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PostPosted: Sun May 08, 2011 3:06 am 
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"The Pro-Consul's brother, Lucius Valerius Flaccus, is serving this year as Urban Praetor. I will send word ahead to him that you are to arrive in Rome, and he will inform the necessary authorities. As you are a Magister, your domicile will need to be warded by the Abjurarii and the Vestal Priestesses before you are allowed to dwell there. I would recommend renting an appropriate villa near the Campus Martius."

Lucullus gestured to one of the soldiers that had accompanied him. "If you wish, I will furnish an escort of a half-century of men, though Rome's lands are safe and you should not require such a thing. You may also bring a retinue of your own soldiers if you wish. Rome has nothing to fear from anything you might bring."


"I will bring a group of eight. Enough to share a tent and maintain a watch during the night. No more should be required" this too may or may not have been a challenge, but the old amphibian's voice war relatively warm, as if he had not noticed the implicit challenge. The eight he mentioned was his personal bodyguard, the two longbowmen and six halberdiers he had brought to the barge. It would take a considerable effort to assassinate him, if the romans decided that prudent. Not only because his guards were very dilligent, but his magics were more potent than any other magister in the entire impirium. More than a match for an Extraordinari assassin--also more than a match for any roman sorcerer, or even several working in concert. Marmoratus had been using magic longer than the romans had lived on the continent. He mused privately to himself how wards placed on his rented dwelling would be effective. Still, he left room to be impressed.

"With your permission, I shall depart for Rome in the morning."

Now, the question rose in his head, who to ask to convene the senate.

_________________
"Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution."
- Theodosius Dobzhansky

There is no word harsh enough for this. No verbal edge sharp and cold enough to set forth the flaying needed. English is to young and the elder languages of the earth beyond me. ~Frigid

The Holocaust was an Amazing Logistical Achievement~Havoc


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PostPosted: Fri May 20, 2011 6:15 pm 
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Cat wrote:
Ivar continue to drag the nomad. "You wanted the old ways you get the old ways. Die like a slave." He thrust the nomad into a watering trough and pinned him there with one hand.


The rest stood and watched grimly as Ivar drowned the old one eyed man. When the old man had finally kicked his last, they looked at one another and without a word began walking out of the fortress. A pair of them moved over to the old man's body and lifted it, clearly intending to cart it home with them. There was a faint family resemblance between them and the dead man. About a third of the young men hung back, until a tall, blond young man stepped forward to Ivar.

"We must wait until he is buried and his family has done the burial rites. In 3 days when that has occured, we will return here and listen to what you have to say and about your lord." He said quietly, to low for the relatives of the slain man to hear.

Charon wrote:
"And who do your free ogres kill, Jarl? Other ogres? And for what? A flock of sheep and a strong ogress?" Agni spat on the floor. "That way serves only the Snake. If you wish to do that, I will not stop you from making your own ignoble grave." Agni turned, glaring at those who still stood with Ragnvalder, their complicity would make them just as guilty in his eyes and the eyes of the Sky God.


"Namby Pamby Pap from a pack of human worshippers. We live free! We live the way Ogres were meant to by the Sky! You whimper that we strengthen the Snake while you chain all the Ogres you can into serving you like cattle. Pah! Get out of my hall and don't come back unless you want your blood spilled, run home to your "King" and tell that puffed up miserable excuse for a Jarl that these lands are mine and I chose freedom from enslavement to his foreign hand. And if that oversized Roman remembers what it is to be an Ogre, if he wants my lands, he'll come his own self and take it from me, Ogre to Ogre, as is the old ways! NOW OUT!" The Jarl roared surging out of his seat. His warriors roared with him.

Charon wrote:
Sindri and the other captains took up various positions in the room, the Drowned seeming to relax slightly for the first time, though Sindri was still taking everything in stride. "Word has no doubt reached your ears that the Lord of Dragonstone is marshaling his armies to march. Though I doubt sea lords such as yourselves are overly concerned about where armies tread, my lord still wanted to assure you that our armies are not aimed at the fleet of the north."


"It may be that I heard some of this, aye and right grateful I am to the King of Ogres for his blessed concern over what my fearful head may be concocting when I see him stir. Yar, although it does beg the question matey. If your mighty Lord of Dragonstone is marching and not at your poor host of a waverunner, then where does he seek to roam?" The Grand Admiral responded stroking his chin and gazing craftily at the Ogre. The various Selkie Captains all stirred at the question and their own gazes narrowed. They had no fear of Ogres not even this close, for they were strong themselves and on the ocean they had gifts aplenty.

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PostPosted: Fri May 20, 2011 6:38 pm 
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Far from meetings, other civilizations, and ogres, the goblin-built galleys were run aground across the coastal region. The orcs murmured amongst themselves, ill-at-ease with having go so far, and through so much pleasant terrain, and not being assaulted by more than the occasional village militia. One of them bent suddenly, and stood up straighter.

"No resistance.." Wall-Shatterer mused.

"So we get to keep this, yesyes? We take and make BANGS!, yesno?"

"No, captain. From here will come food. None of your tainted science here. Undertow will see to it the rivers will give plenty of fertile land. Take your goblins and build our first outpost in this new land.. A place where we will not have to strain so much."

As the connection spell faded, the High Cheiftan leaned back. Interesting. If the Knights and other powers would not contest him, perhaps there lay a hope for his people.

_________________
Half-Damned, All Hero.

Tev: You're happy. You're Plotting. You're Evil.
Me: Evil is so inappropriate. I'm ruthless.
Tev: You're turning me on.

I Am Rage. You Will Know My Fury.


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PostPosted: Sun May 22, 2011 1:24 am 
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"No," said Ivar. "None of you are leaving until I have spoken. He died like a slave and his body goes to the crows. You have a problem with that and when I am done you can draw that sword and I'll give you warrior's death and your relatives can give you a warrior's funeral.

"We are the Iron Men. You think we have been broken to the Witch King but you are wrong. We have been reforged into finer steel. You think we are Roman and think of timid farmers and prove you know nothing at all.

"The silence speaks loudly. Where are the raiders, the traders, the horse thieves, war parties, and emissaries? There are none. Not one tribe, not one clan. Only scouts. The absence speaks louder than thunder. I know you are in conclave and you have sent no emissaries, made no demands, made no claims, and made no statements of your rights. I know why. You have gathered to oppose us, but fear to do so openly. You know you cannot stand against us, so you place your faith in a clever trick which you think will turn the tides against us. That is what your silence shouts to the open sky."

"But you have outsmarted yourselves. Too many know that secret to keep it for much longer. If I wished to violate my honour I could tear it from you hear and now, but I will not. I will know it soon enough.

"I have slain more men than I can count. I have broken armies. I have slain a dragon and live to speak of it. Whatever you have planned will not be enough and even if it was it cannot help you now. I have heard your silence and you are within the reach of my army. Look to your neighbors and ask yourselves who will stand with you when the axe falls.

"Those who stand at the side of the Witch King lose neither wealth nor land, instead growing richer and stronger in his service. He holds out his hand. Take it and grow wealthy and strong or raise your sword against the one who you cannot defeat. Do not make the choice of fools."

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"Justice belongs to the strong. If there are gods, they do not help. But what is done under the Naked Stars is remembered."


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PostPosted: Mon May 23, 2011 6:48 pm 
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They marched down from the mountains, clad in brightly dyed wool spun finer than anything the locals could produce, their escorts bearing arms of fine steel. None of the Mummy Lords had accompanied the party, but then again it would not do to spook the locals, and the sorcerer that lead the group did not fail to impress with the flinty look in his eyes. He was clearly no warrior, but his advancing age had not brought infirmness but a hardening of the body like the drying of certain hardwoods. His whole demeanour gave off the air that he could break men like twigs, even if he had to use his mind rather than his body to do it.

Despite the fearsomeness of the party, they walked into the forests without fear and without their weapons drawn. The Amatocoya were here to talk, not fight, strange at as that was. As they drew near to one of the villages in the forests along the northern foothills of the great mountains, they saw the local warriors starting to surround them, but the sorcerer just raised a hand and kept his men steady. They were not to throw the first stone, not today.

Judging that they had gone far enough towards the village that another step would go from being merely threatening to outright provocation, the sorcerer finally called for his party to stop. The local warriors still milled about in the shadows of the trees, not even the bits of snow on the ground crunching to give away their position, but he knew they were there. Scanning about with an even look, he finally announced in a booming voice, "Proud men of the Northern Forests, the Amatocoya go to war with the melting of the snows and ice. We march to glory and victory, and we wish great warriors to accompany us. We bring tribute for those tribes that wish to side with us, today in the form of simple trinkets to serve as a promise of greater riches. Who will speak with me?"

---

To the south-west, where the land grew dry and parched, another party sailed out from the mountains along the great river. Setting ashore just upstream of the first semi-permanent village along the waterway, their leader called out to the men waiting in the broken terrain, "We seek the great warriors of the deserts, the nomads who bow before no one. We have need of your ferocity."

---

Across the great mountains, a much more subdued ambassadorial party moved carefully down the mountains along disused but well guarded paths until they stood just outside ballista range of the nearest Roman outpost and their herald bellowed out, "WE WISH TO TALK!"


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PostPosted: Tue May 24, 2011 12:02 am 
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The Romans were not idiots. Of all the borders that the Empire possessed, the northern one, boundary between the writ of Rome and those of the Mummy Lords and Amphibians, was far and away the most dangerous. The mountain fastnesses of the Amatacoya extended south like a dagger pointed into the heart of Roman territory. An invading army, striking through the Northern Crescent from those inhospitable mountains, could lunge south into the fertile and peaceful lands of Suzatis, homeland of the Hobbites who depended on Rome for their defense. Worse yet, that same army lunging south-east would come, in short order, to Latium, and the gates of Rome herself.

It was for this reason that, of the nine crack legions that Rome fielded, six were customarily deployed in a lengthy cordon, S-curving from the fortress of Arx Sceleratus, to the mouth of the Rhennus river on the Mare Quadratus, with a seventh usually deployed nearby in case of trouble. One guarded Arx Sceleratus itself, two held the fortified lines of the Western Crescent. The Rhennus river was held by two more legions near its mouth, while one was posted in Norricum, maintaining the tip of the Roman wedge between the Amatacoya mountains and the Amphibian swamps. Ensconced behind the most advanced fortifications Rome could devise, protected by wards devised by the Collegia Abjuraria and blessed by the Vestal Virgins. Both the Amatacoya and the Amphibians relied upon magic more heavily than Rome did, and for this reason, the Abjurarians were always thick here, employing their singular talents to ensure that no magical assault could be sprung against the Empire or her stalwart legions.

Though the Amatacoya and Rome had little in common, trade was a universal constant, trickle though it might have been. The paths through Rome's fortified lines were well known to all, particularly at Arx Sceleratus, one of Rome's oldest fortresses. But an Ambassadorial entourage was not expected here, not un-announced.

Several minutes passed before the gates to Arx Sceleratus opened, revealing a handful of Romans on horseback. They trotted unhurriedly out to meet the Amatacoya, smaller in number than their counterparts, but plainly not worried about the potential for assault. Eight thousand crack troops guarded this fortress, armed with every terrible weapon the Romans could think of. If the Amatacoya wished to launch an invasion of the Empire, this was an unlikely way to go about it.

As the Romans arrived before the Amatacoya, their leader signaled a halt, addressing the Amatacoya from the saddle.

"I am Quintus Flavius Balbus," said the leader, "Military Tribune of the Mortis Legion. If you wish to speak, you may speak to me."

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Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."


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PostPosted: Tue May 24, 2011 6:52 pm 
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One of the men nodded and approached, a scroll in hand. He said, "I am Nahaxicuolla, herald of Hamatallya, and I bring a letter of non-aggressive intent towards the Latin tribes of the south. If that will be sufficient for your king, then so be it, but I am also empowered to arrange for a more proper diplomatic mission if that is what will be required to reassure you that our Thunder's Call shall not water your lands with blood."


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PostPosted: Tue May 24, 2011 11:09 pm 
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With a nod to one of the other troopers, Quintus Flavius Balbus watched as the note was taken and sealed within a diplomatic pouch for transport back to Rome.

"There are no kings in Rome," said Quintus Flavius. "The Consuls and the Senate must decide on matters of war and peace. But why do you send us this message now? If you do not plan to cover our lands in blood, just whose lands do you intend to water?"

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Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...

Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."


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PostPosted: Tue May 24, 2011 11:40 pm 
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"Our ambitions lie to the northeast, but we are well enough aware that when a nation mobilizes a third of a million troops, their neighbours tend to get worried about what they are doing with them. We simply wish to let you know that... well, we honestly cannot tell you not to worry or draw concern, but rather that doing anything rash is unnecessary. Your Legions are fearsome, which is why we do not want you getting the wrong idea... but our roads are just as good as yours and we can have our armies back from campaign in short order, so don't think of taking advantage of the situation either," Nahaxicuolla explains.

A smirk then passes over his face as he adds on, "And while I am not authorized to make many other claims outside an ambassadorial mission, if your chiefs ever wish to kill frogs, we are open to negotiation."


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PostPosted: Wed May 25, 2011 8:50 pm 
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Upper Rhinellus
Dragon's Claw Castle


It was the dead of night, a rare clear one for the spring season. The castle's garrison, comprised year round of the Second and Third Legions, and during the campaign season with their attached Auxilla, was doing what soldiers of all sorts do at night in peace time. Drinking, gambling, singing. The only thing they were not doing was fucking brothel whores. It was not the spawning season. Still, not everyone was enjoying their evening revel. There was a man on every single one of the towers along the outer curtain wall, and pairs patrolled every section of wall, and watched over each gate. A lone man stood in the tallest tower of the tallest keep, watching, waiting. It would be nearly impossible for the Amatocoya to invade without being noticed, but nearly impossible was not close enough to impossible for anyone's tastes.

The man at the top of the keep was none other than the castle's warlord, Baron Catesbeianus, he was a massive Utricularian, his skin bright with a nicely yellowed throat. His castle was the first line of defense for the Imperium, and also its first attack group. He had two legions under his command, along with their attached Auxilla and artillery companies. The fortress itself was sprawling. Two crags overlooked the pass, and on the top of each crag was a separate hexagonall tower-keep, each thirty five meters tall, with walls 5 meters thick, topped with six towers which rose another ten meters. The gate to each keep was defended by a causway which lead twenty meters up to a gap which could be spanned by a drawbridge. The roof was lined with crenelated battlements, and covered by a sloping slate roof. Its towers were treated similarly

The crenelated walls defending the inner baily were ten meters high, and four thick, each capped with a 20 meter tall tower, which, being the only way to get on and off the walls, were each independent fortresses, defended by stout oak doors which could be readily barred from the inside, and possessing their own stores of food and water in cisterns

The outer baily walls were designed similarly, though not as thick, only three meters. Each gatehouse, of which there were several, was a sprawling building twenty five meters tall, with towers flanking the doors. The outer baily gates were protected by a drawbridge spanned ditch, and possessed a portcullis on each end, as well as a set of oak doors in the center. Murder holes were in the cieling, and arrow loops along the inner walls.

The fortress was not something anyone wanted to attack if it only had a thousand men, but it has thirty times that in it right now, fed by a regular supply of provisions from the town ten miles further into Imperial territory. Catesbeianus was contemplating it. A signal from one of the scouts he had sent across the border.

He knew that the Amatacoya were mobilizing to invade, he just did not know where. He had sent out two scouting parties of fifty woodsmen archers each to survey the provinces bordering his own, and it seems that they had met at their rendezvous, and returned.

Or so it seemed. It was possible that they could have been captured, and that this could be a night attack, aimed at getting the gate open while most of the Garrison was unarmed and drunk. He turned to a bell, and rang it once, summoning to arms the men assigned to the next watch rotation to the front gate. By the time he got there, having to climb down many many spiral staircases and cross several hundred yards of courtyard, the men had assembled. The archers had mounted the battlements of the gatehouse, halberdiers were assembled behind the doors as a blocking action.

"Open the gate!" he called up, and with the sound of rattling chains and metal on stone, the portculli were raised. Once that was done, six men hauled on the massive lever that would release the wooden doors, locked by spiked teeth that jutted into the ceiling and floor of the gatehouse, then heaved it open. The caution, was unwarranted this time, however it was no shame to be cautious and wrong. There were many many instances of such trickery attacks through history, and no one wanted to have their name associated with one.

Standing before him was the contingent of Acridian woodsmen, their longbows in hand, their commander, Ser Virgatipes, his second in command, bearing a sealed parchment, which he handed to the Baron with a small bow.

"My Lord, to the North, the Amatacoya have deployed a hundred thousand men, to the east, forty thousand. We were not able to get close enough to reveal their disposition or arrangement, or where they will be marching."

"Thank you Virgatipes"

"Sir" the man said, accepting the thanks. "Do you have other orders"

"Rouse the men who are asleep. I want them on the wall guard, four six hour shifts beginning tomorrow, send a message to the capital and request the sixth legion be recalled. Another message to Marmoratus with the updated information. A third... send a messanger falcon to the town. Evacuation orders, with as much in the way of provisions as they can carry or haul by beast. At this point, an invasion is probably imminent."

Messages were sent by falconers, attaching messages to the feet of the highly trained fast-flying birds

...

Several days later, Marmoratus was soaking in his rented villa in the Pomerium, just outside Rome. The climate was far too dry this far south, especially in the spring and summer. It was the reason why his victory at Ostia over a hundred years prior could not be pressed to full advantage. He simply had no way of keeping that many soldiers from dehydrating. His villa however, contained its own small bath house, which in truth was where he spent most of his time, and where his business was conducted. The only problem was the slavery. The Villa came with a staff of terrified slaves, who seemed to walk on pins and needles around their current--if transient--masters. There was no doubt what horrible tales were told in Rome about the Batrachians. Slavering monsters, eaters of man-flesh. None of this was true, necessarily. In times of great need, in old times before he had instituted the system of sacrifices and the spirits were unplacated, when the Great Serpent Asmodeus was not imprisoned, famine was common, and cannibalism was not unheard of. That however, had been hundreds of years ago. Even then, sacrifices were occasionally taken from neighbors, but even that had not happened for centuries. It was at a time when the state was occasionally too weak and divided to compel them, even with compensation, through the lottery. Now this was no longer a problem.

There was a certain irony however. The Batrachians did not have a tradition of slavery. Someone could be forced into indentured servitude as a form of legal punishment such as restitution for a crime, or to pay off debts, but there were strict legally imposed time limits, and it was not hereditary. The difference was not even moral, it was practical. It was always cheaper to have slaves run your farms and mines, but those were also major sources of employment. In a civilization where nobility was elected, it made poor political sense to have slaves take all the meaningful work. Without having to compete with large slave-holders, artisans and craftsmen were better able to nurse their businesses, and eventually, large merchant families grew from them. These merchant families, in the pursuit of power, invested in the arts, sciences, architecture, and magic, advancing the state of these disciplines--under the patronage of a given merchant family of course--who then often had their patriarch, or matriarch for that matter ascend into the nobility. In the days before the state was unified before the Roman War, conflicts between noble houses often erupted into open war. Now, this was far less frequent.

Marmoratus supposed, as he wistfully thought about the history he had helped to bring about, that if the Batrachians were to see the realities of slavery within Rome, they may view it as a barbaric practice. That would be a naive appraisal. It was not barbaric, because the Romans were a great civilization, and no great civilization could have its foundation built upon barbarism. For example, Slaves within Rome could obtain their freedom, and had certain legal protections of their persons. This was not the case in many other states. No, it was not barbaric, but it would eventually become a problem for Rome. There was however, a cultural difference. In the Batrachian language, no living thing was ever linguistically an object. Nothing in nature, and this included thinking beings, was a thing; but was recognized in the language as a subject, a being with intentions. So, while a living thing or even the land itself could be used, directed, or utilized, they could not be owned. No one really owned land for example. They owned the buildings on the land, but not the land itself. They controlled it, but there was an implicit recognition that the land owned itself.

Marmoratus mused over these things as he penned several letters, setting one piece of parchment aside as he took up another, using a plank of timber spanning an inset in the bath as a writing table. He had gotten the message about the Amatacoyan troops the night before, and the falcon had been well fed for its trouble, allowed to rest for the night, and sent home. He finished up the last of his dispatches, and sealed each in a canister.

"Kaiseri?"

"Magister?" said one of he soaking Halberdiers

"I have messages to send, do you have enough water?" Tarichans were somewhat more drought tolerant than their cousins, able to store more water in their bladders, and their skin was less permeable.

"Enough for the day."

"Good. I need these two canisters delivered to Lucius Cornelius Sulla, and this third, delivered to Quintus Sertorius

<PMs to be sent shortly>

_________________
"Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution."
- Theodosius Dobzhansky

There is no word harsh enough for this. No verbal edge sharp and cold enough to set forth the flaying needed. English is to young and the elder languages of the earth beyond me. ~Frigid

The Holocaust was an Amazing Logistical Achievement~Havoc


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PostPosted: Wed Jun 01, 2011 11:54 pm 
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Nitram wrote:
"No, captain. From here will come food. None of your tainted science here. Undertow will see to it the rivers will give plenty of fertile land. Take your goblins and build our first outpost in this new land.. A place where we will not have to strain so much."

As the connection spell faded, the High Cheiftan leaned back. Interesting. If the Knights and other powers would not contest him, perhaps there lay a hope for his people.


The Crusader Knights, Grandmother Fortress (capital)

"Milords, the scouts are very clear in the monsters action, we must march." Annouced Ulta, a large blond giant of a man in chain mail. He stood addressing 4 men sitting in a half circle, each with a banner behind them and a sword in their hands. Around the chamber, under the eyes of great stone figures stood men in arms, knights of the orders.

"Aye, the scouts are clear, Sir Ulta. The creatures do move, away from the realms and into wilderness towards the wildness of the sea. There are barely even any wild tribesmen there. Why do we march? To protect the rabbits and the fish?" Asked a smaller, slim olive skinned man. A chuckle ran around the room at his remark.

"Sir Bevier, the Dark Lord may have fallen but that is no excuse to grow lax." Snarled Sir Ulta.

"Nor is it an excuse to become an orc." Shot back Bevier. Ulta's eyes bulged at that and a number of men cried out in protest.

"Peace! You are Knights and gentlemen. Remember it." Cried out one of the seated figured. Both men bowed eying each other coldly.

"Forgive me, grandmasters but we sit here while the monsters strengthen themselves. But give the call and we will wipe them from the land and end this once and for all." Sir Ulta said.

"For what sin? For being born with tusks? The Trolls of the south will surely be alarmed at that. Milords, should we not find out what the creatures think they are doing before we declare war to the knife on them for... Moving down an river?" asked Sir Bevier.

"Grandmaster Redhawk, both knights present valid points. While the Dark Lord has been thrown down and slain, his slaves and servants still live and now seek new lands. Surely something must be done." Spoke another seated figure.

"Grandmaster Fisher, we stand as men without a mission. The task of the Orders has been to shield the lands of civilization from darkness. The Sovereign Lord of that darkness is however no more. While many here would have us invade the dark lands and ensure that his former slaves are also render no more... We could not do so without taking on the very sins we struggled against. I will not go to my forefathers stained with the blood of females and cubs. Not if it can be avoided." Replied Grandmaster Redhawk.

"What would the Grandmaster of the Redhawks have us do then?" Asked the oldest seated figure.

"With Grandmasters Flowers blessing. I would go myself into the dark lands and do something no has considered. I would ask the orcs their intention. I will know if they lie, it is within my arts and if I do not return then Sir Ulta will have his war and I pray he does not come to curse his desire." Grandmaster Redhawk declared.

Cat wrote:
"I have slain more men than I can count. I have broken armies. I have slain a dragon and live to speak of it. Whatever you have planned will not be enough and even if it was it cannot help you now. I have heard your silence and you are within the reach of my army. Look to your neighbors and ask yourselves who will stand with you when the axe falls.

"Those who stand at the side of the Witch King lose neither wealth nor land, instead growing richer and stronger in his service. He holds out his hand. Take it and grow wealthy and strong or raise your sword against the one who you cannot defeat. Do not make the choice of fools."


"Ivar, you go to far. We were prepared to listen, to take your salt. But this insults us all. Be it on your head then." Said the one who had spoken last. As a group they turned and left, the speaker was the last out the gate and he turned and spoke again.

"Let it not be said warning was not given to the man who hosted us. He Who Burns Men is coming, he has mastered the centaur tribes of the steppe, broken the Wolf Brothers and slain Ogres with his bare hands. He is not human. If you are here when he comes, he will kill you all." With that he turned and walked off stiff legged.

A Nut wrote:
Judging that they had gone far enough towards the village that another step would go from being merely threatening to outright provocation, the sorcerer finally called for his party to stop. The local warriors still milled about in the shadows of the trees, not even the bits of snow on the ground crunching to give away their position, but he knew they were there. Scanning about with an even look, he finally announced in a booming voice, "Proud men of the Northern Forests, the Amatocoya go to war with the melting of the snows and ice. We march to glory and victory, and we wish great warriors to accompany us. We bring tribute for those tribes that wish to side with us, today in the form of simple trinkets to serve as a promise of greater riches. Who will speak with me?"


The women faded into the huts and the men came forward, many of them clutching a simple weapon. One came right up to the strangers, he was not the biggest, nor was he an impressive example of a human male, being wiry and balding. He spinted at the party for a tense number of minutes before breaking out into a yellow, gapped tooth grin.

"I would hear more of these riches! Come into my village and eat with us." He bellowed and the men cheered.

_________________
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken


Last edited by frigidmagi on Wed Jun 01, 2011 11:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Jun 02, 2011 1:20 am 
The All-Seeing Eye
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The border with the Crusader's lands were patrolled, but a single man and his personal retinue was not considered a threat. More like a spectacle. Plain Trolls and Orcs gathered at a small distance to point and murmur. Goblins, smaller than humans, sneered. The few Uruks stationed here..

Many had assumed the unnatural beasts had died out in the war. Born of horrific, forbidden magics that fused creatures, Uruks had been made to be superior to orcs. They had been. And the legions of Light had reacted as expected.

Yet, a pair stood, in the path of the human. One growled out servicable common. "Crusader." The word was spat. "Why you come? Tire of green, water, food? Perhaps come say sorry, doubt it."

_________________
Half-Damned, All Hero.

Tev: You're happy. You're Plotting. You're Evil.
Me: Evil is so inappropriate. I'm ruthless.
Tev: You're turning me on.

I Am Rage. You Will Know My Fury.


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