The bastards! How did they move so quietly?

It was Atticus who demanded mercy from the greenskins. He disgusted Raelyn, a slimy little worm who did little more than whine and complain. It was almost a shame when the leader (Was it?) asked his troops to spare him - she would have been happy to see him go.

She didn't think the two dead men deserved their punishment. She didn't really know one of them, but the other had a wife and two kids. He had always been nice to have around, often bursting into song or telling jokes to lighten the mood. Now he was dead, and if the big creature (Was that an Orc? Or was it something different?) had its way, he would end up replacing the food they had stolen.

Thankfully, their leader was of a more mercantile mind, telling his troops to take them back to their leader rather than eat them. It at least gave her a chance to explain herself.

As they were forced to their feet, one of the orcs put his hand in a very, very taboo place - Raelyn's wing. It took every ounce of her not to knee him in the groin for his perversion, consoling herself with the fact that he just didn't know that was unacceptable. Still, she couldn't help but let out a curse in her home language "Get your filthy hands off me. I don't know where the hell they have been, but I can assure you, I don't want them on my wings"

Unfortunately, he didn't speak Orsini, or he didn't care enough to listen, and kept his hand on her wings, which got her thinking - what would the chieftain do when he saw them? Probably rape her and slaughter the rest, or spare them to get some amusement out of them later. She wouldn't put it past them. From what she had seen, that was probably how they spent their Saturday nights, just raping, pillaging and eating. Probably at the same time.

"You there, big one" she called to the Ogre "Tell this degenerate to let my wing go."

There was no further resistance. Even the proudest of Seraphim knows when a situation is hopeless, and they all just shut up and went through the motions. They had training for what to doing captured, probably even more training than Praetorians on this matter, as that was the risk they all had to take. This what they were meant to do. Betray nothing, endure everything. Surely it was better for one man to die than for the entire city to suffer for his loud mouth?

---

When Girus first walked into the Belladonna, Arabella thought he might just break down on the spot.
She could power every light in the place with the heat his cheeks were giving off alone, and he was shaking like a kicked dog in an earthquake. She knew he was shy, but she didn't know it was this bad. She started to doubt her choice, which was very, very rare.

A few days down the line, and he had almost completely changed. He was chatting happily to customers about pleasantries such as the weather and the embargo, which had hardly scathed Orsini at all, and the deep Vermillion colour of his face was had died down to a dull Persian pink - still miles away from its typical alabaster pallor, but enough to stop people from trying to make toast with him. Even his trembling had almost stopped, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the occasional twitch.

But he didn't move from behind the desk, and he had taken to binding his wings to stop them stiffening up in front of anyone, courtesan or customer alike. It was embarrassing enough to be seen in such a place - the last thing he wanted was for his wings to stand up straight behind him like a couple of custard-yellow, feathery soldiers.

In the midst of his colour maelstrom, he had a relatively simple job. Every time a courtesan was "hired", he had to take a note of who it was, the customer's name, how long they'd be occupied, what room they were in, and most importantly, how much money was being made. If anyone tried to skimp, or the Courtesan was hurt, it was up to him to catch it out and decide a punishment.

Not that there ever where such problems, of course. The threat of public mutilation and execution was enough to stop customers from doing anything untoward, and the Courtesans were happy enough to pay their dues. Occasionally, someone would try and skimp, but he always saw through and pulled the "I'm just doing what I'm told" card whenever someone complained. It worked surprisingly well.

Hunter and Aggrippa came to visit him. Agrippa was there solely to talk to him, often about his latest experiment or upgrade. He never looked twice at the multiple available women and the two available men, claiming "There are more important things in the world than pleasure."
Hunter, on the other hand, put her name down in the book several times in the week, often with a variety of Courtesans. The first time she came in, she booked five of them at the same time, and only smiled at Girus's stunned stare "What? Did you want to join in too?"

But all-in-all, things were going well. Every day Arabella went out to market, leaving the younger Seraph in charge whilst she was out. People would come in, come out, they'd make a shocking amount of Vehrin ("It's the tourists" Arabella told him once "People come from around the world to visit the Markets and Brothels of Orsini") and Arabella would come back, often with ten times the amount they had made. Girus would go to bed inside the Belladonna in a private room - although Arabella told him that the normal beds were perfectly clean, which was mostly true - and he'd get up the next day, wash himself sand say goodbye to his friend before setting up. But it couldn't last, and Girus found himself longing for Raelyn's return so he could go home. He started to miss the Pariahs, the Bastion, the groves. He'd had enough adventure for one year.

Knights Cliff

It had been a long week, he had inspected the many upcoming projects most of them were military in nature. If a war was to break out, they would be ready.

6 days till the ball
Charles had been taken secretly to a large building outside of town, there were hundreds of armed guards protecting the compound. It looked as if it were to house a single very massive air ship. And he became slightly excited at the fact. Because this projected had cost quite a bit but was relatively cheap to the average airship. As he entered the large hanger the only thing he could see was a small mechanical device it was on three wheels and covered by a blanket.

A man in a sharp uniform gripped the edge of the sheet and whisked it off.
There sat a vehicle, canoe in shape with two very large wings coming out its sides, and a small tail with triangles sticking out from each direction giving it three in total. It had a glass screen where two men could sit. The man in the back apparently flew using two levers, and the man in the front operated what seemed to be a large caliber gun. It had two barrels that fed into a cylinder. It was quite an odd gun.

The man explained that this device was an "Ornthropter" it had a large hydrogen powered engine that moved the wings much like a ducks. Giving them forward and back wards flight. The weapon on the front was what he called "A rapid fire rifle" The recoil of the rifle pulled the slide back and pushed in another shell. It was very basic making it very reliable. Under the gun it had a single ammo can that fed into it. The final weapon was a 50 lb bomb that could be fitted to the under side

He cocked an eyebrow and looked to the man "How many can we make in the next year? It took you seven years to just give me this." His question was very blunt but honest. "The uniformed man simply smiled " Sir the aircoprs currently has 1,000 read for action." With that an unseen person flipped on the rest of the lights. And there in the hanger were the rest of the aircrafts. Lord Charles smiled and looked to him "pilots trained?" The man nodded once "I guess you'll be needing a raise then." After that they enjoyed a nice brunch and a very active airshow the aircraft were extremely quick and nimble they had hydrogen pumped into their extra spaces. They had a reserve oxygen tank for pilots and the engine for extrememlyt high altitude climbs.

5 days until the ball

He was being drug out on a picnic with the family, which he actually enjoyed very much. He played for a long while with his boy, chase, catch, and many other games. He told stories and listens to stories. He loved nothing more than to spend time with his family

4 days until the ball.

He was brought to a military fort several leagues from the hanger, it would seem his special decision loved working out in the middle of no where. Here they were producing top notch walkers, but the oddest contraption was the warship they had built in the water. It was of impressive size boasting 9, 16in guns, and 18 5 in guns. And a single massive 32in gun. Her armory was well stocked. Though he saw not a single sailor on bored and soon it was obvious that it was actually a massive land walker. It slowly rose form the waters draining its self and began its climb towards them. He spent the rest of the day insoecting such a magnificent creation it had state of the art weapons, and aiming ability. It even had flak guns mounted on it. They called it a "Land Ship" and it was built to suit the name. It was just shy of 1000 ft long. He was invtied to attend dinner but had to decline.

3 Days until the ball.

He got word on his new special operations unit and their training. It was all going very well. He spent the day administrating and working on paper work.

2 Days until the ball

He put in two requests for water and land onthropter carriers. He then attend to the balls arrangement.

It would be held outside of his home in a large dome structure. The floor had been modified to a lovely red wood, and finished with a dark stain giving it a maroon color. The flags of every nation hung in above a large stage where, the collations orchestra would play. They were beyond excellent and could play any piece of music from first read to perfection. He had a copy of each nations anthem if they had one on hand and ready for then to play. There were expensive seats being situated on the sides for the ladies and gentlemen to be seated during breaks. Chefs and cooks prepared their working areas ready to begin the cooking. His chefs could cook anything and with that in mind made a twenty page menu, where the finer folk could order their traditional foods of the home land. He expected spouses and friends to be accompanied by each of their guest. He knew at least 100 of his closest friends and their families would be in attendance.

1 day before the ball.

He relaxed and was getting his shit ready for the next day. Lounging around his home not really caring to do much. His guests would be staying in a large five story building five minutes from the concert hall where the ball was. Each one would have their own suite and cook to cater to their needs.

The ball

Charles and his beautiful wife waited patiently for the guests to arrive. They idley chit chatted, and soon the first guests arrived they created the local nobles with handshakes and affectionate greetings. But still he waited for the other nations to arrive....

Azera waters, off of the Grey Isles – 4 days before the ball.

The Stellata convoy had been allowed to progress far enough. There was no question in the minds of both the political and military wings of the Azera, the convoy could not complete its journey. To allow the Stellata out would be a sign of weakness and inability. So, they had been allowed far enough into Azera waters to make it near impossible to get out again. Kept under aerial observation from a distance, and stalked by warships behind the horizon it had been decided that now was the time to act. Confirmation had been received that the Irodien Empire were a supporter of the Azera’s position and with that diplomatic assurance the Azera were now far bolder.

Therefore, the first Lord, under advise from the Lord Marshal, had authorised the stopping and capture, or the stopping and destruction, of the enemy ships. When he had rung the admiralty his tone had been sombre and serious. He knew exactly how most people would view this, as the opening battle in a war. His own diplomats and PR machine would try to downplay this act, pitching it as more of a police action than anything else. But something inside him told him the rest of the world would not exactly buy that. Still this had to be done. When the brief conversation had finished he leant back in his chair and sighed.
“So it begins.” He thought quietly to himself.

The order moved along the chain, down to admiralty and out to the ships and aircraft involved. The warships were to close to maximum firing range, moving into position in the dead of night. Shortly thereafter multi role craft and strike planes were put into the sky, again to close on the foe in the dead of night. Finally, the reconnaissance plane that had been recording the Stellata transgressions from a distance was ordered to move in slightly closer, and take a few better photographs of their military vessels. It was still a small black dot on the black night sky but after a few pictures had been taken it would reveal its own position. Using a signal light that had been affixed to it the plane broadcast a message in an international code used by ships at sea, sailors of all nationalities should have been able to understand the message. The message read thusly.
“Stellata vessels. Come to a full stop at once. Run in your guns or point your guns down and forward. Prepare to receive boarders.” This was a warning that would be delivered only once. Should the Stellata fail to comply armed forced would be used to force compliance. Even now the approaching aircraft were confirming their targets and getting into their attack lanes whilst also relaying the precise position of the enemy warships, to aid the accuracy of the warships which were now shadowing the convoy at maximum weapons range. The atmosphere was tense, what would the dragon kin do?

The Ball

With Raelyn gone, it fell to Aggrippa to go the all-important ball at Knightcliff. Being the only one who could actually attend, it fell to him to represent the city of Orsini, and to persuade his foes not to attack - a list that now included the fabled Greenskins, since Raelyn's mission had clearly failed.

He was not alone, however, although whether his ally would help him or hinder him was yet to be seen. Occasions like this where the perfect time to meet nobles and monarchs, and to establish healthy, cordial relations - or slip some cantarella into a rival's drink, or a stiletto in an enemy's back. His race had been referred to by many odd titles, such as "those winged bastards" and "chicken-people". It seemed racism was alive and well, and his presence was bound to cause a stir. As of such, precautions had been taken - a small vial of Gunus Depoisoner, a powerful anti-venom, was in his pocket, he had taken to wearing ceremonial, yet stab-proof armour, he had brought along his sword. But ultimately, his best protection was sitting opposite him in his carriage - Lyra.

Lyra was a true rarity. Uniquely amongst her own people, Lyra suffered from heterochromia iridium - at least, that's what Aggrippa called it. What it meant was that her eyes were two different colours. One was a bright teal colour, the other a dull golden tone. As if this didn't make her stand out enough, the golden-coloured eye never seemed to point straight, instead pointing in a variety of directions whilst her teal one looked wherever she wanted it to look. If she focused, she could straighten the golden eye, but it invariably started wandering the second she thought of something else.

She wasn't necessarily big, nor was she strong, but Aggrippa felt far safer in her company than he did anyone else's. They had been friends for as long as he could remember, despite the fact he was twenty years older than her. And whilst she was being ostracised for her unusual eye conditions and less-than-attentive nature, Aggrippa had always treated her as an equal. It seemed fitting that she should come with him. He wouldn't feel right leaving her behind.

As the carriage pulled up to the venue, neither Lyra or Aggrippa could hold back gasps of wonder. It was stunning. They had seen some very nice architecture on the way here, but this topped the lot. The craftsmanship was exquisite, far greater than that of Orsini. Mind you, the buildings of Orsini are built with practicality rather than aesthetics in mind. Not to say they are all ugly, but the end up looking rather... plain. It was nice to see something a little grander than usual.

The carriage stopped just outside the entrance to the ball, and there were suddenly butterflies in Aggrippa's stomach. Would someone really try to kill him in front of all these others? If so, would his precautions be enough?

"Are you sure you want to do this? It could be scary." He warned, his eyes flicking over to his blonde bodyguard. She countered his glance with a stare of her own.

"And watch you have all the fun? Yeah, right." Lyra giggled. "Let's do this"

As the two entered, side by side, the first thing they noticed was how few people were there. They must have been early. Yet even in these early stages, they couldn't avoid the stares of some of the others already there.

"Remember, they'll be looking at your wings, not your eyes" Aggrippa whispered

"Thanks. That makes me feel much better" Lyra's voiced dripped sarcasm.

"Don't worry. A bunch of weird creatures will show up. We'll soon be forgotten"

"Weirder than us? I doubt it"

The scientist could only grin in response. It was true.

"Well, shall we find our host? I bet he'll be glad to finally meet a real Seraph..."

The Ball

Indeed he was quite excited to finally meet the winged creatures. He didn't think the message would have reached them but it seems it has finally made it. After years of trying and several messengers being devoured they had finally showed.

He hurriedly finished the conversation he was having with captain featherburrow and moved on. He approached at a brisk pace almost unable to contain his enthusiasm. He wore a stunning dark blue suit, it was three piece, the vest underneath had tiny tiny cogs sewn into it, his neck tie had a small clock work time piece sewn into it, the numbers replaced with nation names and it slowly whirred around. "Hello! Hello!" He spoke fluent common, his hand out stretched as he approached. " I'm so glad you could make it." Soon his lovely wife joined him, taking her position at his side. The rest of the guests knowing social etiquette continued about their mingling. The orchestra sat by waiting for the signal to start.

"May we interest you in some food? Maybe a beverage?" He asked with genuine concern. "Must have been horrible getting around those damned beasts."

[Irodon 6 days ago]
Govenor Militant Tybal lean back thinking about what Lady Visar said about Production license from Valkorda Arms. Getting the licence for the LMG would be easy Valkorda has wanted to expand the production of weapon. The other two licences would be an issue as Valkorda is stingy about giving production licence for there newer weapons and equipment. "We will have to talk to the Valkorda about it, We'll give you answer in 8 days. But while we are still hear is there anything else you want to talk about.

[Irodien forward observation post UC territory, 12th Caldar legion, 5th regiment; 6 days ago]
"Hey sarge look at this," the private said shaking his sleeping NCO who was in the dug out with him. "What the hell do you want Hexen?" the Sargent asked.
"I see some movement out there,"
"Give me those binoculars," the Sargent said getting up. He looked through the binoculars he saw glimpse orc and Seraphim, "there s movement out there and it's orcs. Contact the mortar section tell them to barrage the area," he order Hexen nodded and ran off to carry out his NCO's orders. The group of Orc and Seraphim walked they heard a low whistling sound, the ground exploded into as a mortar shell impacted the ground in front of them. More mortars soon rained down upon them.

[The Ball, KnightCliff: present ]
Emperor Axaium, His son Theadrean, Governor- Militant Tybal, and several other imperial officers arrived by carriage in-front of the place all of them dressed in dress uniform with varying degree's of awards and decorations. As they enter "we must be here early good," Tybal said causing Theadrean to raised an eyebrow.
"Why is it good that we are here early?" the young prince asked.
"Simple the food on the buffet is still warm," Tybal responded earning a chuckled from every one else "speaking of which I must go," the old marine said making for the buffet table.
"I should go mingle also then," Theadrean said walking off into the crowd of patrons to the ball. "Don't get your self in trouble," Axaium called to him Theadrean just wave back before disappearing into the crowd. Axaium decide to go find Charles and thank him for inviting him to the ball.

Normally weapon technology in the empire had been one of stagnation. Most advance weaponry was outlawed. That was of course...unless it had flame attached to it. Fire was a element of pure creation, life and the eternal empress. She herself it is told taught the world how to use fire to cook its meals. So it was naturally the place where all the invention was pooled. And Blackeye himself was at the forefront of that research, supplying and paying for it out of his own pocket. This had lead to the creation of the black power musket, witch while inaccurate did back the punch needed to kill armoured battle formations. And of course that was just the beginning.

Deep below the decks the musketeers where getting themselves ready guns loaded and cannons just hidden from view with the board sides closed. Blackeye himself was standing on Brilliant dawn with his pride shining like a beacon for the rest of the officers to follow. As he passed through these dangrous tides he expected the ''Azerans'' to launch a cowardly attack. That didn't happen. Instead they asked to inspect his ships, ships loaded with trade goods.

''Lord?'' Blackeye thought for a moment....
''Kill the engines...let them on board....''
''What?''
''What do we have to hide? Its trade goods fair and simple....get me the quartermaster of this ship''

A short moment later the fleet stopped. Brilliant dawn stood in the front with Blackeye waiting patiently for the inspection.

"This must be our man" Aggrippa grinned, as a human in a stunning three-piece suit approached them, hand outstretched. It was an intricate piece of clothing, with cogs and clockwork all over the place. He felt more than a little underdressed, but he smiled and bowed anyway, before shaking the young man's hand vigorously.

"A pleasure to meet you, your Eminence. My name is Aggrippa Celeste." His own Common-Tongue was just as graceful, having studied it extensively "Me and my... Erm, co-worker? Ally?" He looked to Lyra for help.

"Ally, I guess. My name is Lyra, sir." Lyra's own dress was formal by Seraphim standards, but perhaps a little plain by Coalition reckoning. It was fairly short, stopping just above the knees, and was sleeveless, kind of like a summer dress. She had no jewellery or finery, and it was a dull grey colour. There was a reason for it, though - this was actually a modified Coat-of-Plates, made from the same hard threads that the Pariahs' used for extra reinforcement. It kept her light on her feet and gave her just as much protection as Aggrippa, if not more. She also had an Repeater by her hip, somewhat out-of-place on the otherwise harmless-looking dress.

"We are here to represent Orsini. I do hope we learn more about each other tonight - although, it must be said, I am very impressed with what I see so far."

The offer of food and drink had little attention heeded to it "A little glass of water, please" and then talk turned to a more serious subject - the green skinned neighbours of Orsini "Yes, there was some difficulty. I'm afraid a unit we sent to discuss peace has wound up missing. We don't know of their fate as of yet."

The Ball
"Ah yes water." His words were coated in a thick accent. Though his annunciation was impeccable. With a little wave a waiter who had been on stand by hurried over, to receive their order. "Just water for the pair please." The waiter nodded and disappeared. Charles smiled again "How rude of me! This is my lovely wife Alexandra Valdr, I am of course Charles Valdr. You both have my permission to call me by my first name." His wife smiled softly at being introduced, and gave a small curtsy. " I too hope we can learn a lot from each other. Tomorrow, if you are going to stay for it, I have a business deal for all of the other kingdoms which may help in these recent times." Soon he spotted Emperor Axaium, he quickly turned back to his guests. "One moment please it looks like another of my special guests has arrived I'd very much like to introduce you three." With that he walked off towards axaium.

"Emperor Axaium! How good it is too see you! I'm very glad to see you have arrived safely and soundly, also might I say in the most timely manor." He approached the man, and as he stopped he held his hand out in greeting. His wife didn't stray far from his side." I have some guests I'd like you to meet!"

“Hey Jack, you have any idea what these little birds are saying?’ “ asked one of the members in his group. They had been traveling along the western border for days, the chieftain had moved his camp to the northwestern corner.

“I don’t know what those chickens are saying and I don’t care. Tell them to shut up or they are going to end up like their last two party members, dead. Except that they are going to be resting in our stomachs not on the ground.” He grumbles to the one that asked. The orc grumbled something in the common language of the entire land to one of the birds, it was rough and thick with a orcish accent. But the bird seemed to understand.

“I still think, they food.” grumbles the Ogre who had been loyal to Jack ever since he saved his life as a baby. He sometimes wonders how it can still remember with such a small brain but didn’t complain the least.

“Don’t eat them. You can play with their wings again if you want, just don’t tear them.” He says to the Ogre. Clapping his massive hands, the ogre runs to one of the birds. He sees the ogre grab the bird by the waist and move her around like an airship toy, and occasionally making her wings flap. He still wasn’t sure why he was taking these birds to the chieftain, they were so weak that two of them had died when hit by his men in the forest.

BOOM! A roar and a scream pierced the air. Turning around, he saw that one of the orcs guarding a bird had been hit by something. it only took a second to realize it and mortar fire from a distance. The orc might have survived but the bird had been kill instantly, only having enough time to scream.

“RUN!” yells Jack. They had almost reached the chieftain camp and now this. A number of mortar shells fell again but none hit the remaining members of his party. As he looked back, the orc that had been hit got up but only got hit by another mortar. He couldn’t have survived that one, but his family would be honored in their village soon enough. That orc had saved the lives of many.

As they ran, the mortar fire lessened and soon disappeared. But the mortar fire had quickened their pace and now the chieftain camp came into view.

"Prendere che, maladrina!" Roared the Seraphim, laughing and whooping "Stronzo lo meritava!"
The green skins gave them funny looks, but they didn't care. One, they were still alive. Two, one of the Orks had been killed, blown apart by some sort of high-power explosive. And three, Attila had been killed, removing a persistent narcissistic drone from many an ear, Ork and Angel alike. Even if the beasts didn't't understand his whining, surely it got on their nerves? And the less annoyed they were, the less likely they were to do things that bode ill for the rest of the "chickens", like get a roasting spit ready.

But damn, if orcs and ogres made poor hosts! What part of "don't touch my wings" did they not get? They had said it often enough, even in the common-tongue, but yet they still poked and prodded and played with them. Every time one of the greenskins touched their wings, the poor creature winced and recoiled, sometimes flapping the wing to get them off. It wasn't necessarily painful, but it was ticklish and oddly stimulating. Often, when the beast was done, the Seraph in question would find an ally and look over it's wings with them, feeling violated and dirty.

Sometimes, if the ork had felt particularly cruel ( or playful ), he would lift a Seraph up and start playing with them, like a baby with a doll. The Ogre in particular was partial to this, flying them about like airships and rubbing his big, ugly, dirty hands all over the variety of wings. He must have been intrigued by the colours and shapes off them - there was black, white, mottled brown, turquoise, scarlet, even a yellow. The felt soft as well, more a downy feather than a proper bird feather. There must have been some feel-good factor involved with touching a Seraph's wings, whatever it was, because they did it so often, and with so much interest and cruel joy that they couldn't just be curiosity. Maybe they liked seeing smaller creatures recoiling from them. Yes, that suited the Ork personality very well.

After the mortars, and Attila's tragic(!) demise, a camp came into view. Some of the more eagle-eyed Seraphim could see other green skins already, greatly depressing them. How much longer would they have to put up with these beasts?

"Erm, excuse me?" One of Scions asked an Orc in the common-tongue. It was the only other female apart from Raelyn in the group, and she had bright red wings. She had probably one of her captors favourite playthings. "Is that the camp there? Because we could run on ahead, if it's not too much trouble..."