The Vraenor Empire

[AceSorcerer]

Out of Character: CLOSED SIGNUPS - The Vraenor Empire OOC
Sign-Ups: CLOSED SIGNUPS - CHARACTER INDEX - The Vreanor Empire Sign-Ups​

[fieldbox=Kieran Gareth Throauldr, purple, solid, 12, book antiqua]
The horns sounded in the air as steel met steel, each force working to mete out victory.

The invaders were clad in blue steel, wielding black coffin shields in addition to blight blades and dark spears, there pikes atop which solid red flags flew in the distance- the ensign of the Imperial Army. Despite the panicking defenders that sprawled about after the breach of the wall, the utter dominance and brutal efficiency of the Imperial soldiers was a sight to behold. From the lowest infantrymen to the great battlemages, all knew their own place in the grand strategy, forming coherent cells that kept from harming women and children, yet cutting down all who opposed them.

Behind each strike was the collective vengeance of years of exile and shame, fueled by righteous anger and rage of a dominion that had hidden beyond the scope of kingdoms for the longest of times. It was the wrath of the Vreanor Empire.

In this world, Aklavion, upon the continent Lirin, there was a time where there existed only clans and fledgeling states. The concept of magic was but a mere myth, and there was known only the Bright Lord (also called the One), the deity revered by the people. However, some other Also believed in the Eight,the two belief systems eventually merging into one, the Eight eventually being acknowledged as of being similar divinity, but not being gods themselves, but that was after a great debate brought about crusades long after the sentencing of our subjects.

As cities were first built, the Vraenor- a people of the plains- constructed a simple city known a Beo. It featured thriving districts, a respectable chapel, an amphitheatre, and perhaps their greatest achievement- an early observatory, wherein they began to chart the stars and their changes with the season. This was but the first of many sciences the Vraenor would dive into, but it was that which started them on their path. In time, this led to what was perhaps the most important of this, accidental or not- magic.

The first mage was said to be an elder named Maurus the Wise, and he took his knowledge to his colleagues at the observatory, leading to the formation of the first mage-council- the Oraculum. Three by thirteen made up its initial numbers, the group taking extensive notes and conducting brave and necessary experiments to determine the very nature of magic, later seeking to spread their discoveries with the outside world.

Acting in the name of the Bright Lord, an ancient people known as the Naskans created an alliance with most of the other ancient peoples. Their purpose- to purge these teachings that threatened their understanding of divinity, or so the Naskans would say. Most did see magic as some form of threat, but those who did not follow the Bright Lord didn't stake their faith on this endeavor.

As such, it was not long until the city of Beo was razed to ground and reduced almost completely to rubble. All but three members of the Oraculum were rounded up and executed, the others only going undetected due to hiding below ground. The three survivors took as many copies of their research as they could, as well as the transcripts of other various other works, before the Vraenor were forced out of what remained of their land before that nightfall with the Alliance forces close on their heels.

The people of Vraenor followed the Great River, which was three leagues across at its widest point, eventually feeding into the western oceans. Following this river, the exiled peoples found their way into the northwestern mountains and plateaus, half-frozen and embroiled in eternal maelstroms. When they could go no further, the alliance forces erected a Great Wall in order to keep the Vraenor confined to their region of the world, preventing their seemingly heretical arcane knowledge from spreading to the other ancients.

However, those who followed the Eight saw magic as a way to come closer with their deities, claiming the knowledge they recovered from the ruins of Beo, as well as some of the Vraenorans' medical research, as their own. As the clerics of the Eight began to turn magic into a meditative martial art, the followers of the Bright Lord confronted their supposed allies and challenged the followers of the Eight to battle, while those excluded from the combat remained stationed upon the Great Wall. This came to be known as the First Crusade.

It took many years, but upon the end of the crusade the two faiths merged into one. As the Crusade brought it to be known the Eight were subservient to the One, the deity status of the Eight was replace with that of demigods. But, with such rushed merging of ethics, a much more reckless practice of magic came with it, bringing about a golden age of peace and prosperity without looking further into that which brought it to them. In time, this knowledge of a great golden age reached the secluded Vraenor as many exiles joined the lost peoples, and the people scattered about as a silent mission arose to create the greatest means of arcane mastery.

Over a hundred years would pass before there would be any signs of unification, all while more exiles were forced to join the disjointed Vraenor as they were thrown from the Wall.

It was the mage Gareth, a practitioner of what would come to be known as as "dark magic," an arcane school that utilized not only the element of darkness, but the raw energy of unfettered magic. This could only be used by mages who were either innately attuned to magic or were great students of it. For, you see, magic is controlled by will, and it is seen that some bloodlines seem to have a great predisposition for magic than others. Of course, any person can cast a basic spell- such as conjuring an ember to light a stove or fire- with some practice. Likewise, whereas some mages can command magic by will alone, many mages require the use of matrices and evocations to cast spells and channel energy. These matrices were borrowed from the potion-making alchemists, with some mages having their customized matrices tattooed onto their hands. However, evocations were first discovered by speaking the ancient words of power combined with will. These evocations are where the common concept of a spell comes from. Also of importance was the channeling of the will. Some did this best through their own hands, others through the aids of wands and staves, crystals, and metals in addition to the ancient runes. Many of these combined to making conduits of magic, like arcane staves and swords used by a battlemage. But most important of all, was the discovery that magic requires the energy of the caster. Each spell drains the caster's stamina, tiring them, although there was one way around it- crystals. Some precious gems and crystals were discovered to be natural storehouses for magic, so mages fashioned these into rings and bracelets and other accessories, even putting them in their weapons as a means of enchantment.

Of course, Gareth did not make these discoveries, but he did improve on them during his lifetime. He founded a sect of dark mages called the Glimrel, teaching of strengthening the flesh to match the will and the power of meditation to achieve true potential. Gareth's first disciple was the dark elf Olvana (whom he would later wed), a woman most talented with summons and illusions. In addition, Gareth divided into areas of definitive studies known as "schools," and beginning to preach for the regulation of "sects," groups of mages that study similar schools or research similar topics. In time, with these teachings, he came into conflict with the rulers of the scattered settlements and towns, eventually challenging them each to some sort of challenge and becoming overlord to each of these rulers.

There lies much more in the tale of Gareth, but perhaps the most important chapter is that wherein he founded the great citadel, a place for great research and a place where he could govern those whom he had forced into submission. As such, he was named Gareth the Great, and the people raised to the imperial purple, proclaiming him Emperor and Overlord, Master of All Vraenor. There in the northern edge of Netherium, near where the lights touch the earth, they build a grand castle, one for their emperor and his progeny. The stones that built it were white and blue, blending in with the natural scenery of the snowy northwest. In the spirit of knowledge, the tallest spire of the castle was made an observatory, a place of learning and knowledge.

As he was not an unfair ruler, Gareth's first decree was the building of the Arcanum Magnus, a great university of magical and scientific knowledge, as well as the building of an Assembly, a place where those who spoke for their people could address their concerns and worries. Next, the emperor established the imperial military, consisting of the Imperial Army, the Imperial Navy, and the Imperial Marines. They also established a sect known as the Kendov- a fraternity of mages who chose to serve in the empire's military. These battlemages were regarded as men of honor and leadership, often serving as officers in the imperial forces.

Once wind was heard of this new empire, there was an attempt from the sea to end it, but this failure was never brought to light for the sake of stubborn pride, as the fact that the land that attempted to do so no longer exists in this modern world.

But still, time passes.

Generations came and went, and soon one of the pale- those humans who have distinct dark elf blood in their veins- was born to the imperial family. The eldest of four, he was named Kieran Gareth Throauldr. He was born with hair white like the moon, and eyes like sapphires. In his youth he found kinship with a young squire, who would later serve as his right hand and the commander of his armies. From a young age, his arcane prowess was visible, and as such he was trained in the ways of dark magic. As it is with every monarch, he stood alone after some time, having lost his parents and siblings to plague and poison. Needless to say, examples were made and lessons were learned.

Bring crowned younger than most, Kieran ascended at twenty-five years of age, after the poisoning of his mother, the last family he had left. Over all of his years he had kept true to the teachings of the dark mages- strengthening the body and mind, creating a proficiency for the use of only will, although he did keep a citrine crystal with the rune of stars engraved upon it, wearing it like a necklace or attached to his cloak.

Such as it was now, shining as he cut down his foes. He wore a mandarin collar tunic beneath a thin set of blue steel armor similar to what his soldiers wore. A recent crusade had taken soldiers away from the wall, giving the Vraenorans the chance to test their newest military technology- gunpowder- as they brought the massive stone structure to rubble. The Vraenoran spymaster- one Lucretia le Torneau- created a quick network, allowing for the swift invasion and conquest of the city-state Ildir.

A firestorm raged as the power of magic was on display, the emperor fighting his way through the central fortress where the lord of the city lived. Heavily defended as it was, it was no match for a good strategy. The orders of the emperor were clear- kill no innocents, but defeat all who oppose you. There were small pools of blood everywhere as the army worked with brutal efficiency, the lord himself wielding a longsword that pieced the hearts of any foe who stood in his way, doing so until there was but one man- the lord of the city- who stood in his way. With some of his soldiers at his back, the dark mage raised his left hand, electrocuting the man with great prejudice before dropping him to the ground and lopping off his head, kicking it to one of the soldiers before sheathing his sword and taking a seat in the vacant, oaken throne. He then looked to his soldiers, a small smirk on his face as his commanding bass echoed throughout the room.

"Mount that head on a spike and clean up the remnants. The battle is over- Ildir is now the sovereign territory of our glorious empire! If you find any nobles or officials, bring them to me- we've much work to do."
[/fieldbox]

 

[Dipper]

Arterion Landrak
Lord High General
​

The sky above Ildir burned.

Such was the way of things. The state was among the first to be consumed by their Empire's hunger, its streets running with the blood of any who opposed their forces. Where the blood did not flow hid the denizens; weak, trembling, and wholly innocent. The Lord High General gave them one look to send them back into their holes before returning to the battle at hand.

Iron buckled and wood splintered under Arterion's blows. Each soldier who came before him was summarily executed with a single swing of his blade, its hefty weight cleaving through their armor with ease. These men had not seen true battle in some time, Arterion could tell. Their technique was abhorrent, their armor untried. Hundreds of year tending to a fallen wall would not have been enough to stand against them.

One of the soldiers attempted to drive a thin dagger into his ribs, only to get a heavy backhand in return. The hit cracked the man's helmet, and sent him sprawling.

Their forces made short work of Ildir's defenses. Into the city center they marched, their shields hefted high and glimmering in the orange light of the burning sky. Dark magic thrummed in the air and, in that moment, Arterion knew the Emperor was close by. He rushed into the great hall of the city's ruler, where he was just in time to watch the man's head fall from his shoulders and hit the ground with a meaty plop-- to that, Arterion scowled, and nudged the head out of his way.

The head was promptly mounted and taken outside to the men stationed by the doors.

"The men are already rounding up the citizens. I can have them brought forth if you wish to make your speech now, my Liege." His tone of voice was playful, but only those who knew him well could detect it. Arterion secured his blade to the hooks on the back of his armor.

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Russell "Slayer" Woods
Vraenor 'Conscript'
​

Despite how strongly this lowly slayer wished to stay out of official imperial affairs and yet here he was sitting atop one of the few sections of this blasted wall that he'd been thrown off of all those years ago. He was surrounded by corpses of the defenders that littered the ramparts and guard posts as he reflected upon it all; the intense amount of magic, the blazes and columns of smoke rising high above. He knew, he knew in the end he wouldn't be able to escape being drawn into this living storm of revenge and it frustrated him to no end. The only part that made the whole situation less annoying was the irony of those thrown from the wall coming back to claim it. Perhaps the world has a cruel sense of humor after all.

Having been 'requested' by those in higher standings within The Vraenor Empire, he had been conscripted into the empire's official military forces. In regards to which specific detachment he'd been assigned to he really didn't know. Kit and skill wise he'd resemble more of an odd hunter of sorts but from his point of view it looks like he was lumped in with the infantry somewhere. Needless to say he stuck out like a sore thumb in his leather armor, green cloak and longswords in contrast to the armored legions encased in fine metalwork. Yet during the battle the man would become a twisting flurry of steel and magic with his two blades and offensive use of Botanomancy; he'd even taken the liberty to patch up a few allied soldiers he'd come across as the fighting died down. While these defenders had been sitting on their asses upon a wall he'd continued to hunt beasts and monsters alike for a living; keeping his senses and skills razor sharp. The Slayer had fought Ettercaps that were fiercer.

As Russell sat there amongst the dead he reached into the nearby corpse's pocket of a young lad, must not have barely been eighteen. There lied a small metal flask splattered with blood on one side and half filled with an ale that smelled of raspberry. He raised the flask towards the dead young man before downing the rest of the drink that was inside. After that he looked out at the aftermath of the battle and began speaking as if the boy still breathed.

"Does your mother know you were up here boy? You think you've made her proud lying dead up here? You stupid boy why did you fight? You let your foolish young pride get the better of you, didn't you?"

It was then that an infantryman approached. "Oi, Slayer. Get off your ass and help herd the rabble." Begrudgingly Russell stood up and placed the now empty blood splattered flask back inside the pocket he'd found it in and shot the infantryman a glare before walking past him; making his way to where the citizens were being corralled.

 

[Akashi]

DARNIC ABERLON
​

The sword was stabbed into a corpse that was alive and warm not so long ago. It was a unique weapon and there was only one person who wielded something like that. His name was Darnic, a fresh Captain in the Imperial Army. His hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, before he pulled it out from the enemy.

His sword was black, but despite that, it was drenched in blood, that much was evident - making it darker red. A sigh escaped his lips, breathing, before he turned around, gazing at the war torn battefield. Ravens had flocked to a few corpse, plucking their eyes and what not. "This all could have been avoided, but I had a feeling that was likely never going to happen."

It could have, yes, there was no doubt in that. The enemy was stubborn and that was their mistake. Their enemy today had fallen. They had more land and territory now. The Vraenor Empire was expanding and growing in power. Darnic's hazel eyes turned back towards his blade, swinging through the empty air with force, followed by some blood from his drenched sword was no longer there.

Sheating his black skullsword, he walked through a narrow path, but that was because of the corpses beneath and around him. His sword and scabbard in his hand, he was clad in a unique, specialized black and silver armor that was also custom made for him. Running his fingers through his raven hair, Darnic was actually going through the war torn area to see if any of the enemy survived.

One did, but he was no longer alive, Darnic made sure of that. One of their own approached the battlemage, or rather, the knight, but he was considered both, due to his fighting style. "Captain, you should probably--" Interrupting the young man, his hazel eyes turned in his direction.

"Yes, yes, I'm heading towards the General to give him my report." Darnic thrived on the battlefield, but knew that the boring part of his job was also important. Something else came to his mind. The citizens were being gathered around not so far away from his location. He could hear a few of their own talking about that.

Instead of seeing the General, he followed the crowd towards the citizen. He knew that he had to worry about his own men as well, but they were ordered to check for anything unusual or specific that would be deemed important to the Overlord or the General himself. If they would find anything, they would get in touch with Darnic, their Captain first.

Eventually, he was walking past the citizens, yet people would glare daggers at him. Some were afraid while others kept quiet. Some retaliated, and some would talk about their sons and husbands being murdered by the Empire. Darnic's hazel eyes squinted, gazing in their direction. It was not surprising. This was also not his first rodeo. He was used to this by now, despite his young age.

Thats when he noticed someone familiar, someone he had seen before. A slayer by the name of Russell Woods. Approaching the man himself, he spoke up. "You're.. You're Russell right? The slayer?"

 

[Bears]

[color= #722f37]THE COUNTESS[/color]

Don't hurt any innocents and don't hurt anyone who might be useful. What an absolute bother.

Cybil strode through the bloodied streets with her chin high and a nasty little sneer contorting her pretty face. The Countess walked with a sway, knowing and owning the fact that her wine-colored dressings exposed an unnecessary amount of skin and curve alike. She held one hand up, her other arm held across her chest and propping it up by the elbow. Magical energy twirled and twitched around her slender fingers, capable in an instant of flaring and setting afire to the old wood of this city.

She wouldn't do anything like that of course because that's what the emperor had asked of her, to hold back, but to say the thought didn't tempt Cybil would have been an outright lie. It would have been so easy, so easy for her to just say that the inn on the corner's combustion was an accident, that a ball of fire had gone astray and spread faster than she or any of the other mages could've reacted.

Her brow grew heavier and her lips pursed together to form a rosied pout at the thought of such a wasted opportunity.

Cybil simply had to be on her best behavior. She wanted Ildir. She wanted it all for herself and a part of her truly believed it was possible. The Empire was not done here and someone would have to look over it all after the invasion. She was a capable woman, an ambitious woman, and so the Countess only indulged in her desire to hurt when it was necessary, she only killed when it became apparent that those before her would not surrender.

Stepping lightly around burnt flesh and bone with a jarring amount of casualness, she approached the central fort at her own cozy little pace, killing soldiers and letting their families run off without chase along the way. Disappointment assumed her expression once she realized that she had missed out on most of the fun, but that face quickly faded into a lopsided smile at the sight of the Vraenor's victory.

Her hands clasped together with delight and the smile that found her was sickeningly sweet.

[color= #722f37]"Well done, my liege."[/color] She cooed, her voice distinct among the crowd that echoed similar sentiments.​

 

[Starlighter]

---

Lucretia le Torneau​

Imperial Spymaster​

---

The songs never tell about the stench. So gloriously putrid, it might even be worth a song of its own.

With a fluffy white handkerchief held delicately over her mouth and nose, Lucretia picked her way down a side street littered with corpses. Blood had ceased to run now that the battle was over, drying and caking in pools and small rivulets stuck between uneven paving stones. All in all, it was rather treacherous footing, particularly if one intended to navigate it without smearing enough remnants of carnage onto one's clothes to appear as if one had partaken in the bloodshed.

After a block or two, she opted to give up on her efforts to remain unbloodied. There was still the hasty shuffle of leather boots against stone streets, the shouting of officers to their men - and the incessant wailing of the defeated. Smoke oozed into the sky at a lazy pace, the fires of battle magic no longer flaming as in the heat of warfare. Instead, there was the euphoric chaos of a secured victory clashing against the desperate hopelessness of resounding defeat.

While Lucretia was not by any means a stranger to the aftermath of brutal death, the scale of it was something rather new to her. She had borne witness to countless mutilated bodies, carved to pieces at the hands of torturers or assassins. But never before had so many riddled the space around her, covering the ground in a mess of flesh, tattered cloth, and squishy, indistinguishable mush.

Best not to wonder what just went splat under my heel, I suppose.

Upon arrival near the city centre, she halted to take in the scene. Soldiers were hard at work searching the area for any remaining officials, and rounding up the last, waning efforts of resistance. Women and children skulked and cowered in broken down doorways, shielding themselves from the surrounding carnage. Rich and poor alike, none were immune to terror.

She turned to one of several personal guards trailing behind her, gesturing for him to step closer - a command which he promptly obeyed. She spoke softly, letting her words be drowned out by the surrounding ambient noise - except to the ears for which they were intended.

"Gather up a few of the stronger innocents and see to it they make it past our forces outside the city; play the part of being on their side if you must. I want 'escapees' arriving in Naskus before nightfall. Ensure word has traveled elsewhere within a few days, and report back on how it is received." My my, how I wonder what the nobles of my dear home Shaodor will think. Positively the talk of the week, I shouldn't wonder. They always did like gossiping about the tragedies of others best.

"Yes, of course." With a slight bow of the head, the guard signaled several of the others, and they melted away in various directions. With three guards remaining, Lucretia continued her trek to the great hall of Ildir's ruling Lord. By this time, she was confident that the Emperor would have made himself comfortable within. Her suspicions were further reinforced by the prominent placement of a head on a pike just outside - a gruesome statement, but a powerful one.

Leaving her three lackeys outside and carefully folding away her handkerchief, she entered the hall with an air of poised, aloof ease. As per her expectations, the Emperor sat comfortably on the throne with the Lord High General already reporting on the state of affairs outside. Tempting as it was to let her gaze wander to him and linger - it was, after all, a pleasant view - carefully practiced indifference held sway, as always. Not for a moment did she waver, casting not so much as a sideways glance at the General and fully ignoring the presence of the Countess, but instead approaching the throne with a moderate curtsy.​

​

 

[FrostedCaramel]

Lynd
Imperial Assassin

---

Lynd walked quietly through a small alley that winded through the city of Ildir. His companions though, they weren't quite as quiet as he would have wished they were. He tugged on the metal wire in his fist, the first man in the line of three grunting as it bit into his wrists a little bit further and stumbling forward to catch up with Lynd, bringing the two men behind him to suffer the same pain and subsequent burst to try and keep the pace Lynd wanted.

"Please, I'll give you anything you want!" the man at the back of the line proclaimed as they were dragged on behind him. He was a pudgy man, no older than forty, but fat and opulently dressed. Nobles. They made their wealth off of those below them, off of those who toiled in the mines or under the hot sun as the Noblemen hunted game with entourages of guards or held elegant parties. Lynd had never quite understood what made a noble "noble" other than the fact they had been lucky enough to have been born into wealth and status. Now when they found themselves on the lowest rung of the ladder, they desperately tried to claw their way back up with the only things they ever knew in the first place.

"Do you want money? Gold? I can get you so much gold you'll never be able to spend it all!" the third Noble exclaimed, his face going red as he became more and more desperate, "Or is it women? You want the most beautiful women you've ever seen? Could ever imagine? I can get them!" the third Noble seemed to stutter in his step before quickly falling back into line, "Or... Or do you want a man? I can do that too! I can get a man.. or a boy..! If it suits your needs! Just release me!" the Noble exclaimed.

Lynd stopped.

The first Noble abruptly coming to a halt as to not run into the cloaked and masked man leading them. The other two Nobles were not quite as quick and ended up walking into the first, causing him to stumble forward slightly.

Lynd watched them through his completely cover face, the glow of the fires coming over the buildings surrounding them creating an odd glow in his goggles as he did. He simply stared at the third Noble, contemplating whether or not he should kill him here or at the feet of the Emperor. It was obvious he would never be subservient to Vraenor, to the Emperor. They had no need for a Nobleman that refused to accept the movement of forces greater than himself. Fate itself had given Vraenor the day, and yet still, this Noble refused to accept the cards he had been dealt. As if there were some way he could simply walk away from it all and start somewhere new. Somewhere that Vraenor wouldn't ever make it to.

Lynd tied the wire to his belt and walked back to the third Noble. The mans eyes watched him as he took out one of his short swords, "Raise your hands so I can cut you free." he said, his voice muddled by the mask in front of his mouth.

The noble happily obliged, raising his bound hands up to chest level for Lynd to cut the wire, "Thank y-", the Noble began to scream and flail wildly as he stumbled away from the wire, the cleanly cut edges of his lower forearms spraying blood rhythmically as he fell to the ground.

Without finishing the Noble as he lay in the dirt, Lynd made sure that the mans hands were still tightly bound in the wire before turning to the other two Nobles as they looked on in complete shock. He walked back to the front of them and lead them on once more. He didn't have to tug on the wire once the entire rest of the way to the Hall.

He pulled the two men past the small group of soldiers guarding the entrance to the Hall as they chuckled and pointed at the two men while they were strung along, only to begin whispering as they noticed the hands being dragged along a few feet behind them. Lynd didn't pay any mind, soldiers could think whatever they wanted, it was the Emperor's thoughts that mattered here.

He entered the Hall with no more tact than he had had moving through the streets. Quietly, deliberately, but most of all almost unnoticed, except for the fact he had two terrified Nobles strung up behind him. He led them to the Throne of the the Hall where the Emperor sat, stopping to the left of his Spymaster and just slightly behind her. He pushed the Nobles to stand side-by-side before kicking both in the back of the leg to force them to their knees before the Emperor.

 

[Rae]

Morrigan Saval || Duchess of Rynal​

Perhaps it was fitting that the first diplomatic mission that she'd finally earned for herself ended in flames -- quite literally. Duchess Morrigan Saval watched from the guest quarters of Ildir's lord as Vraenor's armies infiltrated the wall, mercilessly slaughtering the soldiers that dared to stand and defend their city-state. She refused to look away even as fire began to burn through flesh and bone, smoke rising in the air with a putrid smell that was all too familiar. She noted how they did not touch the women and children who cowered. How strange.

The battle seemed endless. In reality, the strength and size of Vraenor allowed them to make short work of their pitiful opponents. They soon claimed their victory. Her personal guards, forced to accompany her by her uncle's wishes, burst through the door. "My lady, we must leave at once. The maids just informed us of an escape tunnel." She hardly knew their names, and she already knew they were probably going to die. Still, she admired their courage in trying to get their charge out of the city.

They made it a whole ten steps out of her quarters before the emperor's soldiers found them. Her guards fought valiantly enough, but they died rather quickly. She muttered a prayer under her breath, blessing their spirits to the beyond as best she could. She hoped it was enough. The soldiers looked at her and recognized her status immediately. She expected to die where she stood, but apparently fate had different plans. They grabbed her none-too-gently, moving her forward without a single word. They moved with deadly efficiency, and Morrigan knew well enough to stay silent--for now.

The soldiers led her to the lord's throne room; she did not fail to notice the gruesome head on a pike at the entrance. As she suspected, Ildir's lord was already dead, and Vraenor's emperor sat triumphantly on the throne. Several nobles had already been gathered, and their reactions varied immensely. Some looked ready to piss themselves, if they hadn't already. Others seemed outraged and murderous, ready to rage against the invaders. It was somewhat noble, she supposed. Only a few had the good sense to be silent.

The soldiers finally shoved her forward, bringing her to her knees before the emperor. She bit down whatever anger she felt in that moment, curling her fingers into her alabaster gown. The gears in her head turned as she tried to decipher the game that was being played here. Fear was obviously a factor, and she'd be a fool to not recognize her own. Keeping her head down, she looked at the men and women scattered throughout the throne room. Most were obviously soldiers, possibly of slightly higher rank. As expected, however, the closer her eyes moved towards the emperor, the more important people became.

She noted a woman with raven hair, who seemed awfully delighted by this whole mess. By her manner and dress, she was likely a noble of higher rank--a countess, at least. Morrigan also noticed another woman, but she was not nobility. No, it certainly did not seem so. But the way she carried herself...ignoring her presence would be costly, no doubt. There was a man, masked and silent, holding two nobles by some sort of cord. They were two of the many nobles that could not conceal their terror. Was that mound of flesh at their feet a pair of hands? Morrigan shuddered involuntarily.

Everyone else she took note of had more obvious importance--the emperor's right hand, for instance. It was only after she finished surveying the room that she finally allowed herself to fully gaze at Emperor Kieran. She'd rather hoped that he was ugly, but that never seemed to be the case with these situations. No, the great Overlord of Vraenor was indeed handsome, but that was the least of her concerns. This was the man who had refrained from slaughtering everyone in Ildir. He was also currently the one holding her captive. Morrigan had a tendency to follow her instincts when assessing a person. As she looked at the young emperor, she knew. If she managed to survive this situation, she wouldn't be returning home anytime soon.

 

[AceSorcerer]

[fieldbox=Kieran Gareth Throauldr, purple, solid, 12, book antiqua]
The emperor chuckled as he heard his lifelong friend's tone, putting his hand to his chin before speaking up, giving a wave of his hand that let his Righthand and Lefthand know he was speaking to them both, although he also spoke to the rest of the room indirectly after moving his hand to indicate that the room needed to go silent.

"We will address these officials today, and spread word that I will address the people as a whole tomorrow at noon in the city square. Today we aid in burying the honorable dead, giving them graves and pyres. We must let the people know that we are not merciless, that we are not as evil as the ancient legends would have them think. True, we are still a force to be reckoned with regardless of that fact, but that matters little at the moment. With Ildir underfoot, we have made the first foray into reclaiming our homeland. The next course is to seek diplomacy with Shaodor to see if we can reclaim Beo peacefully. Capable or not, I'd prefer to consolidate our gains before considering a purely militaristic course of action, although the Naskans will never have such mercy- they will suffer the whole brunt of our might so that they may truly face the consequences of their actions."

Then, folding his hands on the small of his back, the emperor stood up, raising his left arm as an arcane staff flew into his hand, the crystal glowing somewhat before he slammed the haft into the stone floor, the echo ensuring he had all the attention and silence of all in the room. He projected an air of authority and command, one befitting his office as the emperor. Looking over the crowd, he made some observations before speaking up, his smirk growing into a polite yet deadly serious smile, chuckling before speaking in his powerful bass.

"To my Vraenoran countrymen old and new, I give you greeting and glad tidings. Today is a momentus day in the history of our empire.

"First I shall say this- all who bend the knee will not be punished. An oath of fealty, a simple matter. Those who comply will be rewarded. Those who refuse... well, you will have no noble title to worry about upholding. With luck, perhaps one of you will be made the new lord of this city once it is fully integrated into the empire. If none of you should prove worthy, I will appoint one of my own to rule this place. A governor pro tem will soon be installed to oversee the transition period, but I hope that will not be for too long.

"Second, know this- all of Ildir will have fair representation in my court and in our great Assembly. Once all have been enrolled into citizenship and the first taxes have been collected, Ildir will receive all the benefits given to imperial cities. Education, infrastructure, and so on. The regular military will be absorbed in Vraenor's own, so if any officer among your armies wish to see it through they should come forward soon, and speak with my Righthand, the Lord High General, Sir Arterion Landrak.

"Soon enough I shall speak to all of you in private and learn of your concerns, your talents, your contributions. I have no room, nor any patience, for those who do not pull their weight. A good lord should not be afraid to fight alongside their men or toil alongside the commonfolk when need be. I ask no more of each of you than whatever I am willing to do or have done myself. It is common sense, is it not? Regardless, I will see as many of you as I can today, but rest assured all judgements will be made fairly. It is clear that an elderly lord can not always ride into battle or take the heat of the field. But, regardless, my point remains. For now, you will be guests until judgements are passed. You will be watched by my agents and soldiers to prevent any treachery. That is all for now- you may wander around as you wish, and speak with me if you so desire. But be warned- any attempt to leave prematurely will have dire consequences. I give you this bit of faith- I trust you are all wise enought not abuse this small kindness. Now go, and speak amongst one another. I will see you all soon."

The emperor then moved, speaking with the Vraenorans. He looked to his loyal spy first, speaking softly in the man's ear after putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You have done well, my subject. Perhaps you shouldn't have literally cut one loose, but it is effective all the same. I'm certain the Madame will have further instructions for you soon, but until then I want you to watch those in this room- keep an eye out for any and all possible threats, and act accordingly. But please- keep the blood and death to a minimum. If violence is needed, attempt non-lethal options for the time being. I look forward to hearing your mission debrief, Lynd."

After a kind squeeze, the emperor spoke to some other native Vraenorans, the Countess included, before he began to speak to his Hands once more after motioning for the Left to join them upon standing next to his Right.

"I do believe Lucretia here has provided us with a dossier on most of the nobles and officials here from what her network found out beforehand. Let's begin with some of the more minor officials, those we can mostly let continue with their work. Otherwise there's one in particular I have a certain... interest in. The elf with the fiery hair, she seems of a different disposition than the others. More noble, perhaps. Ensure that we see her at the end of the day after seeing what we know of her. I don't believe she's from Ildir, and if so there are certain courses of action we can take. These will be, of course, after what debriefings can be made by our commanders and agents."
[/fieldbox]

Interactions: @Dipper @Starlighter @FrostedCaramel
Mentions: @Kimberlyn @Bears

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Russell "Slayer" Woods ​

Vraenor 'Conscript'
​

Widows, mothers, sons, daughters, old men...each demographic took a stab at Russell. "Was the coin worth it sell sword!?" From one aged man and "I pray the gods punish you!" was shouted at the slayer by a lone woman. Russell knew why he was receiving these shouts; he clearly didn't resemble most of the invading force and so people could easily pick him out as a hired blade of sorts and they weren't completely wrong either. But any of who that could do so as the green cloaked man passed by, took out whatever vocal anger they could upon him; most likely thinking they could get away with it more so than one of the emperor's actual men whom for the most part just got cold stares. He'd pay them little to no mind however as he'd heard far worse 'barking' in the past from his own people.

The slayer stopped in his tracks once he was approached by a man outfitted in well crafted metal armor; a man who seemed to know who Russell was it seemed. Of course Russell had no idea who this man was but figured he was an officer due to his equipment and combining that with his appearance there was a good chance he was of some nobility as well. "Aye, that would be me." Russell knew not to bother asking people's names whom smelled of nobility as the last time he did so the bastard scoffed at him about how dare a commoner ask him his name. Fucker probably thought he was some god given gift that everyone should already know.

Without realizing it Russell would scowl as he zoned out at that annoyed memory before remembering where he was; calmly reverting back to his more neutral expression. Before he could even begin to wonder why this officer had approached him; out of the corner of his eye Russell would catch a small pebble in his hand out of reflex. His eyes darted to a nearby alley that had three young boys crammed in it; one of them obviously having just finished throwing something. With a quick step and a flick of his wrist Russell sent the pebble snapping back at the boy who through it as it beamed him right in the forehead. With the one boy responding with a yelp as he rubbed his new pebble shaped bump and the other two looking surprised; all three quickly squired away back down the alley and around the next corner out of sight.

The slayer sighed but followed up with a soft smirk. "I remember when I was that troublesome." Turning back to the assumed officer. "Anyways, did you need me for something? After that one sided bout I can't imagine you've got enough wounded that you're short handed on people who can treat them."

@Akashi

 

[Dipper]

Arterion Landrak
Lord High General​

Arterion greeted the Spymaster with a shallow nod, lips curving into a grin behind his helmet. A compliment lingered on his tongue, but in this company, he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He strode toward the front of the hall so he could better get a look at those the men had brought before them.

Arterion was unwilling to accept any of these men into their ranks, not without wringing out the weak links and running them through the strainer. Their own men had suffered such hardships before gaining rank, and so Arterion was loath to induct them without at least a bit of testing. He wanted to strengthen their forces, not inflate their numbers with useless fodder.

He was quite eager to get started.

"Interesting lot," Arterion muttered, leaning against one of the hall's supporting pillars. He watched as the nobles were brought forth, the elven noblewoman striking him as particularly odd. It appeared that he and Kieran shared the same views toward this foreigner, with a smattering of suspicion on Arterion's part.

Perhaps she was of Shador, but then, why would she be as far as Ildir? It raised many questions, questions Arterion didn't much like in the first place.

More men were brought forth, each with an air of confidence that Arterion respected. Maybe one or two was a Captain, while the rest appeared to be little more than foot soldiers judging by the common armor plates. Noting special. They bore no crest, either. Were these people not the least bit patriotic?

"I will take my pick of the men here," he said. "Any with skill are welcome company."

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Eisen Gustav​

---

As the battle raged and cooled to a mop up operation, the Army of Ildir was all but beaten, from this point on the Garrisons to the outskirts and further away from the Imperial Assault would die pointless deaths. Already losses were significant, the toll in blood had been well and truly paid, even Eisen had seen combat on this day.. While the Vraenor Imperial Army had won this conflict, an official need was to be taken on this, an official blame if need be. While the Imperials were in high spirits for the time being, would that hold up in the face of continued resistance?

Gathering an aide and the traditional White Flag, Eisen leaves his position to offer a Parlay to the Imperial forces, in short order, finding his suspicions were confirmed. The more senior officials and Nobles of Worth seemed to have gone up with that accursed wall when the Vraenorian Devils unleashed their technology, reducing the proud structure to ruin in moments.

The display of the other nobles being brought in was enough to cause the Officer to shake his head in disappointment, being dragged forward and even kicked. While Civilians seemed rather well treated this did not bode well, those still alive might bend the knee, but would they take responsibility? A towering figure, Eisen kept to the back with an escort of Vraenor Guardsmen, unsure what to do with the giant of a man who had the nerve to come here with a Greatsword, demanding a parlay with the Senior Commander in charge.

Making matters more awkward was the fact this all came to pass around the time of the Emperor's Speech. All the while the large man looked nowhere near as Murderous as some of the other Nobles who were upset with the change in affairs. Unlike most of them however Eisen was decked out in full livery, with crest and cloak and the straight standing manner of a man not yet defeated.

Drawing his massive Sword, the escorts were understandably nervous, until the blade was spun, to rest on both out opened palms. It seemed the large man was serious about his rather pointless offer.

Speaking out in a loud and booming voice, the Emperor had given them permission to speak with him, that was all the permission he needed. Drawing a mixed assortment of looks from the other soldiers and Nobles gathered from his own side, Eisen found this situation more frightening than fighting a Dragon, but his resolve was set.

"Your Majesty, Emperor Kieran Gareth Throauldr.. I must congratulate your forces on their brilliant performance and tactics in this battle and I beg your forgiveness, I am but a minor noble and not well versed in matters of the Court... So I shall speak honestly and for those who seem to have lost their tongues." Kneeling down on one knee and presenting his blade before the Emperor and his aids, Eisen lowers his head, not daring to look up.

"I am Lieutenant Colonel Eisen Gustav of the Ildir Army.. Last senior Officer it seems.. I have came to officially surrender our remaining forces that still yet battle desperately.. or rather to surrender on their behalf.."

Pausing for a bit, the large man speaks up once more. "Your Majesty has won a crushing blow, but we Men of Ildir are the remnants of an abandon and forgotten Army, we held our post and stood firm, simply defeating us is not enough. In time we will remember this and will fight on till ordered otherwise. My fellow men of Ildir, remember what we are, Duty, Loyalty, Family and yes, even Country... Live on, our City has flown other flags before and it can do so again, a flag does not make our fidelity."

Drawing his blade single handedly in a quick motion that was sure to startle some, the bear sized man arranges the blade across his neck from the right side. "Should this not be enough, I offer my head as the last of the blood tithe of Ildir. It was us officers who failed our men. I wish to see no further pointless losses to my men, or further bloodshed from them against His Highness. "

Puasing again and twitching his jaw, the older man sighs a bit with a smile on his face followed with a soft laugh.

"Might be a formality at this point but that's all I had to say, if I were to make a request it is that you make good on your speech, Ildir has been lied to before." Steeling himself for the command, it was surely a bizarre display, though an honorable one perhaps. Not flinching with the blade to his neck, the heavily armored warrior at least seemed earnest with his words.

@AceSorcerer @others?

---

(Edits, edits, edits...)

​

 

[Akashi]

DARNIC ABERLON
​

People had lost their home, their country even. Things were about to change for Ildir in a major way. The majority of the citizen of Ildir were not ready to accept the reality, but would have to eventually get around to doing so. Soldiers of the Empire were checking every house, nook or cranny to make sure nothing would be out of the ordinary - but when the enemy was in such a state, what would be considered normal?

Having approached the slayer known as Russell Woods, their conversation came to a stop very quick. Darnic's rather simple, yet serious expression was unchanged. People directing their anger towards the Slayer, while some would still glare daggers at the Captain himself, or curse at him or his family.

Women were weeping, children were clinging to their family, or what was left of them anyway. Turning away, a few children threw pebbles at the Slayer, again catching his attention, though Darnic could see that the situation before them was not to his liking, to Russell's liking, that is.

Returning the pebble back towards the kids, Darnic merely gazed at them. They were bold and brave. To not consider what their enemy would do if they were thrown at the wrong person. Yes, the Silver Knight knew very well how the Imperial Army operated. Remove their enemy from their path, but only those who would bare draw their sword towards the Vraenor Empire.

The children and the women were untouched. Perhaps even now, under a new rule, this country would thrive even more, but would likely attain more enemies. Those who were against Vraenor, would likely end up feeling the same towards the new Ildir. A short smile across his lips, but now, their conversation wouldn't be interrupted. Having a taste of their own medicine, the kids were now gone.

"Bold kids.. I must say."

"And yes, the Imperial Army hasn't had many losses against the Ildirans." Darnic gave him a quick and simple response. There was nothing else for him to say. Yes, there was bloodshed during the war, but mostly from their enemy.

Extending his hand forward, he introduced himself. "Name's Darnic Aberlon. Captain in the Imperial Army." Formality aside, he took a brief pause before continuing.

"I've heard about you before. Some of my men has even talked about you before.." Turning to his side, Darnic looked at the unfortunate sight around him.

"Before this.. But yes, I was surprised to see you here. Some of my men said you were forced to help the Imperial Army. On my way here, it wasn't hard to recognize you. Figured I'd come and meet the slayer himself." Darnic gave him a thorough look. He knew of him, and the description, but that was it.

Close by, some of the Imperial soldiers came running. "Captain.. Captain Aberlon! We've got a problem. Uhh.." The soldier was not sure what to say next. Catching Darnic's undivided attention, and likely Russell's as well, the former asked.

"Well? What is it? Out with it." There were numerous situations going through the noble's head. Could it be the enemy? Could it another army here to help Ildir? Many thoughts ran through his mind, but they were quickly quenched when the soldier again, opened up his mouth.

"A kid.. In a house.. About to get himself k--"

"Stop.." Darnic interrupted him. "Take me there."

"Y--yes!" The soldier bowed his head in response, and had Darnic follow him. "Lets go and have a look, shall we?" Rhetorically, the Captain invited Russell as well. Whatever they were about to see, was likely nothing good.

@BlueFlameNikku

 

[AceSorcerer]

[fieldbox=Kieran Gareth Throauldr, purple, solid, 12, book antiqua]
Kieran turned around when he heard the voice. Truly, this was finally an Ildiran who seemed noble, if not one actually courageous enough to speak and claim responsibility for their actions during the whole of it all. With a look to his general, the emperor quickly drew his sword with his free hand, moving his arm quickly as a small cresent wound appeared on the lieutenant colonel's left cheek before sheathing the blade after flicking the blood on it to the ground before cutting his own hand on the greatsword, squeezing it as he forced blood to drip to the floor. Both wound were superficial, meaning that they would heal over and wouldn't leave any scars. He spoke aloud, addressing the last standing officer and- indirectly- the others who had been too scared to speak up.

"I bleed just as you do, soldier. I am honored by your offer and accept your surrender. The reason I bleed with you is because you are now one of my people- a man of honor who I will in time call my countryman. And a man I believe will be more than capable of the duties assigned to him. These drops of blood that fall onto the floor is a promise that no man, woman, or child will be unjustly harmed, nor any soldier who honorably surrenders. Such has been always instilled into our soldiers, and men like you make it all the more important. Even now, my men seek to engage peace and bury the dead. Even though we were enemies at dawn, it is my hope that we may begin to call one another kith by dusk. And just as these wound you and I share may heal, so will we seek wounds past and present between Ildir and Vraenor. You may rise, Eisen Gustav, and know that your honor remains unblemished by these affairs."

Looking to his Righthand, the royal nodded, soon looking back to the man with a polite smile.

"All I ask you to do is speak to the Lord High General, Sir Arterion Landrak, who stands behind me. Like you, he is a commander and a man of great honor. You two will have ample time to discuss Ildir's army and the integration of such into Vraenor's own. If all goes well, I hope to bestow the rank of colonel upon you and give you a formal command when all is said and done- that is how much you have impressed me compared to these squabbling fools. A smart man knows how to prolong his life, but an honorable man like yourself knows life's value. I hope to speak with you again soon."

With that said, the emperor did not bandage nor heal his wound, offering the man an arm to come to his feet. It was a common Vraenor gesture- while the military and many services supported the Empire, the emperor supported every soldier and every man in turn. So just as he had fallen honorably, so the emperor sought to help the man rise with just as much honor in turn.
[/fieldbox]

Interactions: @Dipper @RedArmyShogun

 

[LoveandHate91]

It seemed the battle had finally come to a end. Pride was around to see the interaction between his Emperor and the opposing leader was offered a place within their ranks. That was all Pride needed to see he grabbed the duffle bag he carried around and began to tend to the wounded as any medic should. If asked he would tend to the minor wounds his Emperor and the opposing leader took but their wounds were nothing too serious and that is why he went to the other wounded he could find using healing powders, bandages and potions that he had. Pride was clearly burning through all his supplies today but as long as he could lessen the death toll it was worth it to him. But when all this is over he's going to busy remaking all the potions and powders again. Pride continued to go from place to place saying very little just doing the job he was assigned he was just a matter of time before someone comes to retrieve him.

 

[Dipper]

Arterion Landrak​

Already Arterion had made his choice regarding the men outside. Some were far too meek for his tastes, or too inexperienced. The few he'd spared on the field would make fine officers, however, and a handful of Ildir's Captains would integrate well with the right push.

Arterion gave no more than a brief nod to the Emperor before turning to the soon-to-be Colonel and appraising him. Yes, he would do well in their army, provided he held his tongue in the Emperor's presence - and his own - and showed proper respect and tenacity once inducted into their ranks. A fine underling indeed. Once he'd fully ascertained the man's value, he spoke, tone flat, commanding, and expectant.

"Sir Eisen Gustav. You served Ildir well, I'll assume?" There was a hint of something dangerous in his tone, a certain tilt to his helmet. "Well, our Lord commands your allegiance, to stand under the Banner of Vraenor. What say you?"

He was testing the man, that much was abundantly clear. If this man of Ildir would not acquiesce to Arterion's commands, would not take a knee before him and swear fealty, then his loyalty to their Emperor was forfeit. Arterion would not risk his childhood friend's safety.

This would be the first conscript, Arterion decided. Vraenor would need strong men, loyal men, to lead them to victory. They might as well start here.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Eisen Gustav​

---

Listening to the Emperor and accepting the man's hand, Eisen still had misgivings about the Empire, but at the least this young fellow seemed a decent man. Though his nest actions went too far for a Sovereign, cutting himself and promising titles for one such as he, looking up at the Emperor the shock was palpable to the man's face.

"Your Majesty! Please do not worry about one such as me.. I am not worthy of your great magnanimity!" This Kieran fellow was a decent Emperor indeed, but would he hold on to that? Eisen knew the man's reason for fighting, Vraenor was robbed in it's past and never truly beaten, coming back with a vengeance, but for a ruler to bleed as such....

"Ah yes your Majesty, I will do so at once." Bowing his head lightly the other left his presence trailing a bit of blood, the same as Gustav on the floor.. Shaking his head, he sincerely hoped this wouldn't cause trouble for the Emperor at a later date, though it at least would not be from Eisen, for one so great to think so highly of him and to spare his life as rightful conqueror a debt was laid.

Next to come however was the General in question, more of a Field Marshall really, junior his years and fairly tall as well.. Though age alone was not a sign of ability or lack thereof, the Generals of his own nation now sleeping with the wall had proven that and then some, asking a rather strange question, the mans tone was harsh and commanding. Snapping a standard fist salute against his plate armor Eisen gives a slight nod before speaking.

"Ah you must be the Lord General. I cannot say if I served well, just that I did. Mostly as a Beast Slayer and a Heavy Infantry Commander, I was promoted by wishes of the people, rather than the lords.. I have not once ran from a battle but our main Human enemies have been Mercenaries and Bandits... well till today. I know Heavy Infantry and Calvary tactics, but Siegecraft is alien to me."

Putting his sword away, the larger man seems to take his time answering the other questioning however. "I cannot answer that simply. I am a man of Ildir, and as of now Ildir is part of the Empire, so long as we are not lied to I will be loyal to the Empire as I am to Ildir." Letting out a soft chuckle and smile, the larger man shrugs slightly in turn.

"That being said, that Emperor of yours is a decent man. Plus he took an active interest in me, more than my own country the last few years.. Even one like me is not immune to such praise.. I can Promise my loyalty to him. Ildir shall never leave the fold or revolt if we prosper under the Empire. Should our City and Empire part, then I will go home and not raise up arms. If the Emperor demands my head he shall have it."

"Aye, I will march under your banner, I will fight your Wars and through my Valor and that of my men, gain glory, so that Ildir might prosper alongside the rest of Vraenor and the Greater Empire, but in my heart this will always be my homeland. I cannot ever call myself a Man of Vraenor, but I can call myself a man of Ildir, Province of Imperial Vraenor."

Shaking his head it was a difficult question, he owed the Emperor personally, but he could not replace the home that was in his heart. Holding personal loyalty to the Emperor, Eisen seemingly was more content with dying than to raise his hand against his Overlord.

"Heh, you know I had spoken out against the Lords when I seen your new weapons, wanted to meet the Imperial Army on the plains and hillsides, felt we would have lasted longer. Either way all those who I were sworn to are now dead so I would not be breaking old oaths by switching my service.. No, my service would be the same, simply under something larger. Well that is if you'll still have me."

Chuckling a bit as he called one of his escorts over, Eisen has a brief discussion with the man, bowing his head low to the General in apology. Instructing the man to find his aide and in turn give him instructions for the surrender the last bits of battle would quickly cease.. hopefully.

---

 

[Rae]

Morrigan Saval || Duchess of Rynal​

Pretty little speech. The duchess knew plenty about pretty speeches, for she had given many herself. She could already see the effect it had on the more desperate nobles around her. The terrified looked hopeful, the furious looked contemplative. Others hardly shifted at all, especially those more dedicated to their anger. But overall, the emperor accomplished his first task--complacency.

Morrigan was hardly complacent, but she knew how to play these games. She'd won the hearts and minds of courtesans all her life. It was only in more recent years that she began to apply such charm towards her personal goals. Who knew that all her years of manipulation would be needed for such a moment as this? For now, however, she remained silent, watching as one of Ildir's officers stepped forward to speak. She could see the open honesty on his face; he truly believed his own little speech. Probably wise to surrender, in the very least.

The nobles in the room began to shift; once again, the duchess saw the power of mere words. Hostilities became nearly nonexistent except in the stubborn few; most seemed prepared to swear their fealty to their new ruler. Survival of the smartest, I suppose. Morrigan had no such plans. She was a Duchess of Shaodor, and her uncle was the king. Though survival came first in her mind, she also retained a shred of dignity and pride in her home. She would not swear any oath--at least, not a real one.

The emperor's reply only seemed to solidify his position as benevolent ruler, although she had to admit her surprise when he cut his own hand for the sake of show. He promised peace and honor, but Morrigan could only wonder.

Pretty, pretty words.

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Darnic Aberlon & Russell Woods​

As Russell stood there with his arms crossed he hesitated for a moment before accepting the extended hand and completed the handshake. "Darnic it is then." It was a subtle and welcoming surprise that this captain actually bothered to introduce himself. The same could somewhat be said about hearing that the men actually talk about him. Guess that explains why most of them just refer to him as "Slayer." The man let out a sigh before replying, sharing a glace at the view of the scoldering world around them.


"Aye, you could say that. I was contempt with helping out the common folk deal with monsters they couldn't defend themselves from. Then one morning I woke up and found a letter was slipped under my door at the inn I'd been staying at for awhile. I read it of course...and the rest is history." The man looked away for a moment in thought.


Russell was about to speak again before the soldier had arrived and began informing Darnic in regards to the issue at hand. The slayer's attention was immediately grasped even before the captain invited him along. The man's relaxed yet defensive posture had changed to a more on alert and tense posture with his arms at his sides as well as standing straight. Russell responded with a quick nod before following closely behind the two.


"Well, that is unfortunate.." Following the soldier, Darnic was curious to see what the issue was. The soldier picked up his pace, turning to his side, glancing at Darnic from time to time. Turning more than one corners, they could now, hear a few soldiers yelling at someone. "Thats it?" He straight up asked, before the soldier gave a nod in agreement.


It was a broken house, likely from the battle. Walking inside, there were three soldiers standing by the exit, pointing their swords at the young kid. "Captain!" The soldiers took a step to the side, giving Darnic a good look at the problem.


A kid standing before a corpse. Tears running down his cheeks, yet the expression plastered on his face was to that of contempt, rage and sorrow. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!!!"

The kid exclaimed, glaring daggers at the soldiers, and now Darnic and Russell.


Darnic stood there for a few seconds. A rather serious expression was plastered on his face. This kid probably had nothing to lose. He could see that in his eyes. A look that was very familiar to him. A look not only adults could have, but children like the one standing before him as well. He was what, ten or eleven years old, from the looks of it.


Taking a few steps forward, the kid was glaring daggers at them. "DONT! DONT COME ANY CLOSER!!" He screamed once more, but that did not stop Darnic, not right away, that is. He took another step, before crouching down to the kid's level.


"Is that your father, kid?" Darnic asked, glancing at the corpse right next to the young boy.


Russell stayed back from the child hardly being more than a foot closer to the captain than the rest of the soldiers with his arms crossed; not wanting to crowd the already on edge child. He stared right back into the boy's eyes, unflinching at the gaze that he was all too familiar with. His out expression remained more or less passive but the slayer felt a dull pain in his chest as he related to the boy's position. Though another part of him was ever so curious in regards to what this captain was going to do about this situation he wasn't going to hold his tongue.


"Young man, you know those tears won't bring him back…" Just then the slayer's eyes drifted over to the ruined dwelling just beyond and remembered his old guild home up in flames and his family littered across the ground before it. The current situation was all too familiar. "...though I suppose that doesn't stop us all from trying."



Darnic stayed quiet. There was nothing for him to say, not in that moment. A rather dim and serious expression plastered on his face. His eyes looking straight back at the kid. 'How many times do I have to go through this?' A rather ominous thought ran through the Captain's mind. Something he remembered about his past, something one could say would haunt him, even to this day.


Tilting his head to the side, he looked at Russell. Even the Slayer's attempt at quelling the boy's anger did not help. Closing his eyes for a mere moment, Darnic looked at the soldiers behind him. "You can leave now, I'll take it from here." They listened, and nodded in return.


"You heard the Captain.. Lets go." Turning away, the soldiers left the broken house. Darnic sighed for what was to come. Standing up, he took a step forward. "Kid.."


"STOP!! YOU KILLED MY FATHER!! MY FAMILY!!"


"YOU MONSTERS!!"


Darnic stopped in his tracks. Gazing at the broken boy. "MY FATHER--" He cried and cried, looking at his feets, his father's corpse. Before he could say anything else, Darnic interrupted.


"Yes.. You're not wrong. We're monsters.. All of us." There was no emotion behind Darnic's words. He was blunt, truthful and did not try to convince the boy otherwise. Despite the warnings, the Captain began approaching the boy.


"Go ahead, do what you must kid. For your father, your family." Darnic was straightforward, giving the boy the push he needed to go on the offensive with the knife he held in his bloodied hand.


"This is your chance to do something about us… Monsters." Pushing the boy more, Darnic could see it coming any moment, and it did. The boy dashed forward, crying and screaming in the process, holding the knife with both his hands, he was thrusting it towards the Captain's neck. But suddenly, the boy stopped.


Blood dripping down Darnic's hand, covering the knife ever so slowly. The boy had stabbed the Captain in the hand. In an attempt to pull the knife out, the boy was desperate for another go, but was at the same time shocked at the outcome.


Staring right back at the boy, Darnic had a grim expression plastered on his face. Balling his wounded hand into a fist to keep the knife inside, and to prevent the kid from pulling it out, he spoke up. The boy was afraid. He screamed, and tried using both his hands to pull out the knife.


"LET GO!! LET GO YOU MONSTER!!"


Darnic was silent, but his silence said a lot. If anything, the boy probably felt that he was about to get killed. "The world we live in.. It's a cruel place.. In order for you to survive in it, you have to adapt to the cruelty."


'How many times do I have to go through this?.' The same thought, the same question ran through his mind. What was truly behind Darnic's actions?


Russell couldn't help but be surprised at everything that had transpired after the soldiers were ordered to leave. The world was indeed a cruel and unforgiving place and all the creatures that resided within were beasts and monsters. This was something the slayer has deeply agreed with for many years; but to hear it come out of someone else's mouth.


The feeling of astonishment only increased as he watched Darnic literally do the exact thing Russell would have done in this situation; fear always has been the greatest teacher afterall. The objective was clearly aiming to teach the boy a world lesson that he would hold onto for the rest of his life. However, the slayer wasn't sure what the next step of this lesson would entail whether the boy would pass or fail and that made the man antsy and restless. His leather gloved hands were balled into fists for he knew what the boy had to do.


'Let go of the knife boy…be more than a frightened cub cornered within his den...'


To Russell's fears however the boy showed no signs of doing so anytime soon and he feared what the consequence would be for failing to adapt. He wanted to shout at the boy or force him to let go but he knew deep down that if he did anything of the sort the boy wouldn't move forwards in his life. So he begrudgingly did neither of these things. Despite this the slayer did approach the two at this point as he stopped just to the right of Darnic. His eyes fell upon the boy; the gaze, soft and concerned.


'Come on boy, understand the lesson…'


Not batting an eye, Darnic had his eyes fixated on the kid. Even if the the boy was reluctant to let go of the knife, he eventually did. The Captain's hand returned to its former state, not balled into a fist anymore. One could clearly see that the knife was still stabbed into the palm of his hand.


Despite the actions of the kid, one could see that his eyes were red, filled with tears running down his cheeks. "If you want to survive. Cling to your hatred. If you need something to hold onto. Hold onto your revenge for me." Darnic was directing the boy's anger towards him, making sure he wouldn't fall apart in the future.


Giving the kid something to strive towards, something as deep as hatred to hold onto, would likely give him the opportunity to grow and survive. Darnic turned around, glancing at Russell in the process. His vacant hand held the knife stabbed into his other, before he pulled it out. "When you know you're ready, come find me kid, and you can take your revenge."


Having said that he threw the knife back to the kid. "Take good care of that knife."


Leaving the house, the guards were standing just outside. "Captain!.. Is--" They noticed his bloodied hand.


"That bastard of a k--" One of the guards spoke up, angered by the wound on Darnic's hand.


A mere look in the noble's eyes, and the guards held their mouths shut. "Take the kid back to the others. Provide him with food, a blanket. Ask the citizens of Ildir if anyone knows him, so they can take him in." Walking past the guards, there was one more thing he needed to say. Something that needed to be said, to remind the guards.


"Remember. The kid is just a victim of the war."


Russell was almost eerily silent as he stood there idle as the captain finished up his business with the boy before promptly leaving. The lesson that he'd expected was now firmly branded into this boy's heart and the slayer could see it in the child's tear stricken eyes as the knife was hastily retrieved.


"Temper your hatred with patience, boy. It'll serve you well."


These were the only words Russell bestowed to the boy before he reached into a pouch on and tossed a small whetstone which clattered along the floor.


"Keep it sharp."


With that Russell swiftly made his exit as well as he caught up with Darnic and the other soldiers just in time to hear them speak back and forth about the boy. The exiled hero shoulder shoved the guard that spoke up about the boy out of his way as he approached the captain. "Oi, Darnic!" He'd call out before hastily stopping in front of the armored man. The guardsmen of course spouted their crap but the words fell on uncaring ears.


The man stood there in silence before the captain for a moment before he clasped a hand tightly around Darnic's stabbed hand in a very firm handshake. Unflinching the slayer looked straight at this man with a respectful gaze. A dull green light would envelop the linked hands as Russell began to use his Botanomancy magic to heal the stab wound.


"Been a long time since I've met a monster who's worth a damn." His stoic yet respectful expression changed as the bastard cracked a sly smile. By now the wound had been healed and Russell had let go of the man's hand. "Hope you don't mind if I root for the kid when the time comes." He jested once more before stepping to the side, letting the captain continue on his way with Russell following just to the side of him. "Until that day comes however I'll just have to keep you in one piece. After all, I can only imagine how distraught that boy would be to find out the goal he'd strived for was taken from him."


'Perhaps this whole fiasco would be worth something after all'

@Akashi

 

[Starlighter]

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Lucretia le Torneau​

Imperial Spymaster​

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Lucretia dipped her head in a gesture of respect as the Emperor moved to specifically address the assassin standing behind her, adjusting her position slightly so as not to interfere with their conversation. When he concluded and she was given the signal to take her place on his left side, she stepped forward and gracefully ascended the steps, finishing with a delicate spin to face the room at large.

There was something very satisfying about standing above the snippety Countess. Irksome child.

As the Emperor's address went on, she stood with her hands folded loosely in front of her, expression neutral and her posture relaxed, yet poised. She gave no reaction to any of the goings on, simply observing and assessing the crowd. She'd heard such flowery speeches before, and it was of little concern to her. She knew the Emperor's sincerity and intentions, and there was nothing new for her to learn from his dramatic presentation. Ultimately, the talk was merely an indirect means to a desired end, persuading the strongest influencers in such a way that they would extend that influence to the greater populace.

Her observation roamed the occupants of the room, her focus intentionally diverted from the catching form of the General that always seemed to be lingering in the corner of her eye. In particular, she watched the red headed elf in whom the Emperor had expressed particular interest. Not in such an obvious manner as to stare, but rather by allowing her gaze to sweep back and forth over the woman and to others, then back. She knew little of the woman personally, but her distinguishing features implied that she was most likely the Shaodoran Ambassador, the Duchess of something or other.

The display by the Ildirian Colonel momentarily diverted her attention. Her posture tensed briefly, but her reaction was otherwise nearly nonexistent. With Arterion mere feet away and the power of magic at his beck and call, Kieran could hardly be safer than if they were in the throne room of Netherium.

While the rest of the assembled prisoners and guards were fixated on the drama unfolding between the Emperor and the Colonel, she drifted to Lynd's side and spoke in a soft tone that would carry to his ears alone.

"You did well today," she murmured, her gaze still assessing the room at large rather than focusing on him directly, "Very well indeed. When the time comes, I will summon you to discuss your next assignment privately." Satisfied to have said her piece, she maneuvered silently back to her place, and resumed her former position as though nothing had changed. This time, however, she allowed her eyes to wander to the red haired elf, and remain there, steadily eyeing her with just the smallest hint of a challenge.​

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@FrostedCaramel @Kimberlyn ​