FSTGOD3 Preliminary Diplomacy Thread

[Rogue 9]

Another day at court. King Artair ascended his throne of state and sat boredly as the courtiers went about their politicking. He was supposed to receive ambassadors today, but with the roads the way they were, Tyr only knew whether they would actually arrive.

[You don't have to respond to this. Feel free to send ambassadors, letters, trade proposals, etc. to whoever.]

[Comrade Tortoise]

Elan poured over a tome of lore. This one about a group of fellow amphibians who lived father up north along the coast. He turned a page by tapping one of his long green fingers against a page and lifting the page to its new position. It was the early morning and he was enjoying a light breakfast of honey glazed termites and fried centipedes, with a nice breakfast tea to wash it down with. He was clad in nothing save what basically amounted to a set of silk trousers and dearskin padded moccasins.

He was head of the conclave of mages and thus technially head of state in Hylidaeus. His tower loomed over the city of Crysalisian, a giant spire wrapped in magical wards and protections against scrying. He shared the tower with Avivoca, the city's Archmage.

Avivoca seemed to appear out from behind a bead curtain and wrapped his hands around Elan's shoulders and chirped affectionatly, earning a kiss on the hand.

"So, have you recieved word from Lorak yet?" he asked

"No not...wait... just did" the senior wizard replied. "He has just arrived in Eire"

...

A yellow skinned, or Frostian Hylidaeian lept from the branches of a tree down onto the road. Before him was the no man's land leading to the capitol city of the Eire-Pict Royal Confederation. The journey was very, very, long. And he traveled alone and relatively inconspicuous. Save for an attempt at banditry along the road. They were left for the crows.

He beheld the massive walled city with his piercing blue eyes. He then muttered a few words and his non-descript traveling clothes transformed into a dazeling silk robe bearing the symbol of Hylidaeius on the chest and both shoulders.

He proceeded toward the city. His hand then moved and what appeared to be four archers and six heavy infantry appeared before him. The archers were clad in studded leather embossed and carved with beautiful forest reliefs, their arrows having silver knocks.

The infantry were in ceremonial, but apparantly very functional armor, with gilded shields and longswords instead of the usual Hylidaeian heavy mace.

He mentally commanded his illusory guards to move forward as he himself advanced toward the gate, coming from under the canopy of trees and visible to the city guard a few moments later.

[Rogue 9]

The massive curtain walls of Dunsbane Castle loomed before the ambassador and his illusory party. The gate was open and drawbridge down, though guards stood in the gatehouse.

[Charon]

Seven groups of ships left port from Koronan held lands.

Five of them came from the capital cities port, carrying diplomats and Koronan treasures. Two of the groups headed Southwest, heading for the lands of the Yorathan and the LahkNi. Two headed North, one heading for the edges of the Elves territory, the other embarked on a long and perilous journey North, to make contact with the large bears that were rumoured to live in the North. The last headed South, to make greater contact with the Magicians and Dragon riders who lived to the South.

A small cadre of warships departed from Port Geram, they too headed South, escorting the diplomat for a time before they would go about their own mission along the Southern border of the continent.

The last ship small merchant vessel made it's way through the bay as well. It's destination was not the heathen Elves however, but the destination lay on the other side of the bay, where the amphibians lived. This would not have been an oddity in anyway, save for the cargo on board, or more specifically, the man. Gregori Bradley, Holy Inquisitor of Dahhok stood on the deck of the ship as the spray of the waves filled the air, looking intently in the direction of his destination. An older man came up behind the young Inquisitor and guffawed.

"Staring won't make us get there any faster lad. Though perhaps if ye pray for better winds we may."

Gregori turned to face the captain of the merchant ship, his religious vestiments blowing around him in the breeze. The symbol of the Inquisition, a Triangle with a rose blossom inset dangled from a chain on his neck. A giant two-handed hammer dragged on the deck slightly as Gregori turned. The favored weapon of the Inquisitor, Word of Dahhok, glowed a deep blue as the runes inset upon it glowed faintly. The Inquisitor smiled at the man.

"Unfortunately, we shall only arrive when Dahhok believes we should, I would suggest we pray to keep the daemons away though."

The captain of the ship quickly looked around. "Is it true that ye really see daemons Inquisitor?"

Gregori placed a hand on the captains shoulder. "Please, call me Gregori. And yes, I do."

[Comrade Tortoise]

The archmage reached the gates and dropped into a frog-like crouch before the guardsman, an equivalent to bowing and showing respect and defference. He let out a warbeling chirp ceremonially before standing up.

"I am Lorak Archmage of Elisime and Diplomatic Envoy to the Eire-Pict Royal Confederation from Hylidaeius. I have been summoned by King Artair to attend his court for a diplomatic conference" he said firmly with a tone of authority

he held forth the scroll with the Eire-Pict Royal Seal for inspection

"I seek admittance into the city, and hospitality." he said softly with more give to it. As if to signify that he was, despite his status, essentially at the mercy of the city at this point. He wasnt really, he could make the trip back if he really had to, but he didnt want to come off as overly demanding to the poor man who had the misfortune of drawing gate duty

[Rogue 9]

The captain of the gate watch took the scroll respectfully and inspected the seal and the inscriptions.

"All seems to be in order, Ambassador," he said, returning the scroll to the amphibian while waving two fingers over his left shoulder. "These men will escort you to the Keep," he continued as two armored guards bearing ornate halberds came up behind him.

[Comrade Tortoise]

The mage nodded respectfully, letting out a similar chirp, which the illusory guards also repeated.

"Thank you" he said, and followed the guards to the keep

[Agent Fisher]

Taldarin astride his mount, Draco, gazed at the city of Paltar.

Amazing, isn't it, Draco? Taldarin sent mentally to his mount.

Yes, Tal, it is. Just like it was the first time you saw it. Draco replied, his mental voice heavy with sarcasm.

He shook his head, and nudged his mount and it winged its way to the city. He landed on a clearing, near the capital building, remember where from his last trip to the city, many years ago. He slid off of the dragon's back, his sword, resting in its scabbard on his belt, banging against his leg, and turned towards the city guards that were slowly surrounding him, making sure he did nothing dangerous.

He spoke to the guard with the most impressive looking uniform.

"I am Praetor Taldarin, of the Agon Holds. I have come to meet with your Prime Minister."

[Exileman]

As the group of ships hailing from the Koronan Empire arrived in EscaR, the Lady PohF and Sir CiR were both there to greet them. Along with a contingient of the local guard if necessary. But, despite the prescence of the guard, no one appeared to be hostile. In a loud voice belying her slender frame, Lady PohF declared welcome to those from Koronan.
"We welcome you to our humble Isle of LahkNi. As soon as you are properly docked and anchored, we can begin preparations to make it to the capital. It should be a leasurly days ride."

[Comrade Tortoise]

Father Asmodeus was waiting for Inquisitor Gregori when his ship arrived at its destination. He was clad in a similar black vestment with chainmail underneath, with a black shield and an enchanted heavy mace strapped to his back and side respectively. He wore the symbol of the inquisition on a chain around his neck, and the symbol of Hylidaeus was emblazoned on the shield. He was an arm of the church, as well as independantly an arm of the state. And he had to balance the two functions without letting one interfere overmuch with the other.

He let out a warble of greeting when he caught sight of the other cleric however.

[frigidmagi]

Northern border of the Netherese Republic

God and Goddess I am tired Maltian thought has he wiped his brow. It had been a round about trip to the fabled realm of Netherese, first through the lands of the horsemen, then over the Great Lake and through the wilds to here. The diplomats who roved the Inner Ocean had it easy. His party was looking ragged and his horse's head hung down, as it keep moving forward. With any luck though he would get to see that floating mountain from the tales.

"Sir, a border guard station ahead." Reported one of his guards.

"Ah. Right Then, thank you Sgt. Best go make a good impression yes?" He said with a grin as he nudged his horse forward.

[SirNitram]

"I am Praetor Taldarin, of the Agon Holds. I have come to meet with your Prime Minister."

"Your weapon will be peace-bonded, your mount will not accompany you." The guard said simply, bluntly. A prediction, not an order: Seeing the Prime Minister would require the things he said.

It was shortly thereafter, with Draco given accomodations appropriate to his size and intellect, and a fancy knot on the sword to prevent it from being drawn, that the Praetor was brought to the Prime Minister.

All ten feet of him was finishing weapons practice. He and his apparent opponent were fighting with one handed blades, their other hands free. Both were seeking an opening, occasionally striking, but it seemed a stalemate until the larger figure lunged.. Missed.. And the smaller man released his blade, grabbed the half-ogre, and executed a surprisingly forceful throw to the far wall.

The guard chose that moment to clear his throat, and both fighters looked up. The half-ogre hauled himself up, sheathing his blade. "Enough, Valeron. It seems politics will require my attentions." Malkamar strode towards the Praetor. "How may I assist you?"

[Comrade Tortoise]

Elan sighed as he got up and walked out of the room, down the hall, descended a straight shaft down to a lower floor and popped his head out of a doorway.

"Uriens?"

"Yes archmagus?" the young apprentice replied before crouching and warbeling

"I need you to dispatch a message with my seal. Requesting the presense of an emmisary from the church in the Koronan Empire. I have a matter that needs to be discussed regarding certain coastal cities that should probably be discussed with someone higher up in the church hierarchy than our priesthood. Use a carrier pigeon, I dont want the chance of a courier being waylayed"

"Yes master" the boy said, and began drafting a letter.

[Charon]

The odd Koronan ship with it's strange sails pulled easily into the harbor and a man cloaked in red robes stepped up into sight.

"I look forward to the ride through your nations lush environment Lady PohF. I am Harold Jiham."

The diplomat stepped down the plank of the ship, his small entourage following him down, carrying gifts for their hosts. Harold bowed low to the Lord and Lady.

"I bring with me gifts of silk and fine wine for you to indulge in." The entourage handed off the gifts to the servants of the Lady PohF and stepped back once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inquisitor Gregori grinned as he heard the warble, to the best of his human capability he returned it, terribly. Waving to his fellow man of the cloth. A few minutes later the small boat carrying Gregori reached the shore. The Inquisitor enthusiastically jumped out into the shin deep water and waded the rest of the way. The boat itself then turned back and headed back to the merchant ship where they would cast off.

Inquisitor Gregori bowed deeply to Asmodeus. "Greetings Father, it is good to see you again." Gregori stood tall again and looked back at the merchant ship which was casting off. "I know you must not have been entirely eager to meet me in such heretical location as this."

[Comrade Tortoise]

The amphibian grinned at Gregori

"It is always a pleasure to see you Gregori." The senior clergyman said before shrugging dispassionatly

"All things were created by Dahhok, therefore there is no heretical place. The only heresy lies in thoughts, actions, and creatures of evil"

The cleric smirked wryly

"Besides, I was in the area."

[Agent Fisher]

Malkamar strode towards the Praetor. "How may I assist you?"

Taldarin bowed to the Minister. "My lord, I have come to discuss the boring matters of trade and of a possible alliance. I shall endeavour to not take too much of your time. I am sure you have much more important things to attend to." He said while gazing at the Prime Minister. It was the first time one of the council would meet this half-ogre, and Taldarin had been sent, not just to discuss matters of state, but to gauge this leader of state. And what he saw so far, impressed him.

[Charon]

The amphibian grinned at Gregori

"It is always a pleasure to see you Gregori." The senior clergyman said before shrugging dispassionatly

"All things were created by Dahhok, therefore there is no heretical place. The only heresy lies in thoughts, actions, and creatures of evil"

The cleric smirked wryly

"Besides, I was in the area."

Gregori nodded slowly. "Once again I am shown why I am but a humble Councilor. But I can assure you Father, the place where we are now is filled with creatures of evil and with dark thoughts. You know where we are now, and you know what is nearby. As such I was charged by the Holy Father to investigate and assist you in the banishing of daemons."

Gregori held out a scroll marked with the seal of the Holy Church of Dahhok. "But I do not believe matters are so pressing that a hot meal and a lesson to the young cannot be arranged first." Gregori smiled as he hefted his travelling bag. "It has been a long time since my work has brought me to Hylidaeus and I'm certain we both have stories to tell."

[Masterharper]

Near the Morkan Fishing Town 'Rimeline' (Eastern Northern Ocean) The ship sent to investigate the lands of the Morusm had a long, perilous trek ahead of it. Rounding the continent and continuing a journey through the cold waters, in the dreary and gray oceans of the north, where exhalations cloud the sight and water formed slick rime on the deck. The weather, however, is in the clear season, and the winds favorable. As the ship began it's westward trajectory, the Borealis played over the skies, a supernatural-seeming air of colors, lending a magical feel to the cold nights, and as the light plays through the sky, it almost seems to whisper in a foriegn tongue.

Catching sight of what must be the Morsum, a town with several medium fishing vessels beached upon it's shores,, and a peculiarly stationary iceberg, farther out in the sea itself. The emissary ship stops, almost as though anchor had been weighed; below deck, boards creak and groan slightly, no harm is done, however. Throughout the minds of all aboard, a curious and decidedly female voice chimes, "Why have you come to the waters of the Morsum?" A second voice, this one male, rings through immediately after, "Perhaps they are spies, Lyng..." And at this, a form at least as large as the ship itself surfaces, a great eye turned toward the boat, the kraken idly examining the ship.

The female voice rings again, not waiting for an answer, "Or perhaps they are cold, and hungry..." Both voices echo throughout crew-minds, now, "Which is it, then, men of the south?"

_______________________________________________

On the Southeastern Border of the Morsum.

This was the farthest south Aquila-Arcus had been seen in 100 years. A mere ten miles to the north of Fort Chimn, and below it, one of the largest gatherings of the Morsum's troops since the primitives were routed from their lands. Currently, three gigantic creatures were stationed around a boulder: Manevius who was dwarfed by both Helalsius and Korsius.

"The mountain first, THE MOUNTAIN." The troll cried fiercely, pounding his fist onton the stone with the roughly sketched map, cracking the very rock.

"FOOL. If we fail to establish outselves along the coast, we'll be routed by that nation to the southeast." The Ice Giant shouted, staring grudgingly at the troll.

"SILENCE, both of you." Helalsius roared draw herself to her full, height. The dire creature absolutely towered over the giant. "I have not traveled this far to...to...to argue with children.." Her feathery cape trembled and she looked over the gathered creatures, regaining a certain composure and dignity.

Korsius sopke first, "Between Hafuga, Lyngbakr, and the Helkemanus we can absolutely dominate the--" Crack. The tremendous paw of Helalsius streaks across Korsius' face, eliciting a surprised quiet from him.

"I did not request your silence, giant." The bear shook herself, returning to all fours to get a better look at the map. "Now...while I appreciate your input, and understand the strengths and weaknesses of our nation, that single mountain is of vast importance. It is ripe with resources, and far more habitable than the coastline--which we can establish control over later. Besides, nothing lives between us and it besides savages, beasts, and the beautiful undisturbed snow." Helalsius paused, looking off in the distance, to the direction that the mountain brooded, then across the armies of the Morsum, gathered here.

She walked, slowly and deliberately, with heavy and loud footfalls toward the frontmost of the soldiers. Standing again, the great bear turned to face her two partners. "This show of force, or whatever you want to call it, is futile. Unnecessary, you should be ashamed of yourselves. We're not going to war. We're simply stretching our legs." Helalsius shook her head. "Dismiss some of your men. I return to Gilidae immediately, unless something of actual urgency arises." Returning to all fours, Helalsius began trudging through the ranks of her beloved people toward Aquila-Arcus, Morkans, trolls, and giants a like parting for her path, and the bear never looking back a single time.

[Comrade Tortoise]

The amphibian grinned at Gregori

"It is always a pleasure to see you Gregori." The senior clergyman said before shrugging dispassionatly

"All things were created by Dahhok, therefore there is no heretical place. The only heresy lies in thoughts, actions, and creatures of evil"

The cleric smirked wryly

"Besides, I was in the area."

Gregori nodded slowly. "Once again I am shown why I am but a humble Councilor. But I can assure you Father, the place where we are now is filled with creatures of evil and with dark thoughts. You know where we are now, and you know what is nearby. As such I was charged by the Holy Father to investigate and assist you in the banishing of daemons."

Gregori held out a scroll marked with the seal of the Holy Church of Dahhok. "But I do not believe matters are so pressing that a hot meal and a lesson to the young cannot be arranged first." Gregori smiled as he hefted his travelling bag. "It has been a long time since my work has brought me to Hylidaeus and I'm certain we both have stories to tell."

The Inquisitor took the scroll and opened it, looking it over as he spoke

"This is certainly true old friend" he said, his voice was somber reading through the orders. He shook his head before offering his hand to the travel weary Gregori to take his bag

"I have some venison roasting in my camp. It isnt far away... and I do have so many stories"

[Cynical Cat]

The hammer rose and fell, driving the wooden post deep into the ground by the side of the path. A hundred gruesome faces leered from the post. The ranger nodded to the hammer man and moved forward to sprinkle water on the post. "It lives," he announced. The fetish would guard this stretch of road, well "path" was a much more accurate term, from attack by the forest's denizens.

"Good," grunted Thorkel. The thane wasn't a young man anymore. He had raised his axe against raiders, bandits, nightgaunts, and even a troll. His brawny arms were covered with scars, but his blonde-white beard hide the scars on his face. "We're damn close to the hill." Beside him the ranger woman Jennas said no word but watched the trail closely.

The burly man patted the leather wallet under his mail. It held the proclamation from the Witch-King naming him lord of this region. The population was rising and more folk on the same amount of land meant trouble. Some were heading west, were there was less forest and more open land to found farms and town steads. He and those with him were heading south, to establish a fortified trading post in the wilderness. Before only bold hunters and rangers had come this far south. Now civilization would take route, connecting by a road and protected by magic, walls, and steel. Both those who made their living from the land and those who made their living from the forest would benefit.

The column reached the base of the hill. Two of the rangers reached into a saddle bag and removed the last pole. The wooden fetishes had been carved at night, passed from witch to witch to witch, as they journeyed. The iron ones, marked with a hundred runic engravings, had been carried with them since the beginning. They trudged on.

At the base of the hill the rangers halted. Metal rang upon metal as the rune post was hammered into the earth, its great might augmenting the power of the other fetishes.

"Not much further," said Thorkel. "Just to the top of the hill."

"Then the real danger begins," said Jennas.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Auraine halted her horse as she entered the clearing. Nightguard, the seat of the Witch-King, was an intimidating sight. He had formed the castle from the bones of the earth, using the magic he had learned in these lands. To this he had added the sorceries that he had brought with him, fortifying this place against the powers of the night. In those days he contested with gods, fae queens, and dread wyrms. All those foes had been vanquished. The grimness of the keep was muted somewhat by the crystal torches that had hung from it since before she was born, but that sense of a fortress under siege never seemed to quite leave the place.

She rode up with her escort and the gate guards acknowledged her. There were wards that would fry a brain eater if tried to puppeteer a stolen body through the gates and would disrupt controlling charms, so they did not fear that. An officer of the Hallowed Ones greeted her. "My lady," he said with a bow. "Welcome back."

"Thank you Jestin. I need to see Malevan, as soon as possible."

"He's in the throne room. There's been a lot of petitions."

"I'm not surprised." Jestin fell into step with her as they walked down the corridor. The interior of Nightguard was much more comfortable than the exterior with rich tapestries and carpets on the walls and floors along with glittering crystal lamps providing light everywhere. In the fortresses depths a great sorcerous furnace provided heat and a network of witch worked pipes provided running water. She was almost beginning to acknowledge it as home.

The throne room was of modest size, allowing for advisers and guards, as well as a respectable number of petitioners and still having space to spare. Malevan sat on the Dragonbone Throne, which had been worked from the bones of the mightiest wyrm slain by Witch-King. The throne was shaped from the lower jaw and other bones, crafted into a throne and then comfortably upholstered. The upper jaw loomed above it, next to the skeleton of spread wings. Two draconic claws flanked the throne. The whole ensemble was placed on the third tier of a raised dais. His advisers stood or on the second tier.

Malevan stood. The Witch-King was wearing a tunic and pants of pure black mordant panther leather over shimmering black spider silk accented by silver talismans and buttons. He carried no weapon and wore no crown, but he needed no such accoutrement's to convey his authority. He was Malevan. He gestured for her to approach. "I shall hear no more petitions this day," he announced. Hallowed Ones began to clear the room.

Two mordant panthers were lounging in front of the lumen shrines that flanked the dais. The shrines were black iron stands that clutched a large shard of glowing crystal in tongs of silver and gold. The mordant panthers padded forward. Each was the size of lion, with eyes that were either utterly dark or that glowed with eldritch power. The ends of long, retractable claws peeked out from the midnight fur of their paws, blood red blades that could shred mail or flesh. These two were bound to him. They reached out to sniff and then lick her hands. They liked her, perhaps because their master did.

"What news do you bring?" Malevan asked.

The blonde woman shook her head. "None good. The Viconians deny everything, although they lie badly. They made a point of showing that part of their navy is always on guard at night and that they have ballistas with enchanted shafts that threaten even a flying dragon. They still fear us, but they believe that they can defeat us."

"Perhaps I should have encouraged ship building this past decade instead of gentle diplomacy. If they understand only the axe and the spear, then they shall have it. I have another task for you."

"I await your command, my king."

"There is a people to the north we have only had brief contact with. They are non humans, aquatic, and have only a small presence on the shore. I wish to send them an envoy to show our benign intentions and to learn about them."

"What if they are allied with the Viconians? They are both water peoples."

"I doubt it, but if such is the case I must know. In any case, I need you to meet with these Skarklagger and deal with the leaders of the Allied Water Walker Tribes."

"It will be done."

[Rogue 9]

The mage nodded respectfully, letting out a similar chirp, which the illusory guards also repeated.

"Thank you" he said, and followed the guards to the keep

The guards led Ambassador Lorak through the massive gatehouse and out through the first courtyard, on a flagstoned path leading around the inner curtain wall. The outer bailey was a bustling place, with knights and peasants alike going about their business, the blacksmith banging away at his forge, horses being shod, and all the other normal midmorning activities of a large castle. A few men gave the strange frog-person sidelong glances, but most just kept going like the party wasn't there.

A man in midnight blue robes walked past the group going in the opposite direction, muttering something as he did so. Suddenly his eyes flared a brilliant blue.

"Nice trick," he said to the amphibian while jerking his head towards the "guards," humor in his voice as he continued on his way.

[Comrade Tortoise]

The mage grinned

"Isnt it?" he said mirthfully. It wasnt as if he really needed guards. But diplomatic protocol required a ceremonial one. No use wasting real troops, or dealing with finding food and lodging for them on the road.

[Dark Silver]

Upon the southern border of Korlech, the Ilithian Heavy Air-warship "Fang of Lor'thok" arrived. It sat low upon the horizon, it's precious cargo, Grass'thek the Sunderer, Diplomat of the Lord of Demise, stood upon the forward deck.

Behind him, a full 200 of the Ilithian's finest pikemen and 100 of the best longbow-corpses waited for thier orders.

Slowly, the ship began to descend, the ladder folded down, and a messenger sent to a guardpost, "The Lord Grass'thek the Sunderer arrives, he brings with him the finest vessal in the Ilithian air-fleet. We seek passage to your capitol."

[Charon]

Near the Morkan Fishing Town 'Rimeline' (Eastern Northern Ocean) The ship sent to investigate the lands of the Morusm had a long, perilous trek ahead of it. Rounding the continent and continuing a journey through the cold waters, in the dreary and gray oceans of the north, where exhalations cloud the sight and water formed slick rime on the deck. The weather, however, is in the clear season, and the winds favorable. As the ship began it's westward trajectory, the Borealis played over the skies, a supernatural-seeming air of colors, lending a magical feel to the cold nights, and as the light plays through the sky, it almost seems to whisper in a foriegn tongue.

Catching sight of what must be the Morsum, a town with several medium fishing vessels beached upon it's shores,, and a peculiarly stationary iceberg, farther out in the sea itself. The emissary ship stops, almost as though anchor had been weighed; below deck, boards creak and groan slightly, no harm is done, however. Throughout the minds of all aboard, a curious and decidedly female voice chimes, "Why have you come to the waters of the Morsum?" A second voice, this one male, rings through immediately after, "Perhaps they are spies, Lyng..." And at this, a form at least as large as the ship itself surfaces, a great eye turned toward the boat, the kraken idly examining the ship.

The female voice rings again, not waiting for an answer, "Or perhaps they are cold, and hungry..." Both voices echo throughout crew-minds, now, "Which is it, then, men of the south?"

The dark-skinned crew had been in heavy furs, unused to the extreme cold that they now experienced, when they're ship stopped and they began to hear voices, many panicked, yelling in a strange language what sounded like they could be prayers. Another voice quickly yelled out after, a male voice. "Quiet down you rabble. These are no daemons."

As the kraken peeked above the waves they could see a group of men and women standing together, unlike their brethren though, they were not cloaked in heavy furs, they stood with naught but pants and shirts on, though deep scars in definate patterns could be seen on their dark skin. One of the men stepped forward and looked at the kraken, completely unafraid.

"You commit violence against a diplomatic vessel Kraken, nor do we appreciate your undue suggestion that we are spies. We come to barter a trade with the Morkan, and to make a protected sea route between the Kainan and the Morkan."

The Inquisitor took the scroll and opened it, looking it over as he spoke

"This is certainly true old friend" he said, his voice was somber reading through the orders. He shook his head before offering his hand to the travel weary Gregori to take his bag

"I have some venison roasting in my camp. It isnt far away... and I do have so many stories"

Gregori shook his head at the offer and kept his bag with him. "Ah, venison. And some dare to say that your people have no taste." Gregori grinned as he walked towards the camp beside the older Hylidaeian. "I hope my stay will not be as short as was my last. But you know, I go where Dahhok guides me."

[Comrade Tortoise]

"well, I would normally depredate a termite mound, or woodant colony for my supper, but I thought it wise to gather more conventional fare. Besides, I have taken a liking to Kainan food... As for the length of your stay, we can only hope Dahhok has purpose for an extended visit"

The elder cleric turned toward the firelight, and walked toward it with a spring in his step. Literally