Age of Blood and Fire [Medieval/Fantasy RP][IC]

[Tysklandia]

An Age of Blood and Fire



Discord : https://discord.gg/wdMM3Ur
OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=433912
IC: Right here

The Scholars will have yet to announce a name for the coming age. As dusk approaches the age of sorrows, new hope dawns. Harvests across the grand continent of Alcenia are blooming for the first time in over a century.
Temperatures rise, the people flourish and the armies of civilization once again stand firm against the creatures of the night and shadow. But the scholars know this period of glee and bliss will not last. For with hope, comes ambition and with ambition, comes war.

Premise

A large human empire conquered most of the known world, starting around 600 years ago. Rebellion, civil war and a mysterious wide catastrophy known as the great sundering brought its end, over a century ago, a century known as the age of woes and sorrow.
A century of failed harvests and ill-tempered fantasy monsters erupted from the deep, mysterious forests that dot the continent, destroying and burning most of what remained civilized.
It has been over five decades since this age of woe and sorrow has ended. Nations once more grow and thrive, elves, dwarves and others once more stand as their own rules and humans are left with a world they once ruled and know hates them for it.

In this world, players can craft their own human or fantasy race kingdom, fledging and growing as the first true kingdoms, republics and factions that have come out of the age of woes and sorrow.
Players will then have a chance to craft their own story as their nation struggles to survive against various events and monsters that will spawn across the world. In case of interest, I can add a component for adventuring for players. This is world with many secrets, ancient monsters and many a dungeon or ruin to discover.

---

---

ACTIVE SITUATIONAL EVENTS

*The seers atop the world peak mountains have yet to give the current age a name, although they did declare the age of woes to be at an end over 57 years ago.
Making the current date the 57th year of the current age.

*Even though the horrors and beasts of the age of woes have retreated to their dens and dark forests, the roads are still dangerous, with bandits, orcs and other dangerous beasts needing regulair culling to ensure the safety of the common traveler.

*For those delving in the underground, the goblin hordes who hide in underground caverns and crave for dwarven riches have slowed their relentless assaults, but the dangerous, cunning creatures never entirely cease their tunneling and raiding efforts in the dark underground lairs.

*Many a small king and warlord dot the lands of Alcenia. Many of them ambitious in various ways. Human kingdoms and holdouts of the old Imperial older have regressed from the Imperial age, collapsing under the slave revolutions in the age of woes and a plethora of other threats seemingly erupting from the earth itself. These human kingdoms struggle and compete against the various beast-folk hordes that roam the woods and the other small nations comprised of dwarf, elf and others before and after the age of woes. Their is no year that goes by that is not marked by war and bloody competition in the bountiful lands of Alcenia.

*The hatred of the southern scourge : due to raids and kidnapping of humans by the iniki in the alcenian lowlands, the iniki are hated, hunted and killed on sight by most humans. Humans across alcenia have heard of their tendency to raid towns, cities and even kill children and eat the living. They will not find safe harbor in most places. The goblins of the south aided the iniki in their crimes, although rumors say that they both killed, maimed and burned their way through the defenseless and the innocent of the alcenian lowlands. Especially in the alcenian lowlands and amongst many humans, goblins are despised on mass due to the actions of the southern tribe.

---

---

ACTIVE EVENTS

(Will be marked optional if effects on the nations only occur if "opting" in)

* Seers and truthsayers mention a time of "blood and fire" is near. A time where one will look at the sky and know fear.

* Spring has arrived and the harvest are good. Storehouses can be filled and many a kingdom look to the campaigning seasons to come with anticipation or dread.

* (OPTIONAL - Short to middling timeframe) -The depths of Jurnmeir- Rumors of the location of the lost dwarven city of Kal'Jurnmeir have been making the rounds in Alcenia. The fabled city of wonder, where dwarven smiths crafted warmachines and amazing machinations for their own and often for the use of the Empire, who used them to conquer much of the continent. If one would to find such a place, who knows what riches or knowledge could be find their.

* (OPTIONAL - long timeframe) -The gates of sin- The gates of the old Imperial capital remain shut and anyone daring to cross the blackened soil and desert sands that surround the great city walls for miles on end never return.
The Imperial capital was rumored to be the most magical place, a city that housed millions, each house marked with marble and gold, libraries the size of castles, Temples that reached for the skies and endless knowledge about the world, magic and even the enegmatic gods themselves. One can not imagine what one would learn if one could breach the magical barrier countless others have triend to slip through.

*

---

---

[Tysklandia]

Reserved

[Spindle]

Planning Room
Ferial Tialle
Shai Tialle

Kurush Nevealiaa stooped as he entered the room, though the door was easily tall enough for almost all Tialle: the mix of giant and orcish blood in his veins made him easily seven foot tall, and there were few doors which he wouldn't have to stoop to get through. As he straightened up, the oddly fine-boned face was revealed to Morog Tii, eyes burning with intelligence shifting from the High Councillor to Hashiir, the second mage the Free Republic had managed to produce. For a moment something passed between the half-orc and the fiery thelai, before the two relaxed slightly.

"One of your planning sessions?" Kurush asked by way of greeting, gesturing to the plotting table behind them, strewn with markers.

"It was more of a thought experiment." Morog replied simply, "We can discuss it later. Have you performed and augury recently?"

"How recently?"

"This month."

Kurush considered the question for a moment, before slowly shaking his head.

"I have not." He decided after a moment.

"You should." Hashiir spoke, her eyes fierce as she proffered him a tarot deck, "You need to see this."

Kurush blinked slowly, before reaching a spade-like hand out and gingerly taking the tarot deck. Placing it down on the table, he let his hand fall loosely on the deck, glancing up at his audience for a moment.

"This may take a while."

Then magic was crackling through the air as he drew his first card, flipping it face up on the table. A scaled, fanged lizard soared up and out of the card, before Kurush removed his fingers and the illusion evaporated. A second card followed suit, then a third and a fourth in an expanding spiral. It had been nearly twenty minutes when Kurush finally stepped back from the spiral, grimacing as his eyes roved the cards. The dragon, the skull, the wraith, the sword, the cup, the tempest, the wolf. None of the cards laid out were good omens. The only saving grace was the hourglass at the end - there was time before this came to pass.

"Ah." He managed, "How long have these been foreseen for?"

"About a month now." Hashiir replied tersely, nodding to the spiral, "How well can you read the cards?"

"Not well at all."

"Can you make out any details?"

Kurush was silent for a moment, shaking his head slowly.

"I don't like this." He rumbled.

"I wasn't expecting you to." Morog interjected, "But we need you to understand why this part is necessary."

"We're performing a Cull." A voice finished, and Kurush half-turned to see the uniformed figure of Hal-Hardan standing in the doorway. Stepping over the threshold, she nodded to the two mages and the High Councillor in turn.

"Apologies for my lateness. I had discussions with Jeleri which couldn't be fobbed off."

"You mentioned a true Cull." Kurush noted, "I did not believe we had the manpower for such an undertaking."

"We don't." Hardan grimaced, "Not a traditional Cull, anyway."

"That's where you come in, Kurush." Morog spoke up, "We want you - and Hashiir - to draw in whatever monstrosities are out there, then have Hal-Hardan's men cut them down."

"You want lures."

"You won't be in danger." Hardan replied, "It's always an even exchange, Kurush."

Kurush grimaced at that, glancing to Hashiir for support.

"I'm still not a fan." The thelai agreed "We still don't know for sure what's out there - what if we wake a dragon up by accident?"

"It is possible that in doing this, we start the chain of events leading to the devastation we seek to avoid." Kurush added.

"I'd always prefer to get the first strike in than wait for my enemy to hit me first." Hal-Hardan grinned, "Besides, we can take on a dragon or two. It's the smaller critters which worry me more than anything."

"Then I propose we hold off on any Cull until we have determined how populous the monstrosities of this region truly are, and how easily Hal-Hardan's men can deal with them."

Hal-Hardan nodded slowly at that.

"That sounds reasonable enough. High Councillor?"

Morog Tii sighed after a moment.

"Very well, then. We shall reconvene when Hal-Hardan has the necessary information. Hashiir, Kurush, you may leave now."

As the two mages left the room muted murmurs could be heard from the hall, growing fainter and fainter before it vanished altogether. The expression of sombre understanding fell away from Morog's face, to be replaced with soft satisfaction. Hal-Hardan grinned at him, walking around to the opposite side of the map table.

"Told you that would work."

"Indeed you did." Morog agreed, "I assume your men are already moving?"

"Of course. We've spent one hundred fifty years hunting these things - we know how to do it."

"How long until you have an accurate assessment?"

"A week or two, at least. We're bottlenecked pretty hard from the east, but we'll have a good idea about the west in a week."

"Excellent."

There was a moment of silence between the two before Hal-Hardan sighed.

"You know you can't just...declare war on an ecosystem?" She asked after a moment, "We can't wipe all of the uglies out, and once they get to breeding..."

"I know." Morog nodded, "This is just to give us some room to breathe - clear the roads for a little, push back the wilderness for a while."

"And get our home troops some experience?"

"That too." Morog admitted, "And hopefully shift what the tarot is saying."

"Shift the tarot?"

"At present, anyone with even the most meagre potential can some of that tarot. Some of them might even realise the significance. If that information became widely available..."

Hal-Hardan nodded with sudden understanding.

"So you're hoping that a big enough gesture will shift what the tarot cards are saying?"

"Or distort it, indeed."

Hal-Hardan glanced down at the map in front of her - occasional bastions of civilisation scattered throughout an ocean of verdant green.

"Are we ready for what's going to come?"

"It's doubtful that anyone on this continent is prepared. Though I would very much enjoy being wrong in that assertion."

Hal-Hardan considered that for a moment.

"I'll go and talk to my people, then." She decided, "We might as well get to planning."

"Of course." Morog nodded, "Don't let me keep you, then. I'll expect a report in a week."

"Of course." Hardan nodded, before leaving the room.

Morog glanced back at the map table. The tarot cards were still on the table, winding outwards from the centre towards the edges. Lifting the dragon, he noted with some surprise that it had been laid directly on the Niaria mountains, the other harbingers of death and destruction spiralling outwards from it. For a moment his eyes narrowed, before he made a mental note to talk to Hal-Hardan about those mountains. It might just be coincidence...but tarot cards were tarot cards. Sometimes they revealed surprising things.

[Hallimas Islands]

Chapter I - Challenge to the Command

The air was moist and humid, High King Thukrar wanted to make sure the Council atmosphere was as uncomfortable as possible in order to persuade the Low Kings. He boiled the extra water from today's swimming in Haldomor-Khal and ensured that the Council chamber's air was as thick and hot as possible. A page approached him.

The lad looked timid and Thukrar was unsure whether he was sweating from stress or from the heat of the room, he boomed, "Speak, boy!"

The page stuttered, "The L-low K-kings are h-here..."

Thukrar chuckled, "And?"

The page asked, "Is it not... Uhm... Ah... humid, here?"

Thukrar answered resolutely, "No, lad, where'd you get an idea like that?"

Horns were heard beyond the door, one by one, each sounded from each of the other fourteen mountains. Soon footsteps were heard, it sounded as if an army was marching towards the room. Soon a large boom was sounded before the door as it opened. Each King found their seat and the doors closed. There was silence for a moment before the High King spoke.

He announced, "Hail, Low Kings. It is good we had this meeting. The atmosphere is to your liking, is it not?" They all looked to eachother nervously, "Hm, thought so. Well, I would like to set the agenda for this meeting... The Command of the Elders-" The Low Kings murmured and groaned to each other, Thukrar held his hand up to silence them, "It is time. We must break the Command made by Thorin and only the Clergy and the Low King's Council can overturn a Command together."

Haldor Shembarkam, descendant of High King Thurin and Low King of Shemakar-Khal, stood and spoke, "Do you really expect us to agree with you? Thurin, my ancestor, made that command because that command kept us safe. You have all seen from your own Scopes, we record everything we see out there. Plagues, death and destruction! It's all shite out there! We have paradise in here... Paradise, do you want to infect this paradise with the outside world's plagues? No! Anyways, you need the Clergy's support for this and they will not support you so neither will we."

Thukrar smirked, he flicked his finger and put back ventilation into the room, he hoped he would make such an outburst. The High Priest appeared from a back room also, coincidentally, with his most extravagant and opulent dress and beard he approached the Council. He stated three words, "We support Thukrar," and strolled back where he came from. The Low Kings were astonished.

Uthar 'Iron-side' Khelsar, Low King of Uldom-Khal - most respected and eldest of the Low Kings - stood, he spoke, "Fools! We must all clean our scopes. Alcenia is a better place now. Grass now grows and Kingdoms are rising. Perhaps we may see our old Dwarven brothers... I say that we shall support Thukrar as our Clergy has... I've seen it, in my dreams from Khul... The Dwarves all across in every mountain, we craftsmen trading our machines for riches! It's about time we did this. Open the gates. Break down the Avalanche Walls. The High-Kingdom of the Suthar-Khals shall appear again." The Low Kings applauded, except for Haldor. High King Thukrar also applauded, all had been decided without him saying a word. He sounded the Vote Horn. The High Priest sent an envoy to voice their opinion. The tallies were almost unanimous, 15 to 1, Haldor ensured his voice was heard. He cursed this day and foresaw a terrible future for the Suthar-Khals.

The Challenge to the Elders was sounded, almost immediately, the things that hid the High Kingdom were broken. Each Mountain Gate was shown in grandeur never seen in centuries. The old watchtowers were fixed and manned by guardsmen. The old roads were built again. The old ways were brought back, through reform. Thukrar then gave a Command, envoys would be sent all over Alcenia. These intrepid Dwarves, using old maps, would be sent to find new kingdoms. They would be sent with a message in the Imperial text. Also, these envoys would be serving ambassadors to the High Kingdom as well.

Hail!

Ye Kingdoms of New and of Old. The High Kingdom of the Fifteen Peaks has announced itself to the world we invite you all to a feast before our Capital, Haldomor-Khal - meaning Strong's Mountain, roughly - at the most grand feast in days. Bring only peace and tales of the outside world. You see, our High Kingdom is ancient. We are Dwarves, and we have hidden from the world for too long. We would like to know of this new Alcenia.

Mahshemkat-Khul's Blessing be Upon You

The Southern Mountains were never so alive, the poor were given jobs once more. The rich got off their lazy arses and explored the surrounding area. They created a sphere of influence and each rich dwarf would set up their own logging company or hunting company in name of their mountain. This was good. No longer would they feed from the underground farms, barely getting any sunlight. Dwarven hunters soon attempted to get adjusted to the new fauna in their neighbourhood. The economy boomed with these new products, they began projects on a large feast hall - built on wood - before Haldomor-Khal, for the Non-Dwarves. Thukrar "Hammer-Head" was now known as, Thukrar "Gate-Opener" Khalsar. The Gates were opened and things were going well, lets see how long this shall last.

[Nuxipal]

The Stone Sigil, Deserts of Barak

The land looked so small from the vantage of the great mountain known as the Stone Sigil. The mountain itself was visible for hundreds of miles around. What those hundreds of miles away could not see was the Court of the High King. Carved into the Northwest face of the mountain, about two-thirds of the way to the top, was a large gate. It was impossibly large and would give anyone the sense they were walking into the home of a Giant. The Great Gate had two smaller gates on each of its doors. These were guarded by two members of the Dragonguard, an elite military order of the Dwarves in this region of the world.

Inside the great gates was a glittering hall. Crystalline spiral columns rise nearly a hundred feet into the ceiling which is decorated with glittering gems which catch any kind of light. Truly, an impressive horde. At the far end of the great hall, some five hundred feet away, a dragon seems to be holding court. Dwarves are the only other race present. Two smaller dragons stand guard behind their High King. While they are smaller, they are still significantly larger than the dwarves whom are petitioning the Dragon.

"High King of our Alliance. To the south the continent is still in chaos. Our own surface borders shrink daily to surfacers. Our warriors cannot hold back another invasion. We petition you to send your kin to once more clear the islands along side our Human allies. If we can conquer and fortify these islands, the treasures of our conquest will add to both your own and your kin's hordes."

The dragon the dwarves are petitioning looks across them. "No. My kind will not reveal themselves simply to assist your greed dwarf lord. Your Kings know their place and that is why they did not come themselves here."

The Dwarf who had spoke took a step back. The dragon seemed more angry than before. So angry that lightning seemed to crackle around his neck. "I apologize great King. I meant no offense. I was simply hoping that we could minimize our casualties and.."

He is cut off as the Dragon roars at him, "You are done. Leave the Sigil and send in the next petitioner."

Nulkihm, Southern Barak

The surface city of Nulkihm, a bustling coastal trade city. The humans of the town seem to be extremely busy with their craft. To the north of town, a long wall connects the city to a large mountain fortress that descends into the mountain's depths. The mountain range to the north seems to keep the harshness of the desert beyond away from the communities there. In a seaside manor, a tanned skin human sat on a balcony. Behind him a large library extended into the manor. He turned his head and a dwarf in scaled armor walked towards him.

"Lord Cyrax, your lunch appointment has arrived."

The man closes his book and stands "Very well. Let us speak with this next candidate."

He walks down the stairwell and through a set of doors. While he is not yet on the ground floor, a vast garden is laid out before him as the indoor greenhouse holds a full tropical garden. He sits at a small table in which small sandwiches and tea cups. A young woman arrives and takes a seat across from Lord Cyrax. "Welcome, Lady Ishara. Thank you for your interest in my expedition. I am Lord Cyrax, do you have any questions before we begin."

The young woman declines to ask questions and Cyrax begins an interview process while they have sandwiches and tea. An hour later she walks out of the Manor with a contract in hand. Cyrax stands in his garden looking out a window as she leaves and heads down the street. He just added the last member of his crew. Now he just needed to acquire a ship of sufficient size and his expedition could begin.

[Kaledoria]

Orderlands of Röken

"See? They did not even put up a fight." Sir Heinrich said to his Swordbrother and liege, Friedrich.
Friedrich replied: "Yeah, but to many escaped. Don't you think, they'll cause you trouble again soon? - Besides, I really just needed an excuse to get back into the saddle, put on that armor again and get away from the court. An uprising was just the right reason for it."
"Well, your help is appreciated, brother," Heinrich said and smiled. "As far as those that got away are concerned, we have made quite a number of prisoners, too. They'll be send to the mines until spring two year from now. But first there will be three days of flogging for those that don't tell us the names of at least one that got away."
Friedrich, who was at first surprised over the mild forced labor sentence, raised an eyebrow: "Three days? They can survive this?" - "Only six strikes on the first day," Heinrich explained, "eight on the next and ten on the last. The twist is the pillory in between, not because of the humiliation but to deprive them of sleep. Even if they think they are tough guys on the first day, sleepy, in pain and facing the greatest number of strikes yet to come, they will surely talk before suffering the ten. I am optimistic, that we will find out the names of those that fled."

Friedrich nodded and made a mental note. The old knight Heinrich had a reputation for being a just lord, hard but fair. It was questionable whether the prisoners would share this opinion a few days from now, but Heinrich's plan to focus more on finding the remaining criminals than to punish the captured ones for the crime of the escaped, too, that was very decent of him.

------

Friedrich returned to Felsheim, only to find preparations for an impromptu gathering of the Orders in process. In just two days, they managed to get at least some representatives of all the Orders together in the capital, although sadly some of the more remotely ones had not yet received word of their Ordermasters about the topic of the hour: Suthkar-Khals reaching out to the other nations.

In the citadel, Friedrich welcomed his Knight-brothers. There were actually quite a number of Ordermasters among them, including the Grandmasters of the other four great orders.

"It is true, that the Dwarves to the west have send out messengers, that they would like to participate in diplomatics! And they seam to pursuit good relations." Friedrich summarized the topic.
"Suthkar-Khals? After all this time? Wasn't it 60 years since the last contact?" someone asked and an older knight answered the question with a hint of laughter: "Yes, 60 years ago, The Great Brother Bartholomeus, who fought through the thickest wilderness, crossed the highers mountains, only to end up in front of a shut gate. He was threatened from the other side to turn around or face death. Hardly a contact."
The knights laughed, then turned more serious again. "This is a great opportunity. They probably don't have any ships and will pay us mighty for some of our galleys to protect their shores. And they are probably sitting on their Gold and Silver and don't know what to do with it by now." - "For dwarfs, 'sitting on it' is a very serious business to do with precious metal, you know," someone said.

"It is indeed an opportunity, we shall not miss," Friedrich declared. "Whether we can establish trade relations or just find a possible ally against the threat of the rising hordes south of the sea, both is very welcome. I will personally accept this invitation and visit the Dwarfs. In case it is a trap, the other Grandmasters will stay here but I expect each of you to send one of your trusted bodyguards along with me, so we can represent all of the Orderlands. There are another few spots in this retinue to fill, foremost: Does one of you have a Dwarven knight brother in his Order or subordinate bands..." many of the knights noted. Despite their relatively low number in Röken, dwarfs were popular in the lower ranks of knighthood due to their reliability and fighting abilities. But Friedrich had not finished his sentence: "... that we could bring along to such a very important diplomatic event." The knights who had just nodded their heads leaned back unsure, doubting the diplomatic talents of their vassals. Only one Ordermaster spoke out: "I guess. Durhard von Kärnten, Headmaster of the Lindwurm-Band is, as far as I know the only Dwarven Headmaster of the realm and he definitely has some respect among his kin. He has studied Dwarven history and knows their different dialects. He could be a valuable translator and advisor (and he'd probably never speak with me again if I did not suggest him for this)."
"What was that last part? Ah, whatever. ... Durhard, yes, I think I've met him at a tournament 4 years ago, he's in." Friedrich answered, "To the other people I need..."

The meeting took about half an hour, some tasks were given out and further meetings in smaller circles were agreed upon. The next days, Friedrich prepared his trip. His brothers had gathered a lot of information about the Dwarfs prior to the time they secluded themselves, as well as the land, it's dangers and geography. He had brought a few gifts and - a rather difficult subject - a detailed terrain map of the border region. As it seamed there was quite a wide stripe of no-mans-land that was only sparsely populated by a few hermits, Wolfmen and a few wild Dwarfs that had tried to move to Suthkar-Khals but did not get in either. Suthkar-Khals never claimed this land (as far as anyone in the Orderlands knew) and for Röken they were to unimportant and to far out to efficiently tax, so they had never bothered either.

[Jhet]

Argentumurbem
The Silver City

The golden sun of spring had risen to its zenith, as it had a dozen days previous. It shone bright and lonely in the blue sky, accompanied by only a dozen scattered clouds more mist than blanket. With the midday sun came a soft breeze, warm and comforting in its nature. The lands of the Frey were blessed by such during the seasons which followed on from the purifying cold of winter. It was yet another example of their destiny, of the eventual hegemony that the Frey, and Arru at large, would possess.

But today was not the time for hegemony.

Ahriman al Feu walked the streets of the capital with little care for his surroundings, taking one turn after another at random. The clicking of his wooden sandals against the cobbled streets were lost in the face of the heavy drumbeat of his escort. Four Praetorians, clad in the shirts of copper that served as their ceremonial dress, followed almost to the same rhythm of their charge. No one spoke, not Ahriman, not his guards, and not the cityfolk who made space for the councilman's advance.

Her Eternal Magnificence's Speaker had a face of divine contemplation, of distant thought that betrayed to those around him only the idea that he was not entirely within his own body. It was a mask. A mask of necessity, he would tell himself. To bear the weight of responsibility of a kingdom, of a nation dragging itself out of the quagmire of a century of bloodshed and fear, one had to become more than a man among thousands. Like Her Eternal Magnificence herself, blessed be her vision and soul, the nobleman had to become something undying. And there was no better way in which a man of power could translate that to their subjects than through an aloft image. A mask behind which they could conceal what humanity was left to them.

Al Feu felt his way through the streets of Argentumurbem, unwilling to trust his rational mind to chart a course through the maze his father had created.

Some would call it faith, trusting in that enigmatic presence which permeated the world. Perhaps even Ahriman, one of the Black Council, would use such a word to describe it. In the end he couldn't care what the people called it. His was not to define the world around them, the magics and mysteries which were locked away in the submerged depths of the Black Library or hidden away in the mountain holdfasts of the Ferrato. No, his was to command. To lead. To secure a victory everlasting. For the children, and their children's children.

They finally came to a building, the Speaker and his Hyl guardsmen. It was a modest construction of stone and timber two stories high, its upper floor touching that of its neighbours. Without waiting for an invitation, Ahriman entered through a door of raw oak.

For a moment the vitality of Arru seemed to disappear, replaced with a cold darkness better found in a distant cave. Yet the nobleman pressed on, looking neither left nor right as he made for the stairs. At his back followed two of the Praetorians, their brother guardsmen flanking the entrance like statues. Statues with wicked maces held in tensed arms.

"Dol Ahriman!"

The girl leapt from her modest desk, throwing herself into the open arms of the most powerful man in Arru.

"Sanaz!" he cried in turn, laughing as the child drove him back a step with the force of her embrace. Pushing her back so he could get a good look, the man broke out into a smile. "You are eating well?"

The girl dutifully nodded, joining Ahriman in breaking into a fit of giggles.

The Speaker laughed in equal measure, his goals forgotten for one moment of brief contentment at innocent joy. But it was only for a moment. He raised his eyes to take in the rest of the modest room, turning to finally acknowledge the presence of Sanaz's mute caretaker. "Her possessions?"

The caretaker held out a small bag, half empty. It was a common enough sight for Vapan's Meb, who had taken to personally greeting the girls two years ago. Orphans were treated poorly by the world, even with the kindness offered by the Imperial capital and the divine sisterhoods which spread out across Arru. But after the morrow's activities, she would grow to own more than a few scraps taken at a wayside.

"Look, I drew you," Sanaz declared.

The picture was crude by any measure, Ahriman's distinctive features nowhere to be seen on the parchment. Instead he looked like the image his title and position conjured up: a man in black stern and dominating. It was an image closer to his father than him. Or at the least, how Ahriman liked to think. "It is wonderfull," he said instead.

"Have you come to take me to her?"

"Yes," he replied, sadness threatening to claim his voice. "Yes you are."

[Dragos Bee]

The Basilea of the Eldest God

In the Grand Palace of Sophiapolis the Third, Princess-Ambassador Judith was one of the first women to get the much-coveted position of 'Ambassador', even if her detractors would say it was because of her connections to the blood royal. With bright red hair and green eyes, as well as a tall and thin build, she fit the Basilea's aristocracy's standards for beauty quite well. But as the lady reviewed her papers, her mood was all business as she turned to her aide, a woman named Anna. She then asked, "These Shurth-kal Dwarves...they worship One God, as we do?"

The answer from Anna was, "Yes, they do. Considering how close they are to our location, it is possible that our faiths share a history in common."

A smile from Judith. "Then I will be happy to go to their halls; hopefully, this is the start of a new friendship. Now, what does the Department of Foriegn Affairs want me to get them as presents?"

Anna would say, "Improved smithing and metallurgical techniques; we need better steel. Bright swords and axes are needed to continue the deforestation efforts in the Westerwoods. Also, new ways of mining and quarrying, architecture and masonry, and ways to strengthen the walls of Sophiapolis the Third."

Judith smiled as she paced her rich rooms, lined with silken hangings; the only blemish was the stacks of paperwork around and on her desk. "And what have we to give them in exchange?"

Anna's reply was, "Wheat, Barley, Wine, Silk, Cotton, Pistachios, Almonds, and Dried Fruit. We also have knowledge of how the Age of Sorrows went in the surface."

Judith would nod. "Do not forget Medicinal Herbs and Fur as well as Silk. Now, I heard that one of the Suthkar-Khal Kingdom's last moves before the Age of Sorrows was to abolish slavery. Does that mean they'd look kindly on our practice of Jubilee?" Jubilee was the forgiveness of (most) debts owed to the rich and the freedom of all slaves every seven years. Yes, the Basilea practiced both slavery and emancipation. "Or would they think that Jubilee isn't enough?"

Anna smiled, "Don't project your own views onto those Dwarves now; remember that the Suthkar-Khal were slave traders for a long time before they changed tack. Now, we really should be going; we still haven't arranged the escort, the baggage train, and the number of your guards - only Vigila and Kataphraktoi would do!"

Judith reminded her aide, "and Toxotai; we need bowmen. I will also need my own bow. Either way, this promises to be a most promising trip."

[Hallimas Islands]

Orderlands of Röken

"See? They did not even put up a fight." Sir Heinrich said to his Swordbrother and liege, Friedrich.
Friedrich replied: "Yeah, but to many escaped. Don't you think, they'll cause you trouble again soon? - Besides, I really just needed an excuse to get back into the saddle, put on that armor again and get away from the court. An uprising was just the right reason for it."
"Well, your help is appreciated, brother," Heinrich said and smiled. "As far as those that got away are concerned, we have made quite a number of prisoners, too. They'll be send to the mines until spring two year from now. But first there will be three days of flogging for those that don't tell us the names of at least one that got away."
Friedrich, who was at first surprised over the mild forced labor sentence, raised an eyebrow: "Three days? They can survive this?" - "Only six strikes on the first day," Heinrich explained, "eight on the next and ten on the last. The twist is the pillory in between, not because of the humiliation but to deprive them of sleep. Even if they think they are tough guys on the first day, sleepy, in pain and facing the greatest number of strikes yet to come, they will surely talk before suffering the ten. I am optimistic, that we will find out the names of those that fled."

Friedrich nodded and made a mental note. The old knight Heinrich had a reputation for being a just lord, hard but fair. It was questionable whether the prisoners would share this opinion a few days from now, but Heinrich's plan to focus more on finding the remaining criminals than to punish the captured ones for the crime of the escaped, too, that was very decent of him.

------

Friedrich returned to Felsheim, only to find preparations for an impromptu gathering of the Orders in process. In just two days, they managed to get at least some representatives of all the Orders together in the capital, although sadly some of the more remotely ones had not yet received word of their Ordermasters about the topic of the hour: Suthkar-Khals reaching out to the other nations.

In the citadel, Friedrich welcomed his Knight-brothers. There were actually quite a number of Ordermasters among them, including the Grandmasters of the other four great orders.

"It is true, that the Dwarves to the west have send out messengers, that they would like to participate in diplomatics! And they seam to pursuit good relations." Friedrich summarized the topic.
"Suthkar-Khals? After all this time? Wasn't it 60 years since the last contact?" someone asked and an older knight answered the question with a hint of laughter: "Yes, 60 years ago, The Great Brother Bartholomeus, who fought through the thickest wilderness, crossed the highers mountains, only to end up in front of a shut gate. He was threatened from the other side to turn around or face death. Hardly a contact."
The knights laughed, then turned more serious again. "This is a great opportunity. They probably don't have any ships and will pay us mighty for some of our galleys to protect their shores. And they are probably sitting on their Gold and Silver and don't know what to do with it by now." - "For dwarfs, 'sitting on it' is a very serious business to do with precious metal, you know," someone said.

"It is indeed an opportunity, we shall not miss," Friedrich declared. "Whether we can establish trade relations or just find a possible ally against the threat of the rising hordes south of the sea, both is very welcome. I will personally accept this invitation and visit the Dwarfs. In case it is a trap, the other Grandmasters will stay here but I expect each of you to send one of your trusted bodyguards along with me, so we can represent all of the Orderlands. There are another few spots in this retinue to fill, foremost: Does one of you have a Dwarven knight brother in his Order or subordinate bands..." many of the knights noted. Despite their relatively low number in Röken, dwarfs were popular in the lower ranks of knighthood due to their reliability and fighting abilities. But Friedrich had not finished his sentence: "... that we could bring along to such a very important diplomatic event." The knights who had just nodded their heads leaned back unsure, doubting the diplomatic talents of their vassals. Only one Ordermaster spoke out: "I guess. Durhard von Kärnten, Headmaster of the Lindwurm-Band is, as far as I know the only Dwarven Headmaster of the realm and he definitely has some respect among his kin. He has studied Dwarven history and knows their different dialects. He could be a valuable translator and advisor (and he'd probably never speak with me again if I did not suggest him for this)."
"What was that last part? Ah, whatever. ... Durhard, yes, I think I've met him at a tournament 4 years ago, he's in." Friedrich answered, "To the other people I need..."

The meeting took about half an hour, some tasks were given out and further meetings in smaller circles were agreed upon. The next days, Friedrich prepared his trip. His brothers had gathered a lot of information about the Dwarfs prior to the time they secluded themselves, as well as the land, it's dangers and geography. He had brought a few gifts and - a rather difficult subject - a detailed terrain map of the border region. As it seamed there was quite a wide stripe of no-mans-land that was only sparsely populated by a few hermits, Wolfmen and a few wild Dwarfs that had tried to move to Suthkar-Khals but did not get in either. Suthkar-Khals never claimed this land (as far as anyone in the Orderlands knew) and for Röken they were to unimportant and to far out to efficiently tax, so they had never bothered either.

High King Thukrar stood proudly on the re-opened entrance to the Fifteen Peaks. His Command asked for all Mountains to be opened, however, foreigners would only be permitted in Haldomor-Khal, as of now. The Orderlands of Röken were the closest of the Foreign Nations... Aside from those cat-folk but no news came from them, Thukrar had some sort of disliking towards them but tolerated them to an extent. His Dwarves were busy building the new Feast Hall right outside the Mountain Gate, leading to Haldomor-Khal Proper. Horns blew through the valley. Watchmen had caught sight of a small convoy going through the Borderlands between us and the Röken. A small escort party, lead by the High King himself marched out to meet these visitors. Bearing gifts of gold and useless jewellry, in case they were unfriendly. The High King marched with his guard to intercept Friedrich and his Knight-Brothers. He met them on an old, overgrown Alcenian road leading its way to the Suthar-Khals.

Thukrar greeted them himself, his ruby eye glistening in the sunlight. He wore a red robe and carried and axe in his belt. He had the look of a hands-on King and bowed before the foreigners saying, in an old Alcenian dialect, "Hail, ye newcomers. I bid thee welcome and good tidings in our lands, the lands of the Grimmr, the lands of the Dwarves. I would like to escort thee to my abode, for I am the High King of the Suthar-Khals and would most certainly like to form a well bond between our two nation."

[Darksworth]

Kingdom of Zathrak

Location: The Kingdom of Zathrak, duh...

The forest of Pines, the ones that inhibit the deep and macabre south, was calmly quiet today. Not that that was a bad thing, but it wasn't necessarily good either.

It was treated at first by the people of Zathrak as a welcome change, something to break the ice of terrors in the south for awhile. Which was certainly what the populace and their ancestors wanted ever since settling here. But the higher figures and authorities of the Kingdom, including the King himself, were made wary of the situation. Explorations, made in the name of knowledge and wisdom, were conducted to find an explanation. Some say that like the Age of Woes, the monsters and horrific beings of the Pines are slowly fading from the continent of Alcenia, while others speak of a new migration pattern as the world enters a new seasonal cycle. Although some say that the creatures of the deep South are only vying for time until the nations of the North falls again into chaos and cathartic dogma.

Even if most of these speculations and theories are false, the Kingdom is not taking any chances. The enlistment and recruitment for the "military' of the Kingdom has started to grow and renovations and reforms of the wooden and stone walls of Zathrak's various cities are now being done in response to the uneasy lack of terrors from the woods. The policies of isolation doesn't seem too far away from being re-introduced as well, since King Kalisto has considered that the best course of action in the current situation is of security in being a lone nation.

Trade to the North has also started to become a slight, a very small slight that is, of a priority of the Kingdom. As the primary resources of the Zathrakan nation, which are meat and hide along with livestock and exotic materials that comes from the monsters of the South, are beginning to slowly lack. Although the abundance of the more common monstrosities are still unnaffected, like the Dadas and the Red Hounds. Although that doesn't mean that the Kingdom would begin to open up to it's fellow nation-siblings from the North and even begin relaying major trade with them, as Zathrak still enforces a strict law of outsider detachment throughout it's domain.

The Abyss tribe, a conglomeration of Orcish and Half-men beings near the Kingdom of Zathrak was made an exception. As the King has began considering opening a form of "co-operation" and non-aggression with the horde, an action which was booed by the populace of Zathrak as the people saw the nearby tribe as degenerates of unlike the Southern and Zathrakan Orcs. But still, it was a political and diplomatic course of decision still being considered by the higher ups.

The envoys of the Dwarvish kingdom of the "Fifteen Peaks" was received in well and friendly manners, which was unlike Zathrak's political attitude. Although the message they came to bear was at the very most was disappointing and even a bore. As the Kingdom of Zathrak has no plan of introducing outsiders and so-called ancient nations of the North into a simple tour and introduction around the Kingdom, unless they want to settle in the South, permanently. And so the envoys were dismissed shortly after the King and his fellow meritocratic politicians heard the message in Imperial text. Although Kalisto would take note of the Suthkar-Kals domain into the Zathrakan maps of Alcenian sovereignities as another nation in the Alcenian continent.

[Spindle]

Slopes
Mount Kel'urithier
Shi Tialle

Flames rolled up the mountain's forested slopes like a tidal wave breaching against a breach, an audible roar increasing in volume as it surged towards the few-dozen figures scrambling up towards the summit. Larger shapes could be seen stampeding around and through them, the thunder of Bhoerkaral hooves a lower counterpoint to the hiss and spit of flames as they leapt and capered from tree to tree. The sky was darkened with smoke, clouds of birds flitting across the sky in search of safer perches. It was just another turn of the cycle of death and rebirth which encompassed all things.

"Just one Dragonbreath, my foot." Sapper-Sergeant Jerkell spat, almost stumbling as the ground skittered away beneath his footfall, "We were trying to gauge their numbers, not turn them into Keruli-cursed roasts!"

"It's not my fault the Fangwolves smelled us!" Nearid shot back, "If I recall, C'serii was the one who decided to head downwind of them."

"And now she's dead." Illinis interjected, "Now can we focus?"

As if to underline the point a wave of heat scorched their backs, spurring them to scramble up yet faster. A Bhoerkaral stampeded past them, flames dancing on its fur with malevolent glee, forcing the loose knot to scatter for a moment before closing together once more. A tree ahead of them exploded into flames, showering cinders into their path before they were out of the treeline and onto the central ridge which ran across the top of the mountain. A few of their company's members had already assembled, doubled over and breathing hard as the heat from the burning forest below radiated up towards them.

"Nearid?" Jerkell asked after a moment, "Can we make a firebreak down that way?"

Nearid shook her head slowly, large elven eyes roaming along the still-spreading wall of fire below them:

"No point." She sighed after a moment, "It won't spread over the ridge, and I don't want to start a fire down that side as well."

"I feel you shouldn't start any more fires at all." Illinis muttered, slinging her crossbow off of her back and checking the string quickly, "I was under the impression you were trained to use those safely."

Nearid glowered at the goblin for a moment before glancing up and down the mountain ridge, lips moving silently as she counted the heads along the ridge.

"One-thirty two. We came in with..."

She trailed off in silent thought.

"One-thirty seven." Jerkell finished for her, "We lost C'serii to the Fangwolves, Fearid sprained her ankle and Tortoral and En'ke'chen escorted her back."

There was a moment of mental calculation.

"No casualties from the fire, then." Nearid sighed, "Thank the Three."

"Thank Illinis." Jerkell retorted, "If it weren't for her I'd be throwing you back into that fire right now."

"You are, of course, welcome." Illinis cocked her head smugly.

"Quit laying it on." Nearid glared at the elf, "You weren't so great back Eresualla way."

A brief, haughty snort from the elf.

"Only because they achieved momentary surprise."

"Oh, can it would you?" Jerkell hissed, "Head down the slope and see if there are any fangwolves left there? Try not to set this side of the mountain on fire, would you?"

"Sir, yes sir." Nearid growled, sliding her corssbow into her arms and nocking a cracker before glancing to the elf, "Ready?"

Illinis grin beatifically.

"Why, of course I am. As ever."

Nearid ground her teeth together and slipped onto the downwards track, crouched low as she disappeared towards the treeline. A moment later Illinis was running after her, crossbow held looser as she flowed over the ground like a wraith. Jerkell sighed to himself as they vanished into the trees, closing his eyes for a moment as he contemplated exactly what kind of words Perens was going to have with him over this whole debacle. Angry ones, he suspected. Below him, the fires were starting to burn out in the branches of the trees on the leeward side of the mountain, skeletal trees strangely contorted and ashen.

Heaving a sigh, he eventually turned to where he could here Perens' voice thundering above the natural clamour of a company at rest and made towards it. He'd barely made it two steps when there was a distant, thunderous detonation followed by a tree slowly toppling on the verdant side of the mountain. Before it had even hit the ground, his crossbow was in his hands as he jumped down onto the path below and started to make his way down the mountain with a jog which would have completely ruined any element of surprise he might have managed, were it not for the stream of invective doing that job already. Behind him, half a dozen other soldiers were following at a more cautious pace, crossbows and swords readied.

It was a few minutes' advance before they stumbled into what was now a clearing where Nearid and Illinis were crouched, peering at something Jerkell couldn't see. Two dead fangwolves were slumped near their position in pools of their own blood, and a thick red smear on the ground leading to the upper portion of a third's body. As he and his impromptu squad entered, the elf and the goblin stood and made their way over revealing a hole half-obstructed by thick, matted roots, evidently revealed by the explosion which had alerted Jerkell to the situation and smeared the third fangwolf along the forest floor. Eventually, the two parties stopped opposite each other and Jerkell indicated the hole.

"You two remember what happened the last time you started throwing munitions around on mountains?"

"The situation required the use of it." Illinis shrugged.

"And besides." Nearid grinned, "You'll never believe what, sir. There's writing in that tunnel, and it's dwarvish."

Jerkell's eyes widened momentarily, before he clamped down on the reaction. Nearid had seen it though, a broad grin splitting her craggy face.

"Feel like going spelunking, sir?"

[New Socialist South Africa]

Spring, 57 years since the end of the Age of Woes
Svajonių Urvas (Dream Cave), Vilkų Miškas (Wolf Forest)

Background section

Greitas the Cunning, Vadas of the Gaisras clan and Didyis Vadas of the goblins of Wolf Forest rode forwards through the dappled light of the central part of the forest atop his direwolf, Issaukti. Goblin and wolf were accompanied by Sekme, great diplomat of the Priezastis tribe atop his own direwolf, as well as the three riders Greitas counted amongst his personal guard, two she-goblins and one he-goblin. They were not the fiercest warriors, nor the most well armed, although capable and well equipped warriors to be sure, but rather the three goblins Greitas trusted most. They were goblins he had known for most his life, and in whom he felt he could trust with his life. Where other kings may field forces hundreds or thousands strong as their guard, Greitas instead chose only these three to ride with him. “If you do not know the name, struggles and and story of the one guarding you, how can you know he will truly serve to guard you?” he had said, when advised by Sekme to incorporate more into his guard. “I trust Astri, Dovana and Pagirti because I have known them since childhood. We have faced the same struggles, walked the same paths together, bled the same blood. If you cannot say that of your guards, how can you truly trust them?”

Indeed Sekme counted some 30 amongst his guard, of which some 5 had rode a little ahead, scouting for danger, some 5 behind watching for any who might be following, and 10 riding out on each flank, watching for ambushes. It was a wise move if you expected an ambushing host to sweep down upon you, but to Greitas it seemed also to simply increase the number of those who may betray you.

Svajonių Urvas was a well hidden gathering place, so well hidden in fact that few goblins even knew of its location. A handful from each clan, amongst the leaders and the elders knew of its location, as well as the great shamans of Varna, and the Silent Ones, the goblin guardians of the cave.

Cresting a wooded hill, Greitas said to Sekme “we are in the boundaries now, soon we shall arrive at the cave”.

Sekme, who had never visited the cave, looked surprised. “How can you tell?” he asked, “I see no boundary markers”.

Greitas pointed upwards. Above them, in a tree looking down, was a small goblin with a bow strung with a poison tipped arrow, looking down at them as the came forward. The bow was not pointed at them, but it was clear that with swift precision his arrow could strike a heart.

Greitas smiled a crooked smile at Sekme. “The Silent Ones are named so for a reason, but there is also a reason that are not called the scentless ones”. He tapped his nose and winked.

“Der Vilkai Sieve, nes gretai jie bus seriami” he said, lifting up his left fist to the sentry.

The sentry nodded, and motioned them to continue.

Soon they came to a denser amount of thick undergrowth, the thick trees and undergrowth impeding their passage. Somewhere near, the sound of a small waterfall came clear. Dismounting, Greitas told one of his three, Pagirti, to wait and to tell Sekme’s guard to wait for them here. Greitas led them on, leading Issaukti behind him. They pushed through the undergrowth, unable to help but make sound as they did so, but soon arrived on the other side.

A small cascade from a small stream fell down from the overhang, hammering down on some slippery rocks out in front of the cave. The water sounded like hardened arrows crashing into rock, and where an eternal drumbeat all around. A few goblin apprentice shaman, young she-goblins and he-goblins alike, sat collecting some of the water in pots, to be boiled and used. Several Silent ones sat perched on their ledges by the rocks, bows at the ready, eyes attentive.

“Kumstis ira stiprensnis, nei ranka” said Greitas, lifting up his right fist. The goblins nodded. The four carried on forward into the cave.

In all honesty it has not all that deep a cave, a circular affair about the circumference of your average windmill, with a great pillar in the centre. It had been worn into its shape by millennia of wind, water and ice, and had slowly become the most scared site of the goblins of Wolf Forest. Inside in the walls the shaman painted the great dreams, the mystical visions they gained during their wild dances, hallucinating on wild herbs, driven on by the beat of the drum.

A campfire was burning out in front, and the other four clan leaders sat around it on stones, roasting a rabbit. Behind each, their great direwolves lay on their haunches, in various states of hunger or sleep. The clan leaders made no attempt to rise to meet the newcomers, but simply nodded at their approach. One of the direwolves rose however, and went to sniff the direwolves of the newcomers. Astri and Dovana nodded at Greitas and moved away. This was a meeting for the clan leaders alone, and Sekme’s inclusion itself was unorthodox enough as it was anyway.

Clan Leaders section

Greitas went and kissed the eldest clan leader, Grandmother Uoga of the Varna, on the cheek. The ancient goblin shaman patted him gently on the hand, and motioned that he sit.

It is often said that the personality of the direwolf and that of the goblin that sits astride it are linked, with the one reflecting the other. This is far from a universal rule, with a sombre rider sometimes pairing with an excitable wolf, or a foolhardy rider with a cautious wolf, although their natures often rub off on one another. The saying seemed to hold true here however.

Grandmother Uoga’s wolf was an ancient slow beast, its black fur turned as much a mess of white and grey as Uoga’s long hair. It lay contentedly behind her, dozing gently, its huge head on its heavy paws. They had been at this game for some three decades, long before Greitas had ever been a contender in the goblin hierarchy. The Vadas of the Varna clan were chosen by the shamans of the clan as the individual best able to listen to and interpret the will of Varna and the other Gods.

The wolf of Mother Daryiti, Vadas of the Žama clan, was a smaller beast than most of the others with flecks of white and grey in its brown fur sat where it was, but sniffed the air cautiously, watching the newcomers with slight suspicion. It, much like its owner, was the only one aside from Grandmother Uoga and her wolf to survive Greitas’s rise to power. The Vadas of the numerically largest but most peaceable clan had bided her time, seen which way the balance of power went, and had acquiesced to Greitas’s rule without a fight once the outcome was clear. The Vadas of the Žama clan were chosen by popular acclimation of the people of the clan. Male and female, young and old, they gathered and shouted out “YES!” or “NO!” as the candidates took there places. No campaiging took place. The candidates made no speeches. Yet amongst this clan, it was so often the one who had made the most friends, sitting for hours foraging for berries in the brush, or helped pul load up the stag to take it home for the feast that one. Not so often the warlike candidate who was known only for his temper and ability to kill well.

The wolf of Akmuo the Savage, Vadas of the Įniršis clan, was a big and fiercesome beast of greyish white. It had a large jaw, and eyed the roasting rabbit hungrily. The clan chose its leader through strength of arms, and after Greitas had tricked and murdered Galingas, its former Vadas, and brought the mighty clan to heel, Akmuo had proven his worth by defeating every challenger who came against him, killing three in the process and causing many more to yield. One challenger, it was said, he had beaten to death with his fists alone.

The wolf of Speniai the Venomous, Vadas of the Gyvatė, was the curious wolf, getting up to sniff at Issaukti. It was a bright eyed and fairly young direwolf, its brown and black marked fur covering an athletic and lighter build. But despite its youth and smaller size, there was a dangerousness about it that could not be ignored. Its eyes carried a playful and yet sharp and precise ruthlessness about them. After the former Vadas of the Gyvatė had been assassinated by a warrior assassin sent by Galingas, the clan had needed a new ruler. The Wise Snake did things a little differently. Each contender had a fortnight to prepare their finest poisons and antidotes. They could put as many as the wanted on their blades, and could strap and many antidotes to themselves as they wished. Then, when the fortnight was up, they fought one another, one by one, slashing at one another with knives until the opponent yielded or fell dead. Here the key was not only the skill to prepare a master poison, but to prepare an antidote for what your opponents would use against you as well. The finest poison makers of the clan had come together to test their craft, and in amongst them had come Speniai, a young she-goblin of just 16, an unknown who had been told to go home. She had trounced them all, dancing and leaping away from their slashes and to deliver a single scratch from her short dagger. The poison tipped on the blade was a fiendish concoction that took greater effect the more you moved, pumping faster through your bloodstream the more you panicked, leaving masters on the ground, begging for an antidote after their own failed. She gave it to them, leaving them panting and in her thrall. All but the final challenger that is, who had refused to give in, who kept on slashing at her, his slashes wilder and wilder, until he collapsed to the ground, writhing and frothing from the mouth. It turned out afterwards that she had concocted only the simplest antidote aside from her own to neutralise her own poison. simply counting on her speed and poison to avoid the other’s blades.

And finally there was Issaukti herself, the direwolf mount of Greitas. Not the biggest, strongest, toughest, fastest or even necessarily the brightest direwolf, and certainly not the handsomest, Issaukti made up for her general averageness through her sheer ruthless cunning. She was the runt of her litter, a suiting match for the 13 year old Greitas, raised up from being a lowly child to the rank of an advisor by Vadas Tevas, for a simple yet genius plan involving the humans. Pushed away from her mother’s milk by her bigger siblings, the little runt crawled all the way around to her mother’s face, and licked it. The licking alone was enough the mother to move, whether out of sympathy or frustration, moving away from all the rest, and right to where the runt was. The runt would latch on and suckle away, now getting first choice, and no amount of pulling at it and nipping at it would get it off. Greitas had asked for it then, the unwanted of the litter. Later, when it was big enough to be taken and for bonding to begin, he found out that it had been turning the larger pups against one another, nipping at their tails while the ate and ducking away when they turned to fight one another, sneaking in the grab some morsels with the rest while the largest two fought. How the lowly goblin on his runt mount had come to be Vadas of the Gaisras clan, let alone Didyis Vadas of the goblins of Wolf Forest, was a tail that few knew the full and truthful version of, and that was just the way Greitas liked it.

Greitas took a seat on the final rock, around the fire, leaving Sekme to stand slightly uncomfortably, watching the clan leaders.

“How doe the rabbit look Akmuo?” he asked.

The largest of the five poked at it with his knife. “Ready to eat” he declared.

“Good” said Greitas. “Whose is this feast?” he asked.

“Mine” declared Speniai.

“I hope you didn’t use your poison arrows on it” joked Greitas.

“Nothing too deadly, and the fire should cook it off, but let me know if you feel a string” said the young Speniai with a playful grin. She carefully removed the cooked rabbit on its stick from the fire, and took the first big bite. She made to pass it to Greitas, but her redirected her to Uoga. As the youngest and newest Vadas, her mistake was understandable. Uoga took a big bite and gave it to Daryiti, who took a big bite and gave it to Greitas, who took a big bite before giving it to Akmuo. Akmuo tore off a large chunk with his large teeth and handed it back to Speniai, who tore off a bit and gave it to Sekme before giving the remains to Uoga.

Stratergy section

Greitas spoke first. “My brothers and sisters, I have gathered us here under the protection of Vadas Uoga to discuss our plan for the four seasons to come”. He turned to Grandmother Uoga. “Grandmother, what does Varna say of what is to come?”

The old lady put down the rabbit carcass for a moment. Wiping her greasy hands on her old deerskin clothes, she pulled out a bag, shook it, and poured the contents in front of her onto the cave floor. The old bones, a raven skull and a deer skull scattered upon the ground, but amongst them a large live cockroach, red speckles on his black back. Uoga gave out a gasp and nearly fell off her seat, and Daryiti looked at it is shock. Akmuo stood up fiercely and as the cockroach tried to scurry away he crushed it underfoot.

“A premonition” said Uoga with a gasp. “The time of the evil one is close at hand. Already it comes toward us”.

Greitas looked on it shock, but regained his composure. “What of the other signs?” he asked.

“The bones tell of a time of war” she said, poking at them. “And of one of conflict, but also of opportunity”, she said, pointing to the position of the upwards facing deer skull to the bones. “A time of alliances is here” she noted, pointing to the closely positioned raven skull. “Unity is needed”. Looking up she said, “my diviners have noticed the path of the red star. A time of fire and blood is to come. The sky is clear on the matter. With the latest sign, it may be the final evil time, when the chaotic one himself will return”.

Greitas nodded. “Then we must prepare and act accordingly. With both focus, and caution. The growth season is upon us, and the animals are returning. Our wolves are hungry and we must feed them, lest they starve in the cold season to come. Akmuo, you must prepare the hunters to range north through the forest and on the plains near the forests to bring in a good hunt. You are to avoid confrontation with the dwarves so much as possible, and we will honour our old dealings with the frontiersmen. Let us avoid raids until we have a better sense of the way forward, and until the storehouse of the farmers have enough to be worth raiding”.

Akmuo looked a little disappointed, but nodded nonetheless.

“Daryiti, you command the greatest host. You shall help the hunters to hunt within our range, and shall oversee the foraging efforts. How does the season look?”

“The season looks bountiful, we will gather what we can from our position on the river valley, and push into the hidden glades. We should be able to gather and store enough before the cold season comes to avoid the starvations, but the seasons can be unpredictable”.

Greitas nodded. “Speniai, you will prepare as many great poisons as possible with your host and the aid of the masters. Poison for the hunt but also for war. If it is to come we must be ready to rain death upon those who would destroy us”.

Speniai nodded. “I will ensure we mark clearly which is which, we don’t want too poisonous food and too little poisoned enemies” she said with a grin.

Greitas turned to look at the squashed remains of the cockroach. “If the evil one is truly upon us, then alliances must be made. We cannot face him alone. This is an evil all life must face, for all life is threatened by it. We must unite against it or else risk destruction. That is why I have invited Sekme here today, against tradition”.

The other four clan leaders looked up at the diplomat, most with interest, but Akmuo with disdain.

“Our contacts have brought reports of a realm known as the Free Republic of Shai Tialle. This land apparently freed its slaves when the evil ones first came, and they are now ruled by a half-giant half orc by the name of Morog Tii. They apparently have some 50 000 soldiers, depending on the reports we get, and field the power to burn their enemies with controlled fire. Such an ally could prove invaluable if indeed the evil one is to return”.

He turned to the diplomat. “Sekme, you will ride for this realm with your guard, under the diplomatic banner of the white sheepskin. You will with you a young diviner, to confer with the holy ones of this land, and to tell them and their leaders of the signs they have seen. You shall seek plans for a trade agreement. The fire weapons of this realm shall be traded with the poisons of ours. If possible, and alliance shall be made. We must stand together, us enemies of slavery, against the evil one and his coming”.

Sekme nodded. “It shall be done, I shall not fail you”.

“Good” said Greitas, “fire will be essential in the war to come. We cannot rely on such an alliance alone to secure ourselves against this threat. Who is your most hardened diplomat with skill in the Elven and Imprial tongue?”

“That would be Rytas” said Sekme, a look of slight distaste coming over his face, “although I am not sure of his capabilities”.

Greitas smirked at the comment. Competition to be head diplomat was fiercer than one might think, and cutthroat, sometimes literally. The head diplomat could not rest easy in his or her position, and always faced threats from below.

“Then Rytas and a host will head south across the tundra to the snow pines of the Kingdom at the South under the sheepskin banner of peace, and seek out this Kalisto Anzharas. If our diplomats can reach this realm, they are to propose the sharing of information between our two nations, and to propose the potential of an alliance against the storm to come. The Southlings fought the monsters before, and from what I hear they have the command of quite a few monsters as well. They could prove vital in the war to come. The south is a hard place however, and perhaps the time will come when they are in need of meat from our hunting grounds. Such an alliance could be beneficial for us both”.

“It shall be done” said Sekme, with a bow.

“We will also send our contacts to the human frontiersmen who border our forest. Let them know that our old deal remains. If they ally with us we shall share our hunting grounds with them, and will help escort their trade through our forest, in return for tribute and word from the outside world. Should they refuse, well, we can’t promise their safety”.

Akmuo snickered at the comments, cracking his long fingers menacingly.

“And now the final point of business. The dwarves to the north in Kal'Erundir have long been enemies of our kind. Inside their mighty fortress and halls they are unassailable, but outside of those might halls they are more vulnerable, due to their lack of skirmishers and fast cavalry. Old enemies or not however, if the evil one is truly coming, perhaps it is time we set our old animosities aside and spoke of the potential of an alliance”.

The other clan leaders looked shocked, even Sekme looked surprised.

“You cannot mean that?” said Akmuo, incredulous at the suggesting. The dwarf-things have slain thousands of our cave goblin kin, and even now look down on us. They must be destroyed!”

“How?” asked Greitas simply. “We could march our entire army on their mountain fortress, and we could leave our entire force dead on the field. We cannot breach their gates with mere tree battering rams, and our wolves are not designed for their underground tunnels. No, the dwarves cannot be defeated, and so we must convince them to join us. If the evil one is truly to return, then he will need more than just fast riders and skirmishers. We will allies who can hold the line while our forces bleed our enemy white”.

“Why would the dwarf-things ever join us though?” asked Daryiti, who at least seemed more open to the idea.

“Inside their walls they command great riches, and they can sustain themselves for a long siege, but you cannot eat gold, and they must come out from time to time to at the very least trade for food with their human allies. If the great evil is to return, it will mean there outside food sources will be devastated, and they will struggle against not only those within, but also against starvation itself. We, on the other hand, can help secure the outside. Keep the forests clear of dangers so that they can ensure they have enough food to survive the dark times. We offer them food security”.

“In return for what?” asked Daryiti. Greitas smiled.

“Steel weapons. Fine dwarven spears and arrows to wield in our hunts and against our foes. Small steel plates to top our wooden shields, the unmatched craft of the dwarves, in goblin hands. Food security for steel”.

“But why turn on our kin?” demanded Akmuo fiercely, “why not ally with our goblins brothers in the mountain fighting the dwarves?”

“The cave goblins have gone mad with their lust for gold” replied Greitas simply. “They forget that it serves no purpose. You cannot eat it, you cannot make good weapons with it, it is worthless. They will go on fighting that war forever, trying to seize a substance that will do them no good. Even if they do defeat the dwarves, they would likely simply replace them, and hide away in the mountains with their new stash of useless gold, waiting to starve or die when the evil one comes. No, we must try to reason with the dwarves, if not to form an alliance then at least to cease hostilities, and allow us to focus our attention on preparing to face the evil one”.

“I will not fight alongside the dwarf filth!” sat Akmuo, rising to his feet angrily, his direwolf rising as well.

“If I command it, then you will, or I will destroy you as I did your predecessor” said Greitas calmly. “Do not make the mistake of thinking you are irreplaceable Akmuo. I could have killed you the moment you replaced Galingas. I could have killed you when I massacred him and his host that night. Instead I decided not to, I decided to let you live. Do you know why? Because if we kill everyone we quarrel with, there will be no one left to fight when the evil one comes. Do not think he will be so easy to defeat as that cockroach. No, when he comes, we will need everything we have, and as many allies as we can muster. Now sit down”.

Akmuo glared at Greitas, and made no motion to sit. Grandmother Uoga pulled at his arm. “Sit down young one” she said impatiently. “What Greitas says is true. We may even need dwarves to help us fight when the evil one returns”.

Still looking angry, Akmuo sat. He knew better than to quarrel with Grandmother Uoga.

“Kal'Erundir lies in the mountains north of Shi Tialle" noted Greitas. "Sekme, how fluent are you in the Dwarven tongue?” he asked.

“Fluent enough” said the diplomat "I have negotiated with some of the frontier dwarves in the north, and picked it up from there".

“Good, then it is settled. Once you have concluded meeting with this Morog Tii, you will go north from there and talk with the Dwarves of Kal'Erundir. Even if an alliance is not made possible, we should ensure a promise of non-aggression at least”

“Very well my Vadas” said the diplomat.

“Come”, said Greitas, standing now, “let us toast to our good fortune”. The five vadas rose and produced their wooden bowls, and a good portion of drąsa was poured into each. The sour smelling fermented direwolf milk was a delicacy, and one said to inspire courage in its drinkers.

“To our future” said Greitas, “and to the destruction of the evil one”.

“To the destruction of the evil one” echoed the other four, before they all drank deeply.

“Oh and Sekme” said Greitas, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“Yes my Vadas?”

“Should Rytas die on his journey to the Southlings, and should you have any hand in it, I will personally pluck your eyes from your head, remove your tongue and make a cup from your skull”.

“Yes my Vadas” replied Sekme again, his face betraying nothing.

[Hallimas Islands]

The Basilean Embassy

Horns rang once more in the Mountains and Forests. The echoes of new visitors entering our lands had reached the High King. It was men clad in layered armour, glistening in the sun. These watch-tower dwarves had never seen such grandeur outside of the Mountains. They didn't think others actually remained... Civilised. The embassy marched through the forests down an Alcenian road, now under re-construction by the Dwarves - supported by the High King of course. As they made their way through construction sites and overgrown paths, it was clear that the Dwarves had claimed this land as theirs and planned to use the infrastructure to show it.

The embassy made its way to the gate of Haldomor-Khal. Newly finished, it was almost as good as before. Haldomor-Khal's gate was one that was mocked at by the other Mountains, it was known to be very austere compared to the others. The new gate kept that austere feeling, but had an added 'strength' to it, etched upon the gate was the great feats of the Suthar-Khal Dwarves and specifically, the first King of Haldomor-Khal, the namesake - Halmar Haldomor Khalmar. It is said he came from born of the mountain. There was little gold encrusting, as before, but it could definetly match any other gate in Alcenia.

High King Thukrar looked from his balcony to see an embassy of these new peoples. He compared them to the Röken folk, much more glamorous and shiny, he thought. The High King disappeared from the balcony and rushed to the entrance. He opened the gate and was followed by an entourage consisting of the High Chamberlain of Haldomor-Khal and ten of the High King's Guard.
He wore a crimson cape and had furs on his shoulders. His clothes consisted of mail, with a surcoat depicting the banner of the Fifteen-Peaks. His ruby eye stared rather ominously at the embassy but he gave a bow and announced, "Hail, ye newcomers. I welcome thee to the High Kingdom of the Suthar-Khals or Southern Mountains. I am the ruler of these lands, High King Thukrar of Haldomor-Khal... This mountain. What business do you have here, sirs?"

OOC: paging Dragos Bee

[Dragos Bee]

The Basilean Embassy

Horns rang once more in the Mountains and Forests. The echoes of new visitors entering our lands had reached the High King. It was men clad in layered armour, glistening in the sun. These watch-tower dwarves had never seen such grandeur outside of the Mountains. They didn't think others actually remained... Civilised. The embassy marched through the forests down an Alcenian road, now under re-construction by the Dwarves - supported by the High King of course. As they made their way through construction sites and overgrown paths, it was clear that the Dwarves had claimed this land as theirs and planned to use the infrastructure to show it.

The embassy made its way to the gate of Haldomor-Khal. Newly finished, it was almost as good as before. Haldomor-Khal's gate was one that was mocked at by the other Mountains, it was known to be very austere compared to the others. The new gate kept that austere feeling, but had an added 'strength' to it, etched upon the gate was the great feats of the Suthar-Khal Dwarves and specifically, the first King of Haldomor-Khal, the namesake - Halmar Haldomor Khalmar. It is said he came from born of the mountain. There was little gold encrusting, as before, but it could definetly match any other gate in Alcenia.

High King Thukrar looked from his balcony to see an embassy of these new peoples. He compared them to the Röken folk, much more glamorous and shiny, he thought. The High King disappeared from the balcony and rushed to the entrance. He opened the gate and was followed by an entourage consisting of the High Chamberlain of Haldomor-Khal and ten of the High King's Guard.

He wore a crimson cape and had furs on his shoulders. His clothes consisted of mail, with a surcoat depicting the banner of the Fifteen-Peaks. His ruby eye stared rather ominously at the embassy but he gave a bow and announced, "Hail, ye newcomers. I welcome thee to the High Kingdom of the Suthar-Khals or Southern Mountains. I am the ruler of these lands, High King Thukrar of Haldomor-Khal... This mountain. What business do you have here, sirs?"

The Embassy and escort halted so that the latter can open up its ranks to allow a young woman, 24 years of age, clad in a long gown of green silk, to get down from one of the carriages that along with the wagons carried the convoy's gifts. She then gave a long, reverent bow to the High King, before she ordered her escort to lower their arms and sheath them to signal non-hostility. The woman, clearly someone of high importance, would then say, in a clear, calm, and melodious tone:

"Greetings, in the name of The One Above All Thrones Forever. My name is Princess-Ambassador Judith, from the Basilea of the Eldest God. We have maintained the valleys and plains below your mountains in preperation for your coming, and now that you have returned to the surface world, wish to bring gifts such as would delight those who have been kept out of the sun's light." And, with a gesture, she gestured to the rest of the embassy; ladies-in-waiting, aides and clerks, as well as her chaplain, to present themselves and the rich gifts the Basilea had.

The first was a line of silk-and-fur garments, studded with pearls and dyed Imperial Purple by mollusks; courtesy of the Basilea having a sea-coast. Each was cut to Dwarven proportions, and contained no gold, silver or gems so as not to insult thier hosts by giving them products that they can produce themselves.

The second was several jars of fine wine, with Judith explaining each vintage. There was red wine, white wine, and pink, although as the jars were fully closed, the Dwarves only had Judith's explanation to rely on. This was followed by several boxes of medicinal herbs, which Judith said had beneficial effects for both Dwarves and Humans. Then came the foodstuffs, wheat and barley and dried fruits and almonds and pistachios.

The Princess-Ambassador would then speak again, "Our people used to be friends during the yoke of the Alcenians, bound together by mutual interests and similarities in our ways. We wish it to be so once more."

[Jhet]

Argentumurbem
The Black Library

They prayed to She-That-Gifts, those men of the Black Palace. On bent knee they whispered "The Horror-That-Cries." With closed eyes they gushed "The Delight-That-Laughs." Splayed arms welcomed the embrace of Arru, she who they cried out as being "The One-And-All." And in reply, the chamber filled with her name. "The One," their god said through the contorted mouths of a thousand painted corpses. "The All," stone pillars adorned with her symbol echoed. The One. The All. The One. The All.

Kerecacpa tore open the robes he wore. Pearls dropped from where they had hung on the lapel of his fine silk, falling to the floor with a heavy clang. Rising to his feet, Her Magnificence's Sword let his voice fall silent, though his jaw continued to recite the holy text. He felt the cold air touch his skin, too cold to have come from the spring air of the Freyan. Uranish appeared before him, a dagger in her hand. The blade glowed, though whether by firelight or the power imbued within its ebony heart not a mortal soul could say.

There was a great hiss, like that of a sudden gale.

Kerecacpa had grown a red smile upon his chest, weeping rich wine upon olive skin. Yet where others would have recoiled at the sight, or let out words of anguish at the sharp pain, the Councillor merely nodded. At the signal Uranish reached out her hand. With a care that was at odds with her grotesque figure, the female Ferrato pressed her fingers in Kerecacpa's new smile, opening the shallow wound with the care of a farmer appraising his cattle. The Councillor let his mouth fill with voice again, calling upon Arru with all of his brimming ambitions as Uranish withdrew her fingers. They were stained with the rich nectar of the man's essence right down to the final knuckle.

To his left and to his right, Kerecacpa's fellow councilors also bore weeping smiles. Their voices too rose in a crescendo, matching the movements of their partner Ferrato as they finalised the ritual. Uranish and her sisters retreated towards a a chalice of rough iron, illuminated by fires of green and blue. Their bloody fingers traced the inscriptions on the inside of the cup, letting one man's blood and then the other mix until it was all one. As the final drop of blood fell, silence befell the chamber. The sisters poured a grey broth into the chalice, stirring it into the blood with a soft whispering.

Uranish was the first to drink, slurping at the potion with all of the passion of lovers being reunited after a lifetime of separation. The Councillors remained silent as the sister Ferratos consumed the contents of the chalice, tongues long and dry lashing out to get at the last dregs trapped by the indecipherable runes within. One heartbeat swiftly followed the next, as the voices of five hundred and twenty devoted followers of Her Unending Vice chanted breathlessly. With excruciating delay, the sisters finally returned to their human partners, flat feet sending out strong ripples through the water beneath their tread. Broad smiles revealed teeth no human could grow.

"She heard you," one informed them, as giddy as a maiden.

"She is not happy."

"She wants you to act," a third continued. "As you promised her."

"Promised her a child," Uranish reminded them with a voice unsuited to human speech.

"Ten thousand children," one corrected.

"All of their blood."

"Blood," the four whispered in unison.

"Blood."

Argentumurbem
The Silver City

Sanaz fidgeted on her throne. It was too big for her, too cold. The stone ended in severe edges, almost sharp to the touch of her soft hands. Again, for what felt like the hundredth time, she thought about asking for a pillow. However, like the ninety-nine times before, the little girl did not open her mouth. She was here to see Her Eternal Magnificence, and a sore bum was a small price to pay for such an honour.

Ahriman stood beside her, though he did not seem to acknowledge her presence. Instead he was in deep conversation with a gaggle of men, their robes of rich burgundy and turquoise. The orphan tried not to listen in. Even if she had tried she knew that picking out one word among fifteen hissed by one man to the others would be the best that she could. Instead she busied herself with thinking of her speech.

Her Magnificence's Speaker had stayed by her side the entire day, encouraging her as strangers poked and prodded her. They made her bathe in a bath that could have fitted a hundred people. After the scalding wash mute women dragged her into a room filled with clothes. Sanaz had been forced to try on a hundred different dresses, each one more extravagant than the next. "Her Magnificence wants you to be happy today," Ahriman had promised when she tried to escape the clutches of her dressers. "And you looking your best will make her happy."

So they had poked and prodded her for hours, smearing some coloured paste on her face and dripping a clear liquid into her eyes until she was close to tears. At last they had brought her into the vast cavern that was what the Speaker told her was the waiting room. And here she was made to wait, sitting on a throne of hard stone with nothing to do.

Finally Ahriman broke free from his companions, turning to speak with his young charge. "Are you thirsty?"

Not really. "Yes, Ahriman."

He did not smile like he used to. Instead his lips seemed to disappear as he tilted his head. A servant appeared, chalice in hand. Inside was what she took to be wine, though it seemed to be thicker than what she had seen others drinking. Ahriman nodded, and she took a sip. It had an aftertaste like metal.

"You need to drink it all," the Speaker informed her, placing a hand on the bottom of the cup so that she would not remove it from her lips.

The girl drank it all, realising with a measure of satisfaction that there had not been much of it to begin with. Her compliance seemed to make Ahriman happy, in that sad way he got.

"Begin," he informed someone off to the side.

Trumpets began to sound. Trumpets that she only heard for a heartbeat.

"Ahriman!" she tried to scream, but the words died in her throat, choked out of her by a thousand grasping hands. She could feel her heart in her head, pounding against her skull even as her chest fell silent. For a moment she tried to stand, to signal for help. But darkness took her vision, and a burning fire turned her limbs to ash before she could move.

The Black Council watched with eyes glazed with understanding as the terrified girl clad in thick velvet endured a second of She-Who-Gifts' blessing. But then, just as with the thousand children before her, the terror was replaced with ease. The potion had taken hold. With practiced ease, the palace guards pushed open the false wall that separated the podium from the outside world. As the light of day finally streamed in, a crowd fashioned itself before them.

"Her Eternal Magnificence Haura bint Leila al Vadesh!" Ahriman announced, the words taken up by the masses.

The cheering carried on, and on, and on. It was like a storm-stricken ocean, churning the waves into a frenzy.

When it finally came to silence, the girl that had been Sanaz spoke the words of a lurking power. "My loyal children! You have been given love and you have been given happiness. You have enjoyed a blessing only the Frey enjoy. But Arru must grow. Arru must expand. All people must enjoy the joy I have gifted to you." The people held onto her every word, repeating them verbatim like a holy chant. "The Frey of the north have long endured hardship. Hardship that they did not deserve. We will save them, from the beasts that once plagued this land, and the false gods they hold in their hearts!"

"Arru!"

"Arru!"

"Arru!"

[Hallimas Islands]

The Basilean Embassy

Horns rang once more in the Mountains and Forests. The echoes of new visitors entering our lands had reached the High King. It was men clad in layered armour, glistening in the sun. These watch-tower dwarves had never seen such grandeur outside of the Mountains. They didn't think others actually remained... Civilised. The embassy marched through the forests down an Alcenian road, now under re-construction by the Dwarves - supported by the High King of course. As they made their way through construction sites and overgrown paths, it was clear that the Dwarves had claimed this land as theirs and planned to use the infrastructure to show it.

The embassy made its way to the gate of Haldomor-Khal. Newly finished, it was almost as good as before. Haldomor-Khal's gate was one that was mocked at by the other Mountains, it was known to be very austere compared to the others. The new gate kept that austere feeling, but had an added 'strength' to it, etched upon the gate was the great feats of the Suthar-Khal Dwarves and specifically, the first King of Haldomor-Khal, the namesake - Halmar Haldomor Khalmar. It is said he came from born of the mountain. There was little gold encrusting, as before, but it could definetly match any other gate in Alcenia.

High King Thukrar looked from his balcony to see an embassy of these new peoples. He compared them to the Röken folk, much more glamorous and shiny, he thought. The High King disappeared from the balcony and rushed to the entrance. He opened the gate and was followed by an entourage consisting of the High Chamberlain of Haldomor-Khal and ten of the High King's Guard.

He wore a crimson cape and had furs on his shoulders. His clothes consisted of mail, with a surcoat depicting the banner of the Fifteen-Peaks. His ruby eye stared rather ominously at the embassy but he gave a bow and announced, "Hail, ye newcomers. I welcome thee to the High Kingdom of the Suthar-Khals or Southern Mountains. I am the ruler of these lands, High King Thukrar of Haldomor-Khal... This mountain. What business do you have here, sirs?"

The Embassy and escort halted so that the latter can open up its ranks to allow a young woman, 24 years of age, clad in a long gown of green silk, to get down from one of the carriages that along with the wagons carried the convoy's gifts. She then gave a long, reverent bow to the High King, before she ordered her escort to lower their arms and sheath them to signal non-hostility. The woman, clearly someone of high importance, would then say, in a clear, calm, and melodious tone:

"Greetings, in the name of The One Above All Thrones Forever. My name is Princess-Ambassador Judith, from the Basilea of the Eldest God. We have maintained the valleys and plains below your mountains in preperation for your coming, and now that you have returned to the surface world, wish to bring gifts such as would delight those who have been kept out of the sun's light." And, with a gesture, she gestured to the rest of the embassy; ladies-in-waiting, aides and clerks, as well as her chaplain, to present themselves and the rich gifts the Basilea had.

The first was a line of silk-and-fur garments, studded with pearls and dyed Imperial Purple by mollusks; courtesy of the Basilea having a sea-coast. Each was cut to Dwarven proportions, and contained no gold, silver or gems so as not to insult thier hosts by giving them products that they can produce themselves.

The second was several jars of fine wine, with Judith explaining each vintage. There was red wine, white wine, and pink, although as the jars were fully closed, the Dwarves only had Judith's explanation to rely on. This was followed by several boxes of medicinal herbs, which Judith said had beneficial effects for both Dwarves and Humans. Then came the foodstuffs, wheat and barley and dried fruits and almonds and pistachios.

The Princess-Ambassador would then speak again, "Our people used to be friends during the yoke of the Alcenians, bound together by mutual interests and similarities in our ways. We wish it to be so once more."

High King Thukrar smiled, "Indeed, thou art akin to the Gilden-Mahn... Oh, excuse me, Golden-Men, our word for the Imperials. We indeed do business with eachother. Damned shame what happened during those days."
The High Chamberlain held in his hands a scroll and was given a bag of gold. He handed the scroll to Thukrar and he studied it carefully. He closed it and spoke once more, "Yes, now I see... We certainly do have similiarities. Thou art the... Basilea, was it? Well, I welcome you fondly to Haldomor-Khal."

The High Chamberlain then gave the bag of gold to an emissary and retrieved the gifts, placed them in glass containers then said, "A token of our friendship," he then signalled for the Great Gates to open. Dusty cogs rumbled and screeched, it was the first time in decades or centuries that these old cogs had moved. It was a terrible noise but the Chamberlain and the High King revelled in it. As the ancient pulleys and cogs pulled apart the gate, it revealed Haldomor-Khal for the first time. No other civilisation had seen it. The Fifteen Peaks. It was beautiful... Stone buildings lined the streets, Dwarves and Dwarflings playing and swimming in the springs to the far right. To your left, they would see mines, delving deep into the mountain core. The hard work of dwarves hauling diamonds and gold and riches to the top level. Down the Main Street, the road went up a hill in the centre and that is where the palace lay. Gilded and shining from torches and lights, it was large, it was about one kilometre wide and had a large golden dome with grey walls. Etched with Dwarven designs intricately placed to tell a story. A horn rang through the Halls. The Dwarves stopped and went to the Main Road to see the visitors.

The High King stood before them and began to walk. The High Chamberlain told the embassy to follow, he whispered, "We shall talk more in the palace," the Dwarves were amazed to see man again. The Elder Dwarves would tell stories of their grandfathers describing man. As the children point and stare at these gilded-folk. While the educated smile smugly, turning back to their scopes to look back at the world. Crowds appeared down the road, the High King's Guard formed a shield but the Dwarves moved harmlessly out of the way. They bowed before their High King. While they were walking and showing off man to Haldomor-Khal, Thukrar told his Chamberlain to assemble a council with the Low Kings and the Clergy, so they may meet our first allies. The Chamberlain sprinted off and horns rang through the mountains. They approached the palace.

[Kaledoria]

High King Thukrar stood proudly on the re-opened entrance to the Fifteen Peaks. His Command asked for all Mountains to be opened, however, foreigners would only be permitted in Haldomor-Khal, as of now. The Orderlands of Röken were the closest of the Foreign Nations... Aside from those cat-folk but no news came from them, Thukrar had some sort of disliking towards them but tolerated them to an extent. His Dwarves were busy building the new Feast Hall right outside the Mountain Gate, leading to Haldomor-Khal Proper. Horns blew through the valley. Watchmen had caught sight of a small convoy going through the Borderlands between us and the Röken. A small escort party, lead by the High King himself marched out to meet these visitors. Bearing gifts of gold and useless jewellry, in case they were unfriendly. The High King marched with his guard to intercept Friedrich and his Knight-Brothers. He met them on an old, overgrown Alcenian road leading its way to the Suthar-Khals.

Thukrar greeted them himself, his ruby eye glistening in the sunlight. He wore a red robe and carried and axe in his belt. He had the look of a hands-on King and bowed before the foreigners saying, in an old Alcenian dialect, "Hail, ye newcomers. I bid thee welcome and good tidings in our lands, the lands of the Grimmr, the lands of the Dwarves. I would like to escort thee to my abode, for I am the High King of the Suthar-Khals and would most certainly like to form a well bond between our two nation."

Arch-Grandmaster Heinrich bowed before the High King and as he did, the men in his company followed his example. "I'm honored, your royal highness," Heinrich replied in the same language, "I'm Sir Heinrich, Arch-Grandmaster of the Orderlands." He continued to introduce his men, a mixed back, picked to represent the people of his nation: Besides him and the Dwarf Durhard von Kärnten, there were 6 humans, an Elf, a Half-Orc, a Centaur, a Catfolk and a Satyr. Heinrich also mentioned, that one of the Humans was a mage-kight and the Satry was a Pan-sorcerer (although the later was rater obvious given the pelts, the large runestaff and the pan-flute hanging from his belt), while the others were just introduced as knights, with no respect to whether they were ordinary sword-brothers, Headmasters or Ordermasters. Curiously, they were not accompanied by any further servants.

Heinrich looked at the Gifts offered by the Dwarven Kingdom and was obviously uneasy. "Thank you," he said picking up an especially finely crafted piece of jewelry, "it is not considered appropriate for knights to openly carry such displays of wealth but unless it offends you, I would like to bring this home and give it to my wife, she'd be the proudest woman in Felsheim." He ran to their selection of gifts and after skimming through it took a rather large book from it. "And I would like this to be the first I can give you in return, a book of history, of my lands and their greatest figures. I have more literature in pack of poetic nature but this one was gleaned by the most renown Sages of Röken and the surrounding lands to be most accurate."

[Hallimas Islands]

High King Thukrar stood proudly on the re-opened entrance to the Fifteen Peaks. His Command asked for all Mountains to be opened, however, foreigners would only be permitted in Haldomor-Khal, as of now. The Orderlands of Röken were the closest of the Foreign Nations... Aside from those cat-folk but no news came from them, Thukrar had some sort of disliking towards them but tolerated them to an extent. His Dwarves were busy building the new Feast Hall right outside the Mountain Gate, leading to Haldomor-Khal Proper. Horns blew through the valley. Watchmen had caught sight of a small convoy going through the Borderlands between us and the Röken. A small escort party, lead by the High King himself marched out to meet these visitors. Bearing gifts of gold and useless jewellry, in case they were unfriendly. The High King marched with his guard to intercept Friedrich and his Knight-Brothers. He met them on an old, overgrown Alcenian road leading its way to the Suthar-Khals.

Thukrar greeted them himself, his ruby eye glistening in the sunlight. He wore a red robe and carried and axe in his belt. He had the look of a hands-on King and bowed before the foreigners saying, in an old Alcenian dialect, "Hail, ye newcomers. I bid thee welcome and good tidings in our lands, the lands of the Grimmr, the lands of the Dwarves. I would like to escort thee to my abode, for I am the High King of the Suthar-Khals and would most certainly like to form a well bond between our two nation."

Arch-Grandmaster Heinrich bowed before the High King and as he did, the men in his company followed his example. "I'm honored, your royal highness," Heinrich replied in the same language, "I'm Sir Heinrich, Arch-Grandmaster of the Orderlands." He continued to introduce his men, a mixed back, picked to represent the people of his nation: Besides him and the Dwarf Durhard von Kärnten, there were 6 humans, an Elf, a Half-Orc, a Centaur, a Catfolk and a Satyr. Heinrich also mentioned, that one of the Humans was a mage-kight and the Satry was a Pan-sorcerer (although the later was rater obvious given the pelts, the large runestaff and the pan-flute hanging from his belt), while the others were just introduced as knights, with no respect to whether they were ordinary sword-brothers, Headmasters or Ordermasters. Curiously, they were not accompanied by any further servants.

Heinrich looked at the Gifts offered by the Dwarven Kingdom and was obviously uneasy. "Thank you," he said picking up an especially finely crafted piece of jewelry, "it is not considered appropriate for knights to openly carry such displays of wealth but unless it offends you, I would like to bring this home and give it to my wife, she'd be the proudest woman in Felsheim." He ran to their selection of gifts and after skimming through it took a rather large book from it. "And I would like this to be the first I can give you in return, a book of history, of my lands and their greatest figures. I have more literature in pack of poetic nature but this one was gleaned by the most renown Sages of Röken and the surrounding lands to be most accurate."

Thukrar looked surprised, "We have never seen such austerity given by a foreign nation. I applaud thee. We would most certainly like to have you keep our gifts, however, we do not mind if you would like to give them back. Hm... Grandmaster Heinrich, I see you keep a Dwarf in your company. May I speak with him?" Thukrar asked, looking curiously at the assortment of races before him. His entourage was equally curious and studied the emissaries carefully. Meanwhile, Dwarves behind began work on the Alcenian road, taking small peaks at these new visitors. Showing off Dwarven skill, they cleared out the road efficiently as the two groups conversed.

[Dragos Bee]

Basilea to Suthr-Khal and Roken

Princess-Ambassador Judith followed the Dwarves into the hall along with several aides and ladies; the escort had to be left behind to prevent the carrying of arms into their allies' territory. One of her aides accepted the bag of gold offered, allowing Judith enough time to gaze in wonder at the beautiful carvings and the golden dome of the Palace of Haldomor-Khal. All the while, she looked at the Roken-Knights; the Basilea had been uncertain what to think of the Orderlands, but decided in the end that they were good people despite their...quirks.

As she waited for the meeting, the young lady would come over to Arch-Grandmaster Heinrich's side and say, "Greetings to the Arch-Grandmaster of the Orderlands of Roken. I see that tales of the Knights' honor and temperance have not been exaggerated. You are truly honorable."

[Ralnis]

4 years ago,
Road of Gruloga,
Enderbright

For months, the glowing Road of Gruloga was painted in blood as the globin hordes had manage to breach the stone walls of Enderbright. The greenskins expected to loot the riches of the Undercity of Cats, but didn't expect to meet a horde of equal number that was reinforced with the foul magics and strong steel as their battles came between the use of cunning and attrition. The goblins had an early advantage as Dociles, while equal in number, where without them breaking before the bloodthirsty cave dwellers. It was then that the goblins met the Tribals, whose stronger frame and better skill turned the tide.

Led by the White Fur Yon-Sur, she led the attack with her beasts and corpse-eating warband against the tied and slayed the goblin chieftain, sending the tide away and the Matron gave chase through the tunnels, fighting their way through Goblin tribes and extending the Road of Gruloga and she was tasked with staying off the tide as they grow their numbers to replenish and expand their city.

Tower Pillar,
Present Day

The White Furs gathered and climbed the long steps of the Towers carved out of the large columns that connect the topside and their immense city. Matrons in the hundreds from the large Coats had made their presence known to the adept Two-Eyed who led with a powerful and blessed magic and guidance. Her eyes see both the mortal plane and the spirit world blessed by the Jokai to see the ethereal energies of mana that grow and fade to the world.

As they bowed in her presence, she turned away from the window that oversaw the largest city in the continent as her staff carried a minotaur lord's head on the top adorned with magical ornaments. She walked on her hindlegs as she threw a magical spell in the center and a pool of ooze came up from it and smoke filled the room.

" The harvest was good and the Cave Greenskins have been running away as Longbeards not say anything topside. On the topside, the beastfolk have been getting less organized and moved away from Tribal lands, this must be a lie as the law of the Westernwood will always test Iniki."

Adiki showed an image of a dwarven city. It was hazy but it had old Imperial regalia on it's walls and master smith that made golems and other war machines.

" Rumors spoke of the ancient city of Kal'Jurnmeir has made way to our whiskers. Such a undercity was famous for its great warmachines and riches. However the glorious city has been lost after the Age of Woe. We must find this city and capture it. It's caverns must be used to build a colony to exploit the lost knowledge of the Longbeards for our use of gaining more land and fertile farms for our population. Send Matron Yon-Sur. Success means colonies, failure means death."

Another image had shown the Knights of Roken.

" Next we must send a convoy to the south. The Knights of Roken are neighbors a bit and the Tall Greenskins are as much of a threat as beastfolk. Longbeards are already there but we can send a White Fur to make case of alliance. Go know and make our case known.

[Spindle]

Tunnels
Mount Kel'urithier
Shi Tialle

Nearid nudged the whiskered body with a toe, crossbow held and ready. There was no response, and she relaxed for a moment before the body surged to life in a burst of terrifying speed. Before it could make it off of the ground a crossbow bolt appeared in its throat, sending it crashing back down to the ground. It squealed madly for a moment, wormlike tail thrashing madly as it clawed at the wooden bolt before its struggles weakened and died. Nearid grunted, glancing over at Illinis as the elf stabbed her own body in the throat, a thin line of blood trickling out to join the puddle on the floor.

"Persistent bastards, ain't they?" Nearid grinned, "Think a dragonsbreath in their nest would cure them of it?"

"If you could do that without getting us all killed, I'd be impressed." Illinis growled, "You ready to push on?"

Nearid ambled over to a wall and pulled out a stick of charcoal, drawing an arrow onto the wall in the direction they were heading.

"Let's go." She agreed, grin still plastered to her face, "We've got a while before we can make camp."

"Lady Luck willing."

Nearid's grin only widened at that.

"Lady Luck's never willing. That's why we've got munitions."

"If you attempt to use them in these tunnels, so I swear you won't even arrive at Melthis' Gate."

"I bet'cha I can blow the Gate open."

Illinis sighed at that, half-raising her crossbow and cocking her head towards the one tunnel leading out of the small chamber.

"Whenever you're prepared."

"Always prepared, that's me."

The two of them advanced into the darkness once more. Claws scraping on stone echoed back into the chamber from the tunnel ahead, then the heavy twang of crossbow bolts, then screams and silence once more. It was going to be a long day's march.

---

Gatehouse
Nuruth Tialle
Shi Tialle

Sereth had seen plenty of weird things in his time. The thelai had fought the Ku'llinaas with their spirit-warriors, the Neker giants and every manner of beastie from spineworms to avlanchers. Eventually, he'd built up the connections to get himself transferred to garrison duty, where the likelihood of him getting killed was close to nil, and had quite happily spent the past year dealing with nothing more dangerous than the occasional drunkard. It was a situation he was perfectly fine with, and one which he was starting to suspect had ended as he watched the fangwolves pad towards him. And the goblins bob up and down on top of the fangwolves.

He had seen plenty of weird things in his time, but he'd never seen goblins riding fangwolves before. Hells below, he'd never seen anything riding fangwolves before.

Of course, they were holding up a sheepskin banner. That was probably there to reassure them of peaceful intent, he would guess, but that didn't stop his squad from bristling as Sereth stepped forwards to stop them. They were, he noted absently, wearing what appeared closer to skins than actual clothing, which meant they probably weren't Tialle goblins. Something in the back of his mind noted that, had Tialle goblins been able to tame fangwolves, they wouldn't be relying on the Trassi for their cavalry. For a moment his hand fluttered towards his sword, before he decided against it. Even if the wolves didn't rip him apart before he had the chance to draw it, he was too close to the goblins. He'd be hit with a munition meant for them before he could do anything. It wasn't a comforting thought, he reflected, but that was what he got for trying to dodge Melthis' arrow out on the front.

"Hold!" He commanded with more authority than he felt, the Imperial feeling thick and unwieldy on his tongue, "Who goes there, and what burden carries you to Nuruth Tialle?"

He could feel the lead wolf's breath on his face as it eyed him up. There was far too much intelligence in its eyes, Sereth decided. He'd never seen a fangwolf look amused before, but this one was certainly giving him that impression. He wasn't sure he was in favour of that. He wasn't sure he was in favour of any part of this situation.

Three Thrones, let this go well. He pleaded silently, I don't want to die like this.

[New Socialist South Africa]

Gatehouse, Nuruth Taille, Shi Tialle

Sekme dismounted from his direwolf calmly, and extended his hands in a gesture of peace. "Greetings" he said in clear but heavily accented Imeprial with a broad smile, with sharp teeth on display. Gesturing in the exaggerated style of goblin diplomats he stated, "I am Sekme, Great Diplomat of the Priezastis tribe. I am an emissary of Greitas the Cunning, Vadas of the Gaisras clan, Didyis Vadas of the goblins of Wolf Forest. I have ridden for many leagues to meet with the great Morog Tii. We have heard of his power, and that of your great nation, and seek good terms, trade and an alliance against the coming of the evil one".

"What is your name warrior?" he asked. "And where might we find the great Morog Tii to talk with him?"

...

Laužas, Wolf Forest

Greitas had returned back to the main camp of the Gaisras clan, Laužas. Nestled in-between two high heavily wooded hills, with a small stream flowing through the middle, it was said that it was here where the trickster God to which the clan proclaimed its loyalty had first brought the stolen fire, bringing it to warm his goblin offspring. This was the place Greitas had called home ever since the clan's former Vadas, Tėvas the Collector, had lifted up the young orphan, impressed by his simple solution on how to get more food and weaponry from the frontiersmen.

"Lets just ask them for it, promise them safe hunting in the woods in return, and kill them and take it if they refuse" the eight year old Greitas had suggested simply.

Allowing humans into the forests without a challenge had long been considered sacrilege, viewing them as destroyers who would chop down all the trees, hunt all the deer and kill the sacred direwolves. The frontiersmen were good only for raiding, stealing their food and supplies, bringing their villages, and fleeing back into the forest with the loot once the heavy knights and mounted men-at-arms came riding out to fight the goblin raiders on the open field.

But the relationship between the commoner frontiersmen and their noble overlords was a strained one. The nobles expected taxes in return for protecting the commoners, and to fund the construction of their own castles and better lifestyles, not to mention their wars and squabbles with one another. They didn't allow the commoners to hunt deer and other large game on the land, viewing that as a purely noble pursuit. Like the Imperial nobility they had succeeded, they viewed the common frontiersmen as backward and beneath them. And the few times they dared to ride into the forests to chase after the raiding goblins, they vanished, never to be seen again, their swords and shields reappearing in goblin hands, their skulls adorning the huts and tents of goblin warriors.

The simple idea had changed all that. Soon many of the frontiersmen trusted and worked more closely with the goblins of the Gaisras clan than they did their own human overlords. They hunted deer alongside goblins and shared in their feasts, and slowly over time, they came to view the forests as a place of bounty rather than of fear. In return they brought the goblins news from the outside world, bread and ale for the feasts to be had with the goblin's venison, drąsa and berries. But more importantly than that, they brought the goblins a reliable supply of steel. Steel that could then be used to hunt game, and steel that could be used to give the clan the edge over their rival goblin clans.

Of course the frontiersmen could refuse to work with the goblins, but those who did had a nasty habit of vanishing in the night, their farms or villages turned to ash, the knights and riders usually arriving to late, finding only death and crackling fires, the bodies dragged away to be fed to the hungry direwolves.

Greitas sat out by the campfire, several local commanders and his three guards sitting with him, along with some well trusted human frontiersmen allies from the villages on the edge of the forest. A parchment map of the known world, with some locations of major known cities and nations on it. The map had been a trade with a traveling merchant, along with some of his fantastic grog, in return for his safe passage through the forest. Far from complete or up to date, it was nonetheless the most detailed map of the world any forest goblin had possessed in centuries, if not ever.

"It is unclear where exactly the evil one will come from" Greitas was saying. "Grandmother Uoga suggested that there were signs in the sky of his coming, and given his wings he could indeed come from there, but where we will land is unclear. The last time the demons came, it was from the west however". He pointed to the western part of the map.

"There it is noted there are cat-humans of some sort, who according to the reports from the merchants somehow held off the demons the last time around. Perhaps we should send an emissary west to go meet with these cat-humans, and see if they could be allies in the war to come".

"What about the Dwarves of the Fifteen Peaks?" asked Ehrahm, a human hunter who had known Greitas and the clan for two decades, "they say they have reappeared up in the north in the southern mountains, offering a great feast to all who come. It is said they sealed their great gates for longer than any of those left alive can tell. They say that the Baron intends to ride for the Dwarven hold himself with a small host, seek to trade barley for whatever riches lie within. Our barley too, and for jewels and gold to adorn his own hands and that of his vain new wife. He's a nightmare I tell you".

Greitas looked intrigued, but more by the tale of the mountain than off the ambitious Baron and his planned trade deal. "And where exactly would these mysterious dwarves be?" he asked, looking down at the map.

"Oh I'm not really sure" said Ehrahm, coming over and scrutinising the map with care. He had seen it quite a few times, and had helped to come understand the map and to work it out alongside the goblins.

"It says here the South Mountains" he said, pointing to the area of the map that did indeed mark the south mountains, "and I did hear tell that the Baron had ridden west from his castle, so it will probably be somewhere around there. The map maker must just not have known about it, seeing as it isn't on here".

"Indeed" said Greitas, further intrigued. "Then it is settled"

He turned to a goblin messenger. "Send word to the Priezastis tribe that we are going to need to stretch their numbers to the limits. Send their best remaining diplomat skilled in as many tongues as possible west under the sheep skin banner. They will meet with these cat-humans, learn more about them and speak with them of an alliance against the evil one. Have a diviner go with to share the knowledge of the evil one with them. Send our best remaining diplomat with skill in the dwarven tongue to find these fifteen peaks and meet with them. Take with a gift of smoked venison and drąsa. We shall suggest good terms, pave to way for an alliance against the evil one. A trade route would be far too long and far to unsafe to cross that far reliably".

"Yes Vadas" said the messenger, and he was swiftly away on his direwolf.

It would take a while longer for this goblin diplomat to find and reach the Fifteen Peaks that it would its closest neighbours, but the speed of the direwolf should help the emissary arrive fairly swiftly.

[Kaledoria]

Thukrar looked surprised, "We have never seen such austerity given by a foreign nation. I applaud thee. We would most certainly like to have you keep our gifts, however, we do not mind if you would like to give them back. Hm... Grandmaster Heinrich, I see you keep a Dwarf in your company. May I speak with him?" Thukrar asked, looking curiously at the assortment of races before him. His entourage was equally curious and studied the emissaries carefully. Meanwhile, Dwarves behind began work on the Alcenian road, taking small peaks at these new visitors. Showing off Dwarven skill, they cleared out the road efficiently as the two groups conversed.

"Humility is a necessary virtue," Heinrich explained. "My soldiers would never follow a perfumed noble from the wealthy plains into battle, one who drinks from a cup that could buy you a serviceable sword and who has never had to sleep on the ground in his gambeson during a forced march." He was relieved by the Dwarf's attitude towards gifting. He signaled the other dwarfs, that they should pack the other gifts, with the exception of the one he had already picked, as well as the rest his men had in stock. The gifts from Röken were of much lesser value, with the exception of the books, that were rather hard to come by in this part of the continent.

Heinrich gestured Sir Durhard to come near and then withdrew himself to allow the Dwarfs a private conversation. Right at this moment, he was approached by a woman. From the heraldry, he could tell she was from Suthr-Khal but he could not identify her personally. Since she did not have herself introduced by servants, Heinrich guessed her to be from the lower landed nobility. "Milady Ambassador," he said with a bow, "you flatter me. I have yet to prove my honor but given the rumors from south of the sea, I fear, that there will be plenty of opportunity. The tribes are restless and all they need is one powerful leader to unite them and our realms will have a big problem. This invitation by the Dwarfs comes at an opportune time, as we need to discuss a defensive pact."

---

"It's an honor," Sir Durhard said to Thukrar. "Who would have believed, I would come to visit Haldomor-Khal one day and even speak to it's sovereign! I have so many questions - but I guess, you want to speak to me, so you have questions yourself."

[Dragos Bee]

Thukrar looked surprised, "We have never seen such austerity given by a foreign nation. I applaud thee. We would most certainly like to have you keep our gifts, however, we do not mind if you would like to give them back. Hm... Grandmaster Heinrich, I see you keep a Dwarf in your company. May I speak with him?" Thukrar asked, looking curiously at the assortment of races before him. His entourage was equally curious and studied the emissaries carefully. Meanwhile, Dwarves behind began work on the Alcenian road, taking small peaks at these new visitors. Showing off Dwarven skill, they cleared out the road efficiently as the two groups conversed.

"Humility is a necessary virtue," Heinrich explained. "My soldiers would never follow a perfumed noble from the wealthy plains into battle, one who drinks from a cup that could buy you a serviceable sword and who has never had to sleep on the ground in his gambeson during a forced march." He was relieved by the Dwarf's attitude towards gifting. He signaled the other dwarfs, that they should pack the other gifts, with the exception of the one he had already picked, as well as the rest his men had in stock. The gifts from Röken were of much lesser value, with the exception of the books, that were rather hard to come by in this part of the continent.

Heinrich gestured Sir Durhard to come near and then withdrew himself to allow the Dwarfs a private conversation. Right at this moment, he was approached by a woman. From the heraldry, he could tell she was from Suthr-Khal but he could not identify her personally. Since she did not have herself introduced by servants, Heinrich guessed her to be from the lower landed nobility. "Milady Ambassador," he said with a bow, "you flatter me. I have yet to prove my honor but given the rumors from south of the sea, I fear, that there will be plenty of opportunity. The tribes are restless and all they need is one powerful leader to unite them and our realms will have a big problem. This invitation by the Dwarfs comes at an opportune time, as we need to discuss a defensive pact."

The Basilea

Princess-Ambassador Judith allowed Heinrich to retain his wrong assumption, es[ecially as he was now speaking of defensive pacts. A nod, and she would say, "Indeed; the Orcs and Beast-Folk are increasing in number to the south, frustrating efforts at further deforestation of the Westerwood. Our armies can take them for now, but we also face the necessity of maintaining a fleet against assault from the Imperial Remnants further east. So a pact between us, the Suthur-Khal's, and my Basilea would be a great boon."

She curtsied. "Forgive me for my lack of etiquette; I was over-eager to compliment you. My name is Princess-Ambassador Judith of the Basilea of the Eldest God, niece of the Basileus ton Basileon."

[New Socialist South Africa]

Kingdom of Zathrak

Rytas, diplomat of the Forest Goblins and Emissary of Greitas the cunning, arrived with his small force of nine bodyguard riders and one rider carrying the white sheepskin banner of peace at the realm of the snowy pines. They were accompanied by Vizija, a young she-goblin diviner of 18, who had watched the skies and helped to see of the red star, and of the coming of the time of blood and fire. He and his riders made steadily for the town where they had heard they could meet with King Kalisto Anzharas, and asked the few they met who they found along the way of where they could find him. Soon, they hoped they could meet and talk with this King of the Snowy Pines.