Stranger things.....(Razgriz x Lady Bloody Ava)

Razgriz · Jun 22, 2012

Prologue:

It was the year 1098, the start of the Middle Ages. Oh yes, there were knights, kings, princesses, all the good stuff where one hears of the noble champion of the king rescuing the damsel in distress from some inherently evil creature of demonic origin. However, unlike those fairy book tales where everything works out in the end, the times were much darker and grislier than most would care to admit. Famine, plague, war and death ravaged the lands; humans were but a minority in most respects compared to the other races. And as the old saying goes: Don't look under a rock, if you're not ready to see what lies beneath.

Present day:
A colossal fortress stood imposingly on the horizon, its turrets and walls of granite and limestone blocks held by mud and mortar making up the majority of its architecture. A treacherous moat filled with vicious fish and home to nasty reptiles easily larger than a man encompassed the perimeter, the only safe passage being any of the three drawbridges that were lowered whenever someone deemed worthy could enter. Inside the overwhelming message of entry denial stood the monument to human achievement: The walled city of Evugid, a completely self-sufficient community where only those of noble blood or exceptional skill were allowed to reside. The rest paid homage to their 'betters' through the renting of farmlands on the outside of the city, giving a share of their crop and sweat so that they could keep their land and make the best of an admittedly bleak existence.

However, they were less reluctant to do so; the King himself ensured the safety of the lands his people inhabited, wisely using his skilled warriors and resources to help his subjects carve out a life for themselves. In the heart of Evugid stood the castle, heavily guarded by the Knights of the King, one Richard the Third. To even enter this castle required considerable patience, as was common for royalty. And especially so, considering how widespread his control over the Kingdom of Man was. And the situation itself was even more stressful, considering all the problems they'd been having with the other 'inhabitants' of the surrounding region.

Orc raiders and clashes with Dwarven hunting bands were two major problems that no one seemed able to resolve; the Dwarves were cunning and the Orcs were monsters of the worst kind. To fell one required fifteen men and the aide of a sorcerer, a largely costly endeavor as the sorcerer was rendered useless for a long spell and over half the men died in the process. The good King - a man barely over five feet in height, his short-cropped hair and goatee largely brown, but streaked with silver from age and stress - dressed in his kingly attire. A red velvet cap adorned his head, a blue tunic and over this a black long-sleeved cloak open at the chest. The cloak itself was slit up at the arms to allow the limbs to slip through, the front trimmed with ermine fur. On his legs he wore long purple hose and green shoes similar in shape to high slippers.

He sat on his throne - a priceless chair cast in gold, rubies and sapphires adorning its armrests and back, the seat and plush backing itself comprised of the finest cotton and velvet covering - awaiting his advisor to come and give him the daily report. Soon, the man - one James Bainard - entered the royal chamber; the advisor was a man only an inch or two shorter than the king himself, wearing a fine purple cotton robe fastened at the waist and long hose, approached and knelt before Richard, saying "Your Excellency, I have some largely troubling news". "When do you not?" Richard thought to himself, stroking his chin in clear agitation before replying verbally, "Speak plainly, Bainard. Mine patience has worn thin enough today. What is this troubling news of which thou speaks?"

Bainard gulped and unraveled a small, tattered paper scroll; this was a compilation of things that he'd prepared for the King. "The town of Anvegad has recently come under siege from a Goblin horde. The elves have yet to respond to our bargain for a cease in the skirmishes, My Lord. The hunters near Knavesmire are still clashing with the Dwarves as well, along with several other towns out in the Wastelands". Bainard paused, then said, "But there is a glimmer of light in this list of darkness, Your Majesty. Gillygate seems to have successfully driven off the Orc raiders".

Richard sighed, then said in a rather moody tone, "Good.....That only leaves the other ten or so towns still being plagued by those marauders". He removed the cap from his head and ran a hand through his hair, breathing a heavy sigh as he continued, "Well, what do you recommend, Bainard?" Bainard gulped again and said, "We have knowledge of the Goblin's general area of gathering, and Cerian the Fire-Mage would be well-suited to quite literally burn them out". Richard simply said, "Good, make it so. Tell him to make their lair a pile of ash and hellfire!"

He paused then asked, "What of the Orcs and Dwarves?" Bainard replied, "By your command, the Black Brothers, Ulthane and Samael, are working on a new weapon to deal with the Orcs. The Dwarven clashes are slowly dwindling, though my Lord....Some towns even say that they're trading meat and hides for worked metal. A rare item for the towns in the stretches of barren land." Richard seemed to relax a little; at least things were being done. But there was still one outstanding issue. "And what of the elves?" he then asked, glaring at his advisor. Bainard bit his lip; there was no real solution for this problem. The humans had tried to be civil towards them, but the fact was....They simply wouldn't talk. And King Richard couldn't afford to have a war now, not when his attention was divided among so many other things.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jun 23, 2012

Behind the sky high stone wall that seemed to loom over the border of the land sat a kingdom. Bramble covered the wall all around. Only two entrances allowed passage to the heart of the elven dominion of Otmar. Within the outskirts of the heart of this thriving colony sat those who thrive more off of the land than their noble counterparts. Ore mines, herbal harvests and raising the herds were their life and their means to coin. A normal reason for those upon the outskirts of the city to venture deeper into the heart of their home was to sell their goods. Merchants from afar had to be approved from the High Elder himself before they could sell their goods to his people. At the heart of this home there sat an exemplary piece of art work. These people held an extreme finesse for the fine arts.

A domicile comprised of limestone, the blood, and the sweat of their ancestors. In addition, they have a weakness for gems and although they are not as fond of gold as the Dwarves and the humans, they still can appreciate the shining yellow color of this precious metal. In the architecture of this shining empire, we also see this finesse for fine detail. From towering columns to the thick intricately carved wooden doors that lined the halls. A style to harmonize with nature. A culture led on the belief that we are nothing without the ground that we walk on, or the air that we breath and to place yourself above it is blasphemous and doltish. Of course not everyone may share the same view.

A tall lithe male stood upon the veranda dawning a sweeping cloak of forest green. A pale look to the color of his skin and ears swept back and pointed. A long mane of fine silver and golden tendrils half tied back with shocking green orbs gazing over the nursery below. A staff that seemed to be only comprised of the long and jagged branch of a tree, occupied one hand. Ancient wording etched from the top to the bottom. Even their garden knew when times drew on the bleak. Buds hid from the precious sunlight the flooded from above. This being one of the only few places with his home where peace could be found. The sound or running footstep had reached his ears before they drew any closer. A small youth ran up being the finely aged male elf. A reluctant sigh escape the High Elf's lips as he turned his attention from the nursery, to the lad kneeled over in half and panting for air before him.

"Y-your G-grace... please..."
"Catch your breath Hugo so that I may understand what it is you speak." Vigorously Hugo nodded his head and took a few long deep breaths before sitting up straight and his small hazel eyes met those of their High Elf. "I have word to bring you from Fa- um Dergin." He quickly corrected himself.
"That being?" Clearly High Elf's patience was waning with this messenger.
"The remaining students in the academy show great promise with their summoning skills and the dwarves have placed an offer for a few runes in exchange for some ores that we have more trouble acquiring...."
The High Elf tapped his staff one on the floor to intervene. "Any word on the humans?" The word dripped with a bit of disdain, but all else seemed to be doing well by his counts.
"Y-Yes... the humans well... they seek to bargain for a cease in the skirmishes..." One could see the High elf's mind working behind such mystic eyes, weighing his answer before speaking. "We are wearing thin and we have far more important things to tend to than quarrel with them. Have them send an offer, but we will not cease until a bargain is met, otherwise, we will have no choice." The academy was thin with students. It seemed that the gift had not been as generous this round. His alchemist were working on a cure for sickness that seemed to be taking out few of the villagers on the south side. Thusly, they had to rely on what rations that were there, as measures needed to be taken to keep it contained.

The last thing he wanted was a bloody massacre with those arrogant beings. Why could they not leave well enough alone? An inquiry about his daughter sat on the tip of his tongue, but the lad would not know anything about her. "That is all Hugo.... and next time, have your father see me. News takes precedence over the white art teachings." Even his closest hand was juggling multiple tasks. It was already well past sun up and he still had yet to see his daughter. The poor girl probably buried up to her ears in studies. When would the time come to pass when he could spend ample time as a father and a husband, as well as the King to his society?

Razgriz · Jun 29, 2012

After everything was said and done, Bainard was dismissed, leaving King Richard to his thoughts. Cerian would be sent out today; he knew this was going to cost him a fair sum to procure the fire-mage's services, but it would be coin well spent if it meant that horde of blighters was taken care of. Unlike the elves, the humans often held little regard for the well-being of nature; while they certainly weren't wasteful, their methods of procuring supplies from their surroundings were seen by the Elves and the Fae in majority as less than desirable....and that was being polite about it all.

Richard however, had more pressing matters on his mind; he then called for a messenger to send word for Ulthane Black, the eldest and largest of the Black Brothers. The scrawny boy bowed before leaving in quite the hurry, knowing it would behoove him to not keep the good King waiting long. Before long, a series of thundering footsteps were heard as a giant of a man entered the throne room. Standing at almost eight feet tall, his limbs and torso were a few times thicker than an average man's body, every inch covered in simple blue robes. Calluses and scars covered his fingers and hands, evidence of his skill and years as a metal-smith. Dull brown eyes peered at the King from beneath pronounced ocular ridges, his squared jaw covered in an unruly red beard meeting up with his equally shaggy red hair on his head. A flattened, downward-pointed nose rested in the middle of his face, giving him a rather 'unique' appearance. A hammer as big as he was was slung across his back; it was often rumored that Ulthane was the spawn of an Orc and a human, given his brutish mannerisms, unrelenting durability in combat and very off-putting appearance.

"Ah, what d'ya want, Your Majesty?" Ulthane asked his 'Lord' in a slightly irritated tone, his accent resembling that of a Scotsman. "You know why I summoned you here, Ulthane.....The weapon....." Richard started to say, but Ulthane cut him off, "Ah, shove off with that, would ya? We're working as fast as we can......" At this several Knights drew their swords, clearly irked at the disrespectful tone. Ulthane just chuckled, saying as he took his hammer into his hands "You think you can hurt me with those butter spreaders? You're welcome to give a try...." Richard however stood up and proclaimed, "Enough! Guards, lower your weapons! You as well, Ulthane! I will not have human blood shed in my throne room! Especially not by any of you!" There was a long moment of contention as Ulthane and the Knights of the Court stared each other down, but finally they disengaged.

"Ulthane...Just tell me, when will it be ready?" Richard then asked exasperatedly, his face showing the strains of trying to keep his kingdom from falling apart; Ulthane smirked and replied, "A couple more days....Just workin' out a few little chinks, is all" And with that, Ulthane left to return to his work; he had a family to feed, and he wasn't going to make his share standing here yapping away. That was him, though: Short and to the point. After that subsided, Richard then began making preparations to send an envoy to the Elven Kingdom to cease the hostilities between them.

As all this was going on, a group of young boys were being trained in the skills of swordsmanship; they naturally used ones made of wood, as it would be far too dangerous to use steel blades. Patrolling around the groups of practicing prospective knights was one Sir Trystram Delyens, Head Paladin of the highest Order of Chivalry at the Court of King Richard - The Inner Circle. He was only one of ten, but he was the leader of the most talented brotherhood of Knights to ever grace the Kingdom of Man. His skill with a sword, especially the longsword, was unmatched - at least, as far as anyone could tell.

His strong fingers brushed aside shoulder-length ginger locks as he scanned the group, his hazel hues looking over each young Knight-to-be's form and technique; they may be Knights-in-training, but this was more than that. They were looking for those who might be considered worthy to someday join the Inner Circle itself. And to that end, each of the eight boys here trained their minds and bodies to be able to adapt to almost any combat situation on the field.

Of them, one stood out: An orphan, surprisingly enough. Trystram had taken this boy under his wing after having seen him save a young girl from a vicious boar that had broken free from one of the farms. If there was one thing that the Inner Circle prided itself on, it was fearlessness and courage. Protecting those who could not protect themselves, no matter the cost. The boy - one Abel Dosar - was a bastard child, and a bit slow when it came to learning the finer aspects of swordsmanship, but he tried his hardest and proved himself to be very capable. But, he still had a ways to go; the quality that made him stand out though, was his persistence. Whereas the other children would give up rather quickly, Abel somehow found the tenacity and persistence to keep going, no matter how skilled his opponent was.

Abel was also an unusual child in other respects: His hair was white as a dove's feather and his eyes silver like the polished steel of a sword. Very unusual physiological traits for a human; however, what the boy looked like was of little concern to Trystram. The fact was this boy of sixteen years age had potential, and if he could just work it out of him, the Head Paladin knew young Abel would make himself into a fine warrior.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 1, 2012

Green orbs look upon the sight of the kind and a servant boy speaking. Elongated pointed ears listen intently on the facts. So much goes on. So little she has seen. Eyes and a golden mane that spoke true of who her father was. A tongue as sharp as her mother's that very few have heard and a voice that chimed like a soft sweet symphony. Yet again, the young girl had managed to elude the guards and her pedagogue in a tactical manner that she, herself, was very proud of. To not have seen her father for a few days weighed heavily upon her shoulders. He was a king and she had learned that he played a greater role to her kin than being just her father. She easily understood. Some nights, as she slept, he would visit her. She knew because he always left an alstroemeria on her side table. A flower that bloomed early to mid summer. One of her favorites.

She could not help but listen upon where her father spoke of. Why did he hate the human's so much? Her pedagogue, Miss Helena, had spoken of them with equal disdain and sometimes, pity. She knew of how the noble blood line carried special abilities that they inherited long ago from their ancient Fae relations that the rest of the Elven population did not acquire, or have long since lost. A very few non elves have seen the High Elf, let alone his precious daughter. Her kin guarded the sanctity of their bloodlines with zealous care. The Silver Guard had yet to affirm her father's one and only choice of an heir to the throne. Should they deem her unworthy, her uncle carried noble blood and could be granted the, should the worst happen to her father. As the young elven princess grows she will show her abilities in due time.

The Silver Guard is comprised of the seven Noble Houses of the Elves and is an oversight governing body that advises the Monarch. Each House is granted one member to sit on the Silver Guard, usually the eldest member of the Bloodline. They are those of the eldest and most revered bloodlines of the elves, each representing a different virtue the elves hold dear. Each is also known for their excellence in a particular field and members of each House are considered masters of those subjects: Strength, Truth, Justice, Wisdom, Loyalty, Honor, Steadfastness. At times such as these they spent most of their time discussing plans with the other people they shared lands with. Most especially, the humans.

On bare feet, she walked back. No doubt a scolding would be awaiting upon her return. Emerald eyes looked upon the ivory skin of her arm. She had fallen and met a nasty blow with a sharp rock. The gash that was once there was no where to be found. It was a feat she would have happily bragged about to Miss Helena and her mother, but that would be farthest from their minds when she returned to her chambers once more. She held onto her slippers, so as not to make any noise. "Eola Raina Sylvari." Her heart sunk. Only one person would speak her name in its entirety and that was her mother: Queen Araana Miriel Sylvari. Halfway back to her destination and the lithe elven maiden had been caught red handed by her own mother. "Eola, you must not run off like that." Eola's eyes grew wide and a hand fiddled with her golden ear cuff.

"Motha." She spoke softly. A fan of lashes lowered as she avoided the disappointed gaze from her mother. A tall beautiful elf with a touch so soft and tongue so lethal. Hazel eyes glaring down upon the young girl with a force that made her daughter wish for a quick physical discipline, just to get it over with. Even worse. Miss Helena would express her disappointment, but it would bare no resemblance to the weight that her mother's had put upon her heart.

Meanwhile High Elf King Otho Sylvari relayed his message to his emissary, Degon. It was suggested that a mage be sent as well, even if it was just student. Otho decided against it. There was no need for a mage when only delivering a message. Within moments, Degon was gone. Clad in forest green and the silver of his light armor. Now all King Otho had to do... was wait. His least favorite things to do.

Razgriz · Jul 9, 2012

With that bit of business now concluded and no casualties to have to clean up after, Richard dismissed everyone but his advisory committee and arranged for his best emissary, Lucius, to be sent to the prearranged meeting place. After a heated argument with said advisers to include a guard detail, Richard used his infinite authority to announce that such a thing was unnecessary. The emissary would be plainly clothed - though there would be armor beneath the dusty cotton robes - and riding an unmarked horse; on top of that, he would be packing very lightly, making him a very unappealing target for raiders or those who might seek to undermine the integrity of this treaty. Within the hour, Lucius was sent off; it would be some time before they heard from him. Richard could only wait and hope that this attempt at forging a peaceful contract would work, else they might be headed for a very costly war.

Elsewhere, young Abel was working the stable of Trystram's horse Valor, as was part of his duty as a Squire. He had to do the dirty work, but he by no means took pleasure in doing it. He personally saw horses as unruly creatures that served no useful purpose, despite what others might have thought. Sure, one could ride them into battle or across vast distances and have a significant speed advantage, but what of a man's own two legs? Was that not good enough? Still, he held his tongue lest it get him into trouble before he completed his task; Lord knows that's happened to him more often than not. Whether it was back-sassing an elder or a verbal retort to the other unwashed children who formed small raiding gangs, his harsh words could and often did get him into quite a situation.

And ironically, despite being under the care of someone so high up the aristocratic ladder, the streets were where he felt the most comfortable; perhaps it was because he'd grown up there for so long by himself, that he simply integrated the unspoken rules into his nature. And perhaps, that 'weakness' of being a street rat was the source of tenacity that gave him the edge he needed to compete with the seven others working under the masters of the Inner Circle. But he was the underdog, the one no one expected to make it through; the rest were well-groomed sons of nobility, he'd show them just what a street-rat could do. That all their 'perfection' and 'purity of blood' meant little when it came to skill; one thing Trystram had hammered into Abel's was that no one was born a master swordsman, a master knight. It required hard work and perseverance, and that's what it all boiled down to.

But if there was one thing that struck his curiosity, it was this current conflict between the other races. To be honest, Abel had little knowledge of the current situation; all that he did know for certain was that there was a lot of bad blood between the Elves and Humans, along with other minor races. He'd tried to ask about it, but he never really got answers that he thought were clear. There had been a lot of fighting over territory and the like, but the child had yet to understand the true nature of the conflict between these two major races.

Abel had never seen an Elf with his own two eyes; he had however, seen an artist's depiction of one. A female, given that the Elf in question had breasts; he was caught surprised by the presence of long, pointed ears. There were certainly some strange creatures out there; he'd originally thought the large blacksmith was a giant, but the large man merely laughed at his naivete and told him that he was just born larger. His old home of Knavesmire allowed him some sightings of Dwarves; he too found those creatures odd. Human-like, but much shorter and from what he'd heard, some of the most skilled blacksmiths this world had ever seen.

It was here that Abel realized he was getting off-track and hurriedly finished cleaning and grooming the four-legged beast; after that was done, he returned to Trystram's quarters, where his next and final task awaited him: Polishing the Head Paladin's armor. He'd cleaned it several times, but it still was one of the things that put Abel into a state of awe. He had a secret desire to put it on, just to try it; he knew, however, that a harsh punishment awaited him should he be caught doing something so brash. After removing the cape attached to the shoulders by unfastening the shoulder brackets, he took the vial of polish and set to work.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 10, 2012

High Elf Sylvari would not be able to breath a sigh of relief until his emissary returned with, hopefully, good news. For a moment he second guessed himself and thought of sending a mage to follow suit, but decided against it. All that could be tended to was done. A good rest was much needed, if it could be gained.

Meanwhile in a different part of the keep Eola stood upon a balcony, overlooking the front gates of the grounds and her lips parted in silent awe as an elf with fine long silver hair that almost match that of his beautiful stallion, rode off clad in their kin's colors. "Sir Deon." She whispered beneath her breath. The princess had only heard tales of his valor and witnessed his charming disposition first hand. Not all negotiations went as planned and, though seldom, action needed to be taken. If her father called upon Deon, personally... it had to be important. Eola, like her father, only wished for the best outcome.

His orders were clear. Lay out the details for their end of the contract and have the human king informed. No one would stand in his way of this venture. Though without conflict to bring to peace, his job would have little purpose, but he was sick of feuding with the humans. He did not like them. Oh no, far from it, he hated them. That, however, did not justify blood shed. This feud was almost as old as the land itself. Wars here and there. On and off. Humans we ignorant, he deemed that true, like so many others of his kin, but this feud was getting them no where. The white stallion rode with a purpose at his companion's guide. To the bridge over Whiterun Creek was their destination. And open land where and ambush was nearly impossible.

There was quite a ways to go for the elf. Halfway to his destination something startled his horse and an arrow just barely grazed his cheek. The horse reared, nearly tossing it's master to the hard ground beneath them. A hand rested upon the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at the first sign of anyone. It took a moment to calm the animal down. When no one appeared he rode off at a break neck pace. A thin line of blood appearing on his right cheek. There was no time for assumptions, nor a man hunt. The task at hand was too important to wander off the beaten path out of curiosity.

Thankfully his shield was strapped to his back because as he rode on he felt a thud upon his back. An arrow lodged into the thick wooden shield. Whoever they were the cowards were not going to face him on, but would rather shoot from behind. His thought were abruptly cut short when a tall figure shrouded in a cloak waved a wooden staff in the air with a gloved hand and whispered a few words and a slash appeared on his shoulder, then just above his boot and ripped his tunic across the side. The rip to the tunic did not make it to the skin. The spell was amateurish at best.

Distance was his best play. He sent the horse running faster until he was sure they had gained a great distance. They were not too far from their final destination. One hand rested upon the stallion and the other, ready at the hilt of his sword. He smelled foul play and would not be caught off guard. He had to be prepared for what could lay ahead. Could they truly trust the humans to keep to the peace that this meeting called for? Blue eyes glance over his shoulder and saw no sign of anything.

Razgriz · Jul 10, 2012

(Figured we'd cut over to the emissaries for a couple of posts, then get back to our characters and factions. Hope that's OK)

King Richard finally was allowed after more orders to leave his throne room; many things were set in motion, but most importantly was the success of the peace negotiations. Neither Kingdom could afford to undertake such a war; however, if the Elves were unwilling to cooperate, then no choice would be had other than to fight. He retreated to his quarters and laid down to rest his body and mind after changing into night-clothes; while it wasn't full darkness yet, the orange-yellow of dusk began to make itself known in the sky as the sun descended below the horizon. The rest of Evugid began to close up as well; torches were extinguished, shop doors locked down, and people turning in for the night.

Abel, meanwhile, cleaned his master's armor meticulously, the rag cleansing the thin layer of dust and cobwebs, among other things, and making the metal shine like silver. The other Knights of the Inner Circle had armor like this, only there was no cape and they lacked the golden insets on the shoulders, chest, hips, wrists and knees. The armor of the Head Paladin was quite something, easily distinguishing the wearer from any other. While Abel still wasn't quite ready for something like joining the Inner Circle or even becoming a Knight in general, he'd always sought a way to get himself off of the streets and into a more.....'luxurious' life. And if that meant a little extra elbow grease, then so be it. He'd had to work when he was a young street rat in Knavesmire, with all the running and evading capture after thieving, so he was no stranger to physical exertion.

He stepped back after giving the left forearm gauntlet a final rubdown with the polish; to say that the armor shined would be understating it. It was immaculate, not a speck of dirt or dust to be on any one part or sampling of its hardened surface. He felt strangely proud of himself; ironically, Trystram had always said a man should feel proud of a hard day's work. Abel usually just let it in one ear and flow out the other, but now he kind of understood what his master was talking about.

Lucius rode hard and fast, trying to reach the location where hopefully peace negotiations would go smoothly. Lucius, like many of the humans, was revolted by these pointy-eared savages. No technology, and every time humanity tried to expand its empire, the Elves got all up in arms because they were trampling over something that they considered "holy". What wasn't holy to them? A human couldn't so much as throw a stick without it crushing a strand of sacred grass; hell, they'd be mad at them for just throwing the stick in the first place.

Lucius shook his head free of the thoughts that made his blood boil; he needed to try and be level-headed. This was a peace negotiation after all, and he knew Richard would not be pleased to hear they'd failed because of his prejudice towards the Elves. However, he would soon find himself in a precarious situation; a titanic warhammer came crashing down in front of Lucius, the pommeled handle sticking straight up from the ground and causing the horse he rode on to rear up. "Whoa, whoa, easy, Gloria, easy girl" Lucius said, trying to calm the panicked nag.

"Hahaha, stupid human all alone" a gravely voice barked; the source soon revealed itself: An Orc raiding band, composed of three warriors. Each had dark-green/gray skin, teeth that seemed filed to points, gleaming red eyes, and what seemed like an infinite amount of muscle clothed in dirtied brown cloth. Just one was bad enough, but three? Lucius was barely armed as it was, possessing only a small dagger strapped to his right thigh. The one in the middle - easily the largest of the three - stepped forward and reclaimed the dull-colored iron hammer, resting the shaft on his thickly veined shoulder. "Damn it to hell" Lucius thought before trying to lie his way out of having to fight them, "What would you have with me, Orcs? I have nothing of value".

The Orc on the left laughed, replying, "Stupid human says nothing of value. Horse is value, give us horse and maybe you live to see sky-light rise again. Horse meat best meat". Lucius was quite surprised at the demand, and even more so when his companions affirmed it with grunts of approval. If there was one way, though, to get rid of Orcs, it was by appealing to their greed and general lack of empathy for the well-being of their own kind. Richard had planned for a scenario like this to happen, and gave Lucius several bags of gold coin. The emissary reached down to his thigh and unstrapped one of the cloth sacks; the Orcs didn't so much as twitch, except for the one on the right, who cocked his thickly-skinned head in mild curiosity. When the sight of the bag and jingle of coin was seen and heard, the Orcs seemed to tense up, as if knowing what lay within.

"This is gold, it's yours if you let me go". Without giving the beasts a chance to reply, Lucius then loosened the tie and tossed it, letting the contents spill everywhere. Shiny gold coins spilled everywhere; it wasn't but a blink's worth of time that chaos erupted. The Orcs dove forward, each trying to grab as much as they could for themselves before turning on their brethren to rob them of their share. Lucius used the distraction to his advantage and bolted, pushing his horse faster and faster until the raiding band was out of sight. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rode on, glad to have gotten out an Orc encounter unscathed, knowing the stories of those who were far less fortunate.

He eventually made it to the bridge over Whiterun Creek, having suffered no other encounters than the Orc raiders. He arrived at the Bridge, shedding his plainclothes to reveal the emissary armor he wore beneath. Nothing much, a silvered chest-plate bearing a golden cross, with plates covering his forearms, thighs and shins. Why they chose such an open location such as this was, in his mind, idiotic. Damn Elves and their 'oneness with nature'. Or however the pointy-eared bastards put it. And so Lucius sat and waited for the Elven emissary to arrive, and that was IF he was going to show up at all.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 14, 2012

High Elf Otho was slightly rattled on the inside. Oh how things would go so much easier if those damn humans agreed to the terms and that would be one massive tension off of his mind. Damn pompous thing thought themselves holier than the earth that they walked upon. The King walked the halls with guards on his tail as he walked towards his daughter's study room and peered pass the cracked door with a smile. The only thing to make him smile this entire day. His princess of a daughter needed concentration for the future of their kin and kingdom. It seemed like everyday she seemed to grow more and more. How hard he had fought to keep her away from the horrible influence that was those wretched humans and he had done so far, so good. Watching his daughter, in the midst of her studies proved a great little escape from the pressure waiting for a reply from his emissary for a brief moment.

Degon wasted no time when he arrived at the meeting point with two more arrows lodged in the wooden shield upon his back. He wasn't sure just who was making such a feeble attempt at his life, but he would not be surprised if it were the those damn dwarves. Their little feet could not keep up with his stallion, but their mechanical skills were certainly something to both fear and envy. He had the horse slow down to a steady trot as he caught sight of the human a little while back. The sight of his armor confirming his identity as the human emissary he was said to meet.

The simple sight of the human made him turn up a nose, but his duty was first and foremost at the front of his mind. As the horse neared the bridge, the elven knight took a moment to pluck three arrows from his wooden shield and toss them aside. The damage only blended into the well worn piece of weaponry that it had seen and dark hateful eyes looked up the human in silence, for but a moment.

"Let us not waste time with this, human.", the word dripping with utter disdain as it left his lips. "I am Sir Degon Balthazar, her on behalf of High Elf Sylvari." The elf was not ready to leave his horse, just yet. He did not trust the human and there for would not let his guard down. Still, there was not much he could do from the back of his horse so slowly he slid down from the back of his stallion and stayed closed at his side. Hand resting upon the hilt of his dagger should any sudden moves be made. It was not his true intention to kil the human. Yes, he disliked them, but did not necessarily wish them all dead.

Razgriz · Jul 14, 2012

Trystram, ironically, was watching young Abel work so hard; the young boy had certainly a fine apprentice. Not quite on the same level as the others in terms of swordsmanship or the manners and etiquette expected for a Knight, for his manner of speaking was still somewhat crude and he still struggled with certain aspects of swordplay. Still, he was certainly not afraid to tell someone off, be they human or elf, man or woman. Trystram still remembered when the good Princess Miriam had lashed out at Abel for accidentally bumping into him, and boy did Abel let her have it; the poor thing looked like she was going to faint. Young Abel had plenty of backbone for one so early in years, but there was time to refine that particular personality "flaw" of him. And he was a hard worker, so there was a good chance that under Trystram's guidance, Abel might someday make it to the Inner Circle.

Still, the good Knight had noticed the rising tension between the Elven and Human Kingdoms; even though he didn't want to admit it, he somehow knew that they would soon be headed for war. It was one that neither could afford, and both Kingdoms knew it; that was the main reason that only minor skirmishes occurred between them. But unless the peace negotiations went through flawlessly, Trystram saw no other alternative. Neither side gave so much as an inch of consideration to the other, there was no nudge room. The escalating friction had to blow its lid at some point, and Trystram feared that the time was nearing more rapidly than he would have liked. He decided to sit down and have a talk with Abel about this.

As Abel stood back up to admire his work, the Head Paladin opened the door and said quite calmly, "I don't my armor has ever shone that brightly in years, Abel. Splendid work". The young boy jumped at hearing his master's voice, having not expected it in the slightest, holding a hand to help calm his racing heart as he turned to face the valorous Knight. "Good lord, Sire, you scared me half to death". Trystram chuckled and replied, "Apologies, Abel. Just wanted to ensure everything was well".

Abel noticed that his master seemed troubled; he couldn't help but ask, "Sir, is something the matter?" Trystram sighed and motioned for Abel to sit on the stool he'd been working on before seating himself on the bed. "Abel, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but things have been tense around here lately. I believe something very bad is going to happen soon; do you....have any knowledge of the Elven Kingdom?". Abel shook his head; this made Trystram realize that there was much to discuss.

Lucius sneered as the Elf acknowledged his presence in such a disrespectful manner; how dare this abomination talk to him so crassly, as if he were so superior. Elves were nothing but scum, flower kissers that held a funeral procession for every blade of grass that was trampled. Sniveling braggarts, the whole lot of them. But there was a time and place for a duel to take place, and this was certainly not it.

"And I am Sir Lucius Beauregard II, emissary to His Highess King Richard III, sent here to discuss a negotiation for peace" he replied, somehow managing to keep his seething rage in check. The small half-cloak buckled over his shoulders was swung aside to reveal that he too was armed. Now that they both understood that neither would tolerate any fool-hardy attacks, they could get to the heart of the matter.

Lucius then spoke, "Let me ask you, Elf, just what is it that you want?" He paused, then added as he tried to direct the conversation the way he wanted it to go, "Actually no, let's deal with this issue by issue. First, the issue of territory. You must understand that our cities need to grow to accommodate our growing populations; and yet you and your kind vehemently block expansions of any towns under our control. No expansions would incur on Elven territory, so why is it that you halt our progress so?"

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 15, 2012

"Princess Sylvari?" A stern voice sounding towards the princess as she sat in a chair with green eye gazing outside of the nearest porthole window. "Princess Eola. Eola!" The loud voice caught the young elven noble's attention with a startling result as her eyes grew wide and pink lips sat agape as she focused on her mentor.
"I am sorry Miss Helena." She started off. A eyes looked down upon the parchment that lay before her. A scroll written with their elven history upon it. By Eola was sure she could recited the darn thing by heart if she wanted to.

Miss Helena saw something different in the princess than she had in other people of their kind. Princess Eola was open and kind. Adventurous and bold. "You will make a fine ruler one day, my dear. But for now, you must concentrate. You may never know what will happen under your ruling and it is our job to prepare you..."

"For war?" Eola intervened. Her eye turned to the porthole window once more. "Why do we fight with the humans so much Miss Helena? Is it because we look different or because we simply have different views and do not agree?" A serious look was cast at her moderator and for once... she was speechless. What was she to tell the princess? The humans were the scum of the earth that lay waste to precious lands without a second thought? That the humans breed like wild rabbits with no respect for the forests and lands that many creatures call home?
"We simply do not agree. The humans... they..." A sigh of defeat was relinquished from the plump lady that sat before the princess.
"Often times... I do not agree with you, Miss Helena, but I do not wish to spill your blood." A simple observation from the young girl. A wise one that very few would acknowledge. There was so much that she had to learn of the human world. Some would have to be learned first hand, but that time would not come until a time of bloodshed would come to a pass.

Degon's anger was just barely managed at the human's poor choice of words. but the task had to be done. "You may not encroach upon our land, but what of others? You tare down other lands to expand your own. Di you know what other things you disturb by expanding? Sacred burial grounds you may not know of, Keep your women's legs closed and perhaps you need not worry about expanding lands. Driving the hags and the wolves from their homes to seek shelter some place else. Can you not build down. as the dwarves do? I've seen rabbits with smaller litters than your kind. What are you doing? Building an army? What plans have you for these new lands? Homes? More businesses?" Degon was starting to get antsy with this task and his tongue loosened up a bit more than he should have allowed.

Razgriz · Jul 17, 2012

"What is it of the Elven Kingdom that you wish me to know, Sir?" Abel asked, feeling his curiosity rise as his master seemed to hold back the information in a highly suspenseful manner. "Many things, Abel, some of which you are too young to understand. I have only visited their Outer Territories as a diplomatic missionary, but the way they live......Sometimes I wish we humans could adapt at least some of their ways. Then none of this tension would exist. True co-existence could be attained". Abel cocked his head in confusion, clearly lost as to the message his master was trying to convey. "Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand, just what is it that's going on?" the young boy then asked.

Trystram sighed and replied, "If there's been one cause for many wars, Abel, it's been not for territory or power, but merely a difference in ideologies. Many humans view the Elves as a restrictive species; we seek to expand, to explore. To go where no one has gone before and conquer it. An admirable goal, that much is certain, but we always seem to be treading on someone's toes. And more often than not, it's the Elves" Abel nodded in understanding, "That's what I've heard, Sir, from people who speak of the Elves. A downright nasty bunch, that's what they sound like."

Trystram then said, in a slightly raised tone, "No, Abel. You will not think like that; we may not be entirely at fault, but it takes two halves to make a whole. I won't have my only successor thinking like them There's already too much bad blood as it is!" Abel retreated; in truth, his master scared him a little when he got upset. The good Paladin noticed this and said, "Now, Abel, listen to me and do so very carefully. People spread rumors, it's the natural human condition; however, as a Knight, it is your duty to without question, see things for what they truly are and not what they seem to be". Trystram sighed once more and added, "It takes effort, and you are still young, but you must try to pull back the veil and see what things are at their core".

Abel then asked, "Then why, Sir, why is everyone so hating on the Elves if we are partially to blame for the situation?" Trystram smiled; Abel just made an astounding observation. One that he already knew of, but was proud of the boy for noticing. "The answer is not clear, but I believe that it boils to a mere difference of ideals. Remember, if one were to look closely at the past battles, territory and power were not the main goals of their starts". Abel then realized something; were they headed for war? "Sir, are we....." "Yes, Abel, I believe war is upon is very soon. I myself may have to enter it; it will be a costly and brutal conflict, but one that I see as being inevitable"

Lucius snarled and placed his right hand on his dagger, yet did not remove it from its holster. "Best you mind your tongue, Sir Degon, lest you find it detached from that putrid swamphole you call a mouth!" he growled at the Elven emissary. "Humans should not have to be restricted, yet because of your restrictions and unprovoked attacks against our outer lying colonies, we are forced to inhabit and tame areas that are virtually inhospitable! It is because of humans that exploration has become possible. Because we sacrifice our blood and strength to forge pathways to new lands. We do not sit in one place like the Elves and the Fae, fearing to venture beyond the borders of the green!"

"And as for the hags and the wolves, the former is nothing but a blight to both Elves and humans alike! Their dark illusory magics only seek to destroy both species; you of all people should know what a hag is capable, Degon! And wolves are not an issue, for humans have forged a pact with them! In exchange for our protection and shelter, they help us hunt game! Tell me that is not 'cooperating with nature', as you Elves put it!"

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 18, 2012

Miss Helena seemed to be having a bit of a problem separating her distaste for the humans from the facts that the princess sought. Queen Araana had been standing in the doorway for most of the awkward moment and made a move to intervene. "Give us a moment Helena, I need to speak with my daughter for a moment." The young elven princess turned her head from the sight of her instructor at the sound of her mother's lovely familiar voice. Both nobles watched as the portly elf dismissed herself in a calmly fashion, leaving both mother and daughter alone. Calm hazel eyes looked at the young owner of the emerald eyes with the same golden locks adoring her head.

Eola remained in her chair as her mother took one at her side and looked at her daughter with a warm smile. "Eola. Eola Raina Sylvari. My daughter, what you say is true. Human's kill as do we. Not all elves are as true and noble as we perceive ourselves to be. There are criminals and evil ones amongst all races. The humans... the humans are venturesome and eager for knowledge. Most mean no harm, just as we do not when we hunt the forests for new herbs to study and harvest." The look upon her daughter's face told her that Eola's mind was working to see the conclusion to this conversation and the reason for bringing up such a topic.

Motherly instincts had her hugging her daughter tightly, wishing to never let her go. "Form your own opinions. Never base your opinions off of anyone elses and one person's actions does not speak for their entire kind. Promise me you will remember that my love." The queen had a foreboding feeling that was none too good. Her instinct were well on point. Never specific, but very reliable. Somehow, she knew it was big enough that it could entail her daughter and had an inkling as to what it could be.

"Mother, I have not seen a human. At lease... I do not think I have." She concentrated and ran her thoughts. She had seen them... in books. Of course. " I promise, mother." Eola knew her mother was hiding something, but she would not probe her mother of such knowledge. Best bet, she would find out on her own. Queen Araana smiled and gave a sigh of relief as hazel eyes looked upon the sight of her little princess. Now... back to your studies, and be easy on Miss Helena." She gave her daughter a kiss upon the nose and left with a little laugh to have a word with her husband.

The elve's blood was coming to a boil beneath his skin as he grew fed up with the human his hand gripped at the hilt of his own dagger. A hard and shaky grip. "You carved a place for your savage race now you only wish to infest it further. You explore so much, then explore new ways to tame those seeming uninhabitable places. And you, you weak minded whelp, will take that land with the wolves, and then what stops your from moving on from there and there and there! Everything has its place! You disturb the balance and have no idea what shifts you create. Because your kind does not THINK!" Neither was going to budge on the matter.

"We get no where with this human. The dagger was unsheathed and twirled in his fingers with little skill required. A silent threat and something to calm his nerves. He was but a hair's breath from slitting this human's throat from ear to ear. "You can not leave well enough alone? Can you human?"

Razgriz · Jul 19, 2012

Lucius had had enough of this Elf's vile tongue; his hand grasped the handle of his dagger and drew it swiftly, though with less style than the Elf and more sheer force, ready to fight as well. "Thrice damned forest dweller! You dare call us savages, when your kind had laid waste to our towns in order to protect your damned forests! It is you that does not think, that upsets the natural order of the world! The strong should not cater to the weak!" He readied himself, in case Degon made the first move. "I would say the same of you, Elf. Your kind just doesn't know the meaning of cessation, do they?"

Of course, it seemed that both had become fairly hot-headed, as was to be expected. Both were equally unfit for the job of negotiating peace; despite the sharpness of their tongues and cleverness of the mind, their seething hatreds for one another served to impede any degree of measurable progress. Little did anyone foresee what would happen next.........

*Four days later....*

Over the next four days, King Richard was growing more and more concerned; by the fourth day, King Richard was a mess. Lucius should have returned with news yesterday at the latest. It wasn't like the Royal Emissary to be gone for so long like this; the man knew how important this decision was, and knew the consequences well enough to not leave the King waiting. So what could possibly be Lucius' otherwise speedy return to the King to deliver the fate of the negotiations? Richard had several ideas floating around in his head, most of which revolved around Elven assassins slaying his emissary and somehow turning it on the humans.

So he did what he thought was best: He called in several of his knights to form them into a scouting party and investigate why Lucius hadn't returned to Evugid yet. "I would suggest checking the old bridge that was built over Whiterun Creek; that was where the meeting was supposed to take place with the Elven emissary. If there's any place to start looking, that would be it. I don't need to remind you of just how dangerous it is over there; that bridge is built so that exactly half lies on either side's territory. You'll be fairly close to the Elves, so watch yourselves. Go with God, and do not return until you have found Lucius". A collective, "Yes, Your Highness!" was heard and the Knights left with the wind beneath their feet to get to their horses and ride out, leaving the stress-filled King to wait some more.

It would take almost half a day to ride to the Whiterun Creek bridge; however, when they got there, they found two bodies lying on the ground. The Knights dismounted their horses, their armor shining in the midday sun as they approached the scene. Red pools laying semi-moist on the wood of the bridge, both faces pale from the touch of Death himself. "Lord have mercy, is that...." one knight said, another adding, "That's Lucius. Look, the Royal Seal is on his armor. The other has to be the Elven Emissary, or an impostor that Lucius managed to kill" However, what was really interesting was how the bodies were situated; each body lay on its side, the head of one laying closest to the feet of the other. Each had a hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of the dagger buried in the other's chest, their respective knuckles blanched from the force of the grip. "Those damn Elves......Lucius was a good friend of mine! I'll make those bastards pay!" the scout team leader said, his helmet hiding the expression of unbridled rage hidden beneath.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 19, 2012

Everyday since the knight had left upon his gorgeous stallion the princess had ears out for his arrival, hoping it would bring great news. He she, though isolated as she was, felt the tension mounting in the walls. After the talk with her mother, she had a feeling that something big was going to happen. Her father hand not left her a flower the past few nights and that was never a good sign. He was busy and distracted and set off a whole chain reaction within the walls of his own home. Little did anyone know that the elven emissary that so many adored lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

King Otho had hardly slept these few day, which felt like months at this point. His temper had gotten the better of him on the occasion and he tried desperately to keep it under control. At one point he had even managed to snap at his wife. He thanked the heavens soon afterwards that she was an understanding woman who held no grudges and only saw the best in people, and nearly beat himself to death, mentally, after that horrid moment when he realized he needed to get his act together. He took his place upon the throne, where his beloved wife awaited him, always at his side. A small group of his best soldiers were call forth with the council in witness. Several of the head nobles arguing across the room. "Damn Humans! I told you we should not have bothered trying a truce!"

"I do not know who is a fault for Degon going missing, or even if he is missing to begin with you old fart!" The silver haired even woman dawned in her green robes as she jabbed her staff and pointed it across the room. " Degon was no fool, he would not keep us waiting, you hagraven!"

"Enough!!" King Sylvari's voice boomed throughout the room, demanding attention and the cease of all arguments. "To Whiterun Bridge. We know not what has happened to Sir Degon and will have an answer soon. Do not keep me waiting any longer than necessary. That should go without saying." He dare not lay out his assumption o the table of the nobles would erupt into their own debates once more. He sent his best. If Degon was, the heavens forbid, taken out. He would think upon the worst case scenario for now. The knights bent on knee before their High Elf and his Queen until they were dismissed. With great haste the armor clad elves collected their horses and any further weapons and were on their way to the destination. Nothing along the pathway taken had hinted at a struggle of any sort. With a keen eye one of the knights had caught sight Degon's horse and a few got on foot to look for his master and when nothing was found they proceeded and when they neared the bridge the sight that greeted them was none too pleasing. Several drew their swords and approached with caution. One slim knight hopped off the back of her auburn mare and approached the scene with a gasp as she knelt at Degon's side.

Taking her helmet off out of respect and allowing her hazel eyes to look upon the horrid sight. Gloved fingers closed the emissary's pale eyes as she uttered a few words while her companions shook with anger and kept their conduct in line. "What have you done!?" The leading knight roared. Chest puffing out as he took massively deep breaths to keep him from slaying the humans here they stood. "You know what this means..." One elven knight spoke to another as her lifted the visor of his helmet. "War." Another spoke.

The female knight laid Degon upon his back. The worst had been thought of and a long cloth had been brought and a few straps of rope. They would not leave their brother to die in the presence of a human. He died doing his duty and would be given the burial he deserved. The would look forward to meeting them on the battlefield to avenge their friend.

Razgriz · Jul 19, 2012

The Human scouts looked up to see the Elves approaching just as they removed the hand firmly holding Lucius' dagger from Degon's chest, crossing the messenger's arms over his chest and gently closing his still-open eyes; while one was tending to Lucius' cold, pale corpse the others stood up and formed a wall, lest these forest-dwelling heathens try anything. Even as the Elves mourned their fallen emissary, the humans remained alert, watching the pointy-eared halflings with nothing but sheer contempt in their eyes. One of the knights When asked what it is they had done, the leader of the scout party, one Sir Charles Fergant, removed his own helmet, revealing a taut-cheeked face and golden, shoulder-length locks. His hazel hues peered at the female Elf who called them out and listened with wordless rage as her companions told them that this meant war.

"You're damn right it means war, Elves! Your emissary will be the start of this chaos, so it will him you have to thank when we decimate your lands!" Charles shouted back. Another knight then added, "How dare you accuse us of treachery, when it was clearly that one's...." he stopped and drew his sword, pointing the shining blade at Degon's lifeless body, "own stupidity and callousness for attacking a messenger of peace!" "That's just like your kind, isn't it? You seize any opportunity to kill a human without any regards to the consequences! Let's see how you like it when we butcher every last man, woman and child in the Elven lands!" A third, younger and admittedly more hot-headed Knight then shouted; he too was a friend of Lucius. Beneath his shining helmet, his eyes cried tears of sadness and frustration; he then wrenched the enemy emissary's dagger from Lucius' heart and threw it, the shining Elven weapon skittering to a halt just before the female Elf Knight.

(Sorry for the shortness, couldn't think of much else to add since this is a minor confrontation of mostly words)

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 20, 2012

Sir Andol Black-Briar stayed mounted upon his horse at the forefront of the party and watched as his female companion Elena dealt with their comrade's body and the dagger that the human threw landed before her. Elena paid the ignorant humans no heed while Sir Black Briar was about a hairs breath from throwing his own dagger at the center of the weak human's face, but that would not get them anywhere, nor was it part of the code that they upheld. Andol's knuckles grew white as he gripped tightly at the hilt of his dagger. "Your friend clearly could not control himself, and this is what it resulted in." His ears listened on to the ignorant humans words as it continued to speak in blasphemy. "Words can only get you so far, human." He was not about to waste his time arguing with the neanderthals. "I shall see you on the battlefield. You blood soaking the very land you tainted from the start. Bring your best... you will need it." Elena's hands ghosted over her deceased friend's wrapped corpse and he levitated with, what seemed like, ease. There was a bit of effort on her part and should her silent words be broken he would fall to the ground, but thankfully he was tied on the back of his own stallion.

The horse connected between two other horses, to keep it on track. The female elf soon mounted her own horse and Andol glared at the humans before spitting on the ground before them and charging off at the forefront of the party with the utmost of haste. A heavy sigh left his lips and eyes closed for the smallest of moments. This was a bad day for his kin. Even more so for the fallen emissary that brought so much hope. The King would be far from fond of this news.

King Sylvari waited on pins and needles for the scouting party to come back. Pacing back and forth before his throne. To antsy to even sit. A young servant ran inside as soon as the party had arrived back. "They are here, Your Highness!" The men and woman were none too far behind and one carried Degon's wrapped lifeless corpse and presented before their High Elf before bowing down on one knee before King Sylvari. Otho froze in his tracks in the center of the room and took a heavy breath through his nostrils. His glassy eyes watching as a dagger was placed upon the wrapped body, covered in dried blood. a dagger that The king, himself, had given to the trusted emissary. "Sir Black Briar... speak of your findings."

Andol looked up. His helm tucked beneath one arm as tousled silver tendrils just barely grazed his shoulders and sweat headed down his forehead. "We crossed the humans at the meeting sight. A scouting party, to my knowledge. Degon and the human, both lay dead upon the bridge. A dagger plunged into both. The human killed Degon and Degon killed him, you Majesty."

"There is no room for negotiations any longer. Blood has been spilled and I will not stand idly by until those savages around found standing at our front gates waiting to spread their well known destruction about. The council could not deny his words. "I had prayed that it would not come to this, but I will not take this lying on my back. Spread the men out, beyond the wall in the villages and near the border. Every mage is to be brought to my disposal and dispersed accordingly. Hurry!! Get in touch with the dwarves in the Resgard Caverns and see what last minute negotiations can be struck up. We need to at least be prepared." Otho's voice boomed as various people dispersed and a few knights took Degon's body to the courtyard and piled on a thick pedestal of fire logs and a his body was surrounded by offering and his sword stabbed into the ground with his helmet on top of it as the fire was magically lit and their dear friend was set to rest.

( No problem what so ever ^_^ I hope I did not jump the gun with this post.)

Razgriz · Jul 20, 2012

(Not in the slightest, my friend. This works out to be just dandy)

Charles watched contemptuously as the Elves rode off with their dead emissary wrapped up for whatever they did with their dead; a smirk crossed his face at the thought of how many times that would need to be done. He would make sure to kill ten Elves for every human that had fallen to their wretched hands; those heathens deserved that much, and justice for this atrocity would be done to those who had taken from them someone most precious. Not just to the King, but the former Lucius Beauregard II was a man to the people; his often eloquent speech captured the hearts and souls of men and women alike. The words would flow like fine wine, able to take even the dreariest of news and make it seem far less imposing. Charles helped hoist Lucius' corpse onto his own horse; the scout party then rode off to tell the King what had happened.

King Richard sat in his throne room, eagerly awaiting news; anything, even an inkling of what was going on. Suddenly, a page came in, shouting the scouting party had returned. Richard himself stood up, seeing the band of Knights enter the room, Charles himself carrying the body of his most trusted emissary. He'd felt like someone had shot him in the heart; the good King fell to his knees, a look of disbelief on his face. Lucius, friend and emissary to the King of Evugid, lay dead with his arms crossed over his chest, the royal induction dagger presented to him clutched between his hands with the blade facing towards his waist. "What happened?" Richard then demanded; Charles knelt before him, his helmet now on the floor beside his right foot as he replied, "It was the Elven emissary, Sire. Killed in cold blood he was. Those godless heathens murdered him for trying to help our nations avoid war! We cannot let this go unanswered!"

Richard straightened up, his tone less sad and now carrying far more determination behind every syllable, "No, we cannot. And we shall not! If it is war the Elves want, it is war the Elves shall have!" He then directed orders to those deemed worthy of carrying out the task. "Oswyn, prepare a burial service for Lucius. Have messages sent to his acquaintances and loved ones that he has passed away" he then directed to a brown-robe-clad, balding man; the bard bowed and left for his task. "Gerard, have messages sent out by carrier hawk to the other towns; war is upon us, and every citizen must be prepared for the worst". The man was then promptly dismissed to tend to his task; it would be quite the chore arranging for all these messages to be sent, but the glory of the King, he would get it done.

He then looked to Charles and said, "As for you, take your men and try to get in contact with the Dwarven Clans near the Fiery Plains; we're going to need their assistance. And be sure to inform King Orrin that we'll have supplies ready to treat his ailment". Charles then bowed, placing the helmet on his head and taking his men with him to do as the King asked. Richard would spend the next couple of hours getting messages out, having the Knights of Evugid arm themselves for battle, and making sure that all necessary supplies were stockpiled. Once it was all said and done, he was left alone for the moment; once the allegiances had been confirmed and everything else had been taken care of, then the real work would commence. Sitting with his advisers almost every waking hour of the day was not something he particularly looked forward to, but he knew the Elves were ready for war, which meant he had to be as well.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 21, 2012

Steel, stone, and hammer were working in a full tandem with the weapons and the armor. King Sylvari stood at the front of the circle table laying out plans of where to station small troops and planing out tactics with General Deadrik Mordyval. Another trusted companion of the Kings. Mages dispatched here and there to the surrounding village and near the border. One or two disguised as animals. A rare ability to pull off without a potion. A potion that was not easy to procure. Arrows were made and tips dipped in poison. At one point the King had lost his composure when the topic of necromancy was breached. The forbidden art. "That will not be used as long as I breath. You do not burden the dead with your problems." A few words of wisdom from the king as he loomed over the plans to prepare. The Queen worked on procuring the healers and gathering up the rations of herbs and making sure every possible potion that could aid in healing the wounded, was at hand. The less deaths, the better. On both sides, for her.

Princess Eola was whisked away to her bed chambers where she had taken her means and her studies. Miss Helena was a bundle of nerves. The young princess had attended Sir Degon's funeral with tears staining her cheeks until the precious girl passed out in the confines of her bed. No one would tell her how her hero figure had come to his demise. Only that he died with honor. The princess had no urge to leave the walls of her chambers, let alone the urge to do her studies. Miss Helena gave the princess her peace and guards were stationed outside of her room with orders to see that she never left the room unattended. She knew something was happening. The atmosphere was crawling with a buzz that meant no good.

From her bedchamber port hole window she could hear the castle blacksmith working far more than usual. The sound to stone grinding against metal. The hiss of the hot impressionable steel being soaked in a cold bath. More footsteps sounded down the halls than usual. She had yet to see her father or mother all morning. Miss Helena was antsy with the lessons this morning. She urged the princess of the urgency of her healing spell and the other small magical abilities she possessed. Nothing to major, but there was a theme, Eola notice. All spells were useful for getting out of a bind. Summoning a ball of light, A small flame spell, and the healing spells. Her potion crafting was tested as well. A common poison remedy that word on most, but not all, poisons. Little did she know that a war was to erupt.

Queen Araana had even procured an escape route should the worst happen and her daughter needed to flee. Miss Helena soon came back with a tray of foods for the princess. The plump woman was no fool. The young ones thoughts were clearly elsewhere and she still mourned Sir Degon's death. "Princess Sylvari, care to snack while I teach you how to make a potion that erases pain?" That peaked Eola's curiosity, and she was hungry. "Now, it only works for a certain amount of time, and that time can very upon the potency and how well the potion was made. It could last from a measly ten minutes to days. Come.... eat and I'll show you."

King Otho stood around the table occupied with the council with General Mordyval at his side. "Black Briar should be back soon, he was sent to see to the mages and what enchantments they could put upon the armor or weapons. A time consuming endeavor for even one sword." The brawny golden haired general nodded his head and rubbed the scruff of his bearded chin as blue eyes roamed the may upon the table. "And time is something we must assume we have little of. Deadrik, take the men out and leave half behind. Both entrances to the city are sealed off should, may the heavens forbid, they manage to make it through the outer village."

A chainmaile tunic adorned the brawny elf's torso. A sword and its hilt attached to his belt with thick boots upon his feel. Short golden tresses pulled back and tied for security. "Fetch my armor." The general spoke in a deep voice to the squire assigned to him who scurried off. King Otho embrace his general and friend in a hug that only lasted a moment. "Come back in one piece Deadrik, send me word as often as possible."

"Yes, my King." Deadrik headed off to adorned his armor. Nothing too posh, but the cloak draped about his shoulders and the special visor signifying him as the general of the elven kingdom of Otmar. Deadrik and the king had fought, not moments ago within the person studies, from prying ears. King Otho was damned if he did not join his men upon the battlefield, but the General insisted otherwise. He had a Queen and a daughter and village to protects. Alot of damn good it would do with the King buried six feet under. King Otho was still sketchy about his decision, but Deadrik wasted no time in fulfilling his orders and mounting up and heading to the border.

Razgriz · Jul 22, 2012

Many had mourned the passing of Sir Lucius Beauregard II, a man of seemingly infinite wisdom and a role model for the more 'scholarly' type of people. Abel had attended his funeral, along with Trystram and the other Knights of the Inner Circle; though he was no real influence on Abel's life, the young boy was still saddened by his passing. He didn't understand; if this man had tried to negotiate peace, why would they intentionally provoke a war? From what Abel had heard, he and the Elven emissary had slain each other at the same time, as their bodies were found with the dagger of the other in their heart. When he asked his master of what was going to happen next, the response was simple and to the point: War. Abel, for one of the few times of his life, grew afraid; not for his own life, but the life of Trystram, the man who had taken him in from the dirty streets and made him into the boy he was today.

Abel and Trystram stepped up their training; with how desperate Trystram imagined the war becoming, he wanted his Squire to be as ready as he could possibly be. After all, most Squires followed their masters into the heat of battle, playing a vital support role of bringing them equipment and watching for enemies coming from their flanks. Besides, there was only so much being lectured at and fights with wooden blades could actually teach a young mind; in this respect, the humans were not unlike the Orcs. Their training for the right to be called a warrior was not quite as rigorous as that of the Orcs, but it was most certainly a brutal trial, both physically and mentally.

After a particularly trying session of swordplay and technique, Trystram and his young charge sat down, both breathing heavily. Young Abel was getting better all the time, but he still needed much training in order to become a true master of the sword. He was only just under a year into his period as a Squire, there was no possible way Abel was ready for the horrors ad tribulations of war. Trystram allowed himself to catch his breath, then said, "Abel......" The young boy looked at his master, wondering what was going through his mind. "Abel, as I'm sure you're aware, war is upon us. There is a good chance we will get called into service, for we - the Knights of the Inner Circle - are the last line of defense for this Kingdom. Above all else, our duty is to protect these people". Abel nodded and replied, "Sir, I understand and should that time come, I will do what I must to ensure our victory". Trystram shook his head, "No, Abel, you will not. You are not ready yet for this". He then grabbed the boy's hand and said, "Should I fall in battle, Abel, I want you to run. Run as fast as you can and don't look back" Abel was speechless; after all this talk of honor and dignity, now his master was telling him to abandon it? To say the poor boy was confused was an understatement.

Richard meanwhile, met with Samael and Ulthane Black, his messengers having acquired the assistance of several mages to be escorted not only here, but to other towns as well; the weapon originally meant to deal with Orc marauders would now be re-purposed to aid the humans in the fight against their enemy. Richard asked to see the completed tool; Samael, the youngest of the Black Brothers, un-slung a gigantic tube - nearly four feet in length, possessing a glowing ruby on one end, over which hung a weirdly placed hook, and a handle grip towards the opposite - from his back and laid it on the table before the King. Samael's green-gray hues looked at the King as Richard examined the strange weapon with much curiosity; just what was this supposed to do?

Ulthane let out a hearty chuckle as he replied, clapping a heavy hand on young Samael's shoulder, "Yeah, ya can thank meh younger brother here for the idea. I might be a fair swing with tha hammer, but he....he's got the right stuff in that oversized mead jug of his. Hahahaha". Samael flushed; he often did when his older sibling put the praise on him too thickly. He knew he was nothing like Ulthane; standing at just over five feet, his body resembled one that was severely malnourished. Which wasn't true; he ate plenty, but he never really put on any weight. This was evidenced by the lack of characteristic eyeshadows and sunken sockets; his hair black as a raven's feathers, shone with much brilliance against firelight, yet more evidence of its health and virility.

Richard just shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry, but what is this supposed to do?" Ulthane then turned to Samael, each looking at the other with slight bewilderment, before both then burst out laughing. Richard's fists clenched; how dare they mock him! If they weren't the ones supplying his army with what they needed, he'd have both strung up in the racks for this outrageous behaviour. "Oh, come now, Yer Majesty! Ya can't be that thick in the head, can ya?" the red-haired giant then said, wiping a tear of laughter from his right eye with a thick digit. "I'm a King, Ulthane, not a blacksmith. I don't have the prowess that you and your brother possess". Samael too managed to calm down himself and added, "Apologies, Your Highness, but we often forget that little truth. Essentially, it's a downsized cannon, but none of the firepower is sacrificed". The King slapped his hand on the table, "Impossible! A cannon is an unwieldy device, requiring several men or a team of horses to drag into position! One cannot simply downsize it!" Ulthane then let out a heavy sigh, saying to Samael, "I told ya he wouldn't listen, ya dolt. Now we gotta waste a shot showing him the truth". Richard let that one slide, despite the blatantly insulting nature of his comment; he dared not anger the giant, knowing full well of Ulthane's strength and ferocity when provoked. "Agh....Follow us, Yer Majesty" Ulthane then said grumpily as he led the King and his guard detail outside; after a short travel, they arrived at the testing ground, where a large granite boulder sat in the field of grass. "Here, brother, ye fire it. It's a bit....dainty for me" Ulthane commented as he handed Samael an iron ball; though what Richard noticed was that the ball was tapered to a point on one end and flattened to a smooth surface on the other. Just what was it this strange contraption did?

Samael slid some loose black-and-red powder, then inserted the flat end of the strangely-shaped projectile into the opening nearest the muzzle grip. He cocked a hidden lever nearest the underside of the barrel, then rested the weapon on his shoulder. "You might want to cover your ears, Your Highness. This thing can be quite the ruckus-maker" Samael then warned; however, before anyone could do anything, Samael's finger pulled another smaller lever under the muzzle grip. The hook smashed into the ruby, transmitting the stored energy into the ruby-black powder beneath the shell. This caused an explosion inside the tube, a fireball erupting from inside as the iron projectile was hurtled towards the boulder at unimaginable speed. The collision of the projectile caused the boulder to explode into dust; all of this occurred faster than one could even blink. Richard and his men all recoiled from the shock at the sheer power this weapon had; the King was speechless, staring open-jawed and stupefied at what just happened. His mind though was racing with thoughts, one after the other, a near-endless flow of images and scenes where this weapon would decimate all who stood before it. This was fantastic! This weapon could be a vital component to crushing those damned Elves and sending them back to the forests where they belonged! Ulthane, on the other hand, was laughing like crazy, and young Samael was standing there, a pleased smile stretching across his face. He and his brother made a good team, they did.

Meanwhile, a large number of Knights were readying to leave, fresh suits of armor covering their vital parts and swords slung at the ready. A small battalion of archers had already been deployed and send to pre-designated spots where they could easily pick off any Elf foolish enough to wander into their line of sight. Most would have to go on foot, as there weren't enough horses for everyone; however, the most experienced cavalry riders would tow the other knights by flat-bed carriage towards their points of deployment. Many knights from the surrounding human kingdoms had sent reinforcements to outlying colonies; they realized that this would be a massive conflict where no one was safe and did their part to help reinforce humanity's hold on the lands they'd had since the beginning.

A single Knight, one General Curtis Cul de Louf, dressed in armour befitting his status as such stood before the large group of men, the point of his ornate blade driven into the ground as he spoke. "Men, today is the day our fight begins. This day, we begin our fight to continue living! Not just for the atrocity committed recently, but of the atrocities and utter lack of disregard for our survival as a species those damned Elves had displayed and committed! Despite all their talk of peace and understanding, it is they who have so mercilessly butchered our kindred! If they want blood, then I say, let's give them THEIR OWN!" A roar of approval was heard as the General mounted his own horse, his head turned towards his men as he continued, "Today, my friends, my allies in battle, we will show those pointy-eared bastards the true, indomitable will of the Human race! We will show them that when you tread on one of us, you tread on ALL OF US!" Another collective roar of approval sounded, applause from the crowd surrounding those about to leave reaching utterly high volumes. "Now, my men, let us ride!" All at once, a seemingly endless horde poured from the three gates of Evugid, horses and carriages alike thundering from the walled city towards the field of battle.

(Hehehe, medieval recoil-less rifle for the win

. Funny though, since cannons of any sort weren't largely used by Anglo-Saxons until the middle of the 13th century XD)

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 23, 2012

Thunder sounded in the air. A sound that Otho was all too familiar with. "The mages are prepared." He sounded aloud to himself. He was still lingering on Degon's death. How he had yet to see his daughter in days. Queen Araana spoke to her husband once and got no where. Degon will not have died in vain, nor will their kin be sullied by the likes of the humans. This war was no longer about land, but justice. Queen Araana paced outside of her daughter's bedchambers with two armed guards and Miss Helena looking with a look of pity. "What reason is there for this? Is the extinction of the humans that important to spill the blood of our own kin and soak the very ground was worship and walk upon. Miss Helena was shocked in pure silents. She had no words to answer with. That and Princess Eola had said something along the same exact lines that very morn. The princess was a prisoner within the walls of her own home, but she was nothing less than very clever and acutely observant.

The tension in the air grew thick as men and woman charged the battlefield with swords at the ready and their fallen kin at mind with General Mordyval at the front. The villages were armed for the worst cases. Some villagers would flee behind the walls of the city at the news while some villagers were stubborn enough to dawn pitchforks and lend what aid they could should the war proceed their way. Andol tended to the castle and upped its defenses and saw to the placement of the mages. familiars summoned in the form of various animals: large wolves, bears, and a swarm of ravens from one particular mage. While those were at the defense, the elemental battle mages were dispersed amongst the knight heading to the battlefield. Adrenaline umping through their veins and roars and cheers rang through the air.

The archers hung back. The dwarves had come through with the crossbow and the alchemists came up with a poison for the tips that worked fairly fast. The border was neared and the sounds of others reached their ears. There was no time for negotiating beyond this. The damage had been done and they would not stand down until their appetite was sated and right now it craved justice in the form of human bloodshed. An overhang of dark clouds blanketed the sky. The sun's rays feebly poking through. An omen of the dark times to come. From somewhere in the sea of elven knights a staff arose and a bolt of lightning connected from the clear glass orb that adorned its tip to the clouds above and a roar of thunder sounded. Thalos Meyrune the 'dark' mage. Not truly a dark mage, but he was never one for fluffy, bright, and sweet. He danced along the border, but it was never truly crossed. To fire off a chain of lightning could, not only, kill the humans but his own kin as well, so he was fairly limited on this field, but he harbored other tricks up his sleeves.

One armored male took of his gloves and rubbed his hands together and they burst into flames before he blew them out. Amber eyes glared out of the narrow viewpoint of his visor and heart raced. Salem Page was young and said to be gifted with the talent of flames. Something that had done him a great harm as a child before he was taken to school and taught how to control it. Various other mages were scattered about. Some dawning armor, some dawning enchanted robes. While magic was intimidating, every man had his weakness. No one was impervious.

The Queen confronted her King, once more. Their daughter could not remain within the city if the battle breached the walls. Queen Araana had taken it upon herself to send a request to the Lord and Lady of Amberdeen to see if they would house their daughter under secrecy in their mixed neutral village. Word had just gotten back, that they accept. The King was unsure of this. Lord and Lady Amberdeen were both humans that swore their debt to Queen Araana. Not only was there a doubt in the trust between the humans that offered to house their princess under secrecy, but to get to Amberdeen, they would have to go around the commencing battle and risk their daughter being taken away in the heart of the battle. The chances were risky, but no better than her staying here if the humans did reach the walls. More plans would have to be made in advance to have his daughter brought back, in case she did not make it to the original destination. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "If the time comes, then we shall see what our options are." She reassured his wife before heading back to the combat room.

The creek's waters churned sligthly from the wind. The water not near deep enough to keep horses from passing the border from one territory, to the next. A few wolves growled and snapped from between horses. Though familiars, if killed, it would take a degree of time and spare magic to bring them back. Both of which, were not ample in the heat of a battle. From beyond the oncoming long crowd of soldiers an arrow flew overhead and landed just on the other side of the bridge, lodging itself deep into the ground. Be it an accident or on purpose, would forever be a debatable topic as the first shot had been fired.

Razgriz · Jul 23, 2012

It would take Trystram a while, but eventually he managed to convince Abel that he would not be allowed to linger in battle should Trystram die. It simply wouldn't be safe for him; even through all of this, the Paladin would give the Elves the benefit of the doubt, only showing how unclouded his judgment could be. He worried that Abel's mind had been corrupted by the negative speech of the townspeople. Being an orphan, Trystram quickly learned that his mindset was much like a stubborn tick. the boy seemed almost eager to fight, but it would take nothing less than the sanctity of Evugid or a loss of over three-quarters of their army to send in the Inner Circle. They were the King's trump card, belonging not only knights but well-cared-for, extremely skilled arch-mages that studied under the guidance of the Old Masters. With their talk concluded, Trystram had Abel sleep; the two of them had been training almost non-stop, and that wouldn't do them much good if they were too tired to even move. When the young lad laid down to rest, he retreated to his own quarters, his mind troubled by the coming storm of war.

Trystram watched as the skies slowly darkened; it was almost foretelling of the chaos and destruction that would ensue as a result of this unnecessary, most unwaveringly blood-saturated conflict that both of the major Kingdoms were about to undertake. He could practically hear the hooves of the Red Horse beating a bloodied, body-strewn path to the living world's doorstep. The fair Paladin was unquestionably certain that the other races would get dragged into the conflict, through one means or another; in fact, Trystram was certain this would be all-out war. The Fae would likely ally themselves with the Elves, both races being most in tune with the ebbs and flows of all things magic. The Dwarven Clans were almost on the brink of civil war, and this new battle might serve to deepen that divide even further. Trystram was fairly certain of that; there was always so much fighting. He knew that he didn't help things by obeying the King's orders, but as a Knight, he was held to the Code to uphold the reign of the King to the best of his ability and beyond. As for the other factions, such as the hags, Wicca, Orcs and Goblins, it was unclear if they would even ally with anyone at all; both major factions had treated them very cruelly, but some might seek the asylum of one from their own personal motivations alone. It was unclear at this point and might continue to be so until later; Trystram, however, let it rest for now, and so retreated to his own bed to do the same.

The two armies would approach each other at great speeds, some knights dismounting from the carriages before they even came to a full stop. A mass of humans, easily outnumbering the Elven army division almost two to one, rushed and gathered on the opposite side of the creek, the darkening heavens threatening rain and wind upon this soon-to-be-well-sown field of death. As soon as the first arrow landed just in front of the human army, a collective cry was heard as the Knights, with their shields and swords at the ready, charged. Some ran across the bridge, the structure creating a noise akin to the impending thunder as the heavy armored feet pummeled its aged yet well-crafted surface, while others charged down the embankment to meet the forest dwellers in the water.

The bulk of the armies collided, metal on metal clanging and grinding, a silver surface heaving and moving in the violent waves only the Horseman of War could create. Swords clashed, sparks flying from the force of the impact as they fought. Archers fired, their strings giving off that characteristic "twang" as the point-tipped, barbed-hook shaft of death was fired, a lucky few able to embed themselves into the flesh of the enemies. The few mages that were present, including the one and only Cerian the Fire-mage, worked countless spells simultaneously to help maintain the arcane protection that their soldiers required, as was their duty. Even if this was just the beginning, it would show the ferocity with which both sides would fight. This wasn't going to be a pleasant war, that much was certain.

King Richard had recovered enough from his shock to be coherent once more; however, now the King was even more ecstatic and unreasonable. No matter how the Black Brothers tried to explain it, the King just wasn't understanding the most vital point. To make even one of these weapons took considerable time and various enchantments to make it work; the rubies that served as the ignition source were extremely rare, and the fact that the loose powder had to be mixed with pulverized pieces of them made it that much more difficult to produce the quantity the King was asking for. At best, they could produce one hundred tubes and enough of the black powder-crushed ruby mixture to supply about four months months of continuous use.

Naturally, the King was downstruck by the bad news; he knew it would be foolish to waste such a powerful armament in only four months. He had to operate under the assumption that the Elves had something else in store as well. It would downright idiotic to show such a powerful card, only to have the Elves render it utterly useless. No, this needed to be conserved. Even though the blacksmiths did a fantastic job, the King wanted this to be even more useful; when Orrin got here, he would ask the Fiery Plains Dwarf King to have his men look over the weapon and see if anything could be done with it. Richard counted himself lucky to have such an ally; Orrin possessed a seething hatred for the Elves, and having such a skilled set of people allied with him would certainly help push the balance more to their favor.

Lady Bloody Ava · Jul 24, 2012

Swords and the like clashed with screams and cries filling the air from both sides as throats were slashed and barbed tips of arrows pierced flesh with ease, whenever the archer was lucky enough to land a hit. Morgana rode upon the black mare at the back and dashed back to the city with great hast to report the news to her king. The human's more than double the amount of their own kin. The humans had made it past the border and some of her kin had made it past the bridge. How for could they push. A bolt of lightning cracked through the sky and touched down somewhere in the crowd. "Be careful Thalos." The old mage was powerful, but his body was not, or so she thought, physically fit for such a battle. The messenger nearly choked on the smell of blood already. The distinct and sadly familiar scent of burnt flesh hinted in the air. Hooves clapping along the cobblestone road until it split in three ways and she continued on towards the city.

The doors to the opened to the throne room and Queen Araana walked along side an ornately dress drow. Knight Commander Sybal Uthal, more commonly known as 'The Dark Queen'. Araana thought of her as a sister and , no matter how much the king hated it, she treated him as a brother. While the Drow were beneath the king's ruling, they kept mostly to themselves and were beneath the watchful eye of Commander Uthal. "What is the meaning of this Otho!!" The woman with the commanding and informal tone of voice dawned dark scaling armor with an ebony sword at her side. Ornate gauntlets and a long crimson cloak draped about her shoulders. "I sent word to you ages ago---" The armored female drow cut her king off with the raise of a gloved hand. "I wasted no second gathering up my men, leaving Knight Sergeant Rembrandt in charge of defending the keep should the meat puppets decide to take aim at our haven. Room is being made in case of an evacuation as a last resort." The king relinquished a sigh of relief. The thought of sending his daughter to the Drow had been tossed out earlier because there had been no response. This was a far more comforting solution than leaving her in the hands of humans: be they friend or enemy at this time. King Sylvari nodded his head. "Further more, I brought a some Argonian mercenaries with me. Figured they'd prove of some use. Hugo!"

At the drow queen's word an reptilian humanoid being passed the threshold and into the room. Well worn armor dawned the dark green body cover in natural armor in the form of scales over thick flesh with spikes jutting out of his jawline and adorning the crown of his head. A long thick tail sweeping behind him with spikes growing in size all the way down to the very tip. He approached and kneeled on bended knee before the elven king. "We are at your service, Your Majesty." The creature hand a deep voice with a bit of a hiss we pronouncing 's's. "Give them the coin and they'll do almost anything. Almost anything."

King Sylvari was aware of the Argonians. The reptilian denizens of the Black Marsh. Little is known and less is understood about them. Years of defending their borders have certainly made the Argonians experts in guerrilla warfare, and their natural abilities make them equally at home in water and on land. They have are said to possess natural immunities to the diseases and poisons that have doomed many would-be explorers and conquerors of the region. Their seemingly expressionless faces belie a calm intelligence, and many Argonians are well-versed in the magical arts. Others rely on stealth or steel to survive, and their natural agility makes them adept at either. They are, in general, a reserved people, slow to trust and hard to know, yet they are fiercely loyal, and will fight to the death for those they have named as allies.

"I thank you." The king sounded. A young squire charged through the door and bowed before his king. "I beg of you. Your Highness, forgive my sudden intrusion but the King of Fae sends word that his priestess should be arriving soon to see how to aid in this fruitful endeavor." It continued to be one thing after another as Morgana arrives and waits for all conversations to die down and give the king a moment to collect his thoughts, but apparently he did not need an abundant amount of time as he spotted her familiar face. "Ah! Morgana! What word have you?" The golden haired knight approached with her armor tucked beneath one arm. "Your Majesty, the humans outnumber us greatly. Thalos seems to be making great use of his skills and General Mordyval..." She was not sure what to say and the King showed a bit of fear for a second. "General Mordyval is in the heart of the battle and his blade continues to swing with pride. I know not how man we have lost, but our men stand strong and continue to push past the border." King Otho slammed the palms of his hands upon the table at the bit of good news. "Thank you Morgana, bring me more news." She dawned her helmet once more and headed off to the battlefield.

Razgriz · Jul 31, 2012

It was like one great plague swept across the battleground when the lightning bolt struck; it had the unfortunate chance of striking the creek directly, vaporizing the water from the sheer intensity of the electrical current. And woe would befall those caught when the lightning bolt struck; their metal foot coverings were filled with mineral-laden water, making it a most prime candidate for conduction. The energy from the arrow of the Heavens was transmitted to all those in contact with the water itself; all seemed to freeze up and go still, then seemed to simply keel over and die on the spot. At this moment, the combat stopped for both sides; had a mage used this technique to try and decimate the forces? If so, then it worked...partially. If not, then that was quite the lucky strike.

However, war often stifled simple acts of analysis; both sides then started shouting again, making claims about savagery and the incompetence of their mages for using such imprecise technique. Then the frenzy was soon worked up again, and the fighting restarted, except now they only desired to kill each other all the more, even as the mass of bodies in the creek reeked of torched flesh and fused metal. Said bodies were pushed further down the river to make room for fighting and killing those that stood before them. Now the number of soldiers for each side were even.

The battle raged on, the heaving mass of increasingly bloodied silver and flesh continuing to create quite the racket. Bodies of the fallen were pushed out of the way as the common infantry tried to reach their enemy and tear their throat out. Several groups of warriors fell from the bridge, only to get up and ironically restart fighting in the same place where scores fell by a single act of the heavens above. Swords clanged against armor and shields alike, bloodcurdling screams erupted from the throats of the fallen as their life-flame were successively extinguished. The creek that flowed beneath the feet of the warriors grew redder and redder as the Knights from either side fell.

Soon, only two warriors remained on the bridge, General Mordyval of the Elves and General Curtis Cul de Louf of the Humans. Both were covered in the blood of comrades and foes alike, their respective armor suits likewise riddled with dents and cut marks. The purple cape that adorned the Human General's shoulders was tattered and torn, dark spots speckling its surface from the war raging on around them. His helmet was bent in several areas, but his spirit remained unbroken even after seeing so many die in one fell swoop. And even though he couldn't say what Mordyval's current state of mind was, he knew enough about the Elf General's reputation to believe that he was the same way. Know thy enemy, a teaching passed down from generation to generation and most certainly crucial in this war.

For the longest moment, they would stare at each other, Curtis' face hidden by the helmet he wore. His ornate blade, its once glamorous length stained red and brown from the trials of dirt and blood and some chipped pieces , was buried by its point into the wooden surface of the bridge as he turned his head to watch the battle rage beneath. "Your men fight well, General Mordyval; it's been so long since I've received the chance to face worthy adversaries" Curtis then stated, watching two stranded Elves fall to the precision of the King's Archers, their throats pouring blood as they keeled over, gurgling from the shafts that seemed to magically appear lodged in their respective trachea. Another was then lit aflame by Cerian's dastardly spells, a fire that worked quickly and was inextinguishable by any means other than magic. The poor Elf fell into the river, screaming as he tried to douse the fire, only to be burned alive and his stench joining those struck by the bolt of lightning. The General let a smile of glee cross his hidden face as he added, pulling his sword from the ground and pointing its tip at the General, "But let's see what happens to the Elves when a warrior such as you falls to the hands of a human!"

Elsewhere, King Haggard of the Northern Territories, his castle of stone and permafrost located in the heart of the Icelands, was unknowingly about to received word that King Richard of the Evugid Kingdom was engaged in war with the Elves. Haggard was a large, only a fair degree shorter than Ulthane Black himself, but nonetheless stocky for his height. A thick chocolate-brown beard covered his mouth, the surface crusted with a thin layer of frost. A horned helmet sat up on his head, with more furs hanging off the side to act as ear protectors. Unlike his eastern counterpart, Haggard's attire consisted of thick furs to deal with the chilling weather of the Northern Highlands. Snow was not uncommon and in fact happened so often that it was considered the norm. Not much grew in these hostile lands, but Haggard's people found a way to hunt big game and store wood and food for many months. They were the most rural and least materialistic; up here, food and supplies were the objects of trade, with weight being the determining factor in what accounted for an equal trade. But that was besides the point; now was a time for war and fighting. Of all the Human Kingdoms, the Northern Territories were renown for their brutality and eagerness for combat. And the King was in for a big surprise when the messenger boy arrived, holding a scroll of information from Glacius; they had the fewest mages available than any other human kingdom, but their ability to seek and inquire information relevant to the Northern Territories was beyond compare. They had eyes everywhere, and were able to receive messages of pertinent happenings despite any stretch of distance between the source and themselves.

Haggard unrolled the scroll, his yellowed, crooked teeth showing as he smiled with obvious glee,"I see.........Well, far be it from the Northern Highlandsmen to refuse an opportunity for glory!" He crumpled the paper that his page had brought in and threw it into the stone fireplace next to his wooden throne. "That thrice-damned Richard and his attempts at peace.....Why make peace with those who obviously hate you? I'll never understand him...." he then added, then barked, "Tobaius! Send a message to all able-bodied men! The Northern Territories heads east to fight!" Haggard called out; the message was carried out. It would take a few days to have word reach all the outlying towns. Unlike traditional kingdoms, ALL men were needed to fight, be they sons of the King or sons of the lowest peasant family. He needed every body at hand to fight in this war, especially since Haggard knew of the Elves and their surprising ability to adapt for ones so thin and frail-looking. He would often chuckle at the thought of their pointy ears freezing to the point where a small flick of his thick digits would make the tips snap off; but now, he would soon fight! Oh what a glorious day indeed! Ironic considering it would take the better of several days to have his men travel there, to a battlesite that didn't even affect his Kingdom's ability to survive in the slightest, but he wouldn't bother himself with details.

(sorry for the wait, hopes this makes up for it)

Lady Bloody Ava · Aug 5, 2012

It was a few hours later that the Dark Army of Dregamar arrived and filled the barracks and the courtyard with horses and weapons. All clad in ebony armor and many sporting red eyes. "As we speak they arrive, King Sylvari. We must have a new plan of attack. The last report was grim, and the plan is broken and must be fixed." The Drow general sounded in a urging strong tone. as they continued mapping out plans. Time was lost as blood was shed. How long had it taken the Dark Army to arrive? It was unknown, for now the King awaited more news. Something better than he had been receiving. Thalos, the mage, had been brought back on the back of a horse. The man was just barely alive and any mage that could be salvaged had to be, especially Thalos. It would take weeks before the mage could even move out of the bed. Queen Araana assured that she would try her best, but it seemed pretty grim.

Blood danced along the river and around the bodies that made it their resting place. Elves and Humans came together in death on either side of the bridge. Morgana rode back with her own armor dented and coated on her kin's blood. Though a messenger of the battlefield, she would not stay on the lines and miss the opportunity to take the life of a human that had so ruthlessly aimed for her kin. The woman took an arrow through the chainmail of her shoulders. She took no time to linger on the thought or pain and broke most of what was not lodged beneath her flesh and rode on. A few of the guards that stood at the barracks tried to stop her and get her assistance, but news was of the utmost importance. She fast walked over to the throne room. Helmet off and her own blood staining her chainmail and clean through her tunic. Color clearly lost from her flesh from loss of blood.

King Sylvari spotted the woman instantly and held a hand up to silence the council that stood around the table. A servant girl slowly approached the knight as she got on bended knee. "Your majesty... all are.... all are slain... seldom few are gravely injured. All that remains.... is General Mordyval and the human general... they fight upon the bridge as we speak, Your Majesty." The girl had braved the venture and the urgency of relaying the news to her king with the wound before she collapsed upon the floor. Her brethren were quick to assist her to the infirmary.

Knight Commander Uthal's voice rang out. "Get them out there!! Go to Mordyval's aid!! Now!!" She order the few of her own knight to lead on the first squad of a few men who would be able to get there very fast. But not fast enough. Night was soon upon them. A dangerous and yet well advantaged time. beneath the cloak of the night the drow had great assistance with an adaptability to see clearly in the dark. Six men rode out clad in ebony armor with the crest of the Dregamar Army burned onto the gauntlets and their chest pieces. A crest comprised of a wound up snake ready for the kill.

Mordyval's breathing was jagged as the blood of both enemy and kin coated his armor. He had not been unscathed. A gash ran along his right cheek. The blood slowly dripping from the wound. Certainly several bruises would be forming in due time with those that were already present. He had taken a nice blow to the right side with a warhammer that he had not seen coming moments ago. Thunder and lightning rang and clashed in the skies. It was nature taking reign of the dark times. The light making the river of bodies far more clear to the eyes as the clouds continued to hover over head. The General's sword was chipped and coated in blood while housed in its sheath. Clenched in his hands were two bloodied daggers. His defense and offense. When the denseness of the crowd had come along, he pulled them out for more precise attacks. He heard the piercing of arrows from behind him, but he dare not give the human the opening her would be giving if he turned his head to watch his kin die. It fueled his anger even more. Lava seemed to flow through his veins.

The elf was sick of hearing words and was ready to see justice serve by having the human bleed to death. A mixture of anger and happiness overcame him. This was it. Even if he lost his life, taking the humans.... it would be a personally sweet victory. Both daggers were at the ready. Their enchanted strength was phenomenal. Light weight and strong. No sword could break them and the shock of blocking was well absorbed. He blocked with great accuracy. Getting in a hit, was the tricky part. Agility played a great factor, just below cumming tactics. "Do your worst HUMAN!" The general yelled.

Razgriz · Aug 11, 2012

The few humans that had survived the brutal onslaught stood at the other side of the river, an impassably high barrier of armored corpses blocking any further attempts at combat. They looked up and saw that Curtis himself was facing down what obviously their General; one knight tried to go help him, but another grabbed his shoulder and said, "Do not interfere; this is Nex Sacramentum, the Death Oath". The knight that had tried to go aid his General froze, as if not understanding; not surprising, considered the boy's age and that Nex Sacramentum was something not explicitly taught to the lowest of the Knight ranks. "Nex Sacramentum, sire?" the confused young man asked for clarification; the older knight replied, "Death Oath; when Curtis stuck his sword in the ground and then pointed at the Elven warrior, they entered essentially a duel to the death. If you were to interfere, I would be honor-bound to kill you to preserve the integrity of this ritual". The younger Knight gulped; his head then turned back to face his General, the poor man wondering what he should do.

The dregs of the fighting died down around the two; Still, chokes of fading life could be heard from the dead and dying below and around him; Curtis, however, was too focused on his adversary to even notice the piles of dead soldiers anymore. This was a duel of honor, and both knew that. The mages were still present in degraded and yet very much potent strength, but now it was mostly the trying to make sure their superiors would not be interfered with as they dueled. Above them, crackles of energy could be heard, singing in symphony with the sounds of nature's fury above them as spells and enchantments were cast, each seeking to annihilate the others. All mages were skilled in cloaking their locations, as that was one of the first skills they often learned. It would be very disadvantageous for any warring faction to have any of their mages discovered and taken over.

Soon, the darkedned skies eventually let their tears fall, the drops starting out small and light before turning into a torrential rainstorm. The rain poured down, cold winds whipping it about and letting the Human General hear the "plink!" as each drop struck the battered iron suit he wore. His tattered and blood-struck cape fluttered about wildly, each sharp ripple of the fabricThe sky soon lit up as the lightning bolts became more and more angry, the loud booms echoing across this blood-saturated field of the dead. As the Elven General shouted at Curtis to do his worst, Curtis grasped his sword in both hands, holding it up before. This rain would make the bridge very slick, so he had to be extra careful with this. He then shouted, "Prepare yourself, Elven scourge!" and charged forward, his larger blade meeting the General's dagger in glorious combat. Cerian took note of this and performed a final spell that would seal the warriors' fates; a circular barrier of inextinguishable hellfire surrounded the bridge in its entirety. Any who tried to step over it would be instantly incinerated until one of the combatants succeeded in killing the other; the release of the soul from the body was the only way to quench this otherwise indestructible flame.

(Sorry this is so short, but since it's only to be about the two Generals for the moment......Well, you know XP)

Stranger things.....(Razgriz x Lady Bloody Ava)

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?

Florida Fall 🏝️🍹

Shall we write beautiful stories together?