NationStates Jolt Archive

This is linked due to the efforts of my nation expanding from this thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=515024

The sun was shining bright, setting at its highest peak over Soul Society. Shadows disappeared and all was exposed to the white light. Wind howled across the plains like a pack of wolves with the scent of prey upon them. The long willow trees swayed in their dance to the music of the wind and swirls of cherry blossoms fell from their branches.

Standing in the middle of a large clearing stood a man dressed in a simple black robe tied tight with a white sash. He wore white battle gloves and tight combat-style sandals on his feet, the white tabi socks covered in leather thongs. His hair was long and brown, tied back in a pony tail that rested between his shoulders. A shadow was on his chin and cheeks from lack of shaving. His eyes were closed.

Without warning twenty entirely black garbed warriors appeared around him. From head to foot they wore black, with the exception of eye slits in their masks. Some held swords, others spears, and a few held naginata. The man disappeared in a flash. He moved faster than the eye could follow.

One black warrior launched a spear. He ran right past the awkward missile, which he could have harmlessly caught if he had so desired, and landed a powerful kick into the chest of the thrower. The warrior cried out in pain and his body was launched back several dozen meters. The other warriors began moving.

Another warrior appeared right behind him but the man never slowed, sliding down low beneath the warrior’s defensively whipping spear and deftly flipped over a swing of the spear. His hands came up and slammed into the warrior’s stomach, all air exploding out from the man’s mouth in a gasp. The warrior fell to the ground, knocked out. The man didn’t stop there. He continued to flip backwards for five more rotations until he was faced by three more warriors who had managed to follow his movements. The man closed his eyes and moved purely on instinct, his muscles and movements reacting to the noises around him and to his tactile sensations.

A leg rose like lightning and incapacitated another warrior. The other two swung down with their swords. The man’s hands gripped their wrists and he twisted above and over the foolish blades. With a crack the two warriors were slammed together with the force of a falling tree and fell to the ground, their swords laid useless at their sides. The other warriors charged in, yelling battle cries.

The man moved faster than sight again. His fist smashed into a warrior’s chin with a powerful upper cut. With a short jump and extending of legs in opposite directions two warriors were thrown from the fight, their chests nearly caved in. Twisting in and out of the different attacks the man moved with a grace that belied anything that could be considered normal. With a quick round house kick he sent another warrior flying to thunder into three other of his companions, making them fall in a heap.

Finally there were only two warriors left standing. They edge around the man who was standing in his original starting position. Bodies of their fellow warriors were lying all around, some barely moving and others shifting in pain.

“Come,” said the man.

Blue auras erupted from the two warriors. The air around them churned as they brought their spirit powers to their maximum output. Each raised his sword and sped on at tremendous speeds at the main. A normal man would not have seen them.

“Too slow,” said the man.

A fist appeared in the face of one warrior. It hit with the force of a sledge hammer. All thoughts of revenge and desire to fight disappeared with loss of conscience. Before the warrior could even fall to the ground the man disappeared again. The last warrior sensed behind him and turned, swinging with all his might. His sword roared with his aura and power.

The sword blade stopped. The man was holding up his hand and a single finder was extended out. It was resting against the blade’s edge as if testing its sharpness. The man smiled at the horror filled look in the warrior’s eyes. “You were good enough to sense me behind you. Not bad, but not good enough.” A last thunderous kick to the stomach sent the warrior flying backwards like a sack of potatoes. The warrior landed atop a few of his fellows and remained unmoving.

The man sighed. “Practice makes perfect they say, but this is not very challenging.”

Clapping suddenly erupted from the trees surrounding the clearing. A woman dressed similarly to the man stepped out from behind a tree and walking forward, clapping. She smiled at him and threw a towel in his face.

“I must say I think you’re getting rusty. That took at least ten minutes. I remember about twenty years ago that you could do the same in less than five,” said the woman. A black sheathed katana hung from her white sash. A white mantle robe was over her black ones. On the shoulder of the mantle was a crest showing the number “3”.

“Kiri-chan,” said the man. “That was when facing only ten. And these special forces guys are better than the ones I use to practice with.”

Kiritsune Habachi, Captain of the 3rd Shinigami Squad, laughed at the man. “And people call you the ‘Great Captain Totomi’ all the time! If only they could see you now!”

Saito Totomi smiled and wiped his brow with the towel that he had been given. A small sheen of sweat was on him. Though usual, it wasn’t entirely surprising that he break out some sweat; he hadn’t even raised his power to shikai level for this practice round after all.

A group of black hakama wearing men came out of the trees next to Kiritsune. Each of them was wearing a katana in their black sashes. Two of them, wearing a white arm band, came over to Saito and Kiritsune. They bowed.

“Captain Totomi, Captain Habachi,” said one of the men. “My men will handle taking care of the wounded.”

“What Lieutenant Daigen means,” said the other., “Is that 4th Squad will take care of the practice injuries.”

“Shut up you 11th Squad slacker!” Lieutenant Daigen yelled at his counterpart.

“Lieutenant Tohya and Lieutenant Daigen,” said Kiritsune. Both froze and went to attention, ram-rod straight. “Please cooperate with each other and clear this practice field.” Both Shinigami lieutenants nodded and bowed their heads. They walked off, and once out of earshot of the two captains, began bickering with each other.

Saito smiled then looked at Kiritsune. “Why did you come here by the way Kiri-chan? Not to just see me practice I hope.”

“No,” said Kiritsune. “Captain-Commander Yamata is ordering a meeting of the 15 Shinigami Squad captains. We’re to report as soon as possible.” She said it without any emotion in her voice and she didn’t look Saito in the eyes. Saito’s eyes however were widening. A meeting of the 15 captains had not happened in over fifty years. For them to be meeting now must mean something serious had happened.

“It can’t be helped I guess,” said Saito. He walked over to a willow tree and picked up his katana and slid it into his sash. He then took his favorite pink and white over kimono from a branch and put it around his shoulders. As a captain of the 15 shinigami squads, Saito was allowed to wear the white mantle of that office just like Kiritsune. However he often liked to wear this, his favorite kimono. A bamboo hat came next and tied around him chin.

He turned to Lieutenant Tohya who was supervising putting the black special forces warriors onto stretchers. “Oi, Tohya-kun, you have things here?”

“Yes Captain! No need to worry,” his lieutenant called back. Saito (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Bleach/Shunsui_KyC58Draku.jpg) nodded and turned to Kiritsune.

“Let us go then Kiri-chan.”

The two took a single step before vanishing from sight. Lieutenant Tohya shook his head at the empty spot. When am I ever going to be able to flash-step like they do? he sighed and got back to his work. “Alright you guys! Lets get them to 4th squads medical center. Go! Go! Go!”

The swords flashed in the sunlight, trapping a crude axe in between their blades. A twist and a flick sent the goblin's weapon spinning away, opening its torso for a quick stab. The armored footpaw smashed into its chest, pushing it off of the sword and into the rocky ground.

War-Prince Zayethein Zerakea wiped his twin bastard swords on the goblin's tunic, and then look around. This tribe had made the fatal mistake of encroaching on Zjiugias, and paid the ultimate price. Zayeth's company of rangers, fifty strong, had exterminated all two hundred goblins without suffering a single casuality. Their animal companions, mostly bears and big cats, were now feasting on their enemies' corpses.

Tall even for a viath, Zayeth was renowned as the best swordsman in Zjiugias, and perhaps even in the world. His gold-flecked jade eyes surveyed the sparse woodlands, watching his rangers move about and finish off any wounded goblins. His dire tiger Raghylzjiak nudged his side. Zayeth scratched its ears roughly, heaving himself onto its back. "Move out!" he called, and the rangers began to move north.

The great alarm drums of Seireitei, the citadel capital of Soul Society, cried aloud in their bass tones. Trumpets from each different Shinigami squad squealed out their notes, alerting each different squad with its individual tunes. Black robed shinigami ran to their posts. Meals were halted and games of leisure were forgotten. Swords were pushed into sashes and all rushed to report to their respective barracks.

Saito and Kiritsune halted in their flash-steps just outside the great 50 meter tall Sacred White Gate, one of four gates that allowed entrance through the 40 meter high stone walls of Seireitei. The gate guard finally noticed them as they stood waiting.

“Who goes there?”

“Captain Totomi and Captain Habachi,” called out Saito. “Open the gates; we’ve business with Old Man Yamata.” Saito was the only one who ever got away with calling Captain-Commander Yamata ‘old man’. Few knew how, but didn’t dear to copy the captain.

“Yes sir Captain Totomi,” called the gate guard. He turned and walked the twenty paces to the other side of the gate. He looked down into the courtyard behind and waved at the men waiting down there in two troops. “Oi! Open the gate! Two captains are waiting!”

With a shout the thirty shinigami rushed forwards to the gates. A series of iron locked were undone, then three 10ft long oak poles were pulled out of their sockets, and finally two ropes attached to each gate door were pulled by 15 men each. They pulled with all their strength, straining themselves, until the gates slowly began opening. It took about seven minutes before a man sized gap appeared in the gate.

Saito stepped through the gate and tipped his straw hat to the gate keepers who were breathing heavily and sitting around. “Thanks fellas.” Kiritsune stepped in after him and the two once more jumped into their flash-steps.

They went above the roofs and low walls of the city headed for the central high peak, a small mountain, that the main castle was built into. A grand stair case of marble led up the high peak to where a flying white flag with a black dragon upon it flew from. It took less than 15 minutes of flash-stepping before Saito and Kiritsune appeared at the zenith of the steps and under the flag.

“I wish we had an easier way of getting up here,” said Saito. “It takes so long I could have stayed back and drank sake all day before a person could walk normally up these.”

“You complain too much,” said Kiritsune. “And you’re always either drunk on rice wine or flirting with the new female recruits.”

“It can’t be helped I suppose,” said Saito. He smiled at Kiritsune as if he had made a small mistake, as if trying to turn it into a joke. She clicked her tongue at him and shook her head.

“You’re hopeless. Come on, we don’t have much time.”

The two walked through the white washed halls of the keep. They passed other black robed shinigami guards, each of whom bowed as they passed. Finally they reached a large red painted door. Gold lettering adorned its red surface. It read “Hall of Wisdom.” The meeting room of the 15 Shinigami Divisions. Saito opened the door and walked in, Kiritsune on his heels.

Inside stood the other 13 white mantled captains, a black signet marking each of their over robes at the center on their backs. Each signet stood for the number of each division that captain commanded.

“3rd Squad Captain Habachi, 11th Squad Captain Totomi,” said Captain-Commander Yamata, “so nice of you to finally join us.” Kiritsune and Saito bowed before Yamata. He was old, older than any of the captains, and was the most powerful, or so legend told. He was well into his sixth century but still commanded the respect of his position as commander of the 15 Shinigami Divisions of Soul Society. He was not a tall man and his head was bald except for a long white beard that reached to his waist-line.

Saito got into his position next to 10th Squad Captain Kariya (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Bleach/bleach_ukitake49.jpg). Kiritsune stepped into line next to 4th Squad Captain Hanamori (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Bleach/Toushirou_Hitsugaya.jpg) and 5th Squad Captain Noborune (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Bleach/bleach_ichimaru0038.jpg). “Late again?” whispered Kariya to Saito.

“Don’t blame me, I wasn’t informed until just now,” replied Saito. “What is old man Yamata all worried about that he has to get us together?”

“Won’t you two shut up?” inquired 12th Squad Captain Zatoichi (http://www.animegalleries.net/albums/bleach/11c_zaraki_kenpachi/bleach_kenpachi0003.jpg). The small bells attached to his twelve hair spikes jingled as he tilted his head at the pair. He towered over them by two feet, forcing Saito to look up at him.

“Sorry ‘Big Guy’ we’re just chatting,” said Saito.

“All three of your silence,” said Yamata, his wooden, gnarled cane smashed to the floor. All went quiet and none of them dared to speak. Yamata looked at each of the captains in turn then nodded. “Good. Now you must all be wondering as to why I called you here. That is because I have been made aware of a growing threat. A threat from the north that could possibly engulf us all in our nation.”

Saito and Kariya both frowned at Yamata. As two of the oldest captains, and having been students together under Yamata himself, the two captains were equally surprised by the seriousness of his tone.

“They are called the Valgardians. An empire that has been creeping slowly south from beyond the great far north under the iron shod boot of their armies. I have deemed it that they have grown now too powerful. The balance that was once upon this land is slowly disappearing. War, which we have not had in 300 years, may soon be upon us,” said Yamata. His voice echoed through the room. Each of the captains was wondering were this was all leading.

“Well then,” interrupted Captain Zatoichi. “Why don’t we just attack in full force and wipe them out?”

“It is not that simple Naga-kun,” said 5th Squad Captain Noborune. “Why else would Yamata-dono call us here unless it was far more serious than that?”

“Why else indeed,” said Yamata. “I have sent a group of our special forces to gather information on this new, possible enemy. Once we know more details, we will be able to act. I want each of you to increase the training of your divisions and to keep a sharp eye out for anything. I am declaring all of Soul Society be on level 3 alert.

We have until this time remained neutral to the outside kingdoms, nearly anonymous . And for good reason. We must learn as much as possible of this new threat or we could perish under them as the rest of the north lands have. We must all be prepared. Is that understood?"

“Yes Captain-Commander,” chorused all the captains as one.

“Good, you are dismissed.”


City of Yiorit, Southern Valgardian Lands

Hans Tekamah had been a merchant in the city of Yiorit for more than forty years. He had been there when the Valgardian Empire had first come marching to the gates of the city. After its fall which wasn’t that surprising, Hans had made himself indispensable to the new ruling elite, gaining the trust of the new noble Valgardians. He increased their profits in the trade lines that went through the city, a way point between three parts of the land, and increased his own private fortune as well.

Because he was such a good merchant he was trusted and well liked. He had many friends within the new regime’s bureaucracy and would often send gifts to the ruling baron of Yiorit. However before he had come to live in Yiorit, Hans had been a citizen of Soul Society. He still held in his heart the loyalty to that nation.


Hans stepped back and forth in his private study, very nervous. Books lined the walls of the room and expensive rugs covered the alabaster floors. A red wood sitting table was in the far center of the room where he usually sat, the open balcony just behind, the window open to allow a cool breeze. He was supposed to be meeting a spy of some sort from Seireitei this night. Where is he?

Without warning the four torches that hung from side wall racks along the wall went out. The room was thrown into darkness except for the one candle that he kept burning on his desk. Hans stepped over to the candle and stayed in its light. He glanced around in the darkness but could see or hear nothing.

“Whose there?” he asked aloud. A minute passed. Two. His hands began to sweat. He heard a faint noise to his left. “Lyson, is that you?” he asked, thinking it might be his personal servant.

The candle suddenly went out. An arm locked around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. He felt a blade at his throat.

“Say it now and say it correctly,” whispered a voice in his ear.

“D-Death Gods…”

The grip released. Hans turned in the darkness, terrified. ‘Where are you?” he gasped.

“Still here,” said the voice, behind him again. Hans switched around again “What are you doing? Show yourself!” said Hans.

“All in good time. You got a name?” The voice was behind him yet again. Hans froze.

“My name is Hans Tekamah.” There was a click of tinder sticks and the candle on the desk relit. Hans swung around to look at it, a small knife in his waist band coming out. He held it out in guard position. The candle fluttered, solitarily. There was no sign of whoever had lit it.

“Stop it!” demanded Hans. “Where are you?”

“Right here.” Hans froze as he felt the cold metal of a sword blade resting against the back of his beck. “Put the knife down.” Hans gently put the knife down on the desk.

“How did you get in here?” he asked the voice.

“I was in here all the time.”

“Impossible! I was here the entire evening. I looked over every inch of the room,” said Hans, flabbergasted.

“Not well enough apparently.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Mei-ling. 4th Seat, 8th Shinigami Squad of Soul Society. A member of the special forces division.”

“Could you take the sword off my neck?”

A man appeared in the candlelight in front of Hans. He was short, compact, and shrouded in tight black clothing that seemed to melt into the darkness. “I could,” he said softly, “if it was my sword. Tomoe? Let the poor man off the leash.”

The pressure of the sword blade went away. Hans glanced around and saw the second man. Just a shadow in the extremity of the candlelight. Taller than the first, a murmur of shape. “W-what are you?” Hans stammered. “Ghosts?”

By the light of the single candle flame, Hans saw the eyes of the man calling himself Mei-ling crinkled and glint. A smile. That was the most unnerving thing of all, for clearly this was a face unaccustomed to smiles. “You could say that,” Mei-ling said.

They led Hans out of his study and into the main hall. The only light was that of the moon coming in through the windows along the walls. His servant Lyson and his cook were on their knees facing a wall. A third man in black stood watch over them.

“Vince?” Mei-ling asked.

“These two seem to be the only other ones sir,” the third man replied.

“Three of you, is that correct?” Mei-ling asked Hans.

“Yes,” answered Hans. He heard the muffled click of a sword being put back into its sheath and watched as the man named Mei-ling stepped next to the third man. He whistled in a particular tune, a bird’s tune. He then turned to the man named Tomoe.

“Tomoe, take Vince and secure the building. Make sure there is no one else here.” Mei-lings two comrades moved off and disappeared into the darkness at once. Then other shapes loomed, detaching themselves from the night. At least a half a dozen figures. Hans hadn’t heard or seen any of them, yet they had been there the whole time.

“You are the merchant Hans?” asked the tallest, an imposing man.

“Yes,” said Hans. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Well, nothing except get the information we need,” said 3rd Seat, 8th Shinigami Squad member Tousen Mori. “We need the information you’ve been compiling on the Valgardians.”

“I have it in my study. May I show you?”

“Of course. Just be sure not to make any sudden movements and my men won’t have to kill you.”

“Ok, no problem.” Hans led Tousen back to the study and pulled a book down from the showcase. An audible click was heard and the shelf swung out and away. It revealed a hidden shelf. A large book and piles of papers were sitting inside.

“This should be everything you need. Crop harvest, a list of all major Valgardian nobles, cities, a map of the empire, the number of troops in this city, a report on trade going through the empire, and a short summary of their history,” said Hans, a hint of pride coming into his voice.

“Very good,” said the leader. He took all the documents and put them in a bag which he handed to another of the black garbed men. “We will be contacting you again soon.”

The entire room was once more engulfed in darkness. Hans stumbled around for about ten minutes before he found his own tinder sticks and relit the torches. The entire room was empty, no trace left that there had been any men there at all. He stood there quietly for a moment when his body servant rushed in saying that the others had disappeared as well. Hans took a long swig out of a bottle of red wine he had and decided that he might not be very good at this sort of thing, spying.

The swords flashed in the sunlight, trapping a crude axe in between their blades. A twist and a flick sent the goblin's weapon spinning away, opening its torso for a quick stab. The armored footpaw smashed into its chest, pushing it off of the sword and into the rocky ground.

War-Prince Zayethein Zerakea wiped his twin bastard swords on the goblin's tunic, and then look around. This tribe had made the fatal mistake of encroaching on Zjiugias, and paid the ultimate price. Zayeth's company of rangers, fifty strong, had exterminated all two hundred goblins without suffering a single casuality. Their animal companions, mostly bears and big cats, were now feasting on their enemies' corpses.

Tall even for a viath, Zayeth was renowned as the best swordsman in Zjiugias, and perhaps even in the world. His gold-flecked jade eyes surveyed the sparse woodlands, watching his rangers move about and finish off any wounded goblins. His dire tiger Raghylzjiak nudged his side. Zayeth scratched its ears roughly, heaving himself onto its back. "Move out!" he called, and the rangers began to move north.From the northeast came a group of forty Valgardian Rangers jogging at a relatively high speeds and came over a nearby ridge and then halted. A number of the men then went and sat down on a few of the rocks and the rest drank some water. The commander of the group and his second in command had been tracking the goblins after they had been spotted near a village in the Valgardian Empire.

Taken notice that all them were died and that the kills were fresh, while still at a distance, went down with his second in command and four of his Rangers. Descending below he saw a number of the creatures that had been most likely responsible for their deaths. Knowing that they were most probably already knew that they were there said in a powerful enough voice for them to be able to hear them well enough said,” Greetings, I see that you have properly disposed of these vile creatures. We had been tracking them for a the last couple of days after they came close to raiding one of our towns and killed a number of our people. I and my men are quite tired after hunting these creatures and we desire to seek sanctuary in your lands long enough for us recover and then we shall return to our lands. Will you grant us this?”

SnipThe very morning when news had been gathered of strong happening at book keeper, named Hans, house was gathered a group of Valgardian soldiers had been sent to take inventory of his store to make sure he did not have any sensitive information pertaining to records that should only be accessible in the central archives of the city. The information that he had relating to any sensitive or archive only info were confiscated and Hans was fined 10 Zios, not a large fin at all due to the information was not secret or anything yet it was just not supposed be in his possession.

As well, the information retaining to the info that had been given to the ancient roots of the Valgardians was hidden so only three people in the entire city knew where that was and these people would be impossible to find due to them not being on any records and no one knew who these common people were in the city of 100,000 plus thousand persons.

War-Prince Daitherion Dientari sat on his giant Zjiugiasi warhorse, his twin halberds (http://b.1asphost.com/dws1/Pang%20De.jpg) held at his sides. Behind him was an entire battalion of viath soldiers, 1,000 strong. Diatherion lifted his helmet and strached his forehead. It was really hot underneath all this armor. At times like this, he wished he traveled more like Prince Zayethein did, with little to no armor and fewer troops. Daitherion shrugged. His unit could probably survive more than Zayethein's could if it came to a direct battle.

His adjutant, Captain Aureli San'sung, rode up next to him. He bowed his head as Daitherion said, "Report."

"Sir, our scouts report four groups of goblin insurgents moving towards Serenai." Serenai was a small village a few miles from Garadihar.

"I see. Numbers?"

"Around 100 all told, sir."

"Understood. Raltiar! Neriall! Follow me!"

The two cavalry captains and their platoons followed the Prince of Analiae, ready to save the small village from certain destruction.

From the northeast came a group of forty Valgardian Rangers jogging at a relatively high speeds and came over a nearby ridge and then halted. A number of the men then went and sat down on a few of the rocks and the rest drank some water. The commander of the group and his second in command had been tracking the goblins after they had been spotted near a village in the Valgardian Empire.

Taken notice that all them were died and that the kills were fresh, while still at a distance, went down with his second in command and four of his Rangers. Descending below he saw a number of the creatures that had been most likely responsible for their deaths. Knowing that they were most probably already knew that they were there said in a powerful enough voice for them to be able to hear them well enough said,” Greetings, I see that you have properly disposed of these vile creatures. We had been tracking them for a the last couple of days after they came close to raiding one of our towns and killed a number of our people. I and my men are quite tired after hunting these creatures and we desire to seek sanctuary in your lands long enough for us recover and then we shall return to our lands. Will you grant us this?”

The tall viath emerged from the woods, swords in his sheaths but ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Noticing the style of their armor and their physical appearances, Zayeth knew where they were from. "We have no quarrel with Valgard. The village of Hijakai is less than four miles away from here, and I recommend the Raucous Elephant tavern. May I inquire your name and business here?"

Nehind him, four rangers skulked, completely concealed, longbows drawn, just in case.

The tall viath emerged from the woods, swords in his sheaths but ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Noticing the style of their armor and their physical appearances, Zayeth knew where they were from. "We have no quarrel with Valgard. The village of Hijakai is less than four miles away from here, and I recommend the Raucous Elephant tavern. May I inquire your name and business here?"

Nehind him, four rangers skulked, completely concealed, longbows drawn, just in case.The commander of the group heard saw a little dust trend and smirked a bit. Then after regaining his more serious face he said,” My name Eigard, of the house Erida, and my business here is that I was sent by my superiors to hunt down the goblins you just killed and to destroy whatever group of these creatures were see wandering around that are armed. As we currently are engaged with a long and bloody war in the mountain frontiers with these beasts. As for the time being we shall follow your instructions towards the village you said of and we shall pay with silver for accommodations there. We thank you and in turn we offer you our help if you need any.”

"Very well," Zayeth nodded. "I'm sure the people of Hijakai will appreciate your business." He offered a paw for Eigard to shake.

"Very well," Zayeth nodded. "I'm sure the people of Hijakai will appreciate your business." He offered a paw for Eigard to shake.Lifting his hand covered with the leather armor and shook Zayeth’s hand and then said,” Thank you for allowing us into your lands and not it is time for us to be off.”

Raising his hand above his he signaled his men to move. Within a minute they were up to their commander jogging towards the nearby village to take shelter for a period of time.

One of the rangers emerged out of the woods to stand next to Zayeth. "Was that a good idea, sir?"

Zayeth smirked. "Ianlamin's brigade is less than a mile away from Hijakai. If they try anything, they'll be there."

One of the rangers emerged out of the woods to stand next to Zayeth. "Was that a good idea, sir?"

Zayeth smirked. "Ianlamin's brigade is less than a mile away from Hijakai. If they try anything, they'll be there."The Valgardian Ranger group continued on the main cautious of any movement though they would not do any funny business. After ten minutes the men reorganized themselves and walked in standard formation and remained in line. Along the way they had killed a few goblins that were stranglers of the group that had just been killed.

Ianlamin Iltierne's spear flashed in the setting sunlight, diving into the chest of the misfortunate goblin. Blood splattered onto the viath's armor as he withdrew the spear, smashing its adamantine-coated butt into the goblin behind him. The creature fell back, its face smashed beyond repair, but then the spearblade whirled upwards, slicing through the goblin's leather armor, cutting into its chest and making its way to its throat. After that goblin fell, gasping for air through its severed windpipe, Ianlamin spun the heavy spear in a reverse grip, taking aim breifly and hurling it. It connected cleanly with the goblin twelve paces away, sending it flying backwards a further two paces.

Then the fight was over, the goblins fleeing back for the mountains. The dragonkin aerial fighters took to the skies, sweeping low and cutting them down.

More black blood spurted onto Ianlamin's fine adamantine armor as he yanked his heavy spear out. He wiped the blade off on the goblin's trousers as his Darastrix Caex, his second-in-command approached. The dragonkin bowed his head, his claymore sheathed across his back. "They're all dead, sir."

"Good," Ianlamin nodded, his rich cape swirling in the breeze. "We'll continue towards Hijakai. Move out!"

The battalion of 1,000 viath and dragonkin soldiers followed him north, eager for good food and drink at the Raucous Elephant.

After three quarters of an hour of marching to the village of Hijakai they maintained their formation, though they were far more calm and casual now, and with that they came to the local inn and the commander and two of his men went in and said,” We request lodging for forty persons here. We are willing to pay in solid silver bars. So then can we make a deal?”

The owner of the inn, a crusty viath of some 400 years, made his way to the main counter. "We only have fifteen rooms here, so you'll have to share. Three bars and we'll feed you, too."

The owner of the inn, a crusty viath of some 400 years, made his way to the main counter. "We only have fifteen rooms here, so you'll have to share. Three bars and we'll feed you, too."The commander responded," Alright then, that shall work out fine then and I thank you. As well, I shall tell you that you need not supply drinks for us, only food, as we brought our own."

"All right," the innkeeper nodded, taking the three silver bars.

***

The food was simple, yet tasty. Fried noodles with scallions and beef were set on the long tables in the common room, and next to each plate was a pair of chopsticks. The innkeep hoped the Valgardians knew how to use them, for he had no other utensils.

***

Ianlamin Itierne rode into town half an hour later. His soldiers immediately scattered into the various bars and taverns, eager to sleep in real beds for the first time in days. Ianlamin and Darastrix, however, made for the Raucous Elephant, anticipating a comfortable bed and good food.

The Rangers saw a number of the people around them eating with chopsticks and quickly learned how to use the eating utensils, though they had brought with them knives and forks, they felt it would be proper to eat like the locals. As well, they finished their meals and then went to their rooms where they sat for a while in thought and then they went to sleep.

"Two rooms, please," Ianlamin said, placing a few crowns on the desk.

"I'm sorry, m'Lord," the innkeeper said, pushing away the coins and shrugging. "A bunch of human soldiers took all the rooms. You'll have to find somewhere else."

"Humans?" Darastrix murmured. Ianlamin inquired further to the innkeeper: "Where from?"

"Valgard, methinks," the old viath replied as he picked up a few dishes. "Blond hair and pink skin, every one of them." He giggled. "Can you imagine only having hair on your head? Not even any on your–"

"Thank you," Ianlamin cut him off sternly, making his way towards the door. "Darastrix, round up the troops and set up a perimeter around the village. I don't want the Valgardians to leave without my knowledge."

The dragonkin bowed. "Yes, sir."

In the tavern the Valgardian commander and about five of his subordinates were discussing about the company in the distinctive Valgardian tongue, which was very hard for non-Valgardians to even understand a word of it due to the secretive use of it so others may not learn their language, and the rest of the Valgardians had retired for the night to their chambers so as to ‘meditate’ and soon fall asleep for the night.

So at about one in the morning the Valgardian commanders and the other remaining retired for the night.

In the western mountains an army of twenty legions now assembled to began to hunt down all Kobolds in an effort to kill all resistance fighters in that region of the Empire. As well, they now had begun to introduce goblin population into the cave systems of the mountains in an effort to have them overwhelm the enemy.