The forgotten passages... [ARD][FnT]

[Dimoniquid]

The rain began to pour, and Jarrak trudged through the mud. He reached the gates, the only way in and out of Keldagrim. Archers were at the ready, mages stationed at the battlements. They looked at Jarrak, and the one gate opened.
"Jarrak, you better come inside. The rain will stain your armor."
"Aye, m'lord." He replied, dropping his hood. The young dwarf was new, but somehow familiar to this place, as he had seen it as a child.
"Men, watch the gate." The man, Jossik, ordered, as a group of human and dwarf kind passed. He walked through the hallway - then the city became alive.

The stone was crude, and the smell of bear and smoke filled the air. He watched as traders passed through selling armor to battleaxes, strange liquids to foreign plants. The lighting was dim, and long and dwindled star cases flew up, into unseen territory. He passed, trying to keep up with Jossik, and came to a small house. He entered, and placed his book on the table, which also had some parchments and scrolls with scribblings in it.
"Tell me, young man, what are you doing here? Your father hasn't seen me for a one-year." Jossik asked, sitting down, and putting up a piece of glass, rimmed with a small metal circle.
"I know, uncle. Father sends his apologies. It seems a lot bigger than I remember..." Jarrak began, taking the spare seat opposite his uncle.
"Probably does since you were so tiny. Runt of the litter, you were. That still doesn't tell me why you came, though."
"I work for the colony of Solace. They ask for your permission whether to settle in your grounds." He replied to Jossik, placing his scroll on the table. Jossik picked it up, and read through it.
"I'm no-"
"The councilman? I thought you were elected..." Jarrak cut in.
"I was. They decided the general of our army was better suited than than the economical tradesman. I work as his assisstant, though, so I may be able to bring it up with him."
"That would help dearly, uncle. As well as... a place to stay." Jarrak said quietly, keeping his voice hidden.
"Your father did many things for me. It's about time I did something for him. There's a spare room upstairs. Use it wisely."

The colony stood outside the gates, waiting to be let in. The councilmen waited in their meeting chamber, as well as two witnesses and the leader of the colony. The head and the leader signed the parchment.

Signed;
Timok Glens, Head councilmen.
Grenis Sial, Colony of Solace leader.

Another thousand to the population - time to start expanding again. The gates opened, the colony moved in. The back gates, for emergencies, began to move forward, and so did the walls. A few hundred feet away. The strongest mages and animals were doing something. They were moving the city. Every month this happened, and it moved closer and closer to the sea. The walls came to a stop, at least a few hundred feet was progressed. And so it began - the race to expand. For this wasn't enough - for something deep inside the government was brewing, and it wasn't good.

[The Batorys]

The spray of the surf wet the faces of the crew as they prepared to make landfall. The black painted ship cut through the brine as a hot knife through butter, leaving a thin wake and the twin trails of oars. The sail, also black, bore a very large Batory emblem in stark white. The dragon, biting its own tail, encircling three barbed fangs. Even now, the crew endeavored to roll up the sail, as it made the ship harder to maneuver when coming to shore. The only reason they'd left it up was to let the inhabitants of the land see that the ship, or at least someone on it, was a representative of the Batory Empire.

At the prow, not paying heed to the saltwater that splashed her face or the wind that tossed her black hair, was one Roka Darvul. Her clan was an offshoot of the imperial house, trusted with the fortress at Mt. Agaden. Not as tall as a woman of the main Batory clan would be, she still cut a striking, if unusual figure. Batorys were not known for their adventurous color choices, and her leather armor was, like the ship and its sail, also black. Even the iron rings sewn on for extra protection were black. Fairly heavily armed, the daggers and the weapon on her back that seemed somewhere between an axe and a sword, were also black. A bit much, one might think, but then, Roka was a high ranking assassin, though her mission here was not a bloody one. Today, hopefully, the weapons would only be for show.

Her purpose on these shores was to ascertain the goals and plans of these people. Word had it that Dimoniquid had been expanding. Since the Empire was also expanding, the empress was rather concerned that this might lead to a conflict with their neighbors across the southern sea, a conflict that while potentially winnable, was one that she'd prefer to avoid, as there would likely be a high cost to such a confrontation, with little to no benefit.

When landfall was made she jumped down, onto the shore. The crew pulled the ship up onto the beach, though not so far that they could not leave in a hurry if necessary. This was more out of habit than need. The captain of the ship was Bleda Sorvik, and his clan had provided the ship and crew as well, evidenced by their clan banner, a thorny rose and a battle axe crossed, flying from the ship. But no, she didn't anticipate much hostility today. Careful, however, various agents of hers had been placed in the city. They were much more unobtrusive than she, and unlike her could blend in. Though an assassin, she mainly specialized in military, rather than political work, as her easily recognizable face, with her black hair, black eyes and the tattoo on the right side of her visage, would make it hard to do anything not on a military front.

Once the ship was taken care of, most of the crew set about cooking a midday meal. The Berserkers who were acting as Roka's honor guard (she would have preferred light infantry, but the Sorviks would not hear of it; honestly she thought that the Empress granted the western clans, and Callisdrunians in general, far too much leeway, on the virtue of sentimental shared heritage and language) took up formation and proceeded to the city to make themselves known and hopefully iron out some sort of agreement.

OOC: If there's anything amiss with this post, just let me know and I'll edit.

[Dimoniquid]

The archers saw the people approaching. They spoke some sort of native tongue, and rushed along the battlements. The doors pulled back, and a platoon of men came out, some on horses, and some on foot. They stood in standard formation, the horses behind the foot soldiers. The soldiers had Keldagrim Gate armor, fitted with long swords and spears. The swords were passed down from generation to generation, and engraved with their forefathers oath to the nation.
"Who goes there? What is you business?" The platoon general asked, steadying his horse. He draw his sword, signalling everyone to take to arms.

The gates fell silent as they were shut, another platoon coming out. They were dwarves, full of anger and alcohol, ready to strike for blood. They were their Keldagrim Gate armor as well, along with crossbowman and war hammers for their arms.
"Ahh, Kultak, I see you've cared to join us." The general said again.
"Quiet, human, I want to wait for this. What is you business?"

[The Batorys]

While a few of the Berserkers, who were mostly armed with axes, westerners as they were, looked cast somewhat nervous looks at the soldiers who had come out to meet them, Roka herself remained calm, even looking cheerful, cracking a half-smile as she looked back at her honor guard. She made no move for any of her weapons, making sure that none of her guards did either, folding her arms over her chest. A fight now would result in many lives lost, as they were outnumbered and the soldiers were more heavily armored and armed than they were. While some from the northwest might balk at the small size of the dwarves, especially considering their own height, Roka knew better. It was good that a fight was not what she intended.

"I am Roka Darvul," she said calmly. "I have come at the behest of my Empress, Mierin Batory, to discuss matters of her concern with your King and Queen, Rohak and Animel, or if they prefer, whichever representative they choose to appoint. Though my appearance may strike some as... rough, I assure you, my rank is no insult to your rulers, as my clan is kin to the Imperial house." She paused, letting the guardians of Keldagrim consider what she said. "These," she continued, gesturing to the Berserkers, "are my honor guard. As you can see, we are not enough to pose any threat. One must keep up appearances, though, I'm sure you understand. One can't have the representative of the Empress going about without an escort, after all, that simply wouldn't do." She did not mention the agents who'd already been sent, of course. They didn't pose a threat either, really, as their mission was to provide help in case things went very badly and Roka needed to escape. The Empress was fond of her distant kinswoman, after all, and was a cautious woman by habit. And it was the truth, everyone knew that the small Berserker guard, once ashore and in the city in Dimoniquid, was too small to win in a fight. During the voyage, they'd been there to ward against pirates, and bandits in the unlikely event any were encountered ashore. Most of their purpose once city authorities were met was indeed to make Roka look important. That was just how things worked.

[Dimoniquid]

"Do you have a seal?" The man asked, dismounting his horse and walking forward a little. This would really test them - if they did, then they would have to allow them through, Keldagrim laws. If they didn't, then they would have to leave, or stay and fight. The archers eyed them suspiciously, knowing nothing could be good of them. A messenger rushed up to the archers commander, and gave a quick whisper, "So, do you?"
Kultak grunted, and the dwarves laughed a little. The stood in a hunched position, their armor gaining weight under the rain. They stuck their axes in the ground, and waited for the response, some slowly eying the archers.

[The Batorys]

The wild looking woman was wide-eyed, incredulous. "Because the black ship with the enormous Imperial house emblem on the sail isn't good enough?" Roka said sarcastically. "Very well," she sighed, and motioning her Berserkers tomove back a bit, she removed the glove from her left hand, and opened raised her palm to the head of the guards. There, burned into her flesh was the same symbol, a dragon encircling three barbed fangs. The size indicated that it had been made with a red hot signet ring. Holding up one finger, to preclude the guards saying anything yet, she added "But that of course, is not all."

Unclasping the buckles that held her leather, iron ring studded armor on, she with drew an envelope. The wax sealing it was unbroken, and handed it to the guard. At which point, she pulled her garments down slightly to reveal her left shoulder. There, on her pale skin, in black ink, was the Imperial emblem, yet again. If the guard were to open the envelope, he'd find a simple note saying merely "Roka Darvul is my kinswoman and representative in this matter. You may consider her to be speaking with my voice, that of the Empress of the Batory Empire."