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Kingdoms of Legend

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Turn 4: Ambitions Grow
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    • Ulfyre

    194 A.E.








    ​

    In the beginning, when the creator made the world and all its inhabitants from his own body, his creation drew to him others from the nameless place. And these great spirits did see the creator's work and were inspired and filled with great feeling and wonder. And they begged the creator that they might join in, and it was allowed. So together the creator and the spirits fashioned everything and raised the boundaries of the world and put everything in its proper place. And they measured and grew and shaped until there was harmony and discord in equal measure; a perfect cycle that would grow in ways the nameless place could not. And so the creator and spirits gazed over their finished works, and all were pleased. But the creator saw that though beautiful and worthy, it was not wholly theirs. And the creator departed their work, to go and make something that was.

    To the spirits, he left their shared creation, and all the new life that now dwelled upon in. And it was to the spirits that the fate of the world and all who grew from it was entrusted. It would be they that would decide its fate. And among these great beings was one known as Eoin. And the spirit looked over the newly created races, those of life, and the earth, and the mortals who were favored but short-lived, and felt within their heart a great love for these peoples.

    And so Eoin gathered many of the tribes and bid them follow the spirit to a land it had made for them. And Eoin loved them and promised them proof of that love in the form of many gifts and teachings. And Eoin asked the children of creation that for the spirit's love, they show it love three times in return. Three occasions when Eoin would ask them to give from their hearts as the spirit had given to them.

    And the children of creation agreed.

    Eoin led them to a land, though not all made it. Some tribes broke away and wandered to the east, others west, some north, some south. But many followed Eoin to the paradise the spirit had fashioned. And when they reached its boundaries it was named Aeya, and they settled wherever they wished, for there was room and bounty for all.

    And true to Eoin's word the spirit did show them love. To the children of life Eoin showed the cultivation of all things, whether flower, song, or beauty. And to the children of the earth Eoin taught the workings of the bones of creation and the beauty of its blood. And to the mortals, Eoin gave many things as well, from knowledge of the secret arts to the laws of their creator.

    Thus was the land of Aeya blessed by the love of a spirit for its children. The children of life grew great forests and works of wonder, and the children of the earth dug deep and fashioned much. And the mortals delved ever deeper into the knowledge and path of their creator and creation. Even the monster tribes, shunned for their mixed blood, were invited into Aeya and given small places to call home.

    And Eoin looked over all that was prospering in the land of Aeya and asked for its first gift of love. Eoin asked that the children of creation enjoy all that they had received, and pause in their labors to gain more. But the children of life wished to grow ever-more forests and wonders, and the children of the earth desired ever-deeper tunnels and the fruits of their craft. And the mortals continued to study the higher arts and uncover more and more the workings of creation.

    And thus was Eion's request ignored, and no gift of love given to the spirit the first time they asked. Save the monster tribes, who stayed within their bounds and dark places as they had been asked.

    But Eion was gracious and forgiving, and nothing could temper their love, so the spirit said nothing, and Aeya continued to grow and prosper. And it came in time that the kingdoms that sprang forth from paradise looked beyond their borders, for their needs and desires were many, and they began to take from the surroundings lands goods and people and whatever else was needed. And the great spirits, the kin of Eion, saw the plunder of the lands outside Aeya and thought it wicked. But the angriest was the sea mother, whose children those of Aeya had taken and bound in chains like beasts.

    So Eion asked for the second gift of love from the mortals. The spirit asked that they be satisfied with their borders and the gifts they had received, and to not to takes the children of other lands and bind them in iron and drive them with whips. The kingdoms of Aeya promised Eion they would do so, but continued in their ways instead.

    And thus was Eion's second request ignored, and no gift of love was given to the spirit.

    In time it came that so great and mighty were the kingdoms of Aeya that their reach spread across the nine-lands, and anything of value was taken and brought back within their borders. This included the ocean, and the sea mother grew enraged. She declared that she would lay low the lands of Aeya, a life for every one taken from her waters. But Eion intervened, asking that the sea mother spare its children, and instead take the spirit itself as payment. And the sea mother agreed.

    So Eion asked their last gift from the kingdoms of Aeya. It asked that after the spirit's death they remember its first two requests, and honor them. And then the sea mother killed Eion, satisfying her anger. But the kingdoms of Aeya mourned and raged against the sea mother for slaying Eion, and they declared war on her and all her children.

    And thus was Eion's third and final request ignored, and no gift of love was ever given to the spirit.

    -Song of Sea and Sorrow, Ch. 3 Verse 1-35






    @I just write

    (1) Sorceress of the Riverlands

    Bellonie's Action


    Veranca the scholar walked with a confused expression through the halls of Lady Fay. He was accompanied by Bellonie, the iron maiden servant of the Sorceress. Neither spoke, the echoes of the houseservants activities echoing around them.

    "I..." the scholar said. "I don't understand..."

    "Hm?" Bellonie said, continuing to float down the hall next to him.

    "Your master...Lady Fay...I...she is not like I expected. The necromancers of the Lehvant were supposed to be...terrible monsters..."

    Bellonie chuckled. It was a metallic, hollow sound. "Like your Hassid, yes?"

    "Rumors started by our enemies..." Veranca muttered with a scowl.

    "No...no I don't think they are rumors scholar. But no matter. You are indeed correct that Lady Fay is not like the necromancers of the past. If you are searching for those, there is one in the western marshes who will be to your liking. But Lady Fay is the last true heir of the Welh, so she is a truer daughter of the late kingdom than any other may claim. More than that, she is everything they did not want her to be. Kind, noble, just."

    "Ambitious," the scholar added.

    Bellonie's iron face smiled. "Yes...that the Welh masters did want, and she has it. But she walks a path they never dreamed of."

    "And you? Why does one such as you follow? Begging the pardon of the question of course..."

    Isov's Action

    The pair were interrupted as Isov entered the hall in the company of several undead maidens. Bellonie floated to a stop, nodding her iron head in greeting. "Isov."

    "Bellonie," the wanderer said, brushing off the mud flecks on his stylish coat.

    "How goes the fields?"

    Isov passed a parchment he held to one of his maidens. "Well, I'm digging irrigation canals as we speak, so a few weeks and it will done. And you? How goes it with the scholars and the school?"

    "I was just answering for our guest why I serve such a sorceress as Lady Fay. I think he mistakes me for some vengeful spirit."

    "Bellonie is a vengeful spirit," Isov said to the scholar. "More so than you could possibly understand. But to answer your question, we serve Lady Fay because she is the true heir of the Wehl, and she has called us to serve."

    "So...good or evil," the scholar said. "You would serve her?"

    Bellonie and Isov shared a look. "Perhaps," the iron maiden said. "But as she is now, we will gladly give her our lives and everything in our power for her to succeed."

    "She is more than our master," Isov said, nodding. "And we wish for the same thing as she."

    "So," Bellonie said, nudging the scholar. "Why don't you get to work already..."

    "Right!" Verenca said. "I'll start right away...."




    @JbeJ275
    (2) The Elf Lord of the East

    Tamric's Action

    Tamric kneeled on a branch high in a tree. The wind swept by him, waving the winter elf's long, silvery hair. He brushed it aside, his gaze fixed on the clearing below. The mighty Kline River swept past with fast but calm waters. Along its banks were wooden huts, docks, and towers. Men with spears and bows loaded river ships, while the echoes of hammer and nail announced more ships were being built under great wooden awnings. Tamic tilted his head slightly, singling out a man in a tower near his tree. 100 yards, by the elf's estimate. And he was never wrong.

    Tamric raised his bow and fitting an arrow to the string. His expression was calm, almost bored, and his eyes seemed distant. His thoughts were here and there, never quite settling on anything. The elf felt the world around him, sensed the breathing of the trees, heard the shouts of the river pirates, smelled life and death and everything between. Tamric was nothing, and outside him was everything. He drew back the string and released it with a smooth motion, almost like an afterthought. The arrow sank into the man in the tower. He was dead before he fell from it. Shouts rose up. Men with weapons began running.

    Tamric opened his mouth slightly, tasting the air. There would be rain soon. He notched another arrow and drew back the string, his eyes idly studying the pirate settlement. His bow tilted ever-so-slightly and he released. A second arrow sailed down and knocked a pirate off his feet. The man hit the ground, his companions shouting and gesturing.

    The elf's mouth twitched. He wanted to scratch it, but also couldn't be bothered. Not now. Instead he put another arrow to his string and drew it back. He waved the point back and forth, back and forth, choosing his target. The pirates shouted, some releasing arrows wildly into the trees. None came close to Tamric. He paused his bow and released the string. A third pirate staggered, then fell. The elf's arrow pierced his neck.

    En's Action

    A fairy zoomed through the canopy of the Greshnere wood, headed for the sound of water. She heard shouting, then smelled blood. The fairy frowned, diving down among the trees. She found the winter elf easily enough. Tamric was perched in a tree with a bow. The fairy dove for his head and stopped short before his nose.

    "Prince Tamricccccc! I found you!"

    Tamric narrowed his eyes, his voice monotone. "Go away. I'm busy."

    The fairy hovered in front of his face, her hands on her hips. "I've got a message from En!"

    Tamric didn't respond. Instead he aimed his bow and glanced past the fairy. He released an arrow, hitting a pirate who was climbing a ladder to a tower. The fairy rolled her eyes as the man's startled scream echoed, followed by the sound of him hitting the ground.

    "Well whatever, I'll just tell you! She wants to know if everything's okay, and if you're taking care of yourself, and if you've remembered to-"

    "She's nosy," Tamric said, putting another arrow to his string. "She's my teacher, not my mother."

    The fairy held a finger in the air. "She thought you might say that, and so she told me to tell you that it's your fault she has to act like both, since you refuse to-"

    Tamric waved the fairy away, then drew back his string and released. Another pirate choked and hit the ground. More arrows were sailing into the trees now, and the women and children of the settlement had gotten in boats and were taking off. Tamric ignored the ones without weapons. He didn't care what they did. He was only vaguely interested in the pirates. They weren't proving to be much of a challenge.

    "Hmph!" the fairy said, flying back down and landing on his shoulder. "What are you even doing right now?"

    Tamric released an arrow. "Killing pirates."

    "Huh. Why are they bringing torches?"

    Tamric frowned. "What?"

    The fairy pointed at several men running towards the base of the trees. "Torches."

    The elf's expression changed for the first time. It was mild surprise. "Oh."

    He stood and ran along the branch, then hopped to the next tree. The fairy buzzed around the air after him. "Hey wait up!"


    [Event] Having been ambushed by a one-elf army, the river pirate families took to the waters and fled, while the pirates briefly explored the forest. They didn't get too far, and quickly returned to the safety of the river. En is worried they will be back with more warriors, though it's doubtful they'll leave their settlement and go too far into Greshnere wood.



    @CommanderBlade
    (3) The Wild King of the South


    Ozymanna's Action

    The giant snake Ozymanna lay curled up in his favorite spot. It was an alcove built into the rocky base of the Wild King Fengar's Bone Hall. Beast maidens brought heated stones and placed them in grated pits underneath, while others fed him butchered cattle from the monster tribe grazing fields. A third group held a giant saucer aloft, containing a mead the serpent was rather fond of. He sighed, startling the beast maidens around him. Ozymanna's tongue flicked in and out of his mouth.

    "I speak truly when I say being born big was the best decision I ever made. For the Wild King likes his servants to be as powerful as he, and I get all the heat and food and drink for it."

    One of the bolder maids, a sheep beast Ozymanna liked despite her boldness, or maybe because of it, shook a rag at him. "You best watch how you speak. One would think you're being haughty haughty to the king!"

    Ozymanna rolled his eyes. "Oh I didn't mean it like that and you know it Felsi. Can't a serpent indulge a bit? Speak a few self satisfied words?"

    "Heads have rolled for less in these halls..."

    "Oh fine," Ozymanna said, leaning forward slightly. "Tip the bowl I'm thirsty."

    The beast maidens obeyed, lifting the giant saucer and bringing it towards the serpents mouth. Felsi watched with her arms crossed.

    Kee'Ah's Action

    A door slamming made Ozymanna pause. He and the beast maidens turned. Kee'Ah Old Feather had just entered the hall. Her bone skull was broken, as was one of her wings. She had other wounds on her body as well. All the beast servants and officials in the hall watched as she came to a stop. The harpy glanced around, then spotted the giant saucer full of mead. She stalked over to her, dripping blood along the mosaic floor.

    "What in Yefletchlin's name happened to you?" Ozymanna said, frowning.

    "Minotaurs," she grumbled, reaching the saucer. She used her good wing to beat away the beast maidens around it. They cried out and shielded themselves. Kee'Ah tipped forward into the saucer, landing in the mead. The harpy began drinking.

    "It seems they got the best of you."

    "I killed one," Kee'Ah. "Maybe two. Got some shit on my nails so maybe their wounds will fester."

    Ozymanna frowned, leaning out from the alcove and hovering over the saucer. "Well don't get any in the mead you empty-headed hedge-bird. And weren't you supposed to endure the minotaurs to our king, not kill them?"

    "They started it," Kee'Ah said between drinks. "I'll get em' next time."

    "Hm," Ozymanna said, narrowing his eyes. "You better. Fengar won't be happy to hear you failed..."



    @TheShadowOfZama
    (4) The Enchanter of the Western Marsh


    Johade's Action

    Utensils clinked. A massive hearth roared. Shadows danced along stone walls.

    The great hall of the necromancer's tower was warm and smelled of dampness and death. A long table occupied the middle, with many seats around it. A handful of men and women in muted finery sat eating. Johade and Johade's daughter sat at the end across from each other. In a large chair, turned away from the table and facing the fire, was the Enchanter of the Marsh. The necromancer said nothing, his figure hidden behind the high back of his chair. The table behind him echoed with the sound of eating and murmured conversation.

    All of them flinched as Johade slammed a fist on the table. "Well daughter? Let us hear it! How did your labors go today!"

    Johade's Daughter's Action

    The men and women at the table exchanged looks. They were the important people of Mosshelm, the families who supplied laborers, materials, and other such things. Though the necromancer did not eat, he hosted many feasts regardless. Few ever saw him, and fewer still heard him speak. The necromancer mostly listened. As if waiting for something.

    As for Johade and his daughter, the people at the table had gotten over their presence by their third feast with them. The ghostly pair didn't eat either, but they always attended. That wasn't to say the dullahan and banshee weren't unnerving.

    They very much were.

    "Well?" Johade said, gesturing. "How was it my cherished daughter? Did you succeed?"

    The banshee nodded meekly. Her gaze was fixed on the table, as if there was something she could not take her eyes off for fear of her slipping away.

    "Excellent," Johade said, settling back in his chair. "That is to be expected, after all. You are my kin."

    The necromancer held out a hand and made a slight gesture. A woman veiled in all black and standing next to him nodded, then turned to the table. "The master wishes to know how your labors went Johade."

    The dullahan beat his chest, eliciting a hollow, metallic sound. "I have succeeded! The marshes are turning as we speak!"

    Seemingly satisfied, the necromancer returned his hand to his armrest and continued to face the hearth. The people at the table exchanged glances. One of the younger men, a merchant, cleared his throat. "Ah, Sir Johade."

    The dullahan shifted in his seat. "Hm?" he said, in a tone that implied he hadn't realized others were present. "Oh, yes, what is it. Speak up."

    "Well," the merchant said, glancing at the others. "We were wondering if we might know your daughter's name...she has been coming to us for supplies for the pit digging, and I do not know what to call her."

    Johade didn't move or respond for a moment. Finally a chuckle echoed out of his armor. "What a ridiculous question." he gestured at the banshee. "Tell him your name my most cherished daughter!"

    The banshee continued to stare at the table. "I am the daughter."

    "And there you have it!" Johade said.

    "Ah," the merchant said. "Very well then...I suppose it's like, a title?"

    "I don't know what you mean," Johade said. He pointed a gauntlet finger at the merchant. "But you best keep respecting her regardless. As well as myself, and most importantly, the master."

    The merchant swallowed, then nodded. "Of course..."


    @SteelWriter77
    (5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills

    Henny Bonefinger's Action

    Henny dug in a pit, her long claws dislodging dirt clods and sending them out the hole behind her. She was fairly deep into the earth, having been digging for a while. A pile of rabbits lay next to her in the hole, snacks for when she took breaks. The little sunlight that streamed into the pit was blocked as Runtun peered inside.

    Runtun's Action

    "Henny," he said, his low voice rumbling out. "What are you doing."

    "Pretty pretty Henny digs!" the hag said. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Come down and join pretty pretty Henny! Go faster!"

    "Hmm, no, I have other business to attend to. I'm going on a journey for a couple weeks. Which is why I'm checking on your progress. I need you to finish this."

    Henny picked up a rock and inspected it between her fingers. "Hmm, Pretty pretty Henny hasn't found what she seeks yet. But it will be done. Pretty pretty Henny good at digging."

    "Yes," Runtun said, slowly. The giant itched the back of his neck with his fingers, then straightened up from peering in the hole. Runtun glanced around. The goblin king's hall rose up behind them, and all around were the structures of the village. A giant X had been painted on the ground a few yards away. "Henny...."

    "Hm," Henny said, digging into the earth with her claws. A steady stream of dirt spewed out behind her.

    "There's an X on the ground here."

    The hag didn't stop digging. "Then pick it up if you want it, what does that have to do with pretty pretty Henny."

    "Do you know what X's signify?"

    "Don't care."

    Runtun massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to be patient. "It's where they wanted you to dig Henny..."

    The hag paused, then straightened up with a scowl. "Eh? Pretty pretty Henny thought she could dig where she wanted!"

    "No...you were supposed to dig here."

    Scratching sounds echoed from the pit, then the hag crawled out. She brushed herself up and glanced around the clearing in the village. The big X waited nearby. Henny spat, then gestured in irritation. "No one told pretty pretty Henny this!"

    "Right," Runtun said, turning away. "Well, hurry with the new hole, we'll need it."

    "Bah!" Henny said, stalking over to the X. She kicked aside the rocks that formed. "Bah bah bah! Making pretty pretty Henny do more work!"

    "Good look Henny," Runtun said as he walked for the path leading out of the village. "I'll bring you back a present."

    Henny ignored the giant, simply bending down and preparing to dig.



    @Zedalb
    (6) The Northern Ogre Prince


    Saya's (and Reega's) Action

    "No," Saya said. The sphinx lay across a cushioned bench. A beast servant held a goblet near her mouth. Feasting and conversation echoed around the bone hall. In front of her stood Reega the Eager. The muscled ogre gripped his head in frustration.

    "Why not! It's only fair!"

    Saya nodded at the beast servant, who tipped the cup to her mouth. The sphinx finished drinking, then wiped it with a wing. "Because, I already told you I don't want to compete with you. It's tedious and pointless."

    Reega stomped. "It is not pointless! It's fun! Why can't you see that! Winner gets favor, loser gets ripped to pieces!"

    Saya arched an eyebrow. "And what if you're the loser?"

    Reega laughed, the cruel sound echoing around the hall. "Impossible! My warband is the most fearsome in the land! The prince will delight in our conquests!"

    "Hm yes, well I think the prince will delight in everything I'm about to bring him."

    Reega lifted his helm, peering at her with wild eyes. "You keep speaking like that, hinting and hinting. Spit it out cat bird, what are you doing out in the wilds!"

    "Hmm, I believe that my business for now."

    "You are the most offensive thing in my eyes, sly, but not enough to have fun with it!" Reega turned away. "Fine, I'll test my mettle elsewhere, and hope you get killed in a gruesome and humorous manner."

    "Shh, the dancers are about to begin."

    "Eh?" Reega said, spinning back. Several beast women were gathering in the center of the hall, draped in silk and precious stones. Reega grabbed a chair out from underneath a large satyr and walked it over to Saya.

    "No go sit somewhere else," Saya said.

    "Too late," Reega said, setting it down and getting comfortable. "Let's compete over who getes them afterwards."

    Saya put a wing to her face, stifling a groan. "Reega we are in dire need of finding something to occupy your talents with."

    The ogre smiled, gazing out at the dancers. "Oh don't you worry about that cat bird. I already told you me and my warband have been busy..."



    [Event] An envoy from a neighboring goblin kingdom has arrived to see the Ogre Prince. During the meeting, he asked for a trade deal to be established, in which the Ogre Prince would give them stone, and the goblin king would give them gold in return. The evnoy is waiting in the guest quarters for the Ogre Prince to come to a decision.





    @Vanestus
    (7) The Eastern King Under the Hill

    Snullywatch's Action

    "Pluck my beard and tar me with feathers," the dwarf said. He stared at Snullywatch. "I don't think I've ever seen one of your kind. You a goblin?"

    "Gnome is what we've been called," Snullywatch said. "Though all our kind have too many names to keep track of."

    The dwarf chuckled. "Aye, aye. Don't they have just a barrel of em' for us. Well no matter, I'm here as summoned." he glanced around the dwarf lord's hall. "Tis a nice place. Old, breathes well. But not dwarven."

    "No," Snullywatch said. He gestured for the dwarf to follow him. "Not dwarven entirely, though Lord Steelshout has repaired much of it. Mortal men built this long ago."

    "I see," the dwarf said, following Snullywatch through the great entrance doors. The sun shone down as they stepped out into the settlement of Stelius. Many dwarves and goblins walked about, and even a few giants. The voices of the merchants echoed from their stalls, and pack animals grunted and snorted.

    "We need you to start something for us," Snullywatch said, walking with the dwarf. "A project. Lord Steelshout would see you himself, but he's otherwise engaged."

    "I'm all ears, though given my trade I can take a guess at one you want."

    "Yes," Snullywatch began, then paused. A scowl overtook his face as a shadow fell over the settlement. "Hold on,"

    Gus's Action

    Gus ambled along the road, stopping by the edge of Stelius. He gazed down at the inhabitants. Several waved back up at him with smiles and greetings. The giant oxen smiled back at them, then glanced down to see Snullywatch standing directly beneath.

    "Gus." the gnome said, his arms crossed. "What's this I hear about you terrorizing the nearby human village?"

    The giant ox frowned. "Hmm, eh?"

    "Don't eh me you cheeky cow! Speak words I know you can!"

    Gus simply smiled. "hm."

    "Well just so you know, a rider came in from that village not twenty minutes ago, swearing fealty to Lord Steelshout! You scared him half to death!"

    "Ah," Gus said, feeling geniune embaressement. He hung his head. "hm..."

    Snullywatch rolled his eyes, then patted the giant ox's leg. "Oh no matter, it works out all the same. May try crouching the next time you approach. Others aren't used to you like we are."

    Gus shook his head. "Hm."

    "Right, come along. I'm going to need your strength in a moment here. We've got a mighty important project ahead of us."


    @The Villain
    (8) The Horned King of the Southern Crag



    Heccafet's (& Druug's) Action


    "What is he saying," Heccafet said, gazing down at the tazann chieftain. Her voice was quiet as always, but still audible. Druug stood next to her. His large eye gazed intently at the beaked monster.

    "I don't know," the cylcops said. He gestured fruitlessly. "His speech, it's...different."

    "Yes he's from the western side of the mountain," Heccafet said. "But it should still be their tongue. And I don't speak the language of the tazann, only you do."

    Druug sniffed, then itched at his muscled arm. "You speak with King Haraltain well enough."

    "His noble line speaks a different language than the other cheiftains. King-tongue he calls it. I learned it because I had to. You know this, you learned it to."

    Druug let out a low grumble. "I learn all of them. It's easy."

    "Then why can't you tell me what he's saying?" Heccafet said. She glanced around the hall. Other monsters surrounded them, but gave the two favored servants space. There was much work to do, and everyone had parchemnt with various decrees on it. They all waited their turn to speak with the giant spider and cylcops.

    "Give me time," Druug said. He nodded at the tazann chieftain. "Speak, again. More slowly this time."

    The beaked monster talked and gestured. The crowd of monsters around the cavern waited. Finally the cylcops held up a hand. "I understand, thank you." he turned to the gaint spider.

    "Have you been stealing children again."

    Heccafet's face remained blank. "...no."

    Druug glared at her with his one eye. "I'll break one of your legs off and use it to pick my teeth if you're lying to me."

    Heccafet gave him a polite smile. "I swore off taking care of little ones, no matter how much they need me..."

    "Woman."

    The giant spider rolled her eyes. "Fine, so I came across several-"

    Druug stopped her with a gesture. "Enough, I don't want to hear it. You spider kin confuse me. You don't eat what you catch, only rear them. Enough, leave that to the mothers they were born to."

    "I will not!" Heccafet said, stomping a foot. "Why should they have children when I am denied it by the gods!" her voice, louder than any had ever heard it, echoed around the cavern. "What have I done to deserve such a thing! Tell me!"

    All eyes stared at her. Druug stretched, unfazed. "I don't know, I don't care. I want to eat everything in this cavern," he leaned in towards Heccafet, lowering his voice. "But I don't. Because King Haraltain has bid me not to. Why would you get to break laws when I, Druug, do not?" Heccefat wore a look of bitter hatred. She turned her large body away from the cyclops and the chieftain. Druug rolled his eyes. "Be mad at me as you want woman, just return the children. This chieftan is willing to supply warriors in exchange. I would not test him on this curteousy, and this works out well for me. And you. You had other orders besides nabbing the spawn of other tribes. Get back out there and meet with the other cheiftains."

    "I am aware," Heccafet said, her voice low. "I will go after my baggage carriers have rested, we just got back."

    "And...?"

    "I will return the children..."

    "Good," Druug said. He spoke quickly to the cheiftian, then gently pushed the tazann away with a massive hand. "NEXT! Come forth and give your petition!"


    @Cosmo Rat
    (9) The Northern Horse Lord

    I stand before the great many thousand sabers. The many thousand arrows. The many thousand thundering hooves. Let the many thousand bend their knee to the one, and forever be known their Overlord. - Dazen Karad, Conquering Chieftain, uniter of clans, first Overlord of Khavalia.


    Sigrid Falcun's (& Princess Kayala Karad's) Action


    "A fine gift," Princess Kayala said, receiving the tribute from the well-dressed man. "It shall greet the Overlord's treasury most beautifully. Enjoy your use of the exchange, burghermeister!"

    The important official bowed, his elaborate fur coat splaying out around him. He then turned and rejoined the gathering of merchants waiting before the royal booth. The river town of Aghalask rose up around them. A embroidered canopy gave shade to the princess, advisors, and scribes around her. The next merchant came up with his tribute in hand. Prince Kayala gave him a perfect smile; welcoming yet regal. She was about to speak, then noticed a band of warriors walking purpousfuly across the gathering ground of the settlement. Among them was Segrid Falkun, commander of the sellswords. Princess Kayala excused herself, handing off her duties to one of her father's men, then lifted the hem of her elaborate dress and hastened across the town center. She met up with Segrid and fell into step beside him.

    "Princess," he said, giving her a polite nod, but continuing to walk.

    "Captain," she said, returning the nod. "I had thought it nice when we chanced upon each other in the same town, but it appears you are leaving already."

    "I am," Segrid said, a small hint of a smile on his face. The princes was always eager for information and news. "We were only ever resupplying here. A day at most."

    "I heard father speaking of sending emissaries south,"

    Segrid shook his head, bemused. "Then you already know where I go, don't you."

    "Perhaps. But I'd like to hear you confirm it. I must work to get any truth from the men of the court."

    At this Segrid let out a laugh. They were nearing the docks now, and several ships waited with men standing around them. "No princess, I think actually I'm the only one you have trouble getting a straight answer from. And I should like to keep it that way, as everyone else bends to your will in the time it takes for the words to come out of your mouth."

    The princess gave a mock frown of disproval. "I should think that slander captain, and I would watch how you speak of a princess."

    "Hm," Segrid said, looking past her at the royal booth. Merchants and officials were still lined up, giving tribute, recieving seals of approval in exchange. "You seem to be adapting well to life here."

    Kayala's teasing and quarelling mood left her. Segrid was the only one she didn't have to act a perfect around. She could also speak her mind with the captain. She had few others except her sworn maidens and her cousin she could do that with. "Yes," she said, a hint of weariness in her voice. "It is coming along nicely I suppose. But...I miss the old country Sigrid..."

    The captain nodded, not responding. A few minutes of silence passed as the sound of the dockworkers and the merchants intermingled. "Ulfyre is a good land," Segrid said, finally breaking the silence. "The king was right to come here. Ulfyre is rich, with small kingdoms and few warriors to defend them. Here we could do something. Build an empire that expands back across the north and west as our anscestors did."

    "You sound like my father," Kayala said. It was not an accusation, but neither was it a compliment. She gazed out across the town, watching the people move about.

    Segrid took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Well, I can say no more than that then. I must be off." He bowed towards her, then started off for the docks. His warriors followed at a respectable distance.

    "You are charged with bringing me back purple thread for my loom captain," The princess called after him.

    "What?" he called over his shoulder. "There is no purple dye in these lands!"

    "Nonetheless captain, I won't accept failure."

    Segrid waved over his shoulder, then he and his men began to board the boats.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Despite the fact that I have been claiming this for several turns now, the next few update will be barebones to speed things up. Don't forget to keep track of counters for when they hit [0], and remind me if I haven't mentioned them going down in awhile.
    Lop threw 8 6-faced dice. Total: 30
    3 3 6 6 5 5 3 3 2 2 5 5 1 1 5 5
    Lop threw 8 6-faced dice. Total: 31
    5 5 4 4 2 2 6 6 6 6 2 2 2 2 4 4
     
    Lop said:
    Sorry I totally missed your first post while I was writing the update, there's no open slots atm but there was one other player who was interested and sometimes people drop, so I can let you know if that happens or I find this is easy enough to put in more kingdoms. I'll know in about 2 turns how smooth this quest can be run
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    So what do you think?
     
    Varder said:
    So what do you think?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    I really really want to open it up and that's always my gut instinct because more players is awesome, but I always do that and end up burning out or something with work brings down the whole thing. If I'm being brutally honest I probably can't take on one more player, at least not right now. Not unless we hit a groove where I've established all the lore and don't have to write up character scenes
     
    Turn 5: The First Cries of Battle
  • Threadmarks
    • Ulfyre

    195 A.E.










    @I just write @CommanderBlade @JbeJ275 @TheShadowOfZama @SteelWriter77 @Zedalb @Vanestus @The Villain @Cosmo Rat


    Important Events
    Months of Eshweld-Hohemborro
    ​

    Battle of the Greshnere-Kline

    Yewhold Elf Raiders
    Maneuverability:1/Condition:3/Discipline:0/Defense:0/Skirmish:1/Ranged:1/Charge:0/Clash:1
    8d6 Roll (M:6, CO:5, DI:5, DE:6, S:2, R:6, CH:1, CL:2)
    Servant Buff: Discipline/Skirmish

    Kline Pirates
    Maneuverability:1/Condition:1/Discipline:0/Defense:0/Skirmish:1/Ranged:0/Charge:0/Clash:1
    8d6 Roll (M:3, CO:6, DI:5, DE:3, S:2, R:5, CH:1, CL:5)

    Greshnere Elves 4 Category Margin Victory

    And was often written in those years of isolated holds and roads fallen to ruin, there was little fighting, but that battles that occurred were fierce and merciless. Among these was a conflict along the River Kline, a river fat was trade and fatter-still with piracy, that occurred along the stretch of river that passes through the Greshnere wood, home to faerys and aelfs ruled by the line of Yewhold. A century past they had fought tooth and claw against rivals clans and hobs and mortals, but in the later 2nd century they were rarely seen outside their boundaries.

    The river pirates however had little fear of the aelfs or the hill hobs or the second-lived, as their boats were fast, their axes sharp, their arrows fully fletched. They had come to be this way over decades of successful raids and plundering. So it came as a surprise to these prideful reavers when the aelfs began to harry them and burn their settlements along the Greshnere-Kline. The back and forth of skirmishes, pursuits, and plundering finally came to a head in the month of Oosen 195 A.E. when Prince Tamric of Yewhold and a hundred of his spear-aelfs led Yoric Stoatbeard and his warriors into a carefully laid trap deep within Greshnere. Cut off from both his river and his boats, Yoric Stoatbeard and his men were cut down to a man, and the pirates of the Kline lost their foothold along the Greshnere banks.


    Battle of Finnrear's Crevice

    Fengar Centaur Raiders
    Maneuverability:2/Condition:3/Discipline:0/Defense:0/Skirmish:1/Ranged:0/Charge:1/Clash:1
    8d6 Roll (M:4, CO:6, DI:2, DE:1, S:3, R:1, CH:5, CL:5)
    Buff: Defense/Range

    Minotaur Warband
    Maneuverability:1/Condition:2/Discipline:0/Defense:0/Skirmish:0/Ranged:0/Charge:1/Clash:3
    8d6 Roll (M:5 CO:4, DI:2 DE:6 S:6, R:2, CH:2, CL:4)

    Fengar Centaur Raiders 1 Category Margin Victory
    Fengar Centaur Raiders

    How crass the name, Finnrear's Crevice, yet how serious the battle it entailed. Wild King Fengar, Lord of the Hunt, He Who Stands Above Others On the Great Hill, lording over the Haden Wood in his bonehall atop the quylenn hills, and Chief Finnrear of the Calayha Minotaurs, proud, strong, ruler of the craggy ravines of Dunwaaf. It was Finnrear- so proud of his strength!- who received the harpy emissary of King Fengar. And he did beat her, and throw her from his domain, that she should never return unless on bent knee and head bowed. And thus was the wrath of King Fengar roused. And woe to the one who angers a king.

    The Wild King bid the giant serpent Ozymanna, descendant of the first monster, the moon-eater, to lead his centaur raiders on the warpath. And Ozymanna obliged his king. Finnrear was not surprised at their approach, nay! He knew they were coming! For neither King Fengar nor Ozymanna made any secret of it. They wanted Finnrear to know they were coming. They wanted those watching to understand what was happening. The price of angering a king.

    And when the battle occurred it was raining, sending great waters into the craggy ravines of Dunnwaaf. The minotaurs and their chief fought bravely, knee deep in water, against the onslaught of the centaurs. And Ozymanna, the great serpent. Slithering through the ravine, dropping down from great overhangs into the water. That snake ate many bullmen, whole they say, and caused terror among their number.

    And when it was done and the rain and stopped and the waters fled the ravines, Finnrear was no more. Brought low by a dozen centaur spears, dead among his kin, split open under the sun. And Ozymanna bid the centaurs cut the head of every dead minotaur and mount them on stakes throughout Dunnwaaf, and then the sows and heifers and child-beasts of the minotaurs were taken and put under the rule of Tofen Surehoof of the centaurs, with Fengar as overking.


    Strange Tidings in the West

    As I write to you Evali, I must confess to some trepidation at what I have seen. I was south of the lake Woslayh between the Aubren wood and the Valley Yulda, as always carting my wares between the goblins and the ogres and the dead along the kline (though I had not been that far yet) when I came upon the settlement of Pilfin. In years past a dozen houses, a stable, and the fields. But now Evali, now! Never before have I seen so many goblin gathered in one place! And with them ogres and harpies and other such creatures! All gathered together with tools for digging and hauling. And what did I find but a road house and the finest ale I had tasted in years! So overwhelmed was I with the hubbub and activity that I must admit to losing myself in the drink (the goblins Evali, you should have seen them all! Laughing and dancing in the ways only they can) and I took out my lyre and strummed and I plucked and they did enjoy it. All of them the goblins and the ogres. And then what do I see by a harpy with a golden chain of office bidding me come see her master and play for her!

    Oh Evali was I scared! I knew I should have kept the dammed lyre away, and my cup empty of that ale! But it was too late and I was swept away to a private room where to my astonishment I witnessed a sphinx and a giant! Together! I shall try and recreate what I remember. They were arguing over something. No, not arguing, gently debating-

    -Runtun chuckled as he leaned back against the series of cushions many had worked to build up for him. The giant picked at his teeth with a small goblin spear, then glanced down at the sphinx. "You're lying."

    "Lying am I?" Saya said with a coy smile. "Then tell me, how many fentlings do you think I shook out of the bush after following the rainbow dew."

    Runtun laughed uproariously, smacking his knee. "By the sleeping stone god woman, you can tell a good yarn! Fine!" he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. "Then it is my turn." he nodded at the trembling gnome with the lyre by the doorway. "You! Play something..." the giant snapped. "bawdy." The gnome nodded nervously, then began to strum. He broke a string, but everyone in the room ignored it. "Now," Runtun said, fixing an arched eyebrow on Saya. "Have ye ever heard the one about the brownie and the goblin? A brownie comes out to find his favorite chicken nowhere in his coop, and he wanted an egg for breakfast! So he looks for the hen and finds her in his neighbors yard, a goblin! And the goblin already has the hen and his taking her back to his home, with a laid egg mind you! And the brownie says 'give back my hen and the egg with it!' and the goblin sets down the hen but keeps the egg, going 'it was laid on my hill, it's mine!' and the brownie goes 'let us settle this the way the old kin did, in the ancient times' and goblins, who are proud and love all things ancient, agreed. So the brownie explained, 'I kick you in the balls and count to ten! Then you do the same to me! Whoever manages to stand wins!' and the goblin nodded and spread his legs. So the brownie goes back home and gets his best boots, the ones with a little iron in the tip, and comes back and kicks the goblin hard as he can in the balls! And counts to ten! And the goblin stays up despite the pain! And when the brownie reaches ten the goblin goes 'there, now it's my turn,' and the brownie picks up the hen and runs away screaming 'keep your fucking egg!'

    The room erupted into laughter, even Saya wore a wide grin. She conceded the good joke with a bow of her head. "Well done my giant friend, perhaps this project of ours will finish quicker if all giants and goblins had as good as humor as you."

    "Aye," Runtun said. "And if ogres were as half as beautiful as you, I'd marry ten of them!"

    -     I tell you Evali I was scared! But the giant and the sphinx seemed to be good friends, or at the very least enjoyed each other's stories, and the goblins Evali! So many! I wonder each and every night what they were up to in Pilfin...



    Next Turn Time Skip Gamble
    ​
    1 turn. 8 possible actions. Representing a 5 year period leading into the 3rd century.

    For the next turn, you will come up 4 actions for each of your servants. They can be separate, or they can depend on each other     , whichever you wish. But there is a trick to the order you want to perform them in. Each time you roll, if you're successful, then it's on to the next roll and the next action attached to it. But if you fail, the next roll is counted towards the same action. Fail once, and your servant potentially only achieves 3 actions. Fail twice, 2 actions. But for every fail there's a higher chance your character will empty their [3] counter and level up.

    How ambitious are you? What could you do with 8 actions and 5 years? The kingdoms are established and the tutorial is over. Now is the time to start the real game...
     
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    • Turn 6: The Coming of Legends
  • Threadmarks
    • Ulfyre

    200 A.E.










    @I just write

    (1) Sorceress of the Riverlands



    She is the last of the Welh, the best of them. The long awaited heir and redeemer of the Lehvant. But she not is what they wanted, no. Not what they envisioned when they designed her conception and birth. She is far more. Something different. Something those sorcerers and alchemists could never dream of. And they will hate what she does, if they have any such emotions in death. But she will accomplish what they desired, in her own way.






    "Veranca!" Bellonie yelled. The iron maiden's voice echoed around the bookshelves that lined the great hall. Hassid scholars paused in their work; some on ladders to reach scrolls, others gathered around tables laden with candles and maps, still others sitting at wooden desks with complex mechanisms that secured books being copied by hand. The head scholar wasn't among them. Bellonie frowned as much as her iron face allowed. "Where is that weasel man..." she muttered. She hovered across the stone floor towards a large pair of double doors. They were cracked slightly, and the sounds of voices drifted through. The undead contraption bumped into the doors, doing her best to nudge them open. Finally she gave up and cracked open her body's metal door. Several withered hands reached out and helped, then retreated back inside the iron maiden. Satisfied, Bellonie hovered through the open door.

    "You are inSANE!" a voice yelled. Murmurs of agreement followed it. "To postulate that the creator themself is within the land is to deny the sacrifice and separation of divine creation! AND, if they were in the land, then the gods would have spoken of it at least once!"

    Bellonie floated into a spacious auditorium. Scholars, teachers, merchants and other interested parties sat in the benches watching two men face each other behind podiums in the center. The walls were columns, allowing for generous sunlight to stream in and highlight the mosaic patterns on the floor.

    "And they DO speak of it!" the second man yelled. He banged on his podium with a fist. "Was it not Eoin themself who stated that the land is the creator and to love it is to love our divine lineage! That is a direct quote!"

    "It is not to be taken literally!" the first man yelled back. "Eoin was a being of beauty and poetry, and their literal words are documented in the Book of Statutes, but THAT statement you so readily quote to support your ridiculous theories is one of the 900 verses of love collected in the Teachings of the True Father-Mother!"

    "It was the children of creation who decided which was literal and which was allegorical, and it was the children of creation who wrote those books! We are not infallible!"

    "Then why not throw out the entire Aeya canon tradition! In truth we can not be sure of ANYTHING with your thinking!"

    Bellonie sighed and floated through the benches. She would never get used to the myriad of people and creatures that her master had gathered. Not that it was her place to wonder at such things. The iron maiden had never lived a mortal life, nor had she been an aelf or hob or a monster. All she knew were the memories Lady Fay had given her. Everything else was borne of the souls that inhabited Bellonie's frame.

    She often wondered which of the souls had given her a love for music. And a love for stupid, dumb, didn't-even-say-goodbye elves. And a severe impatience for shouting scholars.

    "Where is Veranca!" she said All eyes turned to her, even the men at the podiums. There were many fearful expressions, but Bellonie didn't take pleasure or offense at them. She understood her appearance was strange, and her voice unnerving, but in truth she rarely got angry, and she certainly wasn't dangerous. She was who she was, and they were who they were, and all served the master.

    "Here," the scholar said. He rose up from one of the benches, brushing at his robe. He was used to Bellonie after having known her for 5 years, and simply walked over and joined the iron maiden where she floated. "Yes? Has Lady Fay summoned me?"

    "No," Bellonie said, turning. "Isov needs help."

    Veranca frowned and followed. "The wanderer? What does he need help with?"

    "Our soldiers are rotting faster than expected. He wants you to do something about it."

    Veranca's face paled, and he made the sign with his fingers that the Hassid always did when they didn't want to do something. "Honestly I've told you this a thousand times, I'm unfamiliar with your necromantic practices! We hardly dabbled ourselves, and the things we did discover are wholly different than your methods. I can't be much help to you..."

    "You've had five years to familiarize yourself," Bellonie said, floating with the scholar towards a large door. "One would think you didn't want to learn it, which is strange, considering you Hassid void your bowels in protest whenever knowledge is denied to you."

    "We've been busy!" Veranca said, gesturing. "Every since we allied ourselves with the river pirates the entire north and east has opened up to us! Not to mention Lady Fay's insistence on her...oh what was the word..."

    "Golems."

    "Yes golem project! Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing!"

    Bellonie eyed the scholar as they left the bookshelves and halls behind. They were now outside, having exited a massive building of sweeping towers and archways; the Esmur Academy. All around them was the settlement of Esmur, swelled in populated since eight years ago. Now merchants, farmers, and fishers rubbed shoulders with scholars, necromancers, and pirates.

    "There were golems in Aeya," Bellonie said, leading Veranca towards a series of towers near the edge of the town.

    "There were lots of things in Aeya, that doesn't mean we can replicate them here!"

    "Well you'll have to try," Bellonie said. "You've done well enough so far," she paused at the first tower. There were a ring of them, surrounding a dirt yard that reeked of dead flesh and air-filled organs. A large gathering of undead were stood with weapons before Isov.

    As always, the wandering poet was surrounded by the ghostly maidens gifted to him by his master. He waved at Bellonie and Veranca, then approached with his entourage. "There you are!" he said, flashing a white smile. "Quickly now, get out those herbs and lotions scholar! I've got warriors that I need you to keep together!"

    Verenca sighed. "Yes...I've heard. Let me...take a look at them, then I'll go back and get what I need."

    Isov nodded in greeting towards Bellonie. "Thank you for getting him."

    "Hm," Bellonie said. "Think nothing of it. I'm going to start preparations for the festival. When you're done here, I expect your help with the organization."

    Isov bowed deeply, his luxurious cape sweeping about his expensive boots. "It would be an honor, my beautiful jailer."

    "Hm," Bellonie said, then turned and started floating away.

    "Festival?" Veranca said, furrowing his brow.

    Isov laughed, amused. "Why of course, haven't you heard! We're the new Lehvant, or so they say! Lady Fay is dubbing next Kenday a holiday! The founding of the Kingdom of Welhaysa! You should get out more scholar, the whole of the riverlands has been talking about it for months!"

    "Ah," Veranca said, glancing around. "No wonder so many have been traveling here lately. Well...a festival is nice I suppose..."

    "Indeed it is," Isov said, putting an arm around the scholar and shepherding him towards the undead. "Now, come and look at these corpses, and tell me what's wrong with them. Their fingers keep popping off and their eyes won't stay in the sockets."


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue]     The river pirates are feuding and the deathtoll is rising. The issue involves succession rights to a powerful clan, with every ambitious pirate leader joining one of the sides for personal gain. Not only does this jeopardize Esmur itself, but peaceful trade and travel all along the river Kline.
    [Issue] Large amounts refugees from the north and west are arriving in the Olgatha riverlands to seek the promise of safety. Although there is a good amount of food to be had, there are not enough buildings to shelter them, and crime is increasing. Advisors inform Lady Fay that she must implement some kind of standardized law, or build more shelters.





    @JbeJ275
    (2) The Elf Lord of the East


    I will not be discouraged En. I will not lose faith. Look into my eyes. Listen to my words. Do you see me? Do you hear me? This is an oath I give before you, to one who was once worshiped as a goddess in ages past. I am Renark Yewhold, direct descendant of Liassa and Faeyus, last of my line and ruler of the Greshnere wood. I will not repeat the mistakes of my forefathers. I will not bear their sins or doubts, nor their madness and folly. I founded here a new kingdom and a new line. One that will see all fairy and elf and spirit united under one crown. And you will be there to guide my heir when I am no longer here. Promise me this En. Promise me you will guide my line until we are freed of our past and our madness...





    Four Years Ago
    Settlement of Esmur, seat of the Riverland Sorceress    ​


    ​
    "Stop him! He's getting away!"

    Tanric ran along the tiled roof, not even bothering to dodge a throwing axe hurled up from the street. The winter elf easily avoided it, bounding from one roof to the other, then a third. He easily put distance between himself and the river pirates, who were the only protection the settlement of Esmur had. And Tanric had killed enough pirates to understand how they hunted.
    ​
    But he wasn't killing any tonight. The elf didn't feel the need to, nor did he particularly want to. Instead he ran with several tomes tucked under his arm. His destination was the the maze of docks that spread out into the Kline River from Esmur's shores. A small boat was hidden under one of them, and Tanric planned to take it downriver until he reached Greshnere.

    He skid along a roof and dropped down into the space between two houses. The sun had set, and the settlement was awash in torchlight, and echoing with angry shouts. Tanric had been careless during his visit to the necromancer settlement. He had spent a good two weeks infiltrating, only to be discovered during one of his forays in the depths of the sorceress's tower. But the elf had managed to talk himself out of it, much to his own surprise, and even went so far as to pass himself off as a Hassid scholar. Thus had another two months passed where he had complete access to a wide variety of scrolls and parchments being collected in Esmur.

    His mission had been to secure the most dangerous scrolls and deny the sorceress her foul arts. In the end he had only managed to get one, as well as a few works he had taken personal interest in. Combat styles and such. Nothing of interest to anyone but him. But truly finding what he wanted had proven more difficult than he anticipated. Things were moving to quickly in the settlement, new people, new scrolls, anything and everything was coming to Esmur and being shuffled around constantly.

    And then while he was looking, his deception was finally discovered. This time irrevocably, when a child grabbed his hood during a drinking party and pulled it down, revealing his ears. Apparently the Hassid only had a few elves among their number, and they were all quite well-known.

    Tanric wasn't one of them.

    So now he was running, and dodging pirate arrows and throwing axes, and frowning at the sensation of all the mead he drank. Tanric reached the docks, slipping between fishers and merchants and ferrymen, until he found the one he wanted. He was just about to run along the boards when a figure emerged from the evening crowds. They passed Tanric, then turned and blocked his way onto the dock.

    It was Isov, the sorceress's most trusted servant.

    The elf narrowed his eyes and put a hand to the knife hidden under his cloak. Isov simply gave him a warm, but sad, smile. Though his skin was pale and grey, his features were still striking, and his eyes filled with many lifetimes.

    "Leaving so soon Tansonman?"

    Tansonman was the only name Tanric could come up with when he was first discovered. He didn't know how mortals named themselves. He didn't know any mortals before coming to Esmur. Luckily for him, no one batted an eyelid, simply assuming him of Ulaysan birth.

    Tanric kept his hand on the hilt of his knife. "I am," he said quietly. "So get out of my way Isov..."

    Isov. A dead man. The one who found him in the necromancer's tower. The one, despite all odds, Tanric had actually come to consider a somewhat-almost-possibly-maybe-friend over the eight weeks spent as a Hassid scholar. And that was a strong maybe. In truth Tanric didn't even know what a friend was.

    Isov nodded at the tomes under Tanric's arm. "If you wanted to borrow those, you could have just asked."

    Tanric stared at him, his expression guarded. He was sure Isov was here to kill him. There was no way he didn't understand what was going on. He was at the drinking party, with all the important people from the Hassid and Esmur and the necromancer's tower. He saw the ears. He knew Tanric had been lying all this time.

    "I won't say it again," Tanric said. He drew his knife ever-so-slightly from its scabbard. "Get out of my way Isov."

    The dead man stared at him for a few tense moments. The babble and shouts of those on the docks echoed around them. Nobody seemed to notice the exchange. The pirates at least hadn't found them yet.

    Isov startled Tanric by stepping to the side. "You know Tansonman, I would have figured the last month we spent as friends would have at least earned me a farewell. I know Bellonie was fond of you too. Moreso than me, I think, though she'd never admit it. She liked your songs."

    Tanric shuddered. Isov he tolerated. Bellonie gave him chills. He cleared his throat and started edging along the dock, careful to keep space between himself and the undead poet.

    "You said you were going to teach me how to hunt."

    "I lied." Tanric said, continuing to back away towards his boat.

    "Will you be back?"

    The winter elf paused, furrowing his brow. "What? Are you mocking me? If you want to fight, then draw. I can't make sense of you otherwise."

    Isov let out a laugh and shook his head. He held up his palms. "No Tanson- actually, have I at least earned your real name?"

    Tanric simply scowled.

    "Fine," Isov said. "Well, I'm not mocking you, nor do I want to fight. I want to extend to you an invitation, from myself, Bellonie, and the Lady Fay. You are welcome back anytime, without fear. We will welcome you as Hassid or aelf, it matters not."

    "That's foolish," Tanric said, confused but still guarding his expression. "I am your enemy. You are my enemy. Is that not obvious? I hate your ways."

    "Do you hate me?"

    Tanric froze, his mind not comprehending such things as emotions and knowing which were which. "No...? I am not sure."

    "Alright then," Isov said. "Well if you can not readily say you hate me, than I can readily say that I consider you a friend. Come back anytime."

    Tanric drew his knife and hurled it. It struck Isov in the chest, embedding deep. The dead man didn't even flinch, simply looking down at the knife, then looking back up at the elf. Tanric leapt from the dock into a boat he had stored underneath. He cut the line, then pushed himself into the river. He glared at Isov as he floated away. The poet retrieved something from his cloak and tossed it. Tanric caught it. It was a scroll weighted down by a colored stone.

    "A little aelf magic for you there." Isov called.

    Tanric's scowl deepened. He turned his back to the poet as the boat floated away. After a moment he turned his head to the side, not willing to look completely over his shoulder. "It's Tanric!" he shouted. "But don't tell anyone or I'll gut you!"

    Isov smiled, then waved. "Bye Tanric my friend. Until we meet again."

    The elf didn't respond, simply facing forward and picking up a paddle.

    He would have to ask En about hatred, and not-hatred. And whatever the hells a "friend" was.


    Now

    ​
    "Tamric?" En said. "Where are you right now?"

    The winter elf blinked. Suddenly the sounds of the great feast came rushing back to him. Tamric was sitting at a table, next to his uncle Lord Renark Yewhold, ruler of the Loamweld din'Yew. They were in the great glittering hall of Samiira, and there was a celebration happening. Before the table were a maze of other tables, filled with fairies, elves, dryads, spirits, and animals. Laughter and music joined together, and golden mead flowed freely like rivers.

    "En," Tamric said, tearing his gaze away from the festivities. "What is a friend?"

    Lord Renark paused his conversation with a massive dryad and turned to the pair. "Is my nephew drunk?"

    "He might be," En said.

    "I'm not drunk," Tamric said. "I'm being serious."

    "Well I need you to be here," En said, patting him on the hand. Tamric took it back, as if En's touch was scalding. The fey creature rolled her eyes. "I'm being serious Tamric. This feast is important. It's a celebration, in honor of your uncle. Who, I might add, has named you heir."

    "Hmm yes," a clear, angelic voice said. "About that..."

    Tamric, En, and Renark all turned. Fionanna, fairy queen of the Summer Court, fluttered in front of the table. Her gossamer dress trailed down around her, and her wings sparkled in the torchlight around the hall.

    "No," Lord Renark said, turning away from her. "I don't want to speak of this."

    Queen Fionanna clasped her hands together and beamed at the elf lord. "Oh, but we must! It is all the court has been talking about for weeks now!"

    "I am well aware," Lord Renark said. His tone was calm, though it held an edge of impatience. "I'm not taking a queen. Tamric is my heir, therefore the matter is settled."

    Queen Fionanna puffed out her cheeks. "You have a entire kingdom of fairy queens and elf maidens! And it is simply improper to go without a queen!"

    Renark shot her a raised eyebrow. "You have no king..."

    The fairy put a hand to her mouth and giggled. "No, I ate him!" she quickly recovered. "But this and that are different. You are our overking. You must have a queen." she batted her eyelashes. "I would of course volunteer..." she gestured at En. "But even this one would do. Just choose, and do it quickly. This is tradition among our kind."

    En's eyes grew wide with surprise, and her cheeks burned red. Tamric glanced at her in confusion, then at his uncle. Renark simply rolled his eyes. "The gods prohibit me from taking a wife other than an elf, and I desire no elf wife." he picked up his goblet and drained it. "Tamric is my heir. This conversation is over."

    "Oh posh the gods," Queen Fionanna. Despite her sentiment, she turned and flitted away. "We'll revisit this soooonnn my lord!"

    Tamric watched her go, unsure of what had just occurred. En still looked shocked. The winter elf turned to her. "Tell me what a friend is. Explain it so that I can understand it."

    The fey creature slowly shook her head, then came back to her senses. "Right," she said, picking up her own goblet and draining it. She wiped her mouth and turned to the winter elf. "Let's dance."

    She took his hand and stood. A large gathering was already in the center of the hall, dancing and spinning in joyous glee. "What!" Tamric yelled, resisting. "No! Just tell me what I asked you dumb sprite!"

    En ignored him, joining the crowds of dancing fairies, elves, and spirits, and dragging the prince along behind her. All around them, the music swelled. Renark chuckled from where he sat at the table and sipped from his goblet.


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue]     The spring fairy court in Claisi has disappeared without a trace. Rumors abound, and many grow worried. How could such a thing occur? Fear is a very real disease...
    [Issue] Many fairy and elf nobles wish for Lord Renark to take a queen. Renark himself has no desire to, but as overking he is duty-bond to listen to the lords under his rule. He has put off the matter successfully so far, but only time will tell how long that will last.



    @CommanderBlade
    (3) The Wild King of the South


    Oh they speak much of the Ogre Prince and the Lord of Mt. Rulaun, but what know ye of the Wild King? There are no 3 Wise Beast Kings without Fengar, a proud and powerful king if there ever was one. His wrath was feared above all else, but he was a brave and clever ruler who won over with words what he couldn't with iron. But what they don't tell you, and what I will impart on you now, is that Fengar the Wild King embodies that of the monster tribe more than any other of the great beasts. For the children of the dark were born hated, as was Fengar in his own father's court. And the children of the dark were banished and shunned, as was Fengar from his tribe. And the children of the dark found their way to a new land, and a new destiny, as did Fengar. And thus was his kingdom formed in the Haden Wood, and though none can name nor remember his father, all in Ulfyre know of the Wild King and his deeds...








    King Fengar roared, his voice echoing around the dirt and stone courtyard. He was naked save for a loincloth and a golden band around one of his massive biceps. The monster charged forth, meeting an ogre in the center of the courtyard. The impact of the two large bodies threw the dust on the stone outwards in a circle. Several beast maidens and officials clapped as Fengar grappled with his opponent. The courtyard was lined columns, archways, and a few balconies. In one of the larger ones was Ozymanna, the great serpent. He laid on a bed of giant cushions, curled up next to a wide bowl of wine. Beast maidens fanned him with large fans. The serpent closed his eyes as Fengar roared again and picked up his opponent. The courtyard shook as the ogre was thrown to the ground.

    "Guhhh," a voice said, drifting through the balcony. Ozymanna opened his eyes to see Kee'Ah staggering through the entry. The harpy paused to wince and pick a twig from her feathers, then continued on towards the bowl of wine. Ozymanna quickly lifted from the pillows and curled around it.

    "Get your own," he said with a teasing smile.

    Kee'Ah smacked him with a wing, then clamored over the giant serpent and slid into the wine like a bath. "Ahhh," she said, leaning forward to sip from it. "Much better."

    "Why must you insist on drinking my drinks," Ozymanna said. Though his tone was stern, a small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. As long as he had known Kee'Ah, he could be no more angry at her than he could his own sister. Which, he very much could get angry at siblings, but regardless, he and the harpy were close. Or at least, as close as a refined serpent and a crass bird woman could be.

    "Somehow your wine always tastes better," Kee'Ah said, floating atop the bowl with her wings spread out.

    "You look like shit."

    "I woke up in a bush."

    "Hm," Ozymanna said. "You shouldn't get so wild at night. You'll live longer."

    Kee'Ah dismissed him with a lazy gesture of her wing. A sheep beast maid named Cleesee entered the balcony carrying several jugs. She scowled upon seeing the harpy. "By all that's sacred Kee'Ah! What have I told you about swimming in master Ozymanna's bowls! You get wine all over the floor and it sticks to your feathers and-"

    "Oh gods," Kee'Ah said, covering her face with a wing. "Send the sheep girl away Ozymanna, I can't deal with her shrill voice this early."

    "It's almost noon," Ozymanna said, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

    King Fengar roared again. This time his bellow filled the courtyard and drew all eyes to him. The monster lifted the ogre above his head, then slammed him down with all his might. The balcony and stone columns shook. The ogre went limp. Fengar clasped his hands and raised them in victory. The onlookers cheered.

    "What's that make now," Kee'Ah said, still floating in the bowl of wine. "Ninety victories?"

    Ozymanna peered down into the courtyard. "I don't think he's ever lost."

    Cleesee approached the bowl, set down the jugs, then picked up a towel and began whipping Kee'Ah with it. "Out out!"

    "Damn you!" Kee'Ah said, shielding herself. She flapped out of the bowl and perched on Ozymanna's coiled scales. "You fluffy bitch, know your place!"

    "Mhm-hm," Cleesee said, picking feathers out of the wine. "Just stay up there until you dry, master Ozymanna can deal with you."

    "Kee'Ah!" Fengar bellowed. He stared up at them from the courtyard, a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Beast servants surrounded him, wiping off his sweat. "And Ozymanna. Good, you're both here. Come down and meet me in my court. I have much to discuss."

    Ozymanna uncurled and easily lowered himself down from the balcony into the courtyard. Kee'Ah rode him down, kicking her feet against his body as she would a horse. "Stop that," the serpent muttered.

    "Faster!" Kee'Ah exclaimed.

    Fengar turned and walked towards a large archway, his servants following. "Listen well," the king said, his deep voice rumbling from his throat. "I've heard word that the deathshrooms are beginning to stir again, and the northern war herds are gathering under a new chieftain. Haden wood needs to be a land of peace. I cannot have these pests in my territories."

    "Simple matters really," Ozymanna said. "They will not be hard to root out." His tongue forked out of his mouth as his massive body snaked through the archway. He, Kee'Ah, and the king entered the bone hall of the town of Bathan Rula, the center of Fengar's Kingdom.

    "Even still," King Fengar said, wiping his brow with the towel he carried. "I treat nothing that opposes me as minor. If not now, then soon, these woods must be mine."

    Kee'Ah slid off Ozymanna and landed next to the serpent. The harpy bowed low. "Just say the word my king, we'll do what needs done!"

    "Hm," King Fengar said. He settled into his throne, accepting a goblet from a servant. "Good. Because there are other things that have caught my attention. It will be a long meeting."

    Kee'Ah stomach growled. Ozymanna glanced at her with his teasing smile. Fengar rolled his eyes and gestured. Servants came forth with food.

    "Now listen carefully," Fengar said, leaning forward in his seat. "And let me tell you once more of the dream I hold for my lands."


    Issues and Events:
    [Issue]     The deathshrooms are stirring. Though they haven't grown aggressive yet, they were witnessed standing along the edge of the herding-way road and mimicking travelers' voices. This is a sign they will soon grow hostile.
    [Issue] The settlements of Curyur and Ruthol are feuding. Curyur serves Lord Fengar, but Ruthol does not. Things are starting to turn violent, but there is a chance they can still be resolved with peace and words. The issue is over a wild satyr child who is allegedly invincible, and both tribes claim as their own adopted champion.



    @TheShadowOfZama
    (4) The Enchanter of the Western Marsh


    Never did I think you would go so far Johade. The others yes, but not you. Fools the lot of you. Unearthing that thing, bringing it out of its tomb. How lucky we were that its kin stayed buried. How many centuries did your forefathers fight them? How many sons were sacrificed to ensure the dead of Ulfyre stayed dead? And after all that time, all that bloodshed, you and the so-called noble protectors of Lehvant undo it all. And for what? For what reason did you dig deep under the new capital and break open the prison crypts? For revenge? For the glory of a kingdom that no longer exists? Leave such deeds to the Welh. You were better than them. You were supposed to be better than them. All of them But you were just as weak in the end. And now you serve a new master. No more Lehvant kings for you Johade, oh no. You and all the remnants hiding in the stinking Brettin Bogs can bend the knee to that thing. And as for me, I am done with Ulfyre. I can not bear to watch others reap what you and your brethren have so thoughtlessly sown...



    Five Years Ago
    Deep in the Brettin Bogs    ​


    The undead shuffled through swampy waters. Their movements sent out gentle waves along the surface of the bog. Black birds took off as the mass of skeletons and rotting flesh neared, only to settle down in the distance and watch. A handful of men rode horses at the head of the column. They were dressed in muddy cloaks and worn leather. Their faces were hardened from years spent in the swamps, and their backs hunched from searching its waters for food. Each of them carried a spear or a bow. They were scouts for the warband, though there was no need to ride ahead of the skeleton warriors. They could see for miles in every direction, and it was only the endless Brettin Bogs. Ahead of them floated a ghostly figure. It sometimes veered to the left, or the right, but also drifted back, as if realizing its mistake. The figure was Johade's Daughter, the banshee.

    "Why do you think she floats ahead of us," one of the men muttered. He had two cloves stuck in his nose, to keep back the smell of the dead behind them. The others didn't. They had each gotten used to the smell a long time ago, each in their own way.

    "Dunno," another man said with a slight shrug. He was attempting to wax his bowstring while atop his horse, but the jerking motions made it difficult. "Maybe she thinks herself better than us?"

    A third man snorted. "Na na, can't you hear? Listen."

    The men fell silent. There was no noise from the undead warriors behind them, save the slosh of their bodies through the bog. After a moment the wind picked up, carrying with it soft notes and a lilting tone. The first man furrowed his brow in confusion. "The wight is...singing?"

    The third man nodded. "Aye, she does that when she thinks no one is listening."

    The others shuddered. "Don liek that," one of them said. "She a' cursing us?"

    The others clasped their nose in the sign of the bog prayer.

    "I don't think she is," the third man said. He rubbed his chin as he gazed ahead at the banshee. "Perhaps she simply likes to sing..."

    "Well she's no good," another man said, spitting from atop his horse. "Cannae even get the tune right."

    The others chuckled. "Let her practice!" one called. "Or else we'll suffer more later!" The laughter rose. The undead continued to walk in silence behind the riders.

    Ahead of the gathering, Johade's daughter grew quiet as the wind carried the laughter to her. She wasn't sure what they were laughing at, but she was worried it was possibly her. The banshee shook her head. No, that was silly. Nobody just laughed at someone else like that. Johade's Daughter concentrated ahead on the horizon. The swamp went on endlessly. It filled the banshee with a strange meloncholy, but also a longing she couldn't name. As if she were far away from home, and needed to go back.

    But that was impossible since she was a banshee, and couldn't remember anything from before she woke up among the reeds and willows. The only way she could make sense of her feelings was to sing. The birds didn't like it, but some of the fish below her in the bog did. They swam after her in small groups, as if listening to her song. When she would stop, they'd slowly disperse. Johade's Daughter liked that. She liked that someone was listening.

    "Hagshit," one of the men said, shielding his eyes from the murky sun with his hand. They still rode a ways behind the banshee with the undead. "I see them, the bandits. In the distance, you can make out their fires."

    "You think they see us?" Another man said.

    "If not yet then soon. One of you go tell the banshee."

    The men all shared a look. "You tell the banshee. I don't want to."

    "Hell no."

    "I absolve myself."

    Everyone turned to the youngest man. He made a face. "Damn you all!" he spurred his horse ahead and cantered towards the banshee. "If she curses me," he yelled over his shoulder. "I'll come back and haunt you too!"

    Johade's Daughter heard the horse splashing through the swamp and turned. The rider slowed a stone's throw away, unwilling to come any closer. "Hey..." he said, his voice uncertain.

    The banshee didn't respond, simply staring and waiting.

    "Uh..." the man said, scratching at his neck. "We found them...the bandits..."

    Johade's Daughter stared for a few moments longer, than nodded, but more to herself than anyone else. "ok..." she murmured.

    "Do...should we..." he gestured with his bow and raised an eyebrow.

    The banshee nodded.

    "Alright..." the man said. He turned his horse away from her and whistled. The men nodded from where they waited by the undead. One of them took out a horn and blew it. A low, mournful note echoed out across the Brettin Bogs. Suddenly the undead warriors straightened up. They began to tremble. Johade's Daughter floated towards them. They skeletons turned to her, their eyes heating up like coals. The banshee paused, then pointed in the direction of the bandits.

    Without a word the undead warriors began sprinting through the waters. The men on horses brought up the rear. The one with the horn blew it again.

    Johade's Daughter was left with the youngest rider. She began floating after the warband. "Hey!" the rider said, spurring his horse. "Wait up!"

    He fell into trot through the waters next to her. The banshee didn't understand why. Most kept away from her. This one had up until a moment ago. She secretly glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then understood why. The young man was shaking atop his horse. It was clearly his first battle. Johade's Daughter continued floating. The sounds of fighting erupted as the undead clashed with the bandits. The young man began to tremble harder as he rode his horse towards the din. The banshee glanced at him one more time, than began to sing. Together they drew near to the melee. A few minutes later Johade's Daughter released a scream that burst the heads of three bandits. The young man took an arrow to the leg, but managed to trample a foe.


    Now
    ​
    Johade's Daughter floated through the town of Mosshelm. She was accompanied by four mortal warriors, men who had decided to serve her over the years. Among them was a young man, now a man man, she had met in a battle many years past. He walked with a slight limp where he had taken an arrow, but his spear arm was strong, and his eyes good with a bow and arrow.

    The banshee didn't mind him, or the guards. She had never spoken to them, not once save for murmured words that were barely audible. But they followed her none the less, convinced she was a good luck charm, or perhaps a ward again evil spirits. Fighting fire with fire, she had once overheard one of them say. They didn't follow her all the time, only when they were bored and restless, and felt like they should strut around. Or she was sent out by the enchanter of the Brettin Bogs. The master of all in Mosshelm.

    Johade's Daughter neared the necromancer's tower. Tower was the wrong word, as it was wider than it was tall. A mishmash of old stone buildings from the time of the Lehvant, and wooden structures tacked on without a second thought. Columns of smoke rose up from the tower's many courtyards, proof of necromantic arts within. The banshee had heard the smell was awful, but she had no way of knowing herself.

    "Ah HA!" a voice boomed. Johade's Daughter's guards shared a look, then scattered as fast as their pride would allow. They all knew who the voice belonged to. Johade, the dullahan warrior of Mosshelm.

    The banshee turned to see the massive suit of armor striding towards her. He walked proudly, somehow cutting a noble figure even without his head. Johade stopped before his daughter and tilted forward, as if peering down at her.

    "I have been searching for you. Come! The master awaits."

    The banshee simply nodded, her gaze downcast. What could be said about her thoughts and feelings towards this dullahan who had mistaken her for his daughter? Nothing, the banshee was nothing but a wispy wight, and was well-used to this strange play she had been forced to act out for many years. She followed him, floating across the ground towards the necromancer's tower. Once inside, they were met with rushing servants, lit burners, and the sounds of chanting and labored hammering. The pair moved through the halls towards the center. The servants gave them room, none daring to meet their gaze or get in their way.

    A stone chamber guarded by an iron door took up the center. On either side of it stood two undead warriors. They turned as Johade and his daughter approached, opening the iron door. Within was only darkness. A raspy breathing echoed around them. The banshee could just make out the shadowy shape of something massive suspended in the air. It was tethered to the walls and corners by a strange thread, oozing with black smoke. The only light spilled in from the hallway beyond the stone chamber.

    "Johadeeeeee" a voice whispered. Whispered was wrong actually. The words wormed their way into the banshee's head, causing her to flinch and back away. Johade pushed her forward again with a gauntlet, sternly.

    "Master," he said, falling to one knee. Johade's daughter bowed her head.

    Whereas before the enchanter seemed amused to walk around as a man, dining and listening as a ruler would to those under him, these latter years he had retreated into his chamber, issuing decrees from inside a cocoon of necromantic arts. Only Johade and a select few others were ever allowed inside. And none knew why the enchanter remained in isolation. None save Johade and his daughter.

    In truth the enchanter had no choice. As the bear hibernates, the enchanter needed months of solitude to whisper dark words in the night that no one heard. And then he would emerge. Different. Renewed.

    "Speak Johade...what of my lands..."

    "    Things are going well master," Johade said. "Soon the entire Brettin Bogs will be under your rule."

    The dark cocoon didn't respond for a few moments. A noise built up. It took Johade's Daughter a moment to realize it was laughter. "Excellent..." the enchanter said, his words like a rasping breath. "Then listen well, you and your little ghost. I have more orders to give..."


    Issues and Events:
    [Issue]     The stores of herbs and special ingredients needed for necromancy are running low. Though the Brettin Bogs supplies most of it, the amount used is unsustainable with the amount of undead in use. Advisors suggest either turning some farmland into herb plantations, or simply planting more herb gardens.
    [Issue] With the largest bandit group in the Brettin Bogs wiped out, others have been rising up to take their place. However they were all wiped out recently. Something is out there, and it hunted down the bandits easily.


    @SteelWriter77
    (5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills


    And what do ye know of hobs and gobs and grims and bogeys? You see them in their markets at the bottom of their hills, but do you truly know of their ways? Hear now of one Ruk Goldtooth, once a slave, now a king. Him and his fast friend Runtun the giant, who wore the same chains as Ruk Goldtooth. Their journey was long and hard, and many sacrifices were made, but that is what you must understand about the goblins. There is no easy life under the earth. No warmth to be found nor fruits to be plucked. Not unless you make the fires and plant the seeds yourself. And Ruk Goldtooth did just that. For he is a smart goblin, and knows his way around a battle

    ​




    Water hissed. A weed was dropped in a bubbling pot. Two boney fingers stirred the waters, then receded back into the darkness. Three pairs of eyes peered into the pot. Watching. Waiting.

    They were hags. Gaunt, but strong with long greasy hair and piercing gazes. Their teeth were sharp, their nails long. One of the hags grunted.

    "Smells done."

    The second hag shook her head. "No, not yet."

    "Hungry." the third hag said. She sniffed and wiped her nose. "Been too long since good stew."

    The other two hags nodded in agreement. The pot bubbled.

    The first hag stirred the contents again with her nail. "S'been quiet."

    "Too quiet," the second hag said.

    "Haven't had a good stew in many years," the third hag muttered. "Not enough meat."

    "What think you of the rumors?" the first hag said, glancing at the second.

    "Cant be true," the second hag said. "Henny is the wildest of us all."

    "Craziest," the first hag said.

    The third hag sniffed the pot. "Not enough meat makes a watery stew. Who wants watery stew...no one, that's who."

    "She wouldn't serve a goblin. King or not."

    "She'd eat him, that's what she'd do."

    The third hag dipped her finger in and tasted it. "I want to eat."

    "GUESSSSS WHOOOOOOOO!" a screeching voice cried. The three hags turned just in time to watch a shape fly through the window. Henny hit the floor inside the hut and rolled to her feet. She wore a wide smile and many furs, as well as a few rings. Feathers were arranged in her hair. The hag threw out her hands and did a little jig. "It's ME! Pretty pretty Henny! Youngest and most prettiest hag sister!"

    The three other hags exchanged glances. "Eh..." the first said.

    "Hm," the second said.

    "Meh," the third said, turning back to the pot.

    Henny frowned. "What? Speak happy words! Pretty pretty Henny has returned!"

    "You wear warm furs," the first hag said.

    "Nice rings," the second muttered.

    "Stew's ready," the third said, reaching into the rafters for a hanging ladle.

    "Yes yes," Henny said, showing off her rings with a proud smirk. "Pretty pretty Henny looks even prettier now! She eats good food and sleeps in warm beds!"

    "Aye?" the first hag said, her voice holding an edge. "Tell us youngest sister, how did you manage such a thing?"

    The second hag's voice dripped with condescension "Do tell, we are so eager to hear..."

    The third hag tasted the stew with the ladle. "I'll start serving it up." She reached towards the rafters and pulled down four bowls, cradling them in her arms.

    "King Goldteeth gave them." Henny said, clutching the rings to herself. "He can give you some too...if you're quick-like and smart-like and don't eat too many goblins..."

    "Hmm," the first hag said. "So you serve a goblin king..."

    The second hag scowled. "The rumors were true."

    The third hag passed out bowls to the first two, then to Henny. "Eat up while it's hot."

    "Yes pretty pretty Henny serves a goblin king, what of it! She tells you there is good food and warm beds! Do you not want good food and warm beds?? And nice things!" she held out her hands, her rings twinkling in the firelight. "Pretty things! See??"

    The first two hags exchanged glances. The third slurped the contents of her bowl. "Well," the first hag said. "I would never serve a goblin king."

    The second hag nodded, narrowing her eyes at Henny. "I would think only a simple-minded nilly-hag would!"

    Henny grew angry, puffing out her chest and holding out her claws. "Why you...!"

    The third hag held up her bowl and threw it to the ground, shattering it. "I want MEAT damn damn DAMN! MEAT DAMN YOU! I WANT GOOD STEW!"

    Henny and the other two hags stared at her. The third hag turned to the first two. "Pack your things! We're going with Henny! I will not eat any more water stew! NO MORE YOU HEAR ME!"

    The first two, wide-eyed, slowly nodded. "Yes elder sister," the first muttered.

    The second turned and began gathering jars. "fine fine..."

    Henny turned to the third hag and grinned. The hag glared back at her. "Better be gooooooddddddd meat Henny. Good meat."

    "Yes!" Henny sang back. "Good meat for all!"




    Many miles away, Ruk Goldtooth shivered in his chair. He sat across from Runtun, playing knuckle bones with gold jewels for the bets. The giant noticed his longtime friend's movements and frowned. "Something wrong Ruk?"

    "Hm," the goblin king said, scratching his face. "Dunno. Just got a feeling like my headaches were about to grow."

    The giant nodded thoughtfully. "You should have a healer look at you."

    "Maybe," the goblin king said. He grabbed his tankard and took a swig. "Or maybe I just need to keep drinking."

    Runtun snorted, then threw his knucklebone. "You need to start winning is what you need to do. I'm about to take all your jewels."

    It was Ruk's turn to snort. He gestured behind him at a pile of gold and jewels. "What do I care. Plenty more where that came from..."

    The two both cheered their tankards together, then drained them. All around them, goblins, giants, and trolls drank and boasted.


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue]     The digging between the Yulda Valley and the Ogre Prince's domain has dislodged creatures from the deeps of the earth. They wander aimlessly towards the Yulda Valley and Goldtooth's kingdom. If not dealt with, they will surely cause problems. But there is also potential in harmlessly subduing such beasts.
    [Issue] Goblin, giant, and troll gangs have begun to form in the iron and stone mines Ruk Goldtooth supplies with workers. They are turning violent, and disrupting work. Apparently there is a vibrant black market for what lies in the ground. They must be dealt with eventually, before their activities grow too blatant.





    @Zedalb
    (6) The Northern Ogre Prince
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    Ah, the second of the 3 Wise Beast Kings, the Ogre Prince. Oh, he was a clever one, that ruler. Quick to smell a good deal and even quicker to bring down the hammer on anything that displeased him. Funny, the legacy of the monster tribes. Shunned, hated, but they endured. And in Ulfyre, they prospered. For all know of the 3 Wise Beast Kings, and the kingdoms they built. Strong, powerful. But none quite as like the Ogre Prince. He saw things that others didn't, thought in ways his enemies could not. And there is nothing more terrofying than an intelligent ogre...





    "Saya," the ogre prince said. He sat atop his throne, in a bone hall laden with gleaming weapons and other metalcraft. Sitting at tables all around the hall were harpies, ogres, beastmen, and other monsters. They sang and drank and boasted as several hearth roared.

    Saya the sphinx lay curled up near the Ogre Prince's throne. She rested atop several pillows. Raga snored on the steps to the throne surrounded by empty tankards. He and his fellow warriors had drank themselves into a stupor earlier, and now slept it off throughout the hall. The sphinx rose from her pillow and preened herself, then turned her piercing gaze towards the ogre.

    "Very well my prince," she said. "What would you like to hear?"

    The ogre prince inspected the contents of his goblet, peering at the bottom. He held it out for a servant to refill. "Tell me an old story. A good one. With brave warriors and great battle."

    "Hmm," Saya said. Her tail flicked behind her. "I've told you all my tales of monster glory and conquest. Perhaps an older one will do?"

    "Hm?" The ogre prince said.

    "I could tell you of the first monster. the three-faced moon eater."

    The ogre prince thought for a few moments, then gave a slight shrug. "Very well. I do not know this one."

    Saya smiled. "Few do. In the beginning, so it was said, the two-in-one, the judge and comforter, Yay-Yey, declared that none should bear children outside their tribe. For it was Yay-Yey who weighed the joy of a mother for her child against the sadness when she lost them. And it was Yay-Yey who listened to their tears on the wind and comforted their broken hearts. And it Yay-Yey who's heavenly abode housed the spirits of children born between tribes and who died in childbirth. So declared the two-in-one, that none should bear children outside their tribe and send any more tears or spirits their way."

    The ogre prince frowned. "Speak plainly Saya. I have had much to drink and do not have the ear to dicipher your flowery words."

    The sphinx's smile remained. "In the beginning the gods said that elf shall lie with elf, and dwarf, dwarf, and mortal, mortal, for the union of anything beyond that led to grief and anguish. But though the children of creation were warned, it was one of the gods who erred. They sired offspring with a great being, a creature born between the nameless place and the world, and their child was both terrifying and beautiful. And this child, proud of itself, wild and free, went about the ten lands and greeted all it saw. And it convinced some of the mortal tribes to seek out any that would have their heart, in defiance of Yay-Yey. And thus the monster tribe was born."

    The ogre prince's frown turned into a scowl. "Are you saying I exist because a man fucked a goat? I've heard that joke before, and it was only ever funny the first time..."

    Saya laughed, covering her mouth with a paw. "It is a little different than that my king. For in truth none of the unions survived, as Yay-Yey had known they would not, but the offspring of the god and the being of the earth was undaunted. So they say it ate a moon, and using the power it received, ensured that some monsters could be born. And it was hated by all the tribes and gods for its actions, and hunted down and killed. But its actions could not be undone, and the monster tribe grew."

    "The moon-eater..." the ogre prince said. "Yes, now it makes sense."

    Reega woke up with a start. "Wha! Whasshappening!" he sat up, looked around, then vomited on the steps.

    The ogre prince only gave him a passing glance, then turned back to Saya. "Hmph, it was a decent story. Now let me tell you one. Once, in a land called Aeya, powerful monsters lived in dark woods and holes in the ground. They were guests in the land, and had been told they could not leave their trees or holes, but they could eat any who ventured into their territory. All the other tribes were given similar rules, but only the monster tribe obeyed Eoin the foster-god. And they obeyed and they obeyed and they were hunted and killed and hated. And would you like to know what happened when paradise was swept up by water and storm?"

    Saya smiled again. "Do tell."

    The ogre prince smashed the armrest of his throne with a fist. "We came out of our forests and holes and joined together! And then all who preyed on us were preyed on in turn! And we made the lands from Aeya to Ulfyre and beyond run red with blood!" he beat his fist again. "THAT is the greatness of the monster tribe. Despised, but obedient. Unleashed, freed, and then made kings!"

    Saya bowed her head in reverence. "A noble fate my king."

    "Indeed," the ogre prince, settling back in his throne. He sipped from his goblet. "I grow bored. Reega, go wrestle someone."

    The ogre leapt up, as if stung by a nettle, and grinned his toothy grin. "Just wait my king! I'll rip some pigfucker APART!"

    He ran off into the crowd of monsters, than began grabbing and throwing satyrs. The ogre prince smiled. "Saya. Tell me another story. A better one this time..."


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue] The rich iron and stone industry has drawn in raiders and warbands. The roads from the mines to the Ogre Prince's kingdom are starting to grow dangerous. Strength or diplomacy will be needed to secure them once more.
    [Issue] The safety and security of the Ogre Prince's kingdom is drawing in large groups seeking to settle there. This is causing some unrest as well as a shortage of food. Eventually the problem will need to be addressed, but for now all are cowed by the elite warband that serves the kingdom.


    @Vanestus
    (7) The Eastern King Under the Hill



    youtu.be

    Lord Of The Rings - Song of Durin | Cello Cover

    Song of Durin, composed by Clamavi De Profundis, arranged & performed by Cellofrag► If you enjoy my work & want to support me, my Patreon : https://www.patre...
    youtu.be youtu.be







    There are many tales of the children of the earth and their woes. This is not one of them. Ubrim Steelshout was a good dwarf, a wise dwarf, a descendant of tragedy, as all were after the exodus. But he was taught hope and good sense, and prospered greatly for it. He was not so desperate as his kin to return to the earth and hide from the troubles of the world, and thus he did not suffer the fate of many of his brethren, trapped below and gripped by bloodlust and fear. And because of this, one could say that Ubrim Steelshout was among the first of the legendary dwarven forefathers. One who led many out of the earth and back into the world. And their descedants are greatful for it, as surely as they live and breath.
    ​



    Lord Ubrim Steelshout gazed out from the battlements of his keep in the center of Stelius. It was a dull day, with an overcast sky and a wind that rose and fell. Banners flapped and the sound of metalwork echoed off stones. The dwarven lord watched as three dwarves and two trolls were led in chains to a raised wooden gallow. A small crowd had gathered before it to watch. Five nooses, two of them extra-large, swayed in the wind.

    Snullywatch stood behind the dwarven lord, chewing on sugar grass. Gus stood next to the keep, his size allow his head to be level with the battlement. Ubrim exhaled, then took out a pipe and began to load it. A nearby servant rushed to assist, but the dwarf waved her away. "Be off with you, I can do it myself."

    Snullywatch sniffed and approached the battlements. He stared at the dwarves and trolls being led up to the gallows. "Bad business this. What madness leads them to act in the way they do, killing and reaving out there in the hills."

    "Madness," Ubrim said, puffing on his pipe. "No, that is the lot of the elves and fairies. We kin of the earth are shamed beyond that. Those down there gave into fear, which is a bedfellow of hate, and that led to bloodshed. And though they commited such acts outside my law, they will still be judged under it."

    Gus snorted, his tail whipping behind. He was clearly bored.

    "Yes yes," Ubrim said. "Patience my old friend. This will be done soon."

    The stools were kicked out from under the prisoners, and four necks broke. The fifth, one of the trolls, dangled there. Snullywatch rolled his eyes. "Too stupid to know he was supposed to die."

    "Guess we'll have to wait a bit longer," Ubrim said, puffing on his pipe.

    Gus snorted a second time. He ambled over, forcing the crowd of onlookers to part before him. The giant ox stopped in front of the gallows and nudged the hanging troll with a hoof. The troll struggled in the noose. Gus frowned, then turned around and kicked him. The force of the impact turned the troll to a bloody pulp. Bits of guts splattered the tannery behind the gallows. The crowd stared, wide-eyed. After a beat they erupted in cheers. Gus bowed his head, then ambled back over to the battlements.

    Ubrim shook his head. "Well, at least justice was done for those whose loved ones were murdered."

    "Cruely murdered," Snullywatch said with a frown. "Bad business that."

    "Hm, but let us speak of other things now."

    Gus and Snullywatch gathered closer. Lord Ubrim gestured out at the horizon.

    "My explorers have returned, with interesting news."

    "Hm?" Gus said, chewing on something only he knew the identity of.

    "Ruins." Ubrim said.

    "Ruins?" Snullywatch said, furrowing his brow.

    "To the north and west, and likely elsewhere. This land is littered with them, but only if you know what to look for."

    "Hm," Gus said dismissively.

    "Nay," Ubrim said, gesturing at the giant ox. "These ruins are different. Ancient. Before the glory of Aeya, or perhaps part of it. But dangerous too."

    "Interesting," Snullywatch said, rubbing his chin.

    Gus raised an eyebrow, then nodded in agreement. He quickly went back to chewing.

    Issues and Events
    [Event]     Ancient ruins have been discovered in the north and west. They promise riches untold, but also great danger. Exploring either locations will require careful planning and extensive logistics.
    [Issue] The lands surrounding Stelius are best by banditry and murder, perpetrated by bands of dwarves and trolls. Order must be brougt somehow, before merchants start avoiding the area.




    @The Villain
    (8) The Horned King of the Southern Crag
    youtu.be

    Story Of The Dark Crystal

    Provided to YouTube by Universal Music GroupStory Of The Dark Crystal · Daniel PembertonThe Dark Crystal: Age Of Resistance, Vol. 1℗ 2019 Maisie Music Publis...
    youtu.be youtu.be


    Ah, the 3rd Wise Beast King, Haraltain, king of the mountain, lord of the cave, ruler over all of beak and feather. And many more. Few can understand the mind of such a tazaan. For where others toiled and died, Haraltain saw opprotunity and promise. What had he seen? How had he been reared? To know what he knew, and to believe what he believed. And lo did the monster tribes prosper under him. Yes, truely the 3rd of the Wise Beast Kings, but not the least in the slightest. Above all else, he organized his kingdom like a feteraht board, and his pieces grew great in number through the years.
    ​




    Heccafet stared out over the great gathering of tazaan lords. It was the same meeting they held every month, where all could come and voice their compalints. The spider woman was alone, neither the king nor Druug with her. The only others on the stone stage built into the cave were a few kingly officials, as well as tazaan scribes. The spider woman raised her hands, signaling for silence.

    "Where's the king," one of the tazaan said. "I don't want to speak with his pet." His edged voice drew out murmurs of agreement.

    "Normally I would humor your words," Heccafet said. "But not today. The king's feastday is coming up, and much must be done in preperation. So for now, speak, and I will listen."

    The tazaan lords exchanged glances. "Very well," one of them said. "Then listen well eight-legs. I've got a lot to say..."


    Several Days Later​

    The massive cavern roared with voices. Ale sloshed from cups while beads and other precious stones were hurled down. Two harpies tore through the air, racing around a course set up near the ceiling of the cavern. Below, tazaan, cyclops, saytrs and harpies cheered and drank and celebrated. It was the feastday of King Haraltain. A time for drinking and paying tribute to all he had achieved.

    The king himself sat in a stone alcove in the wall of the cavern. Gaurds stood outside it, and within were cushions, servants, and sweet smelling fruits. Druug stood on one side of the king's chair, scratching at his gut. Heccafet, the other side. She was adorned in jewels and trinkets, and glittered in the light of the cavern. But this was nothing compared to King Haraltain. The tazaan ruler wore the spoils of a hundred tributes and tithes. All that had been offered to him by those seeking the refuge of mount Rulaun, as well as the gifts of the tribes under his rule.

    The crowd roared as the harpies made another lap. They were neck and neck, and excitment was boiling over. King Haraltain nodded, satisfied with the mood. Drugg sniffed at his fingers, then brushed them off on his loincloth. "My king," he said, his low voice echoing around the alcove.

    The tazaan ruler glanced at the cyclops. "What is it."

    "You bid me wait to give you news, but I tire of watching bird women flap around. Surely you already know who will win."

    "Hm," King Haraltain said, conceeding the point with a slight nod of his beak. "It'll be Tinny. It always is. Go ahead then, speak Druug."

    "I explored as you asked, and found something that might interest you."

    "Oh?" King Haraltain said, accepting a salted piece of meat from a servant. "A present on my feastday? You are wise Druug, to give gifts to a king. Speak then, let's hear it."

    "I found nothing to the south. But word reached me of ruins to the north, in the golden valley."

    "And?"

    "I found them to be true."

    "I could of told you that," Heccafet said. Two tazaan maidens balanced on her back, massaging the giant spider and brushing her with perfume brushes. "Anyone who has lived in Ruluan for long knows of the old cities in the golden valley. The mortal cities. Lehvanna, or whatever they called themselves."

    "Then speak up next time," Druug rumbled. He turned back to Haraltain. "I could easily explore them."

    "No you couldn't," Heccafet said. "They are dangerous, make no mistake of that. The mortals of the golden valley were tricky, and wise in their own way. They will have left something to ward off interlopers."

    The crowd roared. Everyone looked out of the alcove to see the harpy Tinny losing to the other. Haraltain arched an eyebrow and gestured at Druug. "You owe me ten blue beads. If I had been watching she would have won."

    "Hm," Druug grunted.

    "I wish to speak of something else," Heccafet said. "The mountain is growing too crowded. Too many seek its shelter. We must do something about that."

    "So carve more tunnels," Druug said.

    "Or perhaps look outside the mountain," Heccafet countered.

    "We'll find something."

    Heccafet shook her head. "No, I've been meeting with the tazaan lords. During the last great gathering, too many complained. The tunnels are growing dangerous. Monsters are dissapearing in the night. It cannot go on."

    King Haraltain raised a finger, silencing them both. "Later, I've been looking forward to this race. We'll discuss ruins and expansion afterwards."

    Druug and Heccafet nodded, then turned to stare out of the alcove. In the cavern, a gryphon and sphinx prepared to race.


    Issues and Events:
    [Event]     Ruins have been discovered north of Rulaun. They likely hold Lehvant treasures, but are also likely boobytrapped. Caution must be used when exploring them.
    [Issue] Rulaun is growing overcrowded with tribes seeking a home there. Banditry is rising, and the tazaan lords under Haraltain are beginning to complain. Order must be brought, or the issue addressed in some other way.



    @Cosmo Rat
    (9) The Northern Horse Lord
    youtu.be

    LE_MYSTERE_DES_VOIX_BULGARES_VOL.1 - PILENTSE PEE

    THE MYSTERY OF THE BULGARIAN VOICES VOLUME 1
    youtu.be youtu.be
    ​
    "Dance like the river otter with its fish when in the company of friends- but remember the otter has its own fangs that caught its own fish to begin with."

    Old Khavalian Proverb.

    Ah Khavalia. Like a falcon without a nest, that tribe. Driven from the north to settle in Ulfyre, they grew strong again after losing their homeland. They learned from their mistakes, and prepared for the tide that would sweep in from beyond their borders. Yes, Khavalia had found its nest. And it would never let go of what it had gained again.
    ​




    Four Years Ago
    The fortified settlement of Panem, along the Yunifer river.     ​

    Smoke clouded the sky. It rose in great columns from the burning bonfires that littered the field. Men screamed and horses whinied. Arrows whisked through the air. A group of Khavalian riders burst through a burning bonfire and ran down a group of fleeing warriors. Their screams joined the air with the others. The bonfires crackled and collapsed in on themselves, sending up new plumes of smoke.

    Princess Kayala stood in the middle of a field of corpses. Her armor was dented, her helmet barely holding to her head. In her bloodstained hand she held a bloodstained sword. Her gaze was fixed to the sky, where the smoke gathered. Her expression was calm, though her face was as smeared as the rest of her skin. One of the corpses nearby shifted. A man groaned, then lifted himself from the ground. A moment later, a spear struck him and pinned him back to the earth. The Khavalian warrior who held it drove it in further, then twisted the weapon to ensure the man was dead. The warrior looked back up at Kayala.

    "Princess."

    She blinked, then turned away from the sky. "What is it."

    "We're almost done here."

    The princess didn't respond for a moment. Her eyes cleared, and she returned to the present. She turned to the warrior, as if seeing him for the first time, then nodded with a small smile. "Excellent. Let us return to my father and tell him the good news. He will be proud."


    Now
    ​
    A mighty ship, long with a carved prow, slipped through the waters of the river Lieg. Sigrid Falcun stood near the front, his hand resting on the wooden railing. His eyes followed the horizon, waiting for the town of Aelita to appear. It would mean he was home, after four long years of waging war. Behind his ship were six others. They all held warriors, as did his. Jutten mercenaries and Khavalian warriors. Vetrans of many battles. Proven in both valor and skill. There was room for the horses as well. They were just as important.

    Segrid exhaled and rotated his shoulder. He felt an old spear wound, but chose to ignore it. Nothing could dampen his readiness to arrive at Aelita. It was not his true home. No, that lay north, in other lands. But he had come to accept it as the new captial of his king. It would do. They were rebuilding, after all.

    The first of the towers came into view. Framed against a great mountain, the settlement was bustling with merchant ships and pack animals. Sigrid could make that much out already. Their ships neared, and horns went up in the settlement. Sigrid signaled one of his warriors. They blew their own horn, answering back. Now Aelita would know he had returned.

    The docks were filled with onlookers and warriors as the ships neared. They cheered and called out, eager to hear news of the battles and conquests. Sigrid waved to them, then threw a rope towards the men waiting on the docks. They caught it and quickly secured the rope to the moorings. Each of the seven ships was docked, then the warriors spilled out. Handshakes, hand clasps, hugs, cheers, boasts. Sigrid enjoyed himself as he waded through the crowds. His warriors followed behind him.

    Beyond it was Aelita proper. Merchants stood at stalls bartering with and yelling at customers. Oxen and horses crowded the dirt roads. The smell of leather and spilt ale was everywhere. Sigrid smiled.

    He was home.

    A collection of warriors marched towards him from the keep. They all wore fine colored cloaks, shiny mail, and plumes upon their helms. Sigrid came to a stop and studied them. His smile grew. "Morden, is that you you old daft badger?"

    One of the warriors, a shorter man with broad shoulders and a generous white mustache, smiled back. "Aye it's me you dammed sellsword. Come to collect you and bring you proper-like to the king. Pomp and ceremony, as they like it."

    "As they like it," Sigrid said, nodding in agreement. "Well, you didn't have to come far. I was heading to you." he fell into step beside the warrior. Together the two groups headed for the keep. "How is he, the blood-thirty tyrant?"

    Morden laughed. "Still thirsty of course. Eager to make these lands home. He'll have much to say to you Sigrid Falcun. I don't imagine you'll be here long before he sends you back out to battle and glory."

    "I should like a good meal and bath first. Haven't had either in almost a year."

    "And you'll have it," Morden said, clapping him on the back. "After your audience of course."

    "Of course."

    The two fell into silence as they neared the keep. All around them the settlement seethed with activity. The air filled with noise.

    "How is she?" Sigrid said, breaking the silence as they walked.

    "Who," Morden said, his voice low.

    "You know who. Princess Kayala. I haven't seen her in a few years. Is she still sewing and dancing and charming the merchants of Khavalia to ruin?"

    Morden shook his head, his voice dropping even lower. "No Segrid...not at all..."

    "Hm?" the mercenary captain said, glancing at his old friend.

    "Her father sent her out. To lay claim to the lands near the east. A little after you left. She changed out there. Battles happened. Hard ones, battles that required a clever mind. And she proved adept at it. She no longer dances. Not without a sword in her hand."

    Sigrid fell silent. The climbed the steps towards the keep, where two warriors held open the doors. "I see..." Sigrid said. "So she has truely become a Khavalian then..."

    Morden paused on the steps and turned to Sigrid, resting a hand on the captain's shoulder. "Prepare yourself. A few more things than just our lovely princess have changed. I spoke truely when I said our king is thirsty. He sees bountiful land, and a need for a stern hand to rule it. And the wealth is starting to flow as it did in the old land."

    "Gods help us all," Sigrid said. He nodded, grasping Morden's shoulder as Morden grasped his. "Very well, I understand. Take me to the king."


    Events and Issues
    [Issue]     The merchants of Khavalia desire the gold and precious stones of the Yulda Valley Kings. They've petitioned the king to establish a trade agreement with the goblin kingdom, and secure safe passage to and from the Yulda Valley.
    [Issue] Various groups are migrating towards Khavalia for the promise of safety and strong trade. Their arrival however is draining the kingdom's food stocks, and many are going hungry. The merchants have urged the king to seek out another kingdom that grows abundant food and establish a trade deal with them, as well as securing safe passage.
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Alright, and with that whopper of an update, I am officially done with my traveling (well almost, give or take a few hours) and back on a bit more of a crazy schedule. But, have no fear, the game continues.

    Now, with that being said, a few notes. You'll notice I didn't include any combat. I used everyone's combat to experiment with my new stat increase, and some won, some lost, but overall I think it works. I didn't include it though because it's a lot of work to write up and honestly I'm pretty tired right now and need to nap for a few days.

    But before I repost in the ICC thread, or take actions, or anything else, send me your units and how many you have, if you haven't already done so. Before anything else happens I want to redistribute their stats.

    Also, we're getting to a point in the game where I traditionally lag behind keeping up with what everyone's been doing and building and plotting. Please be patient with me, as I have 9 players I have to communicate with. But what would be even better is if you guys keep track of things, freeing me up to concentrate on other aspects of the game. Also, if I seem to be forgetting something, or missed something, remind me. I will address it if I forgot it.

    Other than that I can't think of anything else, I'll keep you guys posted with updates and unit upgrades.
     
    Turn 7: A Historical Perspective
  • Threadmarks
    • Ulfyre

    200 A.E.
















    @I just write

    (1) Sorceress of the Riverlands​





    Kingdom of Faydelyne Early History​

    193 - 194 A.E

    Educational system established, land reforms begun

    195 -197 A.E

    Iron industry and ironworks established, land reforms continued, Kline Treaty of 97' signed with river conclaves

    198-199 A.E

    Education system expanded, Esmur Academy of the Higher Arts founded, Rulsin and Orphas annexed through treaty, warbands raised
    ​
    199 A.E

    Population of Olgatha riverlands begins to swell. Weaponmaking smithies begin to pop up all around Esmur. Ironworking traditions grow


    Events and Issues:
    <Success!> Bellonie has dealt with the issue of a growing population, both by establishing a basic common law and building shelters. Esmur has grown from a [Settlement] to [Town], and may support an additional warband
    <Success!> Isov has resolved the River Conclave succession crisis, using a clever trick with wine, good song, and enough poison to kill a troll. The new conclave council that was established afterwards has offered a band of [Pirate Raiders] to serve the kingdom in gratitude for the favorable outcome


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Scholarly Tradition [Superior]
    >Army [Equivalent]
    >Agriculture [Equivalent]
    >Iron Mining [Equivalent]
    >Metalworking [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Equivalent]






    @JbeJ275

    (2) The Elf Lord of the East​





    Kingdom of Loamweld Early History​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Samiira Glittering Hall expanded, warbands raised, conflicts with Kline pirate enclaves begin.

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Conquest of inner Greshnere begins, mostly bloodless. Rediscovery of Elven magic traditions begun as well.

    198 A.E

    Conquest of inner Greshnere continues, horse husbandry developed

    199 A.E

    Magical traditions further developed, mounted warrior traditions begun


    Events and Issues:
    <Success!> En has found the remnants of the spring fairy court in Claisi, including two surviving members of the royal fairy family. Apparently they were ambushed by elf and dryad slavers, with many of them captured. En could find no trace of the interlopers, though it is likely they came from the east. The surviving spring fairy prince and princess swore fealty to En for finding them, and therefore by extension, Lord Renark.
    [Issue] Many fairy and elf nobles wish for Lord Renark to take a queen. Renark himself has no desire to, but as overking he is duty-bond to listen to the lords under his rule. He has put off the matter successfully so far, but only time will tell how long that will last.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Magical Traditions [Superior]
    >Cultural Traditions [Superior]
    >Army [Equivalent]
    >Mount Breeding [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Superior]





    @CommanderBlade

    (3) The Wild King of the South    ​




    Kingdom of Wyldclaw Early History​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Warbands raised, Quelog hill-lands consolidated through early Baccanate law

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Warband bolstered, Calayha-Wyldclaw war is briefly fought, iron and agriculture traditions begin

    198 A.E

    Iron and agriculture reforms begin, further establishing Baccanate law traditions

    199 A.E

    Metal-working traditions established


    Events and Issues:
    <Success!>     After a stunning pitched battle uncharacteristic for the time period, King Fengar's warbands beat back the deathshrooms then pursued them in a route. The creatures born of necromancy were hacked down to a shroom in the ensuing chase. [Lehvant Ruins] were discovered where the deathshrooms were nesting, and an emancipated hermit that claims to be a master tradeworker has sworn fealty to King Fengar
    [Issue] The settlements of Curyur and Ruthol are feuding. Curyur serves Lord Fengar, but Ruthol does not. Things are starting to turn violent, but there is a chance they can still be resolved with peace and words. The issue is over a wild satyr child who is allegedly invincible, and both tribes claim as their own adopted champion. [Update] Kee'Ah grew impatient with the feuding villages and demanded everything be settled with a trial by combat. Entered herself without telling anyone, suprised the two opposing village chieftians, and fought so viciously it turned into a massive drunken brawl between hundreds of participants. Things didn't settle until morning when the fires died down. Issue still unresolved.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Agriculture [Superior]
    >Army [Equivalent]
    >Iron Mining [Equivalent]
    >Metalworking [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Equivalent]




    @TheShadowOfZama

    (4) The Enchanter of the Western Marsh



    Kingdom of Carthule Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Agriculture reforms begun, warbands raised

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Warbands bolstered, Conquest of Brettin Bogs begins

    198 A.E

    Lumber and fletching industries established, conquest of Brettin Bogs continues

    199 A.E

    Iron-mining tradition established, warbands bolstered


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue]     The stores of herbs and special ingredients needed for necromancy are running low. Though the Brettin Bogs supplies most of it, the amount used is unsustainable with the amount of undead in use. Advisors suggest either turning some farmland into herb plantations, or simply planting more herb gardens. [Update] Johade's Daughter tried and failed to plant a garden. The banshee then tried and failed to get others to help her plant a garden. It started raining. Things weren't going her way. She decided to head home and try again tomorrow. Issue Unresolved.
    <Success!> Johade led his forces out into the bogs and discovered undead horses were ambushing and eating the bandit groups. The undead horses were evidently quite hungry, and traveled in large herds through the mists like taller, lankier wolves. Johade and his warriors rounded them up, which proved to be a harrowing experience. All in all the dullahan captured a sizeable herd of [Undead Mounts], enough for two warbands at least.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Agriculture [Superior]
    >Army [Superior]
    >Lumber Industry [Equivalent]
    >Iron Mining [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Equivalent]





    @SteelWriter77

    (5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills


    Kingdom of Gidorah Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Consolidation of the Yulda Valley goblin kingdoms begins, warbands raised

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Consolidation of Yulda Valley continues, new fortifications begun. Gold and gem mines established, Hrodar-Gidorah trade-deal struck

    198 A.E

    Agricultural reforms started, metal-working established

    199 A.E

    Wolf-breeding tradition started, Yulda Valley continues to be annexed into Gidorah


    Events and Issues:
    [Issue]     The digging between the Yulda Valley and the Ogre Prince's domain has dislodged creatures from the deeps of the earth. They wander aimlessly towards the Yulda Valley and Goldtooth's kingdom. If not dealt with, they will surely cause problems. But there is also potential in harmlessly subduing such beasts.
    <Success!> Runtun has pacified the goblin gangs and the thriving black market for stone and iron. In the process, he replaced them with overseer gangs who keep order among the workers. [Loyal Organized Crime] has been established.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Army [Superior]
    >Precious Metal Mining [Superior]
    >Agriculture [Equivelant]
    >Fortifications [Equivalent]
    >Metal-Working [Equivalent]
    >Mount-Breeding [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Superior]





    @Zedalb

    (6) The Northern Ogre Prince



    Kingdom of Hrodar Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Stone industry traditions started, warbands raised

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Warband strengthened, stone industry established, iron industry established, Hrothgar-Gidorah trade deal established, Woslayh conquest begun, fortifications begun

    198 A.E

    Fortifications completed, lumber industry established

    199 A.E

    Metal-working tradition established

    Events and Issues:
    <Success!> Reega the Eager led his elite ogre warband up and down the roads leading to the Hrodar mines. In no less than three seperate occassions he encountered raiders and engaged them. Mistaking his forces for fellow raiders, the enemies were just as eager as Reega to beat back their rivals. However they quickly discovered they were no match for the sudden, powerful charges and line clases of the Hrodar forces, and each engagement ended in an route for the enemy and victory for Reega and his warriors. A [Side Outcome] has been incurred (inquire within)
    <Success!> Saya implemented new farming tools into the existing Hrodar farms. It is a temporary measure, but effective for now. The [Settlement] of Pegohrah has grown into a [Town], and can now support an additional unit


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Stone Mining Industry [Superior*]
    >Iron Mining [Superior*]
    >Army [Equivalent]
    >Fortifications [Equivalent]
    >Lumber Industry [Equivalent]
    >Metal-Working [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Superior]





    @Vanestus



    (7) The Eastern King Under the Hill







    Kingdom of Argaul Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Land surveyed, warbands raised

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Part of Fienland annexed into Argaul, Iron and Stone mining industries established

    198 A.E

    Metal-working tradition established

    199 A.E

    Fortifications started, warband raised


    Issues and Events
    [Event] Ancient ruins have been discovered in the north and west. They promise riches untold, but also great danger. Exploring either locations will require careful planning and extensive logistics.
    <Success!> Gus the giant oxen has lead the Argaul warbands to deal with the bandits. In several small midnight raids, the dwarven, human, and troll forces completely wiped out several bandit camps, clearing the hills of the Feinland. Due to safety of the area, the [Settlement] of Stelius has grown into a [Town] and can now support an additional warband.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Stone Mining Industry [Equivalent]
    >Iron Mining [Equivalent]
    >Army [Equivalent]
    >Fortifications [Equivalent]
    >Metal-Working [Equivalent]
    >Territory [Inferior]

    >Agriculture [Pending*]







    @The Villain



    (8) The Horned King of the Southern Crag







    Rulaun Kingdom Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Administrative reform begun

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Warband raised, consolidation of Rulaun begun, agricultural reform begun

    198 A.E

    Mt. Rulaun tribes rapidly annexed and formed into Kingdom of Rulaun, architecture tradition founded

    199 A.E

    Military reforms begun


    Issues and Events:
    [Ongoing Event]     Ruins have been discovered north of Rulaun. They likely hold Lehvant treasures, but are also likely boobytrapped. Caution must be used when exploring them.
    [Issue] Rulaun is growing overcrowded with tribes seeking a home there. Banditry is rising, and the tazaan lords under Haraltain are beginning to complain. Order must be brought, or the issue addressed in some other way.


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Cultural Traditions [Superior]
    >Administrative Traditions [Superior]
    >Agriculture [Equivelent]
    >Army [Inferior]
    >Territory [Superior]








    @Cosmo Rat

    (9) The Northern Horse Lord



    Khavalian Kingdom Early History    ​

    193 A.E - 194 A.E

    Khavalian Exchange established, mercenaries gathered

    195 A.E-197 A.E

    Conquest of Kaperin Plains and Yunifer Riverlands begun, Khavalian Exchange traditions expands with it

    198 A.E

    Fortifications established along the Kaperin Plains and Unifer Riverlands. Khavalian conquest of these regions continues.

    199 A.E

    Kaperin Plains completely annexed under the Khavalian banner.


    Events and Issues
    [Issue]     The merchants of Khavalia desire the gold and precious stones of the Yulda Valley Kings. They've petitioned the king to establish a trade agreement with the goblin kingdom, and secure safe passage to and from the Yulda Valley.
    [Issue] Various groups are migrating towards Khavalia for the promise of safety and strong trade. Their arrival however is draining the kingdom's food stocks, and many are going hungry. The merchants have urged the king to seek out another kingdom that grows abundant food and establish a trade deal with them, as well as securing safe passage.
    [Event] The Khavalian Cultural Festival has begun! These days will go down in history for their revelry, but perhaps more will occur than just drinking and dancing...


    Kingdom Attributes

    >Ecomonic Traditions [Superior]
    >Army [Superior]
    >Territory [Superior]
    >Cultural Traditions [Equivalent]
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Alright, here's a quick breakdown

    What this update doesn't have due to time constraints
    -The new player maps
    -Lore
    -Upgraded Servants
    -Battle Breakdowns

    What it does have
    -Loose recap of player actions (not super accurate, but enough to give me and you all something to reference)
    -Kingdom Attributes, which let you compare yourself to everyone else and gauge each other's progress and values

    Going forward it would be a huge help if you guys waited to roll until after you've submitted and finalized orders, so I don't get terribly confused when I'm sorting through who's doing what. The exception of course being turns like this, in which I take forever to process everything and am generally lagging like crazy


    Also, before you submit orders for next turns, I'd like to do servant upgrades. Please let me know which of your servants have failed turns and what skill category they failed in, and I'll get you their new stats
     
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