The Kepraini Rebellion [Gwalethia, IC]

[Tyrandia]

Gregal stared at the Mokranshi as if he had asked a dumb question, then laughed; causing everyone around him to laugh as well.

"Mr. Friend from the North... All we want is freedom. A chance to choose our own destinies, a chance to build a society of equals." he paused for a few moments, "What we want, is a Republic. We don't wish to harm anyone doing this, but we tried it the diplomatic route and it failed. Now, our "rebellion" as they call it, is growing every day." He smiled, "We wish to give everyone the rights to choose every part of their lives." He sat down on a rock nearby to stretch and relax, "our leader, whom you obviously don't know... they were the one that sparked this whole rebellion. A great speaker and fighter. Without them, we'd have lost before. But now, thanks to their efforts, each cell works independently, and nobody can really tell where the boss is. So, truth be told; I can't make any promises to the Mokranshi except for the one that every cell agrees on; you help us gain our freedom, and your people are welcome to join us. We want equality for all, and if that means that some of your people wish to move here, or some of our people wish to join yours; that's their choice. Their freedom to do so." He jumped back up and pointed towards his brothers and sisters in arms. "Isn't that right?" They all cheered in support.

He next pointed towards the guard that was carrying the gear of the Mokranshi, "As promised, your tools are yours." He gestured to have them returned and have their false bindings removed "Apologies for the poor accommodations around here, and the fact we had to treat you as prisoners." He smiled, "Whether or not you truly wish to help us, we'll take whatever chances exist. Who knows? Perhaps if you help enough, the boss will want to speak with you all directly, and then something even bigger can come of this! So what do you say?" He put out his hand for a handshake, "Help us out, and we can promise you that we won't stop anyone from joining your people, or your people joining us."

It seemed that his words were truly genuine. The people here believed that everyone would be able to live their lives as they see fit, and thus none harboured any ill will towards those that may wish to leave and join another nation, race, culture, religion, or anything. But they did all have one pressing thought on their minds, what exactly the Mokranshi wanted, and if they were genuine in wanting to help; or if they solely wanted new people to convert.

Itashir gave an inquisitive look. He looked down at Gregal's hand before moving to shake it. As he did, he said, 'Thank you for trusting us so, Gregal. You will not regret it. Tell you what, to prove our commitment to the rebel cause, perhaps we can help now?' As he let go of the rebel lieutenant's hand, Itashir continued, 'Understand that sooner or later, we will have to send a message back to Mokranshi in order to inform the blessed Farseer of our progress. I understand if you're still somewhat paranoid about our loyalties. To prove our own commitment, before sending a message back to our land, allow us to aid your cause right here. We all have talents that would be of great use.'

'As a Messenger of Mulcarn, I have been trained not only to convert, but to heal and to teach. If you have any injured or a hospice of any kind, I may be able to assist. If you're looking for something a little more useful in active duty, perhaps I can teach some of your scouts and couriers the Mokrani runes? Our native language is not a widely spoken one, let alone a widely written one. If some of your men need to send written messages to one another, I could teach them our runes and the mage-lords would not be able to read them, should their messages be intercepted. This may take some time to learn, though.'

Itashir gestured to his companions, who were staying close together and keeping their distance from the many rebels throughout the outpost. 'My associates may also be of some service.' The pointed to the tall, short-haired, blue woman. 'This over here is Ahiki. I'd introduce you two, but I'm afraid my associates are not fond of non-Winterborn. They'll help, I assure you, but they may be somewhat...brusque in their demeanor. Anyhow, Ahiki is a master of subterfuge. Back in Mokranshi, she was best known for information gathering and became an expert at locating the whereabouts of...wayward tribes. She located no less than three in her time in our homeland And that's no small feat, might I say. The Lost Mokrani are few in number and masters of hiding themselves in the tundra. She would be of great service to your spies. Just as well, she is also a talented cryomancer. She may be able to teach ice magic to your mages, should you have any in any nearby camps or outposts. Believe me, ice and cold are formidable obstacles for anyone not adapted to them.'

Finally, Itashir looked to the last of the trio, a rather young, sheer white-skinned woman with a fiery gaze. 'Then there is Penanpe. Do not let her age fool you. She has been with many Messengers and traveled in missions across Gwalethia since practically she could recite the Praises. She's a skilled scout and incredibly agile. While I understand that the Kepraini are raised in these mountains and know them better than any outsider, perhaps Penanpe could aid your efforts in counteracting Tyrandian efforts to suppress the rebellion? She could seek out their supply lines or cut off choke points. She even knows a bit of magic, though not to the degree of Ahiki. I should also warn you that neither of them speak Kepraini nor Tyrandian, but I can translate for them.'

'We have much to offer you, good Gregal.' Itashir offered a polite bow before gesturing to the vial the rebel had stored away. 'And more, should you or anyone desire it. We are here to assist your righteous cause.'

Gregal smiled, "We'd be fools to refuse any aid you would be willing to help. You see, we're fairly isolated here; our resources are decent, as we were the main farmers and miners for Tyrandia... but there are slight issues. Whilst we can transport them between the camps, the Tyrandians are always hunting us down, as convoys can't just go through the caves like our fighters can; they'd lose most of their goods trying to climb the mountains, or scaling walls... which means they need to use routes that the Tyrandians already know. Is there anything you can do to help them travel on these routes? Or can you use your magic to somehow create a new route?" He asked, before continuing, "As for training our Magoi... most of the ones who sided with us are, for the lack of a better word; novices. They may not be up to your standards in terms of magic, but if you wish to attempt to train them, I can lead you to another camp where they are located... they try to stay away from non Magoi, as they don't want to scare anyone." It seemed that those around him had mixed feelings upon hearing of their allied Magoi. Overall, nobody was wanting to get rid of them, but they were also concerned that they may be spies, as they're fighting against their own rights.

Gregal took a deep breath, deciding to continue to break the tension in the air, "Finally, we've got to find somewhere for your people to be able to stay. I doubt you would be comfortable in our camps, as we tend to keep them heated. There are caves a bit away from here; not so far that we can't reach you for communication, but not so close that you'd be running into the civilians. We can guide you there, and you can use it as your own little home while here... hell, you can even turn it into a temple if you want, as long as you don't force anyone to go there!" He laughed at that, half making a joke, half serious, "But there's one issue... that cave also leads to the outside of the Kepraini Moutain range. I know you don't know the tunnels and caverns that well, so we'd show you around, but there's also the chance that if you were to do anything flashy, they may notice. If that's not fine, I can ask around to find you somewhere else?" He stood there, waiting for a response.

[Mokranshi]

Gregal smiled, "We'd be fools to refuse any aid you would be willing to help. You see, we're fairly isolated here; our resources are decent, as we were the main farmers and miners for Tyrandia... but there are slight issues. Whilst we can transport them between the camps, the Tyrandians are always hunting us down, as convoys can't just go through the caves like our fighters can; they'd lose most of their goods trying to climb the mountains, or scaling walls... which means they need to use routes that the Tyrandians already know. Is there anything you can do to help them travel on these routes? Or can you use your magic to somehow create a new route?" He asked, before continuing, "As for training our Magoi... most of the ones who sided with us are, for the lack of a better word; novices. They may not be up to your standards in terms of magic, but if you wish to attempt to train them, I can lead you to another camp where they are located... they try to stay away from non Magoi, as they don't want to scare anyone." It seemed that those around him had mixed feelings upon hearing of their allied Magoi. Overall, nobody was wanting to get rid of them, but they were also concerned that they may be spies, as they're fighting against their own rights.

Gregal took a deep breath, deciding to continue to break the tension in the air, "Finally, we've got to find somewhere for your people to be able to stay. I doubt you would be comfortable in our camps, as we tend to keep them heated. There are caves a bit away from here; not so far that we can't reach you for communication, but not so close that you'd be running into the civilians. We can guide you there, and you can use it as your own little home while here... hell, you can even turn it into a temple if you want, as long as you don't force anyone to go there!" He laughed at that, half making a joke, half serious, "But there's one issue... that cave also leads to the outside of the Kepraini Moutain range. I know you don't know the tunnels and caverns that well, so we'd show you around, but there's also the chance that if you were to do anything flashy, they may notice. If that's not fine, I can ask around to find you somewhere else?" He stood there, waiting for a response.

Itashir gave a warm grin. 'You honor us, Gregal. As a matter of fact, we are familiar with a few of the routes and pathways around the Kepraini borderlands. Back when we were with the convoy, we took many of the major roads leading to the capital. Ahiki herself was familiar with Pasekur's plans, and should be able to construct a rough map of the roadways. If you can keep the paths leading in and out of Keprain under wraps, then you should be able to create a steady supply route to the nearby camps. Penanpe! Ahiki!' Itashir called to his companions, who stirred and walked to his side. 'Our new friend, Gregal, requires your aid. He and his men need a roadmap of the Kepraini highlands. Ahiki, I know you're familiar with the maps Pasekur used. I'm sure you could construct a rough outline of the major routes in the areas.'

Ahiki turned to Gregal and addressed him directly for the first time, though she seemed hesitant to make eye contact. Itashir translated for her, 'I can make you a map, Gregal. Be warned, however. Your camp is a ways off from the nearest highway, and said highway is still under use by the Tyrandian military. This isn't even mentioning the threat of highwaymen who've moved into the area thanks to the chaos this rebellion has wrought. You'd need a well trained and well staffed guard to ward off attacks.' She looked to Penanpe. 'That, or you could bring a scout who could see the threats before they see you. Penanpe is a talented scout. Bring her and some of your guerilla fighters, and you'll be able to hide from the patrols or even ambush them if you're in need of their arms and armor. I hear you also have novice mages in the area? Yes, I can train them, but only in ice magic. I may also need Itashir's much-spoken tongue to get the point across to them.' Itashir flashed her a look. 'If you fear some of them are spies, I can help flush them out first. I'm a spymistress, not an interrogator, but I'll see what I can do.

Ahiki turned back to Itashir. 'Faithful Messenger, you know the Kepraini tongue. Teach her some words and phrases, that she may be able to speak somewhat with the rebels. Then we can send her with the rebel supply trains, though I doubt she'll be happy about that.'

'Wait, what are you planning?', Penanpe piped up. 'You're going to send me out there with the outlanders.'

'That we may be able to aid them properly, Penanpe', interjected Itashir. 'They would have aid of your skills. And besides, we are the outlanders here. It's we who need to prove our trustworthiness. Now, come with me. You need to learn some Kepraini. And besides, we need to get started on building a safe shelter for the three of us. A shrine as well. This camp is too hot. Let's go, we'll fill out a nearby cave.'

'At your command, faithful Messenger', Penanpe drawled sarcastically. She began walking with Itashir towards the hillside to look for a sufficiently chilly cave. Itashir turned back to the rebel lieutenant. 'Actually, we could use your help, good Gregal. You know the caves best, and we need one where we would not be noticed by the Tyrandians. Hopefully, we will not need much magic to make this cave suitable to our tastes.'

Ahiki followed the group as they made their way. She attempted to address Gregal in his alien tongue, strange as it was. 'Road paper, Gregal?' Ahiki pulled out a parchment and some charcoal. 'Road paper give you. I make', she said as she began tracing the highland roads from memory best as she could.

Some time later...

The group looked around the interior of the cave they had settled on. It was small, damp, one sided, and nestled comfortably into the side of the mountain, only a short walk from the main camp. Most of all, it was subject to a heavy and windy draft and made the cavern almost unbearably cold inside. Yes, it would do nicely.

Itashir had wasted no time in setting up a small shrine to the God of the North. He took a small statuette of the many-headed god and put it atop a slab of stone, while Penanpe under orders had painted a few makeshift images onto the walls of the cave. There weren't many, just what seemed to be some nondescript figures walking and entering a camp, likely a recreation of the initial meeting. Among some Mulcarn worshippers, especially mountain dwelling ones, it was traditional to paint local accomplishments onto the walls of a cave shrine in honor of Mulcarn and that He may know their feats, as Itashir explained to Gregal. 'In time, I hope that we will be able to coat the walls in grand displays of victory', the Messenger said. 'But for now, this shrine will be enough to house the three of us. We should return to the village soon. It looks like Ahiki is almost done with her map, and I'm sure the others will want to see it. After that, I'll get started on Penanpe's Kepraini lessons and maybe Ahiki can begin her magic lessons as well.' He looked to Gregal expectantly.

[Vextress Hive]

The Vexan Jungle

Under the vast canopies of the ancient, Vexan Jungle, a immense consciousness lies. A mind so great and powerful, that it rules a entire civilization by itself. The Hive Mind, the one mind controlling a vast subterranean civilization, known to the world as the "Vextress Hive" The hivers of this hive are of that one, incomprehensibly large, mind, sharing a collective consciousness.

In the great subterranean tunnels under the jungle, the worker drones do their duty without falter or complaint. Mining with crude stone pick axes for days on end, and farming the "Mien Tek" fungus. While the warriors patrol the tunnels for intruders, and go topside to hunt for fresh meat. All of this unity, and production only being possible by the help of the queens, who are the ones who keep the other drones connected to the hive mind "without this connection the drones would be nothing more than mindless beasts"

For eons the hive has grown, the hive mind can still remember when its hive was no bigger than a ant colony, its drones small and weak. Now it is truly massive, the hive controlling almost the entire jungle, its millions of drones unmatched in strength and size by any nearby threats. The Hive Mind for all its craftiness, age, and unimaginable size and will still runs on three basic biological directives.

Survive

Feed

Grow

It has run on these directives since the first queen had laid its first eggs, directives that have kept the hive in constant growth, directives that ensured no other colony could grow to dwarf the hive. Now the Hive Mind looks westward for expansion, the hive must expand, and the various animal species that the hive has relied on for so long to keep itself fed are slowly starting to run out. The hive needs more drones, more food, and more land to continue the directive.

Sending a scouting tendril westward, the hive mind will find new lands, and more prey...

1 hive queen, 4 guardians, 50 warriors

[Tyrandia]

The Vexan Jungle

Under the vast canopies of the ancient, Vexan Jungle, a immense consciousness lies. A mind so great and powerful, that it rules a entire civilization by itself. The Hive Mind, the one mind controlling a vast subterranean civilization, known to the world as the "Vextress Hive" The hivers of this hive are of that one, incomprehensibly large, mind, sharing a collective consciousness.

In the great subterranean tunnels under the jungle, the worker drones do their duty without falter or complaint. Mining with crude stone pick axes for days on end, and farming the "Mien Tek" fungus. While the warriors patrol the tunnels for intruders, and go topside to hunt for fresh meat. All of this unity, and production only being possible by the help of the queens, who are the ones who keep the other drones connected to the hive mind "without this connection the drones would be nothing more than mindless beasts"

For eons the hive has grown, the hive mind can still remember when its hive was no bigger than a ant colony, its drones small and weak. Now it is truly massive, the hive controlling almost the entire jungle, its millions of drones unmatched in strength and size by any nearby threats. The Hive Mind for all its craftiness, age, and unimaginable size and will still runs on three basic biological directives.

Survive

Feed

Grow

It has run on these directives since the first queen had laid its first eggs, directives that have kept the hive in constant growth, directives that ensured no other colony could grow to dwarf the hive. Now the Hive Mind looks westward for expansion, the hive must expand, and the various animal species that the hive has relied on for so long to keep itself fed are slowly starting to run out. The hive needs more drones, more food, and more land to continue the directive.

Sending a scouting tendril westward, the hive mind will find new lands, and more prey...

1 hive queen, 4 guardians, 50 warriors

Southern Border
A few patrolmen marching along the border spot the movement of something confusing to the guards.

"Hey, Maxim, did you see that?" Asks one guard, pointing off in the direction.

"Wait, you saw it too? I thought I was seeing things. It looked like a big bug?" He replied.

"Yeah, right! Exactly! That's what I saw. Hm... Could it be a new hostile?" He questioned, "Go alert the garrison, just in case." Maxim ran off towards the nearby garrison.

The remaining patrolmen that stayed behind began to observe from a distance, trying to understand what was going on. Perhaps these were new hostiles, allies, or just very large bugs; they didn't know. They didn't have access to any libraries to look these things up, only the Magoi did, and even then; they weren't the most knowledgable about non magical things. The guards stood waiting in anticipating to see what would happen next.

[Tyrandia]

Gregal smiled, "We'd be fools to refuse any aid you would be willing to help. You see, we're fairly isolated here; our resources are decent, as we were the main farmers and miners for Tyrandia... but there are slight issues. Whilst we can transport them between the camps, the Tyrandians are always hunting us down, as convoys can't just go through the caves like our fighters can; they'd lose most of their goods trying to climb the mountains, or scaling walls... which means they need to use routes that the Tyrandians already know. Is there anything you can do to help them travel on these routes? Or can you use your magic to somehow create a new route?" He asked, before continuing, "As for training our Magoi... most of the ones who sided with us are, for the lack of a better word; novices. They may not be up to your standards in terms of magic, but if you wish to attempt to train them, I can lead you to another camp where they are located... they try to stay away from non Magoi, as they don't want to scare anyone." It seemed that those around him had mixed feelings upon hearing of their allied Magoi. Overall, nobody was wanting to get rid of them, but they were also concerned that they may be spies, as they're fighting against their own rights.

Gregal took a deep breath, deciding to continue to break the tension in the air, "Finally, we've got to find somewhere for your people to be able to stay. I doubt you would be comfortable in our camps, as we tend to keep them heated. There are caves a bit away from here; not so far that we can't reach you for communication, but not so close that you'd be running into the civilians. We can guide you there, and you can use it as your own little home while here... hell, you can even turn it into a temple if you want, as long as you don't force anyone to go there!" He laughed at that, half making a joke, half serious, "But there's one issue... that cave also leads to the outside of the Kepraini Moutain range. I know you don't know the tunnels and caverns that well, so we'd show you around, but there's also the chance that if you were to do anything flashy, they may notice. If that's not fine, I can ask around to find you somewhere else?" He stood there, waiting for a response.

Itashir gave a warm grin. 'You honor us, Gregal. As a matter of fact, we are familiar with a few of the routes and pathways around the Kepraini borderlands. Back when we were with the convoy, we took many of the major roads leading to the capital. Ahiki herself was familiar with Pasekur's plans, and should be able to construct a rough map of the roadways. If you can keep the paths leading in and out of Keprain under wraps, then you should be able to create a steady supply route to the nearby camps. Penanpe! Ahiki!' Itashir called to his companions, who stirred and walked to his side. 'Our new friend, Gregal, requires your aid. He and his men need a roadmap of the Kepraini highlands. Ahiki, I know you're familiar with the maps Pasekur used. I'm sure you could construct a rough outline of the major routes in the areas.'

Ahiki turned to Gregal and addressed him directly for the first time, though she seemed hesitant to make eye contact. Itashir translated for her, 'I can make you a map, Gregal. Be warned, however. Your camp is a ways off from the nearest highway, and said highway is still under use by the Tyrandian military. This isn't even mentioning the threat of highwaymen who've moved into the area thanks to the chaos this rebellion has wrought. You'd need a well trained and well staffed guard to ward off attacks.' She looked to Penanpe. 'That, or you could bring a scout who could see the threats before they see you. Penanpe is a talented scout. Bring her and some of your guerilla fighters, and you'll be able to hide from the patrols or even ambush them if you're in need of their arms and armor. I hear you also have novice mages in the area? Yes, I can train them, but only in ice magic. I may also need Itashir's much-spoken tongue to get the point across to them.' Itashir flashed her a look. 'If you fear some of them are spies, I can help flush them out first. I'm a spymistress, not an interrogator, but I'll see what I can do.

Ahiki turned back to Itashir. 'Faithful Messenger, you know the Kepraini tongue. Teach her some words and phrases, that she may be able to speak somewhat with the rebels. Then we can send her with the rebel supply trains, though I doubt she'll be happy about that.'

'Wait, what are you planning?', Penanpe piped up. 'You're going to send me out there with the outlanders.'

'That we may be able to aid them properly, Penanpe', interjected Itashir. 'They would have aid of your skills. And besides, we are the outlanders here. It's we who need to prove our trustworthiness. Now, come with me. You need to learn some Kepraini. And besides, we need to get started on building a safe shelter for the three of us. A shrine as well. This camp is too hot. Let's go, we'll fill out a nearby cave.'

'At your command, faithful Messenger', Penanpe drawled sarcastically. She began walking with Itashir towards the hillside to look for a sufficiently chilly cave. Itashir turned back to the rebel lieutenant. 'Actually, we could use your help, good Gregal. You know the caves best, and we need one where we would not be noticed by the Tyrandians. Hopefully, we will not need much magic to make this cave suitable to our tastes.'

Ahiki followed the group as they made their way. She attempted to address Gregal in his alien tongue, strange as it was. 'Road paper, Gregal?' Ahiki pulled out a parchment and some charcoal. 'Road paper give you. I make', she said as she began tracing the highland roads from memory best as she could.

Some time later...

The group looked around the interior of the cave they had settled on. It was small, damp, one sided, and nestled comfortably into the side of the mountain, only a short walk from the main camp. Most of all, it was subject to a heavy and windy draft and made the cavern almost unbearably cold inside. Yes, it would do nicely.

Itashir had wasted no time in setting up a small shrine to the God of the North. He took a small statuette of the many-headed god and put it atop a slab of stone, while Penanpe under orders had painted a few makeshift images onto the walls of the cave. There weren't many, just what seemed to be some nondescript figures walking and entering a camp, likely a recreation of the initial meeting. Among some Mulcarn worshippers, especially mountain dwelling ones, it was traditional to paint local accomplishments onto the walls of a cave shrine in honor of Mulcarn and that He may know their feats, as Itashir explained to Gregal. 'In time, I hope that we will be able to coat the walls in grand displays of victory', the Messenger said. 'But for now, this shrine will be enough to house the three of us. We should return to the village soon. It looks like Ahiki is almost done with her map, and I'm sure the others will want to see it. After that, I'll get started on Penanpe's Kepraini lessons and maybe Ahiki can begin her magic lessons as well.' He looked to Gregal expectantly.

At the Cave
Gregal stood less agitated than when he first met the outsiders, "Yes, of course; we will return. This cave should serve you well. I am sorry we cannot give you better accomodations, but for the moment you may call these caves your homes, temples, whatever you will. We won't stop anyone from coming to visit or learn, if they so choose to. In addition, the Magoi on our side are willing to learn what they can, they agreed to meet after nightfall in a nearby enclosure that we use to train. They shouldn't be any threat or anything, but they may be uncomfortable with outsiders. If there are any problems, please let me know." He said, moving towards the mouth of the cave, "Whenever you are ready, we can head over to the village."

At the Village
The villagers were gathering supplies from all around, it seemed as if they were preparing a small banquet; there were meats, fruits, vegetables, and most importantly; alchohol. The fighters of the group were setting up perimiters, and proper shifts so that everyone would be able to take turns and enjoy the fun. Those who were too old, or too young, helped out by building what they could, or grilling the food. For entertainment, many women and men dressed in traditional attire; colourful shirts and wrappings covering various parts of their bodies. They practiced dancing, singing, and playing instruments.

"Ahem..." Said an older lady, "It seems that the preparataions are nearly complete..." she took a deep, pained breath, "We will celebrate our new friends with a feast, we haven't had many occassions for one, but this is a joyous one..." She coughed aloud, "So please, enjoy yourselves when they arrive!" She smiled, sitting down, closing her eyes to try to relax herself.

Soon after her statement, children began to play games with each other, chasing one another around, and throwing what looked like small balls filled with a faintly glowing paint-like substance in it; which exploded on impact, marking whatever, or whomever they hit. It seemed everyone was enjoying themselves.

[Bakvae]

Tyrandian southern Border crossing

A well maintained carriage rolls swiftly up the road carrying a young woman in her mid thirties who is staring bordly out the window as the scenery rolls by. Her personal bodyguard napping in the seat across from her while the rest of her guard detachment rides alongside the carriage destined for the capitol and the Magoi council.

She looks down into her hands and once again thumbs open the letter from Ninth Prince, Gu'Hae'Kar vi Gu'Liu'Rho'Stern, Grand Master of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order, and Holy Diplomat of the Eternal Throne detailing her mission to come into contact with the governing body of Tyrania and assess the state of the country for any information of value... Just another boring day for the Holy diplomat of the order. Just another stuffy dinner and talk with another bunch of old men, but she was good at her job and a professional if nothing else. The order demanded that, and the will of the Order is second only to the will of the Throne.

Once again closing her eyes and relaxing back into the plush seat of the carriage, she attempts to hasten the journey with sleep.

[Mokranshi]

At the Village
The villagers were gathering supplies from all around, it seemed as if they were preparing a small banquet; there were meats, fruits, vegetables, and most importantly; alchohol. The fighters of the group were setting up perimiters, and proper shifts so that everyone would be able to take turns and enjoy the fun. Those who were too old, or too young, helped out by building what they could, or grilling the food. For entertainment, many women and men dressed in traditional attire; colourful shirts and wrappings covering various parts of their bodies. They practiced dancing, singing, and playing instruments.

"Ahem..." Said an older lady, "It seems that the preparataions are nearly complete..." she took a deep, pained breath, "We will celebrate our new friends with a feast, we haven't had many occassions for one, but this is a joyous one..." She coughed aloud, "So please, enjoy yourselves when they arrive!" She smiled, sitting down, closing her eyes to try to relax herself.

Soon after her statement, children began to play games with each other, chasing one another around, and throwing what looked like small balls filled with a faintly glowing paint-like substance in it; which exploded on impact, marking whatever, or whomever they hit. It seemed everyone was enjoying themselves.

Itashir, Ahiki, and Penanpe made themselves comfortable as the feast was prepared around them. All sorts of exotic sights, sounds, and smells surrounded them around the banquet. Ahiki and Penanpe were rather uncomfortable by the many heat sources, Penanpe visibly so. She shifted about, trying her best to keep her distance from the grilled foodstuffs. Ahiki seemed shifty dfor her part. Her eyes flitted about the banquet from person to person, holding for a while on the elderly woman speaking.

Itashir, for his part, could not seem to contain his enjoyment at the festivities. He danced with the entertainers to the sounds of Kepraini music, trying his best to mimic their traditional dances. He draped himself in an indigenously styled scarf and made merry with the locals. When the elder made her announcement, he came forth and listened intently before responding, 'Thank you for your most gracious welcome, praiseworthy elder.' He then turned to the crowd, 'and a thousand thanks to the people of Keprain for your generosity! We are truly honored to be among you. While we harbor no illusions about the difficulties that lie ahead, we shall stand beside you as if you were our own countryman, for your, nay, our cause is righteous. With Mulcarn's favor, we shall reign victorious in the war to come. But for now, let us not burden ourselves with thoughts of wars or tyrannical mage lords. Today is a day for happiness and merriment! Let us celebrate!'

With the festivities proceeding, the trio immersed themselves. Penanpe tentatively tried some of the meats, but not before flash freezing it with an ice spell when she thought no one was looking. She had no taste for food cooked over a flame. Ahiki ate even less than her, partaking in a few fruits. The stern-faced woman took the first opportunity to scout the village perimeter with some of the fighters. The spymistress never had much of a taste for celebrations. She found them annoying at best and shockingly wasteful at worst. Itashir on the other hand got lost even more in the banquet. Being from the Nogoon tribe of the Greenlands in southern Mokranshi, he was no stranger to warm weather nor warm food. The tribes of the Greenlands were famous in Mokranshi for their hardiness and (relative) resistance to heat. They were the only tribes to practice fire cooking, and were renowned for the culinary arts. For Itashir, this meant that he took to the Kepraini banquet with gusto, sampling every dish he could find. He made a mental note to leave an extra offering to Mulcarn if he did not have a stomach ache come morn.

When he was done with that, he joined the children and indulged in their fascinating game. Before the night was over, the Messenger was covered in all sorts of painted markings. He even managed to draw the otherwise reluctant Penanpe in by pelting her with a ball and coating her hair with paint. This ended up angering her enough to attempt the same to Itashir. And succeed for that matter, as the young scout was far more agile than him. He minded not, as Penanpe seemed to be enjoying herself by the end of it. Or at least, she was enjoying pelting the Messenger with magic balls. The festivities went on well into the night, for everyone was eager to take their minds off the struggles that were to come.

[Fyrae]

Rho'O'Ne fought to keep his amusement of the savage's humiliation, albeit at the expense of the poor Northman they had most certainly killed trying to befoul him in such an unholy and ghastly way. Had the entire charade not been heretical, he might've even stifled a laugh. Instead, he motioned for Hae'Kar to rise from his seat when the Magoi requested that they show off what it was the Fyra'ii intended to deliver to the Tyrandian war effort. His entourage followed remained seated, their faces almost locked in stone.

"I come before you today, the Magoi Council, as a representative of Fyrae, the Eternal Empire. I'm most certain you've heard of us" he said, jokingly "Now, while I would certainly like to get the blasphemous and ugly image of the savage cow-men brutalising the uncorrupted human out of my head, I'm afraid that the Emperor deems I keep it in my head forever, so that we know what the Frozen Savages would do to us, if given the chance" he added, purposely prodding the savages with his words "What has the representative of the Most Eternal Empire and it's God-Emperor brought to show off? I can assure you, it is not soul-corrupting as the former fiasco demonstrated. Instead, I bid you to look outside of your city walls. There sits an Imperial Legion, armed and armoured to bring down any foe. This legion is the Eternal Legion, led by the Lord of the Fyrae'ii who sits among you. This Legion has seen fighting in the frozen north during the Beastman Revolt, personally slaying the wretched abomination that led the misguided rebellion. It has seen order stabilised in regions thought ungovernable, and it will add the destruction of the rebellious Kepraini to its list of accomplishments, with your permission"

[Mokranshi]

Rho'O'Ne fought to keep his amusement of the savage's humiliation, albeit at the expense of the poor Northman they had most certainly killed trying to befoul him in such an unholy and ghastly way. Had the entire charade not been heretical, he might've even stifled a laugh. Instead, he motioned for Hae'Kar to rise from his seat when the Magoi requested that they show off what it was the Fyra'ii intended to deliver to the Tyrandian war effort. His entourage followed remained seated, their faces almost locked in stone.

"I come before you today, the Magoi Council, as a representative of Fyrae, the Eternal Empire. I'm most certain you've heard of us" he said, jokingly "Now, while I would certainly like to get the blasphemous and ugly image of the savage cow-men brutalising the uncorrupted human out of my head, I'm afraid that the Emperor deems I keep it in my head forever, so that we know what the Frozen Savages would do to us, if given the chance" he added, purposely prodding the savages with his words "What has the representative of the Most Eternal Empire and it's God-Emperor brought to show off? I can assure you, it is not soul-corrupting as the former fiasco demonstrated. Instead, I bid you to look outside of your city walls. There sits an Imperial Legion, armed and armoured to bring down any foe. This legion is the Eternal Legion, led by the Lord of the Fyrae'ii who sits among you. This Legion has seen fighting in the frozen north during the Beastman Revolt, personally slaying the wretched abomination that led the misguided rebellion. It has seen order stabilised in regions thought ungovernable, and it will add the destruction of the rebellious Kepraini to its list of accomplishments, with your permission"

Pasekur made his best attempt to maintain his composure in the face of the Fyrae'ii and his venomous accusations. Those in his company who did not understand Rho'O'Ne's tongue had little reaction beyond bristling their fur. Some of those who did little to hide their annoyance. One kaprogor mage bared his teeth and uttered a light bleat. Skullsplitter in particular let out a bovine snort and regarded the Fyrae'ii with narrowed eyes. His temper was only barely kept in check by his (minimal) sense of decorum. When Ghar'zhul's mention crossed the snake's lips, he brayed in Beasttongue, 'You are not worthy to say his name, butcher!' He then brandished one of the legion skulls strapped to him bandolier in his hand.

'Silence, Skullsplitter, or there will be consequences!' yelled Paselur before calming himself. 'Good Magoi, surely you do not lend credence to Rho'O'Ne's accusatory statements? They are baseless in every possible sense. And he has no knowledge, no understanding of our traditions nor our way of life. I do not blame him, for it is in the nature of men to fear what they don't understand. He sees our sacred healing and calls it brutalizing. He looks at our appearance and calls us corrupted. He sees a beastman and decides the best course of action is to kill or enslave it. Indeed, it is in the wont of Fyrae to force all outlanders to kneel before them. In ages past, before the rise of their emperor playing at divinity, the beastmen of their lands were free. When the Fyrae'ii consolidated, the beastmen were forced to surrender and be enslaved or die. Such awaits the fate of any who would let the Fyrae'ii into their mist.' Pasekur turned to face the Fyrae'ii. 'You say the beastmen were ungovernable savages. If that is so, then how is it that the Mokrani have made peace and built a nation based on friendship between humans and beastmen? I will tell you why. It is because we do not butcher every living thing that does not immediately bow to us!

'You think that this legion of theirs is here solely to help? I would think not, Rho'O'Ne', said Pasekur, pointing at the armor-clad representative. 'I will not even touch too much on the great difficulty an army weighed down by metal would have trying to uproot a rebellion rooted in guerilla warfare. What would they do? Chase the Kepraini up their peaks? By the time a legionnaire could even get a steady pace going, he would be riddled with arrows, or taken by some rogue mage's spell. The mountaintops are no place for a traditional army. But beyond that, why do you think the legion is here? To intimidate you! They and their gaudy golden arms will inspire hope at first, but when the rebellion is quashed, they'd as soon turn their speartips towards the Tyrandians as they'd return to their godforsaken homeland. They did it to the beastmen of their homeland, they'll do it here given the chance. Do not trust them. Or the two of our northern powers, it is only the Mokrani who will not attempt to conquer your lands when this is over.'

[Keprain]

At the Village
The villagers were gathering supplies from all around, it seemed as if they were preparing a small banquet; there were meats, fruits, vegetables, and most importantly; alchohol. The fighters of the group were setting up perimiters, and proper shifts so that everyone would be able to take turns and enjoy the fun. Those who were too old, or too young, helped out by building what they could, or grilling the food. For entertainment, many women and men dressed in traditional attire; colourful shirts and wrappings covering various parts of their bodies. They practiced dancing, singing, and playing instruments.

"Ahem..." Said an older lady, "It seems that the preparataions are nearly complete..." she took a deep, pained breath, "We will celebrate our new friends with a feast, we haven't had many occassions for one, but this is a joyous one..." She coughed aloud, "So please, enjoy yourselves when they arrive!" She smiled, sitting down, closing her eyes to try to relax herself.

Soon after her statement, children began to play games with each other, chasing one another around, and throwing what looked like small balls filled with a faintly glowing paint-like substance in it; which exploded on impact, marking whatever, or whomever they hit. It seemed everyone was enjoying themselves.

Itashir, Ahiki, and Penanpe made themselves comfortable as the feast was prepared around them. All sorts of exotic sights, sounds, and smells surrounded them around the banquet. Ahiki and Penanpe were rather uncomfortable by the many heat sources, Penanpe visibly so. She shifted about, trying her best to keep her distance from the grilled foodstuffs. Ahiki seemed shifty dfor her part. Her eyes flitted about the banquet from person to person, holding for a while on the elderly woman speaking.

Itashir, for his part, could not seem to contain his enjoyment at the festivities. He danced with the entertainers to the sounds of Kepraini music, trying his best to mimic their traditional dances. He draped himself in an indigenously styled scarf and made merry with the locals. When the elder made her announcement, he came forth and listened intently before responding, 'Thank you for your most gracious welcome, praiseworthy elder.' He then turned to the crowd, 'and a thousand thanks to the people of Keprain for your generosity! We are truly honored to be among you. While we harbor no illusions about the difficulties that lie ahead, we shall stand beside you as if you were our own countryman, for your, nay, our cause is righteous. With Mulcarn's favor, we shall reign victorious in the war to come. But for now, let us not burden ourselves with thoughts of wars or tyrannical mage lords. Today is a day for happiness and merriment! Let us celebrate!'

With the festivities proceeding, the trio immersed themselves. Penanpe tentatively tried some of the meats, but not before flash freezing it with an ice spell when she thought no one was looking. She had no taste for food cooked over a flame. Ahiki ate even less than her, partaking in a few fruits. The stern-faced woman took the first opportunity to scout the village perimeter with some of the fighters. The spymistress never had much of a taste for celebrations. She found them annoying at best and shockingly wasteful at worst. Itashir on the other hand got lost even more in the banquet. Being from the Nogoon tribe of the Greenlands in southern Mokranshi, he was no stranger to warm weather nor warm food. The tribes of the Greenlands were famous in Mokranshi for their hardiness and (relative) resistance to heat. They were the only tribes to practice fire cooking, and were renowned for the culinary arts. For Itashir, this meant that he took to the Kepraini banquet with gusto, sampling every dish he could find. He made a mental note to leave an extra offering to Mulcarn if he did not have a stomach ache come morn.

When he was done with that, he joined the children and indulged in their fascinating game. Before the night was over, the Messenger was covered in all sorts of painted markings. He even managed to draw the otherwise reluctant Penanpe in by pelting her with a ball and coating her hair with paint. This ended up angering her enough to attempt the same to Itashir. And succeed for that matter, as the young scout was far more agile than him. He minded not, as Penanpe seemed to be enjoying herself by the end of it. Or at least, she was enjoying pelting the Messenger with magic balls. The festivities went on well into the night, for everyone was eager to take their minds off the struggles that were to come.

The ending of the celebrations
A group of children and elderly approach the northerners after the merriment, one young boy, barely able to walk comes forward and pokes at them curiously, "Um... Northerner people? We would like to thank you for coming... um..." he looks back at the older man, who nudges him forward, "We don't have much but we have a gift for you!" He hands out a few small necklaces, each with a hand-carved stone from the nearby caves. "These are Crystals that the magic people want, but to us they are art." He smiles, looking at the guests with glee.

"These are what the Magoi call Ampliphication Crystals. They are still raw and haven't gone through the process to be of much use... but we carve them into symbols that to us show who is our family and friends." The old man speaks up, pointing at the carvings, "These ones say you are close friends of the children of the village, thank you for giving them a break from the war." He too smiled, before turning away, with the children following behind, waving. It seems that the young and old are welcoming of these northerners, fully willing to let them live among them, as equals.

However, the fighters in the group are still skeptical, as they know of the band that was sent to Tykare, and aren't sure what to expect. They are willing to work alongside them, but not to trust them fully. Gregar, the leader of this particular band is always watching them, with suspicion and respect. He is willing to accept them, if they prove to be friends... or kill them if they prove to be enemies.

[Tyrandia]

Tyrandian southern Border crossing

A well maintained carriage rolls swiftly up the road carrying a young woman in her mid thirties who is staring bordly out the window as the scenery rolls by. Her personal bodyguard napping in the seat across from her while the rest of her guard detachment rides alongside the carriage destined for the capitol and the Magoi council.

She looks down into her hands and once again thumbs open the letter from Ninth Prince, Gu'Hae'Kar vi Gu'Liu'Rho'Stern, Grand Master of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order, and Holy Diplomat of the Eternal Throne detailing her mission to come into contact with the governing body of Tyrania and assess the state of the country for any information of value... Just another boring day for the Holy diplomat of the order. Just another stuffy dinner and talk with another bunch of old men, but she was good at her job and a professional if nothing else. The order demanded that, and the will of the Order is second only to the will of the Throne.

Once again closing her eyes and relaxing back into the plush seat of the carriage, she attempts to hasten the journey with sleep.

The Southern Border into Tyrandia
The border guards see the approaching carriage, escorted by warriors and call to it to slow down for inspection.

As the carriage slows to a halt, the guards step forward, "Who goes there? What business have you with Tyrandia? Are you friends of the illustrious Magoi, or foes -- like the Kepraini..." He was about to say more before he was nudged by his fellow guard, a younger lady but one whom seemed much more attentive.

"This carriage looks like one from the south... there's markings of that Holy Order... but what would they be doing here...?" She steps forward, asking the guards rather than the passenger, "Excuse me, we would like to know who seeks passage into our territory, and what your purpose is?" She asked politely, with a slight bow.

The other guard stays by, unsure what to expect as they await a response...

[Tyrandia]

Rho'O'Ne fought to keep his amusement of the savage's humiliation, albeit at the expense of the poor Northman they had most certainly killed trying to befoul him in such an unholy and ghastly way. Had the entire charade not been heretical, he might've even stifled a laugh. Instead, he motioned for Hae'Kar to rise from his seat when the Magoi requested that they show off what it was the Fyra'ii intended to deliver to the Tyrandian war effort. His entourage followed remained seated, their faces almost locked in stone.

"I come before you today, the Magoi Council, as a representative of Fyrae, the Eternal Empire. I'm most certain you've heard of us" he said, jokingly "Now, while I would certainly like to get the blasphemous and ugly image of the savage cow-men brutalising the uncorrupted human out of my head, I'm afraid that the Emperor deems I keep it in my head forever, so that we know what the Frozen Savages would do to us, if given the chance" he added, purposely prodding the savages with his words "What has the representative of the Most Eternal Empire and it's God-Emperor brought to show off? I can assure you, it is not soul-corrupting as the former fiasco demonstrated. Instead, I bid you to look outside of your city walls. There sits an Imperial Legion, armed and armoured to bring down any foe. This legion is the Eternal Legion, led by the Lord of the Fyrae'ii who sits among you. This Legion has seen fighting in the frozen north during the Beastman Revolt, personally slaying the wretched abomination that led the misguided rebellion. It has seen order stabilised in regions thought ungovernable, and it will add the destruction of the rebellious Kepraini to its list of accomplishments, with your permission"

Pasekur made his best attempt to maintain his composure in the face of the Fyrae'ii and his venomous accusations. Those in his company who did not understand Rho'O'Ne's tongue had little reaction beyond bristling their fur. Some of those who did little to hide their annoyance. One kaprogor mage bared his teeth and uttered a light bleat. Skullsplitter in particular let out a bovine snort and regarded the Fyrae'ii with narrowed eyes. His temper was only barely kept in check by his (minimal) sense of decorum. When Ghar'zhul's mention crossed the snake's lips, he brayed in Beasttongue, 'You are not worthy to say his name, butcher!' He then brandished one of the legion skulls strapped to him bandolier in his hand.

'Silence, Skullsplitter, or there will be consequences!' yelled Paselur before calming himself. 'Good Magoi, surely you do not lend credence to Rho'O'Ne's accusatory statements? They are baseless in every possible sense. And he has no knowledge, no understanding of our traditions nor our way of life. I do not blame him, for it is in the nature of men to fear what they don't understand. He sees our sacred healing and calls it brutalizing. He looks at our appearance and calls us corrupted. He sees a beastman and decides the best course of action is to kill or enslave it. Indeed, it is in the wont of Fyrae to force all outlanders to kneel before them. In ages past, before the rise of their emperor playing at divinity, the beastmen of their lands were free. When the Fyrae'ii consolidated, the beastmen were forced to surrender and be enslaved or die. Such awaits the fate of any who would let the Fyrae'ii into their mist.' Pasekur turned to face the Fyrae'ii. 'You say the beastmen were ungovernable savages. If that is so, then how is it that the Mokrani have made peace and built a nation based on friendship between humans and beastmen? I will tell you why. It is because we do not butcher every living thing that does not immediately bow to us!

'You think that this legion of theirs is here solely to help? I would think not, Rho'O'Ne', said Pasekur, pointing at the armor-clad representative. 'I will not even touch too much on the great difficulty an army weighed down by metal would have trying to uproot a rebellion rooted in guerilla warfare. What would they do? Chase the Kepraini up their peaks? By the time a legionnaire could even get a steady pace going, he would be riddled with arrows, or taken by some rogue mage's spell. The mountaintops are no place for a traditional army. But beyond that, why do you think the legion is here? To intimidate you! They and their gaudy golden arms will inspire hope at first, but when the rebellion is quashed, they'd as soon turn their speartips towards the Tyrandians as they'd return to their godforsaken homeland. They did it to the beastmen of their homeland, they'll do it here given the chance. Do not trust them. Or the two of our northern powers, it is only the Mokrani who will not attempt to conquer your lands when this is over.'

In the Council Chambers
The room was filled with debate; some siding with the beastmen, and others with the Fyrae'ii. Both had valid arguments, but both could be viewed as equally dangerous allies. The debates grew louder and louder, and seemed to be going nowhere.

Magoi Sokia slammed her staff onto the floor of the podium to silence the room, "Silence!" She yelled, and the room fell silent. She took a deep breath and continued, "Dear guests from Mokranshi, firstly, your points are well made, and we understand the pain you have at seeing these guests of Fyrae'ii. That being said, they; like yourselves, come here in good faith. And your presentation leaves much to be desired... but your magic itself can still be of great assistance to us. We would ask if you would be willing to display it in action, assist a brigade in the defeat of a rebel cell, and we would gladly open discussions further, and perhaps even include some... religious talks." She emphasized the last words, as she knew that the most important thing is to secure Tyrandia from rebellion, at any cost.

A few moments later she turned to the Fyrae'ii, "Dear guests from Fyrae'ii, we understand your concerns and we see your army is strong. We know you don't have anything to present to us in here, but would you be willing to hunt down a different rebel cell? The Mokranshi say you will do poorly due to the mountains, but I'm certain that you've come prepared for them, correct? Otherwise the Mokranshi would be correct that you came just for a display, I sincerely hope that you've come in good faith, and would greatly welcome your assistance." She smiled, knowing that they could only have one of the two as an ally most likely; they would need to see whom was best suited for the fights ahead...

The room silently awaited a response from either party.

[Mokranshi]

The ending of the celebrations
A group of children and elderly approach the northerners after the merriment, one young boy, barely able to walk comes forward and pokes at them curiously, "Um... Northerner people? We would like to thank you for coming... um..." he looks back at the older man, who nudges him forward, "We don't have much but we have a gift for you!" He hands out a few small necklaces, each with a hand-carved stone from the nearby caves. "These are Crystals that the magic people want, but to us they are art." He smiles, looking at the guests with glee.

"These are what the Magoi call Ampliphication Crystals. They are still raw and haven't gone through the process to be of much use... but we carve them into symbols that to us show who is our family and friends." The old man speaks up, pointing at the carvings, "These ones say you are close friends of the children of the village, thank you for giving them a break from the war." He too smiled, before turning away, with the children following behind, waving. It seems that the young and old are welcoming of these northerners, fully willing to let them live among them, as equals.

However, the fighters in the group are still skeptical, as they know of the band that was sent to Tykare, and aren't sure what to expect. They are willing to work alongside them, but not to trust them fully. Gregar, the leader of this particular band is always watching them, with suspicion and respect. He is willing to accept them, if they prove to be friends... or kill them if they prove to be enemies.

Itashir was cleaning up when he was approached by a young Kepraini, or rather a group of young Kepraini and some of their elders. He listened as the child in front offered him a pretty necklace. When both the child and the elder were done explaining, he took the necklace Andy offered a gentle smile. 'Thank you, young one,' he said. 'You truly are too kind.' Itashir looked at the elder. 'Your people's generosity speaks volumes about your nature. I truly am glad to stand for the righteous side.' He gave a wave as the group went off in their own direction and took a closer look at the bauble engraved into the jewelry. It had a bit of a shimmer to it, one that reminded Itashir of the crystal cave back in the mountains. They hardly had the touch of a guildworthy craftsman, but were carved into an appealing enough shape. The grooves and edges seemed to form a symbol, one that apparently marked the newfound friendship that had blossomed today. He smiled again at the thought.
When Itashir finally made it back to the cave, he found Penanpe waiting out front, gazing at the village as the lights dimmed and people retired to their homes. Then she looked at the Messenger. 'It took you long enough to finish your consorting with the Kepraini, didn't it, faithful Messenger?' Her toned dripped with sarcasm.
Indignant, Itashir replied, 'Even if you don't give a yak's arse about the plight of these people, surely you can understand the practicality of getting to know your hosts?'
'Hosts that I'm sure are waiting for the right opportunity to exile us.'
'Funny, that thought didn't seem to bother you when you were playing games with the young.'
'Enough,' came a stern voice from inside the cave. At the shrine, Ahiki was in a meditative state, inhaling fumes from a pile of crushed Everice. While she was no proper diviner, she hoped her skills in magic would be sufficient to see into the outcome of the delegation at Tykare. So far, the fumes only returned very blurry visions, and a foreboding dread. Best not let that weigh her down, though. She had her own mission to follow. Behind her, Penanoe and Itashir stepped into the cave. 'Good news, spymistress!' announced the Messenger. 'I have received a necklace, a token of friendship between our people. I think we have truly made some good headway into our task.' He proudly brandished a shiny bauble, one whose shimmer looked familiar to her, like the caves in the mountains. She took a closer look at it before interrogating Itashir on what he discussed with the Kepraini. When he mentioned the elder's description of the jewel in he necklace, her eyes lit up knowingly. Holding the necklace, she said, 'I think everything is starting to become clear. These crystals, what the Kepraini use for crafting, they are used by the Magoi. And in great demand, I wager. There were no crystals like this I Never tyrandia that we could see until we reached the Kepraini mountains. I cannot prove it, but I think that this crystal may be a clue towards the heart of this rebellion. Perhaps the Magic were forcing the Kepraini to dig up crystals for them, and the reason they're fighting back so hard is over these crystals.'
She turned back to Itashir and Penanpe. 'We have a new task. Beyond just helping the Kepraini, we need to find out more about these crystals. What they can't do, why the Magic wanted them, and if they have a connection to the rebellion. For now, we'll retire to sleep. Come morn, we'll get to work aiding the rebels as well as seeking out information. Everything may have become more complicated.'

[Bakvae]

Tyrandian southern Border crossing

A well maintained carriage rolls swiftly up the road carrying a young woman in her mid thirties who is staring bordly out the window as the scenery rolls by. Her personal bodyguard napping in the seat across from her while the rest of her guard detachment rides alongside the carriage destined for the capitol and the Magoi council.

She looks down into her hands and once again thumbs open the letter from Ninth Prince, Gu'Hae'Kar vi Gu'Liu'Rho'Stern, Grand Master of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order, and Holy Diplomat of the Eternal Throne detailing her mission to come into contact with the governing body of Tyrania and assess the state of the country for any information of value... Just another boring day for the Holy diplomat of the order. Just another stuffy dinner and talk with another bunch of old men, but she was good at her job and a professional if nothing else. The order demanded that, and the will of the Order is second only to the will of the Throne.

Once again closing her eyes and relaxing back into the plush seat of the carriage, she attempts to hasten the journey with sleep.

The Southern Border into Tyrandia
The border guards see the approaching carriage, escorted by warriors and call to it to slow down for inspection.

As the carriage slows to a halt, the guards step forward, "Who goes there? What business have you with Tyrandia? Are you friends of the illustrious Magoi, or foes -- like the Kepraini..." He was about to say more before he was nudged by his fellow guard, a younger lady but one whom seemed much more attentive.

"This carriage looks like one from the south... there's markings of that Holy Order... but what would they be doing here...?" She steps forward, asking the guards rather than the passenger, "Excuse me, we would like to know who seeks passage into our territory, and what your purpose is?" She asked politely, with a slight bow.

The other guard stays by, unsure what to expect as they await a response...

The escort nearest the border guards speaks up "We are on Official Business of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order. Escorting Lady Dea'Hae'I vi Rho'Uu'Ys, Holy Diplomat of the Eternal Throne, and Holy Diplomat of the Bak'Ee'Ne'Vae Order to speak with the Magoi council and ascertain the status of this civil war that seems to be weighing so heavily upon your brothers and sisters." the escort glances at the border guard who spoke first.

Meanwhile in the cabin of the carriage, the stoppage rouses the occupants from their brief naps. Yawning slightly, Lady Dea'Hae'I and her personal guard Chu'Ne'Ae, look out through the day curtain to see the interaction. "So the news was true... not that its ever been wrong yet, but still you expect some embellishment." Chu'Ne'Ae murmurs, uninterested at the exchange happening outside the cabin and turning her attention to the diplomat sitting across the aisle as she rubs sleep from her eyes. "So I see you got some sleep too lil sis, that's good considering we have a full day ahead of us." Lady Dea'Hae'I continues to look out the window, studying the demeanor of the border watch "Yep, and it looks as if we'll be walking into an interesting situation after all with how tense they are out here already. But its hardly of concern to us how their war is going in the end." She looks over to the far side of the cabin "But I'm glad you didn't die over there, you've been asleep for hours. And remember, none of that 'little sister' business while were on the clock." But she receives nothing but a hearty chuckle in response.

Back outside the carriage with the escorts and border guards. "never the less, I assume that we are clear to continue on our way to the council? I'm sure that we have displayed all the necessary documents and that you have no apparent reason to believe that we are here for any other task than to simply make our way to the capitol." The escort says with a questioning tone and a slight smile as he hands the travel documents back to the driver who places them back into his satchel and readies the carriage.