FSTGOD3 Preliminary Diplomacy Thread

[Lia]

*In Taurhold*

Elves and Gar alike were awed by the press of humanity, the great, heavy buildings set so firmly in the earth. The gleaming gates were already something beyond comparison, the great stone buildings far thicker, heavier, sturdier than anything the Gar could boast.

For the T'eseh elves, these were things of story, legend, half-remembered in tales passed on through generations. For the Gar, they were even more alien.

This land is heavy and strange, N'dhka churruped to his translator. Pray we not tarry long here.

"The sun shines here, too, S'ekya. Should I give directions as to the needs of the Sh'khen personally, or would you have another?" Mitaya asked, a bare whisper to the tall, hooded figure.

Stay by me. The Flesh-Beast tongue is beyond me, and by their looks, neither of us are within their seed-knowing. It is T'ehkis' duty to see to the Sh'khen...this one knows how fussy your people get if their duties are given to another.

Mitaya gave a wry smile. "I shall let him know, S'ekya. That one never was very good at understanding the songs."

She gave a low whistle, summoning forth one of the Thorns, all of whom had seemed quite awkward with their unstrung bows through this, their empty quivers. Directions went through the ranks, as few as they were, and the young man rattled off directions about the great, verdant butterfly beasts' needs. Blessedly, few there were... room to sun themselves and water being all they truly needed. A little soil mixed into their water couldn't hurt, but they could do without for now.

Once they were settled, Mitaya found herself explaining that most of their needs involved water, loose earth, and somewhere to sun for the Gar. The earth was probably the hardest part to explain. "Something rich, preferably. As you would use for your crops. Not much, about...a bowlful each? They would hardly root here," she'd explain to the servant, smiling crookedly at her joke. "And as for my people, we require food, facilities for washing, the sort of things your people use, I presume. We do look rather similar."

N'dhka stood by her all the while, like a towering child. His hood remained down here, the verdant fin atop his head expanding and retracting every now and again. His eyes, he kept lowered, or above others. Never, never did he look straight on at anyone. The other Gar were clustered, churruping and warbling amongst themselves, occasionally to the Thorns who understood their tongue. The Seedless Gar wore only what amounted to loincloths over their slender, insect-meets-tree-meets-man bodies, an aquiescence to what they understood to be a tradition among flesh-beasts of covering oneself.

[Agent Fisher]

Adalstein

The Rider nudged her mount and Shalino landed. Adani slid off the sadle, sword at her side, and turned towards one of the guards.

"Greetings. I am Preator Adani. I have come to speak with your king concerning trade."

[Cynical Cat]

The gates of Nightguard Keep opened and the Shining Knights rode forth. Glitting silver banners with the gold helix of the lumen emblazed upon it hung from pennets, providing a potent barrier to hostile sorcery. Armour of gleaming dwarven mail was attached to enchanted leathers of mordent panther hide. Lumen blessed blades of and lances of dwarven steel were held in armoured hands or hung from harnasses. Maces of black steel, enscribed with curses, provided an alternative to the use of edged weapons.

Among their ranks were a black cloaked man and a woman who bore brilliant flame designs on their collars. Each sorcerer of rank was attended by a pair of initiates, whose collars had brilliant scarlet flames but lacked gold thread. Iron handed and grim faced men rode close, their bodyguards who had been bound by witch death oaths to fight on beyond the grave in defence of their charges.

At their center rode a tall man wearing a black cloak over midnight mail. A war mask derived from his own features covered his face and a spike crowned helm guarded his head. Green fire boiled in the eyesockets. In his hand he held the dread spear Biter and from his belt hung the great and terrible mace Marrowcrusher. The Witch King was going to war.

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The dread wyrm slithered up the hill with terrible speed. Arrows bounced off its scales or bit shallowly. It hissed and sprayed forth corrosive venom as it approached the defences.

"Witches!" shouted Jennas. "Bind the dying ghosts!". Spells of paralysis and pinches of powder were dribbled on the the bodies of pinned or dying quicksilver ghosts. "Archers! Dip your arrows."

There was no part of the a quicksilver ghost that was not dangerous days after its death. Arrows pierced the monster's dying bodies and emerged stained with their purple blood. "'Ware the blood!" a ranger cried.

Arrows flew. Most failed to bite. A few did. The dread wyrm smashed forward, crashing over the ditch and the barricade. A few brave men tried to block its path with spears. Steel slid off its scales and corrosive venom flew. Jaws closed with a dreadful crunch. Five good men perished.

Another volly flew. At close range, with a better target, more arrows struck and bit. The dread wyrm thrashed and screamed. Men fell with smoking venom burning through their flesh. The dread wyrm twisted and coiled and lashed out aimlessly. The northerners retreated, to let the wyrm thrash and die out of harm's reach.

"Lumen have mercy," said Thorkel. "What in the Witch King's name could set such a beast upon on us?"

"A fay queen," said Jennas. "Somewhere, out there, is a mound and inside there are fay and ruling them is a queen. Only one such as she could have done this."

[LadyTevar]

Rurik smiled broadly, bowing in return, his shoulder-length golden-blond hair falling forward. Brushing it back with an offhand gesture, he continued the pleasantries. "The fishermen have stories of meeting your people out at sea, yet that is all we know of you. Please, join me at my keep for dinner, and allow me to show you the hospitality of the Nithgaard."

"We accept your kind offer." It made another gesture, which the other four also made in kind.
"Please, lead as you will."

The Skarlagger party was lead thru the city. Unlike Abhainglas, Heronter was built around a great crescent bay, with the keep Heronter on the outermost tip. The roads seemed to have little rhyme or reason in how they were laid out, yet Duke Rurik led them effortlessly. As he walked, he would greet the citizens, who would give glad greetings in return. It was obvious that Rurik was a well-loved leader, and just as obvious that the Skarlagger were not seen as a threat.

The Keep was built of heavy stones, weathered from the harsh winter storms that blew up all too quickly along the Channel Isles. Built similarly to its sister-Keep in AbhainGlas, here was a castle meant to stave off invasion, and yet once past the defenses the Nithgaard's love of decoration shown clearly as tapestries and paintings hung the walls, with tables and chairs both carved whimsically.

The Sarklaggers were set down to a fine meal. First, a soup with tender root vegetables, followed by roast fowl served with wild rice. Then came venision, braised in wine.

[The Silence and I]

The Skarlagger party was lead thru the city. Unlike Abhainglas, Heronter was built around a great crescent bay, with the keep Heronter on the outermost tip. The roads seemed to have little rhyme or reason in how they were laid out, yet Duke Rurik led them effortlessly. As he walked, he would greet the citizens, who would give glad greetings in return. It was obvious that Rurik was a well-loved leader, and just as obvious that the Skarlagger were not seen as a threat.

The Keep was built of heavy stones, weathered from the harsh winter storms that blew up all too quickly along the Channel Isles. Built similarly to its sister-Keep in AbhainGlas, here was a castle meant to stave off invasion, and yet once past the defenses the Nithgaard's love of decoration shown clearly as tapestries and paintings hung the walls, with tables and chairs both carved whimsically.

The Sarklaggers were set down to a fine meal. First, a soup with tender root vegetables, followed by roast fowl served with wild rice. Then came venision, braised in wine.

The five guests admired everything with an eagerness befitting their race. As they were treated to the wonderous meal the leader offered stories from their mythology and of their lives in the cold North in the blue-grey waters and around the snow covered mountains. Skilled mimics they quickly learned some concept of how to use tableware and the learning curve was short and mostly uneventful. Lacking lips, they found the best approximation to how the Elves used their cups was to bend the water from the cup to their mouths--a fascinating thing to watch for someone unawares of their abilities.

Although the Elves were not told of it, the climate here was much warmer than Skarklaggers prefer and the guests might have been very uncomfortable save for a continuous and conscious internal temperature regulation made possible by their magic.

[Stofsk]

"Greetings Lady Miranda of the Kingdom of Saint Steven. I am Avivoca, Archmage and Master of the City of Crysalmir. And this" he said gesturing to the Amphibian at his side
"Is Elan, Head of the Conclave and Magocrat of all Hylidaeius. We humbly welcome you to our city and country, and etend our full hospitality, such as it is, and humbly offer that you dine with us in the Tower."

"Thank you for the warm welcome Lord Avivoca! I am honoured by your receptio, and I graciously accept your dinner invitation."

Fulgrim advances the exact distance prescribed by protocal and bows deeply. "Your Majesty, I bring you the greetings of my immortal master Malevan, Witch King of the Confederacy of Dusk, Firelord, Defender of the Light, Keeper of the Gates of Twilight, Lord of Night. A campaign to subdue the dangers of the Gates of Hunger has been undertaken and has enjoyed much success. Travel and trade between our two realms shall become easier and it is the Witch King's will that I bring you a message of goodwill and friendship, along with hopes for future prosperity for both our peoples."

"Trade between our peoples have been mutually beneficial. I see no reason why this cannot extend to friendship. What does the Witch King propose?"

@ Frigidmagi: Steven Dobo requests an audience of the Priest King and Queen.

[Cynical Cat]

"My master," Fulgrim spoke, "wishes a formalization of our peaceful and prosperous relations. With the taming of the Gates of Hunger, trade and contact will increase. We are both honourable peoples, but some of customs differ. There is also the matter of taxes, tolls, and trading rights granted by the crown. It is the will of my master that such matters be resolved with his brother monarch before conflict occurs."

[Rogue 9]

As ambassadors travelled to dwarves, the Holy Kingdom of Saint Stephen, and the Allied Water Walker tribes, other preparation were underway. Night fell, as it always does. The stars shown from the heavens as a dark form looked out across the water. Azzerekess, the Night Dragon, took to the sky.

The dragon was as black as night, save for his silver eyes. As he rose up and then flew across the water, stars glimmered faintly on his wings. Those who saw him would see only the night sky. As he had done for the last three nights, the mighty dragon looked down upon Viconia and her fleets, noting their positions and defences from high above. Soon enough would come the time of slaughter.

Most of the Viconian fleet's heavy warships lay at anchor, though about half of their light craft were not in view. Mobile ballistae were stationed around the harbor as well as the walls of the city itself, and troops patrolled the walls like they do almost anywhere. The Night Dragon had noted a couple of the Viconian light ships as well as a pair of heavy warships in the channel during the flight across, but there were two or three vessels unaccounted for.

[Ra]

Faer Elloth, Palace of Moonwing

"Greetings, embassies," said Gilarnad. He bowed his head in respect, and continued, "I am Gilarnad Gwalchmai, Faer Elloth Arbiter of Trade."

The diplomats bowed to Gilarnad. "Greetings. We shall begin than? As you are able to speak for the others of the alliance?" Liam took a seat as the others did.

"Of course," said Gilarnad. "What sort of commodoties would you be interested in trading? The Alliance has many products it could provide for you, whether exotic magical items or mundane agricultural goods."

Adalstein

The Rider nudged her mount and Shalino landed. Adani slid off the sadle, sword at her side, and turned towards one of the guards.

"Greetings. I am Preator Adani. I have come to speak with your king concerning trade."

The guard straightened his horned helm slightly, his face somewhat betraying surprise that someone had come into Yoratha mounting a wyrm.

"Of course, m'lady, I shall alert him at once," he said.

The guard marched from his post, soon coming up to Captain Thormod Asmundsson, who was watching the city walls.

"Captain, I have a visitor from the Agon Holds wishing to see King Frodi," the guard explained.

"I had just received word that the King was on his way to meet with the elves due to another request for trade. Both him and the Yorathan King are going," said Thormod. "However, if we hurry, we may catch him. Thank you, soldier, you may return to your post. If you would follow me, m'lady?"

As the guard went off, Captain Thormod marched on, through the old but graceful streets and walls of Adalstein. Towering over most of the buildings nearby was a large temple to Odin, and shortly beyond that, the Arnesson Keep.

The King himself could be seen in his golden armor, flanked by several soldiers as they made ready a small caravan. The King himself was standing below a massive and breathtaking statue of the Valkyrie Skuld, portrayed as a beautiful but haunting winged woman with a feathered helm, and holding a rounded shield and a spear. By her left leg was a massive wolf, her mount in battle.

King Frodi noticed the soldier and woman approaching, and stepped forward, removing his helm.

"My King," said the Captain, "We have a visitor. This is Praetor Adani, from the Agon Holds. She wishes to negotiate trade with us."

King Frodi bowed his head in respect, despite being a king, and said, "Well met, Praetor. I am King Frodi Arnesson, the ruler of this city and its environs. Though nothing would honor me more than to invite you into my castle as my guest, I would first ask if mayhap would be willing to ride out to Faer Elloth on this caravan? Queen Thiniell sounded rather urgent about getting myself and King Hywel out there. If not, I am sure she will understand the delay."

[frigidmagi]

Once they were settled, Mitaya found herself explaining that most of their needs involved water, loose earth, and somewhere to sun for the Gar. The earth was probably the hardest part to explain. "Something rich, preferably. As you would use for your crops. Not much, about...a bowlful each? They would hardly root here," she'd explain to the servant, smiling crookedly at her joke. "And as for my people, we require food, facilities for washing, the sort of things your people use, I presume. We do look rather similar."

The servant was a young novice who came from a farming family himself. He grasped it almost at once.

"Ah, yes I understand my lady. We shall see to it, your rooms do ajoin the public gardens, so if they should require more your... trees? Should feel free to make use of them. There will be families and such in the gardens however so..." The novice shrugged and hurriedly continued.

"My lord wishes to know if you would prefer some rest or whether your ambassador would be able to meet the PriestKing and Queen tomorrow. They would met you now but they are meeting a Saint General and have just completed speaking to an envoy from the walking dead." He finished.

[Agent Fisher]

Adani returned the bow to the King. "I would be honored to accompany you."

She sent a mental message to Shalino. Come join me. We are going for a ride.

Very well, young one.

"Tell me, M'Lord, what exactly does your kingdom have to offer for trade."

Shalino landed next to her. She looked back at her dragon.

"I'm ready to go whenever you are."

[Comrade Tortoise]

"Thank you for the warm welcome Lord Avivoca! I am honoured by your receptio, and I graciously accept your dinner invitation."

"Excellent my lady! But, your journey must have been very long and tiring. I will personally you and your retinue to your quarters. Dinner will be served in two hours. Hopefully that should be long enough to rest and relax a bit. If not, let us know, and dinner can be postponed. We have quite the treat prepared for you, and want you to enjoy it"

[Cynical Cat]

The Witch King's column marched into the port town of Skarabrak and was greeted by cheering crowds. Word of their arrival had proceeded them by a day and that time had been used. Girls threw flowers at the soldiers feet, boys shouted, and banners waved in the wind.

As was his custom, Malevan retained his warmask, hiding his face from the crowd. He extended his hand and pastel streamers of light, vivid blues, bright reds, and vibrant greens; shot from his fingers and snaked around the streets before disolving into motes of light. Phantasmal dragonlings of blue fire circled and wheeled above the crowd, much to their delight.

It was latter that a council of war was held. Malevan joined Marshal Theodocius on a hill overlooking the town. A table and map had been set up. The marshal's blunt, calloused fingers stabbed down on the map. "Most of them are tied up in the harbour. Ballista's with enchanted bolts guard the harbour and the city, not safe for fliers. Can't get close. A few others on patrol."

"They are in position to intercept our trade and watch us, but the bulk of their forces are protected," said Malevan. "I expected as much."

"They are not such fools to be as easy meat as last time," said Theodocius. "And our navy hasn't changed much."

"My fault," said Malevan. "I thought it would seem too provocetive. Too big a sign of invasion. I thought they could be talked into alliance or joining, but that is not the case. Now good men are going to die because of my error. Let us discuss how to rectify it."

"With difficulty," a voice whispered from the woods. "They have learned from you."

Malevan turned to his marshal. Here, where appearances did not matter, he did not wear his war mask. "Suggestions?"

"We can burn their pickets, but that won't hurt them much. Their fleet is protected. We could keep them bottled up and land an invasion, but they would challenge us or simply let us land and strike them. We possess to few ships to land a serious threat to Viconia without much magic. So before we move to conquer, the pieces on the board must change. That change should be what we move for."

"Agreed," said Malevan. "Shall we begin?"

[Lia]

The servant was a young novice who came from a farming family himself. He grasped it almost at once.

"Ah, yes I understand my lady. We shall see to it, your rooms do ajoin the public gardens, so if they should require more your... trees? Should feel free to make use of them. There will be families and such in the gardens however so..." The novice shrugged and hurriedly continued.

"My lord wishes to know if you would prefer some rest or whether your ambassador would be able to meet the PriestKing and Queen tomorrow. They would met you now but they are meeting a Saint General and have just completed speaking to an envoy from the walking dead." He finished.

A flash of mirth shone in Mitaya's eyes at the 'tree' title. She then glanced back at the tall, cloaked figure behind her. N'dhka trilled, warbled, strange eyes moving over the novice a moment, then churruped.

Mitaya bowed slightly, then turned to the servant. "N'hdka speaks: It is most discourteous to trouble elders after such an eventful day. Your courtesies are accepted with greatest appreciation, and it would be pleasing to eren to meet with your elders with the birth of the sun anew, that new light give life to partnership amongst our people."

She ducked her head, a minor bow, at the end of her translation, then spoke again. "Why would it be a problem, people in the garden? It would not trouble the Gar'lar'andh, to see folks so like we T'eseh. They all understand your speach, Eren, it is merely that they cannot speak it themselves. Even as The Songs are of great difficulty for those such as you and I."

[Stofsk]

"My master," Fulgrim spoke, "wishes a formalization of our peaceful and prosperous relations. With the taming of the Gates of Hunger, trade and contact will increase. We are both honourable peoples, but some of customs differ. There is also the matter of taxes, tolls, and trading rights granted by the crown. It is the will of my master that such matters be resolved with his brother monarch before conflict occurs."

"Conflict? What conflict?"

[Cynical Cat]

"None at the moment," Fulgrim said, "majesty. They are, however, inevitable when large amounts of money at stake. Which is why I have been sent to negotiate over such matters."