NationStates Jolt Archive

Inside his bedchambers, one of the instructors at the Capida Academy of the High Art of Magic meditated in front of a water bowl. It was a rather basic divination practice, but due to his mother being an elf the blend of elemental magic into the divination seemed to make it come more naturally. He opened his eyes, and Instructor Gavin Yalei met the gaze of his own emerald eyes in the reflection of the pool. It was a basic excercise he always followed to divine for major magic events in the world. It usually never got results, but Gavin nearly broke concentration when a ripple, both physical and mystic, turned the face in the water into a helmet with eyes of red witchfire. Breathing deep, Gavin addressed the armored figure, asking about it as such divinations allowed. "Who are you?"

The voice of the armored figure- no, the armor itself, was both gruff and unearthly, the witchfire eyes flaring as he spoke. "I am power."

Gavin sighed, dreading where this was going. "What do you want?"

"To serve my demon lord, who's name I will not speak to the likes of you."

Perfect, demonic meddling. The next best thing to divine intervention as for as Procan 'theologians' were concerned, Gavin included. "What can you see?"

"Ice... and YOU!" Suddenly energy started reaching up through the divining pool. Gavin struggled to sever the connection before the energy could reach him, but couldn't get it sealed without a caress of the energy leaving a gash above his left eye. Ripping his sleeve to cover the wound, he made his way to the chambers of the High Academician.

Gavin had begun his divinations shortly after classes had ended, so his bloody hustle through the halls drew a fair bit of attention. So much so, that a column of water started rushing through the hall in front of him, stopping short of impact, collecting and solidifying into the form of the High Academician Doban Telchersen. The older man pulled a bandage out of his robe, offering it to Gavin. "You know better than to cause a stir unless it needs causing, Instructor. What did you see?"

"A rising warlord with a demonic patron... I believe in the Icy Wastes. The warlord was in my range, though, so the shamans of the West's natives would take notice as well."

"And inspiration... Oh, the Governors are going to love this. Feel free to take tomorrow off, Gavin, and put an end to your divinations until we get word that the savages are lamenting the loss of an icon."

OOC: I figured that if a demonic warlord is on the rise in Eldire, all the evil and savage mortals would take notice. In the case of those threatening the holdings of the Procan Confederacy, though, it's an excuse for imperialism. Although connected to the Age of Reckoning thread, this is for those two far removed from the demonic army itself but still want to take notice.

Near the North Isle Colony

The lookout in the coastal observation tower of the West Shore Safehold squinted, not sure she could believe what she was seeing. The local savages had always been easily bribed off with surplus leather and iron. Yet, there they were, pushing skiffs out on the opposite coast. They numbered a couple dozen, ranging from darker than a Chiss to almost as pale as an elf. Grabbing the thick rope above her, the militia began ringing the signal bell, alerting the entire Safehold as to be at general alert. She grabbed her spear, using her free hand to point it toward the skiffs so that those looking up at the tower would know where to look for the cause for alarm.

There was an initial panic. If the natives were assembling, something had gone wrong, and the peace that even the elves in the base were born into would be coming to an end. However, the trained infantry quickly pulled the militia together, herding units into the three longboats docked in the base. With longbowmen and most of the militia remaining in the base, the ships headed out to meet the amassing natives.

Along the Gated River

Outside a certain colony that wasn't officially recognized by the Procan Alliance, tribal humans assembled in camps on both sides of the river just outside the colony. A courier was sent to meet with them, but the young man's head was sent upriver in a wicker basket. The Governor of the colony conferred with the real power, the Official Advisor, and they both agreed: Violence befitting their reputation was in order. Each shore soon had two Halberdier Regiments and a Longbowman line marching along it, while a pair of the colony's modified tradeships went up the water, ballistas aimed at the shore in both directions.

Outside the Eastern Colonies

The outlying villages of the Far East and Eastern Delta colonies were hit the worst, with open skirmishes between orcs and militia. At first they caught the villages off guard, charging and screaming like maniacs who had, until now, settled for fighting among themselves. However, orcs were slow in mind and body and unable to respond as their mobs were pelted by steel bodkin arrows from the militia. Halberdiers held the line against the brutes, struggling to get the most out of the reach their weapons offered to minimize the casualties they had already suffered.

Once the initial skirmishes had ended, runners were sent toward the coast to the primary colony, which soon began assembling and dispatching mages to help with repairs, under escort from the longbowmen that normally defended the central colony exclusively. The Governors had finished convening via Communion Mirror at this point, and they had all agreed: The Procan Alliance would be taking the offensive in dealing with this uprising.

OOC: To clarify, this is Open to all who have been approved for the Eldire world.

The ripples of the presence of evil reaches the Black Sea. On the scout ship, Eight Point, the Captain of the Eight Point, Robin Locken, awoke from his sleep due to the shouts of the night watch.

“Ship on fire in the distance.”

The newly appointed Hospitaller Locken, puts on his uniform and helmet. He races up his stairs to see what the matter is. Locken meets his first mate, Igloo, as he leaves his captain’s bed chamber.

“Sir Knight, the night watch has spot a ship on fire due east of our position.”

“Can he tell there colors?”

“Aye, the sails have a black eight pointed cross.”

Thinking to himself that this can finally prove to his father, High Councilman Roland Locken, that he deserves to be a Hospitaller at such a young age.

“Hospitlar colors, and not just any colors, Hospitaller ones…First mate change course east and we shell investigate the ship…hopefully there will be survivors.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”


The Eight Point reaches the now burnt black ship. Captain Locken orders a gang plank to be attaching to the black ship.

“I and First Mate Igloo will investigate the ship. Sergeant, I leave you in charge.”

The two men cross the gang plank and carefully step onto the black ship.

“Careful Igloo.” Locken says as he draws out his broad sword. “I sense an evil presence on board.”

They search top and bottom of the ship and not even finding a body. They finally search the captains cabin. Locken notice a lump in the bed. He mindfully walks towards the bed and throws off the cover. The head of the captain stares at Locken. Igloo speaks up.

“Sir Knight, isn’t that the captain of the ship who was suppose to negotiate a new treaty with the Orc Confederacy.”

“Aye it is but I do not think they made it to the negotiating table.”

“Ummm, do you think that this is the Orc’s work?”

“I don’t believe so.” He picks up the head and examines the cut. “You see Igloo, this cut was not have Orc weaponry, it looks more of mans doing.”

“Oh, I knew that.”

“Right.”

All of a sudden a pain surges through Locken, from were his hand is holding the head up to his head. The pain is cold and dark. Locken falls on the floor.

“Sir Knight are you ok.”

“Yes…yes, but I feel that trouble will be afoot.”

“Then we should go tell the Blessed King and All-Saint.”

“NO! The Blessed King and the High Counsel will just go blame the Orcs and declare war on the southern tribes. Which the people who have done this massacre clearly wants us to believe. And if we tell the All-Saint, he’ll just cause the populace to panic so no we won’t tell them for now. And you won’t tell the crew what we have found. But when we get back to the ship change course to the Sun Island.”

“Yes sir, but why?”

“I need to ask a question to the priestess of the temple of Pallas before I tell anyone anything. There are questions that must be answered.

Near the North Isle Colony

The longboats came about, their flanks facing the skiffs as the ships slid into the shallows. From the central longboat, the second-in-command of the Safehold called out to the natives. "Tribes of the West! Your gathering here is in violation of our longstanding agreement! Disperse now, or we will be forced to assume that-"

"The pact is broken! The powers of old have risen, and the might of the tribes are great! Your puny islands will burn, and-" The ranting chieftain, clad in furs and wielding a greatsword, soon found himself with a ballista bolt penetrating his chest. A hail of arrows soon followed, ballista bolts firing from the other longboats to destroy the nearest skiffs. Some of the tribes beat a quick retreat, but some surged onward.

Along the Gated River

The two trade ships arrived ahead of the regiments on the march, each captain calling out to the tribes on their respective coasts, receiving similiar results as the attempt to negociate further north, with a few thrown spears from the camps to accent the point. Restraining themselves, the normally gutshot-style captains awaited the arrival of the regiments.

Outside the Eastern Colonies

The orcs of the West were fairly predictably as far as the colonists were concerned. The colonial force gather halfway between the Far East and East Delta and a way inland, at the base of some arid steppes. At the rear of the formation, with halberdiers and longbowmen toward the front ahead of bow wielding militia, were a large set of drums, which the two colonial mages began beating with their staves. The deep bass of the drum resonated across the steppes, signally to the orcs that a war host had assembled to fight them.

Somewhere in the desert west of the Ssek Empire...

He wandered without hope, infuriated by the prisons of his own mind, tormented by the sun, the wind, the sand and the thirst.

Blindness up ahead. Murky waters behind. Nothing is quite real out in the wastes.

It'd been years. Driven onward, this way and that, by forces greater than himself. Ksaas was rather tired. He was almost 140 years old, but felt older. He ached with movement, and ached without.

The brightness dimmed. Clothed in rags, the old Ssek shambled forward and saw that he was chasing the sun. He stopped atop a slight rise in the desolate plain and stared ahead into the west. He was not awed or inspired with nostalgia by the beauty - when there are no colors, sunsets lose most of their charm - but by a powerful sensation within.

The sensation of knowledge.

Knowledge that something lurked ahead, leagues onward, but close - all too close. Anger. Darkness. Madness. Beings alien and familiar, forces greater and unknown. Armies. Yes, armies. There was chaos and death.

He walked onward... toward the grayish white of the sun as it blazed out on the horizon.

ooc: Fear the Dwarf Iron Clad!
http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/systems/ship/images/mississippi-h48145.jpg its generally a normal sailing ship with sails and all, except from the water line up it has been clad in iron/othermetals to defend itself also powered by large wooden screws underwater(via pedling and weight assisted)

IC:

Near the north isle colony, and close to where the navel engagement is taking place

A Stout and rather heavily clad Dwarf gazed forward from the bow of the ship, grabbing hold of a rope and swinging down with a thoud Thunk onto the iron deck of the DMN Illustrious he twined his beard and called for his aid.

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarim!!!" He yelled across the ship, his short and stocky frame holding a powerful voice "Where are you your lazy twit!" he grumbled as a door on the deck slowly sqeeked open.

"Im here oh great Valdin, what does thy require?" Said Fariim as he exited the door, unlike Valdin he wasnt clad head to toe in armour that reeked of power and strenght, but merely a light garab of leather.

"Dont try and sway me with your words, you deviltounge, now tell me where are we and how close are we to the damm isles already, I want to finish this damm mission and head home!" Valdin exclaimed, ending with a few choice words that would make sailors blush.

"We are right there" Fariim said matter of factly
"How can you tell, you didnt look at the map or is the great and powerful Fariim that good?" He said mockingly
"No, I can see there ships there and thats an Island" and with a huff he turned and walked back into his cabin.

The Dwarfen Iron Clad continued to sail towards the island, and the engoing navel fight via sail power but as he spoke the twin propellers were being ready the weights setup and the peddlers seated.

OOC: The Sun Island is the island west of Hospitlar, in the Black sea.

IC:
The Eight Point makes dock. Locken, wearing his Eight Point Tunic uniform because no weapons or armor may be worn on the Sun Island, walks the gang plank down to the dock. He is greeted by a Pallas Monk.

“Sorry Sir, no one may enter the Island of Pallas during the holy week of Python. You must leave.”

Locken taps his finger on his chest, pointing to the black eight pointed cross.

“Oh, I’m sorry Sir Knight, did not know you were a Hospitaller. You look too young to be one.”

“Yes, I know Monk, I hear it a lot.”

“Still, not even the holy Knights may set foot on the island during this time.”

Locken than puts his hand inside his tunic and pulls out a bag of gold. He tosses the bag at the monk's feet.

“Will this be enough Monk?”

The Monk bends down and picks up the bag.

“Oh yes Sir Knight, what do you need of the Monks of Pallas.”

“Don’t need anything from you; I came to the island to seek the aid of the Virgin Priestess.”

“Well…” The Monk says as he rubs his chin. “That will be extra.

Locken again takes out a bag of gold and gives it to the Monk. The Monk looks in side and smiles.

“Follow me Sir Knight.”

Locken follows the Monk past the monasteries and statues of Pallas. They finally reach Pallas Temple. The temple, pale white with columns that seem to reach the heavens. As the two men walk inside, Locken notices the bright and colorful mosaics that adorn the temple.

“Wait here Sir Knight, as a fetch the Priestess of Pallas.”

A few seconds later the Monk returns with a girl.

“Now Sir Knight you have one question to ask Pallas.”

“I felt a dark presence a day ago, I’ just wondering what that means.”

The girl begins to go into convulsions and speaking in strange tongues.

“The Priestess says that the King Demon has awoken from his long sleep. That he will bring blood over these lands. That people will scream in fear and pain. Darkness and cold will once again reign supreme.”

“I have another question…”

“Sorry Sir Knight only one question may be asked, now please leave before you taint the island anymore.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Back Back on the ship Igloo asks Locken what the Priestess said.

“Igloo she said what my worst thoughts were. We must head back to Hospitlar and warn them of the evil that awaits us.”

“Sir Knight we do not have enough supplies to make it back to Hospitlar. We must restock.”

“Fine, where is the closes place to resupply.”

“A Fishing village, not far from here.”

“Good, make course to the village.”

“Aye Aye sir.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
At the fishing village, far off in the distance, poorly crafted ships, with dragon heads at the tip, slowly make their way to the village.

West of the North Isle Colony

The ballistas made quick work of what skiffs they hit, but were slow enough to fire that one or two were able to get to each of the longboats. As the first wave of boarders came aboard each boat, they were greeted with the same sight: Hatchet men and halberdiers laying low on the deck to give the lines of militia clear shots, which were quickly taken. One volley, two, and soon the second wave was coming with the survivors with their shields at the ready.

The frontliners rose to the occasion, hatchet men crouching behind kite shields while halberdiers held the rear. The savages charged into an array of spikes and arcing blades, and were soon routed with only a few of the hatchet men having fallen. The captains, who had all been inevitably been singled out by their equal in rank among the tribes, all ordered their men to stand down.

North of the North Isle Colony

From the North Shore Safehold, a similiar process as its western counterpart had undergone was quickly underway, responding to the arrival of the dwarves. A single longboat was dispatched with far less panic, headed by the commander of the base himself, a colonial mage by the name of Mory Khett. Eyeing the ironclad appraisingly, Mory wondered what the dwarves were doing approaching the North Isle.

Along the Gated River

There is something to be said for the ballistas of the Inland Colony. Where traditional ballista take after a heavy crossbow for raw power, the colonists favored the rapid fire of modelling after a repeater crossbow. It didn't have the penetration power of the normal crossbow, but it allowed the corsairs to tear up the sails of their target firing forward without losing as much momentum to kickback.

When the regiments arrived, the ships received a signal to attack in the form of burning arrows, brightly lit in the early evening. Howls of pain and panic came from the camps, which were amplified by similiar salvos from the militia crewing the corsairs and the repeated ballista fire. A fireball shot out from the camp at one of the ships, but a column of water sprouted up to meet it as the mage-captain made his presence apparent, and followed up with a whistling wind to single out the enemy shaman for the ballista to single out.

When the tribes finally charged, they each went differently. On one bank of the river, which had just lost its shaman, their forces divided into three groups: One retreating inland, one trying to wade toward the corsair assailing them, and one charging the halberdier line. What few survived to reach their marks were either torn apart under a hail of arrows or upon a wall of halberd spikes.

The tribe that still had a leader, a half-ogre chieftain head and shoulders above his tribe, directed the charge toward the regiments. Ballista fire tore into the ranks as the crew tried to take down the chieftain, and archers from both formation and ship pelted the savages with arrows. As the chieftain closed the gap ahead of his tribe, he got a swing in with his stonehead club that sent seven halberds and three halberdiers flying. However, he soon had to face the fact that being taller than the halberdiers meant being an easy shot for the longbowmen behind them, and was sent back reeling in bloody just in time to demoralize the charging clans.

After shifting into a pincer formation to secure those among them that had been disarmed, the halberdiers were able to make short work of the savages, bodkin arrows following the retreating survivors inland with howls of pain and panic trailing off. The causalties were worse than expected thanks to that half-ogre mucking things up, but considering they had started out outnumbered the mage-captains both agreed that it could have been worse.

Outside the Eastern Colonies

On each side of the battlefield, war hosts were assembled. To the north were the the Procans, who had six regiments of halberdiers assembled in a line formation. Behind the four inward formations were thin lines of longbowmen, two regiments behind two, standing ready to unleash steel-tipped hell on their foes. On the outside flanks and on the rearguard, militia were assembled, nervous but confident. The cause for their confidence being, natural, the pair of mages beating the drum at the rear.

To the south, scattered among the steps, a different host had assembled. Green skinned and apelike, the orcs of the Unknown West raised their bludgeons and axes menacingly as they hooted and hollered warcries in their bastard tongue. They almost outnumbered the Procans in heads, but as far as muscle and discipline in combat were concerned, the Procans were outmatched.

In an effort to remedy the situation, the mages ordered the militia to coordinate their shots with the longbowmen, and to fire on the signal. After appraising the steppes for the highest concentrations of green flesh, the mages cast four flares into the greenskin ranks, bright flashes of light accompanied by a burst of sound, singalling the archers as to wear to fire. The Battle of the Eastern Steppes had begun.

A messenger from Ssonak, King of Ssan, bearing the official colors of the Fireclaw clan, gave the mercenary Warrior his new job.

Ssloi wasn't exactly the best mercenary in the Empire, or even the City. He wondered why he was being hired in the first place - the kings, like all the nobles, could send Ranked Warriors from their retinue, from the Army, from wherever they pleased. Why the added expense Ssloi and other mercenaries like him demanded?

He didn't know, and didn't particularly care. The job paid, and coming as it did under 'imperial service' to none other than the King of Ssan, would bring honor to the Onefang clan.

He was met by five other mercenaries at the gates of the City. They greeted each other in the manner of Warriors, gathered themselves and left West along the desert coastal road. Soon, however, they veered South, into the wilds where only the Slavers went.

Warrior-For-Hire,

You shall go into the unknown lands of the west, to investigate the source of anomalous behaviors reported by Slavers amongst the primitives, and report back on the validity of these claims. For this task you shall receive the generous sum of two hundred Imperial Coins, and the opportunity for further employment.

Signed, the King. The King of Ssan. Goodness gracious.

He had his letter stowed away in his supply pack, not as a trophy but as evidence of contract. It was habit - employers sometimes liked to cheat Mercenaries of their due. Such employers usually met a bad end. Of course, the king was a rather more honorable client than most - but habits died hard, for Warriors as much as anyone.

And besides, just because he was a king didn't make him trustworthy.

The Dwarven turtle ship slowed down as it neared the long boat, trying not to do anything hostile a Dwarf clambered onto the deckand yelled.
"We come in peace! we have come to speak with your leaders on our trip around this area, please are we allowed to pass?" he said, speaking human, not dwarf.(whee for Dwarfish Language!)

Locken is in his cabin, scribbling down on paper.

“By the Staff of John, I can’t make this speech work.” He sighs as he crumples up the paper and throws it in the pile of other crumpled up papers.

“I can’t go to the High Counsel ill prepared, its has to be right.”

A knock is at his door.

“Come in.” Locken says in a trouble tone.

Igloo walks in and sees the pile of papers and Locken with his hands on his head.

“Well what is it First Mate?” Locken says irritably

“Well Sir Knight…captain…”

“Yes, spit it out Igloo.”

“We’ve reached our distination.”

“Then go get supplies.”

“Well, that will be a problem, the look-out spotted two ghastly looking ships.”

“And how is that a problem.”

“Well their Orc ships, sir.”

“That’s just prime…they should just be an annoyance, pay no mind to them while in town Igloo.”

“Uh…Sir they have put the village on fire, and are slaughtering the villagers…right now they’re doing it.”

Locken quickly rises from his desk and pounds his fist on the table.

“Jungalunga…get the men ready for battle.”

“But Sir knight, we will be no match to them. We should just leave.”

Locken grabs Igloo by the shoulders, and makes a crude face at him

“Igloo you disgust me. As a Hospitaller I have a code to not turn away from danger and my people.” He walks over to his closet and takes out his armor.

“So get the small boats and men ready and do not question my orders First Mate.”

“Aye Sir, I’ll get on it.”

Once Igloo left the room, Locken takes out is long broad sword. He rubes the blade with his finger, whispering to himself. “Now is my time to prove those old buffoons in the High Counsel and my Father wrong. Though I lead my men into a slaughter, I will rise a hero, a new champion of the people.”

North of the North Isle Colony

The mage-captain of the longboat stood at the head of her ship, using wind magic to amplify her voice as she spoke clearly to the dwarves in their native tongue. She had a slight accent, but only an exceptionally surly or drunk dwarf would be unimpressed by her grasp of the language for a human. "You're allowed, but for a ship so equipped for combat there is a small fee of passage that I am tasked to collect in exchange for your passage papers."

Battle of the Eastern Steppes

To each of the four flares, a formation of longbowmen and militia trained their bows. The flares remained for a few seconds then burst out in bright flashes that would have dazzled the orcs standing beneath them. Arrows flew when the flares faded, and seconds later the stunned orcs found themselves under a rain of steel tips and brown feathers.

The mages cast four new flares, but the orcs didn't wait this time. The horde charged off the steps, and the flares followed the new clusters with ease. When the flares burst away, arrows flew once more. Only the longbowmen were able to compensate for the horde's momentum, but in one case this proved favorable as a cluster had stopped when their flare burst, causing a sort of pileup before bodkin arrows came down to loosen up the formation.

By now, the militia regiments on the flanks were switching to their melee weapons, round steel shields and shortspears a little over a meter in length. Longbowmen sent their arrows up in high arcing shots along with the rear pair of militia formations, and the mages used their wind magic to guide their arrows beyond the halberdier's ranks to come down on the orcs just before the charge hit the line.

The result was a majority of the orcs that would have lead the charge being dropped by repeated arrow penetrations, allowing the halberdiers to focus their weapons on joint attacks against the physically superior foe to bring them down with their own superior reach. As the fourth volley fell, it looked as though the line would hold.

Then, the arrows began falling further into the orcish line, a safe distance from the infantry of the Confederacy. Soldiers began falling on both sides as orcs got the opportunity to bring their race's mettle to bear. The mages had flown over to the flanks, where orcs were beginning to move in on the militia, to strengthen morale and weaken the orcs with their magic. One mage chose a simple method of a series of weaker versions of the flare spell in rapid succession.

The other mage was more creative. She reached out with her mind, beyond the steppes and into the earth, with a spell that normally doesn't get used in combat. She soon found her mark with a small lake at the top of the steppes, no doubt surrounded by the orc tents. A column of water shot up from the top of the steps, shaping to resemble a fist before crashing into the orcs besetting the militia. From the water rose a humanoid figure with an obscured lower body, which grabbed the toughest looking orcs and swallowed them whole, letting them drown within its body. The water elemental let out a gurgling roar, and the militia cheered in turn.

After five more volleys, the last of the orcs began fleeing back into the steppes, and the mage who had used the flares organized the surviving Procans to tend to the wounded. The mage commanding the water elemental, on the other hand, gaze the orcs within it the breathing room neccesary to be interrogated as to what caused the orcs to attack, finding that an orc warlord was on the rise who planned to "kill 'is way to dat redeyed feller so 'e could kill 'im an' get 'is mob."

Every man bored the long boats. As they row Locken mumbles an enchantment that made his armor glow with white. A powerful enchantment, that only a few know that is the reason why Locken was promoted to Hospitaller so quickly because he knew many powerful enchantments. The white glow makes it harder for Orcs to attack because it radiates the light of Pallas.
They make it onto shore, the Orcs are too busy raping and killing the villagers to notice the landing. Right away the sailors and Locken attack the Orcs. Locken killed many Orcs but many of his man to die at the hands of the Orcs. The battle lasts an hour, which feels like forever but finally the Orcs were beaten back.

All but Igloo and Locken died in the battle, they did not even save the villagers. They are all wipe out by the Orc attack. Igloo escape the carnage with a few bumps and bruises but Locken’s right eye was cut out during the battle. He tars of a strip of his tunic and ties it around his damage eye.

“Igloo we will bury the people.” He sighs sadly. “Then we will walk to Hospitlar to tell them of this attack.”

“Aye Sir Knight.”

Talking to himself, while Igloo starts to bury the dead, “Some hero I turned out…but I swear I will kill the dirty Orcs who murdered my people.”

Upon an Isle Beyond Alliance Shores

The demon cultist snarled as he cast the bones once more. This demon wasn't the archdemon of destruction itself, but it was more powerful than any that had risen in millenia. As far as this disciple of the Grand Manipulator was concerned, that was just as bad. He collected the bones, chanted, and cast them again. The champion himself would be thwarted in time, with minimal intervention of the Procan Confederacy.

Then, the natural well in the cavern murmured with magic. After a nod from the oily imp squating near the hole, the cultist stood up, pulling the hood of his black robe up to shroud his face before looming over the pool, which featured the weary face of Doban Telchersen. "The Governors have reached a verdict, then, Academician?"

"They have, Schemer. They're going to press south, try to establish the first major Western Province." Doban wiped off his brow, a single drop of sweat landing on the lense of his Communion Mirror, which he was using to contact the signifigantly older man. "Although I had advised against it, as you suggested. I don't know why, though."

"It will be easier to explain why you divined the actions of other lands, revealing how the Ssek were having trouble with their slaves, and that one of the 'nobler' nations recently lost a village to orcs." The cultist's mouth, the only visible element of his appearance, smiled to reveal enlarged and filed canines. "The Governors will inform the Hospitlars as to the location of the orc lord responsible for their village's destruction, and the Ssek may be hired as mercenaries on the cheap by giving them slaving rights."

"...Did you plan all this?"

The imp cackled feverishly at first, but a slow, firm gesture from the cultist silenced the minor demon. "I admit, I am improvising. My master could not see the actions of others who serve demons, so this upheaval could not be foreseen, nor the reactions of other beings to this. Contact me after you've cast the divinations specified and convened with the Governors with 'your' council."

Doban nodded, and his image faded from the pool. The cultist looked at his fiendish familiar, pulling back his hood to reveal minute horns on his forehead and golden slitted eyes. "Now, let's see what the dwarves are up to, shall we?"

After Locken and Igloo buried the dead, they start to walk on the Black Sea Road, which connects the black sea ports and villages to Hospitlar. After walking down the road for a couples miles a cart passes them by. The driver of the cart pulls over and asks our weary travelers, in Romeek, if they want a ride. Igloo was born in Rumulus so he understands what the driver was saying and tells Locken, who was born in Picland and Picland speaks Gallic, to get in the cart.

Locken asks the driver “Do you speak Gallic or Hospit.” Hospit is a combination of the two languages.

The driver shakes his head. So Locken tells Igloo, “Tell the driver to take us to Hospitlar, it is very urgent.” Igloo turns to the driver and asks, in Romeek, if the driver can take them to the capital.

“The driver says yes, he is heading that way anyways to sell goods at the market…and he also says that we look like hell.”

“Tell him that’s an understatement.”

Igloo tells the driver and the driver laughs and replies back to Igloo.

“Well Igloo what did he say?”

“He says he never mingled with a Hospitaller before and especially one so young looking.”

Locken crosses his arms and pouts about how everyone says hes too young or young looking to be a Knight of Prometheus the whole tripe to the capital.

Ambush. Ssloi first suspected when there was a shift in the reeds across a small creek. Immediately, one of his fellow mercenaries took an arrow in the neck.

"Attack!" someone said, too late. He glanced to make sure he was not alone, and bolted into the underbrush wielding scimitars. It was very hard to surprise the Ssek like this. The primitive inhabitants of this region weren't the sort, usually, to be able to pull it off.

But he got over being startled. He kept his head down and kept on moving. Quickly, but not panicked, the two of them split when the enemy was spotted. Just one human bowman, then, unless there were others who'd not fired yet. He had time to see the bowman register what was about to happen to him. Then Ssloi's scimitars flashed in the dawn sunlight, and the man collapsed with a spurting of blood.

Then moving to the next. This one a group, clubs and wooden shields. Too many at once - he moved to the left, and happily encountered his fellow mercenary. But by now he wasn't sure where the remaining two were.

Oh well. The two Ssek mercenaries allowed the enraged, barbarian humans charge them. Their arms brought down bludgeons in crushing blows. But Ssloi was quicker and sliced through one's arm, then across the chest. Then he dashed behind and through them, whirled, and caught another. The scent of blood filled his nostrils.

He saw in the corner of his vision, a Ssek spear thrust forward, skewer a barbarian, lift him up, pushing him back.

Then he felt the force of a club slam against his upper right shoulder. The pain was felt beneath the padding and leather, and he shut it off for now. He went forward and turned, just in time to dodge a nasty downwards blow aimed at his head. Was this one a female? He couldn't be sure before he'd opened up the barbarian warrior's abdomen in two cuts.

There were no more in immediate range. Looking about, the blood lust still coursing through his veins, Ssloi found his compatriot with the spear, laying dead with a bludgeoned face.

"Caught," he called. There was no reply, no sound of battle. The others must have died too. There must be one more barbarian at least -

He whirled just in time. The filthy warmblood human stood with an iron mace drenched in Ssek blood, his round eyes wide open in a look of stupid surprise. Then the weapon dropped, and the man raised both hands, and spoke - amazingly enough, in Ssek.

"I surrender!" the man said.

Ssloi's eyes narrowed. He had half a mind to slaughter the man. But there were too many mysteries here, and he'd come to solve them. He may as well bring something back to show for his troubles...

"Lie on your chest, warmblood," Ssloi commanded. "Wait - no. Search in that warrior's pack for a rope."

The man did as he said, and hauled a lengthy, thick rope out. Ssloi proceeded to firmly tie up the prisoner, trussing him up so that he couldn't escape too easily, but could walk, and wouldn't die too easily either.

"As long as you don't try to escape," Ssloi said. "You live."

The man nodded, fear apparent.

"Now march."

It would be a long way back to the City.

The Dwarven Armoured craft drew closer to the longboat, the various ship borne arnaments pointed away from the longboat and downwards, as a sign of no agression, similarly the Dwarves had most of there weapons slung on there backs a Double bladed axe here, a Broadsword there the odd rapier and Scimitar.

The two boats where not not more then a couple meters away
"If it is a fee you want, then a fee it is, your reasoning sounds based and just so we will pay, how much is it that you require?" Came the Dwarf reply back, in dwarf tounge with mild interedt quite chatterings were going across the deck, this one knew the Dwarf tounge, some wondered how a human came to learn it.
"rest assured, this is naught but a peaceful mission to your lands"

Southern Chiss

Captain Barey Enderssin glanced over his shoulder to observe the fleet of a half-dozen longboats and a pair of trade ships departing from the shores of their home island. All of the ships had the minimal contingent of crew, but also carried a full cargo of soldiers on board. Four of the ships had a mix of militia and hatchet men, but the rearmost ship had outriders and their mounts on board, whereas Barey's own ship had halberd wielding cavalry chargers on board. The trade ships had supplies on board for the trip, primarily for the horses, along with some room aside for leathers to bribe away the neighbors of the defeated.

Barey himself turned to look toward the horizon as he got out his horn, breathing deep before blowing. Like the other mage-captains of Chiss, his wind magic had a unique affinity for sound, and music amplified his abilities to give the fleet a strong headwind. The other mage-captains in the fleet responded to the call, and soon the eight ships were plowing across the water toward the Far East Colony.

East of Proca

From Proca, two trade ships and four longboats departed east. The longboats were for escort, and the trade ships had supplies for long journeys to two key nations: Hospitlar and the Ssek Empire. The time had come to expand the borders of the Confederacy, and with the proper incentive these nations would aid the effort.

North of North Isle Colony

"The fee is variable based on the specifics of your intentions and the armaments of your vessel. I have the proper paperwork on hand, if you'll allow me to come aboard." The mage-captain didn't actually know the dwarven tongue, but the colonial mages were specialized in magics that enabled communication. In her mind she was speaking her tongue, but in reality the spell was translating it from the minds of the dwarves before the words reached her mouth.

“Igloo, tell the driver to go faster.”

Igloo tells the driver. The driver just laughs and points ahead.

“What? What so funny?”

“Sir Knight, he laughs because we are already here.” Igloo points ahead. “You see, it is the golden doors of Hospitlar.”

“Well…I knew that…Anyways that’s good we’re here I was beginning to get a rash from these tomaco* leafs we’re sitting on.”

The cart enters the great trading port and passes a disgruntle St.Johns. The St.Johns walking in circles, his arms flaring about, and cussing up a storm. Igloo and Locken stare at the strange sight. The St.Johns looks back at them.

“What the hell are you guys looking at!” The two men look forward again. Igloo turns to Locken and says, “What is his problem?*”

“Who cares Igloo. Not our problem. Anyways, tell the driver to take us to the Grand Hospitaller Temple.”

“Why there Sir Knight? The Blessed King would be in Castle Rhodes.”

“Because my ignorant friend, the High Counsel sits at the Temple. The High Counsel are the real rulers of this kingdom, the king is just a figure head. So if we are to plead our case and warn our comrades, we must head to the Temple.”

“Aye, aye Sir Knight.” Igloo tells the driver and they make their way to the Grand Hospitaller Temple.

*Tomaco: The plant use to make cigarettes to pray to Prometheus.

*If you want to find out why the St.Johns is so cranky read the thread, Ripple across the Middle Sea.

The ship was bow almost directly side by side, just a scant meter or so between the ship.

"Very well, you may come aboard" he said, eying his crew as the walked about the ship, with the air of theres something more important than talking to you looks, most dwarfs had this veiw if it was Dwarven wasnt worth bothering.

"Extend the plank" he turned and said, and with a thud moments later, a thing metal plank with railings bridged the gap between the two ships.

Mentally tickign off in his mind, what his ship carried he assumed it wasnt going to be much, barely fourty armed dwarfs and twentyfive of his crew, a few balistas and other assorta Dwarfish weaponry, and a cargohold full of food and provisions.

North of the Ssek Empire

The fleet that left Proca soon approached the shores of the Ssek Empire. One of the trade ships, which had had its supplies depleted during the trip, broke off from the fleet to dock. The other five vessels continued east, bound for Hospitlar.

North of the North Isle Colony

The mage-captain stepped up along the plank, with a militia on either side of her end with bows ready. The captain herself was a Chiss from her strong tan, dark hair and blue eyes, but the two militia appeared to be descendants of savages who immigrated to the Confederacy as part of a rather convoluted method of encouraging colonization. The captain smiled politely, presenting a plate of metal with a form clipped on. There was a box at the top for the ammount paid and the captain's signature to verify collection, and two larger boxes for detailing arsenal and mission. Slid under the clip was a thin line of writing lead wrapped in wood. "After you've filled out the big boxes, I'll take care of the part at the top."

Far East Colony, Southwest Gate

The head of the gate watch quickly ran out to stop the returning Procan host. "Now, we're all grateful for what you've done putting the orcs in their place, but what do you think you're doing putting them in ours?"

The mage-generals glanced between one another, then looked behind them at the several dozen of orc women, children, and teenagers, bound at the wrists by shackles of magically shaped and bound water. "Well, these are the ones who surrendered."

The gate guard sighed and nodded. "Alright, we'll get out some proper bindings, some tents... Looks like the governors will be having another meeting."

The Far, Icy North

Xahlkas (http://img75.imageshack.us/img75/2669/dahakabysephynadx6.jpg) stood in a chamber of ice. The walls were filled with a shifting blue-white light that mirrored the daemon's own skin, and seemed to pulse with each beat of his daemonic heart. In the center of the chamber was a tall slab of black stone, carved from the very source of all Evil in the world since the dawning of the Gods and the War of the Titans, a piece of the harbinger meteor itself. Atop the slab of black star-rock was a bowl, slender and shaped from silver, a relic from ancient times, crafted by the skilled hands of the High Elves during a time when their craft was unmatched even by the gods.

The daemon lord snapped his fingers and a ball of pure ice appeared over the bowl. He lifted his hand and a white flame erupted, melting the ice into the bowl. The room seemed to crackle and the light within the walls pulsed faster and more erratically. Xahlkas gripped with both hands the rim of the bowl and sent a ripple of white lightning across its edge, causing lines of ripples to form on the water's cool surface. With a spoken word the water froze and the bowl glowed. He created a portal through which he saw all.

He watched as his champion Kazellor marched through a high mountain pass, cursing the lowlife barbarian cattle that he drove forwards at Xahlkas' bidding. With a thought, the image shifted to show the daemon lord other scenes. Of his other champion, Azergal, who led the trolls upon a rampage through the lands of the south. Another of his minions in the far, far south in the Barbaric lands, marching towards Ithilar. With each scene Xahlkas grew more and more delighted. All was going according to plan.

Suddenly a pulsing ripple through the water. Xahlkas frowned and scratched a mind-bending symbol into the ice with a claw. The ice melted and then immediately refroze. A new image appeared. It showed a shaman or mage sitting in a ships cabin. A ragged and unkept fool. Xahlkas felt the power of the man and laughed, then noticed the daemonic presence near the man as well. Using his powers Xahlkas probed with his mind and knew all. An image of Xahlkas appeared in the Communion Mirror of the shaman, a petty trinket descendant of the Ice Mirror that Xahlkas held.

The voice that reverberated around the man's cabin sounded like nothing formed from a living throat – it was as hard and unyielding as hammered iron, the words rumbling out like the hot wind from a forge.

"I see you, meddler. I see all that you have done or would do. Wary thou should be or fear my wrath."

A voice echoed back in the far, icy north, like a million whispers echoing on the wind, speaking as one. "The meddler does my bidding. He has a purpose to serve, and he will serve it. He is not the one you should worry about, though. Leave him to his devices, for in reality he is my device."

Asush, Ssek Empire

The city was among the oldest in the Empire, and thus, by the reckoning of the Ssek, among the oldest in the world.

But like any big port city, old or young, its harbor was bustling with activity. A Procan trade ship was not at all unheard of, and encountered no difficulty coming in to dock.

At the same time, the trade ship Far Ranger, a dhow loaded with goods, was leaving dock. Its owner and captain, Skalk, watched the human ship with the characteristically impassive glare of the Ssek as it came in.

Asush, Ssel Empire

Skalk got the feeling there was something glaring back from the ship, but the feeling passed after a few seconds as the imp, hidden in the ship's carpenter's walk, dissolved into ichor to seep out into the waters beneath the ship, which had docked. Bubbling to the surface, the imp used its wings to aid it as it swam to the rear of the ship, climbing up to the captain's quarters, which was now abandoned by the half-elf as he made to deliver an offer amidst the merchants of Ssek regarding a slaving opportunity.

Far East Colony, Southwest Gate

Outside the gate, the newly bolstered Alliance Army stood watch over their orc captives. The teenagers were restless, but the women and children were suprisingly docile. Regular reports were documented and sent to the Governor, who was in council with his peers via Communion Mirror as to what to do with the orcs.

North of the North Isle Colony
Accepting the the sheet, he began to write down what he had, in poor english
Arnaments: Blista : x 6
Dwarf shot: x4
soilders x 24
Intentions: talks of peaceful with leader current ruling for trouble is brewing.

"I hope that is enough, and understandable, but my skill in your language and that of your kind is less then impressive" he addmited disdainfully, for a dwarf to admit his shortcomings that was very rare.

The Grand Hospitaller Temple is one story and a round, stone, building. On top of the door’s arch is a statue of Prometheus handing a torch to a kneeling man. This scene, the Scene of Matrix, is depicted throughout the port of Hospitlar. On the sides of the building are stain glass windows and in front of the door’s stairs is a statue of the Hospitaller Cross, the 8 Point Cross, painted black. On the bottom of the 8 Point statue reads, “In brightest day, in darkest night. No evil shall escape my sight. All those who worships evil’s might. Beware my power, Prometheus holy light.”

The two men get out of the cart. Igloo thanks the driver. The driver nods and smiles, goes off his marry way. The two men start to walk, then Robin stops dead in his tracks, stares at the 8 Point Cross. Igloo stops behind him.

“Sir Knight is ever…” Robin holds his hand up, a signal for Igloo to be quiet.

“When I was a boy Igloo, I walked with my Farther to the temple, when he went off to talk at the High Counsel. Each time he stopped me at this cross.” Pointing to the black, cold, statue. “Each time saying, Robin you must head home now. You can not go no further. Only us knights have the honor to walk pass this statue. And each time Igloo, I obeyed, I went home but not today.”

Robin takes one giant step pass the statue.

“Sir Knight, would you like me to come with?”

“No Igloo, this I must do alone.”
* * *
Robin enters a giant room. There is a door, guarded by two St.Johns. He walks across the grand mosaic, depicting Saint John shaking hands with Chieftain Adar Cathmor, the ruler who was the first to convert to the Cult of Prometheus. Robin taps his chest where his 8 point cross is, indicating the St.Johns to let him through the door.

“Sorry Sir Knight, but the Blessed King and is in session with the High Counsel.”

“O.k. than.” He says holding up his hands. “I Sir Knight Robin Locken order you to let me pass.”

“Orders from the Blessed King himself. No one may enter.”

“But it is very urgent you let me in. Orcs are pillaging our villages. The flippin’ Demon King has awaken. DO you know what that means?” Robin says getting more and more aggravated.

“No one may enter and anyways Sir Knight you look too young to be a Hospitaller. Are you even one at all?”

“That is it.” Robin starts mumbling an enchant, then all of a sudden, a pale white light bursts from his one eye. Knocking the door and the guards on the ground.

The Blessed King and the High Counsel quickly stand up and unsheathe their swords. The King says “Who dares to disrupt this counsel?”

Robin walks in. “I Sir Knight Robin Locken.”

OOC: I take it the Knights Hospitlar wear a lot of green?

North of the North Isle Colony

The captain looked over the form, raising an eyebrow. "Understandable... It's littered with a smattering of everything, after all... You only seem capable of short term piracy with this equipment should you have ill intent..."

She then closes her eyes, waving her hand through the air, drawing a sudden gust and a small wave against the dwarven ship. "...And your inventory matches up to your statement, so you don't have to worry about the decept penalty. That should put the cost at... I believe the equivolent value is seventeen of your units of currency, but I only remember the conversions, not the currency name, so seventeen of your units of currency."

The Ports of Hospitlar

The Procan fleet soon came to a stop beyond the shores of Hospitlar, the trade ship coming to the docks while the longboats waited offshore. Crew from the trade ship went out to buy fresh supplies using local currency, but two men went off to the streets. One was clad with a silken black vest over an ornate blue robe, using his polished wooden staff as a walking stick. The other, wearing the hood of his worn black robe over his head, gripped his ceremonial dagger's handle with one hand and the leather sheathe covering the blade with the other.

Soon, they came across a priestly looking figure, and the one in blue spoke on their behalf. "We seek those who advise the king to make an offer on behalf of the Governors of the Procan Confederacy."

North of the North Isle Colony

Working it out in his head, he didnt know the exact exchange rate, but he figured it to be around the twenty mark as well, nodding he reached into his belt pouch and removed Seventeen gold chips, after fishing them from the riviers of silver and copper.

"Here you are" he said somewhat gruffly, Dwarves did not like parting with money in any case, Bowing to her as if she was royalty he added "We recvice these "passes" and we are allowed to go free now?"

OOC: No, the Knights Hospitallers mainly wear black and white

The Blessed king yells at Robin, “How dare you enter in here in such a way. You dishonor the name of Hospitaller, you dishonor the Kingdom itself.”

“Dishonored Blessed King? No, I do not dishonor, I fight. For be warn my fellow Knights, Orcs have attacked this land. The Demon King has awaken from his slumber.”

One of the Counselknights speak up “Lies I hear. How does such a lowly Hospitaller know of such things. If the Demon King has returned then the All-Saint would have spoken up.”

“Well Counselknight, the All-Saint does not know of this for he is a charlatan, a fake. He is old and only cares for wealth and power. I do not, I only care for honor and my people. That is way I know before the speaker of Prometheus. I have spoken to the virgin priestess of Pallas themselves and they had confirmed my fears. Now what…”

Another Counselknight speaks up “Why are we even listening to you, Blessed King I urge you to arrest this so called Hospitaller and send him to Hell’s Tower.”

Another Counselknight adds “Yes arrest this Knight, he dishonors the 8 point cross he bares on his chest.”

“Dishonored Counselknight? What do you know of honor? What do any of you know of that word? Each time your ilk speak of that word, it rings hollow in my ear.” Robin then point to his fallen eye. “My fallen eye, ripped out by an orc himself while I defended my people, while I defended the Knights code. My fallen eye holds more honor then all in this room combined. My fallen eye, unlike the old power hungry Counselknights who care only for themselves and nothing about the code, cares more deeply about this kingdom, about the Knights code. I would fight under my dead eye before I fight for anyone of you.”

“Son.” The oldest looking of all the other knights walks over. “why do you say such horrid things to the King and Counsel.”

“Father I do not say such things to the king only the counsel. In this time we need to look for a hero, an icon that stands for what all believes. This can not be the counsel but only the Blessed King himself.”

Finally the Blessed King walks towards Robin, pushing his father aside and placing his hand on his shoulder. “Young Sir Knight, at first I was going to have you be moved to the Tower but I’ve waited and glad so. What you say makes sense, you are right. We have lost our way and now is the time to get back to it. You Sir Knight Robin Locken, I place the title of Counselknight…”

One of the Counselknights speak up “But Blessed King, he can not be one of us. There is no room.”

“Then I will make room. I declare the High Counsel dismembered and make this Knight, who is the bravest for speaking in cursed, but true, tongues. He alone will advise me of what to do.”

“Thank You my King.”

The King looks around the room “What are you all still doing here…LEAVE!” The former Counselknights grumble and head out of the room.

“Now that we are alone from usurping men, we are also being attack from Goblins in the North of Hosland. What do you suggest?”

“First I would send the Hospitlar army north, build up our navy and send the ships we have to patrol the coast. Then…”

Then a knight pops in, heaving heavily. He hands the King a note. The King reads the paper. “It also appears that troll have sacked and slaughter a village in Hellan. Scouts report there heading the the neaby Castle of Duke Dragoon. What now, Counselknight?”

“Well, it appears that the awakening of the Demon King has sturred monster out of the wood work. What we should do is call for help. Yes, it would show that were weak but we need the help.”

“Aye, I will send messengers to Silverfall, Slavian, The Empire, and…and...the dwarfs of iron Hill. We will hold meet in the Island of Malta, in the old Hospitaller Temple of Helm.”

“Sounds good.”

________________________________________________________________
The priestly man says “The Blessed King is in the Grand Hospitaller Temple, a strange looking build just down the road your on. Can’t miss it.”

Asush City, Ssek Empire

The Far Trader continued north out of the harbor, passing into another thread in the inconceivably vast tapestry of chaos, life, and nationstates.

The half-elf found himself amidst a sea of mottled green, gray and brown skinned reptilians. Only a few humans or human-looking could be spotted, but they stood out like sore thumbs, especially to color-vision enabled individuals.

Almost immediately he was confronted with offers. Some for the drug tlykh, some for things whose exact nature was unclear, some disturbingly for "pleasure mating."

North of the North Isle Colony

The captain nodded, filling out her part of the form with her name, seal, the date, and the ammount collected. "You can arrange a formal meeting with the government at any of the Isles, so I'll set your destination as Horza. The pass will last you a round trip between here and there, but since Horza's northwest of here you'll only need to go one way, so you'll have plenty of time before the pass expires. A longboat will come out to meet you when you dock, and you can present these papers, which'll cover the docking fee. If they try to claim a docking fee anyhow, which is likely in Horza, Section 5 of the Shipping Rights Treaty clearly states that those outside the Procan Alliance that come with peaceful intent or desire for trade have the fee for accessing Confederacy Waters and all docking fees covered simultaneously, including such vessels that are armed, and any further insistence on collection will result in a citation filed with the Enforcement Commission. Got all that?"

Asush City, Ssek Empire

The half-elven mage declines offers of drugs and pleasures, investigating the unclear offers until he can tell whether or not they are slavers. He investigates the areas where the human-looking beings are, figuring those areas being the best places to look for slavers.

Hospitlar

Since the priest was apparently shunning them, the pair of mages glance at one another and nod in unison. The cloaked mage leaves back for the ship, while the elder mage begins asking around as to how to arrange a diplomatic meeting with the leadership of Hospitlar.

A short, scarred reptilian noticed the half-elf scoping the place for slaves. The man was obviously not a slave himself, obviously not a merchant, but searching for something - or someone.

The reptilian addressed him in heavily-accented Common:

"I ssense that you are in need of my assistance! I am Kraos, of the Broken Claw clan. Tell me what, or who you are looking for!"

North of the North Isle Colony
With a nod, he bade the Captain farefare, taking note of what she said, he directed his ship to the aforementioned port sailing away from the longboat.

Asush City, Ssek Empire

Gavin smiled politely at the local, nodding in reply to the creature's question. "Greetings, Kraos. I am Gavin of Capida, and I seek those who would be interested in a large scale slaving opportunity that can afford mercenaries. There are some big projects going on in my homeland, and it'll involve clearing out a lot of orcs... Who are apparently rather docile and obedient while young, without losing any strength."

South of Horza

As the dwarven ship approaches the metropolis of Hazda, the alabaster light towers watching its shores dispatch a longboat to collect docking fees. The longboat pulls up alongside the dwarves, the elven captain letting his ears stick out from under the violet headband standard to the Horza military. "Hail, dwarves. On behalf of the proud city-state of Horza, I have been charged with collecting a modest docking fee."

OOC:Guess you must have miss this part Golugan

The priestly man says “The Blessed King is in the Grand Hospitaller Temple, a strange looking build just down the road your on. Can’t miss it.”

Kraos tilted his head quizzically as he listened. "You have my interesst, Gavin of Capida. You will not have trouble finding interested mercenaries in this city, but mercenaries who can defeat a lot of orcs - that is less easy to come by.

"I can help you there... for a modest finder's fee."

The Captain chuckled, as the Dwarven ship, drew nearer to its small wooden counterpart
"Mistaken, you are being" He said, again trying to remember how to speak english "Fee of paid, has been done at sea, Rights of shipping treaty section five intent of peace or trade is covered, and fee wavered regardless of us to be a ship of military standards. You savy?" He asked, hoping that the man could understand his english.

Outside the Grand Hospitlar Temple

Within short order, the two mages were at the eight point statue before the Grand Temple. The cloaked mage waited back a distance, whereas High Academician Dobin approached the man waiting by the statue with a polite smile and a friendly wave. "Tell me, good sir, how might one get an audience with those within?"

Asush City Market

Gavin smiled at Kraos, stroking his slightly stubbled chin in thought. "Hmm... I do have the money on hand to pay such a fee... On the other hand, the slavers and mercenaries would be the ones getting the wealth from this venture, so by directing them to me you'd be able to collect a much heavier percentile finder's fee, wouldn't you?"

South of Horza

The elf rolls his eyes, gesturing for his crew to roll out a board to let the dwarf captain aboard, moving to stand at his ship's end. "I trust you have the papers on hand and properly dated?"

OOC: We'll assume you do, Kewen, since it wasn't stated either way. Hospitlar, in case it wasn't clear, Dobin's talking to Igloo.

He nodded, and when he got onto the longboat, he removed the papers from his belt pouch and handed it to the elf
"Is thing being in order for our passing?"

Kraos said, "I will not direct them to you, but you to them. They do not come to others. One does not assk of them any fee. For fifty silver coins or equivalent, I can arrange a meeting and you may convince them of the worth of your proposal. Iss that satisfactory?"

ooc: figured i would jump into this thread, seeing as it's the closest to my country

ic:

Like the similar expeditions of Nanami and Higetomi, the three blue-oak treasure ships sailed through the narrow straits and into the Middle Sea. The ships set course due south, towards a chain of islands, they had learned, that sounded promising to their prospects of trade and commerce. Standing on the bow of the lead ship, Matsunage Naoto, Lord of Kie, looked out towards the horizon. Like Higetomi, he was one of the young Emperor's many mentors, and was reknowned for his nautical knowledge. From below, his daughter, Hanako, emerged and walked up to him.

"Father," she said in greeting. He nodded but didn't answer, knowing she had a question, "Is it really necessary to travel so far from home?"

"Hrm..." he began. Matsunage had liked it better when she was young, and simply took his word for what it was. The intemperance of her teenage years grew, however. "The Emperor has decided this is a worthwhile pursuit. As his servants, it is our duty to carry out his wishes."

"But, the Emperor is even younger than I," Hanako rebuked.

"He is advised by those beyond their years in wisdom, including myself," he answered his pestering daughter. "Trust that I know what I'm doing."

Hanako didn't answer, merely joined her father, looking out into the southern horizon. I hope you're right...

Asush Market

Gavin smirked, reaching for his coinpurse, dispelling the binding spell on the soaked drawstring that solidified the water so as to secure the knot. "Forty silver, and I'll tell you where my crew are looking for supplies so you can get a fee out of them." Of course, the Procan crew were seasoned enough in the markets to be able to find what they were looking for, but it wasn't likely that Kraos knew the reputation of an insular nation like the Confederacy.

South of Horza

The captain reached for the papers, but before he could examine them he "accidentally" lost his grip, a sudden gust catching the document. The elf smiled at the dwarf, holding a hand over his mouth in a thin veil of false regret. "Oops. How clumsy of me. It seems you don't have the papers on hand, so-"

"Caught 'em!" A call came from downwind on the far end of the longboat, with a half-elf waving the parchment as he moved toward the board. "Everything's in order, signed by Captain Piana of North Isle. They got plenty of time to spare, too."

The elf gave his subordinate a look, snatching the document away and giving it an affirmative glance before handing it to the dwarf. "You were rather far from your post, militia."

The half-elf meerly gave his captain a defiant smirk in retort. "Nah, I'm just quick for an abomination against the purity of elven blood."

The elf closed his eyes, breathing deep before turning his impatient gaze upon his fellow captain. "Move along, your papers are in order."

North of Capida Academy

Either Hanako or the lookouts of the treasure ships would soon notice a bulge flowing along the water from an island in the distance.

Kraos, like many of his kind, had at best a dry sense of humor. But he wasn't certain yet that the half-elf wasn't mad or foolish. And there was always the possibility that he was genuine.

The Ssek was silent as he made as if to consider. Then he replied, "It iss agreed. Follow me now."

OOC: Sooo...this is the closest thing to me, it seems. Except for the Crusade, but that's a whole 'nother ketlle of worms.

IC:
Incognitian traders were a fairly regular sight on the Middle Sea. Not as regular as on the Dolthiac Ocean, of course, where they got everywhere, but often enough they came in and out of Nesais and the smaller ports up and down the coast.
The main trade was with Angermanland on the opposite corner of the Middle Sea, but some traders followed the clockwise currents round the sea, thus taking them past Ithilar and the Procan Confederacy.
And traders don't just sail blithely past opportunities for fun and profit, at least if they're any good they don't...so they stopped occasionally in those places as they passed. They couldn't help but notice, there was an awful lot of movement amongst the peoples of the Middle Sea. The Procans seemed to be at war with the barbarians, there'd been sightings of dwarves in their ships of iron, and there were even rumours that the Ssek were moving west once again.
It was decided, by that small, nameless group which actually ran the squabbling mess of the Assembly, that it was time to ask the Procans just what they were up to. They might not even lie.
All eyes in the coffee-houses of town were on the Holy Empire, but word was their main thrust was northwards, so those who attempted to plan for weeks, and months, and generations, now looked West.

A small flotilla of naval vessels thus set out from Nesais, and sailed westwards to Proca. Their Commodore, for thus he rated, was a man named Luke Johnson, and he was named with powers as an emissary to the Confederacy. On reaching Procan waters a few days later, he ordered they sail for the capital, and bring their message directly to the rulers of the Confederacy.

___

Dealing with Ssek was more problematic. It wasn't even certain that they were up to anything. A few merchants heading that way were discreetly asked to keep an eye out, however...also to bend their voyages further westward than normal. Word would filter back.

___

As for Angermanland, that was simple and straightforward. A message was 'cast through the ether, from a mage in Nescia to a mage in the embassy in Angerwrath.
This message was passed, in the ordinary way of these things, to the Ambassador, one Jamie Wood, who requested an audience with the Prince to 'discuss matters pertaining to the state of affairs around the Middle Sea'. He'd get it, that or a meeting with a high-level functionary.

in this case, it was a functionary who met with the Incognitian ambassador, if the nation's foreign minister could really be called a mere functionary.

"Lord Oia will see you now, sir" in the royal palace, even the functionaries had assistants and functionaries of their own, often enough. a sad side effect of the chaotic system under which the Principality was run was the need for an extensive bureaucracy, at least within the palace, just to keep track of what all the different factions were doing.

"so, Jamie, what is it that your masters require of us today, humm?" Oia and Wood had a reasonably casual relationship, by this point. Oia was admittedly the elder of the two, but his rank was not that much higher, in the grand scheme of things, and the two worked together often. "I regret the prince could not see you in person, however he is currently in Kant on one of his trips. you know how it is."

* * * * *

in the north, a small patrol of Angerman warships, catamarans with their weapons mounted fore and aft, rather than in broadsides, three masts one beside the other, and three square terraced decks, were patrolling for pirates.

under the command of one John Hawk, they were currently passing the Blue Gates, the narrow strait that lead to the Endless Blue from the Middle Sea.

when the lookouts reported strange blue ships passing through the Gates, naturally, Hawk ordered his small squadron to turn and investigate.

"Well Oia, first of all, as we have spoken of before, this Crusade is causing them some concern. Our relations with the Holy Empire have never been entirely easy, and the dwarvish community are more concerned than any, of course.
However there also seem to be murmurings of rising trouble all around the Middle Sea; Proca are engaged in something big, we don't know what; Ithilar are getting bigger beastman incursions than normal. And then in the Dolthiac, Lordaenor are fortifying the entire country, or so it seems; we're half expecting to hear that Silverfall's coming under pressure again; and finally Ssek are active to their West.
Essentially all our near neighbours are up to something big, or are coming under attack. We're trying to discern if there is something they all know that we don't; or whether they're just all separately up to more than usual.
I guess we're also looking for reassurance that you're not engaged in some great project as well."
He grinned. Angermanland was ALWAYS engaged in some great project, and they both knew it. Equally, they both knew it wasn't of the sort he was describing.
"So, following on from that, we're hoping that if something big IS going on, we can rely on working with you to resolve it, as we have done in the past. I know you well enough not to seek blanket assurances that you might have to break, but even your normal carefully worded statement of support would be helpful right now, the Assembly are getting a little twitchy."

"no, no, no grand projects of the sort which worry you, save perhaps poaching other people's smiths and miners. still playing catch up on the whole metalworking thing, sadly." Oia paused "though, you know, some of the priests have been a little agitated lately. not stirring trouble or anything, just individually on edge. that's about the most unusual thing happening Here, anyway. well, i can't speak for what the scholars are getting up to in the universities, mind you. but the unusual is their usual business "

Oia paused as a servant brought drinks. imported coffee for the ambassador, and an infusion of peppermint for the minister.

"i don't understand how you can drink that muck, i really don't." Oia commented, hiding his own smile behind his mug. it was a long running joke. Wood found the peppermint sour in his stomach, while Oia found the coffee detestably bitter. while some of Angermanland's more adventurous citizens quite enjoyed the stuff, others reacted badly to the mere smell. as a result the market for it was small in the principality, and so it fetched a fair price.

"anyway. such a statement shall be drafted as soon as we're done here and sent to your office for dispatch. the crusade has us worried too. it makes almost as little sense as warring against people who read books, or sail in ships. pure folly.

as for the south though... bah, for the most part, what do we care? pirates and barbarians, the lot. we'll fight them if they threaten us, trade with them if there's profit to be had, and other wise they can all make a pilgrimage to the underworld and never come back for all I care. "
he paused
"unofficially, that's the Prince's position as well, roughly speaking. there are, naturally, exceptions if it becomes advantageous to us to do something, mind you. if your government sees such opportunity, somehow, do tell us, if you would. "

"Of course. Usual arrangements apply. Entirely unofficially, I do hear some of our priests and magicians are collaborating to see if there is something supernatural behind it all, but they've found out nothing so far. My personal opinion is that it's because that buffoon Chapman is in charge, sending them down all the wrong tunnels, but of course you never heard that from me about the High Admiral's Magical Advisor."

___

Magical Advisor. What was the point in an advisor who couldn't give you advice? The High Admiral fumed as he stalked down the corridor. All Chapman was giving him was constant bleating on how uncertain the magical arts were, and how difficult it was - of course it was difficult! If it wasn't difficult then HE, High Admiral Hugh Lowe, would do it himself.
"Uh, High Admiral?"
He turned. It was that young magician, what was his name again?
"It's Thompson, sir. I'm an aide to Mr. Chapman."
"Ah yes. Well what is it, Thompson? Have you made any progress?"
"Ah, no sir. In fact that's exactly why I was hoping to see you."
Thompson seemed very swiftly to have banished his initial uncertainty, and was now looking almost confident, standing there in front of probably the most powerful single man in the Republic.
"So if you've made no progress, what is it you wish to say?"
"Well, High Admiral, I have an idea which should let us find out what you wish to know. However Mr Chapman absolutely refuses to hear of it, and won't even permit me to finish explaining what I want to try. He insists on blundering through the same old spells again and again, learning nothing new from them."
"Would I understand the technical details, Mr. Thompson?"
"Probably not sir. It's all to do with iteration."
"That'll be a no. More important, then. Is it SAFE?"
"For everyone except the spell-caster, certainly sir. For me...probably. I'm sure enough that I'm prepared to risk it."
"Risk what, exactly?"
"Having my soul ripped from my body and taken beyond the reach of Ifni. Well, at worst, anyway sir."
"That'd be pretty damn certain then. Right, how long will it take?"
"Well, I'll need the main Enchanting Room, probably for a couple of hours, sir. That'll cut my chances of a horrible death by at least two thirds."
"Ah, I see why you needed permission. Do you need assistance?"
"Beyond yours in gaining access to the Enchanting Room for two hours straight, none I don't have already sir."
"Very well. You have my authority to bump anyone using it on any business not marked Urgent by the Assembly itself, for the next three hours. Go and bring me an answer, Mr. Thompson, and I will deal with Mr. Chapman."
"Thank you sir." And Thompson disappeared up the next corridor.

Two and a half hours later, all was ready. It had taken a little longer than expected, because one of the crucial protective charms had failed to compile, and they'd had to re-write it a little. It was slightly less optimised for low-drain now, but if anything stronger and more effective; he just had less time to find his answer before, sapped of power, he would have to drop the spells or die.
He pronounced the magic word, quietly,
"execute"
and without fanfare, without flashy lights, without apparently anything happening at all, he knew. He knew the answer that he sought....he knew why everyone was moving all at once...he knew. And, in a side-effect of the spell, he now carried a tiny bit of what he had found within him, like a bad smell.
"Ifni preserve us" and as he said it, it was more heartfelt than ever before.
He told only the High Admiral. The High Admiral told the relevant Assembly committee, an Assemblyman told a friendly whore, and it was in the scandal sheets by dawn the following day "Demon King Rises! Beasts and Fell Creatures everywhere affected!"
It would only get worse from here.

in the north, a small patrol of Angerman warships, catamarans with their weapons mounted fore and aft, rather than in broadsides, three masts one beside the other, and three square terraced decks, were patrolling for pirates.

under the command of one John Hawk, they were currently passing the Blue Gates, the narrow strait that lead to the Endless Blue from the Middle Sea.

when the lookouts reported strange blue ships passing through the Gates, naturally, Hawk ordered his small squadron to turn and investigate.

"Furl the sails and weigh anchor," Matsunage barked before turning to Hanako. "Get down below, quickly!"

"But-"

"That isn't a suggestion!" he spat before rushing off to make sure his orders were carried out.

From above, a lookout spied something on the horizon, a strange bulge of some sort...

Asush Market

Gavin smiled, palming half the silver to Kraos while holding the other half for him to see. "Upon arrival."

North of Capida Academy

The bulge on the water veered off, apparently not wanting to get involved.

OOC: I couldn't find Anger's Factbook, so I figured his claim wasn't active yet.

Eastern Perimeter of Procan Waters

A singular longboat on patrol soon came upon the Commodore's flotilla, bearing a yellow diagonal stripe across its blue sail to identify it as being of the fleet of Proca City itself. From where the ships were, two islands could be seen: One was rather large and easy to spot due to the mountainous terrain, but the other was a ways north and much smaller, making it harder to spot.

The captain of the longboat hailed the Incognitians with a wave and, when they were close enough, a call. "What brings you to Procan waters?"

"I have been sent by the Assembly and High Admiral of Incognitia to commence wide-ranging talks on a variety of issues with your government, but especially concerning recent movements by orcs, beastmen and other fell creatures all around the Middle Sea."

That would do for now. He would happily show his credentials, but further details could really wait until he was talking to those he had been sent to see.

The three ships of the flotilla hove to, so they wouldn't be trying to pass the Procan ships while they awaited a response.

ooc: could someone else, 'discover' me, then...?

Kraos nodded and opened his mouth, revealing a flash of his teeth. Gavin realized this was an attempt to mimic the human smile, as the Ssek beckoned and began sauntering through the bustling market.

"It is but a short disstance," Kraos said. "From here, that iss. For you it has obvioussly been longer. These orcs of yours are a matter of importance."

They came to a tall, smooth-walled building with a banner hanging from unidentifiable bones in the front. Kraos strode to the entrance and knocked twice. There was a responding knock from somewhere inside and then he simply opened the door, brushing through a jangling curtain and entered into the warm, dimly-lit guildhouse.

"Half-Elf," someone said in a low voice in excellent common. "So rare."

Asush Slaver Guildhouse

Gavin handed Kraos the remainder of the silver owed, glancing around for the source of the voice. "So are subserviant orcs, but are actually easy to come by if you get them young. A viable prospect, too, if you involved in the project my superiors have planned."

East Procan Waters

"Ah, you want to head to Capida, that island north of here. Proca is just where the treaties were negociated, Capida is where the informed individuals are." Especially in matters demonic, the captain thought, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. Better they found out the hard way from the locals... Get used to it.

The speaker was a reclining Ssek who lay along the far side of the room.

Kraos looked at the coins, then at the speaker, and left.

"Straight to the point! That too is rare. But, Half-Elf, I would know who you are, who your superiors are, and what project you speak of before we can begin."

The Ssek slowly stretched, and Gavin could see it wasn't clothed.

ooc: assuming i dock relativly okay with no troubles.
IC:

The Dwarven ship, slid into the harbour rather plainly the crew not lazing about, but not working either, typical Dwarf behaviour even when theywere off duty they still acted as if they were on duty.

With a loud clang, and a copious amount of mumbling the ramp was extended to the dock and the Dwarfs began to secure the ship.

Sighing, the captain knocked on the door
"Ahem," he said " We are head Master Rilgim" holding his captains hat in front of him nevrously
"Very good captain, you run a tight ship here you will go a long way indeed, what was your name again?" Rilgim said, as he tidyed his uniform and shined his badge, which if you were a dwarf would signal a extremly high rank.

"Its Varim my lord, thank you"
"It is a pleasure, now i bid myself adiu" he Rilgim said, as he dismissed the now smiling captain and made his way to the deck his gold engared and intricatly carved armour glinted in the light from the Runelamps.

Landing with a rather loud thud on the deck, a sound unfit for a dwarf his size, but fit for the amount of personal armour he wore. if sold it could probably finance a whole war effort such was the wealth of a GuildMaster.

With a wave to the visibly lightened Dwarf crew, he began to head to a government office of somekind, walking as if the Battleaxe on his back weighed nothing even if he was as high as some of the kids around here he saw.

Horza Docks

Almost immediately, a human who was about as high as the aforementioned battleaxe clad in a ragged gray shirt and faded blue shorts run barefoot along the dock toward the virtually radiant Guildmaster. "Hey there, mister dwarf lord sir! I can show you whatever you're looking for in town at just a silver a block! And that's distance from the starting point, not distance travelled like those elven grifters."

Asush Slaver Guild

Gavin didn't seem to mind that the reptilian wasn't clothed, most likely due to the sort of things you can see in Capida. "I am Academician Gavin Yalei of Capida Academy, on behalf of the Procan Confederacy. We plan on make a rather large expansion of territory southward, into orc lands. That means a lot of the local population will have to be... removed. Death will be neccesary for the adult males, some teenagers... But the women and children are very much submissive and lack nothing in strength. We're interested in mercenaries to aid in combat, but mainly in getting the orcs out of what will be our land."

The slaver stared at Gavin for two moments. Then he (or she? it was hard to be certain) said evenly,

"Academician Gavin Yalei, of the Procan Confederacy, do you take me for a fool?"

Asush Slaver's Guild

Gavin's smile faded, his face turning serious. He slipped out a handheld Communion Mirror in his palm, willing it to connect to the crewmaster of his ship long enough for him to hear the statement preceeding his question. "My guide owes me some silver if you are, which I'm sure my crew will deal with. What are your concerns about the operation we have planned?"

Asush Market

The crewmaster nodded as the image of his mage-captain's hip faded from the mirror, which he stowed before moving among the haggling crew, whispering to them to look for a guide sent by the captain and to detain him.

The slaver replied, "You offer slaves, but only if we go and fight to acquire them in the first place. That is nothing we can not do ourselves, if we wished! So what truly do you propose?"

He answered his own question before Gavin had a chance. "You propose that your Confederacy gain land from orc barbarians, and that Ssek fight for it! A very good deal for you, but which we would be fools to accept as it stands. Fools like my cousin. Kraos!"

The 'guide' opened the door, apparently having never gone too far at all. "Yes, Vhor."

"Kraos," and Gavin couldn't help but notice that the two were speaking in Common still, "Where did you find this man and why?"

Kraos turned his head to stare at Gavin for a moment. His expression, of course, was unreadable to the mage. He addressed Vhor.

"In the market. He sseemed to need assistance, and he sspoke of mercenary work."

Vhor said, "That he does, and that he did, but you failed by not learning anything more than that. For example that he is a government agent and he is hoping we can fight his war quickly, quietly... and cheaply."

Kraos blinked once, again unreadable.

Gavin sighs, shaking his head. "It seems I did not speak clearly. The mercenaries would be supporting a bulk of Procan forces, possibly with supplement forces from other lands that have an interest in the fall of the rising orc warlord. One nation that wants the orcs destabilized, another that wants strong corpses... The fact of the matter is you'd be getting thousands of slaves of superior quality, ready for breeding and labor at the fraction of the normal cost."

Gavin then gives Vhor an appraising stare. "Of course, if it's the act of aiding in the conquest of foreign lands you're uncomfortable with, I'm sure what mercenaries you have available will be able to bring back plenty of slaves fighting exclusively defensive battles."

Horza Docks

Almost immediately, a human who was about as high as the aforementioned battleaxe clad in a ragged gray shirt and faded blue shorts run barefoot along the dock toward the virtually radiant Guildmaster. "Hey there, mister dwarf lord sir! I can show you whatever you're looking for in town at just a silver a block! And that's distance from the starting point, not distance travelled like those elven grifters."



ooc: the battle axe isnt tall, i mean the Dwarf lord himself is as tall as the kid
IC:
Rilgim stopped, and eyed the boy carefully before deciding he could use a guide, but he didnt say it out loud reaching into a very tightly and secure beltpouch inside his chest armour, he dug out five gold coins, and flipped em at the boy before gruffly saying in english
"Take me to what passes as your house of lords, or government building where i can speak to who ever is at the top of this chain, and dont lead me any where foolish boy"

Vhor's eyes narrowed. Yes, the half-human was no merchant, but he did have something with which to bargain. Or thought he did, and that was easily verifiable. But, he didn't understand the slave business.

He stretched again, and slowly sat up. "My comfort is not an issue. The breeding and cost, however, are. I am breeding those slaves you speak of, right now, you see, and for no cost at all! They raise, feed, and breed themselves in the wilds, and when I need slaves, I arrange to have them fetched, and then I get rid of them quickly to avoid their expense."

"But, what you would propose is - for want of a better expression - soiling the nest. Bring back thousands of slaves, yes - but what happens in the next generation, when my hatchlings are heading the Broken Claw clan, and they desire slaves to trade or use? They will have to look elsewhere, and eventually, there will be no breeding grounds in the wild, and that will be the end of the trade."

Kraos spoke in Ssekite. Vhor responded, and then said: "But, I understand that your nation will do this with or without Ssek help, and so you may as well get it from me."

The slaver asked, "About when will you be planning on this campaign, and when do you wish it over with by?"

East Procan Waters

"Ah, you want to head to Capida, that island north of here. Proca is just where the treaties were negociated, Capida is where the informed individuals are." Especially in matters demonic, the captain thought, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. Better they found out the hard way from the locals... Get used to it.

"It seems then, that we will need to go to both at some point, for we come to discuss matters both mundane and mystical."
"We will however go to Capida first, then bend our course back to Proca...for I imagine we will finish our business on Capida faster, and thus more swiftly commence our second task."
<Because mages speak the truth to one another much better than do politicians>, he carefully did not say aloud.

So the Vengeance, Lady's Servant and Enforced Respect turned northwards, and came in to Capida, to ask what the Confederacy knew of recent supernatural events.


___

Somewhere in the Dolthiac Ocean
Stupidity mixed with compassion is a very dangerous brew indeed. No-one had ever accused Captain Douglas Todd, of the Republican Navy, of being excessively intelligent. He was certainly not politically savvy, and would likely never have risen any higher even if he hadn't...well, we'll see.
Compassion is a word that doesn't often, easily associate with captains of naval vessels; Captain Todd, however, looked after his crew as best he could, and still had room left over to care about the plight of others.
Plight. That was exactly the word, he mused, as he looked over at the 'trading' ship ahead of them.
Packed full of slaves, it was a floating prison, perhaps. Trade wasn't the word.
It was Ssekian, of course; it's doubtful that helped Captain Todd's equanimity at all - it was people, enslaved by snakes. How could that be right?
"Call for them to heave-to."
"Aye sir. UNKNOWN VESSEL, THIS IS THE LADY'S LAUGH OF THE REPUBLICAN NAVY. HEAVE-TO AND PREPARE FOR BOARDING."
"Uh, Captain, do we have a pretext for this?"
"What pretext could we need, Lieutenant!?"
"Politics, sir. If I might suggest, we have long claimed the right to confiscate Incognitian citizens from slavers. We just have to say that we've heard there might be citizens of ours on board."
"Where did we hear that?"
"Mr. Johnson! Repeat after me, if you please 'there might be Incognitian citizens on that ship!'"
"There might be Incognitian citizens on that ship, sir."
"Thank you very much. There we go, we heard it sir. And now it is our duty to check."
"WE ARE GOING TO SEARCH YOUR CARGO FOR INCOGNITIAN CITIZENS, UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE SLAVERY (PREVENTION) ACT."

The Lady's Laugh was a large ship of the latest design. Carrying over fifty cannon, a hefty party of marines and three mages, she could confidently fight almost any single ship afloat; the question was whether the Ssek ship would make a useless show of defiance...or not.

And Captain Todd had just drifted into some testy waters indeed, though he knew it not.

OOC notes:
Incognitia has always been against slavery in all it's forms. This, along with about the only socially acceptable form of species-ism, has made Ssek-bashing an occasional pastime.
Having been on an extended patrol in the Dolthiac Ocean, the Lady's Laugh and her company are unaware of the changes and instabilities sweeping the region.
The Slavery (Prevention) Act is a populist piece of legislation permitting officers of the Army and Navy, and selected merchants, to confiscate any Incognitian they find held as a slave. Traditionally, this is held to include the entire 'cargo' of a slaving ship, with some extremely contorted claims to citizenship, but also to include a fair sum of gold slipping into the slaver's pockets, just to avoid a diplomatic fuss. Nothing like their market value, of course, but compensation for not being silly and putting up a fight. Usually the Navy's too busy to do much of this kind of work, which (usually) helps prevent it's becoming too big of a diplomatic issue.

ooc: wait, you have more then one ship with fifty cannon?

OOC: He doesn't give exact details, but from Thrashia's rough description of the tech level I figure we're topping out at about the Mary Rose, possibly the Spanish Armada era if I'm lucky.
Mary Rose is described as having had 78 cannon when first built, though these were of course of varying sizes, and mostly considerably lighter than on later warships.
So yes, 50 cannon, though probably only 20 will be heavy enough to do serious damage to shipping, whereas the remainder will be for use on sails, rigging, and of course men.
As to the number of ships on this scale, while I haven't worked out exact numbers, for the population I've got and the way I've written my nation, I think a navy about the size of Henry's is sustainable, which I'm considering to be 12-15 on the size of Lady's Laugh, none the size of Great Harry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Harry), and another 30-35 somewhat smaller again than Lady's Laugh, averaging 30 guns of which 10 would be heavy cannon.
One of the many things where I'm working more on guess-work and gut instinct than hard data, but I'm reasonably confident that this is reasonable. I'd love to be allowed mid C17th ships (Vasa, or even Sovereign of the Seas) but I doubt it's gonna happen.

Horza Docks

The youth's eyes bulged at the glittering gold in his hand, then looked at the dwarf with a raised eyebrow at his request. "Leadership in the Alliance ain't that centralized sir. I can get you to the people you want to talk to, but to know where to take you I need to know what you'll be talking: Information and magic events, you want the Mage Guildhouse. Business and trade, that's the Merchant Guildmaster, who's luckily here in Horza this month. Politics and war, you want the Governor's Office. So, which is it?"

Asush

Gavin smiled and pulled out a map of the Confederacy (http://i36.tinypic.com/27wu9mp.jpg), with the intended expansion drawn on. "It'll take some time to assemble the forces, particularly if we're going to try to get the Hospitlars fighting alongside the undead of the Forsaken Wastes. Our representation should be back to meet up with what forces you contribute sometime within the first week of next month, by the standard maritime calendar. Given the size of the territory we'll be taking, I don't imagine the campaign itself lasting longer than a week."

Capida

The Incognitians were quietly escorted in to dock by a pair of longboats on patrol. After arriving at the docks, a greasy man of gaunt figure clad in the attire of a Capidan mage stood at the dock to greet who they sent out. "We were mirrored as to your intentions. Do you seek information of the varieties mystic, mundane, or both? For a few silver, I can take you to the one who has the knowledge you desire."

Vhor took the offered map gingerly and examined it. He looked up when Gavin gave the time estimate.

"And about how many Warriors of mine will your campaign support?" he asked.

OOC: Terror Incognitia plz check your TGs.

Rilgim thought for a second, rubbing his temple before he replied
"Take me to the governers officer please" as he tucked his money pouch back into its safe very very hard to steal place, as if you would even think of steal from a very heavily armed dwarf in the first place..

Somewhere in the Dolthiac Ocean

Skalk awoke from his light slumber. One of his mercenaries, Kher, was waking him.

"What is it?" he demanded, lethargically beginning to move.

"A Republican Navy ship demands to board us. Your sailors are already furling the sails as they demand we 'heave to,' whatever that means," she replied.

Angrily Skalk came to the deck. "Said something about searching for their citizens," Kher said, pointing at the immense warship approaching. "Should we fight?"

Skalk shook his head. "They would win, and they can outrun us if we ran."

The ship came closer. "There's nothing we can do but hope they leave our cargo alone," he said.

Asush

Gavin pulled out an additional scroll, one with a great deal of writing on it. He squinted to read, mainly due to the color of the writing being similiar to that of the parchment so that those who may be colorblind couldn't read it. "I've been given ranges of budgets for various troop types: Melee versus ranged, infantry versus cavalry, you get the idea. We're looking at anywhere from two to five regiments, depending on what sort of mercenaries are available, the cost per man, and whether they charge per day or per battle."

Horza Streets

The youth nods, gesturing for the Guildmaster to follow. The boy is quick despite being barefoot, but always makes sure not to go so quick as to lose his employer. The route is very direct, but the boy points out landmarks along the way that may be relevant to the dwarf's interest: The dock barracks that they pass has mercenary postings for those looking to hire soldiers, the tavern a block up from the barracks had rooms to stay in, one of which was being used by the Merchant Guildmaster, and the Mage Guildhouse was three blocks due south of the last intersection before the city block devoted exclusively to the extravagent basicila that was the Horza Governor's Office. "Here we are, sir, just like you asked."

Vhor slowly nodded. "I do not have regiments of mercenaries at my command, but can arrange a deal with other companies. We all employ Ranked Warriors, and so they are trained to use bows as well as sword, halberd and spear. Of course, we do not ride as cavalry."

He added, "The fees will best be handled with a lump sum, in advance and after, which we distribute to individual warriors as needed. In general, we would say, 10 per man per day, with an additional 50 per man per battle. But this is highly negotiable."

"They've clearly decided to be sensible, sir."
"Excellent. It would seem a little counterproductive to stop a ship to search for our citizens, and end up having to sink it just to get it to stop."
As the Ssekian vessel came to a stop, the Lady's Laugh came smoothly up alongside her.
The captain might be quixotic, but the crew were well-drilled and professionally competent.
A party of a dozen marines were formed up on deck, halberds gleaming; halberds their chosen weapon for being reasonably effective both on land and at sea, and for a held halberd carrying slightly less naked threat than an unsheathed sword...
The rest of the marines and some of the ship's crew would pile across if necessary, but again too large a naked threat was generally seen as somewhat counter-productive; if the 50 guns weren't enough, the entire crew brandishing swords wouldn't help much, and might close off other options.
As soon as there was a safe passage, the marines passed across. Their commander, Lieutenant Jameson, presented his credentials to a baffled figure who appeared to be the captain, and immediately despatched his men in pairs to search the holds, retaining two on deck with him.
It didn't take them long to report that, besides the Ssekian crew and a few animals kept for food (OOC: assuming from standard seafaring practice in the days before refrigeration) the marines themselves were the only living beings on board.
Citizens of Incognitia there were none, and slaves of any decription, none either.
The marines formed up again on the deck of the Ssekian ship, and Lieutenant Jameson told them to stay where they were while he went to talk to the Captain. What happened next is not entirely certain, but he seems to have slipped on the gangplank. To cries of "Treachery", stupid in hindsight, but understandable when considering soldiers dealing with what many of them saw as dangerous beasts, the marines waded into the crew, halberds swinging. Their young lieutenant was unable to restrain them.
Captain Todd just gazed dumbfounded at the unfolding carnage on the next deck.
Only the swift actions of Lieutenant Phillips, who himself stood at the end of the gangplank, sword drawn, prevented the entire marine contingent and much of the crew of Lady's Laugh flooding over to sack the merchant vessel totally. Once three steady marines had taken over that duty, he ran over the gangplank to get the dozen marines there under control.
All he could do was hope against hope that he wasn't too late...

There were but 12 sailors and 6 mercenaries aboard the Far Ranger. The sailors were unarmed and began to ran when the marines attacked, but four were cut down by the long reaching halberds. Skalk, himself not a warrior, also ran away from the battle, shouting as he did for everyone to stop, stop, stop.

The mercenaries were Warriors, however, and their instinct when under attack was to fight, not flee. Fight they did, though they were outnumbered 2 to 1, meeting the attackers with scimitar, bow and spear. They showed no fear, and moved only to dodge a blow or get into a better position for battle.

Kher, who herself had a halberd stowed aboard ship, cursed herself for having allowed it out of her sight, but gamely unsheathed her curved blade and, angered at the seeming betrayal, slashed through a nearby Marine, spilling a bloody pile of guts onto the deck. Then she moved on, reflex taking over even as she calmly noted one of her fellow Warriors take a halberd swing to the skull.

Asush

Gavin looked at his scroll, blinking in thought, then looked at Vhor. "Ten and fifty... copper? Silver? Gold?"

Horza Streets

The youth nods, gesturing for the Guildmaster to follow. The boy is quick despite being barefoot, but always makes sure not to go so quick as to lose his employer. The route is very direct, but the boy points out landmarks along the way that may be relevant to the dwarf's interest: The dock barracks that they pass has mercenary postings for those looking to hire soldiers, the tavern a block up from the barracks had rooms to stay in, one of which was being used by the Merchant Guildmaster, and the Mage Guildhouse was three blocks due south of the last intersection before the city block devoted exclusively to the extravagent basicila that was the Horza Governor's Office. "Here we are, sir, just like you asked."

"Very good lad, Buy yourself something nice" He said, he was about to walk into the building when he stopped and addressed the boy again
"I may have need be, for a guide when I return from this building, if your still around there would be more" he nodded to the coins "where that came from"

Stepping inside the building, he headed towards a recoptionist or the closet thing to one.

There were but 12 sailors and 6 mercenaries aboard the Far Ranger. The sailors were unarmed and began to ran when the marines attacked, but four were cut down by the long reaching halberds. Skalk, himself not a warrior, also ran away from the battle, shouting as he did for everyone to stop, stop, stop.

The mercenaries were Warriors, however, and their instinct when under attack was to fight, not flee. Fight they did, though they were outnumbered 2 to 1, meeting the attackers with scimitar, bow and spear. They showed no fear, and moved only to dodge a blow or get into a better position for battle.

Kher, who herself had a halberd stowed aboard ship, cursed herself for having allowed it out of her sight, but gamely unsheathed her curved blade and, angered at the seeming betrayal, slashed through a nearby Marine, spilling a bloody pile of guts onto the deck. Then she moved on, reflex taking over even as she calmly noted one of her fellow Warriors take a halberd swing to the skull.

Five Ssek were down; one Marine was dead or as-good-as, with his intestines on the deck, and another was down clutching his shoulder.
The Ssek warriors were good, but still outnumbered two to one.
The only problem was, Philips wanted the Marines to disengage, not slaughter them.
Grabbing Jameson, he took the man's whistle from him, and blew it hard. Then again. Then again.
The signal to hold fast given, the marines attempted to link back up with one another. One more fell in the confusion as he moved back, but the remaining nine managed to form a line on the deck, a solid line of halberds.
Philips now looked to the Ssek "Stop! Stop! Please, stop before you all die! There is no honour in this death!"
Their blood was up, but they had been brought under a semblance of control. Now the open question was whether the Ssek would stop...and what would happen if they didn't. A few of the marines on Lady's Laugh, frustrated in wanting to go and help their mates on the other deck, had gone for their bows. They now stood on the deck, restrained by their sergeant, but nonetheless ready to pepper the Ssek ship.

Capida

The Incognitians were quietly escorted in to dock by a pair of longboats on patrol. After arriving at the docks, a greasy man of gaunt figure clad in the attire of a Capidan mage stood at the dock to greet who they sent out. "We were mirrored as to your intentions. Do you seek information of the varieties mystic, mundane, or both? For a few silver, I can take you to the one who has the knowledge you desire."OOC: Since it seems you missed it and your TG.

Horza

The boy smiled and nodded as the dwarf entered the gates to a finely trimmed courtyard, the plants in it being more fit for a garden than decoration: Grapevines cloaking statues like robes as the figures, gesturing upward, cupped their hands around the blossoms of peach trees. Some of the statues kneeled and gestured as though making an offering to the less fortunate, their hand reaching to strawberry bushes.

The Governor's Office itself looked like a parody of a gothic temple that had been rebuilt to make a residence and place of work. The halberdiers standing guard at the door recognized the Guildmaster as a figure of importance, and opened the doors for him, drawing the attention of the Governor.

The interior of the main hall looked like a refurbished place of worship, pews being replaced with long tables or flipped around to seat them so as to allow discussion among the advisors, and the podium where a priest would have spoken had armrests, a seat, and padding added on to make a Governor's Throne. The man sitting in it, who had been boredly overlooking bickering bueracrats, perked up at the sight of the dwarf.

Pulling himself from the throne, the elderly gentleman grabbed a polished can that had been propped against the throne and made his way over, violet robes flowing as he made to greet the man. A second man, clad in a decorated mix of blue and purple, stayed within arms reach at all times. A third man, an elven courtier, soon moved to intercept the Governor. "Sir, this drunken soldier isn't worthy of your ti-"

The courtier soon found the Governor's attendant showing his full strength, lifting the elf above his bald head by the throat. He looked to his superior, who made a series of gestures with his free hand, which prompted the attendant to speak. "And a petty rascist who would disrespect an honored guest of Horza isn't worthy of my city's splendor. Guards, take this man to the half-elf ghetto and strip him of his entitlements."

As the elf was escorted out by the halberdiers, the Governors smiled at the Guildmaster and made a few more gestures, prompting his attendant to speak again. "My apologies for such rude behavior in my Office. I am the Governor of Horza, and this gentleman is my translator. I can tell from your appearance that you're a Guildmaster from up north. What brings you to my fine city?"

OOC: Sorry buddy. Probably to be honest I'm too busy to be in this RP, but I'm trying anyway, so that might well not be the last time that happens.

IC:
"Why should we pay you to take us somewhere? If your authorities believe diplomatic relations with other nations are important, someone should be here to direct us where we need to go without attempting to fleece us; if they do not, we will find our own way, and the more time is wasted the more difficult negotiations will be when we do reach our destination."

Ignoring the shyster in front of him, the Commodore turned to his magician and his guards, and said simply "Come on."

They filed down the gangplank and set off to find someone in authority.

"Our government is highly decentralized, Commodore. The power is divided into over a dozen pieces, and that's not even counting the colonies. Everyone with influence here will claim to have what you want, but I know who actually has it." The mage's eyes then narrowed. "And so long as you only want from us and offer nothing, I doubt even the Fat Man would see you, and his insights are free!"

"Our government is highly decentralized, Commodore. The power is divided into over a dozen pieces, and that's not even counting the colonies. Everyone with influence here will claim to have what you want, but I know who actually has it." The mage's eyes then narrowed. "And so long as you only want from us and offer nothing, I doubt even the Fat Man would see you, and his insights are free!"

The Commodore turned to respond "We can offer much, to those willing to assist; and amongst the best coin in the Dolthiac Ocean or the Middle Sea is Incognitian goodwill. Because when there is trouble, if it is with us, goodwill can see a dispute that would have led to war smoothed away; if it is with others then it can see Incognitian ships and men fighting beside you where there would have been none.
If you had both the political savvy and the public-spiritedness you claim, you would have realised that yourself.
As it is, you have squandered it for yourself with a grasping demand for petty cash; you should hope for the Confederacy's sake that some of your fellow citizens are less petty."

Turning to his guards, he said "Lead on. I thought our merchants were bad, but at least they are prepared to provide assistance in trivial matters without money-grubbing."

OOC: Seriously, this smacks to an Incognitian eye of corruption; merchants are generally a lot more relaxed about it, to them paying for information is a way of life; but Naval Officers are quite unbending over it - public service, not personal profit.

Capida

"You can rest assured, there are none in Capida more petty than the Mages. I think it's because my master an his associates disrupt their monopoly... And that they don't try to con you into paying for an audience." The young man who slipped out of the crowd wore dyed black leather under a silken dark red cloak, purple fabric visible along his legs where the leather didn't cover. "Although he doesn't hold a political office, my master does hold some influence if you would see him."

The mage rolled his eyes at the newcomer and wandered into the crowd. "I suppose if Incognitions are the types to consort with demons, your master should get along fine with them."

"Governor" He said, bowing his head slightly as he felt thats all a title such as that deserved from a GUildmaster(GUildmaster FYI basically A Governer and a General. also excels in his particular skill) "I fear, I bring that which is not a good omen, on may way here I saw your native beast men, rising and I fear it has touched your lands quicker then expect, My ship has been tasked with the duty to seek out every and all empires possible, and warn them of thr forecoming perils" he paused for a second "A great evil has been freed from a tomb, with it, the darkness of this world have began to rise across our fair land beasts and wild men grow more bold by the passing week, and traders bring reports of darkclouds on the move, and gathering of forces, I am merely a messanger for Azral in this matter" He waited for the mans reply and added
"Basically, something is stirring and we have come to warn you"

Capida

"You can rest assured, there are none in Capida more petty than the Mages. I think it's because my master an his associates disrupt their monopoly... And that they don't try to con you into paying for an audience." The young man who slipped out of the crowd wore dyed black leather under a silken dark red cloak, purple fabric visible along his legs where the leather didn't cover. "Although he doesn't hold a political office, my master does hold some influence if you would see him."

The mage rolled his eyes at the newcomer and wandered into the crowd. "I suppose if Incognitions are the types to consort with demons, your master should get along fine with them."

"We will see him, and I thank you. Though I would appreciate it if you could explain what our erstwhile interlocutor meant about consorting with demons?"
At this, the commander of the Commodore's guards looked alarmedly to the magician, who mouthed the commands of a spell to seek out magical illusions and shatter them. He didn't think it'd do anything, but it calmed the guard captain, and that was to the good.
Meanwhile the guards re-arranged themselves around the Commodore as though to follow this new stranger.

Dolthiac Ocean

"Stop!" Skalk shouted again. The human was shouting some nonsense about honor... but he was also telling them to stop, blowing that shrill whistle.

Kher, amidst the fighting, noticed the humans had drawn back into a line backed by archers. A tough formation, but you could still get in, get behind, go over. The halberds posed the greatest threat, with their extra reach. Have to watch for those.

She gripped her weapon but... all the shouting of 'stop,' now from both sides, told her all she needed to know. She relayed the command, seeing how she was now the leading mercenary.

She heard the trader captain call to the other ship:

"Is there honor in trying to kill us, then?"

Asush

OOC: I'm assuming silver is the most used, basis of most coinage, as it was in ancient and medieval times. So silver pieces. It depends on the economy of Eldire and all... so ah, whichever one makes more sense from an IC perspective. ;)

"Silver," said Vhor. "But as I said, negotiation is to be expected once the details are discussed. Particularly with operations such as this, involving more than one contracting mercenary groups."

"Now," he went on, changing the subject seemingly casually, "What is this you say of an orc leader?"

Capida

The man's appearance did not change after the magician cast his spell, although scrutiny would reveal that the fingers of his gloved hands came too far out and to too fine of points, and that the man had the smell of strong perfume about him. "My master is an acolyte of a lesser demon of the temptation hierarchy, as is legal in the Confederacy so long as such worship doesn't threaten the Isles, her colonies, or, as the case is with you and yours, her honored guests. If you still wish to see him, you may take whatever precautions you feel comfortable with if you don't think the protection of Procan law is enough. The Guild man was hoping to scare you into favoring him, which is why he mentioned it."

Horza

The Governor waved a dismissive hand before gesturing, his attendant mirroring the Governor's assuring smile as he spoke. "The minions of destruction are being kept well in check, Guildmaster. Our diviners saw this coming when you could still count the demon's followers on one hand. We are already taking action to bring down an orc warlord that has risen to the occasion... pardon the pun."

Asush

Gavin nodded, pondering as he referenced his sheet. "My counteroffer is coming after the explanation of the orc leader. As you may or may not have heard, there is a demon lord on the rise, in the far north. This has given rise among the savages in the Unknown West. Most are containable, but our scrying reveals an orc shaman with the might of a warlord, possibly a servant of the demon lord itself. This has given rise to lesser warlords seeking to prove themselves greater, such as in the Steppes. It's how we're trying to get Hospitlar involved: Once this warlord is defeated, the lesser hordes lose their motive and revert to the status quo of infighting normal for their race. At present, the shaman is overtaking lesser warlords south of Procan territory, but pressing north. If we time it right, we'll only have to worry about one or two lesser warlords to engage before the main horde, which we can scatter with an assassination before the battle. Is there anything else you'd like to know, or shall we get to negociating?"

OOC: Copper would have gotten you the deal with no negociation and gold would have made Gavin walk out since militia could be trained for less.

"A... demon lord," Vhor repeated, nodding very slowly. He took note of it and made sure to investigate, although it sounded suspiciously like silly warmblood mythology to him. "I have heard reports of unusual resistance amongst the slave rac... the slave tribes," he corrected quickly.

"Very well, let us hear your counter-offer."

"So you claim to think, they may be kept in your neck of the woods so to speak, but what goes on here is only a small portion from what happens around our world,This...Daemon which was released is no ordinary creature, it pleadges its fealty to one god, one whos name is forbidden to be spoken, This..God is one of mighty power, and if ever is brough to this world, or its power in force we should all fear, this Daemon knight We do not know what it seeks, but what we do know, is that all evil in this world is beckoned by it, summoned to it and it wont belong before his might reaches this land in serch of what he wants" Pausing for breth he continued "This is but a word to the wise, be prepared" With that, he bowed to the Govenor slightly and prepared to leave.

Asush

"Seven silver a day, forty per battle, and we'll pay for the rations and equipment repairs."

Horza

The Governor waved goodbye, gesturing a bit before returning to his throne. "Be sure to keep your guide nearby. If that elf gets out of the ghetto quickly, he may try to seek vengeance, but he won't if there's a citizen witness."

"9 silver per day," he countered. "For I have my doubts about the necessary length of this excursion. And if as you say, there is a formidable orc leader you will need our help for the duration."

Shurging a elaborate Dwarven shurg, a true master peice of meh'ly'ness He walked outside, and looekd around for the lboy, he would of thought of him of little if it wasnt for the fact they were equal in height.

The Imperial Mariners were the pride of the new Imperium’s military supremacy. Most of their vessels operated as both naval war machines and trade ships, decimating foes and looting the fallen of goods that would be sold back to the mainland. Their ships were among the finest ever built, specially crafted by the elves of Quelthonas and manned by men and women who had trained their entire lives to master the seas. Though the vessels were well armed and well crewed, the most frightening aspect of the Mariners came in their Vyksoldat sub-division. Death cults of warriors from the Frozen Peaks along the Icing River were recruited to serve for the most vicious force in the Middle Sea. Pelted in wolf skin, bare of armor, and fueled by their rage; they were a lightning fast ensemble of raiders meant to destabilize the enemy with hit and run assaults while the main naval force decimated enemy encampments with siege warfare.

The I.M.V Eleron sailed along side three other ships in its small fleet that had been tasked on a mission into the Middle Sea. Its sister ships, the I.M.V. Salluran and the I.M.V. Heiarstar were smaller than the Eleron, but they were designated as swift transport ships to be protected by the main battleships like the I.M.V. Kristaph that flanked the shuttle boats. The men aboard the transport ships could be seen on deck painting themselves with strange symbols and performing rituals for favor from their heathen gods. Though to a stranger who had never crossed the Terithans, they would appear at first glance to be no more than crude barbarians. On the battlefield, however; these hundreds of men would be organized into the most competent death squads in the realms. Indeed an invasion was in the making.

Captain Grodingson stood atop his pearch on the I.M.V. Eleron. His royal blue uniform jacket blew in the wind over the whites of his trousers and officer’s vest. His matching blue officer’s hat was tucked under his right arm, allowing the golden locks of a southern born Terithan to flow freely in the wind. The ocean around him seemed teeming with a tension that foretold of the battle to come. His invasion force had been cut to short numbers due to rumors of war in the north that had quickly spread along the Terithan trade routes. An uprising in the troll detainment colony to the west had not made their situation any the better. Still Grodingson was an effective leader and he trusted the men under his command to promise results. He was tasked with simple mission after all. The small island designated by the Imperial Mariners as Eldenway was an important staging point for increasing the Imperium’s influence in the south, and it had been selected by the Emperor to be humbled by the might of his Mariners and their naval vessels. The barbarians inhabiting the island had insulted the Imperium time and again with their poor business ethics. The Emperor had a habit of teaching uncivilized swine manners after all. The tribes would be a simple quarry.

“Prepare for our deployment and man the canons.“ Captain Grodingson instructed his Chief Officer. “Ready the Vyksoldat. We should reach the island within an hour.”

OOC: The island we're invading is that chain just off the north west of Prazinia, so there might be some missionaries there that are about to be turned into meat chunks. :P

The Darter was of that type of ship, only lately coming to be known as a frigate.
She was, as was usual for most of the Incognitian Navy out of port, on a patrol against piracy. This time it was because more buccaneers than usual had been reported from the North-west of Prazinia...clearly the Holy Empire, never much for sea-trading in the first place, had cut back even the initially low presence in the area to focus on their Crusade.
Well, Incognitian traders got everywhere, and this wasn't all that far from the main clockwise Incognitia-Ithilar-Proca-Angermanland-Incognitia route, so a lot of merchantmen passed nearby.
Darter's sister ship Dasher was alongside her; the rest of the Squadron was patrolling further south, along the Prazinian coast.
They were sailing north, to check a few coves for pirate vessels, when the lookout on Darter, a little advanced from Dasher, spotted
"Sail off the starboard bow!"
It was obviously too distant to make out details, but out of caution both frigates cleared for action. It didn't do to be too unprepared...
A few minutes later, word came down of three more ships, all in company, off the starboard bow. Then they could be discerned as more like warships than merchantmen...then the glint of weapons on the decks was spotted.
The question was, who were they? Not the Anj, clearly...the ships were wrong. Not Prazinia - going in the wrong direction, and they were on crusade. Not Ithilar...these were ships of men, not the mechanes. Not Proca. And definitely, definitely not Ssek.
Then one man on Darter remembered a tale he'd heard in Angermanland, of the proud, cruel barbarians who lived to their north and east. Men who claimed supremacy on the seas, and who lived by pillage. Men who were held directly responsible for the loss of several merchant vessels travelling the northern seas. Word spread almost instantly, as it is wont to do on board ship: Vinlanders.
Some believed there was no such people; that the trading ships that went missing had merely been struck by freak storms, or sea-monsters.
But some traders had come home and told how they had evaded, from a distance, a menacing but unfamiliar-looking ship.
In any case, the Assembly had gone so far as to declare that "if such a nation as Vinland exists, which point is still in doubt, though our Angermanni allies accept their existence; they are to be considered as in a state of undeclared war with Incognitia. Having disrupted trade, and obstructed Incognitian citizens from the freedom of the seas; having committed piracy on a grand scale; they are to be destroyed as pirates. Any holding an Admiral's Commission are called upon to destroy this menace when found on the High Seas, in accordance with the Law of the Sea."

So there was no option. They were outnumbered two to one, but they would have to fight. The mage mouthed the commands and sent a report to the squadron commander, but he was too far south to come to their aid before this encounter was over.
The tension level rose palpably; the two frigates swept across and a little downwind towards the Vinlanders, and the guns were run out. Each frigate carried 30 guns; 10 heavy, ship-killers, five on each side...the remainder for destroying rigging, and sails, and men. They would start firing as soon as the ship-killers were in range, and try to maintain the range.

Ssan, the Ssek Empire
Royal Palace

Ssloi had dragged that human many leagues, bound and while not resisting, not exactly cooperating either. No matter; he'd made it to the City, and sent word to the king's men of his arrival... and his package.

He was rewarded as promised, remarked on for having done so by himself, and politely demanded to explain his captive. There were reasons to believe this one might know something. Ssloi waited while the guards took his prisoner away. Then they came back for him, hours later, and so he found himself in the Royal Palace, awaiting the King.

Ssonak looked tougher than he'd imagined. He swept into the room efficiently but silently. He had an aura of threat about him. His power was hardly absolute, but it was enough so that Ssloi had no thoughts of disloyalty or attempting trickery.

"You are the Warrior who brought us the Prisoner; you are congratulated for your efficiency," said the king, "And, I hope you are rightfully rewarded."

It was almost a question. Ssloi merely kept his head high, neck exposed; the way to show non-threatening and, in this case, subservience.

"It turns out, there is more going on in the West than previously thought. War is coming, yes, and now more than ever must the Empire remain united in thought and action. Our enemies are many, and from within as well as without. But no matter. We shall overcome them. You are to take one hundred of my Warriors and go back West immediately."

Ssloi couldn't help but feel a jolt of shock. 100 warriors, under his command? It was a lot for a mere mercenary as him... but you didn't refuse this man. "I comply, Excellence."

"Your orders are to perform a reconnaissance-in-force, and to specifically capture a barbarian Human chieftain who possesses a very fine dagger. Bring both chieftain and dagger here. You will find reinforcements, two hundred and fifty, at a fortified outpost located 50 leagues beyond the Empire's border. My agent will guide you and is a Magus of the 1st Rank, so you should not be getting lost. That is all."

That is all, Ssloi thought with astonishment. A 1st Rank Magus, a hundred Warriors... possibly 350 if he wanted...

His astonishment wore off as he began to contemplate just what lay ahead. A long, difficult task, fraught with danger, leading more men than he'd even signed up with in decades...

I better find that Magus.

--

Late that evening a hundred Warriors mobilized and headed north and west, along the coast road toward the border. They moved quickly, kept the pace up, and were soon departing from the Ssek civilization proper.

"Is there honour in trying to kill us then?"

"No. It was a mistake; an accident. Sometimes these things happen when two groups of soldiers come together in one place.

While we know it does nothing to bring them back, we offer compensation for those who have died, to go to their families, and also to those who have been wounded, as a sign of good-will."

He was going on a wing and a prayer here, assuming the Captain would back him up afterwards...he did have a discretionary stash of gold, meant for buying up slaves to free them...and being known as the one responsible for starting an open war with Ssek that no-one really wanted wouldn't do wonders for the man's career.

Aboard the Far Ranger

Skalk hesitated at what sounded suspiciously like a bribe... but it seemed meant earnestly enough, and it looked like it all started as an accident.

Besides, he didn't care much for the concept of honor. Not enough to die for it, certainly. Still, four dead...

"Come aboard," he called to the officer. The mercenaries relaxed their knotted poses - just a tiny bit, but it was noticeable enough. He had no doubt that they would and could spring into combat at the first sign of motion, though.

"Then let us see, human... what price you would assign Ssek lives."

"Ah, for the full negotiations, my Captain will have to be involved."
He called back to the Lady's Laugh for the Captain to come over.
Seeing that fighting had stopped, at least for now, the Captain did just that. On arrival, he sent Philips back to the ship.

"I fully agree with my Lieutenant about the fact that we should compensate you for the loss of your crewmembers; it is after all our men who attacked you mistakenly, rather than the other way around.
Lacking a scale for such payments, as they aren't exactly regular, I would suggest the same value as the equivalent number of slaves - the only other example I am aware of, of putting a value on a human life.
According to the Naval Purchase Scale, that would be" swiftly counting the casualties "thirty Incognitian pounds. A handsome sum."

OOC: No idea what an exchange rate would be, but a pound is a gold coin; a labourer or sailor's wages will be measured in the single figures of pounds per year.
EDIT: Also I did state, I believe, that the Navy pays less for the slaves they confiscate than the price they usually fetch in slave markets.

ooc: I wonder where Golugan sneaked off ta

"Their families would be insulted," Skalk said, quietly. "These were able seamen, not slaves. You can surely do better, Captain."

"Well, of course I do have to consider squaring this with my superiors...there are doubtless some amongst them who would rather we sank your ship and destroyed all the evidence, than pay you any compensation whatsoever."

"We, however, wish to deal with this as civilised men, not barbarians, and I suppose there is one other scale which might apply in this case."

"There has been, from time to time, an arrangement of pensions for the families of sailors who die in battle. It is traditionally an annuity, but of course, at the 'Change there is a value set on everything, and one can buy such an annuity for a lump sum."

"So, from my recall of the list, as it stood in the last Pirate War, we are looking at a total of...hmmm, let me see now...."
He removed a slide-rule from his pocket, and slid it up and down a little.
"Eighty pounds and ten shillings, which, split five ways, is sixteen pounds and 2 shillings each."
"And that, Captain, I am afraid is my final, closing offer. Any more would cause an uproar when I was forced to report it to their Lordships at the Admiralty."

"It will have to do. I comply," said Skalk, making a gesture with his hands to emphasize his point. The Ssek so rarely gestured amongst themselves, but he was a merchant used to interacting with warmbloods. He found himself gesticulating often enough now that he wondered if, when he retired, he might stop.

Not far by, with the remaining mercs, Kher shifted her grip on the halberd. Watching. It made Skalk uncomfortable... he'd always kept mercenaries to protect the ship, but never before had they actually had to engage in battle, and he could sense their strange, Warrior thoughts criticizing his reasonable and calm actions.

"I do have one question," he addressed their captain. "You were searching for citizens of your country? I know of slavers, and they would never go through the trouble. Primitives of the Unknown West and the Barbarian Lands - much closer, easy to tame, no politics. So what would you have done if we had been a slave ship, and there were human slaves aboard?"

"We would have taken them. All of them. If necessary we would have temporarily commandeered your ship to get the slaves back to port.
Having done so, we would have given you nominal compensation and sent you on your way.
I know we said Incognitian citizens...but it has long been traditional to consider all who are both able and willing to swear a binding oath not to work against the Incognitian Republic to be partial citizens of the Republic.
Few are the sentients who will refuse freedom in return for a simple oath; any others tend to be taken along for the ride, and deposited outside the Republic, where they may do what they will. Our resources are limited, and our ships cannot be everywhere, but we do what we can to prevent the foul trade in sentient life.
Many Captains would prefer to take off the slaves then sink the ships found carrying them, or simply free the slaves to turn on their captors, but such things tend to lead to diplomatic incidents and end the career of the individual concerned."

The Captain scrawled a note on a piece of paper, and sent one of the Marines back to Lady's Laugh to take it to Lieutenant Phillips.
Shortly afterwards, the Lieutenant appeared, carrying a fairly hefty box; this contained the agreed price, and in favour of good commerce, Incognitian currency was of good, regular weight and composition - the price would not be shorted.

Skalk slowly nodded in response to the Captain's answer.

"You are commendably reasonable, Captain," he said when the hefty box of gold arrived. "As is your lieutenant. You have my sincerest wishes that we do not meet any other ships from your navy on this voyage."

Two Ssek sailors came to take the container aboard the bloodied deck of the Far Ranger. The mercenaries retreated, but for one who came to Skalk's side. She spoke in very accented and sibilant common to the two officers:

"Some of your Warriors need discipline," she hissed, and then left.

Skalk shrugged, not disagreeing with the sentiment, and spoke his goodbyes to the two men.

"Well, I can't say I'm glad things came out this way, Philips."
"No sir. We could hope for better; two lost marines, and £80 down, all for a momentary error."
"At least we stopped it before we killed them all, I guess. We couldn't keep it hidden, not having lost men of our own, and they might only be lizards but they're still living creatures."
"Yes, the Admiralty would know, and the Ssek would have found out eventually. At least you go home without being the man who started a war with Ssek."
"True enough. I'll make up the short-fall of the coffers myself, I think. Still got that money from the prizes on the last Middle Sea run we did."
They watched as the Ssek ship disappeared in the distance.

"Oh well. I happen to disagree with that lizard warrior...our Marines are extremely disciplined, what was lacking in this case was their decision-making."
"Probably true. Jenkins is one of the dead, isn't he? Yes...and he was the one that kicked it all off, wasn't he? At least we won't have to ruin someone else's career, and his family will still get the pension."
"Think we can swing Adcock as having been promoted to corporal en voyage?"
"Probably. I'll get the purser to look into the paperwork; he was a good man, his wife deserves that much at least."

Asush City

Vhor's contacts came through, with relatively painless negotiations and compromises. Four companies of Mercenaries would be hired with Confederacy coin and orc blood.

A note found its way into Gavin's hands by way of messenger on foot. Written in common, thankfully saving Gavin the cost of a translation.

Four hundreds and two tens of Warriors raised.
Ready to leave city along coastal road at confirmation.
Warrior-in-Charge appointed and ready.

-Vhor