[Forum Game] Shadow of Gods and Empires

[oxfordroyale]

Mira Valturis, Captain of the Tattered Banners​

Upon hearing the dwarf's offer, Mira Valturis smiled. It was an expression that contained no warmth or joy of any kind - it was, rather, something more akin to the snarl of a wolf who has cornered its prey. A sellsword of seven years experience, she had learned to recognize a good deal when she saw it, and this certainly qualified.

Even so, out of habit Mira began to calculate the costs and weigh the positives and negatives in her head. 20 gold crowns ... we could increase our size by a quarter with that kind of money. The men need new weapons too, and this could help pay for them ... yes, this will be satisfactory. More than satisfactory.

"Very well. For the price you have offered, myself and my men shall fight against the armies of Mankar on your behalf, under your banner." Mira stood and walked over to the dwarf. "However, I must insist that I take charge of command personally. In past contracts with nobility, I have been unfortunate enough to deal with those who fancy themselves particularly skilled at strategy, and are determined to lead the army into battle - often with disastrous results. But that was another time, and with different men. Now that I have my own company, this will not occur. If the Tattered Banners are going to fight for you, they shall do it my way, and my way only. If that is not an issue here, then I will gladly sign a contract with you."

 

[BlackBishop]

Isembard Bronzefinger
Noble

"I have seen enough war to last two lifetimes, my good Captain. I intend to rest my axe and shoulder my hoe. Command is yours, I only ask you hold my banner high. We have a deal."​

 

[oxfordroyale]

Mira Valturis, Captain of the Tattered Banners​

"Very well, then - we have a deal. The Tattered Banners shall march against Mankar's forces as soon as possible, and we shall do so under the banner of Isembard. With luck, we shall pay him back in blood for the ruin he has brought upon your family."

The Tattered Banners have entered into a contract with Isembard Bronzefinger to fight the armies of Mankar.

 

[jeeshadow]

Aye on assistance for canton. ((can't bold on phone))

 

[BlackBishop]

Upgrades

Swornswords
(25 gp/50 Swornswords)
Swornswords are the backbone of Wuldbreach's fighting forces. Sometimes referred to as knights or thanes, swornswords are well trained and skilled fighters of the soldier class of the city. Swornswords hold solemn vows to their lord and risk life and limb for the will of their masters. In return, swornswords are given an honoured place among a noble's household, traditionally dwelling within the manse of their lord. They are also very well paid, a stipend of 500 silver crowns is typical upon oath, plus free room and board and regular tithes for service. The Iron District is full of aspiring soldiers that dream of one day serving a noble as a swornsword.

Warship
((25 gp))
The free cities of the Shattered Isles owe their very survival on the bountiful sea. From food to trade, the Godseye Sea represents a wealth of resources from which the cities use to sustain themselves. As such, waters of the cities are fiercely protected. Warships, typically galleons, dromonds and longboats are employed by the various nobles of Wuldbreach to protect their interests within the Godseye.
Something of a status symbol, only the wealthiest of nobles can claim ownership of these fortresses of the sea.

Estate
A character's estate represents all the land and building under his/her ownership. While everyone begins the game with an ample estate, a mansion and a bonus structure based on background, any expansion is often a gamble.
Unlike troops and ships, estate costs are impossible to gauge. Buying a plot of land and building may be impacted by weather, corrupt guildsmen, a rival saboteur, etc. Orders to expand an estate are met with a roll to determine cost. Taking advantage of the political climate and other factors when expanding your estate is a good method to counter this.
A current list includes; Barracks (300 troops cap), Pier (Free Ship), Warehouse (10gp/turn), Farm (1000 levy), etc. The list is meant to be free form, with the player and myself determining the bonus and nature of the structure, so feel free to approach me on any ideas you have regarding your estate.
​

 

[aedan777]

Vote Aye on Canton Assistance

 

[DeMarchese]

Chaelas Nyvmrail 'the Fair'​

Yay on anton Assistance.

 

[Tapscott]

Yay - Canton Assistance

 

[BlackBishop]

((Update coming tonight. Get your orders in if you haven't already.))

 

[BlackBishop]

Summer's Strife
~Fire Season, 894 AoE

The Red Bastards lead the campaign against Mankar Stilvist

The Fire Season is typically a time of raids and war throughout the Shattered Isles, and indeed much of Tha'Wuld. Fewer hands are needed to mend the fields and thus lords often swell the ranks of their armies with the peasantry. In the city of Wuldbreach, the hunger for violence was one long sated. Most fields were bare and the trade lane from Great Canton was under threat from the pirate lord Razur. Sure to be an atypical summer, the Council, in their wisdom, voted against raising the cotters to arms, sensing the animosity held by the lower class. Instead a force of nobles and their swornswords were mustered to fight against the rebel Mankar Stilivist, under the leadership of Captain-General Gregor Trask, entrusted with the Standard of Princes.

Trask and his company, the Red Bastards, had experience fighting Mankar's forces, and hopes were high that the former prince would finally be brought to justice. As the army of professional soldiers and nobles marched to join Trask, already encamped beyond the city and hunting for Mankar, a special council was convened to answer the threat of Razur. Azizi Zelsavar came forward to lead the city's fleet against his foe, Razur. Once again the Standard of Princes was handed to Azizi and he was named Admiral of Wuldbreach's fleet. With the fleet and army departed to secure the interests of the Council, the Princes remained to work toward calming the unrest in the city. Thus far, the Princes had only succeeded in securing a lasting peace within the Gold District, turmoil was rampant throughout the greater city.

Princess Berdanburg spearheaded the effort to expand the city's fishing capacity, pushing a motion through the council that would award the Shipwright Guild with a lucrative contract to build a score of fishing vessels. The effort was marred with setback after setback. Starving labourers were difficult to keep in line, and even a score of hangings held by the Guildmaster had the opposite of the desired effect, causing a riot in the Harbour District. In the ensuing chaos the Beastfolk disappeared, their makeshift camp abandoned.

Princess Berdanburg, with her personal honourguard, entered the Harbour District amidst the chaos, and proceeded to negotiate a monopoly on the fishing industry. As the district burned, Berdanburg was successful in purchasing several ships from carls and nobles. Finally, after troops under the command of Prince Veltupars restored order, construction continued once again. The hope for an early catch was dashed, but in the final weeks of the season, it was apparent that the fishing would yield abundant food. Seeing the potential for profits, carls and nobles refused Berdanburg's offers on their vessels, though she did manage to expand her estate.

((Fishing Increased, 25gp deducted from the treasury. Berdanburg purchased a fishing fleet for 10 gc))

Fearing what lay ahead for Wuldbreach, Prince Chaelas Nyvmrail rallied his followers and departed the city. Journeying to loyalist farmlands, the prince presided over a great hunt, trapping wild game, bears, deer and boar predominantly. Though expensive to trap, and hotly demanded to fill their bellies, the prince and his followers instead sacrificed the game to the Wuld Mother, to bless the fields. The following months were spent spreading seed and tending crops. By Fire Season's end, the fields were lush and bountiful, not nearly enough to feed the city, but would do well to ease demand. Nyvmrail's success could be attributed to two things, the efforts of the army that kept Mankar's saboteurs at bay, and the blessing of the Wuld Mother, who blessed the crop so that it was as if grown for a year, rather then a few short months.

((A small harvest will supply Wuldbreach during next season. Prince Nyvmrail gains a farm, lose 10gc.))

While disgruntled labourers clash with the Shipwrights Guild in the Harbour District, and Prince Nyvmrail toils in fields outside the city, a string of grisly murders mar the already beleaguered Copper District. Initial fears and some reports indicated the vanished beastfolk, but soon scores of witnesses aome forward telling of one eyed men murdering people in the dead of night. Prince Geilli the Kind, connecting these men to the murder of the Council solider at the Phoenix Gate, moves into the district to investigate. Geilli is soon accosted by the cultists of the One Eyed God, a bloody battle ensues and twenty-five of Geilli's acolytes are slain, the holy prince himself captured. With dozens of the poor dead, sacrificed in the streets to the One-Eyed God, and the holy prince's whereabouts unknown, the district experiences a mass exodus of panicked nobles, carls and cotters. In the ensuing panic, riots and fires once again scour district.

((Prince Geilli is captured by One Eye cultists. 25 Acolytes slain.))

Azizi Zelsevar sailed aboard his ship early in Fire Season, yet trusted agents of his household remained in Wuldbreach to procure property for their lord. Having made profitable friendships in Great Canton, the adventurous noble was fast becoming one of the richest men in the city, and as such he entrusted the expansion of his estate to his stewards. Eyeing a mansion in the Silver District before his departure, Azizi left instructions to purchase the property, hoping to secure a good deal given the state of unrest the city endures. Though he was able to purchase the property cheaply, the process of converting it to his desired business proved costly. Shipping beautiful women from Canton, whilst keeping his dealings quiet from the Lord-Archon, was expensive, but hopefully worth the trouble. By the end of Fire Season, the Silver District was home to a busy brothel of Canton beauties to relieve the many stresses the nobles of Wuldbreach suffer of late. Stewards also sought to acquire property in the Harbour District, however their efforts were chiefly occupied by Azizi's expansion in the Silver District and no progress could be made by the end of the season.

((Brothel purchased by Azizi Zelsavar at a cost of 25gp))

Prince Baldur Vitupars remained stalwart in his efforts of maintaining order in Wuldbreach. He succeeded in dispersing the riot against the Shipwright Guild, and his ship put to sea to maintain a safe perimeter for fishing vessels to work in peace. The presence of his troops in the Harbour District were hoped to attract more vessels, but alas word was already far and wide across the Shattered Isles and beyond of the peril of docking at Wuldbreach. The docks were sparsely trafficked despite the prince's efforts. He did earn some coin, however, partaking in fishing operations, but alas facing stiff competition from Princess Berdanburg and Prince Morin, he could have fared better.

((Prince Vitupars earns 5gp))

Prince Morin, like Vitupars, patrolled the waters surrounding the city. Casting nets to fish, he was able to bring a fine haul to harbour, giving much away and only charging enough to cover the expenditure of the trip, breaking even.

On a favoured wind, Azizi Zelsavar led the Wuldbreach fleet south, along the coast of Breach. South of the isle, Azizi rendezvoused with the Canton fleet, finding Lord-Archon Al Su-ad himself in command. Su'ad made no secret of his displeasure that Wuldbreach only raised four ships, and only one prince pledged his personal warship; Prince Kafka Eliesburg, commanded by cousin of the prince, Gofsried Eliesburg.

The joined fleets of Wuldbreach and Canton sailed a course toward Bloodshed, where the pirate Razur was believed to be hiding. Su'ad and Zelsavar concocted a strategy. The Archon would send a single ship, posing as a merchant vessel in distress, to sail near the Bloodshed coast, and lure Razur from his island stronghold. For weeks they attempted the strategy with no success. Frustrated, Su'ad resolved to bring the fleet closer to the forsaken isle, his bait ship daring even closer to the free city of Bloodshed. Captain Gofsried warned Su'ad that such could spark a confrontation with the free city, but the lord-archon was resolved to save his son. Deaf to any warnings, Su'ad ordered the fleet closer to Bloodshed.

Meanwhile, back in Breach, several skirmishes had pointed Captain-General Trask closer to Mankar's army. His force was now fully marshaled, and an impressive force of nearly 600 professional soldiers were at his command, the largest contributors being Trask's Red Bastards, Isembard, Prince Vitupars, Giantsbane and various other noble families. The army was now over a days ride by horse from the city, near the western coast of the island. Fighting outriders had brought the army further out from the city, and Trask was now growing concerned. Caution was his chief concern over the course of this campaign, and he had already fallen into one of Mankar's traps before. Upon slaying a group of scouts, one emerged from a sparse forest and rode with gods' speed toward the coastline, not bothering to cover tracks nor conceal himself from the army's eyes.

Olaf Giantsbane advised the army give full pursuit, and root out Mankar once and for all. Trask on the other hand had little desire to march into another of Mankar's traps. It was Mira Valturis, captain of the Tattered Banners, that advised a third option. Heeding her counsel, Trask dispatched a small group to give chase and learn his destination, while the army maintained a defensive position from the coast. The following day the scouts returned with dire news, Mankar's host gathered at the coast with a force of eight thousand, and a fleet of five ships anchored within bowshot.

Suddenly feeling exposed, and not expecting such a large host gathered so quickly, Trask prepared to retreat back to the safety of the city. While Lord-Forsworn Giantsbane counseled a heedless charge, Trask heeded to caution. He refused to be caught up within range of the dromonds that threatened from the Godseye. Turning to his lieutenant Vlora, Trask orders horse archers to assault the outer ranks of Mankar's host as Trask marches the army inland. Vlora's sortie is a success, and soon Mankar's army splinters, and three thousand march toward Trask from the cover of their fleet.

Luring them to a hill, Vlora reports the army consists of peasants. Heartening news to the seasoned fighters of the Wuldbreach army. Though outnumbered, they are better trained and equipped. The rebel host soon surround the hill, as Trask sets up a hasty defense, and Valturis leads bold sorties against the rebel ranks waving the banner of Isembard. A day passes, and still the army does not charge the hill. One of Valturis' sellswords takes an arrow to his thigh, giving the sellsword captain cause to rest and look after her wounded soldier, meanwhile another noble takes command of the sortie, a Sharod of the Silver District. Arrogant, Sharod leads his column of calvary too deep in the enemy ranks, and he and some of his men are slain as they retreat.

Night settles in and still the rebels do not charge. Trask orders some volleys of arrows to strike at them, but the rebels only curse, swear and evade his vollies. Expecting a charge at the night's darkest hour, Trask orders a vigilant watch, but still they do not charge, instead they light large fires all around the hill. The smell of roasting meat and potatoes is soon carried on a wind and fills the nostrils of the army. The soldiers salivate and rub their hungry bellies, throwing curses of their own at the rebels, and demanding where they found such fine fare.

Before dawn broke, a doe emerged from the pre-dawn gloom, slowly walking up the hill. Somehow evading all watchers, it made it's way to Trask's tent, it's hooves kicking at the dirt just outside the entrance flap of the general's tent. Shaking off an uneasy sleep, the general opens the flap and looks on at the deer. It's fur is bristled and stands on end, it curls it's lips up baring it's teeth, and madly slams it's head down hard against a rock, a scream emitting from it's throat as it's one eye is smashed open by the jagged stone. As guards emerge to investigate the commotion, the deer lunges forward, and disappears down the hill. In awe, Trask and his guards stand dumbfounded when a horn summons the camp to rise. The rebels finally charge.

A hastely dug trench is the only protection the army had time to dig, yet it does afford them some time as it slows the march of the rebels, and offers targets to their archers. A volley of arrows greets the approaching rebels, and covering shots from behind are sloppy and miss their marks. Soon, the advancing rebels are driven back. What seems hours later, the fiends attempt another incursion, approaching from another point on the opposite slope of the hill. Again they are driven back, but this time Valturis gives chase, and cuts down many before returning atop the hill. All morning this goes on, the rebel forces push against the defenders to be driven back. It is a tactic the leaders of the Wuldbreach army are familiar with; a systematic test of their defenses. It is clear that though the rebel consists of peasants, a tactician leads them.

With the hot sun now high in the sky, and every messenger bird shot down by rebel archers, the soldiers begin to urge more and more for a forced march from the hill back to the city. Then a war-horn sounds, and the rebels charge the hill from all sides. Olaf Giantsbane and his priests attempt to repel from the northern side of the hill. Men ascend the hill by the hundreds, firing volleys of arrows to cover their advance. Olaf and his priests cast magic at the oncoming rebels, their voices booming like thunder, sending the enemy into disarray. Concerned more with shielding their ears from the shouts of Oranth's disciples, the rebels are easily hacked down by the blade of Inim-shara and his followers, and soon retreated.

Valturis, on the east side of the camp, is assaulted by a force of one thousand strong. Driving the banner of Isembard deep into the wuld, she greets the rebels with a war cry and the fury of her sword. A giant of a man, a simple farmer yet strong as an oxe, hollers commands at his fellow rebels. Standing eight feet tall, he swings a great mace in two hands, collapsing the chestplate of one of the Tattered Banners' troops. The opening in the defensive line allows rebels to begin pouring through. Expecting to raid the camp supplies, or attack Trask was soon dashed when the infiltrators instead came face to face with Valturis.

The sellsword captain had been paid well to bring honour to Isembard Clan, and it is below the dwarven banner that she would spill the blood of rebels. Several came at her at once, but they were mere farmhands, compeled to fight for food and empty promises. Valturis on the other hand was a professional soldier, seasoned among the Grey Swords and fought across the empires. She dodged and parried their sloppy strikes, and like a blur she moved around the fighters, her body gracefully tempting their strikes to her defense, to be parried and deflected, and openings exploited. Soon all were dead and her blade was plunged deep into the giant farmer's chest.

The stiffest of fighters came from the south, where the Red Bastards awaited them. Trask shouted orders from the rear line, overseeing the battle from a raised rock. However, as the bodies of peasant rebels littered the hill, a new kind of foe came on. These were not mere farmers, but well armoured knights. They fought bitterly and well, and managed to split the Bastard's line, driving a wedge between the company and overrunning their position. Trask was compelled from his perch and joined the fight.

Trask fought valiantly, his swordarm ringing as he parried blow after blow, and struck out at the biting steel of the enemy. Council troops bearing the crest of the Vitupars family came to reinforce, having just drove rebels from the eastern ridge. From the north, Inim-shara and his followers came to meet the southern assault. Their arrival was just in time to relieve Trask as he found himself fatigued and outnumbered by several of the skilled soldiers. Their offensive turned by the captain-general, and fresh troops now rushing to meet them, the rebels sounded the retreat and slunk from the hill.

Taking stock of the aftermath, Trask surmised that some five swornswords of House Vitupars were taken prisoner, and another five from other noble houses. Two thousand dead rebels were counted upon the hill, and 20 soldiers of Wuldbreach cut down with another hundred succumbing to their wounds shortly after. With the rebel army routed, the path to Wuldbreach was clear, and Trask now had a clear idea of what he was dealing with. Mankar still had an army of 6000 and a fleet of five ships at least. Professional soldiers aided his cause, yet it was not determined who they were, though they appeared to be Goths. Trask's chief prize, however, one that caused the city to cheer his name as he marched into the city at the end of Fire Season with a single prisoner chained and marching before him, was Ser Wollad, Mankar's second in command, taken by a daring sortie from Vorla in the thick of battle.

Spoiler

Army of Wuldbreach
50 - Prince Vitupars (5 taken hostage)
100 - Inim-shara (-15 killed)
195 - Trask (-25 killed)
150 - Tattered Banners (Isembard) (-25 killed)
100 - Nobles (-55 killed, 5 taken hostage)
--------
595

As Trask's scouts set eyes on Mankar's force on the western coast of Breach, Azizi Zelsavar was just off the coast of Bloodshed, and the Canton-Wuldbreach joint fleet was preparing for battle. As warned, Bloodshed had perceived the fleet off their coast as an act of war, and horns sounded in the city. On Al Su'ad's flagship, the Lord-Archon could not be calmed, and vowed to sink any ship that came between him and his son's rescue. The Bloodshed fleet, fifteen ships in all, launched ballistae afire at the Canton fleet. Sails were set ablaze, and men scrambled to quell the fires as the two fleets approached for close battle. Men cried out in alarm with the horrifying discovery, that the waters around them were filled with bloated undead, drifting atop the water's surface and groaning for flesh.

Azizi sailed his ship in a wide formation, leaving the rest of the Wuldbreach ships with the Canton force. Flanking around the Bloodshed ships, the seasoned sailor caught a favoured wind, and sped to the port side of an enemy vessel. His bow cracked the ship asunder, splitting it in two, offering a feast to the undead of the sea. Azizi came upon a second ship, looking to close the distance quick, keen to board and steal the vessel for his own. However, his fleet was outnumbered, and already the Canton ships had broken their formation and were in disarray, several sunk.

Gofsried Eliesburg caught site of Azizi's peril, being closed in by enemy ships, and ordered a daring charge. The escort of Eliesburg was struck by a devastating blow from the enemy's bastilla and was taking in water, the undead scratching at the hull in anticipation of the meal to come. Eliesburg now had to choose between Azizi and his escort. His decision was made easier by the arrival of Al Su'ad's ship. Resigned to his defeat, and painfully aware he would not save his son this day, Al Su'ad was determined to salvage one small victory from this battle and break the enemy formation that now surrounded Azizi.

It was a bold measure by Gofsried and Su'ad, but it did pay off. Their incursion broke a hole in the enemy's line, and the Gold Wuld, flag ship of Azizi Zelsavar managed to slip through. Su'ad was in a fit of rage as the fleet, considerably smaller then what it was, sailed from the cursed Bloodshed Island. He made no secret placing the blame on Wuldbreach, loudly proclaiming before Azizi and Gofsried that if the Council had pledged more ships, his tactics would not have been so desperate. Now, the prince of Great Canton was still in the hands of Razur, and the location of the pirate unknown. Furthermore a state of war now existed between Bloodshed and Great Canton, and many feared that Wuldbreach too would be brought into the fray.

Spoiler

Fleet of Wuldbreach
1 - Azizi Zelsavar
1 - Prince Kafka (Gofsried)
2 - Nobles (-1)

​

 

[BlackBishop]

Dire Harvest
~Earth Season, 894 AoE

Council Hall of Wuldbreach

Summer in Tha'Wuld came to an end, and in Wuldbreach what would have been a time of harvest is a time of war. Farmers that normally occupy the fields surrounding the city have been enlisted in the army of the rebel Mankar or fled from starvation. The stores of food brought in from Great Canton have dwindled to nothing, the last reserves horded by the nobility. Princess Se'da regrettably informed the Council that war now occupies her home, and the trade pact has dissolved. Prince Nyvmrail has secured a promising harvest blessed by the Wuld Mother, though that will not be nearly enough to feed the city. An expanded fishing fleet now operating in the surrounding waters too will fall short of sating the hungry. Many complained, especially among the cotters and carls of the city, that the Council has largely been preoccupied with their own agendas then feeding the city, and as a result mass starvation has occurred.

Some take advantage of the starvation, in particular the Harbour Schwipps, who have amassed a small fortune robbing merchants intent on hording Canton food. One merchant run afoul of the Schwipps, however, was a brother to a respected noble, who set his swornswords upon the brawlers. The swornswords underestimated the strength and numbers of the gang, and were soon overwhelmed. Krabb, going toe to toe, with an arrogant swornsword captain, traded blows with the knight. However, the soldier was better suited for battle then a brawl, and his heavy armour soon exhausted him and he was taken captive, and traded for ransom.

((Krabb earns 25gp ))

A valid argument holds that the ails of the city's commoners, the reason they go hungry, is because of one; Mankar Stilvist. The former prince has made it his prerogative to starve the city, and it can be safely assumed that the force called to his banner is meant for one purpose, the siege of the city. Any hopes the rebel had for a summer siege, however, were dashed by Captain-General Gregor Trask of the Bloodcloaks. Trask was able to defeat Mankar in battle and capture his second-in-command, Ser Wollad, though a sizeable force is still commanded by the rebel prince. Alarming still is the fleet that Mankar managed to bring under his banner, and questions abound how he, who was all but defeated this time last year, has managed to acquire such a force.

Another issue of contention was the tolerated presence of Beastfolk infesting the harbour since last spring. Though closely watched, the fiends managed to escape observation during the shipwright riot of the summer. There whereabouts unknown, it was thought they may have escaped the city, though evidence is coming forward that would suggest otherwise. A patrol of council troops, sworn to House Eliesburg was attacked, the lone survivor telling a grisly tale of Beastfolk emerging from the sewers before succumbing to his wounds. Merchants too were targeted as were beggars and cotters that had no importance, the beasts seeming to kill indiscriminately.

((Ulgrogg earns 15 gp, Eleisburg Loses 10 Swornswords))

Beset by enemies both within and without, prior to the council meeting at the start of Fire Season it was also learn that their treasury had been raided, and the balance of last season of 75 gold crowns was taken. Though Eli Fara was able to apprehend the response thief, those who hired him were not known, and the brigand died during interrogation.

Luckily, some new funds were acquired over the later Fire Season that added few funds to the treasury. The sea was beginning to be a danger, as is common later in the year, so the main income of port fees were growing more unreliable, coupled with the fact that few dared visit the city in such a state, offered little relief for the coin counters.

Spoiler

Wuldbreach Stats
50 gp in treasury

Spoiler

20 k flee Wuldbreach
200 prisoners
Ser Wollad captive

In a somber mood, the nobles of Wuldbreach convened within the Council Hall. Mankar still resisted them, Geilli the Kind was imprisoned by One Eyed cultists and no one had heard from Princess Loiranta all summer. Yet, there was excitement in the air as foreign dignitaries awaited outside the room. Emissaries from the Goth Empire, High Kingdom of Thurod, and the Issira Empire awaited outside the hall for an audience. Off the coast of Breach Isle, a fleet emerged from the Wuld Alliance, fleeing a failing war, and two Elven Kings wishing to speak to the Council. No doubt the flock of ambassadors was due to the approaching Godsmoot, and all wished to exert their influence on which God would be honoured at the ritual.
There was indeed much for the Council to discuss.​

 

[BlackBishop]

Eli Fara
Grand Seneschal​

"Princes of Wuldbreach, wise nobles. This session of the Council of Princes is called to order. I have in my hands, a damning letter written from the quill of Mankar Stilvist. It came into my possession just recently by an unknown agent. The seal and handwriting, I can attest, are indeed genuine. This is from the rebel Mankar! This letter indicates Princess Hera Loiranta an ally of the rebel, an alliance sealed by a marriage pact, and placing her as the agent of thievery that saw our treasury emptied last season! Read it, my lords and judge for yourselves."

Mankar Stilvist
Prince of Wuldbreach
​

Dear Hera,

Ever you have proved yourself a stalwart ally, and indeed my last remaining friend within those damnable walls, it would seem. Everything I work for, everything I hope to achieve is for the betterment of Wuldbreach and the Gods, this you must believe.

I accept your terms, and agree that our alliance is one that should be sealed by marriage. When peace is finally ours, and the decadent princes are cast down from their tenuous perch, together we will rule with benevolence and with the grace of the Gods.

Already your latest shipment is in my hands, and no better timing too, as these mercenaries, the lowly scum, were beginning to grumble at the lack of pay. Now their allegiance is secured and the city will soon be ours. Our siege is soon at hand, my bride-to-be. Stay safe.

~Mankar

​

 

[aedan777]

Most of us knew that Hera was unreliable and had undermined our city, but to go so far as to side with the traitor and try to marry him is beyond the Pale. We must see her removed from the council and arrested at once, so that she would answer for her crimes and weaken Mankar further. Our enemies are legion, both within and without; only through stern measures can we return order to this city beset by chaos. For that reason I say the punishment for her, when she is caught, should be death.

 

[jeeshadow]

Most of us knew that Hera was unreliable and had undermined our city, but to go so far as to side with the traitor and try to marry him is beyond the Pale. We must see her removed from the council and arrested at once, so that she would answer for her crimes and weaken Mankar further. Our enemies are legion, both within and without; only through stern measures can we return order to this city beset by chaos. For that reason I say the punishment for her, when she is caught, should be death.

Eliesburg nods, "Agreed. We must vote her off this Council and issue a warrant for her arrest immediately. I put forward both motions. We must act!"

 

[BlackBishop]

Fara nodded grimly.

"The Council recognizes the motions put forward by Prince Vitupars and Eliesburg. calling for Hera Loiranta stripped of her Princely status and to be arrested for conspiring with the enemy, judgement of which shall be determined upon capture."

 

[jeeshadow]

"Also, one of our own is held prisoner. We should figure out how to free him"

 

[BlackBishop]

Baro Hophs
Archmage of Hydra

"I concur with Prince Eliesburg. Prince Geilli the Kind, in his stalwart effort to root out the cultists that infest this city has been taken captive. I shudder to think the power that will embolden his captors should they spill the blood of a prince upon the alter of Chaos. Princes of the Council, this must be our top priority! Prince Geilli must be found."​

 

[oxfordroyale]

Ghosts of the Battlefield​

If there was one thing Mira hated the most about war, it was the stench of it. She’d fought in a dozen wars and thrice as many battles, and yet she had never been able to get used to the smell. It was always the same, too – all battlefields, no matter their location, stank of the same blood, the same death, and the same shit. And so, as she made her way back up the hill where they’d first withstood the rebels’ charge, she found herself having to breathe only through her mouth. To do otherwise was to invite another bout of nausea, and she wasn’t keen on her men thinking her to be a queasy little girl who vomits at the sight of blood. She had enough problems besides that.

The grass of the hill had been churned to mud under the feet of thousands of men – mud stained a deep and bloody red. As she walked, it squelched sickeningly under her boots and caused her to sink several inches. By the time she reached the flat top of the hill, it had caked her legs up to her knees and she was panting from the exertion. Every joint in her body ached, and the bandages wrapped tight around her waist felt wet and moist with blood.

Gods damn it, Mira thought angrily. If I broke the scab, Herel is going to kill me. The Tattered Banners’ company physician was notoriously strict with his patients, regardless of their rank.

The top of the hill was the only part of it that was still relatively recognizable, and yet even here the carpet of the dead was thick. Men of many ages and ethnicities, grizzled veterans all, lay bloodied, cold, and silent. She knew all of them by name, and had served with them for many years in the Grey Swords before they followed her to the Tattered Banners. She knew, deep down, that they had died for her. Not for the money, but for the love and respect they had for her. The very thought caused a tightness in her throat and an uncomfortable twisting in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her teeth and balled her hands into fists.

“Get a fucking grip.” She hissed to herself, little above a whisper. The wind picked up, snatching her hair from her shoulders and flicking it across her face. “This isn’t exactly new, is it?” The world did not deign to respond. She sighed, and gradually, the tension within her subsided. It was time to do what she came up here to do. Although Mira did not believe in any gods in particular, she did not know for certain that did not exist, and so she offered up a silent prayer for their souls to whoever might be listening.

Gods, hear me. These were good men, and true. They gave their lives freely and courageously in the pursuit of glory and the destruction of the enemy. Fighting was their greatest skill and joy in this awful world of your making. If there is another life after this, I hope that you will allow them to experience that joy once more. You owe them that much.

The sound of heavy footfalls behind her startled Mira from her reverie. Without looking, she knew who it was. Only one man would follow her up here, to join her in mourning.

“It was a near thing.”

“Aye. Too near, if you ask me.” Mira spat into the grass at her feet. She didn’t turn to address him. She didn’t want him to see her face in case the emotions she felt building within her decided to show themselves. She wouldn’t let him see that.

Mira felt, rather than heard, Jas moving to stand behind her right shoulder. The knowledge that he was beside her gave her a sense of immediate security that she didn’t understand, nor really wanted to think about. She was just grateful for its presence.

“You alright?” He placed one of his hands on her shoulder. Even through the fabric of her cloak, she could feel its warmth.

“Fuck you. ‘Course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?” Mira shook him off. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare. I’m still not used to it. With the Grey Swords, it was always men dying beside me, never under my command. But why does it bother me so much? What am I to balk at that responsibility? What sort of soldier – no, what sort of leader am I, to balk at that? No, she could never share such pathetic self-doubts. Not even to Jas …

“Right. Forgive me, captain – I did not mean offense.”

Mira gave a short, harsh bark of laughter before turning and beginning to trudge back down the hill. “You’re forgiven, Jas. I just came up her to count the dead, that’s all. And besides, you’re not my guardian. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course, you’re right.”

“We’ll be needing to do some more recruiting when we return to Wuldbreach – tell Erlen I need him to find me thirty good, strong men. The more military experience, the better. And tell him that if they are like the ones he found last time, he better run for the hills because I’ll shove a spear so far up his ass it’ll come out the top of his head. Understand?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Those exact words to him, Jas. I’m serious.”

As they reached the base of the hill and Mira stalked off in the direction of her tent, Jas stopped and smiled. She never lets anything show, does she? He thought to himself. That woman is like iron … but only on the outside.

“Yes, captain.”

 

[Dadarian]

Krabb threw another apple core at the prisoner, who was unhappy, dirty, hungry, and unhappy, in that order. Chewing rather loudly with his gob on yet another apple, Krabb laughed at the wince his prisoner gave at his "manners". To top it off, Krabb spit in his face, apple bits raining rather sadly onto the prisoner's face.

Squinting through the pieces of half-eaten apple, the prisoner grunted (well, thought he grunted, it came off more of a dull whine). "My brother will soon have me out! You'll rue the day you ever messed with me!"

Krabb raised an eyebrow and nodded sarcastically. "Yeah huh. I don'ts even knows yer name bruv."

The prisoner sputtered, how could this cretin not know who he is? He was rich! He was powerful! He had friends! "Blackguard! My name is!"

To which he was slapped with a rotten trout stolen a week and a half ago by Krabb from some fat Goth. "Shut yer trap!"

Krabb turned back to his apple. The ransom will go through soon, but the Schwipps needed a better source of cash. One that can be beaten out of the people on a regular basis. Maybe he should just intimidate them so he didn't have to beat them! That's a thought, saved his ever-bruised knuckles from being further injured, especially his left hand.

Rubbing said hand, Krabb smiled. There was work to be done.

-------

Krabb ransoms his prisoner to his brother. While he is doing that, the Harbour Schwipps will extract a toll on all houses in the districts they control. Pay it and don't have their food robbed, don't pay and starve.

 

[Plutonium95]

Aftermath​

Gregor moved around Ammar Kha’ri in a slow circle, bastard sword gripped in his hands, forcing him to turn. Without preamble he stepped forward, slashing in a series of quick attacks. Ammar jerked his shield up in time to catch the sword on its rim, and thrust his own sword at Gregor’s thigh. With a grunt, Gregor parried the blow and twisted his sword in just such a way to wrest Ammar’s from his grip, leaving him with only a shield. He feinted to the right before slashing left, stopping his sword scarcely an inch from his opponents neck.

“Again.” Gregor pointed to the master-at-arms’ sword with his own and settled back into a practiced fighting stance.

Ammar sighed and went to retrieve his sword. He looked passed Gregor and removed his helmet. “Lady Vlora.”

When Gregor turned he saw her standing behind him, a few feet outside the sparring area. She looked as regal as ever despite only just having been involved in pitch battle two days before. “Captain, if you have a moment?”

He nodded and motioned for Ammar to leave without turning to look at him. “Give me a moment to change and meet me at my tent.”

He made his way back up the hill to his command tent and hung his mail and plate before discarding his sweat stained clothes and donning fresh black breeches, tunic, and boots. The only thing that may have set him apart from a common peasant was the heavy red clock that he wore, pinned with a golden brooch in the shape of a pair of antlers in honor of the Wuld Mother.

When Vlora arrived outside of Gregor’s command tent she found him brooding over the field where he had won his battle, staring at the forests beyond. He turned when he heard her approach. “We did well, don’t you think Vlora? The center held even against true warriors, you captured Wollad. A good thing we had the Tattered Banners on our flanks I suppose.” He chuckled dryly. “I never thought I’d be happy to have another company on my battlefield.”

“We did captain, better than most would have hoped I think after seeing the size of Mankar’s army. We’ll have to tell the princes about that, and his ships.” She paused for a moment before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why were you sparring with Kha’ri? You should be resting.”

“I’m fine Vlora, my wounds are all but healed by now.” He’d only taken a few small wounds during the battle, but Vlora always seemed to take it upon herself to make sure he followed the surgeon’s orders.

“Even so, can you really say that you didn’t get enough fighting during the battle that you seek more so soon?” The elf walked to his side and looked down over the battlefield as well.

“One can never have too much practice.” Gregor shrugged. He was always restless for some time after a battle, hoping from one thing to the next whether it be sparring, leading a scouting party, or planning the company’s next move. Vlora had said in the past that it was because he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but he knew that there was simply a great many things that need done. “But it is of no concern. Tell me, what did you want to discuss?”

“The doe captain, what else?” She held her hands to the side. “It must have been a message from the Wuld Mother, no animal would be able to enter the camp all the way to your tent otherwise. But for the life of me I can’t imagine what it would mean. Have you given it any thought?”

Gregor ground his teeth. He had, but had arrived at much the same conclusion as Vlora. “What could I make of it? A warning perhaps? A call for help? Who can say except for maybe a priest of the Wuld Mother and we have none of those here with us. I hope to speak to Mazella when we return to the city, until then we will have to be content to wonder.”

Vlora frowned. “You’ve received no other signs, plants growing where they shouldn’t, or more quickly than they otherwise might? Nothing?”

He shrugged. “Nothing but dreams, the Wuld Mother and smoke and tendrils, I can hardly remember when I wake up. I suppose I will mention them to Mazella as well when I speak with her.” He gazed off to the battlefield again, his red cloak streaming off his shoulders. His thoughts turned to the death that had occurred only days before. “We've given them two days, prepare wagons to transport the wounded. Tell Ammar to finish burying the dead that served the Wuld Mother, burn the rest. I want to be away from this damned place and back towards the city by first light tomorrow.” Without waiting for a reply Gregor entered his tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him.