u/NegotiationFront3981

Under command of Lord Vladek, Lionne sails for Yencoast where the army will then disembark and march for the Houndlands. u/bread0407, will you escort us to Verandia from there?

By the terms of the Treaty of The Arrad, Ashada u/Hot_Plankton6742 shall cede The Arrad to the Shadow Realm u/Capital-Background22. In return, the Shadow Realm pledges to leave Duskpike and cede it to Ashada. In addition, the Shadow Realm shall pledge not to construct any portals within the former boundaries of the Kingdom of Ashada. Do u/Hot_Plankton6742 and u/Capital-Background22 find these terms agreeable and accept them? We ask that u/Patrick_Hill_One hold the 3rd siege of The Arrad for 24 hours until both parties have come to an agreement or refused the terms.

Blood and sweat stained his brow. He looked down at the slain man before him. A youth, barely a man, little more than a boy.

"Must've been a scant seventeen years of age, the poor wretch. Oh, the toils that war inflicts upon us all," he thought to himself, the burnt crater where his left eye had once been searing with a pain that would blind the other if not for his resolve.

Now he gazed upon the gates of Valinvaga's foreboding citadel, a tall tower crowned by a mighty ballista. It stood above him, so high it seemed to sway with the wind. He thought back to the youth he had just cut down, the words he had declared to him in a haughty display of ignorance. Hyngwelf was a seasoned veteran of many foul sieges, while this man had barely seen a single sword fight he was sure. The youth gave a proud smile to him, a thin line of stubble around his mouth.

"I am Yeoman, son of Halfdan Harvalson, and I shall be the death of you.

"Turn back now boy, I do not wish to strike you down," warned Hyngwelf.

"I'd like to see you try you fat bastard. After I'm through with you I'll sever your manhood and feed it to my pigs - then we'll see who is the better sword," replied the young man, a great sword too large for his thin arms. "My father's blade will see you finished. It slew many an Anvardian in the First Battle of Bjorsland," he said,ma boyish grin crossing his face.

Hyngwelf sighed. He would not strike down this fool. For a second, he looked at the man's face and thought of his own son. He had caught the sweating sickness and fallen dead the next morning.

The young man charged, great sword raised above his head. "For the Jarlkona, for the Wyrmguard!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

Hyngwelf brushed his blow aside. Steel rang in steel. The youth stumbled, falling flat on his face. Hyngwelf had a chance to sever the boy's head from his shoulders, but he stayed his hand.

"You need a hand?" he inquired mockingly, as Yeoman, son of Halfdan Harvalson stood back up.

"How 'bout I take one of yours," he shot back, swinging the heavy sword around with a grunt. Hyngwelf stepped back, the sword slicing the air where he had just lingered. Again Yeoman tried. Again and again, each time Hyngwelf stepped back. Now he forced the youth back.

He brought his sword up with two hands, ready to swing it down left. Yeoman struck first, his sword burying itself into the wattle and daub walls of a ruined building, but Hyngwelf side-stepped him, switched the side he would strike from, and brought his sword across with such fury that it struck the shaft of Yeoman's blade and sent it flying from his hands.

Hyngwelf then crashed into the young man's flank, sending him crashing to the ground. He leveled the tip of his sword at Yeoman's throat.

"Be done with it! I will feast in the halls of Valhalla while you will freeze your balls off in Niflheim, old man!"

"Go," said Hyngwelf, bringing the point of his sword back from youth's throat.

Yeoman stood up quickly, giving Hyngwelf a sly look, when an arrowhead burst through his chest in a spray of blood.

"Nooo!" Hyngwelf shouted, catching the young man before he fell, blood rippling from the corner of his mouth, a smile on his face, his eyes glassed over as the life drained from them.

***

Hours later Hyngwelf was in his knees, battered and bloody before the Jarlkona.

"Fair lady, I ask that you release me," he said, his composure calm. "Much blood has been spilled; Wyrmguard, Anvard, and Lionne have all payed. Take my life and that accomplishes nothing but add a drop to an ocean of blood. Release me now and be done with the matter as we are done with this frozen hell you call home."

The Jarlkona looked at him.

What does she say u/Dagiz?

The banners of Lionne snapped furiously in the howling north wind. It was early morning, rays of sun casting vivid glows of deep reds and orange on Lord Vladek's armor. He gazed out over the cold Björska Sea, waves roaring and casting up spray all about the rocky shoreline.

"Ye gon' leave without us, ey, yer lerdship?" said a voice behind him. Vladek turned around, Grimni the dwarf leaning on his axe and Brooz the wartroll standing beside him were the sight that greeted him.

"I see you have returned from your venture in Panakor, master dwarf," said Vladek, peering down at the little bearded fellow in front of him.

"Aye, indeed we did yer lerdship. Comin' back now fer the fight," replied Grimni.

"I am glad to hear that. I take it you slayed a giant?" Vladek asked, a doubtful tone in his voice.

"Nay, he moreso pummeled me with a tree, but I got payed fer me efforts," stayed the dwarf, motioning to Brooz to pull out a hefty bag of coin. "Five Irons - eh, not too shabby if I be sayin' so meself."

Vladek's eyes went wide with surprise, "Five Irons, that's a fortune - those northern bastards must've been feeling generous."

Brooz remarked in his gruff voice, "True North dumb. Not smart like Brooz is," a questionable look on Vladek's face as he considered just how dumb the wartroll might be.

"Aye, they were. Nearly got me skull split though. One of their healers, some dame, worked some kind o' spell on me, emeralds 'n' all."

Vladek looked confused. "Eh, it's a long story," replied Grimni.

"If only I had time for it, master dwarf, but Valinvaga awaits, and I must be off now. I can afford no more delays," replied Vladek, beginning to limp off towards the flagship.

"Lord, wait!" cried a voice behind. Vladek turned around again, this time Castellan Cedric was before him, his horse rearing on its hind legs wildly as he stopped.

"Lord, your presence is requested of at the Yarrokian Assembly. They wish to discuss the state of the border regions," said Cedric.

"Time be damned, now they want to discuss the border?!" Replied Vladek. "I have no such time for these things - not now, not in the slightest."

"I am and have been Castellan before, and now a good amount 'bout border defences," stated Cedric. "Send me in your stead, Lord."

"And who will remain behind to watch over Tírith Rhaw? I am not so keen on losing yet another castle, Lord Cedric."

"I know, Lord, but Gundulf is an experie -" Vladek interrupted him, "Gundulf? The man started a fighting ring and payed a bunch of orcs to build it!"

"Yes, I know Lord, but he also secured a temporary garrison, 100 Anvardians for its defence. We are well-provided for. And he has also played part in every single battle we've been in - he knows a thing or two 'bout defence," finished Cedric.

"I suppose," said Vladek. "You have my leave - but first, ensure Tírith Rhaw is provided for before your departure. It suits me ill that not a single lord of Lionne has not remained in our realm - but perhaps I worry too much. So be it. Farewell, Lord Cedric," said Vladek, finally turning around and boarding the vessel bound for Valinvaga. "Look to my return in 2 months. I shall see you then, old friend."

Cedric gave a grin, "And you as well, Lord."

71 soldiers and 1 wartroll. 58 mercenaries aboard from the Knights of Gruner Bar at the price of 5 Irons mentioned previously.

The morning had gone quiet enough. A few days ago, Lord Vladek had at long last first looked upon Renhook, the new realm of Lionne. The fortress he had ordered built now stood, silent sentinel, keeping watch over the Wintersbluff estuary and serving as his seat of power. Much fighting and feasting had occurred in the days leading up to now. A dispute had boiled over to bloodshed between the Anvardian soldiers and the Horde laborers. That had been enjoyable. But his mind would find no solace in this new land. Not yet.

For a month, word from the lands of the Wyrmguard had fallen silent, he was told upon his return. He knew nothing of what had transpired in Valinvaga or Haverhal - and it weighed on him that here he was, sitting upon his throne and feasting and drinking while his men were in frost-blighted lands half a world away fighting Anvard's enemies. He should've been with them, he should've been there, leading them from the front. Last anyone had heard was of Bjorsland, and things had taken a turn for the worse there.

His mind now wandered, thinking of all that had taken place in these last five long, hard years. The betrayal of Sturgia, the Siege of Arathril, the loss of The Arrad, the fall of Allor, so much bloodshed and destruction. Why had he come all this way? Was the course he chose truly the best for Lionne? he thought deeper, thought back to the moment his sword, slick with mad King Brutus' blood, had been in his one hand, the despot's head in the other.

"I saved them. Nothing else could have been done; I stopped a massacre," he thought. "But have the means justified the ends? Have I truly been different than Brutus? I dragged my men to Orsca on the whim of a dream. Brutus dragged us all to Myyga for his dream of an empire - but I acted not out of pride," he reasoned. He thought further. "But for what - what was the purpose of it all? Why me? Why Anvard? I believed so fervently in the 'One True God', but if he is so great, then why do mortal men die for him? If he is so great, then why did his most devout of servants, Rollo, find his empire overrun, his head taken, and his people scattered?"

The next day, he began to grow impatient, his mind under a great deal of stress. Then things took a turn for the worse. A ship bearing black sails arrived. Bodies of the fallen and the most wretchedly wounded were unloaded onto land, their cries carried by the wind to the top of the tower. Vladek gazed down from the wooden crown of Tirith Rhaw, silent, watching with grief at his handiwork.

"This is not my doing. This is the doing of the traitors, of the Wyrmguard . . . But I sent them there. I won the battle and secured a new land where we could begin anew - but why didn't I stop there? I saw no vision for Valinvaga, Bjorsland, or Haverhal. Is it Pride that drove me to send them to slaughter? Am I no better than Brutus, sending men here and there to die for my pride - for pride has surely led me in part to this war," he thought.

"Lord, I see something troubles you. Do speak with me, and I shall see if I may assuage your concerns," the old man said, leaning on his staff, the scales of his mail clinking as he leaned forward.

Vladek's gaze turned towards him, "Bishop Athanasius, why do you now stand here? Do you wish to lecture me further on the 'One True God'," he said, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"I assume you are in no mood for the sixteen dissertations of Brother Alveric of Crytor, Lord?" replied the old man.

Vladek drove straight to the root of the matter, saying, "Why is it that your One True God allowed your lands to be overrun by hordes of the undead, a most vile sort?"

"Sometimes his ways are a mystery, Lord, only unveiled to his faithful in due time," replied Athanasius, his composure calm as always.

"Is there any difference between me and my forebearers, the ones who have held the honor of leading this kingdom, and the ones who have tarnished it? Why did I throw my men into that cold hell? There was no vision, no prophecy, nothing. Is it just my pride that led them there - to die? That would make me no better than Brutus, the very man I slew for his pride. He led us to Arathril. I suppose my men would do the same if it came to that - and why not? I have led them to their deaths and know not if they will succeed or return alive. And what's more, they are without me to lead them. I sit here on my throne just like Brutus would have done. Anvard is my ally, but when did their interests triumph over those of my own people? The people have lost their homes, their lives, and even now I have taken the cross of Anvard - but why?" he turned to Athanasius. "What has the 'One True God' ever done for Anvard even, that I should worship him and forget the ways of my fathers? I begin to think that I have sacrificed Lionne on the altar of Anvard and their 'God'," he said, turning around to face the stiff air blowing from the North as he gazed on the silver line the Wintersbluff carved through the land.

"They beat me, flogged me, broke me in the name of their God, and then I have a fever dream and decide to turn to that 'God', one who can not even protect his own devout it would seem!"

"Lord, you are not like the mad king. You are wise and just. The very nature of your grief over your men shows the truth of your heart - but do not blame the One True God. His ways are a mystery to all, and he reveals them in his time. Man can not make demands of him. You must keep him close to your heart, and in turn, he shall keep you close to his own," said Athanasius, Vladek's gaze fixed on him now.

"All in good time, you say," remarked Vladek, a hint of mockery laced his voice once again. "I can not see the signs. All I see is my men before me, their blood on my hands. I have abandoned them, I worry, for foolish piousness and pride of heart. There was peace before those dreams were sent upon me. And then we lost our home, our allies, and many lost their lives," he was interrupted, Athanasius speaking now.

"This is but a test of your faith, Lord. And look now, you have been rewarded with land far greater and richer than ever before, strong allies, and a communion with the One True God," remarked the old man.

After a long pause of silence, Vladek said, "We used to believe in trickster spirits, whose delight was to watch mortals suffer. I have land, yes, but many now lay dead. I have been driven, or misguided, by religious fervor in the name of this 'God'. If he was a trickster deity . . . His goals were accomplished then. Blood now runs in rivers and men lay piled up in graves. I start to -"

"You will not speak of the One True God in such a fashion, Lord. In Anvard, a man's tongue would be -"

"And you are in Lionne, Bishop, not in Anvard! We are not an extension of you and I have had enough of dreams, visions, and all their ilk. I bought 60 mercenaries, and I will be leaving on the morrow I have decided, my enemies be damned! I will not cower here any longer, nor send them to their deaths in the name of a foreign 'god'! I owe no apology to this 'god' for what I have said, only to my men for being so foolish to lead them to their doom without me by their side."

Athanasius stare at him, startled my the sudden change in demeanor of the Lord Vladek. He started, "Then I shall pray for your soul regardless -"

"Pray all you want," Vladek's gaze cutting into the bishop, "I was judged by your laws once, but I am the Skull-Taker, the one who burnt innocents in their own homes, the one who has been cursed by heathen magic. I am no more a devout servant - and can not be - than you are a bloodthirsty warrior. Look at me, I can not be other than what I am. Enough for piety and devotion. It is time Lionne's interests were those of Lionne and not others. I shall leave and bring home my men; pride will no longer guide me nor the gods of another," he said.

"Then I shall come with you, Lord," said Athanasius, "and pray for your soul day and night, that your pig-headedness may depart you."

Vladek grinned, "I forfeit my soul long ago, 'Bishop, there is no peace for me. No longer will I deny what I am and what I have become. I shall embrace it. Let it be known, from now on, that no longer will those who oppose me be dealing with Vladek the pious, but with Vladek the Skull-Taker, the Pillager of Arathril."

BOOM!...BOOM!...BOOM!...

The drums rang out, hoots, cheers, and jeers sounded from the massed crowd of orcs, men, and dwarves gathered around the ring. It was a large circle of mud littered with yesterday's victims. A large chain was strung around it, both ends nailed into a dead tree which loomed over the pit.

On the one side was Murdock Forkbeard of the Anvardian dwarf clan, axe in the one hand, shield in the other, a proud expression on his face. He placed the butt of his axe in the grass around the ring and stroked a fork of his massive black beard.

"Aye, yer lerdship, we goin' ta get this on or do I need ta wait fer the Horde te get their bloomers on?" the stubby little dwarf said, casting a glance over at the ravenous Uruks on the other side of the ring.

"We wait for the Horde's champion to arrive, master dwarf," said General Cedric, the new castellan of Tirith Rhaw. "Weather permitting, we shall have another guest of honour this day," he said, looking thoughtfully toward the horizon as he stroked his beard.

"With all due respect yer grace, I don't be fancy waitin' to long. Let's just get this over with - better yet, I'll just be takin' all these filthy inbred uruks meself if ye'd be fine with that, get this show over with," Murdock said, raising his voice at the last bit. "I be not afraid of some cock-brained dimwits in armor - slay 'em all before noon's what I say."

The Uruks turned towards him in a fit of rage, shouting their harsh and cruel language at him and beckoning for him to come over to their side of the ring as they drew their swords. Murdock picked his axe back up.

"Ye want some, ey? Why don't ye just come on over here and spare me the trip te kick all ye ar-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, THE LOT OF YE!" roared Cedric above the growing chaos.

"You," he said, pointing at Murdock, "I'll not have the Horde roasting you on a spit. Shut yer mouth before ye wind up with a spear up yer arse and through it, NOW!"

"What have I missed?" said a voice quietly from behind. Cedric turned around and swiftly bowed, shocked by this new arrival.

Lord Vladek stood before him, starved, bruised, and sunburnt, but very much alive.

"Up, man, up!" he said, lifting Cedric off his knees with a grunt and clasping him on the shoulders. Lord Arkhan looked across the field at him, squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight, muttering, "You should've been dead by now."

Lord Vladek turned around, just in time as a Pteradonon swooped overhead to the clamor of nearly a hundred Uruk-hai shouting and cheering. The beast landed with a heavy thump on the ground, folding its wings as Borgut Facebeater, champion of the Horde, slid off its back.

"I, Borgut Facebeater come to beat face and chew dwarf, and der iz plenty of both!" he shouted, raising his massive spear above his head to the hoots and jeers of his fellow Uruks, Lord Arkhan nodding his approval. The heavily armored orc dropped from the Pteradonon's back with a deep, bone-jarring thud. In one fist he gripped a massive hammer; in the other, a lance five times the height of a man. A crossbow rode his back. The plates of his armor shrieked as he turned his head, looking at the dwarf half his height staring him down from across the field.

"What in the blazes has happened since I left?" demanded Vladek, Cedric shrugging his soldiers.

"It escapes me, lord. Gundulf's the one in charge," he replied.

"We gon' fight or not?!" roared Borgut.

"Yeah, when we gon' be done with these bastards?!" shouted Murdock as well, lifting his axe off the ground and above his head.

"Very well, we will begin within the hour. SHARPEN YOUR BLADES!" yelled Vladek to the ruckus shouting of both Anvard and Horde.

Lord Vladek took his seat upon his iron throne, Cedric to his left, Gundulf to his right.

"Anything is permitted save for getting help. You want to take each other's balls, be my guest, least it'll make the match somewhat more interesting," Horde shouting their approval, Anvard throwing their fists in the air, a fit of bloodlust descending on both sides.

"BEGIN!" roared Vladek, Murdock and Borgut facing off with each other in the ring.

Borgut drew his crossbow out in a flash, the sunlight glinting off the iron. He let loose a massive steel-tipped bolt towards the dwarf, Murdock jumping to the side to dodge the arrow as it sliced through the wet dirt at the edge of the ring. Borgut loosed another bolt, nearly skewering Murdock if not for his shield, which he raised just in time, the arrow glancing off the edge and nicking the dwarf's copper helm.

"Now it's me turn ye brute, come 'n' get sum!" he roared, barreling forward, head bared down behind his shield. Another bolt was loosed at him, striking the shield dead in the center. The impact sent the dwarf back a step. The arrowhead had gone straight through the gold crest in the center and bored through the shield, its tip covered in small golden flecks and nearly in Murdock's eye. he inhaled hard for a second, Borgut beckoning him to come forward with his mailed hand.

"Puny dwarf come forward. Borgut be gentle, only pummel half of puny face!" he yelled, a hideous sound ringing aloud in his helm, whatever passed for a chuckle with the Uruks.

"I'll split ye in two with me axe like a log ye fool! I know ye ain't brighter than a log!" He surged forward, axe in hand, charging the mighty orc.

Borgut pulled out his enormous lance, waving it over his head and then bringing it forward, trying to catch the dwarf with its tip. Murdock leaned back just in time, the tip cutting a few hairs from his beard. He rushed forward again. This time, Borgut gripped the lance with two hands and swung it to the side, determined to knock the stubby dwarf over and then skewer him like a roasted pig

The move worked, the shaft taking the dwarf's stubby feet out from under him and throwing him onto his back. He landed with a wet thud in the mud, his axe out of reach. Then he saw him: Borgut stomping over to him, hammer raised, ready to pummel him into jelly.

"No," Murdock whispered, in a flash lifting his shield as the hammer came down at him.

The first blow rang out against the shield, the impact so strong, Murdock was sure his arm was shattered. Then again, and again, the third time the shield bent under the force of the blow.

The brute raised his hammer again, Murdock rolled out from under the hammer's path, reaching his axe and grabbing it. Borgut, confused, barely had time to register what happened, as the dwarf swung his axe across.

The axe rang against Borgut's armor, its impact dulled by the plate of iron. It bit through, burying itself in Borgut's leg. For a moment, nothing happened. Both orc and dwarf simply stared at the axehead. Then, Borgut let loose a hideous shriek.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" yelled the orc, Murdock attempting to pry the axe out as Borgut howled in pain, dropping his giant hammer to the ground with a wet thud.

Unable to pull out his axe, Murdock left it there, kicking its head even deeper into Borgut's leg.

Turning around, he said to the crowd of shocked onlookers, "Ye see, these cock-brained sea rats couldn't best a stubby lil' dwarf like meself!" grunting on the last part as he kicked the axe deeper into the leg of the orc.

"Let it be known teday, that Murdock Forkbeard, proud dwarf of Anva-" he never finished his thought.

His eyes crossed as he felt a massive blow crush his helm and travel through his body, making him an full foot shorter. His eyes were crossed and looked up, his own axe buried in his head.

"Borgut win!" roared the orc, his fists in the air. As Murdock had been talking, he had pulled the axe out of his leg and buried it in the dwarf's head.

The Anvardians, in shock, remained silent.

The Horde let loose battlecries and hoots, jeering at the Anvardians to send them another.

Lord Vladek leaned on the edge of his iron throne, wide-eyed, gazing at the grizzly scene before his eyes.

The dwarf's body was escorted back to the Anvardians; they laid his chipped axe and rent shield on his breast.

u/medicus_vulneratum u/DapperCardiologist25, Would you like to go again?

Maester mason Gundulf stood below the looming tower of Tírith Rhaw, the mightiest fortress this far North. Perhaps one day it would grow. He could already see it. Great strong towers, high walls, ballistae and spiked palisade crowning each top. Maybe this would be the beginning of something great. But not yet, not now.

Lord Vladek had ordered a causeway be constructed to connect the new settlement on the North bank of the Wintersbluff to the small island upon which the tower was being raised.

The causeway had been necessary, as the waters around the isle upon which the new fortress sat were to shallow and choked by jagged rocks for any proper ship - even a landing craft - to get close. The causeway would ensure the smooth transit of supplies and materials to Tírith Rhaw. it was wide enough that 3 armored knights on horseback could ride abreast and sturdy enough that 5 wartrolls could stand upon it at once, carrying their heavy loads.

Fine stone had been sailed a great distance across the waves from Stoneholt of House Atane in Daggerstake u/Cookiejunkie

Armed guards from Lord Drinian of Anvard had been requested from Anvard and marched overland from Sternhead u/DapperCardiologist25

Laborers had come alongside Lord Arkhan, traveling all the way from the Devil's Coals u/medicus_vulneratum

Craftsmen in training of the Iron Legion had traveled far overland to learn from Gundulf and assist in the construction of the tower u/bread0407

OOC: You will all be payed for your efforts tomorrow. Feel free to play out how your characters may interact.

Lord Vladek stood upon a small isle near the marshy frost-ridden estuary of the Wintersbluff river.

Vladek Spoke, "Tírith Rhaw, this will be this mighty fortress's name. Tirith Rhaw. Last night, I was greeted by another vision, Gundulf," the mason standing next to him cocked his head to the side, confused by what Vladek meant.

"I saw a vision of a golden cross, its light unbelievably radiant. It came down and the moment its base touched this very isle, the Bogmere, the entire marshy reed-covered chunk of mud became a mighty boulder."

Gundulf took a look at the fens, thickets, and reeds all around him.

"Lord," said Gundulf, "why would one wish to build here?" he said, the skepticism apparent in his voice. " The ground is low, and there is only one place of strength a tower could be constructed," he said, inclining his head towards the large rock on the island. "Why not further south, away from these freezing lands and nearer to a major settlement, or even better, atop a mountain or other such raised place of strength? We are further north than even the Wyrmguard's capital, and they have lived their entire history in those blasted lands. We hail from Allor, hot and humid."

Vladek gave him a look, raising one eyebrow.

"Because Gundulf, the mysteries of the divine may not be revealed to you, but they have been to me. This fortress shall be a great place of strength, the strongest in Rutland with the fall of Braccenfoot. In My vision," Gundulf, out of sight of Vladek, rolled his eyes at yet another mention of 'Divine Will', "I saw ships, great and numerous - black hulls, red sails - be dashed to pieces as they came against this one island," he said, stamping his boot on the wet soil. "None will overcome it, not with your expertise, my friend - though of course it is only by the will of the One True God that anything stands the test if the ages."

Gundulf rolled his eyes yet again at the mention of the 'One True God'. He did not dislike Vladek, but the repeated mention of such things was beginning to annoy him to a degree.

"What will be the damage on our coffers?" Inquired Vladek.

Gundulf replied, "The soil is wet and marshy; logs will be needed, thick and sturdy, to be driven down to solid ground and packed together for the foundation. Fine stone will be needed as well - I shall make inquiries on that matter. We will need craftsmen, masons, and labourers of course. I suppose prisoners from the recent wars may do, provided they are in good shape after all this time," he said, a slight chuckle escaping him at the thought of the once-mighty Wyrmguard warriors now draped in rags and sitting in their own feces. "Timber and fine furnishings will also be needed - oh, and transport for the materials."

Vladek took in what he said, "So, 8 Irons?"

"More," replied Gundulf, saying, "At least a Mark. But, after all, a new fortress is needed - though it still escapes my understanding why you'd want to build it here but - and I don't need to hear of your vision again, Lord," he said, cutting Vladek off before he could say anything.

"Gundulf, one last thing," said Vladek.

"Yes, Lord"

"I want it to have a chapel" he said, turning around, Gundulf rolling his eyes one more time.

OOC: it costs a Mark to build a castle of this size, so I will pay and invite the community to aid in its construction. I may negotiate though on the price, but will spend up to a mark collectively. For example, I may need u/DapperCardiologist25 to help build the chapel or even u/medicus_vulneratum for the labourers

General Grimbold, having fallen ill from dysentery, is replaced by Marshal Hyngwelf of the Falcon Vassals of Lionne.

Under Lord Vladek's command, the army of Lionne has become a professional fighting force, not just some peasant levy. They have been drilled extensively for this improved type of combat, which, besides a few realms, is only practiced by Lionne.

First, the army forms a shield wall, with the Housecarls positioned up front, wielding their axes and shields. Hobgoblins lurk in front of the line to act as skirmishers and harass enemy formations.

Second, archers make up the rearguard and are positioned along the sides as well. They will prevent any flanking maneuvers.

Third, to prevent being flanked, 5 wartrolls are deployed to protect the sides. The army will not be surrounded. Should the enemy begin to press the shield wall in, the wall will move back slowly, luring the enemy in, while the wartrolls will run forward and surround the enemy. The enemy will then be pinned between the wall and the trolls at their sides and rear.

In addition, Lionne possesses 5 Hwach'as. Pictured here are three, which are positioned at the rear of the army. The Hwach'as will unleash their deadly fire on the enemy at the army's front.

While they are the most well-trained, this is only one small part of Lionne's total force.

Also pictured is Lionne high command.

General Grimbold is second-in-command. He is the victor of the Siege of Orlan Fortress, when the traitorous Marshal Daimbert was defeated. He harbors a strong hate for the True North over their blatant invasion and unprovoked takeover of The Arrad.

General Cedric was the Castellan of the Citadel of Lionne before its abandonment. He was the one who found Marshal Daimbert dead in his cell.

General Adric is the lord of the Royal Lion Vassals. Once a large faction, the Royal Lions have since diminished in size and are now essentially no different from the main army. They were among the first converts to the Anvardian religion and are remembered for refusing to participate in the Burning of Arathril. They are exceptionally loyal, though, as General Adric is to Lord Vladek.

Marshal Hyngwelf is the brother of the late Marshal Daimbert. he is the lord of the Falcon Vassals. Unlike his brother, though, he is loyal to Lord Vladek and a trusted confidant. Lord Vladek understands how useful Hyngwelf is due to his popularity with the people.

General Kentis was charged with securing the Unknown Isle. He possesses a strong hatred for the True North due to their takeover of the Unknown Isle after he had secured it and made it known that Lionne had claimed it.

Not much is known about Grimni the Dwarf. It is said that he is 600 to possibly over a thousand years old. He is rumored to have participated in the infamous battles of Parthention, the Battles of Vurren Bay, the Siege of Worronburg, and countless others. He has been a hidden observer of much of Rutland's history. Not much is known about his ancestry either - besides hearsay and conjecture. His best friend is a wartroll known as 'Brooz'.

Bishop Athanasius originally hails from Anvard. He was the one charged with deciphering the meaning of Lord Vladek's visions and serves as his spiritual advisor. He has been placed in charge of the fledgling Church of Lionne and deemed its first bishop.

The Wizard Dracus is a very powerful sorcerer. He has served as advisor to King Brutus the Brutal and now serves Lord Vladek. Recently, though, a feud has opened up between Vladek and Dracus, with Vladek condemning Dracus for using the arcane arts in place of the One True God. Only time will tell how this quarrel will resolve.

Lord Vladek the Skull-Taker is Lord of Lionne since the King's death. He has refused to take up the title of king, claiming to be acting as no more than Lionne's regent until one suitable may be found. He is the Savior of Orsca, victor of the Battle of the Orsca Sound, Burner of Arathril, mastermind of Lionne's army in the Three Sieges of the Wyrmguard, and has been in charge on such occasions as the Reclamation of The Arrad, the Retreat from Myyga, and the Retreat from The Arrad. The only battle he has not had a direct hand in or plan is the Siege of Orlan Fortress.

Bjorn the Belcher is the brother of Lord Vladek. He is known as 'Kegsbane' and possesses a strong affinity for ale, mead, beer, or anything that can get him wasted - which is why he hates malt beer and calls it piss-water whenever he sees it. He harbors a strong drunken rage for the True North, especially the Jorronking. His main goal in life is to moon the Jorronking, though, he fears that may never happen. He also likes to challenge others to belching or farting contests. He is who he is.

The core army of Lionne has perfected a new strategy under the command of Lord Vladek the Skull-Taker. The army will form a shield wall at the front, while archers will wait behind and at the flanks to prevent the army from being flanked. To compensate for their lack of cavalry, Lionne utilizes 5 wartrolls along the flanks as well. These beasts will protect the army from being surrounded and will also assist in striking the enemy from the sides as they press the shield wall in during any assault. Small Hobgoblins will also act as Skirmishers in front of the shield wall due to their size and harass enemy formations.

Pictured next is the high command of Lionne, with Lord Vladek in the center, his brother Bjorn, Marshal Hyngwelf of the Black Falcon vassals, the wizard Dracus, the dwarf Grimni Forkbeard, and Bishop Athanasius of Anvard.

To all Lords of Rutland! The Nidhogg mercenary band is now open for hire. We'll do any job for the right price.

From left to right: Brooz the wartroll with his 'little' crossbow (they call him 'Brooz' because he bruises those who annoy him - and anyone else he just doesn't like the look of), Belliger the gladiator, Buramog One-Eye, and Bruce (the leader, not to be confused with Brooz).

Who will hire?

Fleet is made up of civilians.

u/Glittering-Ship-5228 can you confirm? Are they under your protection?

The fleet brings many fine delicacies and items with it. Skilled artisans and craftsmen, a great deal of livestock, finely-woven banners and tapestries, ancient parchments, maps, and far more.

Many Pigs, goats, lambs, chickens, cattle.

A wide array of foodstuffs. Wheels of cheese, a wide variety of exotic fruits and vegetables, dried and salted fish and eels (a delicacy which was only produced on Allor before its fall), crabs.

Fine wines derived from the ancient vineyards of Allor, ones which have now been burnt and will never be seen again. These wines will never be seen again. Many are ancient, some having been brewed over a millenium ago.

Finely-woven rugs, banners, tapestries, and ancient parchments, manuscripts, and maps.

Chief among all these is the Nidhogg Tapestry, an ancient piece detailing the history of Lionne and their perspective on many of the happenings of Rutland since the age of Lord Blood and Nephran-Ka.

And among all the animals is a messenger Drake. These small dragons are highly valued and steeply priced due to their rarity, renowned for their durability and speed. They are used to swiftly communicate.

total price is 3 Marks and 4 Irons

The fleet takes port in Hansk, hopefully under the protection of the Knights of Gruener Baer

u/Glittering-Ship-5228

Lord Vladek limped forward into the damp cave, it's walls barely visible in the dim candlelight. It had taken him some time to get here; he was emaciated, his skin badly burnt from months at sea. Being cast adrift and then enslaved could do that to a man.

He looked ahead, seeing an old man with a long beard, blue cloak, potions and satchels dangling from his belt and robe, and a pointy blue hat. In a high corner sat a small messenger drake, a gift, Dracus said, from James Drakemoor long ago. The wizard was standing above his seeing stone, the light it cast illuminating the cave. It cast a yellow light, and seemed nothing more than a lamp, but every now and then Vladek would catch something within it. Heavily distorted and visible for only the briefest of seconds, it could very well have been a trick of the mind - yet it was not. Brief glimpses of Allor, the Devil's Coals, the three sieges of the Wyrmguard, soldiers raising their battle axes above smoldering ruins, demons being summoned by vile incantations. Yes, the Wizard Dracus knew and saw many things.

"Why have you brought me here, Dracus?" asked Lord Vladek, a hint of annoyance in his voice, as for all the things he knew the old wizard was capable of, this seemed too far-fetched.

"Lord, there are things within the realms, problems you can not solve with sword and axe. The Mystic arts are known only to a few, and even fewer who can understand and embrace their full potential. You have come far too close to the precipice of ruin, Lord. We could not bear yet another humiliation," said the wizard, going here and there within the small confines of the cave, grabbing a vial off the shelf here, another there, stirring his kettles and cauldrons strewn about.

"A humiliation?!" retorted Vladek, "I fear no foul devilry of the Coals or any wretched wizard!"

"Oh, but Lord, you should. You have not yet seen the extent of dark sorcery, it is - " Vladek cut him off, saying, "I have not seen? I have gazed upon the shores of Orsca and watched as legions of the undead washed across it like pale waves. I have seen Skull Dragons devour souls in Arathril. I have witnessed first-hand the powers of the arcane and forbidden, so do not insult me in such a manner!"

"I make no insult, Lord," said the wizard, "I merely mean to say that these were things that could be bested by strength of arms. Foul incantations and spells of those more powerful than even myself! These can not be bested by swordcraft, Lord, and you must realize that. What concerns me greatly are the evil magics of the foul wizard, Nagash. No doubt the most powerful, in a league of his own."

"I do not fear an old man with bowel issues and a foul temperament. I have not once seen the wretch leave his throne or fortress! Only rumors of him in the Eye of Rutland at the head of his fleet was the most I ever heard of him, but that was when I was far younger. Now get to your point, though I believe I already know your intent, Dracus."

"Then trust me as you always have, Lord," said the wizard. "Have my actions not always been in service to you?"

"Stealing Nagash's bedpan was not in my best interest," replied Vladek.

Dracus looked down at his vials and bottles, for once at a loss of words.

"The One True God will protect me, Dracus. I have no use for spells and their ilk," continued Vladek.

"And when have you ever seen sign of this 'God', Lord, beyond a fever dream?! At least my works are clear as day!" a hint of annoyance present in the old man's voice.

Vladek turned round, about to burst out in rage at the wizard, when Dracus unleashed two bolts of lightning at the knight, stopping him still. At once, the very air in the cave began to change, the wizard seeming to grow taller, his voice deeper and more terrible. The candles in the room dimmed, Vladek unable to move as the seeing stone on the table began flashing violently, a vision of Rutland distorted within it, the realms seeming to fly past its gaze. The Wizard Dracus began his incantation.

Eg minnist føddar

Jatnir í frumtíð

Meg í forðum

Fostraðu minnist

The words were repeated for what seemed an eternity. Vladek's eyes rolled up, his pupils now hidden and only the white of his eyes remaining, his body convulsing. The wizard's voice continued, rising and falling, always deafeningly loud, the walls of the cave seeming like they would crack beneath his mighty words.

At last, the incantation ended. The seeing stone went dark, the candles flared to light again, Vladek slumped to the ground, breathing hard.

"What...have...you done to me?" He said in between gasps.

"I gave you what this 'One True God' would not," replied the wizard. "Your body will be safe against any foul magic seeking to alter it. I can not protect you from death, but at least you will have this assurance; your body will not be turned into something other than what it is," said the old man. Grabbing Vladek's face with his gnarled hand and holding it in place with a strength unbecoming of one so ancient, he poured a vial down the knight's throat, clamping Vladek's mouth shut and tilting his head back. "Swallow!" the wizard roared. Vladek gulped once, the contents scaldingly hot, he could feel them running their course down his throat. Dracus released his grasp.

"I am sorry, Lord, but I have done these things for your benefit."

"My benefit!" roared Vladek, "This now tarnishes my soul, this heathen magic you have profaned me with!"

"Should you be captured and beheaded, your body will be turned to ash," said the wizard

"To Ash!" roared Vladek, his fury rising. "And where shall I be buried and welcomed into the heavens?! My body shall have no resting place! I might as well have been sent to Hell! I shall be damned to wander the Earth as a disembodied spirit, You did this to me, I will - " Dracus cut him off

"I will not have another king's head be Lionne's shame!" said the wizard sharply, "If the One True God can not bring your soul without body to his realm, then perhaps he is not much of a god! I doubt your body is profaned, Lord. You had no issue with the use of my magic beforehand. Why now?"

"Because beforehand, it was not turned on me," said Vladek, staggering up. "Beforeheand it was not used in place of the One True God. Do not speak such insults and blasphemies of him, wizard," his tone becoming sour and vile at the last word.

"I have cast spells to protect your form, Lord. The form the One True God made you in. There is room for both the divine and the arcane, Lord. They are not always in opposition," said the wizard.

"But when used by someone who has not embraced the divine and only serves the arcane," replied Vladek.

"Maybe so Lord, maybe so," replied the wizard, his tone tired of the conversation.

A look of disbelief and betrayal flashed across Vladek's face. At a loss for words, he could have shouted, he could have throttled the old man, oh, how he wished. Yet Dracus had always been loyal to him since the death of Brutus, he could not drive himself to harm the old wizard. He had expected Dracus to attempt to seize power and appoint himself the ruler of Lionne, but he had not. He had always respected Vladek's judgment. For a moment, he felt that the wizard's actions had truly been in his favor. But then that feeling departed swiftly. Vladek limped out of the cave, muttering curses, a feeling of betrayal and the need to repent for letting the heathen profane his holy soul weighing heavily on him...

To all the Lords of Rutland, kings and lords alike:

Your insults have reached my ears. Every day I hear them, clamoring about, condemning me as the most wretched and vile lord to have ever graced this world. You are deceived.

All the lords have been fooled, fooled by realms such as Sturgia, into believing lies. Lies about Lionne, which have caused you to judge us on nothing more than lies and false accusations made by a fool.

You speak of the Burning of Arathril. Yes, I have heard many things of it from many whose eyes witnessed nothing at the siege, from those who were not present or left because of cowardice. Do you truly believe the lies of the likes of Sturgia, the Oathbreaker?

Or need I remind you that they can not be trusted? Need I remind you that Sturgia broke their peace with Anvard after challenging them to a duel? That they were oh so eager to forget their peace when it suited them most - that is to join yet another wretched oathbreaker, the Wyrmguard? And perhaps many of you have forgotten their betrayal of our trust upon the shores of Myyga, a supposed 'peaceful kingdom' which threatened endlessly to do away through force with every lord of these realms?

And should I speak of their further betrayal, when we were informed that they would host a peace summit, and that should we refuse their invitation, it would lead to war? All have conveniently forgotten these things in the face of one who hides under the name 'Victim of The West'. Lies! We came to their summit and were answered with an invasion of Lionne in The Arrad and Ashada in Kandor Hook.

And should I remind you of this victim's acquaintances? The death-crazed Blood and Skull Dragons who turned Harragos into a great field of gore, an altar to their heathen abomination of a god? And what of the Horde, a mindless rabble who seeks to slaughter their way across the realm for no rational reason? But you have forgotten that...

We offered peace to Sturgia beforehand. That has been forgotten. We offered a duel to Wenceslaus who had boasted of his defeat of High-King Eric Trollbane, the Vanquisher of Lord Blood himself. If he could supposedly defeat such a great king, then why would he fear us out of any other reason than sheer cowardice? Again we offered Queen Helena to exchange Wenceslaus for the lives of her people. Only a coward would refuse and Wenceslaus the Accursed did such.

It is oft framed by those who witnessed nothing that we hewed infants in two and cut open all, making no distinction for man, woman, or child. That is false.

Any lord in time of siege would secure his people in his great keep. We thought the same. Soldiers fled within the seemingly abandoned homes. Should we have sacrificed our own lives for the Oathbreaker's army which had already invaded us for no reason as we attended his peace summit? There was no confirmation that these homes were yet occupied. But the coward Wenceslaus knew what he had done.

I only objected due to the possibility which crossed my mind, though I knew it to be untrue.

He sacrificed his people as a human shield, knowing full well it would turn him into the victim and tarnish our armor with blood.

Only once victory was ensured and the damage done did he challenge us to a duel.

And have I forgotten how it was told by him that he would not summon his allies for our 'little warmonering alliance'? Well, of course as I should have known, his word could not be trusted. Perhaps our army proved to mighty for the coward - who never even left his keep yet left his people outside, knowing full-well that any siege will result in the destruction of a city.

The death of so many weighs heavily upon my soul, and it is a burden and regret I shall always carry, but I never knew of the presence of the innocents. I only feared for a second that it might be true, but foolishly dismissed it. Sturgia is the one who knew full well that their people would be slaughtered unknowingly. They allowed this to happen. How should I have known? I have sought peace for my sins with the One True God. May he accept me into his presence when the Oathbreaker and his allies finally bring me to an end.

My body bears the marks: I am disfigured, in pain endlessly, and walking alone has become a hardship even. I bear the marks when Sturgia says I was not punished.

I hope all within the realms will finally see through the lies of this wretch and realize the threat of the undead and their ilk before it is too late...

As you know me, Lord Vladek the Skull-Taker, Lord of Lionne, Savior of Orsca, Pillager of Arathril

Manned by ten soldiers not sent to the three sieges of the Wyrmguard. 1 sea serpent lurks beneath the waves as well.

u/Hot_Plankton6742

u/Silvertree99 do they make it without being intercepted?

I suggest that these things should be allowed with the following restrictions:

1. are easily shot down and fragile
2. can not be used in an offensive capacity
3. can only seat up to one person at a max
4. can not be advanced beyond what has already been established
5. Essentially point 2, but these things can not be used to drop any sort of ordnance as it would either be too heavy or the balloon would be easily seen and destroyed by simply firing an arrow at it

The lore-implications are great. they can be used to survey the map, trade small items, swiftly travel, etc.

Comment down below (since I don't know how to create a poll)

Lionne, sailing with the Anvardian fleet to the Wyrmguard, sends 209 soldiers, 4 warships, 2 rowboats, 1 sea serpent, 5 wartrolls, 1 rancor, 1 swamp dweller, 5 hwach'as, 1 giant ballista, 1 small ballista, 1 giant trebuchet.

120 soldiers will be sent to Valinvaga to join Anvard alongside 2 hwach'as, 3 wartrolls, 1 siege ladder, and 1 giant ballista

35 soldiers will be sent to join Anvard in Haverhal alongside 1 hwach'a, 1 small ballista, 1 wartroll, 1 rancor

45 soldiers will be sent to join Anvard in Bjorsland alongside 1 wartroll, 1 swamp dweller, 1 giant trebuchet, 2 hwach'as

Fleet will withdraw alongside sea serpent so as not to be targeted and will be kept safe

Soldiers can form a shield wall with shields from viking ship

fleet also drops off 5 cannons: 2 cannons to Bjorsland, 2 cannons to Valinvaga, 1 cannon to Haverhal

The Heathens will burn...

u/Silvertree99