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Supernova
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2009
The violet and yellow banner of the Yrtug people waved, their warlord resplendent in yellow lacquered body armor, blessed with the blood sigils of his people. They were from the West, from across the seas, where they had conquered an entire continent. Enslaved many peoples, and were expanding forever east, felling the dwarves and race of man, followed by the gnomes and the pixies, coming down hard on the tribal halflings until finally they had nearly come to envelope the elves of Elisiriel.
The warlord's emissaries had come to make an offer of truce. They claimed they did not wish to fight the elves of Elisiriel, rather to make peace with them before war could erupt. They conceded that to fight among the forests of their people they would face not only serious losses, but potentially lose control of the enemies of the elves. Those tribal halflings, the men constantly harrying their shrinking borders, the dwarves looking hungry. All that had to happen was the ruler, the princess, of the kingdom had to marry the warlord, a man named Marcos.
After weeks of debate the issue had been decided. The princess would marry Marcos, using the ceremonies of his people, the Yrtug. The Yrtug were different than many of the others, still humanoid, but with red compound eyes and pebbly day-glo yellow skin. Completely hairless, their canines ceremonially sharpened, often decorated with swirling, jagged tattoos that moved across their skin.
On the day in question the people of Elisiriel had been gathered together. Huge stands had been constructed for spectators to watch as Marcos and the princess wed. In the threes sat Marcos' soldiers, ones who were off duty or not a member of the sixty person honor guard that had accompanied the warlord. The Yrtug present were silent, waiting, all in soldier's leathers and chainmail, halberds slung casually over their shoulders. First Marcos ascended the steps of the raised diaz they were to be wed on, then ceremoniously undressed, revealing a well muscled body with many purple scars from many battles.
One of the three priests held an obsidian dagger tight in hand. The priests were dressed in purple robes with the symbol of the Thrice-Headed God upon their breasts. They were to officiate, offer benedictions to their god, before the mingling of blood that would define their companionship.
The warlord's emissaries had come to make an offer of truce. They claimed they did not wish to fight the elves of Elisiriel, rather to make peace with them before war could erupt. They conceded that to fight among the forests of their people they would face not only serious losses, but potentially lose control of the enemies of the elves. Those tribal halflings, the men constantly harrying their shrinking borders, the dwarves looking hungry. All that had to happen was the ruler, the princess, of the kingdom had to marry the warlord, a man named Marcos.
After weeks of debate the issue had been decided. The princess would marry Marcos, using the ceremonies of his people, the Yrtug. The Yrtug were different than many of the others, still humanoid, but with red compound eyes and pebbly day-glo yellow skin. Completely hairless, their canines ceremonially sharpened, often decorated with swirling, jagged tattoos that moved across their skin.
On the day in question the people of Elisiriel had been gathered together. Huge stands had been constructed for spectators to watch as Marcos and the princess wed. In the threes sat Marcos' soldiers, ones who were off duty or not a member of the sixty person honor guard that had accompanied the warlord. The Yrtug present were silent, waiting, all in soldier's leathers and chainmail, halberds slung casually over their shoulders. First Marcos ascended the steps of the raised diaz they were to be wed on, then ceremoniously undressed, revealing a well muscled body with many purple scars from many battles.
One of the three priests held an obsidian dagger tight in hand. The priests were dressed in purple robes with the symbol of the Thrice-Headed God upon their breasts. They were to officiate, offer benedictions to their god, before the mingling of blood that would define their companionship.