A commisory tale of short people, the fairy and the dwarf IC

[drack]

here
http://i1176.photobucket.com/albums/x322/sensenman/dwarven%20assault_zpslbhbvqs6.png

That's where I'm entering your nation. :smallbiggrin:

It was like a bag of glitter had spilled over the mountain, shimmering lights of every color flowed up the mountain with the ease with witch water flows down, as they drew nearer, near enough to sneeze on, it became apparent that these glinting lights were little glowing men and women, talking excitedly about flowers and weeds and an old rotten bag they'd found on their way up the mountain.

Well, I'll give ya a chance to describe your nation while it's still standing. :smallsmile:

[MandibleBones]

Hmm. On what day are these fae folk arriving? Because on Day 3, a flight of Giant Owls with steel-eyed dwarven mounts arrives here:

http://i.imgur.com/PeyiMKy.png

So anyway! The land you're in is actually unsettled, though roads lead around and through the area and seem well-kept-up. In the foothills, which is where you are, the air is brisk and mildly cool even in this summer. It's actually quite refreshing!

What few dwarves live this far out (not even enough to call a thorpe) welcome the fae into their homes as guests, presenting them with small gifts and sharing what rustic food they have — meat, if the faeries eat it, as well as beer bread and wildflower honey, all washed down with homebrewed ale or mead. They are hearty folk, but genuinely seem interested in treating guests with hospitality.

"Ah, but if you'll be interested in trading with the Reachlord and all, best be headed up the road to Hillsmeet*. That's where most of the trading happens 'round these parts. Oh, but do take a cask of my brother's best mead for the road!"

*56,49, to be precise

[drack]

Day 1...2... day 2 bright and early. :smallsmile: (oh man, I went and remembered it when I had a heat-sheet right beside me... :smalltongue:)
The fairy folk do accept the honey and mead, but at the center of their swarming and excited swarm runs a man, or not quite a man. He might have passed as human, but for that his feet did not quite touch the ground, and the barbed maw beneath his animal-skull mask did work well to deter the hospitality of strangers. Grinning a savage and bloodthirsty grin he asks the local dwarven-folk "Whereto might I find one that speaks for the dwarves?"

[MandibleBones]

Though the dwarves are indeed shaken by the envoy's savage appearance, they all the more stubbornly offer hospitality. It appears to be deeply ingrained, culturally. They suggest Hillsmeet as a place to start in finding one who speaks for the dwarves; this far out, they're just simple folk who speak only for themselves.

(OOC: Read: This hex's only improvement is "Road" and there are no units currently in it :smalltongue:)

[drack]

With a look of disdain the man directs the legions to follow the road, hopping the natives wouldn't be foolish enough to build one to nowhere.

Yeah, but it's in your territory so you must not enforce your laws very well for them not to bow to your rule. :smalltongue:

[MandibleBones]

With a look of disdain the man directs the legions to follow the road, hopping the natives wouldn't be foolish enough to build one to nowhere.

Yeah, but it's in your territory so you must not enforce your laws very well for them not to bow to your rule. :smalltongue:


They do follow the laws — why do you think they gave you hospitality?

The road does not, in fact, lead nowhere. When it forks, there is a sign in both Dwarven and Common that reads:

Hillsmeet 20 miles
Starsreach 32 miles
Southwatch 35 miles

(The other direction reads "Border Loop")

[drack]

Guess I'll go for hillsmeet... but if nobody rules them then there wouldn't be anyone they'd acknowledge to make the laws. Best ya can hope for is traditional laws made by a great ancestor o something. :smalltongue:

[MandibleBones]

Guess I'll go for hillsmeet... but if nobody rules them then there wouldn't be anyone they'd acknowledge to make the laws. Best ya can hope for is traditional laws made by a great ancestor o something. :smalltongue:

You mean something like the tenets of the One True Faith that binds all Vítharrheimr dwarves? Traditional laws like that? :smalltongue:

[drack]

Yeah, something like that. :smallbiggrin: So, hillsmeet.

[MandibleBones]

Yeah, something like that. :smallbiggrin: So, hillsmeet.


Assuming you have movement left, and Bel's okay with it, I have no problem with you just continuing on to Hillsmeet this turn. Otherwise, this will take place whenever that's a thing that happens. Incidentally, if any of your unit was incorporeal, they aren't anymore once you cross into Hillsmeet.

About six miles out from the town of Hillsmeet, you start to feel Civilization in the air. It's still welcoming and rustic, but the buildings become more frequent, with stone and wood construction and roofs of sod, grass and slate. The dwarves who live here seem like lively sorts — farmers, sheep and goat ranchers, cheesemakers, brewers and the like. (Think Edoras from Tolkien).

Here and there, there are soldiers. Here and there, there are town guards. You're stopped about a mile into the region by a troop of stout dwarven archers. Their commander, Cormac McSlattery, greets you.

"Hail, envoy, and welcome to the Reaches of Vítharrheim, in the name of Reachlord Sólgandr son of Kláus. What would you have of the Vítharrheimr? Trade, alliance, or simply good neighborship?"

[drack]

Yup, I've got plenty of movement and Bel cleared me up to your lands, once I'm in your lands it's all you mate. :smallbiggrin:

The masked man smiles, a slight craze to his eye. "We have come for peace, or trade, or maybe a war." His laughter like music had a sinister ring, and behind him one or two had a sling. Thousands of fairies did twirl in the air, certainly more then would necessarily be fair. The man wore some firs of wolf and of deer, but mixed in among them were skins that did not inspire much cheer. Who is your leader and where might they be, we've much to speak of, and much still to see.

[MandibleBones]

"Reachlord Sólgandr is in the field at present. I am authorized to conduct preliminary negotiations for the Vítharrheimr. For what nation do you speak, Envoy? And what am I to call you?" He leads the Envoy to what appears to be a well-stocked meadhall and invites the host to eat, drink, and be guests while they negotiate.

So yeah, we can come to terms, but I'll have to spend the Envoy action eventually to make them binding and such. Which I can do eventually, I suppose. Presumably these things take time.

[drack]

"I am Jack..." He gestures to the faeries about him "...lord of the fey, can I trust now your people will by your word stay?" With grace, but without all too much care, Jack brushed away the offered food and drink, though some of the other faeries did readily accept more sweet sweet delights.

Once assured of the word of the dwarf and his men, the fey lord goes on to sit in their den. "Our people have waited and it is time now at last that once more are there herds where there weren't in the past. We'll hunt and we'll bask in the blood we do spill, but there are creatures about for us yet to kill, and so I do ask you of dwarven blood stout, answer me now, and if you must, shout. Do your people seek peace and warmth in their beds, or war and flames as we chop off their heads? Shall we leave you peacefully without but a care, or leave here rivals if you do so dare?" As the lord speaks of violence and killing and war one can't help but think he'd love swimming in gore. The glee in his grin and the fire in his eyes, how many thousands had by his hand died? As he speaks does he rise like a beast in his seat, ready to lunge without missing a beat.

[MandibleBones]

"Lord Jack, our people are not in the habit of forswearing ourselves. If good neighbors you seek to be, and hunt your own lands rather than ours, I believe it's only a matter of determining boundaries. We seek neither war nor conquest; though think us not weak: Though we love not war, if you start one, we will end it." He smiles, grim but of good cheer. "If there is to be rivalry, let it not be costly war, but a competition as to what we may each accomplish in creation — and the better for both our lands if there is to be trade along with it."

He also lets Jack know that the Reachlord's Envoy should be arriving in the western faerie territory within a day's time, carrying the same message.

[drack]

Er, by the way, he doesn't always rhyme, it's just addictive. I tried to give my backstories a somewhat obstructed tune and rhyme to them and now it's just perpetuating in my posts. :smalltongue:

Having offered a war for fun and for joy, Jack was offended to see it tossed aside like a ploy. Moreover a man could sit and draw boarders in bed, but outside his lands might be dripping red.
"If your word blows like dust and cannot commitments bare, then where will be trust, lost up in the air? You speak of your people and their love of but fun, then you speak now of war and pretend you have won. You speak of neighbors and where boundaries lay, but you speak as if all is but casual play. We are not your girl twirl or childhood friend, but a people of might enough to spell out your end. I ask of you here as courtesy and not as a friend, there are people aplenty in the woods with which to contend. No, I speak to you plainly and plane do ask, is it in war or in peace that your people would bask. I care not for this rock that is your mountain home, but only for that which is more overgrown. I speak more of slaughter and blood to be spilt, would you not feel better whilst grasping a hilt?"

[MandibleBones]

"Plainly then: Peace, in the mountains, hills, stones and marshes of Vítharrheim. We care not what you do in your woods."

[drack]

Yup, Jack's about as diplomatic as a box of nails, I'm almost surprised when there isn't a sword sticking through it whenever he opens his mouth. :smalltongue:


Slowly Jack lets out a long slow sigh as the glee seems to dry up and he sinks back into the chair once more. Solumnly he accepts the plain roll before him and a pitcher of ale as he asks somewhat depressingly "...and I suppose this is the view of your... lord, king, earl, council..." he waves his hands as if to suggest all such titles "... as well?"

[MandibleBones]

McSlattery thinks about saying "If he's changed his mind in the last 24 hours, I haven't heard about it," realizes that Jack would probably take that as a "maybe," and simply says "Yes. Yes it is."

[drack]

"That... is truly a shame..." It was not the first time that Jack had seen such people, but he could not find it in him to lament that they would soon die, after all, what civilization had survived this savage world with such a peaceable attitude? Perhaps on the morrow they'd be invaded by fishmen or swampdragons, maybe even an undead hoard, and he couldn't even find quality entertainment in imagining such a slaughter... Well I suppose we should talk of what you'd care to. You mentioned trade, but there's nothing we need or want that we don't already have. We'll grant you peace and the lands you hold, if you are to expand anywhere but up the slope I may need return. Is that agreeable?

[MandibleBones]

"It is. We have no expansionist plans other than up the slope, as you say."

[drack]

Jack considers this and shrugs, then asks "Are there any other topics you think we should cover?"

[MandibleBones]

"I believe that's all."

Filler text filler text lorum ipsum dolor sit amet

[drack]

Finishing his pitcher in but a single drought he slips the bread into his coat to eat later and rises from his chair. Bowing somewhat stiffly he replies "Then we thank you for your hospitality." As he speaks these words the mead hall instantly changes as every surface within it grows rapidly more and more ornate with gemstones and precious metals appearing out of nowhere to better decorate the place. It is not just the structure though, the mead seems to grow stouter, and the bread more crisp and hearty as the smells of food and drink that permeate the hall grow mouthwatering thick. Within moments the place adopts the elegance of a lord's manner and perhaps the value of a king's treasure room. As this change takes place the smaller fairies swarm leaving gifts and blessings ranging from bags of fungal spores that might yield great crops if shaken in the right caves to wines made of sweet nectars and fresh morning dew. With this the fey lord did rise and depart, without uncouth gesture, not even a fart. And all the fairies from far and from wide did proceed to follow him or fly by his side. To the skies did jack take, striding through them with ease, and about him the fairies danced to and through as they pleased.


Permanent image, your meadhouse looks like it's worth a fortune (though if anything is removed it'll revert to how it looked before), and it's now eternally filled with more alluring aromatic smells and more potent variations of all previously existing flavors.

... and the fairy wines, spores, and assorted other gifts represent 500RP for you. What can I say, I'm not friendly, but nor am I too stingy. :smallsmile: (Plus, it's a rather old tradition to at least give something when you stay elsewhere as a guest.)


the next day somewhere northwesterly

Jack sat on a bench of ice, watching casually as the owl wings beat the frosted skies in the distance. Not a soul stirred in the frozen tundra around him, but he took no heed of his apparent vulnerability, waiting patiently without moving himself. As they drew closer at last he rose and walked up the skies as easily as a man might climb stairs. When he deemed himself at a suitable altitude he waited once more, this time for them to come within earshot at which point he inquired "Yes?"

Yup, I'll let you wonder how he got there so quickly if you see fit to. :smallsmile:

[drack]

(double post for subscribers)
OOC

By the way, I did say in the OOC that Bel told me he's not rolling up random encounters for diplomatic units that are just passing through, and that I should just send all the ones that'll arrive within a week. (Still figuring out if that's one or four IC weeks, but I hope that's not holding you up any. :smallsmile:

[MandibleBones]

OOC:
Nope, brief intervention by real life. Will respond to this later today; tomorrow at the latest.

[drack]

OOC

No prob, just making sure. :smallsmile:

[MandibleBones]

At the edge of the frozen lands, a flight of giant, snowy owls crests the mountains from the east. All but one hover watching, making no aggressive movements.

The lead owl lands, and a white-haired, beardless dwarf woman in flight chain dismounts. She smells of the open sky and cold mountain air, and looks utterly thrilled to be in the icy permafrost. In the common tongue, she speaks:

"I am Elaine Sigynsdöttir, an Envoy of the Reaches of Vítharrheim. Are you he who speaks for your lands?"

[drack]

Jack did his arms so peacefully spread whilst behind him the sky morning light was now shed. "I am Jack, Lord of all Fea, tell me, why is it you come this fine day?"

[MandibleBones]

"You are one of our closest neighbors, and, unsure that you would send an Envoy yourself, we wanted to extend the hand of peace and assure you we have no intention of expanding into your lands. Also, we bring a gift from our Reachlord, Sólgandr son of Kláus, as a token of our goodwill. We are told you have mighty killing fields, good Lord Jack, thus we suspect you are a warlike people. While we have no desire to war against you, we respect your nature and wish to encourage it within your own killing fields."

From her back, Elaine removes a sheathed longsword, inlaid with runes and intricate artwork, and presents it, hilt first, to Jack.

"Thus, we present you with Ragnbrandr —*'Lord's Blade' in the old tongue — forged in bright fire by Reachlord Sólgandr as a gift to your people."

Ragnbrandr is a +1 Keen Speed Longsword, valued at ~500 RP. My PC is absolutely capable of crafting it.

[drack]

Jack takes the sword, examining it's length for quality and swinging it through the air to feel the balance. "A worthy blade, fear not, there is much game yet for me to hunt in the woodlands, even my killing fields in which mouse and bug might fear to tread are teaming with life waiting to be cut from this world. I have treated with your lord and and peace for now, in one score weeks I invite you to return here when there is less game to hunt, we should speak then of our fates, least the years get ahead of us. This should also give time that we might better consider our standing in this world. From what I have seen... perhaps an age of peace has truly come... or perhaps the war has scarce yet begun..." There was a foreboding note in Jack's warning, though it didn't seem a threat. In truth it was probably just old age talking, but however he might hope that war would sweep across the lands, it was not this hope that affirmed that it would, but rather experience, and in that he could trust.

[MandibleBones]

Elaine nods. "So be it, then. With your leave, we shall return to the Reaches." Unless Jack bids her stay, she takes wing and the whole flight leaves.

I should probably ask Bel if I can just return to the reaches now, or move on — since I've got a lot more move.

[drack]

Jack watches the griffins depart, silently wondering what to do with his gift.

He probably will. :smallsmile:

[drack]

(double-post for subscribers)

Does your silence mean you'd rather I stay out of the war anyways? :smalltongue:

[MandibleBones]

(double-post for subscribers)

Does your silence mean you'd rather I stay out of the war anyways? :smalltongue:


My silence means I totally forgot to have this discussion before the turn resolved and my envoys flew away. At some point we'll revisit; they may have found closer dwarves first anyway :-)