Arcana and Steam: A World in Peril (IC)

[rengadeirishman]

Eirik stood in his chamber, with a squire helping him put on his armor. His armor was a thing of beauty forged by ancient smiths of skill that surpassed even modern dwarves, it had been pristinely cared for all these years and had been worn by his father and his father's father, over 2000 years of history in this armor. As he was being armored in the gleaming dwarf-plate, he thought about the coming war. My warriors have been ordered to ready he thought Most should be armed and armored by now, and the steam trucks made ready. As his squire finally fastened his cape to his armor Eirik seized his weapons, the mighty waraxe Gramr, and his 6 throwing axes. After donning his weapons belts he grabbed his ancient helmet, with an exact copy of his crown forged onto it. He then preceeded to the staging ground where his personal steam trike waited along with the myriad steam trucks carrying his warriors and their supplies with more warriors and supplies being loaded on. As soon as everyone and everything was loaded, he mounted his steam trike, flanked by his personal honour guard he led the procession out of the final gates of Kalagorm and off toward Irongate, to prepare for war.

 

[Furion9]

Katan sighed and pressed a hand to his head as he surveyed the chaos in the ranger barracks. Dalion beside him patted Katan's back, but could do nothing to hide the look of dismay on his own face.

"Oh what the hell is this... Rangers, stand at attention!"

Dalion chuckles and whistles as the captain's booming voice causes the soldiers and officers in the vicinity to immediately stop and salute. "Sir!"

"You will not behave like drunken humans and you will maintain discipline! This chaos isn't helping anyone! Officers control your men then gather in the war room. Now!"

Three more speeches and half an hour later, Katan stood in the main chamber of the barracks with five Lieutenants including Dalion and twice as many Sergeants, around a large map on a table of fine oak.

"These three outer settlements have already fallen to the enemy. Survivors and refugees are moving towards Talornel along these routes." Katan spoke in a calm voice as he pointed to each of the locations along the southern edge of their forest homeland. "A scout team is to be dispatched immediately to stop the advanced raiding parties of Garothos' army and gauge their fighting strength. Five other teams will be sent out from Talornel. Select two from each of your units and have them armed and ready in one hour. Sergeant Nelian, make ready as well."

As one the elves salute and swiftly depart the chamber. Katan sighs and sits, running a hand through his long hair, his eyes never leaving the map infront of him.

Dalion moves to a cupboard in the corner, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of wine. "Have you spoken with Elena?"

Katan smiles at the mere mention of his betrothed. "Ever the big brother. Yes I saw her after I spoke with the General. She understands the situation. And you...you didn't have to volunteer so eagerly for this mission, Dalion..."

The lieutenant behind him chuckles and walks up, setting a glass of wine on the table. "And what, let you have all the fun?"

"This task is highly dangerous. We may not come back."

"All the more reason for me to come along. We've survived worse, eh? What's the worst that could happen?"

 

[Azalin91]

Telemarelak surveyed his desert realm through golden orbs, his muzzle draped lazily over a blue-scaled forearm. He snorted in contempt as he could hear a small party of his dragonspawn arguing. With a quick lash of his long tail he snapped the lot of them into the cave wall, without so much power as to destroy them, more so to warn them of his limited patience. The message was understood clearly and the small group retreated into the depths of his massive cavern. The great Blue beast never so much as looked their direction, his eyes completely focused on the seemingly endless sand before him. How he yearned for something, anything to happen. A few hundred years of nearly complete solitude had finally caught up with him, and nothing is worse then a bored Dragon.

Without further hesitation the great beast lifted its massive frame with 4 powerful legs and trudged his way into the blazing heat of the sun. The warm sand between his claws was a relief from the cold cavern. He spread his wings to warm them, basking in the heat. He stretched his powerful limbs, the cracking and shifting easily heard throughout the cavern, and let out a yawn that would bring a mortal to its knees.

"Darrux! Come!" he spoke at the end of his yawn as he slammed his arms back to the desert floor.

A few moments later the commanding officer of his blue dragonspawn was by his side. The veteran of many battles was unlike the bulk of his troop, and was able to stand his ground before the great beast, though not without a pang of fear. He was able to disguise it well. Though this not more then a few times unsettled Telemarelak, there was a grudging respect from master to servant, hence Darrux's promotion to the head of his kind.

"I will leave for civilization. I want you to sure up the defenses and see that your rabble are fighting fit while I am gone. I will not have my possessions taken from me while I stretch my wings. Remember to take any visitors alive as I want something to experiment on when I return." the great Blue craned its neck finally to cast its golden orbs down upon its favored spawn.

"Do not fail in your duties..." and with that he spread his wings and took to the sky.

He circled his domain as to soak up as much of the wonderful sun as possible and the great Blue felt like a hatchling again. How he loved his desert realm but now was a time of boredom, and he must travel. Without further delay he angled his muzzle to the north and vanished into the horizon.

 

[Donsehan]

Ara'vilar Amastacia

Ara'vilar Amastacia: I turned to leave when another of our kind came out to scream order into the barracks. I turned and mulled over whether or not to approach him, but decided not to. I then went to the castle to do the beaurocratic stuff. Heading into the castle I stood around wondering where I was supposed to go. It was the first time I had ever been to the castle, and I was checked for identity and weapons numerous times before allowed to enter. I was happy they let me have my weapons, I didn't feel like putting them back on, it would have taken a long time to do that.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Two hundred years ago...

Fiandorel​

The sun was high in the sky when she emerged from the Head Man's hut. Their discussion had been heated, but ultimately, Fiandorel and Tooernoth had come to an agreement. It was time the fisherfolk became used to seeing her as a dragon, and in return for their acceptance of her, she would keep their island safe. It would be his job to ease his people into the reality of her true form.

Excited cries greeted her and Fiandorel held her arms out, guiding the ratlings into a circle around her. They began to settle down as she began to tell the promised tale.

"There was once a hue-man who lived in fear of dying. He wanted to live forever... or at least as long as Dragons do."

"Which is a very long time, you know," Fia added solemnly.

"One day the hue-man was walking along and saw a Great White Dragon. They are the most magnificent of all," she added with a wink before going on. "At first he was filled with fear but quickly saw that there was no need as the Dragon meant him no harm."

"'Oh dragon,' he pleaded. 'I live in fear of dying and I have heard that Dragons live forever. I wish that I was like you.' Fia chuckled at her own private joke.

"The Dragon was amused but took some time to think before speaking, 'Kind man, you shall not like living forever. I will show you what it feels like.'"

"The Great White crouched low so that the hue-man could climb onto his back. Once he was settled, the Dragon carried him to an island where nobody died. There the grateful hue-man made a himself a home, expecting all sorts of marvelous things to occur."

"Over time, he became intrigued by the number of people he saw buying poison, and inquired of others as to why they were doing so. He scoffed at their answer. 'Immortality is not what it seems. You do not know the necessary pain of life. You do not enjoy the fruits of life's labors. Time stands still, and you will never know what it is like to have children and watch your children and your children's children grow up and have families and make their way in the world. You won't feel the gratification of knowing you have lived a life that has been full and complete.'"

"As time went by, the hue-man didn't fall victim to the many ills that beset one in their old age. Everything remained the same year after year. Nothing changed on this island no matter how much time passed. Eventually, he came to understand that the others, including himself, did not enjoy living forever."

"One evening, the hue-man looked into the sky and called the Dragon. 'Take me back,' he begged."

"The Dragon circled the island and landed before the man, nodding gravely. 'I see you have learned your lesson.' With that, he took the man back to his home and the friends and family he had left behind in his folly."

"And now, in many distant lands, in the direction that the morning star rises in the sky, when hue-mans see a Dragon they say: 'We are happy as we are.'"

******

Fiandorel's tale is loosely based on an old Chinese story called The Man Who Wanted to Live Forever. ~M​

 

[sodalitas]

Vetch

The journey to the shore was uneventful, the only witness to the wayward demon's descent were the few birds of prey circling the hillside and the seabirds whose call was the first sign Vetch had that he was approaching his destination, at least his immediate destination.

He knew that the chances of a coastal village happening to coincide with the section of shoreline he emerged onto were quite low; still, he was somewhat disappointed that that wasn't the case. Instead, nothing greeted him but the tide.

He needed to rest. Not so much from physical exhaustion, but because making his way to this point was the end of one goal and the beginning of another, and he needed to pause, to give his mind a moment to reorient and refocus. He walked onto the rocky shore, waded until he was knee deep, and climbed onto a large rock. He sat and faced the ocean, letting the spray of the water cleanse him of the dust of his journey.

He looked up and down the coast, attempting to find some hint of which direction would bring him closer to the civilization of the gnomes - perhaps some hidden meaning in the converging tides or in the flight patterns of the seabirds.

Useless musings. Something to keep the mind occupied while the body rested.

His gaze dropped to the water below him and he saw his own image wavering into view as the waves cleared, looking back at him until shattered by the next wave, only to reappear as before. His average-sized body had lost its fat reserves, but muscle remained. His skin seemed to have darken as well, almost ebony, and he had a more feral, more dangerous look. Starvation had tempered his body. The blurry water made it appear as if his hands merged and became one with the blades he was holding, the tubes looping from them and around to his back like ephemeral arteries outside of his skin. But it was more than that. Not having the demon lord hierarchy as the will behind his every blind action, as was the case when he was part of the horde, had forced him to make his own way, to take
accountability for his own destiny. He had almost been broken in the caverns, surrounded by Garothos' men in their unknowing siege, but he had rallied his spirit and had emerged, victorious. His spirit and body, given self-appointed purpose.

"And what does that mean for returing to the horde", he asked himself. "Would I be content to resume my former place?" He stared at his reflection, searching his eyes for his own answers.

Over and over again, he watched the force of the ocean deconstruct and then reconstruct him.

As this continent had done.

Finding no answers beneath him in the everchanging water, he raised his face to the sky. He breathed deep, and noticed the seabirds circling something. Something that seemed to be approaching the shore, a good distance to the left. Though he couldn't see what it was, there was only one thing that made sense. A boat, returning to port. There was a city there, discovered by the flight patterns of the seabirds.

Useless musings, indeed.

 

[cats]

Valerie

IC: I quickly searched the ships as they left port, and to my joy I found my target on the third ship. She jumped into the water and sank beneath the surface. I considered what her plans were, perhaps she knew as a spell caster I wouldn't be able to cast spells, perhaps she thought I was disadvantaged. As a member of the undead I didn't need air to survive. All the same, I didn't like the idea of being wet. "She'll come up for air sooner or later."

To my surprise she had already come up, and was directly behind me. Perhaps I was to focused on details to hear the dripping water. She pulled me into the water behind us and I no longer had to worry about my clothing getting wet.

As an elf I used to celebrate the freedom of nature, and that often involved swimming, how ever in my long life as a lich I didn't particularly care for it. With thanifex in hand this fight wouldn't be to difficult, so naturally I was more then a little annoyed as I watched my weapon sink into the abyss.

This mission, wasn't overly difficult or even challenging thus far, but it had become annoying. What I need is some one to do these so I could concentrate on tasks worth my attention. Some assassin would be more then capable of handling this sort of thing, so why did I have to degrade myself.

The assassin held my tight to her body perhaps a bit puzzled as to why I hadn't struggled. The truth was if she could not find my phylactery she wasn't much of a threat the worse she could do is stop me for a few days and destroy some gear. All the same I grew weary of her breasts pressing into my back, the way her nipples hard in the cold water pressed into me from her breasts. The way her arm gripped my lovely waist and held it firmly in place. The way her knife brushed against the lifeless veins of my neck. Soon I wouldn't be the only nonliving thing in the water.

I skillfully turned myself out of the hand gripping my waist, as I did so her knife slit my lovely bare neck. From her eyes she probably wondered why no blood leaked from the flawless ivory skin of my slender elven neck. Perhaps she now knew what she had gotten herself into. I waited for her to either try and attack me again or move to the surface. My plan was to hold her underwater until she passed out powerless, so it mattered not if she tried to fight me down here or if she tried to reach the surface. If she fled I would hold her down. If she attacked I'd try and move above her so I could keep her down.

 

[Azalin91]

Telemarelak glided over his realm, taking in the beauty of the sand, the heat of the sun's rays, the solitude of the Oliarch desert. It was a rarity that anyone ventured into his portion of the world, to which he was highly greatful, though not without a slight pang of regret. He love dhis solitude. While alone, save for his dragonspawn, his life was one devoid of insufferable stupidity. He had no tolerance for fools and this world was ripe with an unlimited supply of them. The further he was from society the less likely he would have to deal with complete idiots...but boredom.

He was truly bored. What was life without some action, some challenge? As the years rolled by the great Blue found himself starved for change and he could no longer sit about hopelessly waiting for some fool to stumble into his realm; some glory seeking treasure hunter looking to best the great Blue Dragon of the Oliarch. He needed something to draw his attentions from the cave and he needed it now.

It would take him no more than an hour to leave his desert realm behind as the border was not far from his current position. Where he would go was uncertain, but he knew teh hand of fate would guide him. He musn't linger for too long of course, for Darrux, though trusted, was no Dragon. It wouldn't be safe for all his worldy treasures to be in the hands of a dragonspawn for a lengthy period of time. If Telemarelak wanted to return to his home as it was he would not want to remain distant for too long, or was this his craving for solitude poking its ugly head into the mind of the Blue?

He shook his head, a snort of air pouring from his snout in disgust. "I am not gone for more than a half hour before I want to return..." and with that he set his wings to a powerful beat and picked up the pace. He would see himself away from this place as soon as possible.

 

[rengadeirishman]

He army had arrived at irongate and Eirik climbed off his trike, and gathered his honor guard. They progressed to the throne room and met with the king. "Your majesty," Eirik said dropping to his knee. "You summoned me and my army?"

 

[Morgoth]

King Gordrin Fortindorl

King Fortindorl veritably leapt from his throne, rushing over to Eirik and embracing him as he would a brother. Hurriedly, he grabbed Eirik by the shoulder and led him to a sprawling military map, detailing the nation of Stronleg. Multiple figures showed the dwarven armies, garrissons, and fortresses. Others showed the forces of the Prelven Empire.

The latter set of figures dominated the map - there were too many to count, all along the borders.

"By the Three, it's good to see you, Thane Bloodaxe! Those thrice-cursed whoresons are pushing in from all flanks! We're receiving report after report that our ports are being overrun - all our defense forces are fleeing, and the armies we've sent are routed! Good Gods, Eirik, their armies have no end to them! They pour in, wave after unceasing wave. What do you advise, Thane? We seek your counsel."

 

[Morgoth]

Guard Captain Ul'Trosier

Ara'vilar was briskly escorted into the presence of a large, powerful-looking Elf drabbed entirely in a heavy set of plate. Although unarmed, Guard Captain Ul'Trosier was still a sight to behold - standing seven and a half feet (tall for any elf) and scowling like the very Scythe of Holvidrien. Upon seeing Ara'vilar, Ul'Trosier sighed.

His voice was harsh, grating like rock on iron. "Whut'll it be? Anuther new recroot, eh? Eh? Eh?"

 

[Morgoth]

The Lord General Ustivel Stringoral

Ustivel was unaspiring, for a Demon. He only stood five feet, six inches. His face was bland, uninteresting, with pale, blue eyes that seemed to stare constantly in all directions. Thinning blonde hair was splashed across his head, and his mouth moved constantly in what appeared to be a slight nervous twitch. His clothes reflected his physical features. Simple chain armor splayed across weak limbs left him unimpressive, at best.

Nevertheless, this was the fabled Ustivel Stringoral, unbested in combat or all manners of warfare. His strategy, impeccable. His prowess, uncontested. His charm, overwhelming. His intellect, colossal. His love for his people, unsurpassed. And their love for him, all-consuming.

Ustivel beckoned Uchantus to enter and be seated. "Hail, Lord Lynn! May the blood of your enemies stain your sword and the fruits of peace be picked by your hand! I hear troubling news, my Lord. News that you have left your holdings? Surely, my Lord Lynn, this cannot be true? Mordien would suffer sorely without your blade."

 

[Screech]

At last!

It had been a long wait, and with all the beuocracy involved, an even longer boarding, but Cecil was finally onboard the Zephyr. And what a sight it was to behold! The gondola was huge, and conprised of three decks. On the top was the luxury open-air observation deck. Steel-frame chairs sat infront of large looking-glasses, which were attached to the most exquisitely crafted railings inset with veings of gold and silver. Below was the common room, but the word 'common' could harldy describe it. Polished oak tables were set at intalas, and cushioned high-back chairs were placed throughout the room. Finely woven carpets lined the floor, just as tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, interspersed with round veiwing ports. One secion of wall even had a bookshelf crammed with literature of all verietes. The bottom section, however, was not as finely decorated as the rest, as it was just for cargo stowage.

Cecil wandered to himself just how much this marvel of the modern age cost to build, as he pulled a book titled "The Hand" from the bookshelf and started to flich through it's pages.

And a marvel it was! Cecil didn't even notice that it had taken off until the Gnomish captain announced that they were moving out of the copperspine mountain range, so smooth was the ride. Also, he mentioned that they would be stopping off at a small village before continuing their journey onto the Dwarven realm to pick up a Gnome of some importace...

After having finished the book, and placing it back on the shelf, Cecil walked to ove of the viewing ports and gazed out at the landscape below. It seemed that the Zephyr was loosing altitude. Probably going in to land. The site was hilly, but not nearly as much as the Gnomish city he called home. Suddenly, Cecil was braught out of his musings as he caught sight of something by the edge of a stream a short distance beyond the hills. It was small from this distance, and looked humanish, but was far too big for a Gnome. And, if he recalled, Gnomes were all that lived in this particular region... The descent past the hills prevented a second look, and all Cecil could do was wonder just what it was he had seen

 

[sodalitas]

Vetch

Vetch tried to follow the coastline but quickly found his way blocked by impassable rock cliffs jutting out into the water. Luckily an ancient river had once made its way to the sea here, and as it had died into a mere stream over the years it had left a ravine, providing a scalable pass rising into the hills, more or less in the direction he was heading.

As he followed the ravine it gradually inclined until his eyes were no longer constrained by the height of the ravine's sides, and what he saw left him awestruck.

A huge ship of some kind floating in the air. It was monstrous, and it was slowly descending towards the area Vetch was heading, lending more credibility to his guess that there was a town there.

A multitude of things crossed his mind at once, including: think of the tactical advantage in being able to see so much at once, or being able to move troops so quickly, or dropping magic on the enemy from a safe distance! Followed quickly by: this could be the way off this continent!

It was obviously some sort of military transport, he decided, and as such would be heavily guarded. He would have to either sneak aboard and risk being found, or somehow buy his way across. Either way, he needed a closer look.

He ran in the direction of the airship's descent, and soon was in sight of the town itself. It seemed to be a mid size town with a small port. It didn't have a defensive wall but it did have some buildings near the docks with strange contraptions on the roofs, possibly weapons or alarm systems to warn of attacks via the water. In fact, as he looked closer he could tell that there were a number of oddites about the town. Buildings with odd shapes, or with smokestacks, or other things he couldn't make out.

He didn't see an area in the town that was large enough to land the airship, so he decided it would probably land in a relatively flat section of land outside of town. He took off in that direction, hoping to get close enough to position himself and get a good look before it landed and emptied itself of its troops.

 

[rengadeirishman]

Eirik leaned over the table and looked with an expression of grim determination. "No invader has ever conquered Stronleg yet, never even close, what will our ancestors say of us if it happens now?" he looked again "Simply put we need to destroy our own ports, destroy all the docks warehouses, down to the last fish shack off the wharf, we must give them no place to retire too but the field, they are soft, the hardships of the field will wear on them. Artillery, bombs, for the sake of the three we'll throw rocks at the bastards, but we have to destroy those ports, winter is coming, and no climate in prelven is more unforgiving then a good dwarven winter. They cannot assail our mountains, its impossible, we can harry them in the field and retreat to our mountains. assail them from the flanks, our technology is greater, and thus our mobility. They are fanatics, they wish to die for that bastard Garothos, and who better to grant such wishes then the dwarves?"

 

[Morgoth]

King Gordrin Fortindorl

The King stared silently at Eirik for unceasing, brutal minutes. The room was hushed - the generals there assembled, the retainers, the courtiers, the nobles all stepped away.

Suddenly, he slammed his fist down on the table. The ancient, sturdy oak buckled and splintered under the force. "By the Gods, Eirik! Are we so desperate that we will ravage ourselves? Do we murder our own kin?" the King whispered, maintaining his unrelenting stare.

Eirik knew that this question had no answer he could provide. This was often how Gordrin came to decisions - by posing the questions that had no answers.

The King broke his look. He straightened, striding to his tall throne. With one hand, he reached to the helm that had sat unused on the pedestal to the left of that mighty seat for two Ages. Slowly, he lifted it and donned it. Might slipped onto his head smoothly, and he felt the power of his ancestors flow through him.

He turned, looking only at Eirik. "I am Gordrin Fortindorl, son of Uldrion Fortindorl, son of Malgrin Fortindorl, son of Plearn Fortindorl, son of Retornel the First."

He yanked forth the small hand axe that hung at his belt, moving to the table. "For the first time in two Ages, the King of the Dwarves shall introduce blood to his blade. The Dwarves shall ride to war! Eirik, I hereby grant you authority over the blades, rifles, and cannon of Stronleg! You now answer only to King of the Dwarves. Eirik, muster the men. Stronleg will not fall! The Dwarves will not fall! We will bleed Garothos until he has nothing left. We will turn the Prelven Empire into a lifeless waste!" With that, he drove the axe into the table. "So ends the peace of the Dwarves!"

The King walked to the throne, pulling the enormous claymore from the pedestal where it rested to the right of the throne. He raised it before him, staring in awe at Justice as the prowess of all the Dwarven Kings of the past flooded through him.

"Now, Eirik! To war!"

 

[RoneLith]

Lord Uchantus

Uchantus entered and remained standing, politely refuseing the offer of a seat. He would not be long here as he was only bound by his honor to tell his commanding officer what his plans are.

"Yes M'Lord it is true, I have sold my holdings." He gazed past commanders uninspiring form, as if seeing through him. "You will not miss me, my men have already been transferd into the hord, and as such have been ordered to form their elite unit and lead themselves until the day I return. I have given them the explicit orders that they are to follow your words and only your words." He paused, pride in his men filled his heart. "Use them as a presise tool, they will not dissapoint." He cracked the slightest of smiles. "It is the job they have always done."

His features returned to their stoic and emotionless exspression before he continued on. "I have come to tell you that, yes I am leaving. I will sereve our race better by not being in the thick of combat when Garathos rolls over the Drwaves and Gnomes before comming here. Were I not to leave at this point we would all be doomed." His words held a hard tone, useally only used when he did not want to be questioned. "However, by leaving now I will ensure us a chance in the comming battle." He bowed his salute before taking a step back to the door. Not planning to leave just yet but soon, he awaited the enivitable question.

 

[Morgoth]

Lord General Ustivel Stringoral

Ustivel remained silent through Uchantus's brief explanation. The smile he'd been wearing previously slowly melted away, until he heard, "However, by leaving now I will ensure us a chance in the comming battle."

Ustivel's eyebrow perked up. "Indeed, my Lord Lynn. Would you share this oh so imperative bit of information with me? My Lord, you've piqued my interest - surely, you won't disappoint."

 

[rengadeirishman]

Eirik saluted with a fist to his heart "By your command majesty," Eirik turned and walked from the room, noticing the trepidation on the faces of many of the courtiers and nobles, fat, weak dwarves who shunned glorious battle for the comforts of beer and meat and the hearth "My noble lords," he said with a slight smirk, just inside the door of the chamber feeling their eyes on him "I do believe your axes need sharpening, your warhammers shining. You have bodygaurds to marshal to the main army. If your armor is rusted and too small from your disuse of it, I offer you the services of my smiths to prepare them, step lively great dwarves of stronleg, we have war to attend to." a servant of the king presented Eirik with the amulet of his new office as Arkhan of the dwarves. He thanked the servant and left the room to adjourn to his office where he would marshal the dwarves. As he got there he found messengers waiting for him. "Call all available regimental commanders, tell them to join me in the war room with exact figures of men, munitions, arms and capabilities, within the next six hours." he said as he placed his helm on the desk and started taking off his armor "Oh and bring me some tea when you get a chance, I'd appreciate it."

 

[RoneLith]

Lord Uchantus

"Killing their leader will end this stuggle. Numbers cannot win this war, surely you must see that. Killing his men will not kill the root of the problem." He paused a minute and stood to his full height, his heart filling with its desire to begin his journey. His eyes belied his stoic exspression and the fire burst forth, transforming his human appearing eyes to his tigers eyes. His voice took on a guteral growl as he spoke his next words. "Sure we may win against his men but that will not solve the problem, I have not come to this decision lightly nor without many sleepless night determining if this is the correct path, but my heart screams at me I MUST destory him or be destoryed with the rest of the world." The floor had seemed to tremble at his words as he let out a small amount of his soul and power, slowly he regained his rage. He returned his eyes to their human form and faced his commander. His voice returning to its useal cold demeanor. "My heart is set, I do not seek permission and I came here bound by my honor to inform you. All I ask is that you keep our lands strong and alive to give me time to destroy him." He saluted for what would probably be the last time and stepped back to the door, prepareing to leave.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Two hundred summers ago...

Fiandorel​

Fia continued to tell wondrous stories of Dragons and their exploits over the ages. The fisherfolk began to look forward to hearing more of the magnificent beasts, and soon both she and Tooernoth agreed that it was 'time'. Time to introduce Fiandorel to the villagers in her true form.

On the day she deigned to reveal herself, Fiandorel woke early to feed and bathe in the mountain pool. The day was much like any other except today she would fly to the village instead of morphing into Fia and walking as she had been since her first meeting with Tooernoth.

As she circled over the village, Fiandorel glanced downward. She could see Tooernoth in the middle of the clearing pointing upward and some of the Lesser Beings running for shelter. There appeared to be a mixture of fear and fascination among the hue-mans as she flew ever lower, making one last swoop before landing.

The magnificent White hunkered down, lowering her enormous head to a level that was more solicitous to the fisherfolks' diminutive size. The Head Man was busily trying to calm those who had run for weapons and others who were trying to shelter the ratlings and herd them to safety. Despite their best efforts, the fearless younglings ran to Fiandorel, touching and petting her while she murmured comforting sounds not unlike the contented purring of a cat.
Eventually, others drew near (albeit cautiously) and the great White found herself chuckling aloud at the more cowardly, a great booming laugh that was at once deep and lyrical. "You did not fear me as you sat listening to tales of my kindred, yet you fear me now."

The thought amused Fiandorel, though she knew the victory was hers. Fears in children are increased by tales but can also be lessened thus. And she had told her tales well.

 

[Screech]

The Zephyr landed just outside of the small Gnomish town, and already there was a crowd surrounding the landing site. Obviously, the threat of war could do little to distract the Gnomes from their love of innovation and technology. As soon as the main hatch opened and the passengers climbed out, they were swamped with questions.

Cecil emerged and steered clear of the crowd (who were still busy questioning all the Gnomish passengers). He needed to find out just what he had seen on the way down. Absently padding down his smoking jacket, he felt the familiar shape of his twin revolvers. If what was out there was hostile, Cecil would have to defend himself...

 

[rengadeirishman]

Eirik had arrived at the warroom, as he walked into the door one of his honour guards barked "All Rise, Arkhan enters." The assembled generals, many of whom had been friends of his father and had known him since he was born rose resplendent in armor and weapons. "At ease mighty warriors of Stronleg." a phrase he knew he could use, in Stronleg, unlike many places, Generals weren't decided on noble birth, but on proven skill in war. His fathers sworn brother, a mighty dwarf named Rurik Stoneblade, spoke to him as he entered "Arkhan eh? your father would be proud, Arkhan's are not named unless there is great need, and i can think of no dwarf more fit then you." "Many thanks Uncle Rurik." Eirik said. "Take your seats dwarf-lords, we have business to attend to." All of the generals submitted their reports, all of which stated that the full army could not be marshalled until two days hence, and that the dwarves were outnumbered at the least 3-1 some as high as 5-1. Eirik looked down at the table. "Well, the greater the odds, the greater the glory, Never forget noble warrior, we may be outnumbered, but we are not Outdwarved. Who can lay claim to being superior to the dwarves in battle?" he then outlined his flanking plan, involving fast attack units covering artillery being brought in behind them to decimate the ports with a strong unit of steam-knights (warriors mounted on steam trikes, powered by steam and magic making them faster then horses.) in the middle with heavy infantry right behind them, with riflemen and snipers on the wings of the middle formation. "Any improvements anyone has, feel free to submit them, I am one dwarf, and i am not perfect, its why we have a war council."

 

[sodalitas]

Vetch

Vetch ascended to a clear vantage point in time to see the huge airship settle onto the ground. It made far less noise than he had expected, and so he was able to hear the excitement of the town's inhabitants as they approached the vehicle.

He paid them only passing notice as he focused on the door. He was surprised when it finally opened and out poured gnomish civilians, most of them fancily dressed. Instead of a military vehicle, as he had originally suspected, it almost appeared as if it were more of a pleasure craft of some kind. If so, it was one of the most blatant misuses of technology he had ever witnessed. He was sure the dwarves never would have turned this into a transport for the wealthy and the nobility.

He had to get closer to find out more, but he was leery of approaching the large group as he was probably pretty frightening in his current state. Perhaps if he could find a large cloak of some kind he would be able to hide his most alarming aspects, such as the dried blood and the tubes coming out of his back. That didn't look promising, most of the inhabitants were shorter than he was and he didn't think they would leave their cloaks lying around.

Instead, he decided to approach as close as he could outside of the field of vision of the large audience in front of the ship's doors and look for an opportunity to approach a smaller group. what he wouldn't give for some of Rhiv's luck right now!

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Two hundred summers ago...

Fiandorel​

The fisherfolk grew more and more at ease with Fiandorel's true appearance as time passed. Her gentle playfulness when with the younglings soon won over those who were less accepting as well. She was well-pleased by this, for Fiandorel had a concern that held something greater at stake than her co-existence with the hue-mans.

She came less and less often in the shape of Fia as her belly began to swell. The oldwives whispered amongst themselves at this change in her appearance, for it was something a woman always recognized in another. The Dragon was going to give birth.

This was the reason Fiandorel had been so concerned about living in harmony with the fisherfolk. It was not for herself, but the safety of her hatchlings that she was concerned. As long as she lived away from other Dragons, her babes would be in constant danger, for hue-mans killed what they feared, even amongst their own. And yet, if she were to return to her own kind...

Unable to change or alter her fate, Fiandorel's days passed quietly, occupied in leisurely pursuits. She had prepared a makeshift hatchery for herself, the hotsprings that bubbled up from the floor of the volcano providing the required warmth.

The fisherfolk, well-known for their skills in weaving nets and ropes had created a walkway leading down into the cone of the volcano where the dragon made her lair. The old wives had insisted and who were the menfolk to refuse. After all, if the wives were not happy, neither would their men be.

And so the time came for Fiandorel to lay her clutch of eggs. There were not many. Only three.

Days passed into night and back again as Fiandorel tended them. She purred and chirrupped to the eggs, singing Dragon songs as she had seen others from the Colony do. The oldwives from the village hovered near, making sure their menfolk provided the most tender of beasts for their Dragon to feed on.

Although, Fiandorel yearned to stretch her wings and soar in the night skies, she would not and guarded her clutch with her life, for they were precious to her. Unlike many of her kind, she revered all forms of life -- even that of Lesser Beings -- and the trust she had put in them was proving to be well-founded, as was theirs in her.