TW: High Fantasy (Prelude)

[Thelonius]

The opening post... will be here after 8 hours of sleep.

[TsukikoJ]

"King Brand was not a bad king, no. He had good intentions. He just bit off more than he could chew in an attempt to unite the kingdom, and his unfulfilled promises came back to haunt him."

"Well do you think any of the contenders actually have the power to appease enough of the kingdom and take the throne?"

High Priest Maedro hesitated for a moment before answering. "Maybe. General Caprice of the Watchers would have been my pick. He was more than just a soldier - he was a wise and honorable man. Quite popular with the people too. Unfortunately he was slain during a skirmish near the southern border just two weeks past. May Uro guide him on his voyage home."

"There are rumors among the small folk that he was assassinated," the priest said, though it was more of an implied question than a statement.

"Yes, probably. Unfortunately this war has clouded the truth and allowed for less-than-honorable folks to take action. The only truth that can be trusted at this point is that which comes from Uro." This entire time Maedro had been scribbling feverishly on a piece of parchment. "I think that's it. Have the brothers gather what I've written here. Once that's done we can begin the wards."

After receiving the list from Maedro, the other priest left the room. The High Priest stood alone in the cathedral's expansive library. He picked up the book he had been referring to and began to walk it back to its place on the shelves. Passing the large, east-facing window he paused. Looking out onto the Endless Ocean, he took this opportunity to pray. He prayed for the hundreds of innocent lives taking shelter in the catacombs. He prayed for the guidance to make the right decisions for the good of Uro's people. And he prayed for the thing he had been praying for every day for the past three years - an end to this war.

[oblivion6]

what do you think of the other two? i dont trust them. the merchant baron vaska says to prince kholad in one of the princes various manors within the kingdoms capital city.

be at ease my friend. i shall take care of them in due time. the prince says in response to vaskas words. then as an afterthought he adds as soon as im able to secure more of their funds for our use. the baron flashes a quick grin but it is replaced by the grim look he normally wears as he looks out over the city

who do you think would serve our interests better on the throne? the baron vaska asks the prince kholad. both house aenaris and the golden circle are making promises of increased trade. however i am leaning towards the nobles of house aenaris. the prince replies

yes. i have never been fond of the realms haughty mages either

done then. send a messanger to house aenaris telling the count he has our support. there is much work to be done

[daelrog]

The Night Guild


"I say we take the throne by force! To hell with this voting!"

"Are you mad Durvan? Our enemies are just waiting for us to do that. This has been the nobles' plan all along!"

The man Durvan pulled out a knife. "I always knew you were a trait-" He did not finish the word, for Garth Rowan, leader of the Night Guild raised his hand, suggesting he wished to speak.

"We wait."

"But the throne is for the taking!"

"If we wait, we'll be no better off than we started. Come on Garth, send the Wolf after anyone who gets in our way!"

"Oh?" Garth reached across the table he sat at picking up two letters. "I shall ask the Wolf to split himself into a thousand equally capable assassins then. We have been given two offers by would-be Overlords. One has the audacity to offer a pardon. I think they forget that we see no wrongdoing, only justice, while our enemies would be loathe if their own laws pardoned us. Most likely this gesture will fail, especially since I see no reason to take it."

"And the other?"

"Nothing set in stone. Seeing how willingly we'll jump on their bandwagon. I think we'll wait to let them make the first offer. After that, we will wait to see if the offer goes up." He stood up with the help of his cane. "Gentlemen, we are in no position to take the throne. We only have the support of the mob, and even then only slightly. Whoever wins the throne will contend with every faction they bested. We know not what our rivals plans are, and I will not see our work undone by impatience. We wait, and we see what happens. We spent this Civil War cleaning the streets of the cruel and wicked we could get our hands on, and there is still much work to be done. We focus on this and this alone."

"When though? When will we raise to glory?"

Garth shrugged. "Maybe in a year, maybe in the next generation. I am no fortune teller, just a man looking at the present, and the present says wait."

[Madwand]

OOC: total fluff post.

Battle of Red Anslen

You need to know why they got stuck in Anslen. The Army Commander of Sun Spears ordered a counteroffensive along the Free Land hills, he planned to come from the north and push the forces of Warlords back to the wastlands . On the map it looked like the classic horseshoe: or the opponent draw back, or will have to fight on two fronts, a disaster equally tragic, or risk a strike to the apparently exposed middle, certainly the trap, which shuts as soon as the fatal mistake is made. But in order to carry out this counteroffensive,Commander need numerous army, and it should be made of veterans and to collected them he started depleting my garrisons. In April I had three thousand men, in May it was less than a thousand. High Command reasoned correctly: even against such a weakened defenders the Warlords would be crazy to move against the central strongholds of Dominion. The assumption was that they withdraw.

As you know, they did not retreated. (...)

From the relation of Red Anslen battle, script available for the Trieste' military academy cadets.

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

"Bloody idiots." said the Ghostlord. "Why did they not hold for the one more day? " the undead legion marched uninterrupted for a week, day and night, day after day. The horses stopped and General jumped to the ground. Through clouds of smoke bursting from the burning city he saw the fall of key Dominion stronghold.

Barbarians slowly began to scatter to plunder and murder civilians. The general waved his cane, holding his live lieutenant from shouting the order of charge.
"Wait. Give them half of hours." said Ghostlord "we will need the advantage that enamy' disorganization gives us. Civilians are not our priority." The General watched the image in the scry pool, trying, despite the inconvenient foreshortening, to follow the course of the battle. The perspective was of an eagle (a buzzard, rather) circling above Anslan.

His hand lay still on the device. He said nothing. There was nothing left for him to say. Having studied strategy so very long, he recognized at once the moments of triumph or defeat when they came, he weighed his chances with the utmost precision, and he never confused the highly unlikely with the flat-out impossible. He sat and watched as the Anslan was butchered.

And when the moment was right, he give orders for attack on dispersed horde. It was the day offensive of Warlords meet the end.

[Murska]

Battle of Granton
Command Post, Left Wing

Lord Percival Tercel was surveying a map with red lines drawn over it. Along with him in the room were a few guards and messengers to send out if necessary. It wasn't much of a battle, but this was good preparation.

"Why is this rabble trying to pass through my lands? They could just have gone around, and not wasted their lives. But no, they have to try and burn things on this side of the border."

"Sir!" A new messenger entered the tent. "Oliver Granwood has broken the enemy flank. The remaining looters are making a stand at the center, but they should not be aware of our cavalry yet."

"'Should not' never works in warfare. Have Granwood pass around and bring his men on the center immediately. He's probably done it already, of course. Tell them we'll pardon every man who surrenders."

"Will we, sir?"

"Of course not."


---


Castle Valesholm
Circle Hall, meeting

Five men sit around a round table in identical chairs. Four of them weary and with colourful livery, one of them well-rested and in a more casual outfit.

Exasperated, one of the four raises an arm.

"Won't you reconsider, Tercel? There is a lot we could accomplish together. You have enough support to carry us through, and we can end this dreadful war."

"I've said my piece. This support I have, it is not enough - not only nobility but also the mob, the merchants, mages, everyone is taking part in this conflict and not all of them respect the old hierarchy. If any. In fact, I urge you to be patient. Your own chances increase greatly the longer the war drags on, and the more people get fed up of it."

"The longer the war goes on, the more likely some 'folk hero' or, Gods forbid, mage seizes the throne! We must act now, like men!"

Narrowing an eye at this insult, Richard Tercel frowns.

"Well, feel free to stay as my guests for as long as your busy schedules allow. But I am not going to change my mind on this. You would do better to listen to my warning."

Mentally cursing the mistake of the youngest of them, the other Lords stand up, knowing that this battle has been lost. One by one they shuffle out of the hall.

Three months later, only one of them would still be alive.

[ArcaneStomper]

The Old Road, Southern Trieste

The old road wound for miles across hills, through forests, over rivers. It was a major route for trade through Trieste. Or it was normally. With the civil war on trade had fallen off and today only a single man walked over its cracked and faded cobblestones.

Dressed in sturdy traveling clothes and carrying a thick walking staff he could have been anyone. A pilgrim, an adventurer, a merchant down on his luck. But what was most interesting to the bandits watching from behind a few large boulders was the large pack on the man's back apparently stuffed full of any number of things. Signaling to his men the bandit leader jumped into the middle of the road and pointed his sword. "All right traveler. Give us your goods and maybe we'll let you go."

Stopping the man simply looked at the bandit and said. "AboUt tIme You ShoWed Up." The voice issuing from the normal looking man was anything but. It was warped and twisted a discordant cry which seemed to echo with a million voices at once. Run, run away save yourselves.

Taking a step back the bandit stared slack jawed as the pack vanished and the man shimmered. When the shimmering stopped the man had transformed. His clothes had become robes, his staff a gnarled thing glowing with eerie ruins, and on his back in place of the pack a mass of writhing tentacles that spread out like demonic wings.

"IT is TimE foR yoU to JOIN US LOST SOUL." Some of the smarter bandits had already started running, but it didn't make a difference. Raising an open hand the mage slowly closed it and as he did the bandits exploded in a serious of loud pops. From their corpses rose streams of dark red energy which twisted and coiled towards the mage and was absorbed.

With sigh the mage waved his hand and vanished. In his place the traveler stood once more. If any observers had been in the area the would have heard the chorus resolve into distinct voices as the traveler walked away from the scene of carnage.

"Are you happy now. We could have used them."

"WE HUNGERED. WE USE THEM. WE ARE THEM."

"You know you get more cryptic every day. Icy back me up."

"Power levels increased .0001% by previous actions. Projected Power Usage to bind unwilling constructs .001%. Previous course of action deemed most suitable."

"You two have no heart you know that. Come on you're not that hungry Blood, and we can spare a little power Icy. Let's do the next group my way."

"Experiment considered. Accepted."

"WE HUNGER a little less. WE ACCEPT."

"Good good now back to our previous discussion before we were interrupted. I still say House Aeneris are the best bet for this country."

"WE DISAGREE. WE HAVE IDEALOGICAL RIFT WITH NOBLE. SILVER SHIELDS ARE US."

"Endless Ocean goals align with project Color to within 80%. Support given."

"You're just saying that to annoy me. You both know access to additional mana nodes would be greatly enhanced by supporting House Aeneris."

I hope the Golden Circle Kills Us.

"NO THE PROLETARIAT IS . . ."

And so it went the disjointed argument raging as the traveler made his way down the lonely road.

[nolispe]

A woman clad in leather armor, perhaps tinted slightly blue, strode across the Cathedral floor. It was the early hours of the dawn, but the monks were up, and and any of them gawked at this strange sight. Messengers had come from the embassy that had arrived, but still, the sight of an armored stranger caused talk. She was unarmed, but still...

It was not a normal delegation. Normally, an Aenaris diplomat would have been sent by ship, given Aenaron itself was only maybe a week away by sea. This time, it seemed, there had been no available people on the island to be sent, and thus one of the otherwise engaged people from the wars inland had been sent. Certainly, this delegation had arrived strangely, with perhaps a dozen fast riders instead of the usual train of courtiers.

Rapidly, the young woman approached one of the priests standing at the door of the inner sanctum.
"Greetings. I have been sent to speak to the high priest - I believe he should be expecting me."

[Madwand]

The Red Anslen

The Ghostlord looked at his new castle. The regiments of undead infantry behind him stoped like shadow when he stood silently for several minutes then without turning he spoke in a cold voice to adjutants. "Send scout-ghosts and First and Second Brigade head into the surrounding areas to secure it. I don't want a barbarian, brigand, or unauthorized soldier within 10 miles of here. Kill everyone and bring the bodies back. I will rise all of them starting at twillight.

Prepare the full raport for High Command, I will sign it in two hours. "

With that the Aleister Quen stepped forward and walked in his old castle. He make a gesture for one of his lieutenants to follow him.

"It need to be stoped. The civil war cause the Warlords attacks. The Sandarian Republic don't even hide their ambition to push us from Dominion."

"Current political situation.. it seems we have a four pretenders. Aenaris, Silver Shields, Golden Circle, Catherdral..

" How intresting. Our Church wants secular power. "

"No, the people want..

" If High Priest Maedro would not wish to be popular candidate he would proclaim it. It seems he has ambitions beyond draining mana from sea and calling it divine intervention."

Ghostlord unfolded letter from Aenaris.

and the House Tercel seems undecided..

Grand Duke is all, but undecided. We just don't know what he decided.Old snake is waiting for something, but have we more time to wait? Send the response.

Red Anslen support house Aenaris

[Imperial Psycho]

The Battle of Redmoor Keep

Reman paced back and forth. He had given the orders, all he could do now was wait. Dressed in black to camouflage himself in the darkness, he watched as the signal was given for his men to begin their climb. This attack had been in the planning for months. It was well-timed, only a handful of sentries watched the walls, and they were swiftly dealt with.

A great cheer went up as the gates were opened. Reman, crouched with his main force concealed some distance away, suddenly rose. "FORWARD!" he cried, rushing ahead of his men. They had to move fast. The men who had climbed the walls begun with the advantage of surprise, but the garrison had woken, and the fight was turning against them.

They covered the distance to the castle in minutes, but it felt like hours. Finally the main force punched into the flanks of enemy soldiers, ripping into the red enemy ranks. Tired, broken, confused, the enemies morale broke and they began to try to surrender, or flee. Those who still had sense retreated to the fort, small groups slipping back to defend their lord.

Those who tried to surrender were executed. The Silver Shields force was perilously small, even compared to the cornered remnants of the garrison. They simply couldn't afford to keep prisoners. Determined to keep the momentum, Reman rallied his men, taking a shield from one of the dead.

The Fight in the keep lasted seconds. Around half tried to surrender, while the rest were cut down with crossbows as they rallied around the Lord Yaxley. Yaxley was untouched by the violence, standing in bloodstained bedclothes with a look of terror on his fight. He opened and closed his mouth as if he was about to speak. "I-...Yo-" All that came out after that was a gurgle, as Reman's blade pierced his throat. "Do not worry. Your families will not be harmed, nor your servants." He turned to wipe his blade on a piece of cloth, and was met by cheers.

Redmoor Keep
4 days later


Reman sat in a simple stool on the Lords hall, looking over maps on the banquet table. He looked up from his work. "Yes, Serjeant?"
A tall, broad man wearing the distinctive polished armour of the Silver Shields entered the room. "Sir? I was just wondering..Where are we going from here?"

"That is what I am considering. North, I expect. This keep will do as a base of operations, but we must secure the surrounding areas if we are to keep the peace here. "

"No Sir...I mean... are we trying to make you king? I mean I know we're fighting to protect the people and all, but.. what next. You could be ruler if you wanted to you know. I know you ain't got any of those noble bloodlines in you, but the people would support you, I know they would. They're already saying you come to overthrow the old regimes, and bring in a new one."

Reman looked back down at the maps."Oh. Yes. I see what you mean. But...set myself up as a pretender to the Throne? I don't know. People already consider our group dangerous and destablising. But..I don't know." Reman suddenly rose from his seat, sending maps flying.

"...Sir?"

"...Thank you Serjeant, you may leave."

[Greystone]

Fort Avestus, CORE Compound

Fort Avestus, located roughly in the middle of the Kingdom, is the massive headquarters of the CORE mercenary group. A palisade wall surrounded the compound with dark uniformed soldiers patrolling at all hours of the day and night. Inside the walls is no less than three taverns, an Inn, an armory, CORE soldier housing, a recreation center, a massive underground cemetery, and the center of it all- Old Wraith Keep.

Wraith Keep, flying the armored fist of the CORE and the Red Eagle of the Marshal's personal cadre, has been in the CORE's control for a solid century. With a strong single walls made from white limestone and red sandstone, with rounded towers and keeps. The courtyard and halls of the castle constantly bustle with energy as men and women do their duties- whether soldiers, guards, messengers, or maids. Marshal Jaleed Hal'Jalani sat back as his bodyguards admitted his three most trustworthy advisers into his officer.

Lord Captain Petyr Volstok, tall and strong, clad in dark armor from head to foot. He was the commander of the Howling Dragons, the best trained and efficient combat unit in the CORE (possibly the entire kingdom)- rivaled only by the Legions and Jahleeds personal soldiers. Lord Captain Suzana Vhan, sporting a light tan and wearing her armor- custom fitted for silent movement. Her commando's, the Revanents, were excellent hunters and trackers (of men and monster).

Last was Lord Captain Vestrana Willowwind, the eccentric half-elf. Dressed in dark red robes, and wearing a gem encrusted gold tiara. She sat down before his desk in one of the large chairs, where she began muttering to herself- making odd swishing movements with her hands.

The Marshal sat back "Lets review the situation...."

The CORE is entertaining any who wish ask for their support.

[razovor]

Grenthorne

Catlyn rounded the corner, into another desolate street. Scorched and ruined houses lined both sides of the street. The street was sparse, but busy, people rummaging through houses, recovering what remained of their possession, carrying the wounded down the street to be tended to. Catyln found Tiberius in the middle of the street, with two of his Mages, kneeling beside a wounded man. He chanted a few words, a white glow emanating from his hands. The glow healed the man, his wounds repairing themselves and closing up.

Tiberius stood up, and turned to some civilians that stood nearby.

"He should be fine now. See he gets plenty of rest"

The civilians picked up their healed friend, carrying over to some hastily constructed housing. Tiberius turned and spotted Catlyn sanding among the crowd

"Catyln, It's good to see you again."

"And yourself, friend. What happened here?"

"Raiders. Destroyed the town, raped the women, killed most of the men. A nobleman drove the raiders off, took most of the peoples gold as payment."

Tiberius paused, still devastated by the scale of the damage.

"I thought you were busy in the capitol?"

"I bring news, the...

Tiberius interrupted her.

"General Caprice? Yes I heard the news. A good man. Whens the funeral?"

There was another pause before Catlyn replied.

"Last week."

"A small ceremony?"

"Massive. Half the kingdom was invited. You must have received an invitation"

Tiberius didn't respond.

"You weren't invited?"

"No. I understand why. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"I wasn't intending to mention that at all. The war is over. 'King' Farchild is dead. The remnant of his forces have disbanded."

"How many causalities in the battle?"

"Several thousand"

"At least the war is over. Who's taking the throne? House Aenaris?

"Actually. They're holding a vote. Lord Pendrick has nominated you."

"Me?"

Tiberius was quite honestly confused.

"You've got a lot of support. Everyone's seen what you've been doing for the people."

"I'm sorry to disappoint Lord Pendrick, but..."

"You're conceding?!"

"I don't know how to rule a nation! Let someone with experience do it. House Aenaris seems good enough. Better than Farchild at least."

"You don't have enough faith in yourself. You'd be a good king. A great king. House Aenaris is experienced, but they'll never have what makes you special.

"Oh?"

"You love the people, Tiberius. You show more kindness and charity than any man I've ever seen. The people can see that. They want you on the throne. If you need help, they'll be there for you. Please, don't give up this chance"

TIberius smiled.

"Thank you. You're right, I won't concede"

"The candidates will be gathering in the capitol, to speak to the people. Shall I gather your things for the journey"

"And leave Grenthorne? Sorry, but I can't do that. The people here need me. The Lord's will just have to come see me themselves."

"But...

"The people need you too Catyln"

Catyln paused for a moment, then smiled. She wandered over to one of the nearby houses, took a shovel, and got to work.

The Golden Circle votes for the Golden Circle.