Taboo-Breaker's Council

[Potato_Priest]

"Perhaps a sort of poetic justice," Rosie MacGill commented to her steward as she looked out across the green waters of the Sur, bathed in the moonlight."Mollie MacGill started her reign of terror with nought but a small crew of Luthrail and partisan bandits..." She glanced back over her shoulder at her guards, two burly luthrails and a partisan of house MacFen, what armor they wore chewed or nonexistent, and armed with makeshift spears and luthrail staves, "And now perhaps I shall end my reign with the same."

"Well, signal the foreigners ta come. The Bel-Dan expect their pay, and perhaps some of the blight-fighting zeal of the Blemmyae council still lives."

Her steward, a younger dwarf woman, lit her torch and touched it to the palm wood pyre set on the banks of the Sur, as the agreed upon invitation for foreigners to council with the remains of the Anbroch.

Spoiler: Setting

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The muddy banks of the Sur, a couple hours after sundown. A large wooden pyre signals delegates to approach. A small company of Luthrail and Anbroch guards are in attendance, though obviously worn ragged from the fighting, and many Luthrail and dwarven slaves stand on the shore near to ships modeled after the Bel-Dan's canoes, bound in chains and surrounded by more guards, perhaps to protect them from the possibility of shadow attack as much as keep them from escaping.

The council is being held on the banks of the sur because there were comparatively few Dwarves there when the shadows attacked thanks to the ancient taboo, and it is an easy place for most foreigners to access without traveling through the infested jungles.

[Gaius Hermicus]

In the light of the flaming pyre, the approaching horde of blemmyae appeared ghostly, lithe black shadows approaching slowly and ominously. They carried no weapons, but the wildness in their eyes and their long, sharp teeth made that less of a relief than it should have been.

At their head walked a tall and proud blemmyae, naked except for a sheepskin kilt around their waist and a rawhide belt, studded with thousands of teeth: human, hyena, crocodile, blemmyae, and those belonging to stranger beasts. The emissary bore no weapons, but over one arm was slung a robe of brightly colored feathers and crowned with beads of solid gold. It was to Rosie MacGill that they presented this robe, blinking in respect.

Warlady MacGill of the Anbroch. A great honor to meet you, it is. I am called Ekaniy Kw'Adeni, the true king of the Korebita Foothills. This robe is a gift to you. I took it from that foppish diplomat, who perhaps you have met? Any king who surrounds themself with such pathetic advisors has no right to power. You have caused much trouble for the imposter who sits the throne in Kema, and for that I must give you my thanks.

[Potato_Priest]

The warlady draped the cloak over her arm as her guards stared at it. Such finery seemed somehow wrong at a time of such desperation and strife in Kincany. She pensively stood for a moment with her eyes glowing in the firelight, wondering how much time this cloak might buy her with the Bel-Dan pirates. Perhaps she would see when they arrived, but for now it would not do to displease this generous guest.

"I am not sure what trouble I've caused for Huleten apart from staying alive a bit longer than he would have liked, but I appreciate yer presence and the gift, King Ekaniy. I'm afraid you've come ta Kincany at an awkward time and taken me by surprise, so I'll apologize for the shoddy surroundings."- She gestured to the mud on the riverbank they stood on- "But I'd wager ye didn't come all this way just ta stand in the mud and shower me with riches." It wasn't a question, but a wink of one of her glowing eyes indicated that she expected a response.

[Minescratcher]

The sails of the Bel-Dan-Ub were invisible against the dark night sky until they drew close to shore, the double hulls of the canoes slicing through the reflection of the great pyre on the dark waters. The ships slid onto the muddy riverbanks with a soft noise, followed by the splat of feet jumping down from the craft. A torch flared to life, illuminating a Bel-Dan man wearing thick cloth armor over his whole body and a black hat with three feathers, holding the torch in one hand and a long stone spear in the other. As he approached the pyre, the greater light revealed two women beside him: one fairly tall for a Bel-Dan, dressed in a leather skirt and jacket and apparently unarmed; the other short and stocky, with an armory of knives and axes hanging from her belt above her skirt.

"The Sea cheers our victory this night, Rosie!" hailed the tall woman. "I am sorry we could not come to the fighting, but our armies fought well. I am Reren-Cha-Jelě, and these are - "

"Reren-Nal-Fě," said the man in a low, deep voice.

"Reren-Sel-Lěra," added the other woman. "You have your tribute here?"

More Bel-Dan-Ub were filtering into the circle of firelight, most of them seemingly there to help carry and load the expected treasure onto the canoes.

[Potato_Priest]

"Aye, there it is-" Rosie gestured toward the mass of dwarf and luthrail slaves standing on the shore, "About the only thing I could find of value in these dark times, but I take it that will suffice?"

[Corona]

A palanquin surrounded by a good number of guards approaches the pyre at a steady pace. This time, some elves wear hempen trousers, shirts and the like, in the fashion of the humans that are under their rule, an indication of the rise in trade within the borders of the large nation. However, this time the warriors are not so carefree in walking into the event. The menacing air of Blight and blood makes them watchful. A lady with long, flowing dark hair, dressed in an elaborate blue dress with golden embroidery, peeks out and stops the palanquin. She gracefully steps out with a smile on her face.

"Vefis, Matriarch Rosie, I am relieved to see you uninjured in these trying times.", she intones. "Though I believe we have not met, I have heard of your impressive determination to fight for what you deem right. I am Dasrtali of the Sirrvadut, and lest it be said that there is no love lost between the elves and dwarves, I will leave here twenty of the men in my entourage to aid you in your battles, and also the asses they are leading, loaded with the best pottery our kilns can produce - I understand you may not be able to find an use for those right now, but perhaps you could exchange them for weapons and the like." Dasrtali gently waves over the warriors to be gifted, and continues:

"The Sirrvadut will always stand against the Blightspawn, and those who lead them to our homes - both of them sure to be tools of vengeful gods. We must persevere and stand tall next to our siblings, cousins and honored ancestors." It was not a mistake that Dasrtali referenced Abiherist beliefs; although they were certainly popular in Kincany, she wanted to probe into MacGill's personal feelings on the matter.

[Minescratcher]

"Aye, there it is-" Rosie gestured toward the mass of dwarf and luthrail slaves standing on the shore, "About the only thing I could find of value in these dark times, but I take it that will suffice?"

Reren-Nal-Fě grinned. "These will do fine, I think," he said. The women nodded, and he began shouting orders to the pirates, herding the slaves back to the Bel-Dan ships.

"These should buy, oh, another eight years or so," added Reren-Sel-Lěra, chuckling. "Well, how goes the governing? Any news of the Shadows? My sailors seem to think they've all disappeared."

[Gaius Hermicus]

The warlady draped the cloak over her arm as her guards stared at it. Such finery seemed somehow wrong at a time of such desperation and strife in Kincany. She pensively stood for a moment with her eyes glowing in the firelight, wondering how much time this cloak might buy her with the Bel-Dan pirates. Perhaps she would see when they arrived, but for now it would not do to displease this generous guest.

"I am not sure what trouble I've caused for Huleten apart from staying alive a bit longer than he would have liked, but I appreciate yer presence and the gift, King Ekaniy. I'm afraid you've come ta Kincany at an awkward time and taken me by surprise, so I'll apologize for the shoddy surroundings."- She gestured to the mud on the riverbank they stood on- "But I'd wager ye didn't come all this way just ta stand in the mud and shower me with riches." It wasn't a question, but a wink of one of her glowing eyes indicated that she expected a response.

You are right indeed, Warlady MacGill. There are going to be some changes in the Korebita soon. Some things are going to happen to upset the tyrant's family line. And, perhaps within two years from now, I will sit the throne in Kema. Should that happen, I will need friends, foreign allies to cement my control. I hope to make alliances with those who share my discontent with Huleten and their cruel regime.

[Potato_Priest]

Reren-Nal-Fě grinned. "These will do fine, I think," he said. The women nodded, and he began shouting orders to the pirates, herding the slaves back to the Bel-Dan ships.

"These should buy, oh, another eight years or so," added Reren-Sel-Lěra, chuckling. "Well, how goes the governing? Any news of the Shadows? My sailors seem to think they've all disappeared."

"Not as such, no, though I'm confident they're still here, perhaps depleted in numbers. If they had headed north into your lands, I can assure ye that ye would know it. Perhaps by some miracle we managed to kill enough of the blighters in the civil war ta make a difference, but we'll hopefully know for sure soon, as the Bannanda sentinel lass is looking into it.

I notice Ren-Cha-Fen isn't joining ye. Is he well? I tried ta have him treated with the full hospitality due a bargaining chip during his time with us."

A palanquin surrounded by a good number of guards approaches the pyre at a steady pace. This time, some elves wear hempen trousers, shirts and the like, in the fashion of the humans that are under their rule, an indication of the rise in trade within the borders of the large nation. However, this time the warriors are not so carefree in walking into the event. The menacing air of Blight and blood makes them watchful. A lady with long, flowing dark hair, dressed in an elaborate blue dress with golden embroidery, peeks out and stops the palanquin. She gracefully steps out with a smile on her face.

"Vefis, Matriarch Rosie, I am relieved to see you uninjured in these trying times.", she intones. "Though I believe we have not met, I have heard of your impressive determination to fight for what you deem right. I am Dasrtali of the Sirrvadut, and lest it be said that there is no love lost between the elves and dwarves, I will leave here twenty of the men in my entourage to aid you in your battles, and also the asses they are leading, loaded with the best pottery our kilns can produce - I understand you may not be able to find an use for those right now, but perhaps you could exchange them for weapons and the like." Dasrtali gently waves over the warriors to be gifted, and continues:

"The Sirrvadut will always stand against the Blightspawn, and those who lead them to our homes - both of them sure to be tools of vengeful gods. We must persevere and stand tall next to our siblings, cousins and honored ancestors." It was not a mistake that Dasrtali referenced Abiherist beliefs; although they were certainly popular in Kincany, she wanted to probe into MacGill's personal feelings on the matter.

Roeis's guards eyed the donkeys hungrily, perhaps focused on the animals more than the pots.
"Ye honor me, Dasrtali, twenty elf warriors is a finer gift than I have any right ta expect, and spare pots and meat ta serve in them are never amiss with an army ta feed.

As for stanging tall, well ye might be aware that's not exactly our specialty," she winked and swept a hand over her head to illustrate the pun, "But of course I'll do what I can ta combat the blight now that the civil war is over."

You are right indeed, Warlady MacGill. There are going to be some changes in the Korebita soon. Some things are going to happen to upset the tyrant's family line. And, perhaps within two years from now, I will sit the throne in Kema. Should that happen, I will need friends, foreign allies to cement my control. I hope to make alliances with those who share my discontent with Huleten and their cruel regime.

Well, he certainly had the subtlety to be an ally of the Anbroch. Rosie furrowed her brow,
"Well, I am no friend of Huleten's reign, and I would of course be glad ta have a friend on the throne in Kema..."
She paused, and made eye contact with the Blemmyae king,
"But are ye sure ye want ta do this? Civil war is nothing ta joke about, as I could tell ye from personal experience. I don't know which way ye had ta walk ta get here, but if ye came through Kincany ye must have passed by the abandoned hold of one house or another. Ye've got ta have a damn solid plan ta risk letting your own people suffer such a fate."

[Corona]

Spoiler: Rosie

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Roeis's guards eyed the donkeys hungrily, perhaps focused on the animals more than the pots.
"Ye honor me, Dasrtali, twenty elf warriors is a finer gift than I have any right ta expect, and spare pots and meat ta serve in them are never amiss with an army ta feed.

As for stanging tall, well ye might be aware that's not exactly our specialty," she winked and swept a hand over her head to illustrate the pun, "But of course I'll do what I can ta combat the blight now that the civil war is over."

Dasrtali politely covers her giggle with her long drooping sleeve as the dwarves stare at the animals, but moments later a fierce spark flashes across her eyes as if she remembered something infuriating. "Thank you. Some," - she gestures downstream - "however, act on their desires without giving a second thought to the repercussions for others. It seems like they will take every inch of soil and every soul they can, if you let them."

She stares up at the stars for a while. "They're already at the borders of Kincany, now that I think about it? We did have to take a detour for our safety..."

[Gaius Hermicus]

Oh, Rosie... Ekaniy smirks. Have no fear. A civil war such as you have had here would never happen in the Korebita. The blemmyae are no Anbroch, to fight senselessly and without end. With an adequate display of power and evidence of my deserving nature, they will bend to my will. The only things preventing this coup, as it stands, are the lives of the King of Kings and their heir. All I must do is wait, and the situation will resolve itself.