The Qladbishshe Peace Ball

[DimpleLoamsdown]

The Ball of Qladbishshe.
21st of Dosatha 1791 Anarchic
http://www.sumopaint.com/images/000/dhhibzphkrrdiabt.png

The walk to the village of Qladbishshe is a long and dreary one. The atmosphere of the walk feels very dead. Hundreds of years ago, the trees of the forest in the region where heavily scorched and no trees have grown since. Many of the trees have the general appearance of having been splattered with blood, and some are actually splattered with blood as a result of the brutal Battle of Initiation. There is very little sign of life in during the walk, with the exception of the occasional blueberry bush, which parties are permitted to eat from.

When the parties arrive in Qladbishshe, they may either go through the quiet little town of Qladbishshe, or walk directly through the ancient burnt area of the village.

Through the village
The parties that walk through the village initially are met by a guide, who tells them the story of the Septius Affair. Many centuries ago, this used to be a village of at least twice the size. Then, the vicious Qlan Septius, the only cannibalistic Qlan to ever march over Celessa boldly invaded the Noveqtius village. They eliminated every last Noveqtius Bearmen, conquering the village for their own. The nearby Qlan of Deseqtius did not like this at all. In retaliation, the Qlan invaded the Noveqtius village, murdering every last member of the Septius Qlan. Directly after the Septius Affair, the peaceful house of Starodubsteva won the rule of the village. They have ruled over Qladbishshe peacefully ever since.
As the parties walk towards the burnt area of the village, where the ball is going to be held, the parties pass the Graveyard of Qlans, where the guide tells them that this is where every single member of the Septius and Noveqtius Qlan is buried.

Through the burnt area of the village
The parties that walk through the burnt part village meet dead silence. Nothing makes any noise, with the exception of the footsteps of the party. The ashen foundations of thousands of houses are all that remain in this area of the village. The church of Noveqtius is easily visible from afar and is very intimidating, made with dark stone, looming over the rest of the burnt village. After a half hour of walking through the burnt village, the parties can hear the musicians at the church, warming up their instruments of Tavolacci design for the ball.

Arrival at the church
The church is made of large dark stone bricks, and of gothic design. The entrance consists of three giant arches. At this point, the guides bid farewell to the parties that traveled through the village. Ceremonial guards stand at the base of each arch, wielding pikes. A ceremonial guard captain stands at the bottom of the dark stone stairs that lead up to the church, ready to receive the guests and guide them in the correct directions. When the parties first arrive, the guard captain directs them to the lawn of the church. On the lawn, a tent has been set up for each of the invited parties, adorned with the colours and the flags of the parties' country. This is where the parties can rest and change, if necessary. The expected attire would be a doublet for men and a Tudor Dress for women, although it would not be frowned upon if the guests dressed differently.
At sunset, the ball's start is signified by the lighting of the torches and the candles in the church, casting long shadows onto the lawn. At this point, the guests are welcomed into the church, to participate in the ball.
In the corner of the hall, an orchestra (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H__WgOgH6CE) consisting of a mix of Tavolacci instruments and traditional Bearmen instruments performs for the guests. The orchestra is conducted by Testifonte Tavolacci himself. Along the wall of the church, a long table has been placed. The table is filled with delicious foods, cooked to simulate the food of the countries from which the parties came, although there is still a section of the table containing traditional Bearmen foods. At the end of the table, many glasses have been placed, positioned with their openings on the tablecloth. Next to them are many kegs and casks of fine Bearmen alcohol.
On the opposite wall, a table is set and to be used for signing contracts, deals and agreements between the guests. Miqhail is standing at this table, wearing a tight doublet, awaiting the arrival of the guests that he has invited. Miqhails siblings, Surqov, Yarstev and his wife Gasheva, Ivan, Ivazov, Zimin and his wife Dundniq, Vistin and finally Vlad, the youngest of the brothers are all present. They stand about, some of them dancing, others idly conversing with each other.

[QuintonBeck]

It had been almost five years since Ishael Ada Karha had conned his way into the holy city of Shanadeer and met with Archbishop Logoron to discuss the matter of Medved and to propose an alliance between the gnomish folk of Saralyn and the Kingdom of Gleiss. He had been pretending to be a diplomat then, someone with official business and authority to represent the crown of Zhentanna. It was amusing to him now that he actually was all he had claimed to be largely because of that lie. A lot had happened since that gate crashing. Saralyn and Gleiss had become quite close, largely because of his words to both King Markus and Prime Minister Hadrick, and though Ishael was not present for every meeting between the two powers he was among the few to have knowledge of their plans both for the immediate and long term future of their realms. So too had he become involved in that discussions of war, both conventional and unconventional, against Boris of Medved as the Bearman conqueror sought to spread his dominion far and wide. When news had come of Boris' capture and Nozh's poisoning Ishael had celebrated and felt the same elation as those men of Gleiss and Saralyn and it was then he realized despite his heritage he had found a second home.

Prince Noham's authority naming him Agent of Lavilin and Zhentanna had been something the two had discussed when seeking a way to empower the Zhen involvement in Gleiss yet despite knowing it to be coming he had still been pleased when news arrived of his appointment. He carried that parchment which authorized his authority to speak for the Kingdom of Zhentanna now, hopeful he would be able to use it at this Ball to ensure peace and prosperity for his second homeland. The Zhen was dressed in his typical flowing robe of green and blue adorned on his fingers and neck with jewelry both secular and Kunist in design. He was approaching forty years now faster than he would care to admit and sprigs of grey clustered around his temples amid his otherwise dark black hair which was worn shoulder length and without embellishment. He carried no weapon, to do so was relatively rare among those Zhen who were not officers of the law, and came alone. Though discussion had been had of inviting a representative of Saralyn to accompany him it had been decided it would be better for the gnomish delegation to accompany Gleiss. No doubt King Markus would be more capable of providing suitable protection and accommodation than Ishael could.

When it came to a choice in the road Ishael chose to walk through the village. The empty lands of Qladbishshe disconcerted the southerner for they showed signs of life now gone and never returned. To see a land so empty where it was once so full of life made him uncomfortable in a way he could not express. He listened to the story of the Bearmen clan conflicts carefully attempting to discern a moral lesson or parable. Four clans just as there were four powers now fighting the war Boris had started though Ishael was unsure who was who if such an analogy was to be drawn. Was Medved Clan Septius? Surely not if the Bearmen were telling the story. Who then was clan Starodubsteva and how had they won control without conflict where so many had died? Perhaps it held no deeper meaning.

Ishael entered the church quietly with little fanfare, content to enjoy the buffet and drinks to delay meeting with Miqhail until his allies from Gleiss and Saralyn arrived. They would be necessary in resolving this matter by contract and not by sword and he did not wish to approach Boris' successor without them.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

It had been almost five years since Ishael Ada Karha had conned his way into the holy city of Shanadeer and met with Archbishop Logoron to discuss the matter of Medved and to propose an alliance between the gnomish folk of Saralyn and the Kingdom of Gleiss. He had been pretending to be a diplomat then, someone with official business and authority to represent the crown of Zhentanna. It was amusing to him now that he actually was all he had claimed to be largely because of that lie. A lot had happened since that gate crashing. Saralyn and Gleiss had become quite close, largely because of his words to both King Markus and Prime Minister Hadrick, and though Ishael was not present for every meeting between the two powers he was among the few to have knowledge of their plans both for the immediate and long term future of their realms. So too had he become involved in that discussions of war, both conventional and unconventional, against Boris of Medved as the Bearman conqueror sought to spread his dominion far and wide. When news had come of Boris' capture and Nozh's poisoning Ishael had celebrated and felt the same elation as those men of Gleiss and Saralyn and it was then he realized despite his heritage he had found a second home.

Prince Noham's authority naming him Agent of Lavilin and Zhentanna had been something the two had discussed when seeking a way to empower the Zhen involvement in Gleiss yet despite knowing it to be coming he had still been pleased when news arrived of his appointment. He carried that parchment which authorized his authority to speak for the Kingdom of Zhentanna now, hopeful he would be able to use it at this Ball to ensure peace and prosperity for his second homeland. The Zhen was dressed in his typical flowing robe of green and blue adorned on his fingers and neck with jewelry both secular and Kunist in design. He was approaching forty years now faster than he would care to admit and sprigs of grey clustered around his temples amid his otherwise dark black hair which was worn shoulder length and without embellishment. He carried no weapon, to do so was relatively rare among those Zhen who were not officers of the law, and came alone. Though discussion had been had of inviting a representative of Saralyn to accompany him it had been decided it would be better for the gnomish delegation to accompany Gleiss. No doubt King Markus would be more capable of providing suitable protection and accommodation than Ishael could.

When it came to a choice in the road Ishael chose to walk through the village. The empty lands of Qladbishshe disconcerted the southerner for they showed signs of life now gone and never returned. To see a land so empty where it was once so full of life made him uncomfortable in a way he could not express. He listened to the story of the Bearmen clan conflicts carefully attempting to discern a moral lesson or parable. Four clans just as there were four powers now fighting the war Boris had started though Ishael was unsure who was who if such an analogy was to be drawn. Was Medved Clan Septius? Surely not if the Bearmen were telling the story. Who then was clan Starodubsteva and how had they won control without conflict where so many had died? Perhaps it held no deeper meaning.

Ishael entered the church quietly with little fanfare, content to enjoy the buffet and drinks to delay meeting with Miqhail until his allies from Gleiss and Saralyn arrived. They would be necessary in resolving this matter by contract and not by sword and he did not wish to approach Boris' successor without them.

Ivan of Medved, younger brother of Miqhail and strongest brother of the family, approached Ishael. "G'day to you sir!" he said, smiling, "It is good to meet representative from your country for first time!" he stated, extending his hand with the intention of wringing the hand of Ishael. "How were your travels good sir? I notice that you have not brought a dancing partner with you. Would you like me to find one for you among the people of Qladbishshe?" he asked, pouring a drink for himself and for Ishael.

[Lord_Burch]

Omesh Cantai Talaivar, Lord of the Rushing Falls, First Minister of War to the Kin of Ciriya, walked towards the village with a sense of dread. He had left behind his escort– a bare ten men, but all of them stout soldiers raised from his ancestral lands and loyal to the death– and was accompanied now only by his fellow diplomat, a short goblin man. Omesh had dressed for the occasion– black robes, with touches of gold embroidery, the traditional attire for his station. The only ornament was a small flower, worked in gold, upon the left breast, a concession to the home of the man he now served under.

Omesh was a cautious man, a result of experience gained serving under four of the Kin of Ciriya– though one was a weak fool, and he had done little yet in the service of the fourth. Perhaps, tonight, that would change. The Kin of Ciriya– the King of Gleiss, too, although that title mattered little to him– had chosen him to perform a crucial service in the name of the crown. As the First Minister of War, it was his duty to see to matters of peace as well. In times past, he had been called upon to broker truces between feuding lords, bring judgement upon dissidents within the realm, and to see that bloodshed and death were the final option. These were his duties, yes, but they did not explain why the Kin had elected to send him, rather than one of his more trusted men from his home. Perhaps it was a test of loyalty, or one of competence; perhaps, he laughed bitterly to himself, perhaps it is because he was disposable. Maybe the answer was all of the above.

Glancing aside– and taking in the sights of the burned and ruined village around them– his thoughts turned to his companion. An odious man, in his opinion, one who thought too much of himself and contained pride enough for five others. Still, the short goblin walking beside him– and hurrying his step to keep up with Omesh's long strides– held the ear of the Kin. The self-proclaimed baron had apparently done some sort of service for the Kin; whatever the reason was, the fact was that Baron Kadhir Gene could often be found in counsel with Kin Markus. The man wasn't totally devoid of sense, he supposed; he had donned a black doublet similar in style to his own, the proper dress for a man at war, though it contained far too much silver and gold workings for it to be proper. He had even covered his shameful baldness with a small, rounded hat, also in black.

As they arrived at the church, Omesh began to look for his allies that he was sure would be attending. Some, he knew, were behind him, and would arrive after; the delegates from Zhentanna, however, may very well have arrived before him. With no small amount of annoyance, he noticed the goblin baron slipping away from him as soon as they entered. Trust a goblin to abandon duty as soon as possible; why the baron of all people had been chosen to accompany him, he would likely never know. Seeing the representative from Zhentanna at the buffet, he schooled his face into a pleasant smile, and walked towards him. A brief flicker of annoyance crossed his face as he saw the Bearman reach Ishael before him, but he had resumed his smile before approaching the pair.

Greetings from Kin Markus, Ishael. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, a true pleasure, as Omesh extended his hand to the man. Glancing at the Bearman who had just introduced himself, And to you as well, good sir. Tell me your name, please? I am First Minister Omesh Cantai Talaivar– but please, call me Omesh.

[Aedilred]

Count Davit Jaqeli made his way through the village, noting the various bloodstains splattered around the vicinity. It's been years, he thought, since the Bearmen took this place, and they have still not troubled to clean it, not even for the arrival of guests. Perhaps this was a clumsy attempt at intimidation, but if so it was having little effect - neither on him, nor, he suspected, his escort. Morale among the host of the Duke was sky-high at present, and the lords of the region had unanimously agreed to maintain his host for another season. His homeland was united as he had never known it, yet the coalition was still shaky, and both he and Tomar were aware of the desirability of agreeing peace before it fractured.

Upon arriving at his tent, the first thing he did was to order the banner of Guria taken down, and replaced by his own of Sarmagalo. While all were agreed Tomar was the man to lead the army, there was still muttering that this would place too much power in the hands of Guria, and the Duke might in time use his popularity and position to declare himself king. Better that Davit use his own insignia to conduct the negotiations, on behalf of them all, than be seen overmuch as the Duke's agent - although to all practical purposes he was.

His nose wrinkled slightly as he stepped into the church and saw that the ball was to be held here. While he couldn't off the top of his head think of any strictures against dancing in a church, it nevertheless seemed blasphemous. He wondered too what the Gleiss representatives would make of it - it wasn't their church, but he was used to the way Kunists viewed Shishiyans in his homeland - ostensible politeness with a slight, intangible hint of pity and contempt - and he suspected this would hardly help matters.

He spotted the Gleiss representative talking to a Bearman and someone with a southern appearance, and made his way over.

Davit is a middle-aged man dressed in a hip-length doublet with short breeches and hose, a black chaperon, and a fur-lined houppelande.

[Lord of Monies]

The state of affairs in the north were a fractured matter of concern, aggression and defiance. Many an experimental gnome has soon learnt to think quickly but to act slowly in order to learn as much as they can and avoid disaster. Their longer lifespan suits this mentality and this is often taken into account when observing and judging the actions from those of other races. When one nation decides to act quickly and keep moving across the land with more speed it strongly suggests that not much thought or the wrong thought has been applied to such motion.

It was Gleiss that had originally approached him with the prospect of an alliance to keep this ambition in check and the cabinet had agreed that King Markus was a man worthy of respect and friendship. Zhentanna's interest in such matters was unexpected but had also proven themselves to be a like-minded people of great interest that Hadrick knew would lead to great strides for them all. Boris was not present and for that fact the Duke Tomar was due great respect for such a bold and decisive move. Hadrick hoped to find the man himself here if he deigned to personally attend, but there would not be a lack of developments here today if that were not the case.

The Prime Minister had arrived with his wife, Erina, dressed in their finest attire; he in a sharp plum-coloured waistcoat and suit and she complimenting nicely with a flowing maroon dress. They elected to arrive from the old town to gather an impression of the legacy that followed and fueled Medved. To see it was a burnt husk of a village seemed depressingly fitting. Whatever thought was guiding this nation was narrow and gave no time for the restoration of the domain they now held responsibility for. It was distasteful though he did wonder if it was for that reason that the ball was being held here. With this in mind and peace their goal, the ruling couple of Saralyn walked through the devastation with purpose and strength; a small stone to cause ripples and hopefully leave behind stillness as they arrived at the stone archways of the church.

[woolli264]

The Grand Knight of Jauder did not travel often. He disliked long journeys, different climates and, most of all, the big folk.
He arrived at the town on a small cart pulled by two tamed pigs. These pigs were not pink like the humans who kept them but covered in thick hair, like a troll. The Grand Knight wished trolls could have pulled his cart but since the news of the cannibalistic three armed troll who had escaped into the wild the Grand Knight was to be kept away from all trolls, Keepers orders. The wild three armed troll was the main reason Jacque was travelling. He was judged to be safer in contested foreign lands owned by barbarians and absurdly large humans than in Jauder where a wild animal might be raising an army to overthrow the government. It was the Grand Knights own belief that this whole troll business had been blown a bit out of proportion.
Jacque was here for political reasons too. Through the goblin court in Gobsfull he knew of his racial comrades living in secrecy in the land of Bearmen. He cringed to think of how they put up with such huge humans breathing down their necks. Perhaps while the others negotiated deals related to their war he could get them some benefits. Then again, most of the big folk hate the littles. He would count this event as a success if someone didn't try to kill him.
Jacque wore bright baggy clothes coloured blue and green as well as a floppy red hat and a small red cape. His pointed shoes clacked when he walked. At his hip he wore a very real sword, a bit short for a human but a decent length for a person of his size. He would not tell anyone that he used to be a banker and had never fought with his sword against anything aside from the occasional vegetable but Jacque had discovered early on in his career that carrying a sword makes people listen to your opinions with a far less critical ear.
He also carried, and sometimes dragged, a wooden box about a foot high and long with half as much width. It served two valuable purposes. It stored the Grand Knights valuables that he did not wish to leave in the cart and it gave him a bit of height when he stood on it. Raising your height is key to asserting yourself more effectively, the Keeper had told him but he mainly wanted it to reach the food tables.
He was dragging his box as he entered the church, managing to make quite a lot of noise while fiddling with the doors. He waved to the assembled foreigners and said, "Ah food!" before dragging his box over to the buffet and feeding himself.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Omesh Cantai Talaivar, Lord of the Rushing Falls, First Minister of War to the Kin of Ciriya, walked towards the village with a sense of dread. He had left behind his escort– a bare ten men, but all of them stout soldiers raised from his ancestral lands and loyal to the death– and was accompanied now only by his fellow diplomat, a short goblin man. Omesh had dressed for the occasion– black robes, with touches of gold embroidery, the traditional attire for his station. The only ornament was a small flower, worked in gold, upon the left breast, a concession to the home of the man he now served under.

Omesh was a cautious man, a result of experience gained serving under four of the Kin of Ciriya– though one was a weak fool, and he had done little yet in the service of the fourth. Perhaps, tonight, that would change. The Kin of Ciriya– the King of Gleiss, too, although that title mattered little to him– had chosen him to perform a crucial service in the name of the crown. As the First Minister of War, it was his duty to see to matters of peace as well. In times past, he had been called upon to broker truces between feuding lords, bring judgement upon dissidents within the realm, and to see that bloodshed and death were the final option. These were his duties, yes, but they did not explain why the Kin had elected to send him, rather than one of his more trusted men from his home. Perhaps it was a test of loyalty, or one of competence; perhaps, he laughed bitterly to himself, perhaps it is because he was disposable. Maybe the answer was all of the above.

Glancing aside– and taking in the sights of the burned and ruined village around them– his thoughts turned to his companion. An odious man, in his opinion, one who thought too much of himself and contained pride enough for five others. Still, the short goblin walking beside him– and hurrying his step to keep up with Omesh's long strides– held the ear of the Kin. The self-proclaimed baron had apparently done some sort of service for the Kin; whatever the reason was, the fact was that Baron Kadhir Gene could often be found in counsel with Kin Markus. The man wasn't totally devoid of sense, he supposed; he had donned a black doublet similar in style to his own, the proper dress for a man at war, though it contained far too much silver and gold workings for it to be proper. He had even covered his shameful baldness with a small, rounded hat, also in black.

As they arrived at the church, Omesh began to look for his allies that he was sure would be attending. Some, he knew, were behind him, and would arrive after; the delegates from Zhentanna, however, may very well have arrived before him. With no small amount of annoyance, he noticed the goblin baron slipping away from him as soon as they entered. Trust a goblin to abandon duty as soon as possible; why the baron of all people had been chosen to accompany him, he would likely never know. Seeing the representative from Zhentanna at the buffet, he schooled his face into a pleasant smile, and walked towards him. A brief flicker of annoyance crossed his face as he saw the Bearman reach Ishael before him, but he had resumed his smile before approaching the pair.

Greetings from Kin Markus, Ishael. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, a true pleasure, as Omesh extended his hand to the man. Glancing at the Bearman who had just introduced himself, And to you as well, good sir. Tell me your name, please? I am First Minister Omesh Cantai Talaivar– but please, call me Omesh.

"I go by name of Ivan," Ivan said, extending his hand to shake Omesh's hand. "Welcome to the ball. I see that you have brought many guests with you," he said, smiling.

Count Davit Jaqeli made his way through the village, noting the various bloodstains splattered around the vicinity. It's been years, he thought, since the Bearmen took this place, and they have still not troubled to clean it, not even for the arrival of guests. Perhaps this was a clumsy attempt at intimidation, but if so it was having little effect - neither on him, nor, he suspected, his escort. Morale among the host of the Duke was sky-high at present, and the lords of the region had unanimously agreed to maintain his host for another season. His homeland was united as he had never known it, yet the coalition was still shaky, and both he and Tomar were aware of the desirability of agreeing peace before it fractured.

Upon arriving at his tent, the first thing he did was to order the banner of Guria taken down, and replaced by his own of Sarmagalo. While all were agreed Tomar was the man to lead the army, there was still muttering that this would place too much power in the hands of Guria, and the Duke might in time use his popularity and position to declare himself king. Better that Davit use his own insignia to conduct the negotiations, on behalf of them all, than be seen overmuch as the Duke's agent - although to all practical purposes he was.

His nose wrinkled slightly as he stepped into the church and saw that the ball was to be held here. While he couldn't off the top of his head think of any strictures against dancing in a church, it nevertheless seemed blasphemous. He wondered too what the Gleiss representatives would make of it - it wasn't their church, but he was used to the way Kunists viewed Shishiyans in his homeland - ostensible politeness with a slight, intangible hint of pity and contempt - and he suspected this would hardly help matters.

He spotted the Gleiss representative talking to a Bearman and someone with a southern appearance, and made his way over.

Davit is a middle-aged man dressed in a hip-length doublet with short breeches and hose, a black chaperon, and a fur-lined houppelande.

Ivan barely kept himself smiling as he saw the capturer of his father approaching. "G'day and welcome to you!" Ivan said, bowing to the Count.

The state of affairs in the north were a fractured matter of concern, aggression and defiance. Many an experimental gnome has soon learnt to think quickly but to act slowly in order to learn as much as they can and avoid disaster. Their longer lifespan suits this mentality and this is often taken into account when observing and judging the actions from those of other races. When one nation decides to act quickly and keep moving across the land with more speed it strongly suggests that not much thought or the wrong thought has been applied to such motion. It was Gleiss that had originally approached him with the prospect of an alliance to keep this ambition in check and the cabinet had agreed that King Markus was a man worthy of respect and friendship. Zhentanna's interest in such matters was unexpected but had also proven themselves to be a like-minded people of great interest that Hadrick knew would lead to great strides for them all.

To have not received an invitation to these talks of peace was then an insult to the Prime Minister. Had his people not placed a direct claim to the conflict by fighting alongside King Markus himself in battle? Did the people of Medved truly see and think so little of his people that they were not worth even a moment of consideration? Boris was not present and for that fact the Duke Tomar was due great respect for such a bold and decisive move. Hadrick hoped to find the man himself here if he deigned to personally attend, but there would not be a lack of developments here today if that were not the case.

The Prime Minister had arrived with his wife, Erina, dressed in their finest attire; he in a sharp plum-coloured waistcoat and suit and she complimenting nicely with a flowing maroon dress. They elected to arrive from the old town to gather an impression of the legacy that followed and fueld Medved. To see it was a burnt husk of a village seemed depressingly fitting. Whatever thought was guiding this nation was narrow and gave no time for the restoration of the domain they now held responsibility for. It was distasteful though he did wonder if it was for that reason that the ball was being held here. With this in mind and peace their goal, the ruling couple of Saralyn walked through the devastation with purpose and strength; a small stone to cause ripples and hopefully leave behind stillness as they arrived at the stone archways of the church.

As the Gnomes enter the venue, the Strongmen Zimin and his Highmen wife Dundniq approach the delegation, ready to start conversation with them.
"Welcome to the ball," Zimin said, smiling politely. "I hope that we can find peaceful resolutions to the conflict between our people and your allies," Zimin said, extending his hand to the gnomes.

The Grand Knight of Jauder did not travel often. He disliked long journeys, different climates and, most of all, the big folk.
He arrived at the town on a small cart pulled by two tamed pigs. These pigs were not pink like the humans who kept them but covered in thick hair, like a troll. The Grand Knight wished trolls could have pulled his cart but since the news of the cannibalistic three armed troll who had escaped into the wild the Grand Knight was to be kept away from all trolls, Keepers orders. The wild three armed troll was the main reason Jacque was travelling. He was judged to be safer in contested foreign lands owned by barbarians and absurdly large humans than in Jauder where a wild animal might be raising an army to overthrow the government. It was the Grand Knights own belief that this whole troll business had been blown a bit out of proportion.
Jacque was here for political reasons too. Through the goblin court in Gobsfull he knew of his racial comrades living in secrecy in the land of Bearmen. He cringed to think of how they put up with such huge humans breathing down their necks. Perhaps while the others negotiated deals related to their war he could get them some benefits. Then again, most of the big folk hate the littles. He would count this event as a success if someone didn't try to kill him.
Jacque wore bright baggy clothes coloured blue and green as well as a floppy red hat and a small red cape. His pointed shoes clacked when he walked. At his hip he wore a very real sword, a bit short for a human but a decent length for a person of his size. He would not tell anyone that he used to be a banker and had never fought with his sword against anything aside from the occasional vegetable but Jacque had discovered early on in his career that carrying a sword makes people listen to your opinions with a far less critical ear.
He also carried, and sometimes dragged, a wooden box about a foot high and long with half as much width. It served two valuable purposes. It stored the Grand Knights valuables that he did not wish to leave in the cart and it gave him a bit of height when he stood on it. Raising your height is key to asserting yourself more effectively, the Keeper had told him but he mainly wanted it to reach the food tables.
He was dragging his box as he entered the church, managing to make quite a lot of noise while fiddling with the doors. He waved to the assembled foreigners and said, "Ah food!" before dragging his box over to the buffet and feeding himself.

Vistin, the Strongmen rushed over to Jacque to help him. "Would you like me to help you carry your box? I realize that your people are often treated unpleasantly around 'big-folk' as you might call us, but I am actually quite fond of goblins. When I was a very young child, my best friend was actually goblin, until he left for Strongport." He finished by tipping his hat to the Grand Knight.

[Rain Dragon]

Baron Kadhir Gene took the first opportunity he had to slip away. He did have his own goals after all and hanging around Omesh for too long would only slow him down, or at least that was his excuse. It wasn't long until his excuse was seemingly forgotten as he spotted refreshments nearby. In as refined a movement as possible, the goblin found a chair he could use to climb onto so he could survey the food. As he selected one most fitting of being eaten by such a fine fellow as himself he spotted out of the corner of his eye a flash of colour snatch a nearby morsel. Despite having missed the racket the other goblin had made on the way to the food, the Baron mentally patted himself on the back proudly at having found none other than the Grand Knight of Jauder himself. Grinning widely as he approached the other goblin* and bowing with as much dignity as he could muster, the Baron grandly announced, "Greetings, Your Excellency**!"

OOC - *He approaches when the GK doesn't seem busy =)
**I don't know how you're supposed to address the Grand Knight and couldn't find it sorry, but apparently the Baron was originally from Jauder so maybe he knows. Very sorry if I've missed it! :smallredface:

[Lord_Burch]

"I go by name of Ivan," Ivan said, extending his hand to shake Omesh's hand. "Welcome to the ball. I see that you have brought many guests with you," he said, smiling.



Ah, yes. Kin Markus has many friends. Speaking of friends, if I may have your leave Ishael, Ivan? I would like to speak to the both of you before the night is out, but first the Count and I must exchange words.Inclining his head to the both of them, Omesh catches the eye of the Count and nods towards the far wall of the church. If I may have a word, good Count?


Count Davit Jaqeli made his way through the village, noting the various bloodstains splattered around the vicinity. It's been years, he thought, since the Bearmen took this place, and they have still not troubled to clean it, not even for the arrival of guests. Perhaps this was a clumsy attempt at intimidation, but if so it was having little effect - neither on him, nor, he suspected, his escort. Morale among the host of the Duke was sky-high at present, and the lords of the region had unanimously agreed to maintain his host for another season. His homeland was united as he had never known it, yet the coalition was still shaky, and both he and Tomar were aware of the desirability of agreeing peace before it fractured.

Upon arriving at his tent, the first thing he did was to order the banner of Guria taken down, and replaced by his own of Sarmagalo. While all were agreed Tomar was the man to lead the army, there was still muttering that this would place too much power in the hands of Guria, and the Duke might in time use his popularity and position to declare himself king. Better that Davit use his own insignia to conduct the negotiations, on behalf of them all, than be seen overmuch as the Duke's agent - although to all practical purposes he was.

His nose wrinkled slightly as he stepped into the church and saw that the ball was to be held here. While he couldn't off the top of his head think of any strictures against dancing in a church, it nevertheless seemed blasphemous. He wondered too what the Gleiss representatives would make of it - it wasn't their church, but he was used to the way Kunists viewed Shishiyans in his homeland - ostensible politeness with a slight, intangible hint of pity and contempt - and he suspected this would hardly help matters.

He spotted the Gleiss representative talking to a Bearman and someone with a southern appearance, and made his way over.

Davit is a middle-aged man dressed in a hip-length doublet with short breeches and hose, a black chaperon, and a fur-lined houppelande.

My good Count, I am glad to finally meet a representative from your esteemed realm. Why, when Kin Markus learned of your Duke's skill and prowess...! Well, he was heartened to learn that others in this world were willing and able to resist the predations of the Butcher. Despite no one being close enough to hear their conversation, Omesh nevertheless lowered his voice.

Speaking of the Butcher... I have been briefed on all the conversations that took place between Duke Tomar and Kin Markus. I remember that there was mention of a certain package, to be delivered to Kin Markus. What is that status of said package? Know that your answer does not change the goodwill and friendship the Kin feels towards you and your Duke, but knowledge of it could be critical for negotiations later in the night.


The state of affairs in the north were a fractured matter of concern, aggression and defiance. Many an experimental gnome has soon learnt to think quickly but to act slowly in order to learn as much as they can and avoid disaster. Their longer lifespan suits this mentality and this is often taken into account when observing and judging the actions from those of other races. When one nation decides to act quickly and keep moving across the land with more speed it strongly suggests that not much thought or the wrong thought has been applied to such motion.

It was Gleiss that had originally approached him with the prospect of an alliance to keep this ambition in check and the cabinet had agreed that King Markus was a man worthy of respect and friendship. Zhentanna's interest in such matters was unexpected but had also proven themselves to be a like-minded people of great interest that Hadrick knew would lead to great strides for them all. Boris was not present and for that fact the Duke Tomar was due great respect for such a bold and decisive move. Hadrick hoped to find the man himself here if he deigned to personally attend, but there would not be a lack of developments here today if that were not the case.

The Prime Minister had arrived with his wife, Erina, dressed in their finest attire; he in a sharp plum-coloured waistcoat and suit and she complimenting nicely with a flowing maroon dress. They elected to arrive from the old town to gather an impression of the legacy that followed and fueled Medved. To see it was a burnt husk of a village seemed depressingly fitting. Whatever thought was guiding this nation was narrow and gave no time for the restoration of the domain they now held responsibility for. It was distasteful though he did wonder if it was for that reason that the ball was being held here. With this in mind and peace their goal, the ruling couple of Saralyn walked through the devastation with purpose and strength; a small stone to cause ripples and hopefully leave behind stillness as they arrived at the stone archways of the church.

Approaching the couple when they are alone after his conversation with the Count, Omesh greets them with a deep bow and a smile. A pleasure to finally meet you, Prime Minister. I am First Minister Omesh, a servant to our mutual friend Kin Markus. He bid me to send you his deepest apologies, had you decided to attend tonight's ball; he wanted to meet you in person, but it was deemed too hazardous to come himself. Thus I was sent, to be his proxy. Pleasantries aside, however, I wanted to convey the friendship and gratitude Kin Markus and those of this court feel towards you and your people. Know that those of Ciriya and Gleiss aim to be your steadfast friends and allies.

[BootStrapTommy]

Harbinger Maya walked slowly through the village, only half listening to the guide as he spoke. She had seen many battlefields in her life, especially the carnage not long passed north of Shanadeer. The town around her had an almost haunted feel to it, the dark history of its past seeming ti make it recent history of conflict. The Suzerain had seemed little troubled by the invitation, but the Harbinger had thought it odd for the Estates to be invited. The best she could think of was that the large northerners sought Shishiyan aid, and therefore sought out the City of Flames' in hopes that a tie with the Defenders of Shanadeer might see closer ties with the rest of Shishiyandom. Maya had been proposed as the optimal candidate, given the Suzerain's preoccupation with the lands north of Shanadeer, while Senator Aëtius worked to aid him. Maya had built some rapport with Boris' son Miqhail, and the hope was that such would ease in any discussions the two factions.

Finally, her guides led her to the church, the fox's lips pursing at the sight. Perhaps it had not occurred to the men of the north was kind of signal the idea of throwing a party in an abandoned church might send. But May let herself smile, knowing she was the face of the Estates here. Her red hair was done up, as style she thought more appropriate to the occasion*than how she normally wore it. However, there was no dress on the Alepoúsói, she was a soldier and dressed as one. She wore the tunic traditional of the Auxilia, complete with a cloak, her tail poking through the riding slit in the back. She was announced*and walked into the church, a smile on her face as she greeted her hosts.

[woolli264]

Vistin, the Strongmen rushed over to Jacque to help him. "Would you like me to help you carry your box? I realize that your people are often treated unpleasantly around 'big-folk' as you might call us, but I am actually quite fond of goblins. When I was a very young child, my best friend was actually goblin, until he left for Strongport." He finished by tipping his hat to the Grand Knight.

As the un-introduced, though otherwise polite, fellow moved towards Jacque the Grand Knight did a double take, "By Silvest! What've they been feeding you man? You must be three times my size!" Jacques wariness only increased as this man attempted to buddy up to him. After a bit of reflection on how to come across as polite he said, "I'm sorry but where i'm from a stranger asking to hold my valuables would be rather unusual so I will decline your offer. Perhaps you could go get a drink instead?" Jacque had no intention of sticking around but the massive man could not possibly know that.


Baron Kadhir Gene took the first opportunity he had to slip away. He did have his own goals after all and hanging around Omesh for too long would only slow him down, or at least that was his excuse. It wasn't long until his excuse was seemingly forgotten as he spotted refreshments nearby. In as refined a movement as possible, the goblin found a chair he could use to climb onto so he could survey the food. As he selected one most fitting of being eaten by such a fine fellow as himself he spotted out of the corner of his eye a flash of colour snatch a nearby morsel. Despite having missed the racket the other goblin had made on the way to the food, the Baron mentally patted himself on the back proudly at having found none other than the Grand Knight of Jauder himself. Grinning widely as he approached the other goblin* and bowing with as much dignity as he could muster, the Baron grandly announced, "Greetings, Your Excellency**!"

OOC - *He approaches when the GK doesn't seem busy =)
**I don't know how you're supposed to address the Grand Knight and couldn't find it sorry, but apparently the Baron was originally from Jauder so maybe he knows. Very sorry if I've missed it! :smallredface:

OOC - Your excellency is fine, I have not written how he should be addressed anywhere and am now deciding that generally he is called sir or something :smallsmile:

The Grand Knight turned towards the Baron with a mouth full of food. A wide smile crossed his face and several morsels spilled onto the floor. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and said, "And to you! Who is this goblin that has the honour of increasing my enjoyment of this event tenfold?" This newcomer was not on the Gobsfull council but if he was an important official of another nation perhaps he should be.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Baron Kadhir Gene took the first opportunity he had to slip away. He did have his own goals after all and hanging around Omesh for too long would only slow him down, or at least that was his excuse. It wasn't long until his excuse was seemingly forgotten as he spotted refreshments nearby. In as refined a movement as possible, the goblin found a chair he could use to climb onto so he could survey the food. As he selected one most fitting of being eaten by such a fine fellow as himself he spotted out of the corner of his eye a flash of colour snatch a nearby morsel. Despite having missed the racket the other goblin had made on the way to the food, the Baron mentally patted himself on the back proudly at having found none other than the Grand Knight of Jauder himself. Grinning widely as he approached the other goblin* and bowing with as much dignity as he could muster, the Baron grandly announced, "Greetings, Your Excellency**!"

OOC - *He approaches when the GK doesn't seem busy =)
**I don't know how you're supposed to address the Grand Knight and couldn't find it sorry, but apparently the Baron was originally from Jauder so maybe he knows. Very sorry if I've missed it! :smallredface:

Vistin approached the Baron, saying, "Hello there," Vistin said, "Welcome to the ball! I hope that you enjoyed your journey!"


Ah, yes. Kin Markus has many friends. Speaking of friends, if I may have your leave Ishael, Ivan? I would like to speak to the both of you before the night is out, but first the Count and I must exchange words.Inclining his head to the both of them, Omesh catches the eye of the Count and nods towards the far wall of the church. If I may have a word, good Count?

"I am fine with this," Ivan said, bowing.


As the un-introduced, though otherwise polite, fellow moved towards Jacque the Grand Knight did a double take, "By Silvest! What've they been feeding you man? You must be three times my size!" Jacques wariness only increased as this man attempted to buddy up to him. After a bit of reflection on how to come across as polite he said, "I'm sorry but where i'm from a stranger asking to hold my valuables would be rather unusual so I will decline your offer. Perhaps you could go get a drink instead?" Jacque had no intention of sticking around but the massive man could not possibly know that.


"Yes, yes," Vistin said, "I should have fetched a drink for you first," Vistin said, blushing, before running off to grab a glass of wine for the Grand Knight.


Harbinger Maya walked slowly through the village, only half listening to the guide as he spoke. She had seen many battlefields in her life, especially the carnage not long passed north of Shanadeer. The town around her had an almost haunted feel to it, the dark history of its past seeming ti make it recent history of conflict. The Suzerain had seemed little troubled by the invitation, but the Harbinger had thought it odd for the Estates to be invited. The best she could think of was that the large northerners sought Shishiyan aid, and therefore sought out the City of Flames' in hopes that a tie with the Defenders of Shanadeer might see closer ties with the rest of Shishiyandom. Maya had been proposed as the optimal candidate, given the Suzerain's preoccupation with the lands north of Shanadeer, while Senator Aëtius worked to aid him. Maya had built some rapport with Boris' son Miqhail, and the hope was that such would ease in any discussions the two factions.

Finally, her guides led her to the church, the fox's lips pursing at the sight. Perhaps it had not occurred to the men of the north was kind of signal the idea of throwing a party in an abandoned church might send. But May let herself smile, knowing she was the face of the Estates here. Her red hair was done up, as style she thought more appropriate to the occasion*than how she normally wore it. However, there was no dress on the Alepoúsói, she was a soldier and dressed as one. She wore the tunic traditional of the Auxilia, complete with a cloak, her tail poking through the riding slit in the back. She was announced*and walked into the church, a smile on her face as she greeted her hosts.

Upon seeing Maya, Miqhail ran up to her, saying, "Maya! It has been a long time since we last met." He smiled at her, saying, "I seek to increase the peace between our peoples."

[woolli264]

"Yes, yes," Vistin said, "I should have fetched a drink for you first," Vistin said, blushing, before running off to grab a glass of wine for the Grand Knight.

As soon as the big mans back was turned Jacque slipped away. He might have felt bad for leaving the man behind if he weren't so terrified by him. It seemed implausible that such an intimidating giant could get to know a goblin well in Jacques mind but perhaps goblins in this country live longer and can therefore take longer to warm up to someone like him.
Jacque was still wondering why he was asked here and he realized that he should have asked the large man before scurrying off. With reluctance he returned to where he had been and said to Vistin, "I am sorry for leaving so suddenly, my eye was caught by a certain delicacy that I decided I must try. Anyways I was wondering if there was a deeper purpose to this event, aside from dancing and merriment."

[DimpleLoamsdown]

As soon as the big mans back was turned Jacque slipped away. He might have felt bad for leaving the man behind if he weren't so terrified by him. It seemed implausible that such an intimidating giant could get to know a goblin well in Jacques mind but perhaps goblins in this country live longer and can therefore take longer to warm up to someone like him.
Jacque was still wondering why he was asked here and he realized that he should have asked the large man before scurrying off. With reluctance he returned to where he had been and said to Vistin, "I am sorry for leaving so suddenly, my eye was caught by a certain delicacy that I decided I must try. Anyways I was wondering if there was a deeper purpose to this event, aside from dancing and merriment."

"I believe that my brother Miqhail wanted to create an alliance of sorts with the people of the Northern coast of Celessa, which includes Gobsfull, another nation invited to the ball, to which you have become an ally. Therefore, you were uniquely invited," Vistin said as he handed the goblin the glass of wine.

[Aedilred]

Ivan barely kept himself smiling as he saw the capturer of his father approaching. "G'day and welcome to you!" Ivan said, bowing to the Count.
"Thank you," Davit said, with a nod. He glanced around the room. "Are we to discuss terms for peace before or after the revelry?"


Ah, yes. Kin Markus has many friends. Speaking of friends, if I may have your leave Ishael, Ivan? I would like to speak to the both of you before the night is out, but first the Count and I must exchange words.Inclining his head to the both of them, Omesh catches the eye of the Count and nods towards the far wall of the church. If I may have a word, good Count?

My good Count, I am glad to finally meet a representative from your esteemed realm. Why, when Kin Markus learned of your Duke's skill and prowess...! Well, he was heartened to learn that others in this world were willing and able to resist the predations of the Butcher. Despite no one being close enough to hear their conversation, Omesh nevertheless lowered his voice.

Speaking of the Butcher... I have been briefed on all the conversations that took place between Duke Tomar and Kin Markus. I remember that there was mention of a certain package, to be delivered to Kin Markus. What is that status of said package? Know that your answer does not change the goodwill and friendship the Kin feels towards you and your Duke, but knowledge of it could be critical for negotiations later in the night.
"Indeed," Davit said, with a smile. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, fortune and Boris having pushed us into an unexpected friendship. This war may not have been of our making, but, thanks to the recklessness of the Butcher and the skills of Duke Tomar, it may yet be ours to conclude."

He nodded as Omesh spoke. "The package itself is currently in Duke Tomar's care, under heavy guard. My instructions are that if the Bearmen are willing to make peace on our terms, to demand a price from them of one thousand talents and monopoly rights on foreign trade for Medved fuel, with one of those trading posts transferred to your ownership if you so desire. That in addition to whatever peace terms are agreed. If they show no desire to make peace on reasonable terms, or refuse to pay, the package is to be delivered to you in exchange simply for a formal alliance and a considerably lesser sum in silver, gold, or credit, which I have discretion to negotiate."

OOC: a thousand talents is intended to be roughly equivalent to two or three years of the entire crown budget of a country like Medved. (This is actually relatively low by historic standards, but some of those are unbelievably high and would probably cause misunderstanding OOC). As implied, if transferred to Gleiss instead the payment requested would be much lower, probably only about fifty talents, as the Duke has no desire to cripple Gleiss's economy but would still like to make a profit, obviously. And of course it would have no mechanical effect either way.

[Lord of Monies]

The state of affairs in the north were a fractured matter of concern, aggression and defiance. Many an experimental gnome has soon learnt to think quickly but to act slowly in order to learn as much as they can and avoid disaster. Their longer lifespan suits this mentality and this is often taken into account when observing and judging the actions from those of other races. When one nation decides to act quickly and keep moving across the land with more speed it strongly suggests that not much thought or the wrong thought has been applied to such motion. It was Gleiss that had originally approached him with the prospect of an alliance to keep this ambition in check and the cabinet had agreed that King Markus was a man worthy of respect and friendship. Zhentanna's interest in such matters was unexpected but had also proven themselves to be a like-minded people of great interest that Hadrick knew would lead to great strides for them all.

To have not received an invitation to these talks of peace was then an insult to the Prime Minister. Had his people not placed a direct claim to the conflict by fighting alongside King Markus himself in battle? Did the people of Medved truly see and think so little of his people that they were not worth even a moment of consideration? Boris was not present and for that fact the Duke Tomar was due great respect for such a bold and decisive move. Hadrick hoped to find the man himself here if he deigned to personally attend, but there would not be a lack of developments here today if that were not the case.

The Prime Minister had arrived with his wife, Erina, dressed in their finest attire; he in a sharp plum-coloured waistcoat and suit and she complimenting nicely with a flowing maroon dress. They elected to arrive from the old town to gather an impression of the legacy that followed and fueld Medved. To see it was a burnt husk of a village seemed depressingly fitting. Whatever thought was guiding this nation was narrow and gave no time for the restoration of the domain they now held responsibility for. It was distasteful though he did wonder if it was for that reason that the ball was being held here. With this in mind and peace their goal, the ruling couple of Saralyn walked through the devastation with purpose and strength; a small stone to cause ripples and hopefully leave behind stillness as they arrived at the stone archways of the church.

As the Gnomes enter the venue, the Strongmen Zimin and his Highmen wife Dundniq approach the delegation, ready to start conversation with them.
"Welcome to the ball," Zimin said, smiling politely. "I hope that we can find peaceful resolutions to the conflict between our people and your allies," Zimin said, extending his hand to the gnomes.

Hadrick took the larger hand in his own while Erina looked over Zimin and Dudniq before doing the same. "Yes, perhaps we shall."

"You have chosen a fascinating venue. A very distinct backdrop to the proceedings." Erina added with a notably precise dialect. The small-talk was a practiced maneuver allowing her husband to scan their surroundings for those they had business with. After a moment to indulge the Strongman with his response, Hadrick had managed to spot the robed man from Gleiss attending on their behalf and took the next pause in conversation.

"I'm sure we will have much more to discuss later, but for now if you would excuse us." and with a brief nod, the two gracefully moved over to a quiet spot as they watched and waited for the Lord of the Rushing Falls to be free.



Approaching the couple when they are alone after his conversation with the Count, Omesh greets them with a deep bow and a smile. A pleasure to finally meet you, Prime Minister. I am First Minister Omesh, a servant to our mutual friend Kin Markus. He bid me to send you his deepest apologies, had you decided to attend tonight's ball; he wanted to meet you in person, but it was deemed too hazardous to come himself. Thus I was sent, to be his proxy. Pleasantries aside, however, I wanted to convey the friendship and gratitude Kin Markus and those of this court feel towards you and your people. Know that those of Ciriya and Gleiss aim to be your steadfast friends and allies.

Hadrick and Erina responded in kind to the respectable gentleman with a bow and smiled back. "I understand King Markus' concern for safety and find no fault with his decision. I look forward to a day we can meet without a thread-bound sword held above our heads. With that said, perhaps the younger generation of Medved leadership has the wisdom to avoid the turmoil that follows them cutting that thread."

"Hadrick, please." Erina chimed in with a small laugh, "There is time for talk and games once we have met with Zhentanna. Omesh, would you care to join us for a drink?

[QuintonBeck]

Ivan of Medved, younger brother of Miqhail and strongest brother of the family, approached Ishael. "G'day to you sir!" he said, smiling, "It is good to meet representative from your country for first time!" he stated, extending his hand with the intention of wringing the hand of Ishael. "How were your travels good sir? I notice that you have not brought a dancing partner with you. Would you like me to find one for you among the people of Qladbishshe?" he asked, pouring a drink for himself and for Ishael.

Ishael turned as Ivan approached him. He’d been in the middle of a bite into a slice of venison which he now tried to chew surreptitiously as the Bearman spoke. Hands of a mercantile bureaucrat Ivan’s grip overcame his own easily. He took the drink as Ivan offered it to him with some hesitation and answered slowly.

“I’m sorry good sir, who did you say you were?” Ishael asked somewhat wary of the aggressively inquisitive foreigner.

There had been some worry the Bearmen might attempt a brutal strike at this Ball against their enemies. Such was seen as unlikely but now Ishael felt a little nervous given the sudden intrusive line of questions. These thoughts were interrupted as Omesh approached.


Omesh Cantai Talaivar, Lord of the Rushing Falls, First Minister of War to the Kin of Ciriya, walked towards the village with a sense of dread. He had left behind his escort– a bare ten men, but all of them stout soldiers raised from his ancestral lands and loyal to the death– and was accompanied now only by his fellow diplomat, a short goblin man. Omesh had dressed for the occasion– black robes, with touches of gold embroidery, the traditional attire for his station. The only ornament was a small flower, worked in gold, upon the left breast, a concession to the home of the man he now served under.

Omesh was a cautious man, a result of experience gained serving under four of the Kin of Ciriya– though one was a weak fool, and he had done little yet in the service of the fourth. Perhaps, tonight, that would change. The Kin of Ciriya– the King of Gleiss, too, although that title mattered little to him– had chosen him to perform a crucial service in the name of the crown. As the First Minister of War, it was his duty to see to matters of peace as well. In times past, he had been called upon to broker truces between feuding lords, bring judgement upon dissidents within the realm, and to see that bloodshed and death were the final option. These were his duties, yes, but they did not explain why the Kin had elected to send him, rather than one of his more trusted men from his home. Perhaps it was a test of loyalty, or one of competence; perhaps, he laughed bitterly to himself, perhaps it is because he was disposable. Maybe the answer was all of the above.

Glancing aside– and taking in the sights of the burned and ruined village around them– his thoughts turned to his companion. An odious man, in his opinion, one who thought too much of himself and contained pride enough for five others. Still, the short goblin walking beside him– and hurrying his step to keep up with Omesh's long strides– held the ear of the Kin. The self-proclaimed baron had apparently done some sort of service for the Kin; whatever the reason was, the fact was that Baron Kadhir Gene could often be found in counsel with Kin Markus. The man wasn't totally devoid of sense, he supposed; he had donned a black doublet similar in style to his own, the proper dress for a man at war, though it contained far too much silver and gold workings for it to be proper. He had even covered his shameful baldness with a small, rounded hat, also in black.

As they arrived at the church, Omesh began to look for his allies that he was sure would be attending. Some, he knew, were behind him, and would arrive after; the delegates from Zhentanna, however, may very well have arrived before him. With no small amount of annoyance, he noticed the goblin baron slipping away from him as soon as they entered. Trust a goblin to abandon duty as soon as possible; why the baron of all people had been chosen to accompany him, he would likely never know. Seeing the representative from Zhentanna at the buffet, he schooled his face into a pleasant smile, and walked towards him. A brief flicker of annoyance crossed his face as he saw the Bearman reach Ishael before him, but he had resumed his smile before approaching the pair.

Greetings from Kin Markus, Ishael. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, a true pleasure, as Omesh extended his hand to the man. Glancing at the Bearman who had just introduced himself, And to you as well, good sir. Tell me your name, please? I am First Minister Omesh Cantai Talaivar– but please, call me Omesh.

“Omesh, a pleasure to meet you as well, Markus speaks highly of your wit," Ishael said taking the Minister's hand.



"I go by name of Ivan," Ivan said, extending his hand to shake Omesh's hand. "Welcome to the ball. I see that you have brought many guests with you," he said, smiling.

As the tall man introduced himself at last Ishael attempted to slide closer to Omesh and his entourage.


Count Davit Jaqeli made his way through the village, noting the various bloodstains splattered around the vicinity. It's been years, he thought, since the Bearmen took this place, and they have still not troubled to clean it, not even for the arrival of guests. Perhaps this was a clumsy attempt at intimidation, but if so it was having little effect - neither on him, nor, he suspected, his escort. Morale among the host of the Duke was sky-high at present, and the lords of the region had unanimously agreed to maintain his host for another season. His homeland was united as he had never known it, yet the coalition was still shaky, and both he and Tomar were aware of the desirability of agreeing peace before it fractured.

Upon arriving at his tent, the first thing he did was to order the banner of Guria taken down, and replaced by his own of Sarmagalo. While all were agreed Tomar was the man to lead the army, there was still muttering that this would place too much power in the hands of Guria, and the Duke might in time use his popularity and position to declare himself king. Better that Davit use his own insignia to conduct the negotiations, on behalf of them all, than be seen overmuch as the Duke's agent - although to all practical purposes he was.

His nose wrinkled slightly as he stepped into the church and saw that the ball was to be held here. While he couldn't off the top of his head think of any strictures against dancing in a church, it nevertheless seemed blasphemous. He wondered too what the Gleiss representatives would make of it - it wasn't their church, but he was used to the way Kunists viewed Shishiyans in his homeland - ostensible politeness with a slight, intangible hint of pity and contempt - and he suspected this would hardly help matters.

He spotted the Gleiss representative talking to a Bearman and someone with a southern appearance, and made his way over.

Davit is a middle-aged man dressed in a hip-length doublet with short breeches and hose, a black chaperon, and a fur-lined houppelande.


Ah, yes. Kin Markus has many friends. Speaking of friends, if I may have your leave Ishael, Ivan? I would like to speak to the both of you before the night is out, but first the Count and I must exchange words.Inclining his head to the both of them, Omesh catches the eye of the Count and nods towards the far wall of the church. If I may have a word, good Count?


"Of course Omesh," Ishael managed though his jaw was tight as he was left with the giant Ivan.

"Ivan, are you Ivan son of Boris?" Ishael asked recalling the names of Boris' children from what cursory inquiries had learned of Medved, "Do you know when your brother plans to discuss peace?"



Gleiss and Saralyn

Once Omesh and the Prime Minister had arrived Ishael disentangled himself from Ivan and approached his allies. They were near a bar where the Prime Minister's wife seemed to be enjoying a drink while Omesh and Hadrick talked.

"Greetings my friends, our hosts have a fascinating taste in decor do they not?" the southerner poured a new drink, having gone through his first in Ivan's company, "I think we're all clear on what's being asked for? The withdrawal of Medved troops from the western hinterland of Gleiss and the lands of Duke Tomar alongside a vow of peace from Medved for at least two decades?"

[Lord_Burch]

"Indeed," Davit said, with a smile. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, fortune and Boris having pushed us into an unexpected friendship. This war may not have been of our making, but, thanks to the recklessness of the Butcher and the skills of Duke Tomar, it may yet be ours to conclude."

He nodded as Omesh spoke. "The package itself is currently in Duke Tomar's care, under heavy guard. My instructions are that if the Bearmen are willing to make peace on our terms, to demand a price from them of one thousand talents and monopoly rights on foreign trade for Medved fuel, with one of those trading posts transferred to your ownership if you so desire. That in addition to whatever peace terms are agreed. If they show no desire to make peace on reasonable terms, or refuse to pay, the package is to be delivered to you in exchange simply for a formal alliance and a considerably lesser sum in silver, gold, or credit, which I have discretion to negotiate."

OOC: a thousand talents is intended to be roughly equivalent to two or three years of the entire crown budget of a country like Medved. (This is actually relatively low by historic standards, but some of those are unbelievably high and would probably cause misunderstanding OOC). As implied, if transferred to Gleiss instead the payment requested would be much lower, probably only about fifty talents, as the Duke has no desire to cripple Gleiss's economy but would still like to make a profit, obviously. And of course it would have no mechanical effect either way.
I am glad to hear the package is well, good Count. And we do so desire– though the control may instead be given to our good friends in Saralyn, who seek to expand their economic ventures abroad. As for us– we seek to drive the invaders from the western edge of Gleiss, a cessation of hostilities for at least 15 years, and to see your home protected from their predations. Now, I must find the Prime Minister and finalize plans with him soon; find us when negotiations begin, if it pleases you? We must present a unified front, after all.


Hadrick and Erina responded in kind to the respectable gentleman with a bow and smiled back. "I understand King Markus' concern for safety and find no fault with his decision. I look forward to a day we can meet without a thread-bound sword held above our heads. With that said, perhaps the younger generation of Medved leadership has the wisdom to avoid the turmoil that follows them cutting that thread."

"Hadrick, please." Erina chimed in with a small laugh, "There is time for talk and games once we have met with Zhentanna. Omesh, would you care to join us for a drink?






Gleiss and Saralyn

Once Omesh and the Prime Minister had arrived Ishael disentangled himself from Ivan and approached his allies. They were near a bar where the Prime Minister's wife seemed to be enjoying a drink while Omesh and Hadrick talked.

[COLOR="#4B0082"]"Greetings my friends, our hosts have a fascinating taste in decor do they not?" the southerner poured a new drink, having gone through his first in Ivan's company, "I think we're all clear on what's being asked for? The withdrawal of Medved troops from the western hinterland of Gleiss and the lands of Duke Tomar alongside a vow of peace from Medved for at least two decades?"
Ah, but I am afraid I cannot, my Lady. Ancient Ciriyan codes of war govern my actions tonight; among them being one that prohibits me from strong drink during a time of war, and another preventing me from accepting succor from an enemy. Terribly bothersome, I realize, but perhaps I can accept after a treaty is signed, yes? Omesh glanced at Ishael as he joined the group, his smile perhaps a touch less full than it had been for the Prime Minister. That is the gist of it, yes. Along with the demands the Count has to make for the return of the Butcher, of course. If we could step away from prying ears and eyes for a moment gentlemen, my Lady? I can convey to you those demands.

The Count seeks a cessation of hostilities, of course; a significant sum of silver and gold, and control over the trade of fuel coming out of Medved, all in exchange for the Butcher, whom the Duke currently holds. Should these demands not be met, the man will be sold to Kin Markus for a lesser sum of bullion, as well as a formal alliance. And while we are apart from the rest; I have been granted the right to extend certain privileges regarding the Shishiyan minorities in [53], should they become a factor in negotiations. Perhaps it will not be necessary, but it would be good to keep them in mind, should they become important.

[BootStrapTommy]

Upon seeing Maya, Miqhail ran up to her, saying, "Maya! It has been a long time since we last met." He smiled at her, saying, "I seek to increase the peace between our peoples."Maya bowed a bit a Miqhail, before flashing him a pleasant a familiar smile. She looked the much large man in the eyes.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miqhail. The Suzerain has sent me in his stead. I fear he is quite busy in matters related to the management of the Estate's demesnes, and thus could not make the time to attend. I thank you for your invitation on behalf of him and the Curia. I certainly hope that the peace between our two peoples can be strengthened."

[Rain Dragon]

The Grand Knight turned towards the Baron with a mouth full of food. A wide smile crossed his face and several morsels spilled onto the floor. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and said, "And to you! Who is this goblin that has the honour of increasing my enjoyment of this event tenfold?" This newcomer was not on the Gobsfull council but if he was an important official of another nation perhaps he should be.

Baron Khadir Gene could not help but to swell at the handsome praise. Me? he grinned widely as he tried his best to sound modest (and failed somewhat), "I am Baron Khadir Gene from the fair lands Ciriya of the Kingdom of Gleiss. A pleasure to meet you!" The Baron's grin grew as he spoke, clearly delighted to have been tasked with greeting fellow Goblins and representing the Kingdom.

OOC - Sorry to ask :smallredface: but is it obvious who the Baron's talking to or is it possible he's got the wrong goblin? =)

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Ishael turned as Ivan approached him. He’d been in the middle of a bite into a slice of venison which he now tried to chew surreptitiously as the Bearman spoke. Hands of a mercantile bureaucrat Ivan’s grip overcame his own easily. He took the drink as Ivan offered it to him with some hesitation and answered slowly.

“I’m sorry good sir, who did you say you were?” Ishael asked somewhat wary of the aggressively inquisitive foreigner.

There had been some worry the Bearmen might attempt a brutal strike at this Ball against their enemies. Such was seen as unlikely but now Ishael felt a little nervous given the sudden intrusive line of questions. These thoughts were interrupted as Omesh approached.

As the tall man introduced himself at last Ishael attempted to slide closer to Omesh and his entourage.


"Oh, pardon me," Ivan said, "My name is Ivan," Ivan began to blush, "I often accidentally forget to mention that to people. I am brother of Miqhail, and Prince of Land of Bearmen."


Hadrick took the larger hand in his own while Erina looked over Zimin and Dudniq before doing the same. "Yes, perhaps we shall."

"You have chosen a fascinating venue. A very distinct backdrop to the proceedings." Erina added with a notably precise dialect. The small-talk was a practiced maneuver allowing her husband to scan their surroundings for those they had business with. After a moment to indulge the Strongman with his response, Hadrick had managed to spot the robed man from Gleiss attending on their behalf and took the next pause in conversation.

"I'm sure we will have much more to discuss later, but for now if you would excuse us." and with a brief nod, the two gracefully moved over to a quiet spot as they watched and waited for the Lord of the Rushing Falls to be free.

"Ah yes, this is fine," Zimmin said, feeling a bit let down by his dismissal.


"Thank you," Davit said, with a nod. He glanced around the room. "Are we to discuss terms for peace before or after the revelry?"

"I believe that we are to discuss terms shortly, before the revelry commences," Ivan stated.


Maya bowed a bit a Miqhail, before flashing him a pleasant a familiar smile. She looked the much large man in the eyes.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miqhail. The Suzerain has sent me in his stead. I fear he is quite busy in matters related to the management of the Estate's demesnes, and thus could not make the time to attend. I thank you for your invitation on behalf of him and the Curia. I certainly hope that the peace between our two peoples can be strengthened."

Still smiling, Miqhail said, "Pardon me, it is time to begin discussions." After he said this, Miqhail bowed to Maya and signaled to the orchestra to play an announcement piece, informing the people in the hall to head over to the diplomacy table.

The Diplomacy

All nations are invited to participate in the discussions, which will follow a specific agenda, listed below.


The Province of Reash
The Battle of the North Coast (Gleiss and Bearmen)
The Battle of Seajumped and the Liberation of Boris.
Northern Sea Alliance and Trade Agreements
Shishiyanism and Kunism
Open Discussion


The brothers of Miqhail and there wives (where applicable) sit at one end of the discussion table, on either side of Miqhail, who is seated at the head of the table. As each guest takes their seat, servants bring them quills, parchment, and inkwells.

[Lord of Monies]

Ah, but I am afraid I cannot, my Lady. Ancient Ciriyan codes of war govern my actions tonight; among them being one that prohibits me from strong drink during a time of war, and another preventing me from accepting succor from an enemy. Terribly bothersome, I realize, but perhaps I can accept after a treaty is signed, yes? Omesh glanced at Ishael as he joined the group, his smile perhaps a touch less full than it had been for the Prime Minister. That is the gist of it, yes. Along with the demands the Count has to make for the return of the Butcher, of course. If we could step away from prying ears and eyes for a moment gentlemen, my Lady? I can convey to you those demands.

The Count seeks a cessation of hostilities, of course; a significant sum of silver and gold, and control over the trade of fuel coming out of Medved, all in exchange for the Butcher, whom the Duke currently holds. Should these demands not be met, the man will be sold to Kin Markus for a lesser sum of bullion, as well as a formal alliance. And while we are apart from the rest; I have been granted the right to extend certain privileges regarding the Shishiyan minorities in [53], should they become a factor in negotiations. Perhaps it will not be necessary, but it would be good to keep them in mind, should they become important.

"They are sure to haggle on the duration of cessation but if Duke Tomar is as shrewd as I am led to believe, then his pressure may well secure a twenty year period. I will see what resources Saralyn can spare to help the Duke monitor the borders should a returning Boris have ideas of ignoring a treaty. Perhaps if he has paid any attention to Sheol's recent history, appealing to the Shisiyans will grant us the Mahangar's favourable eye and deter Medved further."

[Aedilred]

The Diplomacy

All nations are invited to participate in the discussions, which will follow a specific agenda, listed below.


The Province of Reash
The Battle of the North Coast (Gleiss and Bearmen)
The Battle of Seajumped and the Liberation of Boris.
Northern Sea Alliance and Trade Agreements
Shishiyanism and Kunism
Open Discussion


The brothers of Miqhail and there wives (where applicable) sit at one end of the discussion table, on either side of Miqhail, who is seated at the head of the table. As each guest takes their seat, servants bring them quills, parchment, and inkwells.

Davit glanced down the agenda. It seemed their host was attempting to manipulate the peace talks to his advantage, discussing the settlement of the contested land first, before moving on to a re-hash of the battles themselves and the consequent military situation. If those were discussed first, it would be much harder for him to sustain any credible claim over the contested territory save that of temporary possession. But if that was his strategy, he suspected he was likely to be disappointed in the outcome. After all, the loose coalition of Gleiss, Saralyn and the Duke held the upper hand for the moment, and if they chose to walk away from the peace table it would be Medved who suffered.

He paused as his quill passed the third item, and he neatly underlined "liberation" and placed an interrogative next to it. That could be interesting. Item four seemed irrelevant to him, and he had to suppress a slight smile at the fifth, wondering what Miqhail hoped to agree in that part of the discussion that had not already been settled along with the territorial question.

Still, it was clear that Miqhail had an idea of what he wanted to talk about, so he might as well let him start. He pushed the parchments towards his accompanying scrivener and turned back to their host, waiting for him to begin.

[Lord_Burch]

"They are sure to haggle on the duration of cessation but if Duke Tomar is as shrewd as I am led to believe, then his pressure may well secure a twenty year period. I will see what resources Saralyn can spare to help the Duke monitor the borders should a returning Boris have ideas of ignoring a treaty. Perhaps if he has paid any attention to Sheol's recent history, appealing to the Shisiyans will grant us the Mahangar's favourable eye and deter Medved further."

It may not be the best idea to compare ourselves to Sheol. After all, the Sheolim were, in their minds, distant invaders with a paper-thin claim attacking far flung lands, close to the seat of their religion. But us? We seek to defend our borders, to protect our religious brethren. The Bearmen are the aggressors, here; in fact, I can even produce a letter– signed by Boris himself!– that states he seeks the submission of Gleiss to himself– to forge an Empire out of our ruins. Glancing up, Omesh turns his eye towards the gathering dignitaries. Unless you either of you have more to say in private, I suggest we adjourn to the table?


Still smiling, Miqhail said, "Pardon me, it is time to begin discussions." After he said this, Miqhail bowed to Maya and signaled to the orchestra to play an announcement piece, informing the people in the hall to head over to the diplomacy table.

The Diplomacy

All nations are invited to participate in the discussions, which will follow a specific agenda, listed below.


The Province of Reash
The Battle of the North Coast (Gleiss and Bearmen)
The Battle of Seajumped and the Liberation of Boris.
Northern Sea Alliance and Trade Agreements
Shishiyanism and Kunism
Open Discussion


The brothers of Miqhail and there wives (where applicable) sit at one end of the discussion table, on either side of Miqhail, who is seated at the head of the table. As each guest takes their seat, servants bring them quills, parchment, and inkwells.


Davit glanced down the agenda. It seemed their host was attempting to manipulate the peace talks to his advantage, discussing the settlement of the contested land first, before moving on to a re-hash of the battles themselves and the consequent military situation. If those were discussed first, it would be much harder for him to sustain any credible claim over the contested territory save that of temporary possession. But if that was his strategy, he suspected he was likely to be disappointed in the outcome. After all, the loose coalition of Gleiss, Saralyn and the Duke held the upper hand for the moment, and if they chose to walk away from the peace table it would be Medved who suffered.

He paused as his quill passed the third item, and he neatly underlined "liberation" and placed an interrogative next to it. That could be interesting. Item four seemed irrelevant to him, and he had to suppress a slight smile at the fifth, wondering what Miqhail hoped to agree in that part of the discussion that had not already been settled along with the territorial question.

Still, it was clear that Miqhail had an idea of what he wanted to talk about, so he might as well let him start. He pushed the parchments towards his accompanying scrivener and turned back to their host, waiting for him to begin.

Approaching the table, Omesh took a moment to clap Count Davit on the shoulder. Strength through unity, my good man. May peace favor us tonight. He sits to the Count's left, and takes a moment to read over the topics of discussion. The first through third struck him as clear cut; Gleiss and its allies held all the advantages on the field of battle. The fourth confused him, but he pegged it as an early attempt by Medved to secure hegemony over the northern coast and declare an empire. The fifth, of course, explained the role that the Phoenix Estates were to play; luckily, provisions were already in place. Finishing, he raised his voice, in order to be heard by all assembled. Our host! You are the one who has asked us here, in search of peace; it should fall on the supplicant to begin, no? Enlighten us on what you seek tonight, please.

[BootStrapTommy]

Still smiling, Miqhail said, "Pardon me, it is time to begin discussions." After he said this, Miqhail bowed to Maya and signaled to the orchestra to play an announcement piece, informing the people in the hall to head over to the diplomacy table.

The Diplomacy

All nations are invited to participate in the discussions, which will follow a specific agenda, listed below.


The Province of Reash
The Battle of the North Coast (Gleiss and Bearmen)
The Battle of Seajumped and the Liberation of Boris.
Northern Sea Alliance and Trade Agreements
Shishiyanism and Kunism
Open Discussion


The brothers of Miqhail and there wives (where applicable) sit at one end of the discussion table, on either side of Miqhail, who is seated at the head of the table. As each guest takes their seat, servants bring them quills, parchment, and inkwells.Maya pursed her lips a bit, uncertain as to how to take the interaction. She rpeceded to the tbale, taking her set and looking around the table, a bit apprehensive in not having come prepared to engage in diplomacy with quite so many othe partners, or to become involved in the affairs of the north. She studied the faces at the table with her studiously, doing her best to figure out the various member present. After she had, she looked down at the card infront of her and looked over the agenda. She bit her lip, uncertain how the Estate was to play a part in most of them, before bring her gaze back up to thiose present. She smiled pleasantly, not knowing what else to do. She was certain a time for the Estates voice to be heard would arise, though perhaps not anytime soon.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Maya pursed her lips a bit, uncertain as to how to take the interaction. She rpeceded to the tbale, taking her set and looking around the table, a bit apprehensive in not having come prepared to engage in diplomacy with quite so many othe partners, or to become involved in the affairs of the north. She studied the faces at the table with her studiously, doing her best to figure out the various member present. After she had, she looked down at the card infront of her and looked over the agenda. She bit her lip, uncertain how the Estate was to play a part in most of them, before bring her gaze back up to thiose present. She smiled pleasantly, not knowing what else to do. She was certain a time for the Estates voice to be heard would arise, though perhaps not anytime soon.


Approaching the table, Omesh took a moment to clap Count Davit on the shoulder. Strength through unity, my good man. May peace favor us tonight. He sits to the Count's left, and takes a moment to read over the topics of discussion. The first through third struck him as clear cut; Gleiss and its allies held all the advantages on the field of battle. The fourth confused him, but he pegged it as an early attempt by Medved to secure hegemony over the northern coast and declare an empire. The fifth, of course, explained the role that the Phoenix Estates were to play; luckily, provisions were already in place. Finishing, he raised his voice, in order to be heard by all assembled. Our host! You are the one who has asked us here, in search of peace; it should fall on the supplicant to begin, no? Enlighten us on what you seek tonight, please.


Davit glanced down the agenda. It seemed their host was attempting to manipulate the peace talks to his advantage, discussing the settlement of the contested land first, before moving on to a re-hash of the battles themselves and the consequent military situation. If those were discussed first, it would be much harder for him to sustain any credible claim over the contested territory save that of temporary possession. But if that was his strategy, he suspected he was likely to be disappointed in the outcome. After all, the loose coalition of Gleiss, Saralyn and the Duke held the upper hand for the moment, and if they chose to walk away from the peace table it would be Medved who suffered.

He paused as his quill passed the third item, and he neatly underlined "liberation" and placed an interrogative next to it. That could be interesting. Item four seemed irrelevant to him, and he had to suppress a slight smile at the fifth, wondering what Miqhail hoped to agree in that part of the discussion that had not already been settled along with the territorial question.

Still, it was clear that Miqhail had an idea of what he wanted to talk about, so he might as well let him start. He pushed the parchments towards his accompanying scrivener and turned back to their host, waiting for him to begin.

After giving his guests enough time to approach the table and read over the agenda, Miqhail stood up, so as to inform the guests that he was talking to them. "Good evening to you all!" he exclaimed, "I am very glad that you have all made it to Qladbishshe today for peace ball." He paused for a moment, to make sure that everyone was listening. "Many of you have noticed that first on agenda is discussion about fate of Reash. I do not intend to keep province under control of Bearmen, but I do not intend to give it up freely. I expect it to be sent as trade, as opposed to a gift. I might accept giving region to Gleiss in exchange for peace as well as small something else."

[woolli264]

Baron Khadir Gene could not help but to swell at the handsome praise. Me? he grinned widely as he tried his best to sound modest (and failed somewhat), "I am Baron Khadir Gene from the fair lands Ciriya of the Kingdom of Gleiss. A pleasure to meet you!" The Baron's grin grew as he spoke, clearly delighted to have been tasked with greeting fellow Goblins and representing the Kingdom.

OOC - Sorry to ask :smallredface: but is it obvious who the Baron's talking to or is it possible he's got the wrong goblin? =)

OOC He's got the right guy and it is clear that he does.

"And to you. Do you represent other goblins or has someone miraculously placed a goblin in a role of more general authority?" Jacque was happy to discover new goblin populations and even more thrilled to entertain the prospect of a high ranking goblin in human society for, to his knowledge, it had never been done before in the history of goblin kind.

[Lord_Burch]

After giving his guests enough time to approach the table and read over the agenda, Miqhail stood up, so as to inform the guests that he was talking to them. "Good evening to you all!" he exclaimed, "I am very glad that you have all made it to Qladbishshe today for peace ball." He paused for a moment, to make sure that everyone was listening. "Many of you have noticed that first on agenda is discussion about fate of Reash. I do not intend to keep province under control of Bearmen, but I do not intend to give it up freely. I expect it to be sent as trade, as opposed to a gift. I might accept giving region to Gleiss in exchange for peace as well as small something else."

Omesh's smile had steadily thinned into a hard line as Miqhail spoke, angry over the presumptuousness in his voice. As soon as he had finished speaking, Omesh stood, hands flat on the table, and began. You speak as if you come from a position of power, young heir. Tell me, what gives you that idea? Is it your inferior leadership, or is it your smaller armies? Perhaps because your leader lies captured in the hands of my allies. I have been sent to make peace, young heir; not to humiliate my Kin. Withdraw your troops from our eastern border, and we may entertain further talks. So long as the heart of Gleiss lies threatened, however, we will not bend.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Omesh's smile had steadily thinned into a hard line as Miqhail spoke, angry over the presumptuousness in his voice. As soon as he had finished speaking, Omesh stood, hands flat on the table, and began. You speak as if you come from a position of power, young heir. Tell me, what gives you that idea? Is it your inferior leadership, or is it your smaller armies? Perhaps because your leader lies captured in the hands of my allies. I have been sent to make peace, young heir; not to humiliate my Kin. Withdraw your troops from our eastern border, and we may entertain further talks. So long as the heart of Gleiss lies threatened, however, we will not bend.

Astonished by the outburst, Miqhail said, "I am removing my soldiers from Reash. I merely would like you to know that I am doing so as a form of trade, as opposed to just giving you the land that my own soldiers died to conquer." Miqhail sat down, so as to let the other people have a turn to speak at the table.

[QuintonBeck]

Ishael raised a hand to interject and to try and calm the rising tensions as Boris' heir played coy with his terms of surrender. Miqhail was young, new to the crown, and had the unfortunate circumstance of having only Boris the Butcher to model himself on as leader of his people. Ishael was confident he could be reasoned with if the situation was fully explained.

“Peace, please both of you. Let us remember our common cause in this. Peace."

"Lord Miqhail, Boris is in the hands of Duke Tomar, the peerless Bearman General Nozh lies sick and weak with fever, and your armies have been shrunken by the wars started by your father. Understand that Medved is weak now, so weak it might perish should your neighbors decide to indulge in violence over peace, but look now as they sit among you seeking prosperity for all and not merely themselves. Humility, Lord Miqhail, would do you well in these circumstances and it is with humility in mind that I ask what you desire from Gleiss for the orderly surrender of Reash to King Markus?”

It would perhaps be easier to meet the Bearman's request than to fight him over an unknown demand. Certainly Ishael would not ask Gleiss or Saralyn to supplicate themselves to Boris but Zhentanna had a history of taking on tasks other kingdoms found beneath them. However, even then there was a limit to Zhen mediating efforts and Miqhail's request would need to be reasonable.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Ishael raised a hand to interject and to try and calm the rising tensions as Boris' heir played coy with his terms of surrender. Miqhail was young, new to the crown, and had the unfortunate circumstance of having only Boris the Butcher to model himself on as leader of his people. Ishael was confident he could be reasoned with if the situation was fully explained.

“Peace, please both of you. Let us remember our common cause in this. Peace."

"Lord Miqhail, Boris is in the hands of Duke Tomar, the peerless Bearman General Nozh lies sick and weak with fever, and your armies have been shrunken by the wars started by your father. Understand that Medved is weak now, so weak it might perish should your neighbors decide to indulge in violence over peace, but look now as they sit among you seeking prosperity for all and not merely themselves. Humility, Lord Miqhail, would do you well in these circumstances and it is with humility in mind that I ask what you desire from Gleiss for the orderly surrender of Reash to King Markus?”

It would perhaps be easier to meet the Bearman's request than to fight him over an unknown demand. Certainly Ishael would not ask Gleiss or Saralyn to supplicate themselves to Boris but Zhentanna had a history of taking on tasks other kingdoms found beneath them. However, even then there was a limit to Zhen mediating efforts and Miqhail's request would need to be reasonable.

"If you ensured the liberation of my father and peace between our nations, I would freely give you control over Reash," Miqhail said, "This would also remove three items from our agenda."

[QuintonBeck]

"If you ensured the liberation of my father and peace between our nations, I would freely give you control over Reash," Miqhail said, "This would also remove three items from our agenda."

“That certainly seems reasonable. I am sure all involved would rest easier with an agreed to peace among neighbors,” Ishael turned to look towards Count Davit who he had not formally met, “No doubt Duke Tomar desires a ransom for Boris? Perhaps we should discuss that price? If it means peace Zhentanna would be willing to aid in whatever price is set,” he turned back to Miqhail, “but only if Boris remains uncrowned. Your father started these wars and while I do begrudge him his life I certainly do begrudge his rule."

"You seem an intelligent and reasonable man Miqhail, would you consider maintaining rule in Medved and removing Boris's legal claim for Zhen financial aid in recovering him?”

[Aedilred]

Davit nodded as Ishael spoke. "Although the interests of my people and Gleiss align on this matter so far as securing peace goes, I think it is worth reiterating that Boris remains in the Duke's custody, and the Duke is subject to no temporal authority save his own. While we would welcome the transfer of control over the Reash to Gleiss, that has no direct bearing on Boris's person.

"Prince Miqhail, you talk of the 'liberation' of Boris as though he had been kidnapped and imprisoned by some outlaw. Let me remind you that he brought an army into our lands with no justification but his own landlust and desire for bloodshed, was defeated in battle and surrendered. His captivity, unlike his invasion, is perfectly legal. We are of course willing to repatriate him but, in accordance with the norms of warfare, only on payment of an appropriate ransom. That ransom has been valued at one thousand silver talents, and exclusive trading rights for the remaining fuel in Medved."

[DimpleLoamsdown]

“That certainly seems reasonable. I am sure all involved would rest easier with an agreed to peace among neighbors,” Ishael turned to look towards Count Davit who he had not formally met, “No doubt Duke Tomar desires a ransom for Boris? Perhaps we should discuss that price? If it means peace Zhentanna would be willing to aid in whatever price is set,” he turned back to Miqhail, “but only if Boris remains uncrowned. Your father started these wars and while I do begrudge him his life I certainly do begrudge his rule."

"You seem an intelligent and reasonable man Miqhail, would you consider maintaining rule in Medved and removing Boris's legal claim for Zhen financial aid in recovering him?”

"I cannot ensure that Boris remains uncrowned, though if he returns to power, he will operate solely under my direction." Miqhail hoped that his request would be reasonable enough, permitting Boris to develop the technologies that he had been so determined to make while crowned.


Davit nodded as Ishael spoke. "Although the interests of my people and Gleiss align on this matter so far as securing peace goes, I think it is worth reiterating that Boris remains in the Duke's custody, and the Duke is subject to no temporal authority save his own. While we would welcome the transfer of control over the Reash to Gleiss, that has no direct bearing on Boris's person.

"Prince Miqhail, you talk of the 'liberation' of Boris as though he had been kidnapped and imprisoned by some outlaw. Let me remind you that he brought an army into our lands with no justification but his own landlust and desire for bloodshed, was defeated in battle and surrendered. His captivity, unlike his invasion, is perfectly legal. We are of course willing to repatriate him but, in accordance with the norms of warfare, only on payment of an appropriate ransom. That ransom has been valued at one thousand silver talents, and exclusive trading rights for the remaining fuel in Medved."

Not wanting to cause too much further arguments, Miqhail said, "This price seems reasonable. I will give you express permission to purchase the net production of the Benediqtov’s Sharqoal Qompany and of the Peat Bog family, if you can reason with them sufficiently, that is."

Zimin made note of the dealings on his parchment paper.

[Lord of Monies]

"I cannot ensure that Boris remains uncrowned, though if he returns to power, he will operate solely under my direction." Miqhail hoped that his request would be reasonable enough, permitting Boris to develop the technologies that he had been so determined to make while crowned.



Not wanting to cause too much further arguments, Miqhail said, "This price seems reasonable. I will give you express permission to purchase the net production of the Benediqtov’s Sharqoal Qompany and of the Peat Bog family, if you can reason with them sufficiently, that is."

Zimin made note of the dealings on his parchment paper.

Hadrick had spent over a decade in his position as Prime Minister and longer still before that working his way through the political hallways and cobwebs. By now he was very familiar with someone hiding behind words and using appeasement to allow loopholes. For that Miqhail may prove to be an apt and shrewd ruler that might at least earn Hadrick's respect, however they were not friends and these tactics would not be entertained.

"Miqhail, you speak graciously but offer us uncertainties." He spoke slowly, deliberately and attention fixed upon the young ruler. "Should Boris be returned to his seat of power, what assurances do we truly have that he will not resume his conquest? We require of Medved a guarantee. A written treaty that promises the complete cessation of hostilities towards the nations represented here for the next two decades, as well as a maximum limit of three regiments occupying any region along our borders for that time. Failure to comply will result in monetary penalties to be paid to the victim of any such transgression and will not dissolve the treaty of its validity. Would you sign such a treaty?"

Hadrick held firm in his resolution but also turned to regard his allies Omesh, Ishael and Davit as the relevant parties. It was a hard play but it would serve in testing young Miqhail's own resolve and reason.

[Lord_Burch]

"If you ensured the liberation of my father and peace between our nations, I would freely give you control over Reash," Miqhail said, "This would also remove three items from our agenda."


Hadrick had spent over a decade in his position as Prime Minister and longer still before that working his way through the political hallways and cobwebs. By now he was very familiar with someone hiding behind words and using appeasement to allow loopholes. For that Miqhail may prove to be an apt and shrewd ruler that might at least earn Hadrick's respect, however they were not friends and these tactics would not be entertained.

"Miqhail, you speak graciously but offer us uncertainties." He spoke slowly, deliberately and attention fixed upon the young ruler. "Should Boris be returned to his seat of power, what assurances do we truly have that he will not resume his conquest? We require of Medved a guarantee. A written treaty that promises the complete cessation of hostilities towards the nations represented here for the next two decades, as well as a maximum limit of three regiments occupying any region along our borders for that time. Failure to comply will result in monetary penalties to be paid to the victim of any such transgression and will not dissolve the treaty of its validity. Would you sign such a treaty?"

Hadrick held firm in his resolution but also turned to regard his allies Omesh, Ishael and Davit as the relevant parties. It was a hard play but it would serve in testing young Miqhail's own resolve and reason.

As my allies have said, we do not have Boris in our custody. Though I question the wisdom in letting Boris free with no assurances from you, such is not my decision. As for Reash, name another price, and perhaps it will be met. Know that we will not back down, however. If no agreement is made, the armies of Gleiss will not relent.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Hadrick had spent over a decade in his position as Prime Minister and longer still before that working his way through the political hallways and cobwebs. By now he was very familiar with someone hiding behind words and using appeasement to allow loopholes. For that Miqhail may prove to be an apt and shrewd ruler that might at least earn Hadrick's respect, however they were not friends and these tactics would not be entertained.

"Miqhail, you speak graciously but offer us uncertainties." He spoke slowly, deliberately and attention fixed upon the young ruler. "Should Boris be returned to his seat of power, what assurances do we truly have that he will not resume his conquest? We require of Medved a guarantee. A written treaty that promises the complete cessation of hostilities towards the nations represented here for the next two decades, as well as a maximum limit of three regiments occupying any region along our borders for that time. Failure to comply will result in monetary penalties to be paid to the victim of any such transgression and will not dissolve the treaty of its validity. Would you sign such a treaty?"

Hadrick held firm in his resolution but also turned to regard his allies Omesh, Ishael and Davit as the relevant parties. It was a hard play but it would serve in testing young Miqhail's own resolve and reason.

"I would sign such a treaty, if I were permitted to keep up to four units in my capital region of Medved." Miqhail knew that he currently controlled seven units of soldiers and did not want to be required to disband one of them. "Might I also request that after a decade and a half or if my borders are invaded by an external force, I will be permitted have more soldiers trained."

Zimmin took more notes of these exchanges, as Vlad began writing a sample treaty with his quill.

Miqhail stopped talking for a moment, thinking, before saying, "Within this treaty, could we include a universal defense system for all who are here, or who are permitted to join the treaty."


As my allies have said, we do not have Boris in our custody. Though I question the wisdom in letting Boris free with no assurances from you, such is not my decision. As for Reash, name another price, and perhaps it will be met. Know that we will not back down, however. If no agreement is made, the armies of Gleiss will not relent.

"Would express permission to buyout and maintain the buyout of one of the trade posts of Reash be a valid exchange?" Miqhail asked.

[Lord_Burch]

"I would sign such a treaty, if I were permitted to keep up to four units in my capital region of Medved." Miqhail knew that he currently controlled seven units of soldiers and did not want to be required to disband one of them. "Might I also request that after a decade and a half or if my borders are invaded by an external force, I will be permitted have more soldiers trained."

Zimmin took more notes of these exchanges, as Vlad began writing a sample treaty with his quill.

Miqhail stopped talking for a moment, thinking, before saying, "Within this treaty, could we include a universal defense system for all who are here, or who are permitted to join the treaty."



"Would express permission to buyout and maintain the buyout of one of the trade posts of Reash be a valid exchange?" Miqhail asked.

Such a compromise is reasonable. Furthermore, Gleiss will guarantee the defense of Medved for this period, so long as our nations remain at peace. As for the province– such a price is reasonable. We will accept.

[woolli264]

Throughout the proceedings Jacque step-danced vigorously.

[DimpleLoamsdown]

Miqhail looked around at his weary guests, their faces growing bored of the talks. He said, "We can discuss anything else on the agenda on a later date and formalize treaty within the next few years."
He waited for his companions to finish writing, before exclaiming, "Lets Dance!"

The rest of the night was spent dancing, eating and chatting. During this time upbeat dancing music was played for everyone. The most important event of the night was when Miqhail asked Maya to marry him.

At the end of the festivities, everyone is invited to stay in Qladbishshe for the next couple of weeks, to discuss politics, or watch as Qladbishshe evolves.