Empire....


News has spread like wild fire that the Golden City has been thrust into chaos as the City Watch reported hundreds of murders of nobles, slavers, and men of influence. The horrendous mass murder was perpetrated en masse by the victim's slaves. It is thought that as many as five thousand slaves successfully escaped the city. Who orchestrated the violent escape of the slaves is unknown, but an elaborate network of messages, weapons, and agents suggests that who ever committed the crime was person or persons of great influence.

It is feared that this action may cause a ripple effect to other slaver provinces throughout Agorath.
 
Armas was sitting on the Throne of the Forest reading a tax report when his steward walked into the room. “Master Coamenel, there are reports of a slave rebellion in the Golden City. They say that roughly 5,000 men, women, and children threw off their shackles and escaped the city.”

Armas sighed and put his head in his hands. “This is the last thing we needed right now, but I suppose you knew that. If these men and women wanted their freedom this badly we have to help them. Send a small group of guides to lead them into Galadriel, they will be safe here.”

The steward wasn’t so sure, but he knew Armas wasn’t in any mood or condition to argue, “Yes Master Coamenel, I will dispatch them at once.”

As the steward left Armas turned back to his reports, smiling slightly, secretly happy that people where taking their lives into their own hands.
 
Journey of the Dead
Part 2

The company of Alföðr Frostsverð were travelling all by horse towards the royal burial cave. The Arl himself, his two children, his new wife and three thralls. "You can call them whatever you want, but they are still slaves" Anastasia though to herself. The ground was already frozen. Frost were shimmering on the rock flowers, the ground were covered in all sorts of colors, deep purple, red and blue. As their mounts took a step you could hear the frozen flowers beneath crumble. For being so cold and harsh the land could still amaze this imperial girl with it's beauty. Her thrall was riding next to her and noticed her amazement of the lands

- "Wait till we reach Dödr." she looked up on him with a question in her expression "It's the name of the royal burial mound, the cave is the most beautiful thing in all of Agorheim."
- "There is always only one man who knows the way." he pointed at the thrall leading the Arl "That is how has always been, not even the old kings knew where they would sleep."
- "How does he know?" the thrall shrugged with his shoulders "No one knows. It's one of the myths of the cave."
- "Myths?" She asked, she started to become curious "Yes, there are many, the most common one is that Unnamed God, the greatest of them, stalks the cave."
- "You mean The Creator?" he shook his head and his answer made a lump in her throat form "No, the God of Death"

The others were in silence but weren't bothered by the thrall explaining everything to Anastasia. This was called a train of mourning. They mourn their future deaths and their ancestors deaths. They do not worship death because they want to experience it, they worship him so that he shall take care of them. He also explained as how this has formed their beliefs on various other things. Like they don't believe much in titles and formalities because before The Unnamed One, they are all equal. As such they don't deem a noble to be more worth than a simple thrall.

- "Anarchy" she mumbled. She did not like the fact that she would be viewed as a commoner, yet again the same value as a slave. Such barbaric ways, to disregard the noble birth of someone like that.
- "How does one pray to this... God?" she asked
- "Oh you don't, he does not have a name, thus you can not pray to him" the thrall answered, she was confused "But I have seen others pray in the temples?"
- "We have many gods with names, I believe your people call them heroes? And what you call The Creator we call Faðir" She was surprised to hear that they did worship the same things but in a different way.

Then the thrall's expression grew gray and cold, his eyes widened and he put his finger up to his lips to make sure she understood it was important she was quiet. She looked forward and there in the distance she could see the entrance to the cave. The whole place looked horrible, everything was dead and stones everywhere. The place was not beautiful at all, these barbarians view in that remark was obviously twisted. They lit some torches and continued deeper into the cave. But they would not need them for long. Eventually they entered a grove inside the cave. Light were leaking in from holes in the ceiling, highlighting each and one of them their own beauty with the rays of light. A pouring river made a relaxing sound as they walked in silence.

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Eventually her husband took a seat on a stone by the river, she sat down next to him. He raised his head and let the light shine upon his face and he smiled. For a moment, she lost all her prejudice, for that brief second she understood The Pale Ones. Then she shook her head and it was all gone again.

- "What do you think of Dödr?" a dark voice next to her asked kindly "How do you feel about this being your final resting place?

She didn't really know the etiquette of this ritual so she stayed quiet and didn't answer him. But she was mesmerized by the beauty. She even toyed with the idea of visiting this shrine in the future by herself even after Alföðr was dead. He smiled, as he could see it in her eyes how she actually enjoyed being here. For once she wasn't filled with hate towards him.

- "It's fine, it's only the entering of the shrine you have to be respectful towards the dead, now you are welcome and can talk. Explore it if you want." he pointed towards his children and she saw them playing around in the grass. She stood up and started walking around, she even took off her shoes and felt the soft grass between her toes. She was really enjoying this. As calm and peaceful it was here, she couldn't shake the feeling of that someone was watching them, that people were talking to each others. She couldn't hear or see anyone, but it was gnawing in the back of her mind.

Alföðr was worried that she would not be accepted not being a Pale One. He kept a close eye on her so she would not anger the spirits. She pointed in deeper into the cave.

- "What's down there?" she asked.
- "It's the passage to Eftirheim, at least so we are told." she looked a bit confused at him "You mean no one has ever entered it?"
- "No we don't, only the dead and The Unnamed One may walk that path." his answer only made her more curious.

Alföðr went back to bathing in the light while Anastasia lied down next to the children in the grass. He thought he heard someone whisper in his ears. No one was near him. But yet, he kept hearing something. This was more than that feeling that people were talking and starring at them. It really sounded like whispers. They drew his eyes to the passage to Eftirheim and he saw it again. In the opening stood the figure he saw a couple of weeks ago when he was heading to Three River. The air got cold, his breath could be seen in the air and his hands frozen. He looked on his hands, they were shimmering as if covered in frost. It didn't hurt, it wasn't uncomfortable. He couldn't distinguish any features from the figure but he knew it was smiling, not in a sinister way, but the way a father smiles when he is proud of his son. He was almost in a state of tranquility.

Then it ended in a scream. He snapped out of it, the figure was gone and he started looking for the source of the scream. Where's Anastasia? He could see the three thralls and his children but couldn't find his wife. He rose up running and looked for her and yelled after her. He could hear a faint crying from one of the chasms. He hurried and found her grabbing on to a ledge down in the chasm. He could just about reach her.

- "GRAB!" he yelled. She jumped on to his hand, her weight pressed his arm against the sharp edges of the chasm and it cut deep into his flesh. He took grab of her with her free hand and pulled her up. She was still in panic and hugged Alföðr for his protection. As he stroked her head and hold her tight he said in a low voice reassuring:

- "Shh, I won't let anything hurt you, ever. Your safe now." she was crying into his pelt.


They returned home to Blekborg to be greeted by the Steward.

- "Ah I hope your trip has been a pleasant one!" he was happy, probably from his own pilgrimage. "And your men are back from their exploration in the sea. We found land."
- "We did? Marvelous! Take me to the men! I want to know everything about it!" he yelled out but Anastasia started pulling on his arm. He looked over to her "No first take care of your wound before it gets infected."

She dragged him away, he was a bit reluctant but he knew she was right. The Steward smiled, she might still not like The Pale, but at least she is tolerating it now...

eldergleam_sanctuary_by_rosendaemonin-d5w4nzr.jpg
 
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Emir Asad returns to Almeria after a trip to the Golden City in order to see his new manor.

His steward, Anwar, has come to his study.


"Your majesty! I wasn't informed of your return! Thank the Creator that you're still alive after that slave revolt."

"I had better thank him, because I had an assassin infiltrate my manor and attempt to assassinate me. He must have been sent by the man who also orchestrated the slave revolt."

"Well, since the revolt happened, there were no messages sent to you, so I have the --"

Anwar notices that Asad has a mask.

"Sir, if I may ask a question, where did you get that mask?"


"This mask? I found it on a market stall. The creator of these masks must have been a master, because they were of the highest quality you could find. I bought a couple more of these masks." Asad shows Anwar the masks that he has bought. "Aren't these simply beautiful?"

"I do have to agree with you, but wasn't the leader of the slave revolt wearing a similar mask?"

"Was he? Did you know which one was he wearing?"

Anwar points to the red mask.

"The red one? Look at it. The design is very plain and simple. Anyone can easily recreate such a simple mask. The master though, does the simple details splendidly, plus I have proof of who did it." Asad shows the mark of the creator on the back of the mask.

"The man who made it was the best mask maker in the entire city. He had a few extras of the exact same mask, so who knows, the leader might have bought it from him."


Anwar, satisfied with Asad's answer, leaves the room. After he leaves, Anwar places the masks on the wall to his liking.
 
Assembly of Sun's Shadow, 1001 Age of Empire

With the civil unrest in the Golden City, the Assembly of Lords was delayed into the beginning of the new year. With a war broken out in the north of Galadriel and the failure of the Champions of Light to defeat the battlemage beneath Berandriel, there was sure to be much to discuss in the hall.

Mathlion welcomed the lords.

"My Lords, a new year has begun. May it be peaceful. I present to you, High Mage Arctus of Ironmouth..."

An old Dwarve stands before the Assembly, leaning upon a staff.

"Lord's of Light, with the absence of the ArchMage, I shall be offering my knowledge of histories and the arcane to guide this Assembly in the way of Light."

"Thank you, High Mage.

"There is much to discuss. Before we do, however, there are some Lords who have distinguished themselves among this hall.

"Step forward Master Wrothiron of Deagrin, kneel before this Assembly and vow to further the Light. Arise as UnderKing Wrothiron of Deagrin.

"Master Armas Coamenel, for furthering the Light, kneel before this Assembly, vow to serve the good of Agorath and arise a Theron of Galadriel.

"Emir Asad, kneel before us all. Swear to serve the Light and arise a blessed Shah of Hroniden.

"Count Justinus Celestian, for your service to the people of Agorath, vow to further the Light and be crowned a Duke of Ecclestius.

" Alföðr "The Crownless" of House Frostsverð, proven to be a man of honour. Step forward, vow you will always serve Agorath and the Light and be crownless no longer!

Yarpen syn Światowida, if you so wish it, kneel before this Assembly and be crowned Underking of Galadriel."


Mathlion looked toward Lord Asharian.

"Lord Asharian of Krestarii. If you would serve the Light, vow to bring unity to the land, and not division, further the Light and be peaceful, kneel before us all and swear it! Arise as Duke of Ecclestius."

Wrothiron of Deagrin is now an UnderKing!

Armas Coamenel is now a Theron!

Asad Rostani is now a Shah!

Justinus Celestian is now a Duke!

Alfodr Frostsverd is now a Jarl!

Yarpen Swiatowida is now a UnderKing!

Asharian Krestarii is now a Duke!​



The gnarled old Dwarve stepped forward once again.

"With the scrolls uncovered by the Champions of Light in Hroniden, we have uncovered the location of an ancient temple in the Ashen Wastes. This is a errand filled with peril but it must be cleansed of Dark! We have uncovered evidence that the ancient is tainted and blocking Light Magic from reaching our realm! The temple must be cleansed!"



A Quest to Cleanse a Tainted Temple in the Ashlands has been proposed!
 
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Slave Revolts Across Agorath

ldfIXb__qJ3qDxTjinx7_A_m.jpg

After the unrest in the Golden City, the flame of rebellion has spread across the land. Even the serfs and thralls have taken up the call. Reports begin to flood into the Assembly of revolts sprouting up across the land.


Peasant Revolt in Saxon Province!

Slave Revolt in Azeratii City!

Slave Revolt in Stronghelm Province!

Slave Revolt in Kalare City!

Slave Revolt in Goi'Orka!

Slave Revolt in Misr!

Slave Revolt in Herasnia!

Thrall Revolt in The Pale!

Players will receive a misfortune roll, collect no taxes, and be unable to reform ranks until their provinces are made safe!​
 
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((I will hit you with a flipflop Bishop!))
Azeratii Troops will suppress the slave revolt
 
A Meeting

Armas was sitting in the meeting chambers, resting, when his steward came in and told him that Master Deagrin Wrothiron and Therain Eylinn Mindrilla had arrived.

Armas sat up in his seat, “Good, good send them in.” With that the steward went off and opened the chamber doors and ushered the Lord and Lady inside.

Eylinn walked in, looking more ladylike than ever, clearly trying to make an effort to act like her position implied. Wrothiron looked much more somber, always a stoic man, clearly the death of his son was affecting him.

Armas rose from his seat to welcome his guests, “Lord Wrothiron, Lady Mindrilla, I hope that you are both well all things considered. Come sit down, we have much to discuss.”

Everyone sat down around the table, ready to begin meeting. “So I asked you here today for two reasons, first to discuss the failure of Lord Zephfer’s quest and how we will deal with it, and second, the formation of an alliance to protect all of Galadriel including what has been stolen by the nords. With Stronghelm’s new aggression, I believe we need to stand together as a bulwark against further aggression.” Armas stopped talking and waited for one of the other lords to speak.

Wrothiron looked up and said in a cold monotone, “I just want to know what happened to my son Coamenel.” Though she didn’t say anything it was clear Eylinn was curious about the events of the quest as well.

“A fair request, Lord Wrothiron, I shall tell you about our quest in its entirety, as it affects us all. Our party consisted of Zephfer, Gilthammer, Helena, and me. We descended into the cavern to find the Dark Elf, but our progress was hampered by a horde of goblins. We were under attack for days, sleeping in shifts so that we wouldn’t be killed while resting, we must have killed hundreds of them. Anyway, by the time we reached the palace of the Dark city we were tired, but the goblins had stopped bothering us.

There was a female battle mage there who sought to stop us from defeating Melekith. She attacked us, but there was something different about her, even between the four of us we couldn’t manage to land a blow. To answer your question Lord, Gilthammer fought bravely, but ultimately she threw his body against a pillar with dark magic. He… his… I heard his bones shattering as he fell to the floor. I am sorry we couldn’t do more for him.

After that, she ripped out Helena’s throat and stabbed me through the stomach; the real issue is that she took Lord Zephfer. I believe that he is the key to whatever the Dark Elves are planning, and we need to organize a rescue. I found a seeing stone in the cavern and believe that I can use to find him. Now you cannot tell anyone about this, but the ArchMage has contacted my through it and explained how it worked.”

Wrothiron had been silent until this point, “I am pleased to hear he fought bravely, though disappointed that it wasn’t enough. I hope to be able to honor him and his name.”

Eylinn spoke up for the first time in the meeting, “Milords... Business requires my attention elsewhere. I need to head south to talk with the heir, Zhepfan Huaindren. It's not only the Dark Elves knocking on our doors. The Darkness is encroaching from each direction..”

“A very good point Eylinn, and that brings me to our second matter of discussion, our nations need to work together to protect Galadriel against nord aggression.”

Wrothiron spoke next, “I believe that I could commit a small army to help the people of Galadriel, if we don’t stop the nords, their raids may spill into Highathar.”

“I cannot commit any troops at this time, my army needs to regroup, but know that they will stand with Galadriel when the time comes.”

Armas stood, “Good, I feel we have accomplished a lot her today. You are both invited to stay at the castle until you are ready to leave, though it seems you have much to do Eylinn.”

Wrothiron thanked Armas for his hospitality and left the chambers, he seemed like he hadn’t slept in days.

Eylinn turned to Armas, "I..." She made another attempt. "I wish to thank you for your kind words. The letter..." She lowered her arms and kept them knit at her waist. "It's not that I judge you, or think you judge me. But for a little while longer, I wish to follow my heart, and see where that leads me." She smiled. "I believe you'd make better use of this crown than I ever could."

Armas smiled faintly, “You are wrong about that, Eylinn, that crown was made for you. There is nothing wrong with following your heart, the great men and women got where they are by doing just that and you will be no different. And I don’t want you to think that you can’t follow your heart when you lead your people, rather, you must do exactly that. You have shown everyone that you are honorable and capable, they can’t ask for more. I hope you can find peace from the Light inside, I fear it will be in short supply soon.

Eylinn looked down slightly, “Erh, thank you Master Coamenel, I appreciate that. I fear I won’t be able to stay here though, as I said I must head south.”

“I understand milady, and I hope you find success in your quest. Also, feel free to call me Armas; I would like to think we aren’t still so formal.”

“Um, okay … Armas.” Eylinn said, unsure of herself.

“Visit the quartermaster and he will make sure you are well supplied for your trip.”

With that Eylinn left the room, Armas still wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to by the Dark Elves not being their biggest concern, but whatever she planned to do he hoped she would be okay.

((I am going on vacation tomorrow, so I won't be on the IRC that much this upcoming week. If you need to get a hold of me I will still be in the thread and keeping track of PMs.))
 
Come Winter, Come Fall

The road south felt longer than it had previously. Exhausted from her meeting in Coal, and the weight of her new tiara and what it would involve now creeping up on her, all she ever wished for was the world to stop spinning for a moment and let her catch up. “Just take off your crown. Maybe it’ll be easier?” The hell it would. Shadows cast by the torch in the forest sent a shrill sense of uncertainty with the troops as they marched. They saw movement and imaginary monsters everywhere. Beside them, behind them, in front of them. “Another month, another war. Another ghostly trail to wander unguarded in the moonlight.”

Eylinn started to fill her head with dirty words. All the profanities, curses and damnations in every language she knew. She played them softly with her tongue without moving her lips, and without speaking them out loud. “That’s one way to deal with fear. Any is as good as any, I suppose.” Her mind just wouldn’t leave her be, would it?

She looked up into the sky, pondering over the diamond carpet layered over the night. “The moon, the opal. Weren’t you supposed to be the romantic one?” She used to think so. Until that changed. “It’s getting cold...” The warmth was slowly leaving the season, and the canvas of leaf back in Green Chasm had started to turn yellow. She couldn’t quite determine if the road through the forest was doing the same, but it was abundantly clear the trees were starting to sip the last of green into their mighty trunks to save for spring. She started fantasize about being a tree. “You drink, you sleep, no other worries. How amazing that would be.” Until the awkward moment when someone would come to cut it down. “Never mind...”

“Sister?” A girl with hair as white as Eylinn, with the same eyes but a much younger face, peeked out from the carriage curtains. Evhana looked at her with unmistakable boredom. Behind her was Alvon, snoring to the high heavens. “You want to switch?” Eylinn raised an eyebrow to her only heir.
“You mean you, riding? Alone at night? I’d prefer you saved your dreams for your sleep.” Evhana would not stop staring. “Speaking of sleep, what’s keeping you from it?” The girl knocked her thumb back at Alvon in the carriage.
“There’s an earthquake in the happening. And it’s a big one.” Eylinn sniggered. It was certainly a terrible noise in there. “Am I being punished?”
“I just thought you’d appreciate spending more time with your big sister.” She needed her. Something to remind her of home while away, which these days, were almost permanently.

“Do I need to sleep in a carriage with that sawing mill for that?” She made no effort in hiding her dissatisfaction. Eylinn remained patient, however.
“These days, you do.” She looked over the horse towards the range pulling the carriage, falling into her thoughts again. Evhana was persistent.
“You’re sitting funny.” Eylinn had switched to a sidesaddle during travels. “I’ve never seen you ride like that.”
“It’s...” She was not prepared to be confronted about this. “...it’s how a lady rides a horse. It’s custom.”
“Why?”
“Because it is.” Also, it was much more comfortable, until she fell asleep. That time, it was not so comfortable. “If we’re going to challenge every custom when in the south, people may think we’re off, maybe barbaric. Us Elves need to work extra hard to...” She tried to find the proper word. “...compromise.” That wasn’t the word she was looking for, but it would have to do.
“What’s a compromise?” Eylinn studied her sister for a moment.
“It’s when you give some, to get some. For example, if I wanted you to go back to sleep, and you wouldn’t want to, I’d have to offer something to make you do it anyway. Something that might make up for the fact you don’t really want to go sleep. Like, some dried venison.” Evhana’s eyes became twice as large.

“Can I have some anyway?!” Eylinn gave her sister a disgruntled look.
“That’s not how compromising works.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want some.”
“Not going to happen.” Evhana pouted.
“What happened to compromising?”
“I’m not compromising. I’m your older sister. I am telling you.” Eylinn smirked.
“What about him?” Evhana gave a small nod to the mentor, hard asleep. Eylinn reached for a chestnut in the tree branches above her, and threw it with a hard twitch of her hand and hit Alvon straight on the forehead. His eyes flew up and he drew his sword.

“Who the f...”
“Alvon!” Eylinn interrupted him to spare his sister’s ears of what would certainly become a rather rude exclamation.
“Mis... Therain?”
“Are you trying to wake up the mountain? I had no idea such snoring existed on this side of the Light.” Alvon was not pleased. Evhana held back a laugh. “Just make sure my sister get some sleep, would you?”
“Yes, my Therain.” Eylinn winked at Evhana, still covering her mouth to hide the laughter. Looking forward, it was still pitch black bar a short trail of torches held by the front guard. She paced ahead of the carriage to get a better glimpse of the road, but it was hopeless. Her only light in life was currently travelling in that carriage. She turned around and proceeded to ride next to it once more.
“Actually, Alvon, would you do me a favour?”

They halted for nothing in the train, but after fighting the infected mad, and challenging necromancer hordes, and even speaking to a room filled with old and young grumpy men, this was nothing but a trivial manoeuvre. Eylinn climbed on the carriage and tied her mount to its rear using only one foot and one arm. She jumped in, and Alvon jumped out, untying his horse. She weaselled herself in behind her sister and pulled the blanket over them.
“Good night, Evhana.”
“Sweet dreams, sister.” It was two days from Balen Don, when gritty politics would have to start anew. Until then, she intended to spoil herself. She inhaled through her nose, feeling the sweet scent from her sister’s hair, a mix of acorn, river wash and honey. It smelled like home. Eylinn kept an eye open, just for a little while longer. Then fell asleep harder than she had in months.