NationStates Jolt Archive

Dayne hung his head, unable to come to bear with the things he had done.

Nine weeks. Nine, since he and his Hound had fled Sunspear, the Southern Panteran capitol, with the girl, Dayne recently beaten and quite severely concussed, the girl strikingly beautiful, and commonly known across the Free Lands as the last living heir of the ancient House Starshade, that had held the South for eight hundred years. Dayne's condition forced them to go into hiding until he regained conciousness.

Eight weeks. Eight, since the horrible dreams that had been so much more than mere dreams. Horrible prophetic visions of decay, suffering and flame had wracked his dreams. When he awoke, the nightmarish feelings continued, further fueling the thought that horror was on the horizon.

Seven weeks. Seven, since they had witnessed the desolation in the Vale, caused by the former Lord of the South, Jace Godsgrace's, missile attack and the ground invasion that had come after. The rest of Pantera had seen what Godsgrace's news reports had told them, that two Reaver Lords had gone to war with one another in an old Feud.. It was nothing that had not happened in Pantera for a thousand years and more, since the Iron Lion had united the tribes. Pantera was a mighty foe to any foreign power who would seek action, but it was not uncommon for the warlike Panteran lords to wage brief campaigns against one another, with the Lord Reaver's permission and blessing. But, this had been different.

Six weeks since Dayne had called the remnants of the South's loyal banners and had assaulted the southern, Shining Gate of the Vale. A savage victory it was. The Evenstar succeeded in taking the fortifications that had seen a thousand armies dash themselves to bloody pieces against it. The tale of his victory, and the annihilation of any hope of Godsgrace's to usurp Bastien's power swept through southron Pantera, into Resin and the large port cities of the Blood Bay.

And for six weeks, the South was a warzone. With no Lord to keep the peace, the people of Sunspear had erupted. Fighting had broken out between the Lord of Resin and his covetous retainers, the cities of the Vale were pillaged and retaken by Dayne and the remaining forces of Godsgrace, still running amok through a thousand miles of mountain and valley. News reports were slim, but word was that Godsgrace was still alive, and Dayne was hunting him, though other word was that the Evenstar had been slain and his corpse hung from the northern, Burning Gate, of the Vale, as a warning to his brother, the Lord Reaver. Still, due to the Seastone Council, Bastien the Bronze could not interfere in the disputes of the Reaver Lords.

.................................................................................................... ......

Nine weeks of horror, and now this...

Dayne, called the Evenstar, the Sword and Shade of the Evening, and a thousand other foolish things, stared at the gore on his hands. Caval, Warhound, stared at Dayne, his face an ashen mask. He, a warrior who had raped and murdered a thousand times, and who'd seen so much terror in his life, was actually shaking.

The girl, Eshara was her name, lay lifeless in the cluttered, sooty rubble of the street. Her cheekbone had collapsed under his mailed fist, and had sprayed the room with blood and matter. Dayne's own face was covered with it as he sat, staring stupidly. The knife in her hand seemed so small and inconsequential, but when he had seen her draw it and lunge for him, the fury had erupted in his soul and he had acted without thought. Even still, she had managed to scratch his ribs before he extinguished the flame of her life with his blow.

Nine weeks of horror, and now this...

Dayne sobbed for a moment, his hands buried in the girls hair. inally, though, he rises and looks to Caval saying,"Come Hound, let us seek wisdom with the Gods. Perhaps they will allow her soul rest."

It was an old ritual, one long performed to repsected enemies, or loved betrayers, as in this case. The soul was cleased by forgiveness, most believed, and those warriors who would forgive and praise their enemies were the wisest of all.

The Hound knelt alongside him, and together, they sang their song:

Humble and helpless,
Learning to pray,
Praying for visions,
to Show me the way.....
Show me the way to forgive you...
Allow me to let it go.
Allow me to be forgiven,
Show me the way to let go.
Show me the way to forgive you...
Allow me to let it go.
Allow me to be forgiven,
Show me the way to let go.

Illuminate me,
Illuminate me,
Illuminate me,
I'm just praying for you to show me
Where I'm to begin....

Show me the way to forgive you...

As the echo of their voices dies out, Dayne sighs and turns away from the ruin he'd made of the girl's face. Instead of forgiveness, the song had aroused a feeling of searing hatred inside him. Staring up at the leaden sky, the Evenstar calls to his old friend, his voice hoarse with emotion,"Come, WarHound. I forgive her, but the ones who would do this to us... I would bathe in their blood."

The old Hound simply nods, taking up his rifle from alongside him and moving to follow Dayne back to their bunker.

{OOC: Okay, a sum of of *that* RP I started awhile back but couldn't finish. I added some bits and kicked the pace up a bit. I tire of anything I do anymore, including NS. This will be either my greatest RP, or my final, farewell RP, depending how it turns out. For now, if you want in please Telegram me before posting. I intend to get gory and graphic, so keep out if you don't like it. Rock and roll, I'll be back with more soon.}

((OOC: The best writing I've seen in a long time... a definate tag, and two thumbs up))

Dayne had marched the length of the Vale three times since raising the South's banners and going to war against Godsgrace. Each time he had won victory after bloody victory, defeating and dispersing the rebel Lord's forces, only to have them reform in greater numbers.

As a matter of course, Reaver squabbles were usually conducted without the use of air support of heavy armor, most lords being content to use their might at sea and their foot soldiers to settle matters of Honor between themselves. However, Godsgrace had pulled out all of the stops and began to roll in scores of units of heavy armor, all freshly arriving from the south, whereas Dayn'es own, loyal Reavers were a tattered, tired bunch, weary from nonstop marching and fighting.

Reports indicated that Bastien stirred in the north, but to what effect was not known, as many television broadcasts in Toke claimed Dayne himself the rebel, and Godsgrace the Lord Reaver's champion. Foolishness, most claimed, but the lack of communications in the south made it hard to judge, and those reports still emerging from the southern sources being heavily pro-Godsgrace tainted public view even further.

With nearly six thousand loyal Reavers scattered the length of the Vale and in the surrounding mountains, Dayne's forces numbered no more than a quarter of Godsgrace's, but the Southern Lord had the advantage of Southron troops at his back, his own force holding the Burning Gate of the Vale to Dayne's north, and Dayne, alone in the Vale, with no hope of reenforcement from Bastien, due to the Seastone Council's constraints.

A grim situation, and one the Evenstar liked not one bit. To make matters worse, the horrid dreams continue to haunt him. Rather than succumb to the depression they threatened to bring on, Dayne continued to wage lightning campaigns into the south, and north, against Godsgrace's forces. Numerous times he threatened the stout Burning Gate itself, but was forced to withdraw each time after inflicting heavy damage. Fighting a guerilla war was a nasty business, especially against foes such as their fellow Reavers, but as the victories conetinued to build, Dayne's legend continued to grow...

Legends are a tricky thing, he knew. Many saw him as a warior prince, a shining symbol of Reaver might. He knew how alse that was. Many others, however, saw him as something altogether different. Many people thought him accursed, though most had no idea why, only that others said it was so. His life had been shrouded with strangeness. His father, the late Lord Reaver Valanus Vayne, had always favored Bastien most, grooming him for the mantle of Lord Reaver. Dayne himself was left to make his own life, winning fame in tourneys and waging many a war for his father and brother. Throughout this, many seers sang songs and cast bones, claiming him destined for greatness like no man before him. Most of these songs smacked of the same prophecies that had haunted him his entire life. Only twenty two, he had already seen more and done more than most men dreamt of, but at a price. Reavers were known for their brutality to enemies, but the Evenstar was remarkable in this. Many whispered that he drank the blood of slain foes, others claimed he paid homage to the Night Spirits.

However, the reality was not much brighter. He had ordered men killed, towns burned and women raped. He had seen children murdered, schools bombed, and populations exterminated. Many claimed his tactics far too brutal, saying he took plasure in the pain of others.

He knew that they all were wrong, however. All he had done, had been for Bastien, and Pantera. He loved his people, he loved the lands that by right belonged to he and his brother. He loved the sight of the waves in the Blood Bay and the sharp, cold air atop his Seadragon Tower. He did not love blood or piteous screaming, he did not love the sight of murdered children or used and discarded women. But, those who threatened the peace and stability of his homeland would find that he would rape, kill, burn and pillage for all eternity to ensure that Pantera remained the homeland he loved.

*Bump*

Back in a few hours with a couple of new posts. To those of you who haev TM'd, asking for permission to join, please be patient. If you have my AIM you can give me a yell there, and we'll get you started, or just bear with me until I answer my tellies...

Dayne's plan was simple. One wing of his men would merch up the center of the causeway, approaching the Burning Gate from the south. This wing would carry with it Dayne's heavy armor and artillery. The other, smaller, wing would be led by Dayne himself, and would skirt the eastern foothills of the Dawn mountains until they reached the Silkstrand River, here they would turn west and move through a range of the cruelest mountains on the face of the earth. This wing would be entirely made up of his Reaver foot infantry, and should be able to move undetected through the harsh terrain, and make the crossing of the all but impassible Dawn Range.

On the morning of the sixth day, Dayne would lead his Reavers down out of the heights and out onto the plain north of the Gate. With luck he would recieve reenforcements from the Seven Cities of Shine, even now settled comfortable on the sprawling northern plain, some eighty miles north of the Burning Gate.

From his position encircling the gate, he would order the two-pronged assault to commence, and the Burning Gate would be attacked from both north and south.

A simple plan, and one his men felt had merit. But, Dayne was concerned with what came after the fall of Godsgrace, and the reconquest of the Vale.

With the Vale in hand, Dayne held the key to the Panteran mainland, and could easily make himself a powerful Lord. However, many of his men pressed him to go even further, and claim the South as his own, in Bastien's name, of course. Dayne hated the idea of being a 'powerful lord' almost as much as he hated the idea of returning the lands he had conquered to any southern Lord. But, that was a problem for later.

For now, Dayne and fifteen hundred Reavers disappeared into the range of the Dawn Mountains, intent on assaulting a position that had held stout through a thousand years of warfare. The Burning Gate had never fallen. In the face of ten thousand enemies it had held strong, destroying the hopes of many great hosts.

This, the Northern, Burning Gate had never fallen, but before Dayne had come along with his rabble of a host, neither had its Southron counterpart, the Shining Gate.

{OOC: Grr, bloody rl, I'll be back to finish in a few...}

OOC: Badass Tag....would like to join in.....

[tag: nice work]

*wishes he could rp like this*

{OOC: Many thanks, guys. If you like it so far stick around. I plan to get crazy here. If you would like to join in Telegram me and we'll talk about it.}

Nothing to see here folks. Just a tag.

The old crone stared at him, her eyes twin pools of shadow beneath the cowl of the hood she wore. Beneath the hood, Dayne could see the cracked, dry skin he knew so well, startlingly pale in contrast to the darkness of her eyes.

With a shrill laugh, the crone raises a finger to point at him. ;Her laughter shakes her body and causes the hood to slip back, revealing a head of whispy white hair,"I see you there, Evenstar. How fares thee, Prince? Are you prepared for the Long Night ahead? I truly hope so, for the Dawn comes, and it heralds the Darkness as the Dusk never could..."

Her laughter rings shrill once more, and from the foggy shadows of the forest came a raven. Perching itself upon the crone's shoulder, the bird cocks its head and stares at Dayne curiously before bending and using its beak to pluck a gobbet of flesh from the old woman's jawline...

Dayne convulses, his eyes coming wide as his surroundings, and reality came crashing back into place. Panting raggedly, Dayne looks around the small clearing he had chosen for camp. A number of his men watched him fearfully, a few more with concern painted on their rugged faces. Most, however, still slept. Content to catch what rest they could before the morning's campaign...

Dayne could see that the Crone had spoken true, and that daylight slowly approached, turning the pale shadows of the Dawn Mountains into the purple color of an old bruise. The Dreams had been coming more frequently of late, and since he had begun planning this assault he had barely slept at all. A strange dream, he thought, even as strange as his dreams usually were. The Crone and crow were old companions by now, the Crone as she had really lived in the Seastone Palace for decades, the Crow because he had torn Dayne's soul apart a thousand-thousand times in his dreams.

No matter, he would soon be leading his men in battle, to live or die by his own mettle. Soon, he knew, it would be finished. The dreams, the Feud, and the life of a Usurper Lord. One way or another, Dayne meant to be rid of the shadow that hovered above his life.

Grunting, the Evenstar rose and began to rouse his men. Offering a jest or a blessing as he went. Soon the force was awake and preparing to march the last few miles under the cover of darkness and forest before making their attack on the Burning Gate at Dawn.

Dayne only hoped his Hound's march up the Vale Causeway had gone so well as his own, hidden march...

{[Wow...you mustn't leave us, you are one of the best RPers/Story Tellers I've seen in NS...]}

Beowulf was a large Eurydian, larger than most, and the physical presence he had overpowered overyone. On a bridge Beowulf looked, and was the pillar of strength; all eyes looked to him during important decisions. His blue, bombardier eyes always flashed with intensity, but beneath it people would feel a calming presence. The eyes were strength, not anger, and when his gaze would fall on a comrade, they would feel safe, not frightened. His eyes felt contempt for the enemy and for failure. He loved the men he served with, and he would never use his will against them.

For these reasons Beowulf became the Supreme Admiral of the Royal Navy. For 20 years he has served as the leader of the Republics largest and most comprehensive attack fleets. He accepted the position from Icarus Traiden, and after his unfotunate death, Beowulf continued to serve under Emperor Alexander Traiden. He had always been a deep and passionate ally of the Traiden family. Because of this, Kiyane Traiden, cousin to the Emperor himself, called upon Beowulf for help. Kiyane had been wed to Gaise Starshone --half-brother to Bastien himself—some years ago in a very open and joyous ceremony. Unfortunately, the days of joy had vanished from Pantera, and a war became the norm once more. Because of this Kiyane called on Beowulf.


My Dearest Friend Beowulf,

I’m afraid things in Pantera are getting worse. Dayne is off fighting in the south while Bastien is unable to help. Reports are very sketchy when they do come in, and some even label Dayne as the cause for all this mess. I need you here old friend, to help me. I’m sorry to say that another Eurydian military campaign wouldn’t be in store for you. You would only come as a friend, and be able only to bring a few trusted guards. Bastien could explain your meager presence to the Seastone Council, but bringing an army would only upset things further.

I ask you to come, come help Bastien and Dayne in this war. Come help Gaise, my dear husband. Come help me.

From your dearest friend,
Kiyane Starshone


[ooc: just let me know if this is an acceptable way to get in on the action. If not, I can edit]

As the first rays of sunshine finally broke across the towering peaks to the east, the vanguard of the WarHound's host came into range of the Burning Gate. With a violent concussion the first volley of artillery slams into the ancient walls. By this time guns atop the surrounding peaks begin to return fire, concentrating on the lead line of heavy armor. The Hound's push continues steadily, though, and soon a large breach appears in the great curtain wall that had stood for so many centuries.

With a roaring shout, the Hound ordered his Reavers forward to exploit the breach. Amid a hail of fire from the walls and turrets that dotted the mountainside, the tattered host made its charge...

The initial suprise gone, the Gate's defenses came alive, and began to rain death upon the central thrust of the Hound's host, by this time, however, Dayne's men had moved through the mountains, down across the freezing waters of the Silkstrand, and against the vulnerable eastern section of the Burning Gate. Here, the gate met the towering cliffs in which it was set. Dayne, however, had pressed even further north and came to assault the vulnerable northeast section of the wall.

With most of Godsgrace's men manning the southern ramparts and focusing the fire from the mountainside turrets on the Hound's attack, Dayne's smaller force uses a small explosion to create a second breach, and quickly enter the city...

****************************

Two hours, thirty eight minutes later.....

Still the slaughter continued, once the Burning Gate had been opened by Dayne's men, and the Hounds armor had come rolling in, the cowardly forces manning the mountainside turrets had turned their fiery barrage into the city of the Gate itself. Even as the last of the Evenstar's men destroyed the forces of Godsgrace fires roared and the sound of shots could be heard.

Dayne himself was in a fury. Godsgrace was dead, killed during the fighting atop the curtain wall by an unshaven Reaver by the name of Belarr. Though Dayne praised the boy, all could plainly see it was only a facade. The life of Godsgrace should have been extinguished by Bastien himself.

The Hound, and about a thousand of Dayne's men were wounded, some fatally. Caval, however remained in bright spirits. The grizzled old man was laughing as a young woman tended the wound in his side, his face eased finally by the smiles, after so long being set in a scowl.

The Evenstar was eager to speak with Bastien, to give over the burned on waging the war to supress the rebels in the south, eager to sleep for a month in his own Tower, so far away in Toke.

{OOC: Perfect, Bloc. Tellies.}

The ships sliced through the icy waters at a slightly faster than normal pace. The 1st Imperial fleet had been deployed for the first time since the scare in Greece, and the fizzled war against The Trojan Empire. At the very front of the newly completed flagship, the AMFS War Nerve stood the mighty Warchief Zander. After years of being stationed in Greece waiting for a moment's notice to unleah hell against Troy, Zander had finally gotten his chance to taste battle yet again. Zander was content with his new flagship that Lord Damien had bestowed on him, and he grinned as he felt the splash of cold salt water taint his cheeks.

***

<Back at The Great Hall; ULE City; Automagfreek>

Damien sat upon his throne as usual listening to the flood of reports of Feud within Pantera. Damien knew that thse disputes were common in Pantera, but his intelligence indicated otherwise. Dreadfire knew something was different about this skirmish by it's very nature. The late Godsgrace had broken the code of honor and used weapons such as heavy armor against his own kin, something the Reavers normally didn't do because these Feud's were more or less a pissing contest than an actual war.

It seems like Bastien is forced to sit on the sidelines on this one. A shame....I would be most pleased to see Bastien trample yet another heathen, even if the heathen is a Reaver. Dreadfire scoffed as Defense Minister Jackson continued to assess the situation.

M'Lord, the 1st Armada is closing in on Pantera should things get out of control. The Lord Reaver knows of our coming, for we know he would do the same if there was a squabble over here.

Damien nodded and gestured his hand casually. Yes Jackson, I know. Zander is there only if things get out of hand and need to be resolved quickly and with force. Bastien won't think anything of it I'm sure.

Jackson tightened his lip and nodded gently as he returned to his business.


***

<75 miles off the shores of Pantera>

The fleets had come to rest in the calm ocean outside the mighty land of Pantera, and Zander stood impatiently in the control room of the War Nerve.

The Warchief's first mate lifted his head from his monitor, and without taking his eyes off the screen spoke with little concern. Sir, it's basically an organized mess down there. It seems that Dayne has things under control for the time being, so I have no clue what's going to happen.

Zander sighed heavily with a slight aura of disappointment about him, for he longed to draw swords alongside Dayne since the invasion of Troy was no longer deemed necessary. He stepped out into the crisp air and leaned against the railing. He looked over at the quiet 16 inch guns resting in their default position. He moved his right hand down to the scabbard hanging at his side and began thumbing his sword. His thirst for battle needed to be quenched.

***

<Message to Dayne the Evanstar>

Greetings brother, I've come with my fleet and we rest miles outside the shores of Pantera's mainland. Should this squabble get out of hand, the Sentinels stand ready to fight and die. I myself have lusted for blood for many years.....years filled with peace...the ultimate boredom.

Lord Dreafire sends me because you and I are more alike, just as Bastien and Damien are blood brothers. By the Winds, should you need assistance in teaching these tribes a lesson in Reaver respect, you know who to call.

http://www.angelfire.com/super2/freekisland/warchief.jpg
-=Zander=-
-Warchief of AMF Forces-

With fighting still raging the length of the Vale and throughout most of Southern Pantera, and the North as silent as a tomb as well, communications were slight. As it was, Dayne recorded a message on the march and quickly dispatched a messenger to hurry the recording back to the Burning Gate, where radio and cable communications still ran.

{Xander,
Just mopping up the last few dissidents. Help is appreciated, but declined as your fleet approaching Pantera has done naught but give these Southern dogs more reason to fight. By word of the Lord Reaver you are to withdraw your fleet to international waters. Further communications possible upon my return to the Southern, Shining, Gate of the Vale.
- Evenstar}

Though Bastien had never given such an order, Dayne thought it best to keep these Sentinels off of Panteran soil. Foreigners would not be welcome, especially a fleet of them. The southern fleets remained all but untouched in the fighting, for the Vale Campaign had been fought mainly by infantry and armor. However, Dayne knew that should the AMF fleet continue to approach Pantera, the Southern Lords would put aside their differences long enough to launch a counter attack.

That would be a bloody f*king mess, and with Bastien remaining hidden like a bloody coward, Dayne knew that the fighting between Reavers would continue regardless of what these Sentinels did.

The Evenstar held his head in his hands, the bouncing of the truck was making him ill, but there was no time to rest. Some thirty thousand Reavers dead already, and though the fighting seemed to be diminishing, Dayne had a sickening feeling that it had only begun...

{OOC: My next post will explain Bastien's absence.}

Beowulf stepped off the transport, his feet landing on the cushiony soil. Around him Reavers went about their business, totally unphased by the Eurydian ship's arrival. While its purple and orange hues usually attracted attention, Beowulf registered nothing. He tapped the dull gold hilt of his longsword --although spotless it had survived 2000 years of peace and war-- and shot cursory glances in different directions, mostly to scope out the surroundings. They had planned on landing near an area of minimal fighting and it seemed they had done just that. The few and highly confidential reports the Panterans had revealed to them indicated Dayne was in the area, but beyond that Beowulf knew nothing.

Four other men descended the steps of the transport. Their green, brown, and black camouflage uniforms and high-powered assault rifles sharply contrasted the more mannered, dark green colors of Beowulf’s Lowgrace outfit. The four men were a Special Operations Corps (SOCOR) assault team hand picked by Boewulf for their experience in combat. They had lead stealth assault mission against insurgents who had captured Rigard Palace, and while Emperor Icarus Traiden died, the team had managed to rescue all other captives. The men were hardened soldiers.

Team commander ICE Assassin reached the bottom of the walkway first, and approached the Supreme Admiral, who was still eyeing the place over. BIGGS, COBB, and DRAKE lingered in the background. Their eyes didn’t miss a thing, and they noticed no attention paid to them.

BIGGS leaned over to COBB. “You’d think a few Eurydians pop in during a war every day around here. I like the whole non-violent approach and all, but some attention would be nice. It’s almost as though we’re not… welcome here. Don’t know how that could be.” He chuckled while COBB grimaced in annoyance.

ICE looked over his shoulder and shot his subordinates a piercing glance, then turned back to Beowulf. “Sir, do you think Bastien or the others contacted Dayne? Perhaps he doesn’t know were coming.”

Beowulf shrugged his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t matter if he does, or he doesn’t. We’re here to help and that’s what we’ll do.” He smiled and left the transports shadow. He hadn’t a clue where Dayne was, but he preferred traveling to waiting around.

Dayne is acting rather....unusual.. Zander thought to himself as the msessage rolle din. He sighed deeply then gathered himself as he replied briefly.

Brother Dayne, I come here not to cause disruption, but rather I come on orders. Lord Damien would not have sent me if he did not feel the situation warranted it. We come to interfere but rather to deter outsiders from taking advantage of the current infighting. Damien feels it is better to be safe than sorry, as through the Blood Pact we are obligated to look out for our kin.

Who knows what Damien and Bastien are doing behind the scenes. My suspicions were roused the second he deployed me here. But at any rate, 5,000 Sentinels stand ready to do their part if ordered to go in.

And with that the War Nerve fell silent, it's silhouette remaining unseen by the Reavers ashore. Zander stepped out onto the deck of his ship and leaned against the railing. His glance was directed at the shore of Pantera which he could not see. As the sun began setting he sighed to himself and ordered the fleet to take up a defensive position as they waited.

OOC: I'm not sure how you want to do this, might want to TM me some guidlines.

OOC: Ugh, sorry. Been a busy few days. Got a doctors appointment tomorrow to get a picture of my ever-growing baby, so I'll probably be back with another post and a few telegrams tomorrow night. Sorry about the delay, but I shall return. Now for a quick IC post...

IC:

The Evenstar rubbed his stubble coated chin irritably, scanning his reports. Quickly, he dispatched messages to the Eurydian delegation, and a transmission to Xander. They were to gather a dozen men each and report to Dayne at his temporary seat in the Shining Gate. Fighting rages around the landward approaches to the Gate, but reports indicate that the seas remain open. How long this will continue remains a mystery as the fabled volatility of the Panteran nation boils ever hotter...

Boewulf’s communicator vibrated and he grabbed it from his waistband. “What is it?” He said dismissively.

“Ensign Mulroy Sir.” The young officer had transported his party to the surface. His voice sounded young, but confident.

“Well,” Beowulf responded, “…What is it?”

“A transmission from Dayne. He wishes for you to come to the Shining Gate. And he asks you to bring twelve men.”

Beowulf stopped in his tracks and the SOCOR team did the same. He looked back to the transport –no more than 75 feet away—and nodded. “Prepare for our departure Mulroy,” He answered gruffly into the communicator, “And have 8 marines ready for me once we reach the Shining Gate.” He turned to address ICE and his men. “It looks as though Dayne has found us after all. Come, we leave this place.”

The five headed off toward the transport. Once aboard, Beowulf moved up to the cockpit, a small hole with two seats and an innumerable amount of instruments. He took a seat next to Mulroy, his large body sinking into the cushiony material. “How far from the gate?” Beowulf asked.

Mulroy tapped a few buttons and a holographic representation of Pantera appeared. “We’re here now,” He said, and pointed to the southern section. Mulroy pushed a few more buttons and the image magnified itself, bringing Southern Pantera clearer into view. “And this is where we’re supposed to be.” The map revealed the Shining Gate. “It’s really only a few minutes away. We’ll be there shortly sir.”

Beowulf nodded. “Good to hear ensign. We haven’t a moment to lose.”

[ooc: assume in your post we’ve already landed. I hate landing posts]

OOC: I'll let Freek get in one more before I post, but I think you guys are going to like my twists here. Should turn into some good, gory fun. :) Drag the Waters and all that. I'll be back later with my post, assuming AMF hasn't stripped naked and run off into the woods, never to return to his home, his computer, or NS again....

OOC: I'll be back later with my post, assuming AMF hasn't stripped naked and run off into the woods, never to return to his home, his computer, or NS again....

OOC: Damn....you're onto me.... :shock:


IC:

Within mere minutes of Zander reading the message, a small craft instantly departed from the War Nerve. On the small boat sat Zander and 6 Death Dealers along with 6 Sentinel Stalkers. Fully armed and in their combat gear, they trudged towards the shoreline eagerly.

Looks like Dayne has found use for us after all. Zander shouted to his men who sat stone-faced. Due to the great distance between the fleet and the shoreline of Pantera, it would be almost an hour before they would arrive, but that gave Zander plenty of time to think of just what to say as to not piss off the already troubled Evanstar.

OOC: Very short post, I know. Not a whole lot to work with right now. 8)

As Xander and the Eurydian, Beowulf, arrive they are escorted through the sooty rubble of the Gate town, sprawling lazily beneath the looming Shining Gate of the Vale. Heavily armed Reavers prowl the streets, glaring at one another and occasionally fighting or cursing.

All in all the city is in a state of confusion and filth. The stench of humanity is cloying, and when coupled with the foul odor of corpses, blood and smokey rubble, is almost sickening.

High in the Gate, Dayne sits before a large window. Draped in a tattered shadowskin cloak, he idly smokes a large cigar, his eyes glowing a strange indigo color as their purple irises catch the dying light of the sun, only now touching the western peaks.

Dayne's view is stunning. The distant mountains are imposing, even from afar, while the lush, fertile fields and forests of the Vale are arrayed to the north, seemingly made of patchwork from this height and distance. A sight of beauty, to be sure, though one that is marred by the great fires that roared in the recently dug pits north of the Gate, alongside the Vale Highway.

These pits dance with flame and thick, oily black smoke. Working at the pits are a hundred or so Reavers, stripped to the waist due to the intense heat of the flames. The gruesome stench of their task must have assailed their nostrils, for most, if not all have scarves of some sort tied about their mouths. Methodically, the mass of Reavers would move from the fire pits to the great, heaped mounds of corpses nearby. From the pile to the pit, the Reavers moved, heaving corpse after corpse after rotting corpse into the cleansing flames of the cadaver pits.

Dayne's eyes never moved, nor shifted as he speaks, his voice a hoarse rasp,"Eurydians and Freeks, eh? This is what the Gods have graced me with?" The sad little smile that plays across his face softens his expression slightly, though his eyes remain on the grisly scene laid out beneath the window.

"My lands bleed, Freek. And what would you have me do? Lay down my sword, order my Reavers to discard their rifles, ships and tanks? These are not appealing options to me...

"My people bleed, Eurydian. What would you have me do? Bathe in that blood? Use it to wash away the filth that has been smeared across teh noble face of my homeland?

"I fight a raging battle the length of the Vale. I annihilate the usurper, Godsgrace. I bring most of the Southern Lords to heel, and yet, Bastien still refuses to aknowledge my victory, offer praise, or even send his blessing."

A thick tone of bitterness creeps into the Evenstar's voice,"He was favored by the Gods. It is known. My father taught him to rule, taught him to be a fine Lord Reaver.... Well, he rules, and he was a fine Lord Reaver, I'll give him that, but no longer.

"Now, he sits in the Seastone Palace, content to watch our Reavers bleed each other dry. Content to allow his Lords open rebellion... Content to allow me to rot here in the Vale, surrounded by enemies, while he sits at court, jesting with the Council or hunting."

Violently he slams his fist down onto the ornately carved chair in which he sits. The old, polished wood disintegrates beneath his fist, but he seems not to notice, he only drones on,"He is my brother, and the Gods know I love him, and will always, but this cannot be allowed to continue."

Finally, the Evenstar turns away from the window. As his face turns, the sun finally slips beneath the western peaks and bathes the valley floor in shadow, aside from the great corpse fires that raged on, and would rage throughout the night. As the shadows cover his face, the fiery light in his purple eyes fades, leaving only a sharp glint of what could be hatred, or possibly madness.

"But," He grunts, looking first to Xander, and then to Beowulf,"You are here now, eh? And I suppose that makes it alright? I suppose that means that my lands will be put to rights soon, no? You think your presence here will ensure that Pantera quiets and will become docile?" Scornful laughter rings from his throat, hoarsely booming around the room,"Well, if that is what you were thinking, I would turn tail and board your fancy ships with all haste. My Reavers have a taste for blood now, and with what looks to be on the horizon, their thirsts will not be slaked, but only grow... The coming weeks look to be filled with a war that would rattle the bones of Melkor and his horde of evil..."

The Evenstar sighs, looking the two men over thoughtfully before speaking once more,"Aye, this will be a war to shake the world off of its foundations... But... But I must, you see. Bastien no longer has the strength to control the Free Lands. And Free Lands they are. Bleeding, smoking and burning lands, but Free nonetheless. They would destroy Pantera for their own, petty, ambitions and desires, but that cannot happen. I will not let it...

"Bastien may be my brother, but this is my Love..."

Turning to face the window once more, Dayne lapses once more into silence, as if the beautiful, horror tinted view of the darkened valley were explanation enough...

{OOC: Bam, finally. Sorry about the wait, a bottle of Gin got in the way of posting last night....}

Zander stood in silence for a second, then proceeded to spill his inner thoughts, however inappropriate they may have been. His tone was ominous and his eyes shifted ever so slightly.

What do I expect you to do Evenstar? I expect you to do your duty to yourself, your Reavers, and Pantera. I expect you to fight tooth and nail to the bitter end, but we already know you do this....correct? Therefore my expectations have been met.

He shuffled closer to Dayne his volume rising ever so slightly. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned up against a wall.

Your brother, Lord Reaver, is a Blood Brother with my leader. You know the bond they share, and Lord Damien knows of the bond you two share. I know that Pantera could turn any foe with ease, but you know how protective Damien and Bastien are over eachother. They would plunge into the very bowles of Hell in an instant for eachother. Our leaders are busy men, and the Gods know that Damien himself would be here if it were not for his crusades.

Zander exhaled deeply and stepped alongside the Evanstar. He could sense a curious aura about him....was it madness from war? He could not put his finger on it.

You mean to strike down your brother and assume his mantle? That is what you are implying are you not? Zander had a slightly visable scowl across his face. Do as you will Evenstar, Winds know I cannot judge your actions...but I pray you know the consequences of your actions. I fear that should this coup happen that the Blood Pact will be over, and I fear that Blood Feud may ensue. Zander stepped closer, this time a mere foot away from Dayne's face. Sweat dripped off the gruff Warchief's face as he starred Dayne down. Winds know that I would fight and lay my life down for you brother Reaver, but should the Blood Pact end...

Zander looked away, stopping himself in mid thought. I must retire now Evenstar, the event in AMF and Pantera are too much for me to deal with. Brinks is off fighting terrorists, Lord Damien protects the homeland, and I sit here like a fucking bump on a rock doing nothing. I am half tempted to leave these waters and return to my duties.

Zander turned back around to Dayne yet again, his scowl now gone from his expression. Duty, Dayne. In the end that's what a soldier's existance comes down to, no? Do your duty to yourself, your Reavers, and Pantera and the Gods shall smile and you with favor.

I must leave now.

The Evenstar nods slowly, his eyes never leaving the shadowed view of the valley. Running his tongue slowly over his teeth, Dayne nods and speaks once more,"I expected no less. I understand your reluctance, and do not hold your in contempt for your actions. Damien is a man who inspires fear, as is my brother. Believe me, if there were any other choice I would jump at it. But, if left unchecked, Bastien's sudden weakness will destroy Pantera. That is the duty of the Lord Reaver. Before waging wars, before leading our nation in world affairs, and before he lives his own life. When one takes the mantle of Lord Reaver his life is bonded to Pantera. He uses his strength to wield the furious might of the Reavers...""

With a soft, almost choking sigh, Dayne waves a hand,"Go then, but you tell Damien that this Bastien is not the one we know and love. He is not the man we warred and whored with... Something has changed him, and though I know not what, as you said I must do my duty... For Pantera. The Gods know I would rather live a quiet life, far from the heat and hate of War, far from the foul intrigues that plague the Seastone Palace...

"You tell Dreadfire that I hold no ill will towards him, or his Sentinals, but should he attempt to interfere..." The Evenstar quiets momentarily, and finally looks back up at Xander. His eyes blaze with fury for a moment, before he smiles and returns his gaze to the window,"Well, we are both warriors, and threats will not avail us. But, you tell him that he knows well what I am capable of, and that I will not hesitate to scorch the earth, if it means that the Peace returns to my Free Lands..."

And with that, the Evenstar quiets, seemingly almost oblivious to the continued presence of those in the room.

[ooc: Booze never stopped me…]

Beowulf looked reluctantly to Dayne and Zander. He felt a little out place, being the only extra-Sol member among them. But at the same time Beowulf felt he understood Dayne better because of his lack of Sol experience. He would protect Eurydice to the death, and even he would go so far as to consider the Emperor himself an enemy of Eurydice if circumstances claimed it to be so.

He looked over the two men, his large, brown eyes surveying not only those present, but the surrounding palace and setting sun. He sighed. “Evenstar, I understand your willingness to sacrifice. But do you really think usurping Bastien from the throne will accomplish what you want? It’s human nature to wage war, and removing someone from power won’t accomplish peace. We (The Republic) have tried, and failed in every account. Even with our three states united under the name of Eurydice, we still bicker. Nature will never be denied.”

Beowulf shrugged while ICE and his comrades looked on. “But… as you said… there is no easy solution to this matter, and to expect something as such would be foolish. Even though Damien cannot assist you, we Eurydians are willing to help. What would you have us do to return peace (however brief) to Pantera?”

{OOC: Well, I had another bigass post all typed up, but these goddamn forums ate it. I think I broke my hand in a fight this weekend, so it was a tremendous effort to type that long, and an even more tremendous disappointment wwhen the forums ate it. So, fuck it. I'll be back tomorrow to continue...}

OOC: That's why I always copy my posts before hitting Submit.

Dayne laughs for a moment before waving a hand at Beowulf,"I would not be so quick to offer your help, friend. Before you pledge, let me tell you a story.

"Once, long ago, there was a Lord Reaver. An ancestor of mine, and of Bastien's. His name was the name of my House, Vayne. Called 'the Mighty' for indeed, he was. He had ruled for many years, ruled wisely and with honor.

"But, as all things must, he died... His twin sons were not men of Honor, as was he. Both of them wished to usurp the Panteran throne. Calling their Reavers, these two made war upon each other. 'The Endless War' it was called. For thirteen years did these two enemies war upon each other. And for thirteen years the Lands did bleed. Battles were won honorably and atrocities of unspeakable horror were commited by both factions. Men who had once drank and laughed together now raped the other's family and was, in turn, visited with terrible payment...

"Thirteen years, before the two great hosts came together in a the final battle."

With an expansive gesture to the great plain of the valley, nestled in the shadow cloaked confines of the two great mountain ranges that run the length of the Vale, Dayne continues,"There. To the west assembled the force of Jasaray the Vile. A giant of a man he was, many claimed he ate the hearts of his enemies to absorb their spirits. Legend holds that before his father died, the child Jasaray had been imprisoned for some three months for the rape of a small girl. If only they had killed him then, so much would have been spared..."

Dayne steels himself visibly before drawing a long, deep breath and saying,"But the other brother... The other was worse...

"Vayne the Pagan was a fiendishly cruel man. So named for he railed against the Reaver Gods of Wind, Water and War and embraced the coward belief of these 'Papists'... The myths of this man's cruelties are still used to frighten children, and to terrify those who know that this is no mere story...

"The Pagan murdered thousands.... Raped thousands..." With a slight shudder, Dayne drones on,"There were once mass graves, canyons, more like, scattered all over Pantera. None know how many died to this man's 'cleansing' but suffice it to say all of Pantera was in the grip of a madman who was tenfold more terrifying than the beasts of the darkest nightmare...

"These two did wage their war the length of Pantera and back again, murdering, burning, and raping as they went. Long it did seem that the two were in an almost contest of atrocities, bent on outdoing the other's cruelest most macabre deed. Most modern historians put the death toll for the war at around eight million dead, but there is no way to know, as even now we find more graces, more evidence of genocidal behavior from both sides...

"The final encounter of these two brothers has long been known as the Red Rain, and it is one of the most decisive days in Panteran history..."

Rising, Dayne begins his recital of the battle. His hands gesture wildly with the telling, and his voice builds in intensity,"A great screen of thunderheads had assembled during the night, and as the two great hosts assembled the sky opened and began to rain. Torrential flooding ripped through their ranks, but so great was the hatred of the two brothers for one another than neither would withdraw, and soon the order to advance was given...

"As the two tides of men came together, so did the sky resound with a rending crash. The chaos of steel and death was all but drowned out by the crash of thunder and the roar of the flooding rains... This was a strong omen for both sides, for the great storm was a sure sign that the Three Gods were indeed watching with favor..."

Dayne's eyes have taken on a fevered intensity witht he telling, and the battle seems to come alive with the emotion that threatens to choke his voice,"Back and forth the battle did rage. Tactics and Honor were laid aside as again and again the two hosts came together and dashed themselves to pieces. The battle is called the 'Red Rain' for those who stood in this very room to watch the battling hosts did claim that from this height, the flooded sea of the plain did run full with crimson rainwaters, swirled into a frothy maelstrom by the surging hosts.

"Throughout the day did Death continue to walk amongst the battling hosts, until near dusk, when the two brothers did come together...

"The Vile, a giant fiend of a man. The Pagan, a smaller, madder version of his brother. The two men did violence upon one another for long minutes until finally, both of their hosts had ceased their fighting and had gathered, eager to see the one who would emerge victorious.

"Back and forth they fought, their swords clashing as they slipped and struggled in the pouring rains, neither seemed to be winning when a strange and ominous thing did happen....

"The Gods saw fit to hurl a bolt betwixt the two Reavers. The lightning seared them both, blinding the hosts of Reavers and gouging a great rent in the earth. When the light did fade and the hosts of Reavers looked, they saw the smoking, dying brothers.

"Even then, the brothers did scream and rail at one another, burned and ruined they were, their guts exploded inside them and their eyes turned to jelly by the scorching heat of the lightning, and let to run down their faces. And yet, they searched blindly for one another, still intent upon spilling the blood of the brother they had each once held so dear..."

The last minutes of Dayne's speech are delivered in a soft, passion filled tone, his eyes flicking about the shadowed valley floor as if watching the two brothers fight, hundreds of years later. He pauses when his account is finished, drawing a few deep, almost sobbing breaths before he concludes,"So you see, Eurydian, the squabbles of siblings are a serious business here in Pantera. These two brothers ripped the land apart, and all for naught... There are hundreds, thousands of acounts like this, all terrible, this is only the most famous tale of such, and both of these men were the ancestors of Bastien and myself. Reavers are a prickly bunch, you see. Bastien was born first, truly, and so my father chose him to rule, but Pantera as a whole does not care in the slightest...

"To rule as Lord Reaver you must be strong enough to annihilate any who would usurm, so that you may protect and serve the Free Lands. To show weakness as Bastien has is unforgiveable. Even now his Lords war upon one another, and what has he done? I would rather die now and my soul forever burn that do this..."

His tone hardens, and he rises,"But you see, I must. There is no other option. Bastien is weak, and ineffectual. The rest of the Reaver Lords are too bent on holding and wielding power to rule wisely, or readying to use that power to war elsewhere. This is unacceptable. My father's spirit watches, and I know that he would rather me become Lord Reaver than to have me sit and watch as Bastien's Lords rip apart our Free Lands.

"I have no more time for those who have no stomach for this kind of war. Bastien will fight, be assured of that. He will fight until his men are dead, his ammunition spent, and his sword broken. Know that, and know that should you choose to help me, many Eurydians will die. There is no chance for it to be otherwise. The fact that you are of another world means little, be assured of that. Long has Bastien been planning for an altercation with an extra-Sol nation. There is the chance that Dreadfire may interfere, and that I will have to kill him as well. There are hundeds of nations that will protest, calling me Usurper.

"They will choke upon their words when the full might of the Reavers are behind me, but first, I must put Pantera to rights...

"No, Eurydian, there is no other choice, so I will return your own question, how far are you willing to go to aid me in returning the Peace to Pantera? All the way? If not, turn and leave me now. "


{OOC: Jesus, I don't care for that scene at all, but it's the best I've got right now, as my hand is about to explode. Hope you like it more than me...}

OOC: Hmm... Not that bad once I go back, but still not what I was wanting. I was trying to get across exactly how shocking the rest of this RP is going to be, because trust me, those two pansies got nothing on Dayne and Bastien.... *glorified bump*

Beowulf sat in silence for a few moments. Etched across his aged, yet handsome face sat a deeply contemplative look. He couldn’t get around the things Dayne had said, and most importantly, he didn’t know what Eurydice was willing to do. Beowulf’s people had long been regarded as peaceful, perhaps weak even. Most never visited the Republic, and therefore based their opinions on only half-truths. So-called experts on Eurydian culture regarded them as docile, aristocratic people with no stomach for death. They say, because of Eurydice’s 2000 years of peace that warfare is not part of the Eurydian culture. These people fail to ask, “Why is it that Eurydice has been at peace for so long? How can a republic so vast be so friendly?”

Because they are not. Any Eurydian you happen upon will tell of the truths regarding their culture. They will tell you that on the Eurydian fringe worlds wars have been fought for the last hundred years. The Emperor’s own Imperial Guard, the Royal Navy, and the Dread Legions have all been engaged in combat for a century on these fertile planets. While peace is kept on Eurydice (where the few tourists that come are allowed to visit), on the far off world of Corsica an entire Legion is fighting tooth and nail with rebel forces. The war is silent though, and no records of engagements ever leave the dark and shadowy halls of the Eurydian High Command. Even the Directorate with all its power is given only minor details of Dread Legion engagements.

No. Warfare was (and is) a very real part of Eurydian life, and –at the moment—a very real part of Beowulf’s train of thought. I know what my men are capable of… but Reavers fight with a ferocity not known to Eurydians for over 2000 years. Many men will die a bloody and horrid death, and is that worth helping Dayne? Beowulf stroked the white, gruff mass of fur on his face and sighed. I could be damning a million mothers to lose their sons for a worthless cause. Then again, I could be saving an entire nation from a long and lonesome trip down the fiery road to Turoth.

Boewulf stood and looked at Dayne’s strange eyes. While the Panteran stood taller, Boewulf’s stare seemed to command the absolute attention of those present. His jaw remained firmly set as he spoke. “The history of Eurydice keeps finding its way back into my mind the longer I sit here thinking. You may wonder what it has to do with your nations plight? I think it strikes at the very center of my decision.” He paused for a second, mulling over what to say next. “You see… we sacrificed over 8 million for the unification of Eurydice 2000 years ago, and in that war we used spears, swords, and shields. We hacked each other to death for over 10 years, and because of it we now have what we have: prosperity. Without the death of those men and women we would still be running around with our staves and our bows. Through the ashes we emerged stronger.”

Beowulf chuckled for a moment and grinned softly. “Forgive me, this is no time for a history lesson.” The smile faded, and Boewulf continued in his usual, confident tone. “But what would have happened if someone had assisted us? While it’s true our whole world was plunged into war, had someone been able to help, things would not have been so wretched for my people. We would have been spared so much destruction.

“Or perhaps look at it this way Evenstar, because this is how I myself see it. If Eurydice were plunged into a civil war this very day and Gaise Starshone called upon you instead of Kiyane calling upon me, would you just sit idly by and watch our nation tear itself apart? Would you allow an ally –no matter how prideful or powerful—to cast itself upon the jagged rocks of turmoil without lending a single man? Could it be that Pantera would just turn its back on Eurydice during our darkest hour? Could it truly be that those who pride themselves on honor and integrity would shield their eyes from our suffering?”

Beowulf shook his head quickly. “No, you wouldn’t. If we asked of it, you would send ten thousand Reavers to a bloody death for our cause, and they would do so willingly. How then can I turn my back on Pantera?” His head shook again, but slower this time. “I can’t. I won’t. And neither will Eurydice.”

Boewulf took a step forward and extended his hand. “We are ready to come, are you ready have us?”

OOC: My girl's prom is tonight, and I have a few things to take care of this weekend, namely getting smashed and doing a few illegal things. I may get in a couple of posts tomorrow, but if not count on one Sunday.

Rock and roll.

ooc: And yet again the forums work in unison with my evil ISP to eradicate one of my posts. Right now I want to gut and kill something or someone, so I'll leave it along for even LONGER. Sorry about the wait. I've been frantically rushing about the past few days, trying to set things up for the job that I start monday, and trying to live up to my responsibilities on another RPG. Apologies about the wait, but this will come off if I have to kill EVERYONE.

Word.

OOC: Sorry about the horrible wait, but it's given me time to think about this plotline and where I want it to go. Sadly, it's nowhere near as far as I'd previously planned, and with a completely different ending. I'd initially planned for this to be the turning point in Pantera that I'd envisioned since beginning my nation, but I've decided that that can wait. There are a few things I would like to accomplish before I take the plunge into that particular cauldron of blood and fire, particularly a longer life for a good portion of my population. I plan on finishing this little RP, but in a slightly different way...

Bloc, could you hit me on AIM? There are a few things I'd like to discuss with ya before I tie things up here.

Again, apologies to those of you who've waited a month for more only to be disappointed. I'll make it up to you, I promise.

OOC: Ok, let me know what's up, because I desperatly need to kill off a Warchief of mine (not Zander), and I was thinking of having him help Dayne in his quest.

OOC: AIM and we'll work something out.

--The following is an account written by Eddyn Spraydare, squire to the Evenstar and the twelve year old Lord of Foxgrove, a tiny southern Panteran province. It covers almost six weeks, from the meeting of Dayne and Beowulf to the fall of the seven Cities of Shine. --

I keep this journal at the request of my Lord Evenstar, so that songs may be written for us, should every Reaver among us perish, as is likely.

The Summer Storm Campaign

May 5th -- My Lord Dayne Evenstar and the Eurydian Beowulf meet in the Shining Gate of the Vale. The Southern Cities continue their rebellion as the Vale continues to burn. In the North, the Lord Reaver remains quiet, though reports indicate his Reavers have begun to moblize.

May 8th -- Beowulf sails out of the Shining Harbor at the head of a massive fleet of his own Eurydian ships and a force of Reavers as well. Alongside him sails the near legendary Reaver Caval the Warhound, sworn-sword of the Evenstar. He harasses rebel fleets as he sails southwest, around the southern tip of the Panteran homeland. In a daring nighttime assault he captures the large port of Led Pelin, losing few men and easily subjugating the province of Led. Six hundred miles to the north, the Evenstar leads his own armies south, to clash with the still lurking might of Godsgrace's rebellion.

May 10th - 16th -- Beowulf leads his host along the Southern coast of Pantera subjugating near three hundred miles of coastline in less than one week. His tactical genius and ferocity in battle, coupled with his fighting alongside the Warhound, won the admiration of many Reavers, who bestow upon him the soulname of Wulfking. During this weeklong stretch of near constant battle, the Evenstar leads lightning raid after lighning raid against the near leaderless forces of the now-dead Godsgrace rebellion.

May 18th -- The Evenstar finally brings his full host to battle against the Godsgrace rebels. In sixteen hours of bloody fighting near eighteen thousand Reavers lose their lives. Most of these casualties are on the side of the rebels, due to the timely and apparently unnoticed arrival of the Wulfking and the Warhound behind the entrenched rebels.

May 21st -- Dayne demands and recieves the surrender of the final Southron Lords, and assumes command of their Reavers. Though many of these Reavers are forced to remain behind to ensure the continued pacification of the South, the Evenstars forces swell exponentially. Together, the Evenstar, the Wulfking, and the Warhound have conquered Southern Pantera with a handful of starving Reavers. Against enemies that outnumber them tenfold, they prevail.

May 22nd -- The summer rains begin. Great roiling thunderheads loom overhead, churning and drumping torrential rains down upon the Vale and the North. The south is gratefully spared the worst of the storms, and day by day the Evenstar's southern infrastucture rights itself.

May 25th -- The Southron host at his back, Dayne marches north from the Shining Gate. His host numbers near one hundred twenty thousand Reavers. The Vale continues to smoke and starve, but Daynes hurriedly orders food sent from the south. The still dazed-from-defeat Southern Lords grumble, but fearing Daynes wrath, comply quicky.

May 27th -- The Evenstar's host clashes with tribal guerillas from the Dawn Mountains. The fighting is fierce and bloody, but through sheer weight of numbers, the Evenstar sweeps the foothills of the looming, frozen mountains.

May 28th -- The Seastone Council openly condemns the Evenstar as a Usurper. War is declared on Eurydice and the tides of the Reavers of the north armies crash about the Northern, Burning Gate of the Vale, funneling themselves into the great valley and plunging south to cofront the Evenstar. The Lord Reaver remains silent.

May 31st -- June 8th The Evenstar and the Wulfking lead near continuous raids upon the main body of the Northern Host. For nine days they become nightmarish apparitions, emerging from the rain-soaked forests and foothills to wreak terrible damage on the moving lines of men, tanks, and support vehicles. Many of the Northmen, fearing further retribution, defect to Daynes own ranks. They bring with them the name given to Daynes brilliant campaign, now dubbed 'The Summer Storm' due to the ferocity and unpredictability of their attacks.

June 10th -- The Northmen, fearing to be encircled by the Evenstar, withdraw to the Burning Gate, only to discover that a squad of Rigante, the tribal Death Legions, had managed to assault and annihilate the garrison of the Gate. Through sheer weight of numbers the Northmen manage to overwhelm the tiny units of Rigante and retake the Burning Gate. They hold it against the ferocious Rigante onslaught long enough for the main portion of their tattered, weary host to push through and take up position to the north of the Vale. The Evenstar is worried, for the tactics of the Northmen are poorly executed and planned. This tells him that his brother, the Lord Reaver, had yet to take the field against him.

June 12th -14th -- The Evenstars host pushes north, skirmishing with the northmen unit he reaches the Seven Cities of Shine.

--- The Lord Reaver has ordered me to break here, and to explain the significance of the Seven Cities. Long ago, the cities were, indeed, seven seperate cities, each owing allegiance to a different Tribe. The strip of land they sit on is incredibly rich, with numerous mines, rich fields, and to the north the River Dogshead. Situated close together, the Seven Cities were each fortified mightily, and were filld with many warriors. When the Iron Lion came and sacked the cities, he made them his main seat of power, aside from Toke and the Seastone Palace. The Seven Cities were of great strategic value, being so defensible. When one of the Cities came under attack, Reavers from the other six would sally and attack their enemies in hte flank. This made taking the Cities extremely difficult, if not utterly impossible. Over the centuries the Seven Cities have grown into one, but what remains are seven great citadels, each defending the others, and the tactics employed by the Iron Lion. ---

June 15 - 17th -- The morning of the 15th is heralded by the first rounds of the Evenstars artillery slamming into the walls of the Seven Cities. His host fans wide and moves to encircle the sprawling urban mass but is repeatedly driven back by attacks from within the Cities. Seemingly vanquished, the Evenstar begins to withdraw, only to be attacked by a massive force. The idiots in the Cities had emptied the Reaver garrisons to assault the withdrawing, but far from defeated Evenstar. Wheeling his host, Dayne plunges his meager assortment of tanks and heavy armor into the eastern sector of the city. His vanguard of Reaver infantry is sent to meet the rushing threat of the sally. This is near midnight on the 16th of June. By dawn of the next day, three of the Citadels have fallen, two more have been utterly destroyed, and the final two have offered terms of surrender to Dayne. By dusk of the 17th, the Secen are in the hands of the Evenstar, and all that lies between him and his brother is the march west, to Toke, and the Seastone Palace.

OOC: Word up. One last bump for those of you who want/need it. Back in awhile with my next post, which will be the culmination of the war, and Bastien's confrontation with Dayne.

The final turret exploded in a gout of flame and smoke. As per their orders, the Reaver gunners ceased fire as debris shot from the raging inferno of the turret. Across the city of Toke fires burned and people screamed, but even that was muted. After three continuous hours of artillery shelling, the suddenness of the silence was almost jarring.

Soon, as Dayne knew they would, the smallfolk of the city began to riot, calling for Bastien's surrender. Squads of defending Reavers were set upon by the peasants and ripped limb from limb, their corpses mutilated and piled high in the streets, to show Dayne that the great city of Toke, the capitol of Pantera, was his again.

Near two hours later, with dusk falling, Dayne and his carefully chosen fist of Reavers made their way up the switchback road that zigzagged across the towering Cliffs of Toke, to the gargantuan stone citadel perched almost three thousand feet above the city. In the fading sunlight the greenish stones of the palace shone, the lichen spotting the walls taking on a golden-orange cast.

The great gates of the Palace were closed, as Dayne knew they would be. Bastien would fight to the last, he knew.

The Evenstar huddiedly prepared his fist of Reavers for the assault, but soon a solitary man emerged from a smaller gate, a white cloth waving fom the barrel of his rifle. Not surrender, then, but a discussion of terms...

Dayne's face was grim as he eyed the messenger. His voice cracked with weariness and anger as he made his reply,"There will be no quarter given to those who resist. I ask none for myself my Reavers. We are here to see Pantera united, or we are here to see Valhalla. You go, and tell Bastien and his lapdogs that, eh?"

The messenger rushed off, and soon the mighty gates of the palace swung open. Confused and fearing a trap, Dayne sends a small unit ahead to ascertain the reason for Bastien's hurried surrender. In less than an hour, one returned, claiming the Palace emptied save for a few servagts and old, feeble Reavers.

This just keeps getting stranger. Where is Bastien, and why will he not give battle? My brother is no coward, and I would think he would relish the chance to spill my blood... Dayne thought, wiping a hangd through the sheen of smoke and gore that painted face.

"Alright Reavers. I want another fist brought up from the city. The remainder of my host is to sit tight and continue helping the smallfolk. Put out all fires and get the bodies moved. We damn sure don't need a plague..." He barks before turning his attention back to the palace.

With grim determination, Dayne strode through the great gates and began the long, slow search for his brother. His wait was not long...

Dayne's searching Reavers had found Bastien quickly. He had been staked out atop the Seadragon Tower. Dayne stomach churned as he looked upon what had been done to his brother. It was obvious that Bastien had been a long time in dying, and that he had fought ferociously before his attackers had managed to fell him. The knuckles of his one remaining hand were brused and broken, his fingers coated with gore and hair that was not his own.

His face was set in a snarling rictus of death, its color black and mottled from the severe beatings he had endured during his final hours. Strange symbols had been carved and in places, branded, into the flesh of his face and chest, while his entrails had been spilled in one swift, slash. Dayne figured this had been what had killed him, but the mutilation had gone on. The bluish snakes of his guts had been strung about his neck, a grisly adornment for a once magnificent warrior. His right hand, his sword hand, had been severed above the wrist. The hand was gone, but the deed had been done well after his death, for the stump had bled little.

That he had been dead for awhile was obvious. The sun and salty spray of the Blood Bay had shriveled his skin and entrails about his neck, causing the once-massive warrior to seem small in death, almost weak. His beautifully healthy golden hair had turned brittle and, along with his flesh, had fallen from his head in places, leaving patches of skull visible.

Gulls and carrion birds had been at his corpse, but the summer rains had kept them somewhat at bay. Still, his brothers remains were a horrifying sight, and one that would haunt his already tortured dreams forever.

Choking back a sob, Dayne sent orders for his men to question the servants and remaining Reavers in the Palace and to prepare a place for Bastien's remains until he could be lain to rest.

For the moment, Dayne cared only to grieve, miserable for the things he had thought of his brother, and burning with the searing heat of vengeance unrealized.

...........................................................................................

Several hours later Dayne sat in the Great Hall, perched upon the Seastone Throne that had once belonged to his father, and Bastien, and a thousand other men who were obviously better suited to it than he. Still, the duty was now his, and though he ached with sorrow, much remained to be done.

Slowly, his Reavers began to piece together what had occurred during Daynes rebellion, and Bastien's final months.

It appeared that Bastien had withdrawn to his quarters for long periods of time, apparently paranoid that a plot was afoot among the Seastone Council to sieze power. Apparently, he was not far wrong for soon Bastien fell ill, probably poisoned. By this time, Godsgrace was in open rebellion in the South, with Dayne gone missing.

The Council had ordered a lid kept on Bastien's illness, and had soon exchanged Bastien's loyal household guards at the Palace with Reavers of their own choosing. Rather than sieze power of their own, the Council acted together, wielding power in the name of the Lord Reaver.

About this time Dayne defeats Godsgrace and siezes the South. The Council begins to get antsy, for they had not yet gained full control of Bastien's Northern Reavers. With Dayne marching up the Vale all but unhindered, they began to maneuver quickly. This would prove to be their undoing. Had they concentrated on the forces at hand, and saw that they were properly led, they could have easily held the Burning Gate against the Evenstat's numerically inferior force. This was not the case, however, and soon the Council began to openly bicker amongst themselves.

Two days before the fall of the Burning Gate to the Evenstar, Bastien had come awake and had attempted to escape his captors. Severely outnumbered, he managed to kill eight men before they beat him unconsious and had him chained to the wall atop the Seadragon Tower. Here they tortured him until they finally spilled his guts the next morning.

Word among the servants was that Bastien had cursed them all for cowards, claiming that Dayne would see their wives raped and children burned in retribution for their treason. The Evenstar knew immediately that Bastien had spoken true. Vengeance.

OOC: I'll ask that noone comment ICly just yet on Bastien's death. I'll make an IC announcement whan I'm ready.