Tales of Aorda (Aorda Only)

[Elvhenen]

Tales of Aorda is a private area dedicated to the members of the region of Aorda to detail the various important events occurring or have occurred in their respective countries without crowding the Regional Message Board or dedicating multiple threads to one event that doesn't pertain to Aordan (world, regional)society, politics, diplomacy, or war. Tales of Aorda is a place where all members can use the thread to detail the overthrowing of a provincial governor of your country, a battle or battles from a civil war that has already been discussed in the region, or simply a meeting between two dignitaries, lovers, or family members.

[Corthia]

Port Arthur, Eastern Corthia
1032 AVR, Closing Battles of the Elven-Human War
Midday

---

The alleyways and streets of Port Arthur's cottages were filled with chaos and disorder as countless humans fled from the incoming onslaught of the Elves, who had now controlled most of the country, creeping inwards with no defenses to stop them. With the King and his family dead and the Royal Army shattered with the deaths of Lord-General McAlister and Commander Winchester at the Battle of Galron's Blessing, Corthia was now swamped with Elven forces running amok across the country, committing genocide against those not chosen to become slaves in Elvhenen. Port Arthur, one of the few cities not occupied by the Elves, had become a launching point for ships carrying hundreds of humans who wanted to take their chances sailing across the Orthomir Sea, unknown if land was present on the other side. Ships were mainly of a single class, and not very plentiful. One by one, the few remaining ships removed their ropes and departed the worn wooden docks of Port Arthur, leaving hundreds of humans crying for a place aboard. Soldiers wearing the Royal Army garments still prepared a defense for the city with what little they could find from the abandoned city garrison headquarters.

Thomas Wyler, a former squire to one of the Earl Constables killed in the Battle of Galron's Blessing, fled his post like many others at the relief camps after word had come that Lord-General McAlister was killed, the last high-ranking general in the Royal Army. He left his armor and red garments but kept his sword at his side for protection as he came for his wife and son in Port Arthur, who relocated from Tallowsong shortly after the Elven occupation of Silverdeep. He arrived just in time to free his wife from three men trying to have their way with her on one of the market stalls in the chaos, using his superior swordsmanship to dispatch them quickly. He watched as hundreds of people fled for the docks, watching a few dozen soldiers run towards the danger, as the Elven Legions made their way through the city gates, which were left undefended in the chaos.

"Thomas!" His wife screamed out as she pointed to the other ships leaving the docks. Thomas winced as he ran to his wife, grabbed her arm and stampeded through the ranks of panicking civilians, trying to reach the docks.

Once they had reached them, he found that most of the ships had already left, making their way towards the dark, stormy clouds over the Orthomir Sea, which would surely dispatch the aging transport ships, used mainly to move supplies from one end of the country to the other, much faster than horse-drawn carriages.

A single ship remained in the docks, the word "Swiftstrider" adorned the side. It wasn't impressive by any means, a simple cargo freighter, it's sails torn, it's wood rotting. Barely capable of staying afloat it seemed. But it was there only chance to leave. They rushed through the waves of people crowding the docks to the front of the ramp, where they began walking up it.

"Nay! No more stragglers! Back down you go!" A balding old man said, raising up a rusted iron sword to face him. Thomas drew his sword to match his, sending fear into the man, who recognized it as an Army sword.

"We need aboard that ship, sir! My wife and son need aboard!" Thomas said with determination in his voice. The old man stood for a moment, eventually lowering his sword and allowing them aboard. He knew better than to dance with trained swordsman. They moved aboard, directed into the lower hold by the Swiftstrider's crew, where they were shoved into cramped compartments with other refugees. The stink that filled the hold was nearly unbearable, filled with sweat and human excrement. It was the best they could do. They felt the ship shutter as it moved away from the dock, they could hear the screams of the people on the docks, the distant sound of clashing steel growing closer, and the sound of water splashing as those left behind thought they could swim to the ships. It was for naught, as Port Arthur's fate would be sealed by the end of the night and those desperately swimming from the docks would drown. There was no escape for those left behind. They would either become a slave or be put to the sword, women and children alike.

The Orthomir Sea
3 days later

Thomas couldn't believe how the ship survived this far into their journey. The sound of thunder, pouring rain and rough tides should have been enough to tear it apart. There was tiny cracks through the wood that Thomas could peer out at, looking at the other ships following the Swiftstrider's lead. Their number had grown smaller though, from fifteen to seven.

His son, Levon, a boy of only two, was finding it difficult to get any sleep, preferring to cry out for his former comforts, now only using his mother's chest as his bedding. Thomas felt for his boy, but this was as good as it was going to get.

Five days later

Food was becoming sparse as the others down in his compartment were getting restless, preferring to fight rather than work together to split up morsels of bread the Swiftstrider's crew would throw down from the kitchens. He had already drew his sword when a man bearing a scraggly beard and big belly grew angry with Levon's crying. He placed the tip into the man's stomach and dared him to moved closer.

Twenty days later

Some had died in the journey of starvation, others of dehydration. He could hear some fighting above, the sound of sword clashing, around the fifteenth day. He determined that the crew tried to mutiny, and the Captain won. Those refugees that could help were moved out of the compartment, including Thomas and his family. Thomas was put to work as the Captain's First Mate, not because of his weak skills in navigation, but because Thomas was one of the few with training in swordfighting, and was used to protect the Captain. A glorified bodyguard. His wife and son were sent to the kitchens, where she would help cook the meals since the head chef picked up a dagger and tried to kill the Captain during the mutiny.

Twenty-six days later

They had reached land. Bright, beautiful, green hills on the horizon of a sandy beach painted in a golden hue. The storms had destroyed more ships and by their arrival, only the Swiftstrider had arrived, taking on water and it's sails ripped apart, unable to sail any further. They remaining 85 passengers of the Swiftstrider disembarked to the land using the rickety old boats strapped to the side of the ship. Thomas had become a leader in the refugee community of the Swiftstrider and led the refugees onto the new found land. It didn't take long for the indigenous peoples there to catch notice. They were swarmed by short riders, mounted on ponies, carrying golden spears, wearing golden armor. They surrounded them and pointed their spears at them, as a brave one dismounted and approached, removing his helmet. He was surprisingly more human than it seemed, bearing a large beard, much shorter than any man he knew.

The refugees arrived in the Dwarven Kingdom of Dhuramar, welcomed by a Dwarven Army border party and marched to the capital of Agarmar, where they met with the Dwarven king. Thomas was chosen to lead his people in talks with the Dwarven king and after a considerable amount of time, the Dwarven King allowed the humans to build a community in the shadow of Agarmar, a settlement called New Amaranthia. Supplied with dwarven metal and Dhuramar resources, the Corthians were able to construct a small farm, dorms, and a schoolhouse. For the next fifteen years, the humans of Corthia would call Dhuramar their home.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

First Contact
The Dwarven Kingdom of Dhuramar
and the Goblin Kingdom of Verdantderm
(a collaboration)

Port of Seramar

From the coastal watchtowers, the horns blew a deep sound, signaling to the city guards that unknown ships were approaching. The city guards, out of shape and half of them drunk, scattered to find their weapons and shields, their helmets and cuirasses, their boots and gloves and stumble to the docks, where the rudementary ships found the vacant docks, slamming into the hardened wood frame.

Guard-Captain Jerral Aeton marched to the front of the crowd that was building as the humanoid creatures came into view.

"Shields!" Screamed the Guard-Captain to his Guards. They raised their shields with swords drawn and awaited the foreigners to disembark from their ships.

---

The Verdantderm Royal Galley, 'Boldness'
Prince Carm Ynohtna

The Prince made a good show of ignoring the cold. The mammal pelts over his armor helped greatly. He wondered if the sailors were truly as impervious to the cold as they seemed.

Prince Carm looked to his right, noting the serene, and slightly satisfied, smile of his eldest sister.... No, that relationship had been supplanted with her taking the vows to the Swamp Dragon God, Sarcosuchus. The Priestess had smiled when the port city of the Pale Skins had been sighted.

Not long after that, the sound of the Pale Skin's horns echoed over the waters. Apparently, the Pale Skins had not anticipated ever encountering visitors arriving from the Southern Sea, as no ships were manned to meet them off shore. The other two galleys stopped five hundred yards from the port maintained and that position, while The Boldness continued to the dock.

The Prince had the Captain instruct the crew lower the gangway. His guard brought chests, containing scrolls to help the Pale Skins learn the Goblin language, gifts of fine linen cloth, may-haw jelly and mead. When the chests were all accounted for, the Prince and the Priestess, dressed in her white robes, made ready to disembark The Boldness.

Before leading the Priestess down the gangway, Prince Carm said, with brotherly affection, "Dear Priestess, your vision has been true and we are here. Pray to our God that the Pale Skins don't imagine us to be tasty."

The Priestess smiled back at her once-brother.

---

Seramar Docks

The Dwarves' expressions varied by each of them. Some were horrified, disgusted, slighted by the ugliness of the creatures. As they came gliding into the dock, their boat, filled with different sorts of things the Guard-Captain can only describe as crude gifts, rested gently against the darkened wood. As the creatures moved to unseat themselves from the boat, they lifted the chests to set them gently on the walkways of the dock. Guard-Captain Jerral turned to face one of his better composed sergeants, close to enough to whisper in his ear.

"Send a rider to Tyverin. I want them here by nightfall." He said before turning back. The sergeant nodded and broke formation, moving from his troop to the crowd and finally out, to the stables.

Guard-Captain Jerral approached the creatures, sword drawn and shield raised. Their sight was one of curiosity, not the disgust or fear the others felt. He moved slowly, watching their moves.

"What's your business here? You're in sovereign Dwarven territory." He said, command in his voice, but not in the same fashion as he would with his recruits, or a drunkard.

---

While not understanding the words, it seemed to Prince Carm that the leader of this band of Pale Skins was wary of them, the strangers in his lands. The Prince briefly reflected on how he might act if the situation had been reversed and did not take offense. He also looked at the Pale Skins' weapons with respect and some envy.

The Prince slowly turned to the side and raised his hands a bit above his shoulders. "Priestess", he said, please take my sword, my dagger, and hold them for me."

Solemnly, the Priestess took her once-brother's weapons from their sheaths and then stepped behind him.

Prince Carm turned back to the leader of the Pale Skins, mustering a hopeful, close-lipped smile, and slowly extended his right hand, hoping that the other would set his weapons aside and grasp his hand in friendship.

---

The Guard-Captain was utterly surprised by this act of peace from these creatures. He was wary of sheathing his weapon, but seeing as this would be the first interaction between Dwarves and whatever these creatures were, he was representing the King in this regard, and acted appropriately. He slowly sheathed his sword and racked his shield onto the magnetic strip on the back of his armor. The Guards behind them seemed skeptical and worried about his actions and remained vigilant with their shields up, one of them stumbling into the other and quickly regaining himself behind all of the Coldawn Brandy in his system.

Jerral reached out slowly, placing his hand behind his back onto the grip of the dagger strapped to the back of his belt, just in case the creature tried tricking him.

---

Prince Carm waited for the Pale Skin to grasp his hand, in friendship, he prayed. The other's hand behind his back worried the Prince. Again, the Prince maintained outward calm and imagined how wary he might have been if the Pale Skins had arrived on ships in his father's Kingdom.

Please, thought Prince Carm, holding his outstretched hand steady in spite of his nervous thoughts, let this be peaceful and let me see my beloved again.

---

Guard-Captain Jerral grasped the creatures hand, shaking it. He was surprised they used customs familiar to the Dwarves and Humans as well. Jerral nodded his head in approval as he eyed the chests and the others around him. He hoped this wouldn't come back to haunt him. These creatures gaining their trust so they could infiltrate Dhuramar and return with an invasion force from wherever they came from.

"Lower your shields." Said Jerral calmly, releasing the creatures hand. His troops slowly lowered their shields as they followed their commander's orders. Jerral knew his troops couldn't defeat a real threat anyway. If these creatures wanted a fight, half of his dwarves would be too drunk to hit accurately, and the others were simply out of practice. They wouldn't be a match for properly trained warriors.

---

Prince Carm breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to the Captain of The Boldness and ordered that a table and sturdy chairs be brought from the ship to the dock, three chairs, one for the leader of the Pale Skins, one for the Priestess and one for himself. The table was covered in a fine cloth and upon it was placed a hearty bread, a jar of may-haw jelly, spicy jerked crushing snake meat, honey wine, filtered water, utensils of tin, plates of tin and fired clay cups.

The Prince first motioned for the Priestess to sit and aided her with her chair. Then, The Prince motioned for his guest to be seated and when he had done so, seated himself.

The Priestess said a prayer over the meal, generously loaded the plates with food and filled the cups, though, for herself, she was not so generous. She gestured that they might eat started by putting some of the jelly on her bread and taking a delicate bite. Her once-brother smiled broadly at her and took a measured, but larger, more male-ish bite. Both of them hoped that this Pale Skin leader would like something about the food.

---

Jerral was astonished by the customs displayed by the creatures, who were proving to be more civilized than they first appeared to be. As they sat down for their prepared meal, they looked at him to sit as well. Jerral realized that he wasn't the one that needed to do this. There were trained dwarves in Agarmar who specialize in first contact protocols such as this. A lowly Guard-Captain from the ass-end of Dhuramar was hardly an appropriate Dwarf to represent the Kingdom. He had hoped the troops from Tyverin would arrive soon and escort these creatures to a better location, one more suitable for a situation such as this.

"I-..I'm not. You don't understand. I'm not prepared for this. I can't...." The creatures continued motioning for him to sit and while letting out a sigh, he did so. He looked at the food displayed in front of him. It didn't look disgusting, or disturbing. It looked quite nice. The cloth on top of the table was of a fine, silky material, one not seen in Dhuramar. A type of dark bread slice was placed in front of him, with a small scoop of what appeared to be a type of thick jam, an unknown meat and some liquid. Jerral was skeptical at first, but he decided it would be rude to not humor these creatures. He grasped the slice of bread and followed the female creature's lead, spreading the jam over the bread and took a bite. His face said it all.

The bread and jam was delicious! It had a burst of sweet and spicyness at first, which melded away into a fine mellow taste. The bread only complemented it.

"By the Ancestors..." He whispered, taking another bite then setting it down. He grasped his cup and drank from it, the taste of the drink turned to be just as good as the bread and jam. He set the cup down and looked at the green creatures. Nodding and letting out a slight chuckle as he wiped the residue from his thick, brown beard.

Seeing the pleased look on the Pale Skin's face, as he partook of the food, assured both the Prince and the Priestess. They both nodded and the Priestess began pointing at each food and item, one by one, and telling the Pale Skin it's name. He seemed to be understanding her. After she had named everything on the table, she pointed at herself and said, "Priestess Ailefo". Then she pointed at her once-brother and said, "Prince Carm".

Guard-Captain Jerral caught on to the the creatures naming of things and did his best to repeat and memorize what the creatures were telling him. When all the things on the table had been named, then the female pointed to herself..., the creatures' names! Jerra repeated the names and nodded his understanding and repeat the names back to them, "Priestess Ailefo" and "Prince Carm".

Jera smiled as they smiled. Briefly he wondered if he ought to give just his whole name or just his rank and common name. The latter seemed appropriate. Pointing at himself, he said, "Guard-Captain Jerral".

The trio finished the meal and arose from the table. Goblin soldiers cleared away the empty dishes and utensils, and the table and chairs.

Prince Carm called for and received two small chests. The first one he presented to Guard-Captain Jerral, indicating that it personally from him to Jera. This chest contained may-haw jelly and mead, as those things were kept in jars and bottles. With the second chest, Prince Carm indicated, with broad gestures, that it was from himself and all of his people to Guard-Captain Jerral and all of his people. The second chest contained scrolls of basic teachings of the Goblins' language and knowledge, an alphabet, a small picture dictionary and a mathematics primer.

The Priestess then brought the palms of her hands together, lifted them to the side of her face and laid her head against them, saying, "Nap". She then gave the Pale Skin a respectful bow and walked back to the ship.

The two males shook hands once more, saying each other's names. The Prince also returned to the ship, but some of his troops remained watchful at the gangway. The Guard-Captain understood that they weren't leaving just yet.

---

The Docks of Seramar
Later in the early evening

The sound of hoof stomps filled the air as the Dwarven troops from Tyverin Fortress less than three miles to the north arrived through the old stone gates of Seramar, every stamp of the hooves sounded like a war drum's beat. In total, twenty soldiers on horses arrived to investigate the message left behind by Guard-Captain Jerral's Messenger and at the head of these soldiers was Captain Galon Adorresa, second-in-command to Commander Berag Roudas of Tyverin Fortress. They made their way through the empty streets, ordered cleared by the Guard-Captain while the newly discovered creatures were "napping". Marching through the streets, they found to the Docks, where Guard-Captain Jerral and five other Guards were awaiting them, the rest dispatched to patrol the city and ensure none were breaking the curfew. Captain Adorresa was the first to dismount his war-pony, adorned with golden armor.

"Greetings, sir. Welcome to Seramar." Said the Guard-Captain.

"Where are they?" Asked Captain Adorresa in the grisly voice of a battle-hardened soldier.

"Still aboard their ships asleep. I....sat down and ate with them, sir. They seem friendly enough." The Guard-Captain informed Adorresa as they approached a single chest, as the other had been delivered to Guard-Captain Jerral's house for "safe-keeping". Jerral bent down and opened up the chest, which was filled with crisp scrolls of white parchment and books.

"It's all in their language. Seramar lacks a good linguist, therefore we haven't been able to decipher what any of it means." Said Jerral as he closed shut the chest and lifted himself from his position.

"I will have one brought in from Khemduar. It will take some time, but I believe it will be within a fortnight. What uhh.....what do they look like?" Asked Captain Adorresa somewhat skeptically. Jerral sighed and cleared his throat.

"Ahh....well, sir. They..." Jerral stopped and looked towards the ships of the foreigners.

"They're ugly, sir." He said.

"Ugly?"

"Uglier than a Dargorf's ass, sir."

"Ah. Well. Let's see if we can stir them from their nap." The Captain said.

---

The Verdantderm Royal Galley, 'Boldness',
The Port of the Pale Skins

At the gang plank, the soldiers on sentry duty took note of the activity at the dock landing.

They saw Pale Skins riding atop four legged mammals, mostly brown in color, whose backsides were as tall as the Pale Skins and whose heads stretched a foot or a foot and a half higher. Opposite the head was a tail of hair, about two to three feet long. It was hard to decide who had more hair, the beasts or their riders.

The leader of the riders wore armor of metal, with the light of the torches sparkling off of it and making it seem the color of the yellow sun. This must be a very important person!

The petty officer on watch called a soldier to go below and inform the Prince that a new Pale Skin officer had arrived, and that they looked to have great authority.

Prince Carm received the news. He awakened and said to his once-sister, "Important visitors are arriving, Priestess. Do you need much time to make yourself presentable?"

"Do you think they would take offense at giving me a half hour, Prince?" answered Priestess Ailefo.

The Prince briefly pondered and said to her, "I imagine, if I send a half-hour glass to the dock that they might indulge us that span. Also, I believe that I might change into more 'diplomatic' clothing."

The Prince took two half-hour timing glasses and turned them both over, causing the sands to fall, at a steady rate, from the top half of the glass into the bottom half of the glass. He had the soldier who had been sent to them take one of the glasses back to the dock.

At the dock, as the new Pale Skin leader arrived, the gang plank sentry gave a respectful bow to that worthy and showed him the half hour glass. He handed the glass to one of the other sentries. Then he pointed to the ship and after that made a gesture of walking his fingers on his arm and finally pointing to the dock on which they all stood. The leader seemed to understand and he and the Pale Skin the Prince had met earlier spoke briefly to one another. They were probably a little put out, after all, who wants to wait, but one had to put up with royalty more that with one's equals.

Then the two diplomats both set about making themselves presentable to someone with more authority than Guard-Captain Jerral. The Priestess succinctly washing herself with a sponge, dressing in her robes of white and arranging them carefully. The Prince dressed in linen breeches and a shirt of a medium red. Over that he wore a long coat of dark purple with piping and embroidery of white. For his feet, he wore his soldiery boots, which had been well polished. Finally, he put atop his head the princely circlet of gold, the metal in the shape of tiny ferns woven together. He declined to bring his weapons.

There was still some time left, but it would be more impressive to be early than late, so they exited the cabin. When they appeared on deck, the Prince nodded and low pitched drums sounded a relaxed and steady beat. Bagpipes then droned and played a stately song and clapper-sticks accented the drums and pipes. They arrived at the gangway and walked down, first the Prince and then the Priestess. As they stopped before this new Pale Skin, the Prince nodded and the music stopped.

Prince Carm indicated the Priestess, his once-sister, and said, "Priestess Ailefo". He indicated himself and said, "Prince Carm". Then the Prince gently put his right hand forward and offered the new Pale Skin leader a handshake.

[Elvhenen]

Caves of Derunir
The Isle of Caras Ilith (Largest Northeastern Island)

The heavy sheets of rain drenched Elwin to his core as he wrapped his soaked cloak around him as he made his way up the steep mountainside, his loyal followers stationed all around him, dressed in black robes carrying swords. Elwin's legs were burning now as the steep climb was proving to best him and after an hour long hike so far, Elwin's energy reserves were dwindling. With no shelter available anywhere nearby, his only solace was making it to the Caves of Derunir, a deep, expansive cave system found by Elwin's followers in search of the last Disciple of Galgoth. For fifty years, Elwin Miratris used his family's name to garner support deep within the underbelly of Elven society, promising wealth and fortune to most. In reality, Elwin had access to none of the Royal Family's treasury after he was banished from the Royal Family for practicing Dark Magic, a form of magic that has been outlawed since the days of the Tribes.

While promising treasure, he secretly cast spells on his followers, binding their loyalty to him. It proved effective, as a cult formed among his followers called the Stewards of Elwin, who worshiped him completely, devoting their lives to him. What began as trickery turned into blind fealty, as others pledged loyalty to him without the need for spells. By the time of the discovery of the Last Disciple, the Stewards' ranks had swelled to more than three hundred.

A torch could be seen over a hill, attached to the side of a long narrow tunnel entrance, seemingly formed either through millions of years of nature's careful tending, or by blunt, impatient magic. Followed by four of his followers, he finally entered the cave, grabbing the torch as he walked in. The interior of the tunnel was adorned with symbols drawn in crimson paint or blood. As they moved deeper through the tunnel, the darker it grew and the more wild the symbols became. The tunnel split into two directions, with a Steward standing at the crossing with a torch.

"This way, Your Majesty." Said the follower as he pointed towards the left-side tunnel. They continued walking for more than five minutes. Elwin was wondering how they ever found this man.

"How on Mithalla's world did we find this bastard in such deep caverns?" Asked Elwin to any of his followers who knew the right answer.

"A servant of the Disciple's. A boy not more than ten. He would bring sacks full of foods to him on a monthly basis. When we marched into Daer Arthis, the boy came right to us. We investigated, and after more than three days of searching, we found him sitting, deathly still and quiet. So far, he hasn't moved since we've been here. Elwin groaned in response as they stopped at a cliff, where a makeshift ladder was present, leading downwards into darkness. Elwin threw his torch down, expecting the light to hit the ground with little disturbance to the flame. To his surprise, the torch kept falling until it's light was too far away to be seen.

"Oh my...." Elwin said. One of his Stewards looked at him. "Down we go, Your Majesty." He said as he grasped the ladder, sliding down it. After what felt like an eternity of gripping and sliding down the long wooden ladder, they finally reached the ground, where two more Stewards were waiting with torches. It led to another tunnel, this one decorating with torches, illuminating the tunnel and the chamber at the end, where Elwin saw several Stewards standing around a figure, pointing spears and swords at it. When he reached it, he saw the Disciple, dressed in black, bloody robes, holding a thick book tightly. Elwin approached, motioning his followers to stand down.

"You're a hard man to find, sir." He said, confidently. The Disciple didn't respond, rather preferring to remain completely still. Elwin understood his silence. He sat down in front of him and tried waving his hand in front of his face, but to no avail.

"A Disciple of Galgoth, the Scourge of Evathas. A humble servant. I have searched a long time for someone like you." He said to the Disciple, who remained still and quiet.

"I need your help. Show me what you know, teach me what you are and we can both profit from this. Perhaps through the destruction of Mithranus? No, what about retaking Alfhara? I'm sure it's ruled by nothing but demons, but if we have an army at our backs, we could prevail. What do you think?" He asked the Disciple, who gave him no response.

"Just so you know, we are taking these Caves. We are going to use Derunir to our advantage, possibly even take that little shithole fishing village Daer Arthis. What have you say about that?" He asked, growing impatient and wishing to draw provoke him. He turned to his followers and motioning them to carry out his orders. One nodded and ordered all but three Stewards to prepare the cave for their extended stay. The remaining three kept their swords drawn and ready to defend their Prince should they need to.

---

An hour had passed now since Elwin asked his last question, pacing back and forth, watching the Disciple for any movement, which there was none. "You bastard..." he whispered before walking over and bending down.

"I don't need you. All I really need is that book in your hands. I read that all Disciples were given those books, which gave them their power. All the others were destroyed, so how about I take it off your hands?" Elwin said as he reached out and placed a hand on it.

"Uf'lek!" Yelled the Disciple, shaking the cave. He heard a scream from behind him and turned to see it. His Stewards, red color flaring in their eyes, engaged each other, clashing steel and screaming.

"Stop! Stop now!" He ordered, but was ignored as one of his Stewards sliced the others' neck open, continuing to clash steel with the other. He turned to face the Disciple, who was now laughing at the destruction he was causing.

"Make them stop!" Elwin said, drawing his sword and preparing to strike down the Disciple.

"Ifk!" The Disciple yelled again. Elwin's sword turned red hot in an instant, forcing Elwin to drop it to the ground. The Disciple continued to laugh as a Steward slid his sword into the belly of the other. Elwin watched as his sword melted into white hot lava, seeping down into the sandy ground. He turned to see the last Steward there, turning his sword on himself and shoving it deep within his own stomach. The Steward then yanked the sword upwards, spilling his guts to the ground and falling over, dead.

"You have no power here, boy." Said the Disciple in a raspy, sinister tone. The Disciple slowly rose from his position, blood spilling from his mouth. Elwin quaked in fear as he backed up slowly, tripping over the body of one of his Stewards.

"You've summoned me, provoked me, and all you can do is cower in fear? I pictured you as a valiant rebel, thrown away by the Royal Family and resurrected by your followers? Oh, but wait. You placed a spell on them, forcing them to love you. How pathetic. Perhaps I should kill you and take your followers from you? Ah, yes. A reborn army at my command.

"No!" Yelled Elwin as he raised his unleashing a barrage of lightning from his palm, a magic symbol tattooed on his hand to give him the power. The lightning was easily deflected as the Disciple reached out and gripped his hand with a black energy. The blue light was absorbed by the black and the tattoo on his hand faded away from it. The Disciple laughed once more at the powerless nature of Elwin.

"You fumble with magics you have no idea how to control. You claim to know your fill of Del'raka, yet you haven't even touched the surface. Three hundred years since the fall of my order, since our failure at Evathas. I have learned more than any of my order since. I could set this entire country on fire if I wished, I could have killed you without moving at all, I could have collapsed this cave and everyone inside it as soon as you stepped in. But I spared you and your pathetic Stewards, well, except for those three. You're pathetic and beneath me, yet I see you will yet serve a purpose. Yes. A great purpose. Tell me, have you ever heard of Galgoth, the god we served? Mithallan priests will say Galgoth was nothing more than a miniscule beast during the War between Light and Dark on Alfhara. But the truth is that Galgoth was the God, he struck down Mithalla and carved up Alfhara, turning it into his own paradise. Since my atonement after Evathas, I had been in communication with Galgoth, learning from him, learning how to diminish the veil between Elvhenen and Alfhara. Mithalla's magic had kept the storms over the Northern Seas, too powerful for Galgoth to solve on his own. He needed Mithalla's descendants to help him. I am that help. Mithalla's Veil was created to be stronger on Alfhara's side than on Elvhenen's. She never expected for us to turn on her, or the memory of her, for a better word. Make no mistake, Mithalla is long dead and so is her Army of Light, defeated at her city. Lord Galgoth has had plenty of time to build his army up and is only waiting for that cursed Veil to be lifted. It will be glorious, and you. You will have your hand in it." Said the Disciple.

"Never, you monster!" Said Elwin. The Disciple picked him up by the throat and lifted him high, Elwin choking and gagging as he struggled for air.

"Please, call me Anadaerus. And you will serve, whether you want to or not!" He screamed out as he penetrated Elwin's mind, breaking down his barriers and leaving him a husk for the Disciple to use. Elwin, now limp, was slowly lowered to the ground. He dropped to one knee.

"Your Majesty. How may I serve you?" Requested Elwin.

"Go to your followers, have them take control Caras Ilith. Take every bit of this island you can, and prepare this cave for our rituals. Kill any who will not submit to your Stewards. Burn Daer Arthis to the ground. We have no need for it." Said Anadaerus.

"Yes, My Lord." Said Elwin before standing up and walking towards the tunnel.

Daer Arthis

The small fishing village and only port city of the isle of Caras Ilith was a lit in flame as the Stewards of Elwin marched through, gathering up the forty or so elves living there. The few who fought back were immediately executed as Elwin monitored the destruction of Daer Arthis. There were small remote hunting lodges and farms spread throughout Caras Ilith that Elwin was instructed to destroy, but for now, Daer Arthis was no more. The forty elves of Daer Arthis would be used in sacrifices and rituals of Anadaerus. It would be a long time for anyone came to see Daer Arthis, which gave them plenty of time. The Stewards at Derunir hung the

above the entrance to the tunnels and throughout the tunnels themselves.

Later that evening, Elwin wrote to the Stewards dispatched to locations across the Elven Empire, ordering them to make their way to Caras Ilith and to burn the letter after reading it. Slowly Anadaerus would begin indoctrinating the Stewards, who still believed Elwin was in control. Elwin would soon become the Disciple's Pawn, and the Steward's, part of Galgoth's Army ].

[Corthia]

The Kingdom of Corthia
The Capital City of Amaranthia

---

"Ladies and Gentlemen, His Majesty, Reclaimer of Corthia and Protector of the Human Realm, King Thomas Godfrey." Said the announcer to the circular room of the Royal Council's Chambers, freshly rebuilt after an Elven catapult collapsed that wing of the Royal Palace. Hammers and saws were working away on the room the King came in from, which would be the Royal Hall, where he would address the concerns of his people one day a week. The five men in the room, each newly christened Royal Councilors, a new idea suggested by the Dwarves after the retaking of Amaranthia early in the Liberation of Corthia, jumped up from their positions at a long rectangular table. They served the King by giving him advice, something the old King was too prideful to allow.

"Sit." Said the King with an annoyed tone in his voice. His Councilors slowly lowered down to their seats. The King stamped in and sat down at his plush, red chair, adorned with a wooden eagle raising up from the spine of the chair.

"This Council is now in session." The King said, motioning the Guards and Announcer to leave the room. Closing the door behind him, the King cleared his throat.

"What is our first issue?"

Royal Councilor Petyr Hughes cleared his throat, preparing to speak.

"Your Majesty, The northern provinces of Lindow, Aramore, and Frostford are in open rebellion. The Mayor of Sudbury, Ronald Coniston, is at the head of this rebellion. They believe our current government is too soft and that we are ruled by the Dwarves now. They think you do King Daidon's bidding. Farmers, peasants, all of them are rising up and demanding the Royal Army invade Elvhenen." Hughes said. The King wiped his forehead and sighed.

"They weren't complaining when they landed or saved our country. It's called owing a debt, not them owning us!" The King said, slamming his fist on the table.

"Dispatch a reasonable amount of troops to Sudbury and capture Mayor Ronald Coniston. He will be executed for treason against the Crown. If any in the provinces continue any further with this, Dispatch more troops and kill them all. Get the Dwarves to help if we have to." The King said. His response garnered questionable glances which were quickly hidden.

"Your Majesty, the execution of Mayor Coniston is justified, but open war against our own people?" Said Royal Councilor Albert Barcombe, an old white haired man, stroking his thick white beard.

"Rebellion is treason. If we allow these ideas to persist, the Kingdom will be in a civil war in a months time. We haven't even finished rebuilding Amaranthia, not to mention most of the country! As King, I will crush them." The King said, standing from his seat and moving to the wall of painted glass depicting a brief history through pictures. The King stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts on the matter.

"I want to kill every Elf I put my eyes on, I want to march on Mithranus and mount that Emperor bastard's head on a pike and I want to show those elves what it's like to live under a human's thumb for once. I want to slaughter the elves and take their homeland from them. I hate them, don't think I don't. But to ensure that we could have Dwarven military support, I had to promise I would not retaliate against the Elves. Straight to King Daidon's face. Any elf that steps into Corthia will face death, make no mistake. But Corthia cannot send her army into Elvhenen and take her revenge, we just don't have the manpower and we owe Dhuramar much. Without them, the Liberation of Corthia would not have been possible. I will not betray Corthia's only friends in this world." Said the King, turning back to face his Councilors. They all nodded, understanding his position and that it would be easier to carry out his orders rather than risk betrayal against a King who was placed in a difficult position.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

The Verdantderm Lands is removing it's "Runaway Royalty" story arc.
But will be continuing "First Contact".

[Elvhenen]

The Caves of Derunir
The Isle of Caras Ilith

---

The thick sheets of rain that plagued Caras Ilith hadn't stopped since the day Elwin first arrived to the Isle, which was now more than a few months behind them. Screams resounded throughout the caves almost nonstop since, as the Disciple Anadaerus had sacrificed all forty of the villagers of Daer Arthis to his dark god Galgoth, causing the storms around the island to intensify with each bloody death. A schism had taken place between those Stewards still loyal to Elwin and those completely brainwashed by Anadaerus. Realizing that his majesty was under a spell by Anadaerus, Elwin's top lieutenant, Tenyth Brytris gathered what few still remained unmolested by Anadaerus' persuasive techniques and spells and moved to capture Elwin and move him off of Caras Ilith, hoping to find sanctuary in the Stewards' closest waystation of Dead Horse Inn, which now lay empty since every Steward had been called to Caras Ilith. The rebellion was short and bloody as Tenyth and his band of thirty were set upon by hundreds of Elven warriors, now servants of Anadaerus. They didn't get close to Elwin, who had been recalled to Anadaerus' side. Any Elf of Tenyth's that cut his way through the hordes of brainwashed fellows to get far enough to lay eyes on Anadaerus were instantly set aflame. All thirty of those unwavered Elves were massacred, though Tenyth Brytris managed to escape the Caves of Derunir and find passage off the Isle by way of a small fishing boat, one of dozens left floating at their docks as their owners came in for their monthly trades, only to be snatched up by Stewards or killed right there on the dock. Anadaerus did not worry of one rebellious elf fleeing from the glory he would soon provide to all his former brothers.

So many bodies decorated the jagged walls and corners outside of the caves, painted black and stuck with spears to keep them upright. The bodies' heads had been removed, leaving only a gnarled neckbone jutting out to identify where the head would have gone. The caves and burned village were now decorated with black flags and white suns of Anadaerus as every inch of Caras Ilith was now guarded by Stewards who had arrived in the earlier months on the orders of Elwin, or so they thought. Anadaerus had turned the rogue Miratris's private following and army into his own personal guard, which had now grown larger, numbering in the six hundreds, including those that arrived with Elwin.

Anadaerus's Chambers

The chambers of the Last Disciple were by far the most homely of rooms in the deep and vast cave systems. He had spared no expense to fill the cavernous room with bright torches, plush chairs and sofas, ancient paintings from an era now long forgotten. He even sent a group of Stewards west to a small island a day and a half away from Caras Ilith. Those elves returned with many stories and artifacts from a massive ruin from an old civilization, claiming to have belonged to the Erathi, a group of elves that dated back to the Exodus. They brought back swords, statues, scrolls, books, even helmets, supposedly belonging to the Erathi. Anadaerus took all except for the swords and helmets, which he awarded to the lieutenants of his new Order of the Stewards of Anadaerus.

Elwin moved the curtain aside that acted as a door into the Disciple's quarters. The royal gave no mind to the artifacts or pleasure chairs sitting around the cavern, only moving stiffly forward and bending on one knee in front of Anadaerus, who was floating three feet off of the ground, an aura of darkness and low rumble surrounding him as he kept in commune with Galgoth, giving him immense strength. He slowly lowered back to the ground as he ended his session and slowly opened his old wrinkled eyes, burning a red color that soon faded away into his native brown colored eyes.

"We are growing closer than anyone ever has, Lord Elwin. Even during the days of Innolak, our former Necromancer, we never grew so close to Galgoth. Not as close as I have become. The veil of Mithalla has been weakened considerably, my young fool. My spells, attacks, have all been effective. Shades of the veil have grown colder in certain areas and it will not be long before Galgoth and the Army of Darkness can pass through. I now have a mission for you, Elwin. One that the Dark Lord has requested of you, which is a great honor." The Disciple said with great displeasure. Elwin's eyes shot up to his master, then quickly back down to the rocky floor.

"I am ready to serve, master." Elwin spoke weakly.

"You are to return to the Elvish mainland. You are to pose as your former self, you are to be a shell of the pathetic noble you once were. You will go before your brother Tassarion, the Emperor. You will fall on your knees and proclaim your love of dark magic to be over. You will state that you have disbanded your Stewards and you wish to be brought back into the fold. You will do and say whatever you must to win his trust and convince him to return you to the honored royal family of Elvhenen. Upon your departure, you will take with you ten of your best warriors. They will be instructed to disperse across the outskirts of Mithranus and await further instructions from me. When the veil is weakened enough for the Dark Lord to pass through, that is when you will reveal your true colors. The Stewards will enter the Silver Palace on the eve of his return. You will kill your brother, the Emperor. The Stewards will go through the castle and kill any member of the royal family they find, including any servants, guards, anyone that gets in their way. I have other resources devoted to destroying the House of Lillies, House of Talons, and the Order of Mithalla's Wardens." Anadaerus proclaimed, the last target confusing Elwin, who still had some independent thought through the Elf's control-addled brain.

"The Wardens, my master?" Elwin asked, puzzled. The Order of Mithalla's Wardens had become a joke, barely able to keep their castle in fair condition.

"Do not underestimate the Wardens. During the sacking of Evathas, their Order turned the tide of the battle, striking down my fellow Disciples like they were flies to a trap. Their magics and scrolls have been blessed by Mithalla. If Galgoth arrives and even a single Warden is left alive, Galgoth's reign is at risk. Every Warden must be slaughtered and their magics burned to nothing. No trace of the Wardens must be left. Their interference stopped one return, they will not stop another. I will dispatch every Steward to stop them if I must. Including you. But, for now. You're only mission is to persuade your family to accept you once again. Under no circumstance are you to make any effort to communicate with the Stewards, nor me, nor make any mention of Caras Ilith. Go." Anadaerus ordered Elwin, who immediately jumped to both of his feet and bowed in respect and left his Chambers.

In one of the darkest corners of his Chambers, another Elf stepped out from the shadows, walking slowly towards Anadaerus. The elf was wearing the black tunic and symbols of the Elvhen'henai, a secret society of warriors created long ago by Ilimitar Miratris to serve the Empire from the shadows. Since, they have done everything in the name of the Elven Empire, serving their Emperor honorably. The assassin knelt down on one knee before the Disciple, quiet as death.

"You will track down Tenyth Brytris and kill him before he reaches Mithranus. After, you will return to your Elvhen'henai post and await my order. When my signal is given, you will kill every high-ranking military officer you find, as quickly as you can. You will be the weapon that stuns the Elven armies and eases Galgoth's passing unto Elvhenen. Go." He ordered to the Assassin. The assassin rose from his stance and placed a fist on his chest. "By Galgoth's Will." The elf said before departing.

Dead Horse Inn
Northwestern Coast
Two days later

Upon his lonesome return to the Stewards' closest outpost, Tenyth Brytris re-lit the torches lining the wooden walls and brought the large fireplace back to life. The front entrance had been nailed shut and barricaded with four benches that were formerly surrounding the fireplace at the center of the lodge. The former Stewards' lieutenant sat defeated in one of the private rooms once reserved for paying customers. He scraped the whetstone gently across the edge of his sword, watching the blade glisten in the candlelight.

A loud crash downstairs ripped his concentration, jumping up from the bed which he sat on. He walked out of the door to see down the hall to see the fireplace go out in the main hall and the torches die one by one until all he saw was darkness ahead of him. He stepped out of the room, his sword readied, pointed towards the stairway ahead.

"Wh-who's there? Show yourself!" Ordered the elf. He felt a deathly presence growing closer. Behind him, a shadowy figure silently fell from the rafters and support beams, crouching down and drawing his daggers. Tenyth continued slowly moving back but noticed slight noise from behind him. He could feel the cold presence growing closer and swung his sword around, bringing it down upon the figure in a hacking motion. The figure jumped to it's side in an almost in-organic maneuver and thrust one of the daggers deep into Tenyth's side. The Steward shrieked in pain and slung the sword towards the assassin to which he ducked underneath it and slammed the other dagger into Tenyth's chest. The elf stumbled back and gasped, dropping his sword and looking down at the sinister looking shortblade protruding out of his chest and the other resting in his side. Blood pooled underneath him as he struggled for air, his body falling to the ground. Using the last bit of energy he had, Tenyth crawled away from the assassin, his objective unknown. He knew he was to die now, but with his last bit of stamina, he pulled the dagger out of his side. The blood splattered against the wall as he yanked the blade from him. He turned his head a bit to see the assassin nonchalantly walking in close to him. Tenyth's last act of defiance was him rolling over, blade in his fingers and pommel facing away from him, and throwing it directly at the figure's chest. With blood running from his mouth, he watched in defeat as the blade was caught between the elf's slender fingers, mere centimeters away from landing in the assassin's left breast.

The figure chuckled slightly and walked to the dying Steward. "May Galgoth have mercy on your misguided soul. The darkness will devour all." Were the figure's words before pulling the other dagger from his chest and sending both daggers into Tenyth's eyes, ending his misery and tying up another loose end for Anadaerus. The Elvhen'henai assassin accomplished his mission and would resume his duties to the Empire, until ordered otherwise.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

The far south Dwarven port city of Seramar

Priestess Ailefo

The Dwarven people, that Priestess Ailefo had once only identified as 'the pale skins', after determining that her Goblin people were not an immediate threat, generously made a place on shore for the Priestess and her party. She and her Prince marveled at the Dwarves buildings, with the abundance of stone and metal at their disposal the Dwarves created architectural works of art. While the Goblins were quite proud of their woodworking abilities, the structural strength of wood did not equal iron and stone. Now the Dwarves of Seramar were turning their construction talents toward building a dwelling for the Goblin trade and cultural mission. While they awaited the Mission's completion, the Goblins daily traveled to the city center to educate the Dwarves about Goblins and be educated by them about the Dwarves' culture and then back to the Goblins' ships.

Ailefo began learning Dwarven tongue, starting with the books that they used to educate their own children and progressing into the more worldly subjects. In a short time her understanding of the Dwarve's language was enough that she could completely follow most of their conversations. Speaking the language was more difficult and the Priestess needed to speak slowly to be understood.

During this time the sea ice moved closer to the port city and the Goblin ships made ready to depart. The Boldness would carry Prince Carm back to the Verdantderm Lands. The ships, 'Stalwart' and 'Bulwark' would also be going home, while Ailefo, her personal guard of six warriors and two acolytes of their God remained.

The Priestess and her once-brother stood on the pier and exchanged their farewells.

"This parting, Ailefo" said Prince Carm, "wounds me as much as when you took your vows. After that, I could at least see you at services, holidays or when affairs of church and state merged."

"Carm," she replied, "I felt the same, but you are your father's heir and unless something happens to you, you know that our birth brothers and sisters are duty-bound to take holy vows. That and you know that I had visions of doing our God's work even before I took those vows."

Carm nodded, knowing that Ailefo spoke true. He held her hands in his. "I just want you to know that I miss being your brother and that I will miss you, knowing that you are here, in this faraway land."

She reassured him, "This will not be forever, Carm. We will be moving into the new Mission building in the matter of a few days. Until then, we will have adequate lodgings. I will come back." Ailefo smiled, "Then, some day, when you've had a son and decided to let him assume the throne and I've decided that I'm able to retire, we can sit together and can watch the sun from the top of a hill."

The Prince grinned and said, "You always know how to make me smile." She smiled back at him and he continued, "I look forward to seeing you well before then, Priestess." The Prince then pulled her into an embrace and hugged her fondly. She hugged him back.

They released each other at the sound of three blows of the Boldness's horn, announcing the final call for boarding.

"Give your Royal Father my best wishes," said Ailefo, meaning their father, but her vows had, at least officially, separated her from her familial bonds. Carm understood but that didn't stop the sharing of fond memories and the sense of being very comfortable with one another. Apparently, this didn't offend their God because his Royal Father told him of His own relations with His once-siblings and of His Royal Grandfather's relations with His once-siblings.

"I will," replied Carm, "and I hope He sends me back here in the spring with your replacement."

"Go now," said the Priestess with a smile, " or He and the Priesthood will believe you let yourself get caught in the ice on my account."

Reluctantly, the Prince nodded, said 'farewell', and ran to board his ship. Ailefo waived to his retreating back.