Sekai (Fantasy NES): The Third Age Begins

In the Northern Territories of Malthen (das) (L-22)

A large garrison was beginning to appear in the forested territories north of Malthen. Forward outposts had been established and security was somewhat tight, but still gave merchants and citizens of the towns that had already existed there adequate breathing room. Fein II was not a tyrant, and his efforts to show this were considerable. Dawn was on its way and many of the soldiers began to switch their patrol outfits, while others that had been on duty since morning went back to camp to sleep. At nightfall, a cool breeze could be felt and the sky was clear, stars twinkling and a bright moon reaching over the tree tops. It was indeed a gorgeous night, and many soldiers were at ease, smoking their tobacco and telling stories about their various encounters with Venetian women.

A higher ranked official was doing the rounds and told them to stay alert. Scouts have reported some sort of uncharted village north of these territories. Whether it was any sort of danger, had yet to be seen. As the night went on and the trees swayed in a gentle wind, the soldiers still telling stories, a man on horseback rode through the checkpoints and was stopped by the guards. He was a man wearing a full black cloak. His face could barely be seen. He did not have any sinister feel to him, in fact, he was quite polite to the guards. The guards asked him the round of questions they ask anyone that passes by. "What are you doing in this area?" "Where are you from?" "Any rumors about the land?"

It became known that this man was some sort of nobility from a town not far, located in the new Malthen territories. He explained to the guards that his town was overjoyed to now, finally, be ruled and protected by Malthen. He put his hood down and revealed an average-looking man, very skinny in the face though and with extremely intense eyes and dark features. He smiled at the guards and told them that he was riding through this outpost because the area had always served as a nice short cut to get to his lakeside cottage to the west. "I have been working on building a small cottage at the edge of Kaeros Lake (the larger body of water northwest of Malthen)."

"As for rumors," he said. "I have one." The man explained that northwest of this outpost was a school of druids. This town is not far from the village that the man is from. He explained to the guards that these druids have not caused any harm to the surrounding areas, but that sometimes they go into his town (in L-22) to purchase goods. He explained that the people in his quaint village do not understand the ways of druids. Druids are rumored to be an odd assortment of cult-like religious maniacs and visionaries. "My people are afraid of them, even though they have not done anything to us yet, I often fear that they might. Especially now that the town they usually buy supplies from is owned by Malthen. There are constantly rumors floating around my village that the head druid of that university northwest of here is somewhat perturbed by the recent acquisition of land that Malthen has been conducting. Ever since these rumors began, my people have been frightened and are attempting to arm themselves into a small militia, just in case the unthinkable may occur."

With that, the guards let the man pass, thanking him for his information and his time. The man put his hood back over his head and rode off westward. The wind continued to blow gently, and chuckles could still be heard from soldiers on the outpost walls.

I assume that the druids are at hex K-21, then?

And yes, Ragnar should stop sleeping on the duty and get on with that mission I gave him.

---

Third Week Turn Orders:

Malthen Kingdom/das
Capital: Ost-Letha (N-21)
Race: Half-Elf
Economy: 6315 economy
Reinvestment: 1835 gold
Growth Rate: 5%
Hexes: L-22, N-20, N-21, M-21, M-20, O-20, O-21
Improvements:
- 1-level road, Spell Library in N-21
- 1-level road in O-21
- 1-level road in M-20
Troops:
- 300 infantry, 100 archers, 30 mages at N-21
- 200 infantry, 100 archers, 10 mages at L-22
Technology: Magick, Transportation, Trading
Spells: Fireball
Maintenance: 1140 gold
Build:
- 1-level road in N-20 (100 gold)
- 1-level road in L-22 (100 gold)
- 1-level road in M-21 (100 gold)
- 1-level road in O-20 (100 gold)
- Marketplace in N-21 (700 gold)
Train: 20 mages for 240 gold
Research:
- Technology: Worship (800 gold)
- Spell: Sprint (1200 gold) (are we allowed to research movement spells right from the start?)
Advantage: +1 Mage Attack

kkmo said:

Awaiting Quest Reponses (I will post an update once I get story responses for these pending quests.)
Selot and the Giant Spiders.
Ichthys and his group, and what he is doing with the lizardmen.
Ragnar after his run-in with orcs and his injuries.

Click to expand...

I'll stay and try to recover my wounds, I don't have the energy for a story as it is I will introduce myself with a letter to das when I am fully recovered.

EDIT: Also saw that das wanted me to recover, and I'm truly sorry, but I haven't had the time recently. I'll keep up tomorrow, I think.

Selot had just been passed by some calvalrymen who were doomed. He could tell them or not. Although he knew the right thing to do was to tell them, this might end in Shiva's rampage continuing. He pondered this. As he did, the words of the druids came back to him, something like giant spiders aren't supposed to be like this. He had heard of giant undead attacks somewhere in the east, were they connected? But he was off-topic and went back to the situation at hand. After much thinking, and with a slightly guilty gut, he decided the generals were best, and since he knew nothing about military, he decided to let them leave. After all, they would die for Afuria, a noble sacrifice.

Shiv the Eight-Legged's Lair, North of Afuria (mythmonster2)


Selot was approaching Shiv's lair in the mountains. He had killed a few large spiders and he had effectively traversed a large portion of the mountains undetected. He kept thinking how the soldiers he saw earlier were either already dead, or soon to be a giant spider's dinner. He feared for them, but he also thought it necessary in order to prevent further arachnid attacks on the villages to the south. Selot needed a well-earned rest, and a meal. He sat on a rock and opened up his sack, pulling from it dried meat, bread, and water. He cherished this meal, as if it could be his last. He was sweating from all of the climbing, but he was in excellent shape, and in good condition despite the conditions. Selot finished his meal, stood up, and stretched for a moment. It was getting darker outside.

Selot began climbing once more and came a few yards from where he ate to a medium-sized spider web in which several giant spiders were hanging. He quickly sliced through them, and out from them came smaller spiders. He hated when this happened. After quickly dispatching these spiders, he felt a rumble beneath his feet, as if the mountains were soon to be torn apart by a great earthquake. Selot prepared himself. He looked in every direction. After about three minutes of attempting to find the source of the disturbance, he looked up, and on the side of the mountain was Shiv the Eight-Legged.

Her sheer size was incredible. She was massive, at least a hundred times larger than the spiders Selot had been fighting. She hissed and her movements were quick. Selot raised his sword up as she quickly trounced down the side of the mountain to confront the warrior. Her many eyes gazed into Selot's two. They stood like this, staring at each other, for some time. Selot was extremely frightened. He had never seen anything like this, and he began to second-guess his skills as a warrior. Shiv's movements were almost too quick. It jabbed one of its feet over in Selot's direction. Selot dodged and hit the leg, but not really damaging it. Shiv's two fangs dangled from her body and moved from right to left, drool coming from its mouth.

Shiv hissed and leaped forward with all of its strength. Selot dodged, and attempted to stab the beast in her belly. His sword was deflected by one of her legs. Selot rolled from underneath her after having been knocked on the ground from the sheer force of her approach. She turned around and hissed some more and launched her fangs forward. Again, Selot narrowly dodged, and attempted a hit, this time landing one on the belly, but nothing too severe for Shiv. This angered the Eight-Legged.

Selot put himself into a defense stance and wiped the sweat from his face. Here she comes again. She launched her body forward and Selot barely escaped the full-frontal attack, but his side was gouged by one of her legs. All eight of her legs were covered with barbs and were pointed at the edges. Selot was in grave danger. His side was bleeding all over the place and his mind was racing. The pain was excruciating and Selot began to feel dizzy. He was losing a lot of blood.

Shiv raced over to him, about to deliver a final blow, when a massive blue glow struck her eyes and filled the mountain valley that Selot had been traversing. The glow was incredible, stronger than any moonlight, and blinding Shiv. Shiv hissed and raced back up the mountain from where she came.

Effects

• Selot loses 2 hit points. Therefore, Selot currently only has 1 hit point.

OOC: Your hit points will be regained the next time I post for this quest, so don't worry. You post something next. I'll let you decide where the glow came from. You can plead ignorance and say you never found out what it was. Then, when I post a response to whatever you post, your hit points will be back to normal. You won't fail your first quest, don't worry.

OOC: Sorry for TIME TRAVEL TIME!

Trouble, it seemed, did not stray far from the path of the chaotic band. Though vaguely humanoid at first glance, the lizard-men had a ferociousness and inhumanity about them that was quickly betrayed: not only by their all-too-reptilian forms and crude and primal weaponry, but by the predatory air that they exhibited in their slow saunter towards the three individuals before them.¹ Their scales ranged from bright emeralds to dull and dark mossy greens, the latter perfect for lying in wait in wait by the swamps, the former indicative of good breeding and importance. Behind each was a tail that slowly trailed across the ground like a snake slithering as it stalked a hapless mouse. Their wickedly-curved claws were hanging limp on their side at rest, but the large and well-defined muscles just above those suggested that this was no hindrance—they could very well and easily bring them up for attack in less than a blink’s time. Their mouths were agape, through which they breathed heavily, exposing rows of deadly teeth. Some of them, particularly the larger ones, had some fangs missing: most of those that remained were large and rough, like sharpened flint stones, while their canines looked more like thin, curved daggers. Their thick, long legs were tense in their inching forward, yet the fine-but-firm curves giving the impression of power, a power that can easily be translated into a quick dash away from harm or, more likely, a frenzied lunge forward. Their brows—or, at least, the leathery and reptilian crests on top of their long heads—were crunched up. That, in combination with the way the skin around their eyes looked folded, was reminiscent of squinting, and perhaps they were—of course, only the lizard-men themselves know, and the very few sages who study and have studied these creatures have yet to answer beyond the what. The “whites” of their eyes were bright yellow orbs that seemed to glow—of course, these were not magical glows as dragons and other magical beasts have, only the reflection of the bright moonlight that filled the small clearing—only fading slightly when the creatures blinked with their clear, inner eyelids. These had specks and faint lines of black, with black, cat-like, vertical irises cutting through the middles, and in the middle of these were large pupils that were pointed straight at the orcs and the goblin, with an intensity that never faltered for a moment.

One of the eight lizard-men, athletic and lean with bright green scales, spoke loudly in his native tongue—a bastardized version of the ancient and noble draconic language. It was looking straight at the three—though, as far as they can tell, he was looking everywhere at once, because it was hard to make out exactly where those cat-like eyes were pointing at—and was indeed trying to make conversation. However, to his misfortune, none of the chaotic creatures understood him.

Gnash, holding his rough-looking greatsword with one hand, glanced sideways at Grimfist, who was holding a great, spiked club with one hand and a length of rope—made of braided humanoid hair, decorated with teeth and bits of bone and ripped flesh, and made unnerving with a small giant’s skull at one end and a what looked like a child’s on the other—and said, “Grim-tooth—”

“—FIST,” interrupted the savage priest, the focus of his darting eyes swaying failing him as he tried to grasp how unabatedly weak-minded his companion was. At the very least Gnash was good at taking orders, and that eased him ever so slightly.

“Fist-tooth,” said Gnash, nodding his head—Grimfist, at the same time, bared his jagged, yellow-and-black teeth. “You smart. What the lizard say?”

Though Grimfist took his time to study many a language—particularly those used by the masterminds of the undead hordes, the ancient version of orcish used by his predecessors in their records and writings on their evil god, as well as the language of the celestial beings—he had never bothered to study the language of the dragons. Instead of replying, however, he simply raised his macabre cord which began to vibrate ever so slightly as he began mumbling arcane words known only to the followers of Yurtrus.

“Gnash no understand,” said Gnash, scratching his head with a particularly chipped and dented portion of his greatsword. He looked pensive for a moment, then, with a sudden (though misguided) realization, blurted out, “No, what he say in words me know! You joke big time, Fist-tooth!”

Grimfist wasn’t listening, of course. He continued his quiet chanting. The lizard-man spoke again, this time with a tone of impatience that crossed the boundaries of language. He raised his arm, a lean limb attached to a threatening clawed hand, waving at the group.

“Skizz-mo,” said Gnash, hoping to get answers from the goblin. To his surprise—though a lot of things surprised Gnash, so that might not have been all that notable—the goblin had disappeared. “Skizz-mo?” Suddenly, one of the larger lizard-men fell to the ground with a trigger-happy goblin sitting on its back. Skizzmo stabbed at the monstrously large reptilian repeatedly, screaming curses in his high-pitched goblin voice.

In that same instant, Grimfist loosed a rippling blast of invisible force. The wave brought the pebbles and twigs strewn about with it, as well as knocking down three of the lizard-men. That prompted a quick and brutal retaliation from four of the others—as their powerful-looking legs had suggested, the lizard-men were indeed ready to lunge at the group at a moment’s notice. Seconds passed and soon both orcs were crushed under the weight of four fully-grown lizard-men.

Gnash tried to shake off two of the reptilians, only succeeding in getting a fresh wound across his face. Grimfist had lost hold of his club in the counter-attack, and though his orc body was strong, the lizard-men’s were stronger. The initial shock degenerated into a desperate wrestling match, with rolling and grappling becoming the staple for a few seconds.

“Gnash no like lizard-men,” said the orc warrior, his head turning a shade of purplish yellow as blood rushed into his undersized head. After a few more seconds of wrestling, a powerful “UMPH!” and a well-placed kick sent one of the lizard-men flying a few feet off. That gave him room to stab another with his sword, albeit at an oblique and non-fatal angle—however, that did succeed in loosening the lizard-man’s hold of him, and soon enough he was standing up and readying to charge at his assailants. He had additional worries though, as the two of the three lizard-men knocked down earlier were getting up and looked less than happy about being flung down hard onto the ground.

Just a couple of meters away, Skizzmo was carefully slicing off the scales, teeth, and claws of one of the lizard-man he just killed, with a precision comparable to a surgeon’s. He was going to sell it to wizards, or maybe to collectors, or maybe to saps as some cure for some disease he’ll make up—it didn’t matter much to him, so long as it made a quick buck.

“Heh, stupid lizard-folk sh’ know trouble when they seez it,” he mumbled to himself, quickly glancing from his business to the fight raging just a few stone’s throws away—Gnash was already swinging his sword wildly about, while Grimfist laid behind him, tending to his wounds with dark strange herbs and salves—readying himself for a quick run in case things got too messy near him.

Gnash was almost foaming at the mouth, his thick drool dripping as his greatsword cleaved one of the lizard-men’s skulls in half. His eyes were reddened, and blood was messily splattered across his body. This would be a good time to say that he had a murderous glint in his eyes, but it was more than murderousness—it was unbridled bloodlust. Gnash’s only concern at the moment was getting the edge of his blade into the skulls of the lizard-men, and he was doing a rather decent job of it.

Grimfist, having just been saved from a bad case of collapsed lung by the brutish Gnash stabbing and slashing wildly about, was rubbing a combination of herbs, roots, water, and blood across the gashes and bruises he had sustained, not wanting to trouble his deity with such minor wounds. After all, these were minor wounds, at least compared to what he had inflicted on himself on countless ritual lashings and cuttings to his god, and weren’t as painful by virtue of the thick layer of protective scars that criss-crossed his half-naked body.

Skizzmo, by the time they had felled about three of the eight lizard-men, was draining the blood off the larger one he had stabbed repeatedly. Suddenly, a raspy and almost ethereal voice called out to him, saying, “Leave the bones out. This one’s big and strong—useful attributes for a puppet skeleton.”

Swinging his head about, he saw the lich with a band of five skeletons, watching the messy business just a few feet beyond them.

¹ To avoid a break in what kkmo already wrote, the story assumes that you’ve read what he had written. In case you haven’t yet, the three are Grimfist, Gnash, and Skizzmo—Ichthys just came back from watch duty, which is a bit out-of-character for someone in his station within the group (but explained later anyway).
^* Yeah, I got lazy.

Effects

• Grimfist loses 3 hit points and Gnash loses 1 hit point. Grimfist will recover 1 hit point on June 28, another hit point on June 30, and his last hit point on July 2. Gnash will recover by June 28.
• The party gains a collective 9 experience points to be distributed in whichever way you seem fit.

Items Gained!

• The party (Skizzmo, but the items can be given to other party members) is in possession of: Lokish Scales, Lokish Claws, and Lokish Teeth.
• Lokish Scales (the scales are grouped as one item) provide +4 defense.
• Lokish Claws has two options of uses (the claws are grouped as one item):
  1. Sell them at a market in Dhuri, Amaliad and obtain +20 spending points.
  2. Take them to one of the Dark Elf druids in the druid tribes in hex K-10 (the territory northwest of Dhuri, still within the Amaliad kingdom). There you might learn more about its uses.
• Lokish Teeth serve no known purpose.

OOC: Excellent story.

To avoid a break in what kkmo already wrote, the story assumes that you’ve read what he had written. In case you haven’t yet, the three are Grimfist, Gnash, and Skizzmo—Ichthys just came back from watch duty, which is a bit out-of-character for someone in his station within the group (but explained later anyway).

Click to expand...

I think you misunderstood. They were taking turns taking watch, while the others were sleeping. It just so happened that during Ichthys's turn, he heard that noise, and went to check it out. I guess its your character, though, so I'm sorry if I posted something that doesn't seem out of character. I'm sure he probably would've just made Gnash keep watch all night or something.

You may now post Turn 4 orders.

• Turn Effects
  > Kingdoms may not expand their realm for the next 2 turns because of a greater demand for centralization.

• New Areas of Interest
  None.

• Recent Happenings
  > "Scimitar" Speaks to Malthen about Zalask's Warships
  > Kodo the Red, Part II
  > Attack of the Lokish Lizardmen, Part I
  > Xal'Amul War of Aggression, Part III
  > Orcish Raids Against Dorovel, Part II
  > The Shapeshifter, Part I
  > Xalas the Necromancer vs Kodo the Dragon, Part I
  > Venetia's Defiance
  > Druids of the Maedaray Steppes, Part I
  > Shiv the Eight-Legged, Part III
  > Attack of the Lokish Lizardmen, Part II

I squinted my eyes. I thought I saw a well, but well, I thought I had found water many times before, only to be disappointed. I don’t know if it was magic or a trick by a malevolent spirit, but I had wasted many precious days chasing the promised water. Seven days ago, or perhaps it was eight or nine as I had lost track, I had used up the last of my water. I do not know how many days, or perhaps by now it is measured in hours, I have left to live. Already, I can feel my body breaking down. My horse, Heleques, was moving in what was barely a shuffle. He will probably collapse soon. Then I will most certainly die, as I do not think I now have the strength to walk even a mile.

So, I turn towards what may or may not be a well. What else can I do? If it is an illusion, I am dead, but if I stay my course, I am dead. So I must reach out at the possibility of life, and pray to the gods above that my hands do not touch Death. At the very least, if asking for life is too much to ask, I would at least like to live long enough to escape this desert. I had seen too many of my companions turned into macabre puppets by him. I, at least, wish to escape that fate.

Now that is funny. Since when have I been looking at the sun? I turn my head and see and see a small jerboa staring back at me. I wonder how it survives in the desert, where it gets its water? I suppose it says something of my state when that is my first thought. I suppose it says even more that the thought “I’m no longer sitting on Heleques” didn’t come until the jerboa finally ran away.

I struggled into a sitting position, falling down twice before finally managing it. I saw Heleques a few meters away, sprawled on the ground. I can see his ribs rising and falling, so I know that he is still alive, though like me, that won’t last long. A third time I fall down, this time landing so that my face falls into the ground. Despite the piece of cloth I had over my mouth, sand still got in it. I wanted to spit the sand out, but couldn’t manage to build up enough saliva to do so.

So I began crawling instead. There really wasn’t any point to crawling now. But for some reason, I felt like if I was going to die, I at least wanted to die beside another living creature. There was no rational reason behind that thought, mostly for the reason that I do not think I am capable of rationality by now. I am slithering like a snake through the sand now. At first, I tried getting to my hands and knees, but the weight was too much. It was not because I was wearing armor, I had discarded that long ago, but because of the shield slung across my back. I suppose if I was thinking rationally, I would throw it away, but since I have already decided I am past rational thinking, there is no reason to act rationally either. Besides, despite the fact that there probably wasn’t anyone still living who would recognize the heraldry, the white rose crossed with a down-turned sword, it seemed an appropriate grave marker, as I would get no other.

I reach Heleques and lay my head against him, my head rising and falling with each labored breath he took. A part of me wanted desperately to close my eyes and fall asleep, but another part wanted, if I was to die, to look upon this world for as long as possible. So I compromised, and kept my eyes half closed, an action which was probably more effort than either of the other two possibilities.

I had almost decided to surrender to sleep when two blurry objects came into my line of sight. To my knowledge, in this place were only myself, my comrades, who were all dead, and them. A d**** shame. That meant that they had found me. I struggled to my feet, miraculously managing the feat. This changed everything. With there arrival, I no longer had the luxury of simply drifting off to sleep, never to wake again. No, I had to at least die with weapon in hand.

Of course, I had no weapon. At least, not on me personally. I looked down at Heleques heaving frame. Fortunately for me, when he fell, the side of the saddle my weapons hung from were on top. There were two such weapons, a sword, and a mace. Normally, I would have grabbed the sword, it had been a gift from a comrade I whose life I had once saved. Swords were weapons from my youth, the type of weapon that I first learned fighting with, the type that when in my hand moved almost on its own accord.

Unfortunately, the blade inside the sheath was shattered. So that left the mace. It was a good weapon, if a bit creepy. The head of the mace was shaped like a skull, with two rubies inset in its eyes. I had taken it off of one of them during the same fight that my sword shattered. Undoubtedly that meant that it was cursed, but when faced with immediate death, a curse didn’t sound so bad. It worked well in that fight, bones made satisfying crunching sounds when it hit. And it isn’t cursed…probably…maybe…I hope. The battle I acquired the mace was the last battle, the one I barely managed to escape as the sole survivor. Since then, I haven’t quite been in a state to perceive a curse.

So I picked up the mace. What does it matter now? If its cursed, if its not cursed, I am dying either way. At least now, I can die as a warrior, with a weapon in my hand. At my movements, one of the blurry figures stopped. Vaguely I heard something that sounded like words but my brain refused to recognize them as anything but sounds. There was a vaguely kind tone to them. A trick designed to make me let my guard down, no doubt. Though why they would need such a trick was beyond me. It is enough, I tire of this, just leave me alone. I lift up my mace, or try to, my arms seem not to want to follow my mind’s demands. Blackness tinges the fringes of my vision. So this is it. I try to think of something memorable to say for my last words.

“F***…”

OOC: I repeat: is the druid settlement at K-21?

IC:

Why was the Malthen Kingdom expanding after decades of stable borders?

In the Scroll of Saira the Diviner, it is written that nothing happens without a reason. Saira the Diviner saw reasons as seeds of the future that are inherent in the present, and that may be noticed by a careful and well-informed observer. Valianama Taliand, the newly-appointed Minister of Magic to King Fein II of the Malthen Kingdom, was of a different yet similar opinion, though he was yet to express it in any significant way as of the time of this narrative.

Had Saira the Diviner been at the royal palace in Ost-Letha in the middle of the third decade of the Third Age, he might have pointed firstly at the stars, which were aligned in such a way that predicted incoming turmoil and dictated reshuffling of cards and movement of armies, and then perhaps the prophet could also have mentioned, by the way of validation, that the population of the Malthen Kingdom's hinterlands was growing after decades of peace and prosperity that replaced the decades of barbarian invasions and terror, and that this necessitated the establishment of new colonies in nearby lands. But Saira the Diviner lived eight centuries ago, and so was unable to share his wisdom in such a direct manner. Still, the wise know that one does not need to use crude necromancy to communicate with the dead - all one needs is a document written by the deceased. In this regard if not in others, Valianama Taliand was wise, and, thanks to his recently deceased predecessor's masterful efforts at amassing an organised, unified "spell library" at the palace, possessed a copy of the prized Scroll; he heard out Saira the Diviner's arguments and refuted them, saying that while he knew little of the stars (both a truth and a lie), he did know that the population of the kingdom was not growing much more than previously, and that it certainly did not have any immediate need of new colonies. Saira the Diviner might have replied in this case that the merchants of Ost-Letha would have wanted to secure new trade routes, again as a result of prosperity; but the minister preempted such an argument immediately by agreeing that the stars were probably indeed aligned in the way described by the ancient sage, but that the reasons for all things went beyond even the stars and to the gods.

According to Valianama, nothing could happen without a reason, and the reason for anything that happens lies in the plans of gods and elfmen, or, more generally, those beings that were the closest to gods and so possessed some amount of divine free will. The gods had planned on turmoil and set the stars accordingly, in this way sending strange thoughts and ideas into the minds of those creatures of the world below that possessed minds. Those who were calm and content to live out in peace and immobility were disturbed and lost for guidance; those who were waiting saluted the stars and moved out to wreck havoc. Amongst the latter was General Celebfaer Lugiand, and his allies - Minister of the Army (a position created to replace the unreliable position of Chief General under Fein I) Tulca Doliand and Minister of the Colonies Luthgalu Rodiand, as well as some others in less prominent roles, and for several weeks those two ministers and their faction was unchallenged at the court, while Celebfaer marched across the lands. The main opposition, until recently, came from General Feardor Inoriyand and Minister of the Treasury Dinnu Romiand, all alleging overextension, all predicting financial and political difficulties and all mainly ignored in the shadow of Celebfaer's rapid advance up until recently, when their efforts to gather support in the urban senate paid off. On the other hand, perhaps the fact that Celebfaer himself was mostly satisfied with the actual expansion had more to do with the fact that the king had comissioned the creation of a new map of the kingdom, which would show the new permanent and inmutable borders, and ordered Luthgalu Rodiand to work with Minister of the Treasury Dinnu Romiand and First Senator Aglar Romiand on a new and improved colonial plan.

In either case, intrigues died down, but as the stars have not changed and Celebfaer remained Celebfaer, Valianama was quite certain that a year would not pass before the armies of elfmen are on the march yet again. That would not be such a bad thing in and of itself, if still quite unnecessary, but Valianama more or less belonged to the Romiand-Inoriyand faction. Therefore he was concerned with the facts that Celebfaer Lugiand was at the same time unpredictable and volatile and highly popular, that his soldiers were ever more loyal to him as distance between them and the capital increased, and that, in all due likelihood, Celebfaer was eventually going to either march upon the capital or march north where he could gain even more fame, glory, popularity and support along with untold riches and treasures - before inevitably returning to the capital, at which point something bad would likely transpire, as the stars did their best to underline. Thankfully, other people took it upon themselves to inform the king of all those considerations, because in all due honesty Valianama hated politics and politicking, despite also considering them to be quite necessary.

Such were the thoughts of Minister of Magic Valianama Taliand during the Audience of the Senators and the Audience of the Lieutenants, as well as the Ceremony of Peace and the belated, unplanned audience of the northern human representatives. This is not to say that he did not pay attention to those events as they transpired within the royal palace; he did, and he even offered his comments every now and then, though thankfully he was not strongly involved in any of those ceremonies. But he relegated them to a secondary place in his mind, judging them irrelevant and instead focusing on some thoughts that were bothering him since the last time he read the Scroll of Saira the Diviner, which was six days ago, that is to say on the same day as the previous Audience of the Senators that convinced the king to order the end of the first phase of the Expansion and the beginning of the second, which is consolidation, and also on the same day as the death of the previous minister and the elevation of his secretary and lukewarm pupil. He focused on those thoughts because he was bored and needed to pass the time, and also needed to clear his head before his private conversation with the young king, as previously arranged.

The king proclaimed in his well-trained, ceremonious yet excited youthful voice that he shall look after his human nephews and make sure that they co-exist in peace with his sons (the elfmen) in the kingdom's newly-reclaimed lands. The humans thanked, bowed and went away, and soon after the ceremonies ceased, the courtiers dispersed and the king himself sneaked out in the direction of the new library, which was where Valianama caught up with him. Both elfmen entered it, the tall Valianama easily towering over His Royal Majesty, who nonetheless did not seem to be at all discomforted by it. There was no one else in the library, though it probably did not matter.

"Well then, minister... what can you say about these merfolk I hear so often of?"

"Still not much more beyond what was said in the Book of Beasts, your royal majesty, although there are some interesting things in some of the sources in this library."

"Such as?"

"The merfolk were observed since the oldest times, and worshipped by tribes of coastal humans, who found them to be somehow beautiful. Personally I cannot agree, but the humans have strange aesthetics, and besides, the illustrations in the Book of Beasts are somewhat crude - alas, the merfolk always lived at some distance from the Lainiand even at its greatest expanse."

"They worshipped them?"

"Yes, as minor gods."

"Do the Venetians still practice this strange faith?"

"Those were primitive beliefs of wandering tribes. The paganism of modern humans is more complex, if sometimes even more silly than that of their progenitors. The Venetians, though... from what I have heard, the faith that they practice is somewhat different; naturally, they do recognise the gods, even though they, as all humans, barely have any proper understanding of good and evil, but most of all they worship the ocean?"

"The ocean?"

"Indeed, your royal majesty."

"What, all of it?"

"They worship the ocean as a greater entity that consists of everything within the ocean and is more than the sum of its parts, but they also worship every part, including the merfolk."

"That would explain their king's..." - Fein II searched for the right word.

"Lyrical digressions?" - offered Valianama.

"Lyrical digressions." - the king gladly accepted, with a nod - "About their beauty and their importance and how they, uh, produce corals." - the king clearly implied that the creation of corals was a somewhat obscene process, but then again, what else was one to assume? - "Do they really do that?"

"Some human sources point to that, yes."

"Why isn't it in the Book of Beasts?"

"Alas, that source does not include all the reports; but it is not quite canonical, so it might be updated."

"Updated? That is a splendid idea. I hereby comission you to update it using the information you have gathered from elsewhere. Not just about the merfolk; all kinds of information. We need it all in one place - both myself and all the future generations. Truly, it would be a worthy accomplishment."

"It would be an honour." - said Valianama, not showing any signs of his immense displeasure at having to rewrite the Book of Beasts, known amongst the scribes as the Book of a Myriad Pages and, even less formally, the Book of Infinite Suffering. While the scribes will, ofcourse, have to do all the work, Valianama's thirst for knowledge was not all that great and in any case was presently dictated at other sources. Which reminded him of his little private goal today.

"But, your royal majesty, I fear that I have not discovered all that much. There are some books that I have heard of which would greatly help, but, alas, they are not in the library."

"Truly? I find it strange - the Magister's library is nigh-infinite, and a book that is not in there might as well not exist. Ofcourse," - the king allowed himself a smile - "if our Magister has a vice, then it is excessive attachment to books. He did keep some particularly valuable ones, even though he donated most of the others in his generosity."

"Most curious. Your royal majesty, I have heard often of this Magister since I first arrived at the capital, but alas - I have never been able to meet him in person."

"How could you have failed to do so?" - the king was surprised, and his eyebrows flew up - "He is a truly wonderful elfman, more knowledgeable than anyone else in the world. But," - and he smiled again - "I suppose he is something of a recluse, and I keep forgetting that you are from the south and not from the capital. Ah, you simply must meet him; your predecessor was a close friend of the Magister."

"Yes, so I have heard..."

"You should accompany him when I pay him a... minor visit, tommorow, but do not tell anyone as he would not any fuss that would doubtless result."

"Why do you want to visit him?"

"Well, I wanted to ask him about those merfolk, and about Enlo."

"You are truly wise to seek knowledge from such a knowledgeable, yet generous man."

"Thank you. And you could ask him about those books you wanted as well."

"I will be sure to do so." - said Valianama.

"Very well, very well..." - replied the king, smiling broadly - "Well then! I would advise you to get to work on a new edition of the Book of Beasts. I must leave - there are some other matters attend to."

"It has been a honour talking to you here, your royal majesty." - bowed Valianama - "I will get to work at once."

As the king left, Valianama walked off and left the palace, humming to himself whilst pondering a new question - an enigma - the enigma of the Magister, that strange old robbed man who commanded the loyalty of every member of the government, except Valianama, whom he always made very, very uneasy. The stars were amiss, and something about the Magister seemed as if he were the one behind this.

Movement: the main part of Celebfaer's army shall remain at L-22, but three groups of 10 infantry each shall be detached as scouting parties. The first will move into K-21 and will be accompanied by a high-standing lieutenant of Celebfaer's, with a mission to establish peaceful contact with the druids and to avoid any sudden tensions (and also to covertly the assess the moods and the war-readiness of the locals). The second two will move into K-22, keeping close distance at first. They are to scout out the area and contact any locals. Both settled natives and wanderers are to be politely interrogated about anything of interest here and in the vicinity, and in particular about the northern dungeons/locations.

All groups shall maintain contact with Celebfaer via specially-trained pigeons.

OOC: Strategos, please post your starting stats in this thread, or tell me what you are. I have that you are a warrior, possibly human. That was a great story. And we are now on Turn 4, which means you can hand in 5 sets of orders with 10 spending points for spells/skills for each order. 5 because we had 1 preliminary turn.

Glotrith/Ninja Dude
Capital: Tutanbar (N6)
Race: Goblin
Economy: 3390
Reinvestment: 1260
Growth Rate: 6%
Hexes: O4 5 6 and 7. N5 6 and 7. M 5 and 6.
Improvements: Roads: N6 O3 O4 O5 Marketplace: N6
Troops: 300 Archers 275 infantry 20 Calvalry
Technology: Trading, Transportation, Magick
Spells/Skills: NONE
Build: nothing
Train: 500 infantry
Research: nothing
Advantage: +1 movement for infantry

Troop movement: 500 infantry to l5 from N6.

K5:300 archers, 275 infantry, 20 calvalry, and Kodo to J5

Looks like I will have so slow down so I can let those new recruits catch up.

Du Farthen az Kurlan/Charles Li
Capital: Du Farthen az Kurlan
Race: Dwarven
Economy: 715
Reinvestment: 45 (2.25)
Growth Rate: 5%
Hexes: K-6 Colony on J-6
Improvements: Wall K-6
Troops: 195 Infantry 100 Archers (395)
Technology: Construction
Spells/Skills: None
Build: Zip
Train: 10 Cavarly (Giant Goat riders) 5 Infantry
Research: Magiks
Advantage:Mobility

End Economy: 717 (440 upkeep)

Movement
100 Infantry 50 Archers at Tutanbar bove with army back to K-6.
80 Infantry 35 Archers Reach I-5
20 Infantry 15 Archers stay in K-6
Giant Mountain Goat Riders (Dwarven Calvary: Dwarves have Calvary yay!) to h-5 Ahead of Kodo, send him my respect.

OOC: Charles, your growth rate is back to 5%. I don't think I remembered to tell you that. My mistake.

Oh: Thanks! Now I can invest my 120 instead of getting more Liabilities! Thanks! I'll change spending but: I will still get some Giant Mountain Goat Riders!

Also, I also get movement bonus: from, as I call it, rideable mountain goats. Only Giant Goat Riders are true cavarly, all others use mountain goats as transportation and sometimes food.

I suggest keeping your goats away from Kodo. He might find them....tasty. I doubt Kodo needs guarding. Also, when I get my army all together, I'm going to be moving rather fast towards Xal'Amul. The cool thing about my advantage is that normally, if you attached some archers with calvalry, they could only move 1 tile per day. However, my fast moving units aren't really calvalry, they're infantry. So I can bypass the whole slowing down thing for archers.

South of Dhuri, Amaliad (flyingchicken) (P-9)

The group had been traveling for some time after their run-in with Lokish Lizardmen. Icthys, the only one not involved in the fight, was keeping a close eye on Grimfist's wounds. The further south the group traveled, the darker the woods became, even during broad daylight. They were entering a jungle. The trees became thicker, vines were everywhere, strange lights could be seen in every direction. Perhaps lost spirits that are trying to find their way. Exotic birds were creating beautiful song and odd assortments of animals were scurrying in circles around their movements. This jungle was lush and healthy, and had seen recent rainfall. At one point, the group had to trudge through a large puddle of muddy water. Ichthys found skeletons of what looked to be humans within the puddle, and replaced one of his current minions with one of these new, fresher and thicker skeletons. Time seemed to lose itself within this jungle. During nights, nothing could be seen above. The canopy blocked out any stars, and sometimes moonlight would blast through small openings, casting odd shapes on the jungle floor or on the sides of some of the large trees. Whenever the group became hungry, Skizzmo, proving his effectiveness as both a sneaky, clever goblin and a somewhat crude yet effective hunter, would slice open a deer or a large lizard while maintaining a mischievous chuckle, and they would gnaw on the raw meat with much delight.

It was a week until their destination when they noticed that the forest was beginning to get even thicker. This jungle was determined to slow their movement. Just when they thought this place could get no more cramped, the trees became incredibly dense and almost seemed alive. The group was often having to kill either a crocodile coming out of a pond intent on attacking them or sometimes odd creatures such as large jungle vultures. These creatures were more a nuisance than anything else, and the party was beginning to grow tired of trekking through this annoyingly dense woods. Ichthys, once a Dark Elf himself, knew how to survive in this type of land, but for the other three, they just wanted this journey to be over.

They were very close to the area they were to investigate now. It was morning and they had just camped on the edge of the southern territories of the forest. They continued their journey and by dusk they had reached the presumed area in which Amaliad's caravan went missing. They continued walking and began to hear something in the distance. It sounded like drums pounding and strange yells and screeches. There was light ahead amidst the darkness. The group headed for the light. They walked towards the lanterns they could see and came to a small opening in the dense woods, surrounded by larger trees, that they were observing from behind a smaller brush. What they witnessed was incredible.

Within this opening there were giant stags on the ground, blood everywhere. Skizzmo licked his lips. The caravan was there, and it had been completely destroyed, all of the items within looted. Standing guard around the entire pass must have been at least thirty large, tough-looking lizardmen, sporting armor and some even weapons. A few lizardmen walked out of the opposite side of the opening and began chewing on the stags, eating their flesh. The group was incredibly jealous of that tasty meal. They could do nothing. These thirty lizardmen alone would destroy all of them in any situation. A few more lizardmen emerged from the opposite side of the opening. Some of them were wearing cloaks. Strange to see lizardmen sporting cloaks. These lizardmen looked much more intelligent and sinister than the ones the Lokish Lizardmen the group had encountered before. Some of the lizardmen with the cloaked ones pulled out beautifully ornate drums and began to pound on them. It was as if some sort of festival was beginning. The group sneaked around and to the side, and peered beyond the opening, through the thick jungle. There was another small opening. Skizzmo was charged with investigation. He quietly sneaked over to the second opening. When he returned to the group, he told them his discoveries. He told them that there were at least two hundred lizardmen in the second opening, crowded in there, talking, drinking, congregating, some of them eating stag meat. The group was surprised at this investigation. As they moved quietly back the way they came, they noticed high in the trees around both openings something they did not notice before. A few bodies of Dark Elves were strung up on three large trees. They had long been dead, or maybe taken prisoner and died while hanging there. Perhaps these victims were tortured. But for what reason? The discoveries of this night had several mysterious implications.

A few of the cloaked lizardmen began advancing towards the group. Ichthys sensed power within these creatures. He ordered the group to back off. Ichthys, Skizzmo, Grimfist, and Gnash quietly moved away from the encampment they had discovered. While moving from here, Gnash snapped a few twigs under his blundering body. Several roars were heard. In hot pursuit of the group was two of the cloaked lizardmen and what looked like anywhere from ten to fifteen armored lizardmen carrying swords and spears. The group began to run through the dense jungle, but it proved to be a difficult terrain to speed through. Meanwhile, the lizardmen, home to this jungle and being agile creatures, were catching up. Ichthys ordered his skeleton minions to distract them. The minions intercepted the group of lizardmen and began to attack. Ichthys needed new minions. His skeletons had quickly been taken care of by the lizardmen. He thought fast and he raised some of the dead Dark Elves on the side of one of the large trees. Five of them jumped down from their shackles and began to attack the lizardmen group from behind. Again, those skeletons were quickly destroyed as well. These weak attacks on the group of pursuing lizardmen gave the group enough time to get ahead and escape unhurt. Now they needed to return to Dhuri, Amaliad to tell the Amaliad High Council the results of their investigation.


OOC: Now its time for you to return to Dhuri, Amaliad. I suppose you could also take a detour and explore those character item locations in P-12 and/or O-12. You might only have time for one of those item locations. Don't forget about the impatience of Amaliad's High Council.

Contact with the Druids of the Maedaray Steppes (das)

The rumors were fierce and they were wide. Some of the small towns that had just joined into Malthen's bustling kingdom were even arming their populace into small militias. For long, the Druids of the Maedaray Steppes kept to themselves. They were a reclusive group of powerful magic-users, but their purpose was seemingly benign. Their location, in the center of the Maedaray Steppes, was the sight of a magnificent school of druidic practices. The school had been started some time ago by an Elf whose name is not known. For a long time he had trained druids there and had taught many secrets of the druidic language and arts. He had taught other things, as well, such as history, philosophy, religion, and various languages. He had even taught painting.

Their school had grown to be remarkably self-sufficient, growing many of its own crops and specializing in its own unique cuisine. Still, the druids every now and then required contact with the outside world. They needed to visit shops to purchase mostly wood and sometimes livestock. Their entry into the villages of what is now Malthen would often startle the populace there, but not necessarily make them fear for their lives. The druids were feared because the people of these villages were quaint and somewhat uneducated. Their knowledge of magic or of the druidic arts was limited. What they did not understand, they feared. As Malthen settled further north and these villages became part of the kingdom, the druids had yet to be seen again. Fearing that these powerful magic-users would return to their village to find it under new rulership, the people armed themselves.

This situation started entirely from rumors. When the druids did not come into town like they normally do, the people became suspicious. Yet, before, when the druids came on a monthly basis, the people were still suspicious. These uneducated villages were hard on druids that they had barely talked to. Druids are often ascetic professions. They do not drink or go to taverns. Their are socially inept, except among their own kind (depending on their race). The wise General Celebfaer knew that perhaps these villages were simply not accustomed to magical arts. He suspected that perhaps these rumors were unfounded.

When a few troops on patrol were ordered to attempt to establish contact with the druids, they went on horseback to the great school. It was quite a magnificent sight. It was not a fortress, but a beautiful arrangement of several structures and homes with gorgeous farms. There was one large main building that had the size of a monastery, but was made completely of wood and with curves and designs not found on any church. Celebfaer's lieutenant rode up with his small group of Malthen infantry. They got off their horses and looked around. A few men wearing dark brown robes approached them. They smiled and nodded to the infantry and to Celebfaer's lieutenant.

Celebfaer explained his situation and that he was ordered to make contact with these druids. The druids smiled and said that they were pleased to make his acquaintance. They were extremely kind, gentle, and polite. They offered the lieutenant and his infantry something to eat. Reluctantly, they accepted. They walked into a large dining hall and dined on fresh fruits and vegetables and a recently sacrificed lamb. It was one of the most delicious meals any of those soldiers had ever eaten. After their meal, a figure walked into the dining hall and sat down with them. He put the hood of his cloak down on his shoulders. He was an elf, skinny and tall and with long, gray hair.

"I am very pleased to meet all of you. My name is Maen. My ancestors were the first to settle these steppes, long ago when the druidic arts were popular in this region. Our popularity has waned and we have since limited ourselves to what you see around you. We call this home and it is our pride and joy. I welcome you. I am the headmaster of this university and the ruler of this area. I understand there is much to talk about. I know most of what is going on and why you are here. I know that some of the humans that dwell in the villages to the southeast sincerely believe that we mean harm. Let me be the first to tell you that we do not mean any harm, and your kingdom does not have to fear any attack or problems from our humble village here. We are a peaceful school of druids." Maen shifted himself a bit and smiled. The soldiers could tell he was enthusiastic about this meeting. "We will no longer go into the villages we used to to buy our wood and livestock. It has nothing to do with Malthen, but because those villages there obviously do not trust us. I have two issues to discuss with you. First, I would like to offer you a trade agreement. We will trade with you some of the fine spices that we grow here in exchange for wood. Do you think your king would accept this agreement? Second," Maen continued, shifting himself, acting nervously. "Well, you see, we here enjoy our village and our school. I have taught many druids here who are now out somewhere in Sekai, practicing these arts and no doubt performing feats of druidic honor. I would like to ask your king if he would consider to not expand the Kingdom of Malthen into the Maedaray Steppes." (J-21, J-22, K-20, K-21, K-22)

"If His Majesty will not expand into the Maedaray Steppes, I declare that my druids will protect Malthen's northern frontier from any danger or attacks, no matter the circumstances. Can you deliver these messages to your king?" Maen smiled as his druids were making conversation with the soldiers. Another druid came into the dining hall delivering a type of milk. Both the druids and the soldiers drank this milk and the soldiers commented on how absolutely delicious it was. The soldiers and the lieutenant thanked the druids for their hospitality and were kindly escorted back to their horses. The soldiers waved goodbye as they headed back to Malthen.

Options

• Say "yes" to both or only one of the proposals.
• Say "no" to both or only one of the proposals.

Effects

• If you say "yes" to both agreements, Malthen will by protected by the druids to the north if the northern part of the kingdom is ever attacked or needs assistance.
• If you say "no", you do not know what will happen.

The General

Moronnin of the Bloodied Axe sniffed the air, and nodded. With a gruff voice, he spoke.

"The Orcs are near."

Moronnin, General of Dorovel, was quite large for a dwarf. He was nearly five feet in height, and muscular from head to toe. His hair and beard were a fiery orange, flecked with white, and his eyes were cold and green.

When he spoke, his voice sounded flat and unchanging. To a stranger, he would seem uncaring, or callous- but beneath that reserved behaviour was the burning heart of a warrior.

He was clad in dark silvery plates of armour, engraved completely with runes for power and nobility. In his gauntleted hands, a great axe rested.

A young scout-dwarf approached the silent general, and spoke to him. Moronnin nodded, and rose from a crouching position.

"Dwarves! Attention!"

His force immediately fell silent.

"It is four weeks to the day since we left Dorovel. The orcs are near. There is a ruin upon a hill above their encampment, little more than a tiny ring wall. We shall march straight to it, and set up defensive positions. Infantry will fortify themselves within this structure. Archers will move into the center, on the hilltop, and begin to bombard the Orcish encampment, drawing them out. Then, we do battle at our advantage. Are we clear."

"We are clear, sir!"

"Then prepare yourselves to move out. For Dorovel!"

"For Dorovel!"