The Grand Nicholia-Abiottis War (IC, MT-PMT, Semi-Open)

by **Grand Nicholia** » Sun May 10, 2015 8:56 pm

Ignore, copied by accident!

by **Grand Nicholia** » Sun May 10, 2015 8:56 pm

Claanyad wrote:
Grand Nicholia wrote:"Get those runaways! There are two girls on the run throughout the palace! Bring the marked one to me dead, bring the Crown Princess to be to the Elephant room!" yelled the Guard into a walkie talkie to the Guards. By marked one he meant Aya. And By Elephant Room he meant the room Aya was in. The Crown Princess to be could be charged with treason. The Guards could act as they please as the Royal Family was not near. He could have Corhana shot dead if he wanted. If the Crown Prince was here, he would of defended his Fiance faithfully and the King would have Corhana pardoned. The Guard acted as Guard, judge, and executioner all at the same time. He wanted Aya dead, Corhana locked in a room with communication to the outside world. He would not care if it would cause an international incident! He and his guards chased them down the hall, and eventually gave permission to shoot tranquilizer darts at them. As they ran down the hall they eventually reached the back door, where Corhana made the decision to.....

Corhána tried to open the door, but it was locked. As the guards came closer to her, she shouted, but it seemed indistinct. No, it was Clányan. She was shouting to no-one in particular in Clányan, a language foreign to Nicholia. She continued shouting, not really thinking about what she was shouting about, just shouting instinctively. She felt a dart hit her in the neck, and her shouting trailed off, as her mind went blank and she fell to the ground.

As the Crown Princess to be fell to the floor unconscious, Aya screamed "No!" Aya was carried to the old dungeons of the Castle-turned-palace. And the Princess Corhana was carried to the to the Elephant room where they placed a bed and she was left there to rest. She was stripped of all telecommunication devices and locked in the Elephant Room. But they used weak tranquilizer darts that could only knock out a person for 30 minutes at most and Corhana was expected to wake up quickly. Aya was locked in a cell and was to be killed when the cyberbots attacked. Aya was crying horribly as she awaited her fate. "This was an easy victory! We have saved our lives by putting those two away! The Princess Aya is to be killed when the Foreign Robots arrive and Corhana is to be put on trial in a Military Court!" Happily yelled Chief Guard, Erellyn Marche. "But, sir if we put Princess Corhana on Military Trial, it would cause an international incident." calmly explained one guard. "True, I guess we leave Corhana in there." Replied Marche as he was sitting down at his desk. "Even then, the Crown Prince would have your head on a pike if he figures out you locked her in there!" joked another guard. "Why would the Crown Prince care so much about his wife!? She is only a foreigner and only knew her for a day prior!" hollered another guard. "Not wife, Fiance! Due to this damned war, not even the nobility can make time!" said anoher.

by **Claanyad** » Sun May 10, 2015 10:34 pm

The bridge seemed very different to any Clányan bridge, or even any foreign bridges he had seen. He looked around, then at the Admiral. He had been listening, but with interest in other things.
"What have your reconnaissance planes found? How is the concentration of enemy soldiers in Grand Nicholia itself? Because we have been planning something different to what we imagine you were."
An aide who had followed him onto the ship walked onto the bridge at the Lord High Commander's request. He put down some maps of the region.
"We are planning of entering via Sichou. It will allow us to pass to the South of Grand Nicholia, better terrain for our tactics and better proximity to the defence of our interests. We are allowed to enter via a major valley at the East of Sichou, and then make our way to the mountains in order to defend our alliance," he kept himself from rolling his eyes, but sighed slightly. He still felt no sense of affinity towards the Nicholians, "Meanwhile, scouts will be sent ahead to clear the area. We will be allowed four days in Sichou, and by then, we must be gone, or else we become enemies of Sichou too. Our limited access begins tomorrow, and we have the supplies to get through to the mountains."
Lord High Commander Cascus folded his arms. He was proud of the plan, if not the reason for it.

Corhána awoke slowly, still feeling groggy. She felt her neck, and felt the small indent where the dart had been shot. She struggled to remember why she was tranquillised, but suddenly remembered in one burst.
"Aya!" She exclaimed, as she ran for the door. Finding it locked, she began to think. Apparently they had found the device in her pocket, but the message was already sent. It was a 10 minute recording device which, once the 10 minutes had elapsed, would send the recording to her father, the Emperor. He should be fuming by now, she said, consumed by a fear and a hope she had not seen before. Fear for what this meant for her fiancée or the alliance and hope for her father coming to rescue her. She was starting to dislike some of the Nicholian people - namely the guards, and that one archbishop with whom she had had the displeasure of meeting weeks prior. They had proven themselves to be loyal to tyranny, and she could not accept that. As she sat in the 'Elephant Room', she considered what she could do. She could wait for her father, but that was not the Clányan way. No, she must be brave, cunning, and clever to defy the odds and leave, even if it meant leaving her beloved Prince Philippe behind, whom she did love, even if not the rest of the people in this Yúrh forsaken place. She would be careful and clever, and only then could she leave Grand Nicholia.

Getúmen did not fancy the handshake either, but he figured it was the only gesture which they both knew which showed respect. Of course, he could have tried an Altan custom, but he would be scoffed at for getting it wrong most likely. He was happy to have found a friend, even if he would face him in combat tomorrow. As the giant wolf Raull licked his hand, he felt a warmth there, and a trust. He could have stuck his tacal through his head, or Raull could have bitten his hand off then kept the rest of Getúmen as a meal. However, he knew that rider, animal and chall all had an understanding. And if chall meant exactly what Getúmen thought it meant, then he was happy to be the mutual chall of such a great man.
He called over to his guards.
"You boys - over here."
The guards reluctantly came, some groggy and drunk, others tired, some less readable than others. They all came over to where Getúmen stood.
"As you know, there will be a battle tomorrow. Honour dictates that we shall both fight our hardest, and to the death. I am the one who shall die tomorrow."
The guards let up an uproar of disbelief and disagreement.
"But Getúmen, you are the greatest fighter that I have ever seen," one Guard piped up, "You can vault your body around a tacal better than any man, you can cut fruit falling at terminal velocity, you can stab an ant crawling across the floor with one stroke. How could you lose?"
"I will fight with you if I have to!" said a younger, more eager, and perhaps more drunk member of the group.
"No, you shan't. I have had an omen from the gods. I shall die tomorrow - I must die tomorrow, and no amount of skill shall save me."
Many of them gasped, but one shook his head in disbelief.
"You still believe in Yúrh and all that? Omens and signs and miracles? Have you any sense?"
"Yes, but I still have the sense to know that Yúrh has intervened in the past and can again. And unless I am somehow saved by the First Son of Destiny, then I shall die, no question. When I appointed you my Second in Command, Erhas, I did not expect you to take our customs so lightly."
Erhas Ceŧfenyac Nomoloic bowed his head. He knew that he had been scolded.
"I still want you to be the one to take me back to Clányad. Speak for me after the battle, treat with Azan as far as necessary, and organise for a funeral in Clányad. I still wish to be remembered."
"We know nothing of your family, Getúmen," Erhas said, "We have never heard your patronymic name nor your last name. We cannot find your family."
Getúmen nearly opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shrugging it off, "It doesn't matter about them. I had abandoned them many years ago, as I took up my position as beśafad. Just promise me that the last words I tell you as I die, you tell to the Emperor, my beśahárí."
Erhas nodded, "Just make sure you live that long."
Getúmen nodded, then continued.
"Listen close - I am sure that at some point far too close to now, relations will suffer between Clányad and Grand Nicholia. Should you find yourselves on the opposite side to that which you are in now, then go to Azan, and you shall tell him... Tell him that the Empire is waking."
This filled the guards each with pride, and they raised their heads and felt proud inside.
Erhas was the first to speak. "We shall, Đátá."
"Đátá."
"Đátá!"
This began a chorus of men saying Đátá to Getúmen, and they each put their hands on him. Getúmen was in half a mind to shrug them off, but decided against it. He would die with honour, and if this was how his own men honoured him, then so be it. Đátá in the Clányan language means honour, or in this context, honoured one. As they finished their chanting, they took their hands off him.
"Thank you, brothers. Now, sleep. Sharpen your tacals, or your swords, or your arrows. For tomorrow, I shall fight, and you must live on. Hail to the Empire!"
"Maho gota Aeðe Śolán!" They shouted in unison. They all left, all to sleep in their tents or hammocks. As Getúmen laid in his hammock, he prayed to each god separately.
"...Couraf, for wisdom. Rhol, for anger. Cuś, for inventiveness. Húð, for cunning. Rhas, for forgiveness. Beś, for my beśahárí..."
He paused. He considered what to say to Yúrh. Then, he remembered.
"And Yúrh, for my family - for the last true Sons of Yúrh."

The Emperor was listening to the tape he had received from Corhána. He listened to it over and over - especially the important parts. He was sitting in his office, dark, alone and at night. He played it again and again.
"Níćolya... Áya... Géiha beféisa... Gahá ðona..."
He heard the whoosh of the tranquilliser dart. Her voice faltered and trilled.
"Vetinya..."
Then came the thud of Corhána hitting the floor.
Some final voices were heard, all speaking Anglo Saxon. The Emperor was too angry and bitter to translate it. The tape cut out. He had been holding a pen in his hand - it was now a twisted mess of metal and ink. His hand had taken on a bluish hue thanks to the spilled contents of the pen, and he tossed it aside. Grand Nicholia would pay for this affront to Clányad. Though he knew he would be told to calm down, he had to confront the Nicholians about this. He picked up a new pen, and vowed silently that he would not destroy it this time. He would use it as a sword - to battle with the Nicholians.

The Deplorable King Nicholas XVI.

So, we agree to allow your son to marry my daughter, we form a coalition with you, we fight a war to assist your people, and I send my beśafad - my sworn ally - to danger at the hands of those ruthless barbarians and what do you do? What you do is you send my Generals meaningless commands, all written in codes which need not exist, tell them different information to send them into disarray, you torture innocent people, and what's more, you now presumably hold my daughter captive. I am her father - I know her words, and if I have to fly over there to slap you around the head with "Cílányane for Dummies" to get you to understand us, then so be it!
This is an affront to all we believe in, and we hold dearly to what we believe in! I am not amused by your antics!
I shall tell you what you will do - you shall release my daughter back to me, annul the wedding plans, and this 'Áya' whom you are trying to kill - you will take her to our care. I am sure that Abiottis would like to have their princess back. And if you do not comply with all of these demands, then we shall declare war - siding with those Abiottis gyeŧat cofadgeŧ if we have to!
You have forty-eight hours.

Most ungratefully,
Emperor Cacsus VII Cecerv Cívereś

by **Azi Altul** » Mon May 11, 2015 11:30 am

Azan awoke early, which was abnormal for him. He usually was a deep sleeper, sleeping soundly until noon. One of his wives, a girl by the name of Tahlia, who has seen nigh on three and a half decades, stirred awake from her place next to him. She sat up and wrapped her slender arms around his shoulder, whispering ancient Altan into his ear. She wished him luck in the upcoming battle. Azan stirred Raull awake, the great wolf had been sleeping against the side of the bed. Azan sympathized with the great wolf, as he could not fit on the bed. Azan knew that feeling, having to practically hold his knees to his chest to fit on the six foot long cot.
Raull stood, and stretched his muscular legs. He trotted happily out of the tent, his great body barely fitting through the entryway. Azan grabbed his great fascis, and donned his shoulder plates. Today would be a very eventful day, for the great warrior chall Getúmen would prove one of the deadliest adversaries Azan had ever faced. He knew he would kill the man, but the question was how unscathed Azan would leave. He expected to gain a new assortment of scars from the great chall, but that was to be expected.
As he left his tent, he saw the battle ring had been finished. The fire had been lit, and the spears had been properly secured in the dirt. The aura around the camp was that of glee, as the Altan people loved a good brawl; especially one between challs. It appeared Getúmen had not yet woken, but the metal man, who Azan had quickly discovered never slept, remained in the same place he had since the festivities began. He held a small, metal bird in his hands, which appeared to be shaped like a great eagle. With a whisper, the bird's wings began flapping, and it flew off into the forest mindlessly.
Azan cared not for the metal man's witchcraft, but he knew it would prove necessary to defeat the coalition. The fires of the fighting pit raged, and he could feel their resonating heat from his standing place, around twenty feet away. It would, as usual, prove almost just as deadly as whatever adversary was in the pit with a person. Raull made sure to avoid the flames, as he had suffered a burn as a pup, that had forever scarred him.
The great wolf was getting old, just as Azan was. The huge beasts had a lifespan mildly above the average human, and more often than not found themselves riderless, or vise versa. The vaethis species had been a crucial part in the southland's development, both in terms of protection and culture. They were the perfect partners, the great wolves, and were fiercely loyal and intelligent. Raull was getting old, Azan knew, even though he still had a long life ahead of him, if all went well. In the battle at the mountain valley, Raull had fallen carrying Azan's limp body, hurting his hip. He walked with a slight limp, and that saddened the great R†hul. Although, he knew he faired no better. In his youth, he would have stormed the mountain palace, mounted on his young, black beast, crushed their castle walls alone, and claimed the young princess for himself. Alas, the fruit of youth had escaped Azan, and he was feeling his follies like he never had when he was young. That was fine, though, for soon Azan would take his place among the hordes of the day's sky, as the new Rider himself.
Azan sat against a tree next to his tent, and sharpened the sword that would cleave his chall's head from his shoulder. The thought saddened Azan, but it had to be done.

by **Sperland** » Mon May 11, 2015 11:44 am

10 miles of the Grand Nicholian coast

The reinforcements had arrived from the Imperial Conglomerate homeland. All these troops were commanded by the military genius Labhrás.

Code: Select all: We have arrived at your coastline. Permission to land?

25,000 troops, 100 Lion tanks and 15 rocket launchers were sent to attack the Altans under the command of Labhrás. They would quickly raid there positions and weaken them.

by **Balashov** » Mon May 11, 2015 1:18 pm

When the Lord High Commander asked about reconnaissance planes, the room fell silent. Only the beep of the radar and the low hum of the machinery occupied the room. Admiral Burgiak cleared his throat before speaking up, "We sent out a reconnaissance plane last night. It malfunctioned and crashed in the middle of GN territory. The pilot tragically died, and a teams sent to retrieve his remains was attacked by the Altans. Unfortunately, none survived. Going into this conflict, I had little idea why were fighting for these imbeciles called the Grand Nicholians. I will continue to follow my King's orders without question, but moments like this make me rethink the reason why we are here. Our King has ordered military intervention only because of our ties to your empire, Commander Cascus. However, as much as I am aligned to you and your nation, I do not see clearly why we support these Nicholians. They are incompetent and refuse to respond to our messages. I understand your reasons for fighting, I just don't see ours." the Admiral paused, "I'm sorry Commander Cascus, I went off on a tangent I should not have. Let me get back to your questions."

He pointed to the map of Grand Nicholia. "We are sending more recon planes out shortly, but at the moment our intel is hazy. That is why I want to know what you have - the Nicholians for some reason or other will not reveal to us where our planes and artillery is needed, so we can are lame ducks until we get information. At the moment, however, I can offer some assistance to you. You say your troops will beach in East Sichou here" his finger pointed to a spot on the map, "and the valley runs this way into GN. I can concentrate some flyovers and recon missions to the border here to see if there will be any resistance for your troops. If there are, we can position our fleet so that are long-range guns can hit their locations, as well as send bombers and fighter jets. Anything to make your approach as easy as possible. We can also escort your fleet to that location, then navigate ourselves off the coast of Grand Nicholia to provide support if needed."

Interior of the HRS Voychovic Glersnia - Balashovian Prison Ship
In the deep interior of the prison ship sat Bassho, the Altan who was captured at the crash site. He remain zip-tied, but now he was sitting on a steel chair. His head remained covered by a black bag. He sat alone in the middle of a cell, in a darkened isolation ward. All was quiet except the creaking of the ship as it rocked in the waves, and the occasional clanking of boots a floor above. A group of men began walking down the hallway, their boots making loud noises. As they neared Bassho's cell, they began to talk. "Mikhail, how do you plan on questioning him?" one said.

"Be paitent, Zopa, he seems to still be asleep. Wake him up, private."

Following that last sentence, a loud clang resonated throughout the ward as the guard slammed his baton into the bars of the cell. At first, the man remained asleep, but as the guard continued hitting the bars, Bassho's muscles began to move as he tried to move his hands and feet.

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 2:02 pm

"Your Excellent Majesty, we have received a letter from the Emperor of Claanyad! It is dire news!" hollered a servant. "What? How bad could it be? Give it here!" replied the curious King. "What does this thing say?"

Image
The Deplorable King Nicholas XVI.

So, we agree to allow your son to marry my daughter, we form a coalition with you, we fight a war to assist your people, and I send my beśafad - my sworn ally - to danger at the hands of those ruthless barbarians and what do you do? What you do is you send my Generals meaningless commands, all written in codes which need not exist, tell them different information to send them into disarray, you torture innocent people, and what's more, you now presumably hold my daughter captive. I am her father - I know her words, and if I have to fly over there to slap you around the head with "Cílányane for Dummies" to get you to understand us, then so be it!
This is an affront to all we believe in, and we hold dearly to what we believe in! I am not amused by your antics!
I shall tell you what you will do - you shall release my daughter back to me, annul the wedding plans, and this 'Áya' whom you are trying to kill - you will take her to our care. I am sure that Abiottis would like to have their princess back. And if you do not comply with all of these demands, then we shall declare war - siding with those Abiottis gyeŧat cofadgeŧ if we have to!
You have forty-eight hours.

Most ungratefully,
Emperor Cacsus VII Cecerv Cívereś

"What!? What!? Those high horsed Claanyans think their so dandy! eh!? One little mistake and they cry wolf! I will have them know that I never gave an order to imprison Corhana! You there! Page! Fetch me paper and send word to the Crown Prince to head back to the Palace and free Corhana! Time to write a letter!" yelled the King. The King was furious that the Claanyans would threaten the alliance and was shaking at that thought of that. His letter wrote:

To His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Claanyad,

I am saddened by your decisiveness to call off our alliance. I wish for you to end your deadline. I will let you know that I never gave any orders to imprison your daughter. The person who did shall be stripped of their position. Your daughter shall be released on the conditions that the wedding plans be reinstalled and that your participation in this war continue. You can have Aya if you agree to the terms above. Accept our terms please.

Sincerely,
His Excellent Majesty, Nicholas XVI

"Phew...."

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 2:34 pm

"Mother Mary, you know that I am a righteous man, Yet you curse me with lust. Why is it that I desire the young lady?! Oh mother of the Son of Heaven, answer me so! Will I ever escape this curse!? I cry from the deepest abyss! Answer me!" cried the Archbishop of Arras as kneeled in front of a statue of Mary. He imagined a hundreds of angels coming from basilica and floating him. He imagined them chanting "Fix this now!" "Get out of this mess!" He replied back to his imaginary figures by saying "It's not my fault! Its the witch who set this flame! How can our savior make the Devil so much stronger than a man?!" He imagined the Angels coming closer to him and he yelled out "I'll get myself out of this! I promise! I will subdue the devil!" The Angels of his mind came closer and he threw an altar bell at them and screamed "Just give me more time!" The Angels disappeared after he threw the altar bell. The Archbishop now became determined to kill Travvy.
The Archbishop later decided to poison Travvy by sending her a bottle of Sparkling water that contains arsenic and other poisonous goods. He told a servant to hand it to Travvy and tell her it was from the Duke of Cremonia, Jorge Dellovas. It was a daring plan. He had a hitman prepare to carry her body away and bury her. The Archbishop waited for all the hours for the result.

by **Azi Altul** » Mon May 11, 2015 3:36 pm

"Mother Mary, you know that I am a righteous man, Yet you curse me with lust. Why is it that I desire the young lady?! Oh mother of the Son of Heaven, answer me so! Will I ever escape this curse!? I cry from the deepest abyss! Answer me!" cried the Archbishop of Arras as kneeled in front of a statue of Mary. He imagined a hundreds of angels coming from basilica and floating him. He imagined them chanting "Fix this now!" "Get out of this mess!" He replied back to his imaginary figures by saying "It's not my fault! Its the witch who set this flame! How can our savior make the Devil so much stronger than a man?!" He imagined the Angels coming closer to him and he yelled out "I'll get myself out of this! I promise! I will subdue the devil!" The Angels of his mind came closer and he threw an altar bell at them and screamed "Jut give me more time!" The Angels disappeared after he threw the altar bell. The Archbishop now became determined to kill Travvy.
The Archbishop later decided to poison Travvy by sending her a bottle of Sparkling water that contains arsenic and other poisonous goods. He told a servant to hand it to Travvy and tell her it was from the Duke of Cremonia, Jorge Dellovas. It was a daring plan. He had a hitman prepare to carry her body away and bury her. The Archbishop waited for all the hours.

Travvy awoke, in the midst of the night, with the maid shaking her.
"Come, young one! The archbishop is planning to kill you!" Travvy's eyes grew wide, and she bolted up from her cot. Her red hair was in a tangle, and her arms were sore from the beating the twisted man had given her the previous night. Luckily, she had an ally in the heathen lands, so she wasn't completely alone. She felt a mix of terror and excitement, and she quickly grabbed for her cloth shirt. The archbishop had forbidden her to sleep clothed. He had never touched her, in that sense, but she knew he hungered for her. She had grown used to men desiring her, but had always used violent tactics to avoid being cornered. She had thought herself safe, when she took Azan as a husband, but she had foolishly left the Altan camp and gotten captured. She had failed, in her attempts to escape evil men, but she would not let them break her. Travvy had fought the archbishop tooth and nail, and now she was going to escape him.
No, not escape. Kill. She was going to rip that slimy piece of shit's balls off and feed them to him. Finally wearing her shirt, Travvy walked quietly out of the room with the nurse. There was a guard sitting by, with his head down, snoring lightly. The maid held a finger to her lips, shushing her, but Travvy ignored her. The guard had a knife on his belt, and Travvy stole it. It would come in handy. She jammed it into the guard's knee, and clapsed his mouth shut with her fingers, giving him her warmest smile.
"Good morning, sweetie! How's your nap?" She tried to give a girlish giggle."Sorry to interrupt you, but I need some help. Please, can I have that gun? Thanks!"
She took the knife from the man's knee, and jammed it into his throat. When he had bled out completely, she removed the knife, and took his gun. It was a small handgun, but it should suffice if she needed it. She ripped a piece of cloth from her dress, and tied the gun to her waist. The maid looked at her with a mild fear, but she soon calmed down. She understood the necessity. They walked slowly and quietly, eventually crouching behind a corner a few feet away from the guard's main chambers. There were seven of them in there, at the moment, drunk, but the archbishop was nowhere to be seen. She'd take the guards out, quietly, and get the archbishop later.

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 3:49 pm

Azi Altul wrote:
"Mother Mary, you know that I am a righteous man, Yet you curse me with lust. Why is it that I desire the young lady?! Oh mother of the Son of Heaven, answer me so! Will I ever escape this curse!? I cry from the deepest abyss! Answer me!" cried the Archbishop of Arras as kneeled in front of a statue of Mary. He imagined a hundreds of angels coming from basilica and floating him. He imagined them chanting "Fix this now!" "Get out of this mess!" He replied back to his imaginary figures by saying "It's not my fault! Its the witch who set this flame! How can our savior make the Devil so much stronger than a man?!" He imagined the Angels coming closer to him and he yelled out "I'll get myself out of this! I promise! I will subdue the devil!" The Angels of his mind came closer and he threw an altar bell at them and screamed "Jut give me more time!" The Angels disappeared after he threw the altar bell. The Archbishop now became determined to kill Travvy.
The Archbishop later decided to poison Travvy by sending her a bottle of Sparkling water that contains arsenic and other poisonous goods. He told a servant to hand it to Travvy and tell her it was from the Duke of Cremonia, Jorge Dellovas. It was a daring plan. He had a hitman prepare to carry her body away and bury her. The Archbishop waited for all the hours.

Travvy awoke, in the midst of the night, with the maid shaking her.
"Come, young one! The archbishop is planning to kill you!" Travvy's eyes grew wide, and she bolted up from her cot. Her red hair was in a tangle, and her arms were sore from the beating the twisted man had given her the previous night. Luckily, she had an ally in the heathen lands, so she wasn't completely alone. She felt a mix of terror and excitement, and she quickly grabbed for her cloth shirt. The archbishop had forbidden her to sleep clothed. He had never touched her, in that sense, but she knew he hungered for her. She had grown used to men desiring her, but had always used violent tactics to avoid being cornered. She had thought herself safe, when she took Azan as a husband, but she had foolishly left the Altan camp and gotten captured. She had failed, in her attempts to escape evil men, but she would not let them break her. Travvy had fought the archbishop tooth and nail, and now she was going to escape him.
No, not escape. Kill. She was going to rip that slimy piece of shit's balls off and feed them to him. Finally wearing her shirt, Travvy walked quietly out of the room with the nurse. There was a guard sitting by, with his head down, snoring lightly. The maid held a finger to her lips, shushing her, but Travvy ignored her. The guard had a knife on his belt, and Travvy stole it. It would come in handy. She jammed it into the guard's knee, and clapsed his mouth shut with her fingers, giving him her warmest smile.
"Good morning, sweetie! How's your nap?" She tried to give a girlish giggle."Sorry to interrupt you, but I need some help. Please, can I have that gun? Thanks!"
She took the knife from the man's knee, and jammed it into his throat. When he had bled out completely, she removed the knife, and took his gun. It was a small handgun, but it should suffice if she needed it. She ripped a piece of cloth from her dress, and tied the gun to her waist. The maid looked at her with a mild fear, but she soon calmed down. She understood the necessity. They walked slowly and quietly, eventually crouching behind a corner a few feet away from the guard's main chambers. There were seven of them in there, at the moment, and the archbishop was nowhere to be seen. She'd take the guards out, quietly, and get the archbishop later.

The sparkling water never made it to Travvy because when the servant got their, she was gone. The servant quickly informed the Archbishop. To which the Archbishop responded with "Ah, so the devil has awaken?!" He grabbed his world famous hunting rifle, "Lucy", which has a record of 200 deer, 53 moose and 247 ducks. The Archbishop also tied his sword to his side and prepared to fight. He was experienced in fighting because his father had been a Corporal in the Army and the Archbishop was once a Marshall- Captain in the Army after only a year of service. The Archbishop walked through the halls with his weapons at hand and with 3 guards and was ready to kill the ungrateful whore, Travvy. He eventually found her and took out "Lucy" and was prepared to shoot along with the 3 guards at Travvy. They all shot at once at Travvy, hoping to stop her dead in her tracks.....

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 6:08 pm

Balashov wrote:When the Lord High Commander asked about reconnaissance planes, the room fell silent. Only the beep of the radar and the low hum of the machinery occupied the room. Admiral Burgiak cleared his throat before speaking up, "We sent out a reconnaissance plane last night. It malfunctioned and crashed in the middle of GN territory. The pilot tragically died, and a teams sent to retrieve his remains was attacked by the Altans. Unfortunately, none survived. Going into this conflict, I had little idea why were fighting for these imbeciles called the Grand Nicholians. I will continue to follow my King's orders without question, but moments like this make me rethink the reason why we are here. Our King has ordered military intervention only because of our ties to your empire, Commander Cascus. However, as much as I am aligned to you and your nation, I do not see clearly why we support these Nicholians. They are incompetent and refuse to respond to our messages. I understand your reasons for fighting, I just don't see ours." the Admiral paused, "I'm sorry Commander Cascus, I went off on a tangent I should not have. Let me get back to your questions."

He pointed to the map of Grand Nicholia. "We are sending more recon planes out shortly, but at the moment our intel is hazy. That is why I want to know what you have - the Nicholians for some reason or other will not reveal to us where our planes and artillery is needed, so we can are lame ducks until we get information. At the moment, however, I can offer some assistance to you. You say your troops will beach in East Sichou here" his finger pointed to a spot on the map, "and the valley runs this way into GN. I can concentrate some flyovers and recon missions to the border here to see if there will be any resistance for your troops. If there are, we can position our fleet so that are long-range guns can hit their locations, as well as send bombers and fighter jets. Anything to make your approach as easy as possible. We can also escort your fleet to that location, then navigate ourselves off the coast of Grand Nicholia to provide support if needed."

The Lord High Commander nodded at the story of the reconnaissance plane. He understood that the loss of any troops, no matter who, was a terrible thing. But as they began to mention the Nicholians and their incompetencies, he laughed slightly. He had no idea why they were really in this war, and he didn't really think that the Emperor did either. Sure, Corhána was in a country being attacked by an enemy force, but he still did not see any concrete reason. He continued on after they promised to send reconnaissance to the valley.
"Thank you for the affirmation that you will help us in our mission to the King Philippe Mountain Range. It will be useful, and we hope that nothing will come of it negatively. We are..."
Suddenly, in his pocket, his phone vibrated. It was only to be used in cases of top military importance at short-range. He opened it up, and read the message.

Code: Select all: Corhána captured. Grand Nicholia to blame. Emperor angered. Tense relations presently.

The Lord High Commander's eyes opened wide, and he tossed the phone to the Admiral.
"I believe our reasons may have changed slightly."

The Ungrateful King Nicholas XVI.

That does not change the truth - you have proven yourselves incompetent at every turn, and the details of exactly where my daughter is is still an issue. On my honour as a member of House Cívereś, the House of my ancestor, Getúmen Cecadoran, you shall return her and Aya, and the wedding shall be called off, no matter what candied Anglo Saxon words you will prefer to use. As for our involvement in the war, it shall only need to be seen.
We shall not extend or drop our deadline. You have thirty hours now to deliver both women to Clányad, and if you do not reach this deadline, then we shall consider other means.

Most ungratefully,
Emperor Cacsus VII Cecerv Cívereś

Azi Altul wrote:Azan awoke early, which was abnormal for him. He usually was a deep sleeper, sleeping soundly until noon. One of his wives, a girl by the name of Tahlia, who has seen nigh on three and a half decades, stirred awake from her place next to him. She sat up and wrapped her slender arms around his shoulder, whispering ancient Altan into his ear. She wished him luck in the upcoming battle. Azan stirred Raull awake, the great wolf had been sleeping against the side of the bed. Azan sympathized with the great wolf, as he could not fit on the bed. Azan knew that feeling, having to practically hold his knees to his chest to fit on the six foot long cot.
Raull stood, and stretched his muscular legs. He trotted happily out of the tent, his great body barely fitting through the entryway. Azan grabbed his great fascis, and donned his shoulder plates. Today would be a very eventful day, for the great warrior chall Getúmen would prove one of the deadliest adversaries Azan had ever faced. He knew he would kill the man, but the question was how unscathed Azan would leave. He expected to gain a new assortment of scars from the great chall, but that was to be expected.
As he left his tent, he saw the battle ring had been finished. The fire had been lit, and the spears had been properly secured in the dirt. The aura around the camp was that of glee, as the Altan people loved a good brawl; especially one between challs. It appeared Getúmen had not yet woken, but the metal man, who Azan had quickly discovered never slept, remained in the same place he had since the festivities began. He held a small, metal bird in his hands, which appeared to be shaped like a great eagle. With a whisper, the bird's wings began flapping, and it flew off into the forest mindlessly.
Azan cared not for the metal man's witchcraft, but he knew it would prove necessary to defeat the coalition. The fires of the fighting pit raged, and he could feel their resonating heat from his standing place, around twenty feet away. It would, as usual, prove almost just as deadly as whatever adversary was in the pit with a person. Raull made sure to avoid the flames, as he had suffered a burn as a pup, that had forever scarred him.
The great wolf was getting old, just as Azan was. The huge beasts had a lifespan mildly above the average human, and more often than not found themselves riderless, or vise versa. The vaethis species had been a crucial part in the southland's development, both in terms of protection and culture. They were the perfect partners, the great wolves, and were fiercely loyal and intelligent. Raull was getting old, Azan knew, even though he still had a long life ahead of him, if all went well. In the battle at the mountain valley, Raull had fallen carrying Azan's limp body, hurting his hip. He walked with a slight limp, and that saddened the great R†hul. Although, he knew he faired no better. In his youth, he would have stormed the mountain palace, mounted on his young, black beast, crushed their castle walls alone, and claimed the young princess for himself. Alas, the fruit of youth had escaped Azan, and he was feeling his follies like he never had when he was young. That was fine, though, for soon Azan would take his place among the hordes of the day's sky, as the new Rider himself.
Azan sat against a tree next to his tent, and sharpened the sword that would cleave his chall's head from his shoulder. The thought saddened Azan, but it had to be done.

Getúmen woke up from the strangest dream. He had dreamt of Rhas; that he had come to him, and told him what to do. But the strange thing was, after the battle, he had told him something... Getúmen did not know what he had said, as his mind had begun to wake up. Rhas had always been known to speak in riddles. Though all of the gods were holy, Rhas was one of those rare ones who was said to involve himself in the affairs of men, sometimes freeing people from places where they should have died, or curing illness, or even giving dreams. Was that what Getúmen had? No, of course not. This was the day when he was to die, for certain. He had been dressing, and was wearing his leather armour, that had almost become a part of him since his arrival in the Altan camp. He picked up his tacal, it's gold-plated blade and bottom were polished well, and his ombalichite shaft shone in the morning light. He had made thisbeen given this tacal tacal by the Emperor, and it was beautiful. But it was not a true Clányan weapon. He put it down, then, from a chest by his bed, he took another, much more weathered-looking tacal. He had made this in his seventeenth summer, when his father told him about the Sons of Yúrh for the first time. The shaft was one of wood, and the two metal pieces had been forged himself out of tetrían - most Clányan people no longer knew how to make tetrían - probably a by-product of the fall of the Empire. But he did - it had been passed down his family for generations.
He walked out into the light of the morning. He found his group of guards. They removed their helmets, and nodded a traditional Clányan respect. Getúmen continued to walk; quickly, but not too fast. He would say one last greeting to Azan, as another Clányan respect. He hoped that he would deliver it well, and not be too fazed by the coming battle. At last, he reached the tree where Azan sat sharpening his sword.
"Gota gona ðéin, Azan."

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 6:29 pm

"Sire, we have the worst news! I am afraid it is going downhill for us! Here's the letter!" said a young page with a worried expression.

Image
The Ungrateful King Nicholas XVI.

That does not change the truth - you have proven yourselves incompetent at every turn, and the details of exactly where my daughter is is still an issue. On my honour as a member of House Cívereś, the House of my ancestor, Getúmen Cecadoran, you shall return her and Aya, and the wedding shall be called off, no matter what candied Anglo Saxon words you will prefer to use. As for our involvement in the war, it shall only need to be seen.
We shall not extend or drop our deadline. You have thirty hours now to deliver both women to Clányad, and if you do not reach this deadline, then we shall consider other means.

Most ungratefully,
Emperor Cacsus VII Cecerv Cívereś

"Oh, this is hilarious! Look who wants to play! This letter is a sorry excuse for an declaration of war! If they want war, GIVE IT TO THEM! Give me some paper and a pen! I need to write a letter!" said a cocky King. The King was confindent he could slaughter the Claanyan Military like pigs. His letter went like this:

To The dishonourable pig who calls himself an Emperor,

May wisdom ever elude you! The wedding plans shall be called off, but not in your way... Your daughter shall be slaughter like the swine she is! (She probably got her swine look from YOU) Aya shall be killed as well, in the original fashion. This is a formal declaration of WAR! But, I will give you something. I will send you Corhana's heart in a finely carved wooden box, expect it soon....

From Your Superior, Nicholas XVI

LATER THAT EVENING
The Prince never got the message to release Corhana from the Elephant Room, as the plan was called off. Instead two guards unlocked the door to drag Corhana to the dungeons. Corhána resisted at first but was eventually subdued and dragged to the dungeons.

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:14 pm

The Emperor gazed over the letter, breathing heavily. It was written with the intent of causing offence. And the worst thing was that people with whom he would have treated with weeks prior were the ones who were declaring war on him. No, that was not the worst thing. The worst thing was that he had sent his daughter to Grand Nicholia because she 'needed to marry'. If he hadn't, then another princess would have taken her place, another Kingdom would have been involved in a war... And Corhána would have been safe at home.
He would do everything in his power to get his daughter back. If that meant siding with a different force, then so be it. She was his first and only daughter - As Corhána Vícacsus Cívereś, she was entitled to the respect of a high ranking Prisoner of War, and now they were going to 'slaughter' her? Who does this despot-king think he is?
He roared, sending some aides by the door bowling over each other, and he lifted a table and threw it out the window. He had never been this angry in his life - not against any other enemy - not Abiottis after they insulted everything Clányad believed in, not Eredion after they abandoned the alliance they were supposed to have shared, not the protesters against austerity measures, nor any other force. This was a righteous anger which only he could be allowed to have.
Gáð Ceŧerhas Túagábec had been standing by the door. As the minister of defence, he had some information to share with the Emperor.
"Sire, I have news... Getúmen is to be facing Azan today. I have no doubt that he shall win, but I..."
"Leave me, Gáð. I should be alone."
The Minister of Defence nodded, and left the room quickly, still not telling his news. It was probably not important, anyway.
The Emperor stood hunched over his desk. He was breathing heavily, and tears fell from his eyes and onto the varnished woodwork. In those tears, he could see Corhána's face, and all that he had fought for. As they fell onto the desk below, they turned into bombs and rifles, killing his soldiers and destroying his dreams. He sat down to telegram the fleet.

Code: Select all: GRAND NICHOLIA DECLARED WAR STOP DEFEND AGAINST THEM IF NEED BE STOP KEEP TROOPS SAFE STOP

Then, he wrote a letter to the Clányan citizens, with whom he knew he would find a hearing ear.

To all citizens of the realm.

We have been declared war upon by a vicious outside force. Though it appears we are still at war with Abiottis, now those fools in Grand Nicholia have decided to keep my daughter, doing Yúrh knows what to her, and have formally declared war on us. Many of us are already there, and whether they will find out in time about the Nicholians and their antics, I do not know.
What I do know is clear - that this grand Empire is now at war with Nicholia. As such, we shall not back down until the Sons and Daughters of Clányad are returned to the motherland.
We shall fight to honour, and to the death if we have to.

We shall win this war.
Maho gota Aeðe Śolán!

by **Balashov** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:25 pm

The Golden Palace - Vlasnok, Balashov

King Zuri I, of the great Royal family, sat fuming at the head of the table in the War Room. He was surrounded by his ministers, highest ranking generals, and other top officials. A tv was glaring at the opposite end of the table blaring the latest headlines: GRAND NICHOLIA DECLARES WAR ON CLAANYAD, COALITION IN JEOPARDY. On the screen flashed images of tanks and soldiers firing in the Nicholian country side, as explosions rang through out. In the background, the Mountain Palace was seen. This was old footage, from the first Battle of the Valley. "Ahem," the King coughed. Someone muted the tv. "Ministers, I have called you in here today as something has torn our coalition apart. For reasons unknown, the foolish anglo-saxons of Grand Nicholia and their insane King have declared war on the Claanyans. Obviously something serious has happened to cause this rift. Yohan. I want you to get the Emperor on the line with me in one hour, so we may discuss the current events. Our place in the coalition has been defined by our allegiance to our good friends and allies in the Claanyans. We will continue to stand by them. Many of you have questioned our role in this war in the first place - it is out of old codes of honor to our greatest friend and ally. And by my decree, we shall continue to stand by them. I am sure they have their reasons for war with the idiotic Nicholians! I, as should you all, intend to view any attack on Claanyad as an attack on our great Kingdom itself. Drasnok, other generals, begin mobilizing the 2nd Royal Fleet for immediate departure to Grand Nicholia. Is everything clear?"

"Sir, what about the war with the Altuls and Abiottis?" one of the generals spoke up.

"That is unsure of at the moment - until something changes, we view them as enemies. I am sure I will find out soon enough. General Viktaz, send word Admiral Malkovik of the 1st Royal Fleet about our change in targets, and tell him to relay it to Admiral Burgiak."

The men in the room nodded and left to do their duties. Minister Diruchi left to establish contact with the Emperor through direct phone line, and the King was left to pen his declaration of war.

The Royal Kingdom of Balashov
Office of his Glory, King Zuri I
Official Communications Log
"Long live his Glory, the King"
~~~

TO: Kingdom of Grand Nicholia, King Nicholas XVI
CC: The Royal Broadcasting Station of Balashov
FROM: Royal King of Balashov, his Glory, King Zuri I
SUBJECT: Declaration of War
ENCRYPTION: NONE

Nicholas,
As of this date in the eyes of our glorious gods and in the name of my family's legacy, with all intent to honor our unbreakable alliance with the Empire of Claanyad, I with the the military might of Balashov, hereby order you to cease and desist your actions that caused this split of the Coalition, or face the consequences. Any other response will mean the full declaration of war from the Royal Kingdom to your conflict-ravaged nation. I, out of the goodness of my heart, urge you to take my offering of peace to avoid the further bloodshed of man. You, sir, have led the coalition astray for too long. You have poked the bear, and we have finally awoken. I, for the last time, suggest that you take our offering of peace. Any other actions will be seen as an act of war, and will be dealt with accordingly.

King Zuri I of the royal Vladengrad family
Glorious Ruler of the Royal Kingdom of Balashov

1st Royal Fleet, somewhere in the ocean

On the bridge of the HRS Zuri the Great, Admiral Malkovik stood alongside his brother, General Malkovik. They stared out at the waves and the open ocean ahead of them. They were only a full day's travel away from the coast of Grand Nicholia and their sister fleet of the North. Their hull cut seamlessly through the dark blue waves, and behind them in the wake, was 400,000 Balashovian troops, fully ready for an beach landing in Nicholia. The Admiral drew a long puff in from his cigar then blew it out. A beeping started emitting from the radio operation table. "Admiral, sir," the communications officer spoke up, "Word has just come in from the Monarchy. Here-" he handed him the transmission paper

Code: Select all: 1ST ROYAL FLEET HRS ZURI THE GREAT - DO NOT CHANGE COURSE - HOWEVER CHANGE IN PLANS - NICHOLIAN TENSIONS INCREASED - NICHOLIA DECLARES WAR ON CLAANYAD - KING RESPONDS BY DECLARING WAR ON GN - RELAY MESSAGE TO ADMIRAL BURGIAK OF NORTHERN FLEET - WAIT FOR FURTHER WORD UPON ARRIVAL

Admiral Malkovik chuckled. "What is it my brother?" the General questioned. The Admiral handed him the paper, and he too began to chuckle. "Silly Nicholians, they must've done something horrible to break the coalition up. I guess we're at war with two other sides now!"

"Yes brother, an even more uncertain and murky future awaits us on these shores. You can consider me utterly confused." the Admiral responded as the fleet steamed through the open sea towards Grand Nicholia.

On board the HRS Rollo I

Admiral Burgiak read the message and laughed to himself. He knew Corhana was the daughter of the emperor, but he only saw this as a minor incident and did not see this resulting in war against the Nicholians, however much he desired it. "Commander Cascus, these Nicholians we are dealing with are very sporadic. They are rude, foreboding, and somewhat crazy. I do wonder what they are thinking - do they want the entire coalition to be ripped apart? I'm unsure of how this tension will ease, but if we want to win this conflict for these crazy bastards..." he sighed and rolled his eyes before continuing, "they must concede. What does this situation do for your invasion plans?"

In the back of the room, the radio transmitter began beeping and a sheet printed out. However, no one was able to read it at the moment, for the communications officer had gone on break and would not be back for a little while.

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:27 pm

But Corhána never did act. She went to her dungeon with her head bowed, feeling as if she had failed her father, her Empire, her country and her deities. Not only that, but Prince Philippe. But even if he was better than his father, he was no friend of hers any longer. Should her father tell her to marry him again, she would never do it. She would bring a knife, or a tacal, or something and kill the Prince and his family. She was enraged. But no, she realised, that could only cause more problems... She went further down into the palace with her head down.
"Améiget gan vahára," she whispered under her breath. It meant, 'this was my fault'. Which it did seem like. Many weeks ago, she was so naïve as to believe that love would cure her problems. In fact, they only made them worse. She began to tear up.
Of course, it was also the Nicholians' fault. And Abiottis. If they had not been so horrible, she thought, then this mess would never have happened.
But she sighed as she realised that would never happen. She recalled how eagerly she had sold herself - the lions of Caśéndál, her efforts in helping the economy, heck, even Ombalichite and the Clányan crown trade. She had been so good - or at least, so she thought. But she had stood up for what she believed in. And that was paramount.
As she was thrown in the dungeons, she kept her chin up. But as the guards turned away, she sobbed silently, her tears falling on the floor. And she knew that she was truly alone.

by **Azi Altul** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:27 pm

The time had come. Azan shook his opponent's hand, and proceeded to enter the ring. The Altan people crowded around the ring, praying to the Rider for a worthwhile battle. Night had fallen, and the fires of the pit were the only light source. Raull tried to follow him, but with a quick stay command, the great wolf sat and remained motionless, his ears pressing nervously against his head. Azan had donned his ironwood chest-plate, knee length kilt, and shoulder-pads, and his chall was covered in leather armor, his tacal in hand. Azan himself held his fascis in hand. He jumped onto the wooden plank used to enter the ring, which broke easily under his weight. With another jump, he launched himself from the plank into the ring, unscathed.
He looked over and saw that his chall had done the same, without breaking the plank, for the foreign men were build smaller than an average Altan. Azan thrust the blade of his fascis into the ground, and knelt upon his knees, his hands resting on his blade's hilt. The six large vaethis teeth that had been forged into the blade glistened and shined in the firelight.
His chall did the same, in an attempt to follow the Altan customs. The warriors and women watching the fight grew silent, their heads bowed. Azan spoke the ritual in ancient Altan, and one of his warriors translated for the foreigners.
"Tonight, we gather under the night's sky, and pit chall against chall in the ancient rite of blood battle. The two men, high esteemed in their own realms, will tonight fight to the death, in hopes of appeasing their gods. If you wish, pray to your gods, whoever they may be."
Azan prayed to the Rider, for strength and speed, and Getúmen prayed to his gods, of all varieties.
With this, the two challs locked eyes, and gave one another their respects, in their own language. Azan drew his sword from the ground, and crouched, ready to strike his chall down. Getúmen lifted his weapon, and the battle commenced, as the great vaethis of the south sang the songs of the old wolves.

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:30 pm

"I would love to see his fury! His face going red, him yelling at everyone! It would be a delight!" Hollered the King, referring to the Emperor. "He probably is losing his hair over this! I can't wait to torture him in a mental way!" Added the King. He planned to have Corhána write a tear filled letter to her parents, send them pieces of her hair and dress, etc. The King was glowing with Glee!

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:40 pm

"Another letter!" Yelled the same young page. "I haven't read it, but it is from the Balashovian Kingdom!" "Give it here boy!" Replied the King. "What does this say?"

The Royal Kingdom of Balashov
Office of his Glory, King Zuri I
Official Communications Log
"Long live his Glory, the King"
~~~

TO: Kingdom of Grand Nicholia, King Nicholas XVI
CC: The Royal Broadcasting Station of Balashov
FROM: Royal King of Balashov, his Glory, King Zuri I
SUBJECT: Declaration of War
ENCRYPTION: NONE

Nicholas,
As of this date in the eyes of our glorious gods and in the name of my family's legacy, with all intent to honor our unbreakable alliance with the Empire of Claanyad, I with the the military might of Balashov, hereby order you to cease and desist your actions that caused this split of the Coalition, or face the consequences. Any other response will mean the full declaration of war from the Royal Kingdom to your conflict-ravaged nation. I, out of the goodness of my heart, urge you to take my offering of peace to avoid the further bloodshed of man. You, sir, have led the coalition astray for too long. You have poked the bear, and we have finally awoken. I, for the last time, suggest that you take our offering of peace. Any other actions will be seen as an act of war, and will be dealt with accordingly.

King Zuri I of the royal Vladengrad family
Glorious Ruler of the Royal Kingdom of Balashov

"Hmm, they believe they are important! They want peace, give it, I believe it would not make a difference anyways. Give me paper!" Commented an cocky King.

To His Irrelevancy, King Zuri I

I accept your pitiful peace! You may leave this conflict now, as the tensions have escalated far beyond. Again I accept your peace for the good of mankind, you pagans!

From His Excellent Majesty, Nicholas XVI

"That will deal with them" murmured the King.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"What?! A war has been started!? And my fiancé has been imprisoned? How could this be?!" Questioned the Prince when one of his soldiers told him what has happened. "I am afraid so, your Majesty." Said the Soldier. "I must contact my father and visit Corhána!" Said the Prince. "You mustn't!" Yelled the soldier. "Your in charge while I'm gone, okay!" Replied the Prince as he got in his car towards the Palace, to visit Corhána, first. "Okay.... Then...." Replied the soldier.
LATER
The Prince got out of his car and rushed through the Palace, ignoring every guard that tried to stop him. He finally got to the dungeon where he first met Aya, which he ignored, he then ran through the halls and found Corhána and said to her through the bars in a rushed voice " I am sorry that I got you into this. I hope you can forgive me. My father plans to kill you eventually, but I will stop him. I wish for you to calm down, my Fiancé. Even though we are not to be married, I wish to inform that I have found love for you, it may be late now, but please forgive me." He waited for her response.

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 7:48 pm

"What?" The Lord High Commander took the message from Admiral Burgiak, and read it himself. He found it more strange than humorous. He knew that the Emperor would not have provoked war with Grand Nicholia, unless something really major had happened. What is the Emperor thinking. More importantly, what are the Anglo Saxons thinking, he thought to himself as he read over the message. He might have to rethink the plans of entering Sichou. Moreover, he might have to rethink how he'd be entering Grand Nicholia - since they were no longer allies, but enemies. What the heck could have caused this, he asked. He gave the message back to the admiral, stroking his chin.

Azi Altul wrote:The time had come. Azan shook his opponent's hand, and proceeded to enter the ring. The Altan people crowded around the ring, praying to the Rider for a worthwhile battle. Night had fallen, and the fires of the pit were the only light source. Raull tried to follow him, but with a quick stay command, the great wolf sat and remained motionless, his ears pressing nervously against his head. Azan had donned his ironwood chest-plate, knee length kilt, and shoulder-pads, and his chall was covered in leather armor, his tacal in hand. Azan himself held his fascis in hand. He jumped onto the wooden plank used to enter the ring, which broke easily under his weight. With another jump, he launched himself from the plank into the ring, unscathed.
He looked over and saw that his chall had done the same, without breaking the plank, for the foreign men were build smaller than an average Altan. Azan thrust the blade of his fascis into the ground, and knelt upon his knees, his hands resting on his blade's hilt. The six large vaethis teeth that had been forged into the blade glistened and shined in the firelight.
His chall did the same, in an attempt to follow the Altan customs. The warriors and women watching the fight grew silent, their heads bowed. Azan spoke the ritual in ancient Altan, and one of his warriors translated for the foreigners.
"Tonight, we gather under the night's sky, and pit chall against chall in the ancient rite of blood battle. The two men, high esteemed in their own realms, will tonight fight to the death, in hopes of appeasing their gods. If you wish, pray to your gods, whoever they may be."
Azan prayed to the Rider, for strength and speed, and Getúmen prayed to his gods, of all varieties.
With this, the two challs locked eyes, and gave one another their respects, in their own language. Azan drew his sword from the ground, and crouched, ready to strike his chall down. Getúmen lifted his weapon, and the battle commenced, as the great vaethis of the south sang the songs of the old wolves.

Getúmen raised his tacal. The stabbing end was towards the bottom, but he could take it to the top easily if he needed it. His main aim was to stay away from Azan's blade while causing enough damage with the long shaft of the tacal and it's, admittedly inferior, cutting edge. Then, get him to the ground and stab him. Getúmen would have gladly admitted he didn't want to do it. He knew Azan's power, and he respected him. Also, the fact that he had received an omen of his death helped little. He was slightly nervous, but nerves should never affect a warrior. And Getúmen was a warrior. He lunged forward, bringing his tacal's stabbing edge forward and back. He spun out of the way of any counter-attack, and hoped that he at least drew blood.

Balashov wrote:The Golden Palace - Vlasnok, Balashov

King Zuri I, of the great Royal family, sat fuming at the head of the table in the War Room. He was surrounded by his ministers, highest ranking generals, and other top officials. A tv was glaring at the opposite end of the table blaring the latest headlines: GRAND NICHOLIA DECLARES WAR ON CLAANYAD, COALITION IN JEOPARDY. On the screen flashed images of tanks and soldiers firing in the Nicholian country side, as explosions rang through out. In the background, the Mountain Palace was seen. This was old footage, from the first Battle of the Valley. "Ahem," the King coughed. Someone muted the tv. "Ministers, I have called you in here today as something has torn our coalition apart. For reasons unknown, the foolish anglo-saxons of Grand Nicholia and their insane King have declared war on the Claanyans. Obviously something serious has happened to cause this rift. Yohan. I want you to get the Emperor on the line with me in one hour, so we may discuss the current events. Our place in the coalition has been defined by our allegiance to our good friends and allies in the Claanyans. We will continue to stand by them. Many of you have questioned our role in this war in the first place - it is out of old codes of honor to our greatest friend and ally. And by my decree, we shall continue to stand by them. I am sure they have their reasons for war with the idiotic Nicholians! I, as should you all, intend to view any attack on Claanyad as an attack on our great Kingdom itself. Drasnok, other generals, begin mobilizing the 2nd Royal Fleet for immediate departure to Grand Nicholia. Is everything clear?"

"Sir, what about the war with the Altuls and Abiottis?" one of the generals spoke up.

"That is unsure of at the moment - until something changes, we view them as enemies. I am sure I will find out soon enough. General Viktaz, send word Admiral Malkovik of the 1st Royal Fleet about our change in targets, and tell him to relay it to Admiral Burgiak."

The men in the room nodded and left to do their duties. Minister Diruchi left to establish contact with the Emperor through direct phone line, and the King was left to pen his declaration of war.

The Emperor was busy in his chambers. He had stayed in there for the longest time. It was Leðarh Ceŧcaren Yadscus, the Emperor's manservant, who picked up the phone line. Finding out it was from Balashov, Cáðéit Cevcarhon Gíŧon walked into the room.
"Leðarh - allow me. I think I am more qualified to speak about this."
Leðarh Ceŧcaren Yadscus nodded his head in respect and passed the phone on. He was ageing, but hobbled over to the Emperor to see if there was anything he needed.
"This is Cáðéit Cevcarhon Gíŧon, Foreign Minister. I am sorry, but the Emperor is... otherwise engaged at present. I shall speak to you about this incident which has occurred."
Cáðéit filled Minister Diruchi in over the phone - exactly what had happened, who was to blame, everything about Aya and Corhána, and about their vile practices. He finished up and asked the Minister's opinion.
"So, what do you think?"

Corhána, though in chains and still bitter over her imprisonment, nodded a Clányan respect to him. She was still feeling cold with resentment towards Grand Nicholia and all Nicholians, but she would hold this resentment in to speak civilly. She knew that she had to appeal to the Prince, in order to save her country.
"I may not be able to forget what you have done, but I will certainly not hold it against you," her voice changed to one of slightly more emotion as she began to speak about her family, "I know that my father will be worrying for me. Please, I shall write a message to him, and I want you to switch it for the one which your father plans on sending my father. Please do this for me. I cannot imagine how he must be feeling."

by **Balashov** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:19 pm

Minister Diruchi took a moment to think over all the information he had just received. "Minister Giton, I, with the backing of the King, am truly sincere when I say these bastards need to be dealt with accordingly, as well as us being sorrowful in the plights of your Emperor. Family is foremost in our minute world, and we understand the sorrows the Emperor is experiencing at the moment. Obviously, the Royal Kingdom choses her ally in Claanyad rather than the Nicholians. As you are aware, the King offered an ultimatum to the Nicholians. However, I assume this knowledge of what is going on in Nicholia will sway his opinion and public opinion toward invalidating the ulimatum and issuing a full declaration of war. I have just sent an aide to inform the King, and I bet he will issue the declaration soon. Our alliance forces shall do whatever it takes to assure the safe return of Corhana. What does the Empire of Claanyad require of us at the moment? 400,000 of our finest troops are one full day of travel away from our two fleets on the coast." he replied.

King Zuri I sat alone in the dark War Room, the glare from the TV illuminating his tired face. His eyelids were moving open and shut as he tried to stay awake. His fist rested on his cheek, supporting his weight up. That very hand began to slip when a knock reverberated from the doors. He jolted awake and switched on the lights and muted the tv before calling whoever it was in. The Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs walked in the room, holding a piece of paper. "Sire, from Nicholia. I expect you're not going to like it.." he said as the paper transferred hands. "As well as news from Yohan - he spoke with the Claanyan Minister of Foreign Affairs-" the Vice Minister then informed Zuri on the whole situation.

The King's tired eyes poured over the words of the paper, wakening at each sentence. A smile crept onto his face and his eyes lit up with joy. "Can you believe this?" he asked the Vice Minister, "calling me irrelevant... to my face. Such way to deal with another sovereign ruler. I absolutely cannot believe him!" the king became more enraged, "the sons of Balashov died on his soil to protect his dumb little backwards monarchy. He is no better than a belligerent drunkard wandering the slums! He has the absolute nerve to call me irrelevant, and calling our generous call to peace... pitiful?! This sorry man deserved to be hung. And their barbaric actions - threatening to slaughter a daughter of royal blood, even more so, from an allied nation! What an idiooot!"

Zuri slammed his fist onto the table. The Vice Minister jumped back a bit, but he knew this was coming. "Sire, how would you like me to deal with this pest?" The king stared at the paper for a minute, contemplating the future. "You have to nothing to do, my friend. Leave this up to me. His shallow insults and obvious sarcasm seem to indicate he's taking our threat lightly. I want this bastard dead - if that means war. No one insults our great kingdom and disrespects our power. And, on top of that, they still have an open declaration of war against Claanyad. They are threatening the life of an innocent citizen of Claanyad, a former allied nation. As dutiful allies, we must side with them and aid them in their conquest to rid the world of this imbecile! Minister, you are dismissed, carry on with your duties. Thank you for bringing this rubbish to my attention." The man nodded and left the room with a slight hop in his step, not wanting to be the target of the kings future rage.

The Royal Kingdom of Balashov
Office of his Glory, King Zuri I
Official Communications Log
"Long live his Glory, the King"
~~~

TO: Kingdom of Grand Nicholia, King Nicholas XVI
CC: The Royal Broadcasting Station of Balashov
FROM: Royal King of Balashov, his Glory, King Zuri I
SUBJECT: Declaration of War
ENCRYPTION: NONE

Nicholas,
My dear Nicholas, you continue to disrespect and insult the great Kingdom of Balashov. I am also aware of the fact that you have Princess Corhana in your prison and intend on executing her. Your idiotic and rash thinking has torn away the only allies you had in your attempts to stop an invasion. The combined forces of Claanyad and Balashov will soon enter your excuse for a country and remove you from power. I am sorry you are unable to see the light in the world and I am sorry that you continue to plunge your nation into the pits of hell. I stress again - you and your idiotic way of approaching things will result in your demise.

King Zuri I of the royal Vladengrad family
Glorious Ruler of the Royal Kingdom of Balashov

Bridge of the HRS Rollo I
"Commander Cascus, I am just as perplexed as you are. I assume in due time we will find out what is going on, but at the moment, we now know we have a second enemy - albeit cornered and trapped, but a second enemy none the less. I do feel, however, since our ties to Nicholia are severed, we should attempt to reach out to the Altuls. The more allies to join us in our plight against those dumb Nicholians, the more men to capture their mountain palace." Admiral Burgiak spoke up. "But, they are technologically in-superior, how do we make contact with them?"

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:25 pm

The Crown Prince gave Corhána an susipiocus and angered look and said in a hushed voice " Are you just trying to manipulate my feelings for your own good? I can see through you! Unless you can prove you are not manipulating me, I will not trust a word you say! " whispered an angry Prince. The Prince was suspicious of her last remark and stood in a demanding position.

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:36 pm

"Don't say it, let me guess, another letter!" said the King. "Give it here! What does this say!"

The Royal Kingdom of Balashov
Office of his Glory, King Zuri I
Official Communications Log
"Long live his Glory, the King"
~~~

TO: Kingdom of Grand Nicholia, King Nicholas XVI
CC: The Royal Broadcasting Station of Balashov
FROM: Royal King of Balashov, his Glory, King Zuri I
SUBJECT: Declaration of War
ENCRYPTION: NONE

Nicholas,
My dear Nicholas, you continue to disrespect and insult the great Kingdom of Balashov. I am also aware of the fact that you have Princess Corhana in your prison and intend on executing her. Your idiotic and rash thinking has torn away the only allies you had in your attempts to stop an invasion. The combined forces of Claanyad and Balashov will soon enter your excuse for a country and remove you from power. I am sorry you are unable to see the light in the world and I am sorry that you continue to plunge your nation into the pits of hell. I stress again - you and your idiotic way of approaching things will result in your demise.

King Zuri I of the royal Vladengrad family
Glorious Ruler of the Royal Kingdom of Balashov

“MY demise! They shall fall, not me! Give me Paper! I have to write a letter!"

To His Irrelevancy, King Zuri I

May wisdom ever elude you! Your arrogance shall not be tolerated! You want war, HERE IT IS! You shall fail as not only will I attack you, the Robotic Alliance will also attack you. I have a trick up my sleeve that you will not expect....

From,
Your Superior, Nicholas XVI

"This will be fun..."
____________________________________________________________________________________

To, The Overview of Abbiotis

In light of the dis formation of the Coalition, I request peace. You can negotiate terms, but I require one. I wish to join your alliance so that we may fight Claanyad and his coalition. Not only will we overpower them, I would accept my son marrying Aya! Please accept our terms.

Sincerely,
Nicholas XVI, King of Grand Nicholia

"Claanyad, meet your match...."

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:40 pm

Cáðéit Cevcarhon Gíŧon nodded - he was happy to hear this.
"We thank you for your devotion to our cause. At present, we still have access through Sichou, but I am unsure how exactly we would be able to attack. Lord High Commander Cascus has been sending us reports about the war with Grand Nicholia, whereas now we suddenly find ourselves against them. We simply do not know how to react to this. Have you considered meeting with some generals here? We may be able to create more valid plans if we are centralised in one location. Or, of course, we could meet in Balashov, perhaps to be more inconspicuous. But remember that Lánscus is open to you if you ever want to meet us here."

"That is indeed a problem, yes. The Altul people... we do have a division of the Imperial Guard stationed there at the short-term, but since the intention was for the Emperor's beśáfad, a man named Getúmen, one of the best fighters in Clányad, to fight with their leader, I am unsure whether diplomacy is going to be very easy. We will have to wait - if they decide to join us against Grand Nicholia, then that is an advantage. However, if not, then there is a large possibility that our alliance may crumble, and not through means of our own," he sighed, "I do not like this. This course of action has led us to war, whatever the course was, and it seems we are making enemies fast."

by **Claanyad** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:46 pm

"How or why would I do that? I am asking you not to subject my father, whom I love dearly, to mental torture, and instead reassure him of my safety, and you accuse me of manipulating you?" She sincerely did not want to manipulate the Crown Prince, but she felt that if he did not believe her, then she would dislike him all the more, "Remember, it was your father who declared war on us and ordered my imprisonment, not mine. My father has fought with Grand Nicholia, allying ourselves with your interests and trying to help your nation - please do not accuse me of plotting. I would never do such a thing."

by **Grand Nicholia** » Mon May 11, 2015 8:56 pm

Claanyad wrote:
Grand Nicholia wrote:The Crown Prince gave Corhána an susipiocus and angered look and said in a hushed voice " Are you just trying to manipulate my feelings for your own good? I can see through you! Unless you can prove you are not manipulating me, I will not trust a word you say! " whispered an angry Prince. The Prince was suspicious of her last remark and stood in a demanding position.

"How or why would I do that? I am asking you not to subject my father, whom I love dearly, to mental torture, and instead reassure him of my safety, and you accuse me of manipulating you?" She sincerely did not want to manipulate the Crown Prince, but she felt that if he did not believe her, then she would dislike him all the more, "Remember, it was your father who declared war on us and ordered my imprisonment, not mine. My father has fought with Grand Nicholia, allying ourselves with your interests and trying to help your nation - please do not accuse me of plotting. I would never do such a thing."

"It was YOUR father that started with the attitude of complaining about everything! Mental torture and war is what my father would find just to deal with your Nagging Father! Hmm, you have Inherited his attitude I suppose, when I was trying to help you, you strike at me! I think you were plotting, very much! Do not expect me to help you, anymore!" He yelled bitterly at Corhána. But, he could not stay angry at her, for he found her beauty seducing and was amazed by her wit and charm. Before he could yell longer, he ran out of the dungeon and let her be.

The Grand Nicholia-Abiottis War (IC, MT-PMT, Semi-Open)

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