(Holden d’Alnharte (Main), In the Eastern Woods of Praelium, Nearing Paline)

Holden’s boots sank into the mud, making each step more difficult than the last. Rain seeped through his hood, introducing the frigid cold to his body. He looked about for some means of shelter. It was a miracle that he made it this far with the worsening conditions. The unkempt ground he walked upon was becoming a marsh, trying to suck him further into the earth.

The road drowned underneath the murky waters; leaving him with little more than his training and instincts for guidance. He used the lower branches of the trees to keep himself from sinking; a slow and agonizing death. If he had to decide, he would rather go quickly by the skilled practice of the predators that lurked in the woods.

He gripped Yusil’s hilt tightly as a dry screech resounded through the trees. Muttering a curse under his breath, he picked up his pace. It was still a day’s worth of travel before he would reach Paline, and even then his efforts could be in vain. He frowned. If things did not go the way he hoped, what would he do, then? Hijack a boat? Flee to Benaduza?

“Maybe it would be easier if I just become a hermit.” Shaking his head with a smirk, he pushed on. They would have to listen to him. To ignore his warning would be nothing less than nodding to the death in unfathomable quantities.

Suddenly, Holden dropped into the murky waters; pain flaring through his leg. It was nothing that alarmed him; the wound was a week old, already. He pulled himself up and leaned against the trunk of a tree to ease the weight on his knee. The bandage would have to be replaced, or he risked it growing infected. Drawing his knife, he carved off the dirty, blood-stained wrappings before he took the blade to his cloak. With a careful motion, he parted a long, thin strip free, and dressed the gash that ran through where his pants were torn open.

It was a reminder for him, that he was but a mortal man. His experience did little to dull the bite of a blade. Once the pain subsided, he continued through the woods. With the occasional screech – sometimes sounding closer, other time very distant – he felt naked without a bow in his hands.

(Holden d’Alnharte is alone, traveling through Praelian forests in a heavy storm to reach the capital Paline. He is about a day's distance away.)

(Carver Pentaghast (Main), Courtyard of the Castle of the Tyrannus)

With a mighty battle cry, Carver brought down his great sword upon his foe. A mighty clang rang throughout the courtyard as the sword sliced through the flesh of his victim and found it's way towards the floor. With ragged breaths, Carver slowly reclaimed his sword from the floor. This battle was hard fought from both parties, but Carver arose the victor from this one.

"Lord Tyrannus, did you really need to fight a bear? Was I beginning to bore you?"

Carver laughed as a servant ran up to him, handing him a rag to clean off his sword. "Come on now, Claudius. No need to be upset about it. A just needed a little mix up, that's all. He cleaned off the blood from his sword and smiled, remembering his days of glory fondly. "Besides, I wanted to break out my broadsword again. It's been so terribly long..."

The gruff voice revealed himself. It was a dragon born clad in high ranking Praelium armor. He was a bit annoyed with the Tyrannus. He considered actions like these childish. Carver's argument was that he could do these things in his free time, and that while Claudius would prefer Carver relaxed, relaxing was never Carver's thing. "I'll sleep when I'm dead!" was his favorite line.

"Well sir, if you're finshing enacting your revenge for the lumberjacks, the House of Decus requires you in two hours."

"Right then," Carver replied, sheathing his sword. "Ready the coach and I'll be unbloodied within the hour."

(The bear had killed several woodsman. Instead of merely hunting and killing it, Carver wanted to see if he still could hold his own in an actual battle and requested for it to be brought to him, so he could kill it himself. Were he to find any real trouble, Claudius was standing by to assist.)

(The General-Kings (SIDE), Okeluiso, the capital of On’hino)

“What reason do we have to pick apart rumors?” Thibault leaned back in his chair, rapping his fingers against the table’s surface. “Do we have anything to support these claims? For all we know, it’s the ravings of a madman.”

“Our spies have confirmed that one of the Praelian villages was destroyed,” Galedrith replied, “furthermore, it was indeed scorched to the ground.” He stood up, and walked behind Thibault’s seat; knowing full well that the Minister of Foreign campaigns despised it. “While I’m waiting for further information, think of what we could accomplish if we were to mount an assault from the Western front.”

“A big enough headache,” Thibault grumbled, “since you know full well that the Praelian forces are no pushovers.”

“Of course, of course.” Galedrith approached a window; overlooking the Shining City from the peak that their council room resided in. “But, they’re the weakest they could have been. Still war-torn; encroached upon by Benaduza from the south; and then the On’hinian Royal Army, charging in from the West.”

“A sound plan, but suppose we take Paelium by surprise.” Val slid a blue chip over the nation on the map spread on the table. “How long would we hold it? Would their people submit to our authority? And who is to say they would not retaliate?”

Thibault folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. “I’ve done countless campaigns. My grandfather purged this land of the elves, my father purged it of barbarians, and I’ve purged it of invaders.” Opening his eyes, he stared at the blue chip. He was all too familiar with it. “If we move forward with this, the rest of Erelith will see this as a true sign of aggression. Those who side against us will boycott our goods, if not use them against us.” He stood up, and looked to Galedrith. “What can we do with Carver?”

“The war hero.” Galedrith smirked. “A story we know all too well. I don’t suppose pinning a murder on him would be enough.” He approached Thibault, looking the General in the eyes. “If we find a way to break their leadership, what are they to do?”

“And how do you think we would get close to him?” Val asked.

“Either we side with Benaduza,” Thibault suggested, “and step on his windpipe together, or we offer to help secure their southern border; a ‘token of initiative in the dawn of a new alliance.’”

Galedrith raised a brow. “You almost sound like me, Thibault.” With a chuckle, he turned his gaze to Val. “Go to the Nobles. Have them send a diplomat to a ship. Thibault will have a small detatchment join for protection. Set sail for Benaduza.”

“A small detatchment?” Thibault echoed.

“Don’t worry,” Galedrith assured him. “I’ll make sure it’s all you need.”

“What of the Alnharte?” Val asked.

“When the spies find him, we’ll plan accordingly.” Galedrith moved towards the door. “Get to work.”

Thibault sighed, and lifted the blue chip off of the table; flipping it to reveal a metallic side. “Faith by cloth; Honor by steel.”

(In the capital of On’hino, the General-Kings react to the information passed to them by their spies, that Praelium was attacked by an unnamed source; possibly barbarians. Speculating that such a weak force had the strength to make a dent in the renowned military nation, they begin to execute a careful plan to subjugate Praelium.)

(Carver Pentaghast (Main), House of Decus in the capital of Great Praelium)

"This could mean war, Lord Tyrannus!" A Dec slammed his fist at his desk. "We've lost an entire village and we haven't got a clue from whom!"

Carver's brow furrowed, frustrated with the Dec's aggressive tone. It seemed that the man only wanted to talk about sending scouts to all over the continent, searching for a reason to go to war. The last thing Carver wanted was to mobilize his forces against any of the other countries. To attack one would mean to open up a weak side to another. The On'hinians were warmongers, and although Praelium had no provoked them, he wouldn't be surprised if they were to launch an attack whilst they were weak. Benaduza was one riot short from a shattered nation, and it wouldn't be long before someone would try to make Praelium their home if they were weak. And last but not least, the warring tribes to the north. Their defense against them was constant, and were the tribes given one tiny advantage, Praelium would surely lose too many good soldiers.

"We'll look into it, but there is no reason to snoop around other empires." Carver said with a stern look to the outspoken Dec. "To send scouts to other countries would only cause us to look worse in the eyes of other nations. And that's the last thing we need right now."

"We already look bad, Lord Tyrannus," The Dec said smugly. "Having our people burned to the ground by seemingly absolutely nothing? We look weak!"

"Then that's their mistake for thinking that!" Claudius almost seemed to roar at the Dec, causing the season veteran to flinch. "If they come to our land, that's their loss for fighting our people. They underestimate the power of Praelium if they set foot in our territory."

Carver nodded. "Claudius is correct. If they come here, we will end them. Until then, we play the defense. I want to at least have to sides of our country not under constant threat of attack before we leave ourselves defenseless."

"You doubt our might!"The outspoken Dec laughed. "We could easily win a war while maintaining a defense on our borders. Benaduza is only a potential threat! It isn't even real!"

"I value our people, Dec," Carver's fist clenched and teeth gritted. "We could win the war without a doubt, but at what cost? Half our army? For our nation to survive, our people need to survive. Do you care not for our people?"

The Dec's laughter stopped. "That is not what I meant sir," He looked towards the ground, sheepishly. "I was merely trying to-"

"Make us lose an entire generation of Praelium citizens." Carver waved his hand at the Dec, dismissing any further statements he had to make. "We keep our investigation local and tighten up forces around borders. Allow former citizens under the age of thirty to rejoin our forces to boost numbers. Opposed?"

The House of Decus responded with silence, and Carver nodded his head.

"Council dismissed. The forces that burned our village down will be stopped, but without enticing a war against all the other countries. We all know it would take a simple gust of wind to send them into chaos."

The House chuckled and all left for their separate ways. Carver sat down in his chair at the head of the House, rubbing his temples. Claudius made his way to the troubled Tyrannus.

"Excellent decision, sir." Claudius patted Carver on the back. "It would look bad if we sent scouts out to countries we are trying to make alliances with."

Carver looked up to his right hand man and cracked a weak smile.

"Ah, if only politics was as easy as slaying a bear right?" Carver chuckled, but he turned his head and began to stare out into nothing. "Dominus wanted to talk to me..."

Claudius a little, surprised at what Carver had just said. The House of Dominus had never spoken to the Tyrannus before, except to usurp them. But that was usually right before their body was burned with a spell of fire.

"Dominus? What do they want?"

"Private Tryannus buisness!" Carver voice tried to be light and his faint grin returned for a moment. However, it ultimately failed and he could not hide the weariness in this voice. His eyes were still locked into nothingness.
"All they told me was that it was urgent and it involved business from the past."

"I'm sure it will all be fine, Carver." The dragonborn tried to reassure him, but even he knew that it was bad news when Dominus was intervened for anything.

"I'll drop you off at the palace, and then I'm off to Dominus," Carver said, slowly standing up and making his way towards his coach. He stopped in the archway and turned around to Claudius. He cracked a smile. "And you're right. It will be fine. What's the worse that could happen? They tell use a giant, flaming rock will fall from the sky, crushing all of Praelium?"

(Holden d’Alnharte (MAIN), Outside of Paline, Praelium)

“Finally.” Holden stood at the edge of the treeline, observing the standing fortress in the distance. His clothes were dried off, and just in time. In the wake of the cold rain, the strong winds of the open waters lashed at his form without pause. It pulled at his cloak; leaving his sword and dagger exposed. To his benefit or misfortune, he had yet to see.

There were a few different patrols that moved along the outskirts of the naval fortress. Part of him wondered if this was possibly the wrong destination. But, he did not want to risk running into a spy from his homeland; most of which certainly lingered in the civilian populace. He unclipped the sheath for his dagger, and slid it in his boot. They would likely see him disarmed, but he was not going to be defenseless.

Would his name hold any weight, out here? The war hero, Holden d’Alnharte? The sharpshooter, the traitor, the Exile?

“Maybe they’ll try and recruit me.” He cracked a grin. His own humor never failed to amuse him. With a deep breath, he emerged from cover and approached the nearest patrol; hands raised. “I need to speak with your commanding officer at once,” he demanded, “for Praelium’s sake.”

(Holden has arrived near the naval fortress, and turned himself in to the nearest patrol in the hopes of seeking audience with an officer.)

(Jameson Telluth(Insignificant), Sergeant Officer of Praelium, Outside of Paline)

The patrol was uneventful, as per usual. Jameson was one of the many soldiers who thought their "defense" against Benaduza was simple paranoia from the Tyrannus. Benaduzians would fix their own problems soon enough, and there would be nothing for the citizens of Praelium to worry about. They could finally mount an assault on the desert tribes once Benaduza had their shit figured out.

"Alright boys, let's say this is our last round for today, alright?" The rest of the patrol whooped in agreement. "I think we know these marshes like the-"

“I need to speak with your commanding officer at once, for Praelium’s sake.” A man appeared from the woods, hands up, causing Jameson to jump. The patrol immediately drew their weapons. Jameson whistled and the two men at his side swiftly surrounded the man, blade at his neck. It was bold of him to expose himself to a patrol, nonetheless a Praelian patrol, who would have easily stabbed the man's throat were they under rule of any other previous Tyrannus.

Luckily for Holden, Carver's orders for any outsiders within Praelium's borders was far different than any other Tyrannus before him.

"Where do you hail from?" Jameson barked, ignoring Holden's demand. "And to grant an audience with the Tyrannus is a bit more complicated than just asking nicely."

The other patrol guards were ready to kill Holden at any hostile movement he would make, which they sorta hoped he did. Not much happened in these marshes, so a little action would be fun.

(Holden d'Alnharte (MAIN), Outside of Paline, Praelium)

"Where do you hail from? And to grant an audience with the Tyrannus is a bit more complicated than just asking nicely."

The Exile was not surprised by the patrol's reaction. He was all too familiar with the tactic, but this time he was not in a foreign land to shed blood. He remained still, allowing them to feel less threatened by his presence.

Holden was unappreciative of the blade at his throat, but remained compliant for the time being. He was outnumbered and surrounded; a fool would think they had a chance of fighting their way out. "I'm a former marine, from the Royal Navy of On'hino. I came here to seek refuge, and warn your leader of the impending danger to Praelium." Moving one of his hands slowly, he reached to his belt, and slipped a roll of paper free. "This is a report I took off a spy a week ago. He took the liberty of listing out patrol density, when the guards change shifts, and the optimal approaches to assault your naval hub. That's how I knew to come here. While I've done you the courtesy of killing the spy, I doubt little that he was alone."

He looked to the soldier with a blade at his throat, and offered the paper. The steel fang against his flesh was a feeling he knew all too well. "If you'd like to examine the papers, yourself, you're more than welcome to," Holden said, "but do so while we move." He glanced to either side of him, calculating the risk of dispatching the patrol should they choose to ignore his warnings.

"Or, if you'd rather ignore my warning," he said, "I'll be on my way." His body tensed; it reacted to the tension in the air.

(Jameson Telluth(Insignificant), Sergeant Officer of Praelium, Outside of Paline)

Jameson was shocked that the man still spoke with confidence. It shocked him further the details in which he went into with his story. The man seemed to tell the truth, but seeming to tell the truth wasn't simply enough. Perhaps the man could talk to Claudius, but there was still no way an outsider would be granted an audience with the Tyrannus that easily.

"Remove any weapons you have and hand me those papers" Jameson said, lowering his sword. The other two patrol officers simply backed up a little bit, allowing Holden to move. "If your story is true, then we will make haste and you will be granted an audience with a high ranking official. But I can assure you will not be seeing the Tyrannus first thing."

"Sergeant, the man looks hungry." A smaller, wiry soldier who looked relatively young called from behind him.

Jameson whipped around towards the young soldier. "And? Do you want me to give him a steak dinner?"

"The new policy, sir. Towards potential friendlies?" The voice was meek, clearly intimidated by the older and gruff sergeant.

"Oh. Right." Jameson sheathed his sword and rummaged through his backpack, grumbling as he did. From his pack he pulled out something wrapped in cloth, and tossed it at Holden's feet.

"Welcome to Praelium." Jameson huffed. "Something to hold you over, until we get you to Paline."

(Holden d’Alnharte (MAIN), Outside of Paline, Praelium)

“Remove any weapons you have and hand me those papers.”

Holden offered the papers to the Sergeant, then stepped back. Detailed indeed in the rolled papers were the rough times of patrols, marked by 'soon before sun up', or 'long after sundown'. Attatched was a crude map, with arrows pointing to entry or siege points for an army to make use of.

“I’d give you my weapon, but it’s more of a family heirloom,” he explained, “it’s seen me through more fights than I could count. Orcs, elves, izekash…” Clearing his throat, he knelt down and picked up the cloth-wrapped object. He kept it, but did not open it. Trust had to work both ways, after all. “If you think I still present a danger, then I invite you to bring more men with you. Had I any desire to do damage, I wouldn’t have approached you openly.”

Yusil was more than a weapon, or a tool to him; it was the only thing he could rely on through many campaigns. It was this blade that he saved his own life by damning countless others. Its edge remained perfect throughout his service, and he was not going to trust them to return it. “It’s nothing personal. This, however…” He knelt down, and pulled the knife free from his boot, before offering the handle to the Sergeant. “This was given to me by an old friend. See it as a sign that my word is as strong as the steel it’s forged from.” Clearing his throat, he gestured to the fortress. “Shall we?”

(Jameson Telluth(Insignificant), Sergeant Officer of Praelium, Outside of Paline)

"She will come under no harm." Jameson said, taking the weapon from Holden. "And these papers do indeed have you mentioned. I will bring you to Paline. We'll call an audience with Claudius."

The men put their weapons away and motioned Holden forward.

"Shouldn't be too far now." Jameson said. "You'll be given lodging and food until Claudius arrives. But don't make yourself too comfy. He will probably arrive within the hour."

(Carver Pentaghast (Main), House of Decus in the capital of Great Praelium)

Oh god, why couldn't it have been a giant flaming sky rock?

Carver was once again rubbing his temples in the dark, plain room. There was a hooded figure across from him whose face was obscured by the shadows. The figure sat hands clasped together and across the table, motionless and without reacting to the Tyrannus' distress state.

"A powerful mage has been out their for at least 7 years and you tell me this now?" Carver said, more exasperated than angry. "Not to mentioned you killed a Dec, too. We thought it was an assassination that killed Dec Garandinar..."

"The past cannot be changed." A female voice replied from the seemingly lifeless robe. "We focus on the now. Intel tells us he is plotting to destroy the entire nation of Praelium. And he is quite capable of doing it."

"Right, right, a human with possible the highest magical potential in years, and that was at age thirteen." Carver replied sarcastically. "Gods know how powerful he is now."

"We will send out someone of our own." The voice responded. "They also have high potential. Not nearly as great as his, however."

"Yes, I'm sure that will go over well." Carver said, sitting up from his chair. "Now are you done telling me that doomsday is nigh for Praelium, or can I leave?"

The figure responded with silence. Carver took that as a cue to leave, but as he turned his back the figure said something else.

"Two things. Your High Dec will talk to an outsider soon. He is vital to Praelium's survival." The figure paused again. It seemed to be contemplating something. Finally, the figure spoke, but their voice was softer than before. "Your reign of Tyrannus will almost certainly be short. Prepare for death."

Carver's posture immediately stiffened, as if he had just been struck by lightning. To have his reign be cut short by one man? To have the entire country be ended by a single soul?

No... I will not allow it. No matter his magical talent, he will not get the best of me..

Carver's previously frightened demeanor shifted towards and aggressive stance. He beat his royal chest plate with his fist and room resounded with a spectacular metal sound.

"The bastard may end me, but he will not end Praelium." He snarled and turned around. He stopped in the doorway. "And I'll be sure to take him to hell with me."

The figure remained motionless, but cracked a smile under their robe.

"See to it, Lord Tyrannus. May Erelith's power guide you."

(Holden d’Alnharte (MAIN), Outside of Paline, Praelium)

“Claudius?” Holden raised a brow. He had heard a few names popular around Praelium, before. After all, it was his duty as an officer to understand the nations neighboring his own. However, Claudius was not one of the names he knew. “Food and lodging are appreciated, but they are second to not having another sword at my neck. Have you a spare bow in Paline’s armory?”

He wanted to make some sort of small talk. Having spent a long time alone – with nobody but himself for company – he welcomed a conversation that was not revolved around threatening his life, or the fate of nations.

“I’ve heard stories about turmoil within Benaduza,” Holden said. “I doubt little that you haven’t raised your guard of the coastline, but do you think they would mount an attack should the government be turned on its head?”

(I don’t care too much if you ignore the conversation topic, if you want to skip straight to them waiting for Claudius.)

(Jameson Telluth(Insignificant), Sergeant Officer of Praelium, Outside of Paline)

"He's High Dec," Jameson replied, continuing to stride forward. "Right hand man to the Tyrannus. It's an honor for a non-citizen to speak to a Dec, let alone the High Dec. As for a bow, Claudius we determine if your story is legitimate. If he does, we will surely arm you. It's not within my power to arm an outsider."

It was silent for a moment as they marched through the marshes. After a few minutes, Holden pipped up again.

“I’ve heard stories about turmoil within Benaduza. I doubt little that you haven’t raised your guard of the coastline, but do you think they would mount an attack should the government be turned on its head?”

Jameson laughed, turning his head around towards the man.

"That's exactly what we're doing right now. The Benaduzians might fall into chaos, and attack our land, perhaps some halfling want to make a new country, separate from humans." Jameson followed his sentence with a snort. "Currently, we're under threat on three fronts according to the Tyrannus, but if you ask me it's all paranoia. There's no need to fear them. Perhaps the On'hinians present a threat, but Benaduza? No, they'll sort something out. The won't let their legacy of a great empire crumble over race relations."

(I'm good with you skipping to a meeting room. I'll lay the scene.)

Holden found himself sitting in a chair at a circular table. There were several chairs surrounding the table, and in the middle was a map of Praelium's border to the sea beneath them, with various little colored flags all around it. He could easily tell this was a war room designed to discuss something about Praelium defenses towards Benaduza.

The wiry soldier from earlier stood guard at the door and kept his eyes on Holden. His gaze held no aggression, but was simply a blank stare. The soldier figured Holden wasn't going to cause any violence, as he hadn't started anything yet within the past couple hours. But just to be safe, Paline assigned the small soldier to watch over him, just in case he acted out.

(Holden d'Alnharte (MAIN), War Room, Paline, Praelium)

Holden turned his attention to the soldier. Where his actions lacked aggression, his eyes compensated two fold. It was not a look of violence, but of cold calculation. Sizing up the possible threat. Determining how fast said thread could be dispatched. It was nothing entirely intentional, but rather something that happened out of instinct. Such tactical analysis got him this far. To abandon it now would have been foolish.

"How long have you been a soldier?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't say you're green. But, you don't look like you've seen a lick of combat outside of drills." With a sigh, he stood up, and gestured to the soldier's legs. "Bend your knees. You keep them completely straight like that, and you'll pass out."

As the door opened, Holden folded his arms over his chest, and turned his attention to the dragon born as he entered the room. "I... presume you're Claudius, then." The Exile tried his best to keep from staring, but through his entire career he had never seen such a race before. And the high Dec's stature did not help to ease the thoughts racing through his mind. "That, or they sent an executioner to make a mess in the war room." With a smirk, he offered his hand. "Former Major Holden d'Alnharte."

(Claudius Ker'Tak, War Room, Paline, Praelium)

"Ah, former? What for?" Claudius said, gesturing towards an empty chair. "Guards tell me you're from On'Hino. Why did they discharge you?"

Claudius shook his head, dismissing the question.

"Actually, never mind. We have more important matters to attend to." Claudius sat down in a chair himself. "Specifically, the paper you just brought me. You say you killed a spy for it? Have any proof?"

Claudius was obviously approaching this man with caution. The papers were indeed damning, but this man could have stolen them himself. He seemed plenty capable to do so, but Claudius wanted to make sure. Even though he hated interrogation, he felt it was quite necessary for a situation like this. He was only one person away from speaking to the Tyrannus himself. Claudius had to make sure this man was sincere.

(Holden d'Alnharte, War Room, Paline, Praelium)

"It's a long story," Holden explained, "and not exactly a pleasant one." He sat down, and leaned back. "Charges were drummed up against me, and it's part of why I've come here."

"Actually, never mind. We have more important matters to attend to. Specifically, the paper you just brought me. You say you killed a spy for it? Have any proof?"

"If you travel to the Artis Port and search along the outskirts, you'll find your 'proof' in a ditch with two halves of a bow through his throat." Holden smirked, and reached into his pockets, before setting a blood-stained pendant on the table. It was a blue chip; one side metallic. "Common military pendant for officers in the Royal Army. I caught him before he could make the drop. Unfortunately, I don't know where he was going to drop it off, so his contacts remain anon."

Sliding the pendant to Claudius, Holden cleared his throat. "To make this plain and clear, On'hino is sizing up Praelium. They have the size of your armies, and where they're concentrated. If they're not on the move already, it's only a matter of time. What do you intend to do?"

(Darlien Garandinar(MAIN), seas near Ascencion.)

The boat rocked heartily as the waves of the eastern sea crashed against it, nearly sending Darlien off the edge, to which a halfling laughed at length. The seas were rough today, but nowhere near rough enough to cause Darlien any undue discomfort, he was too pleased with the news. On'hino had done all but send a formal declaration of war, their army had assembled and was ready to climb onto the fleet. Darlien could have only dreamed of this moment prior to it. He smiled and sat on the wood deck, turning his chin up towards the grey skies as the wind picked up. He found himself intrigued by the way the halflings gracefully darted up and down the rigging as if the wind wasn't even there, their arms might have been short, but they could climb like no other.

"You're soldiers right? In the Benaduzan army?" He asked one of the halflings as he ran by. The halfling continued about his business, only responding when he had secured a sail and was tied up to the main mast.

"No, not anymore, we're smugglers, we can't do that and also be in the army," he yelled down, sarcasm obvious in his tone.

"Right, I'd forgotten."

The halfling snickered.

"You lie like a mainlander, humie."

"I don't appreciate that term." The other human on board responded. Darlien hadn't exactly researched the crew of this vessel, it was a smuggler vessel that was willing to take him from Ascencion to Praelium, so questions weren't exactly necessary. Even so, Darlien was so confused by these people and their actions that he almost wished he had done a little research.

"Oh, you gonna cry now? Dici Humano, you disgust me." Another of the halflings yelled down from the helm. The human was noticeably angered, a fact that aroused Darlien's curiosity far more than anything else that had happened on the bloody ship.

"You wish to anger a Praelian, halfling? I will gut you like the fish you are!" The man said, suddenly affecting a heavy Praelian accent that he seemed to be attempting to hide. Darlien's eyes shot open, and his sword-hand twitched towards his blade. A Praelian? Here?

Darlien stood immediately, suddenly not bothered by the rolling and lurching of the boat. He almost danced over to the man, who turned to him with a quizzical expression on his face. Darlien drew his sword in one smooth motion, his left hand beginning to glow as he channeled his magic into it. The Praelian's confusion was instantly replaced with a look of fury as he also drew his blade and charged forth without hesitation. He was a former soldier, presumably.

The Praelian struck with a powerful force, almost enough to knock Darlien off his feet, his blade crashing down vertically into Darlien's own.

"Put away your blade." He spoke to Darlien, like a father talking to an immature son. Darlien responded by spitting in the man's face. The Praelian pulled his sword away and punched Darlien against the face. He stood over Darlien, rubbing the spit from his face with a glare.

"Hey, hey, hey! Both of you put your blades away or get off my goddamn ship!" The halfling from the helm ran down and yelled up at the Praelian, spit from his mouth hitting Darlien while he lied on the ground. Karma was a harsh mistress.

This one was stronger than those at the village, Darlien seemed to have underestimated. Now that he looked closer, he noticed a large amount of scars on the man's upper arm, which was massive. Hmm, Darlien would have to pay closer attention to people next time he got into a fight. It didn't matter, Darlien knew, he could trounce him if he really tried, not that he needed to. He pushed himself into a sitting posture and holding out his hand. The Praelian looked confused before offering his own.

"You chose wrong."

Before the man's hand could touch Darlien's, a column of flame shot forth, dousing him in a cloak of orange. His face took on a look of complete terror before being consumed. His screams echoed out for what seemed for far too long, before he collapsed on the deck, the only motion coming from the flame that still cloaked him, crackling. The halflings stared, open-mouthed and sweating. Darlien smiled, standing and stomping over to the burning husk that was once a man. With a wave of his hand, the flame dispelled, leaving a black and charred corpse, yellow bone poking out from gangrenous and destroyed flesh.

He turned to the halflings, with a smug smile, watching them as they attempted to slink away from him, filling every corner and hiding their faces with their hands. With a shrug, he spoke.

"Let's get going."

(Claudius Ker'Rak (Side), War Room, Paline, Praelium)

Claudius was visibly taken aback all the information that Holden had just told him. On'hino was more so an after thought in the grand scheme of things. Their focus was more towards the tribes to the north and the powder keg that was Benaduza. There were also still worried about the burning of their village by some mystery force. Perhaps that was On'hino? Or were they dealing with two threats, on top of Benaduza and the desert tribes?

Oh, Carver is going to have quite the head ache when he hears this...

Claudius regained himself, and returned to his profession posture.

"Well Holden, while you prove yourself to be a man of your word," Claudius said, gesturing towards the previously tossed pendant. "These are still quite the claim. What do you gain from all this, Major d'Alnharte? Revenge against those charges brought upon you? I'll disclose our plans when I know your motives." Claudius waved his hand to dismiss the young soldier, who's eyes were wide with shock.

(Lieutenant Alon d’Trilith (Side), Officer of the Royal Army, Perona, On’hino)

“See to it that the Goliath-Class vessels understand their positions.” Alon watched the Sea Tiger run off down the bustling streets, before he turned to Colonel Marius. He looked up at the half-giant. “That’s the last of the preparations. The Expeditionary Force intends to beach near Daradium. They won’t fly any flags, but the port will go down in flames before the Seventh Cavalry hits the beaches.”

“Excellent.” Marius grinned, and ruffled the lieutenant’s hair. “Establish fortifications there, and we’ll turn it into a gathering point for the rest of the march.”

Alon broke free of Marius’ grip, and fixed his hair. “The brass still hasn’t said a word on what further orders we have, once the fortifications are complete.”

“In due time, Trilith, in due—“

The ground shook as an explosion shattered the air, and the quiet ambience of the port. The barking of vendors was replaced with screams, and the barking of orders. Alon was quick to run towards the harbor, cursing under his breath. A towering inferno swarmed several of the ships; the crew all but swallowed in its fiery embrace.

At the docks, several of the Sea Tigers clashed steel with armored soldiers; any sign of an insignia scratched off of their plates. It was a cowardly attack, with nobody there to take responsibility. Alon ran onto the docks, and behind one of the attackers. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he kicked the soldier’s leg out before shoving him down between two Goliath-Class ships. A scream was cut off as the two ships collided; turning the armored warrior into a giant, gory, steel coin.

Drawing his blade, Alon blocked the blow of another soldier before sinking down, and running him through. He grabbed the soldier’s sword-arm, and held it in place until the blood loss sapped the last of the foe’s life. Ripping his sword free, the lieutenant looked around to find the rest of the attackers already dispatched, but not without losses of their own. He looked at the burning ship; charred forms barely distinguishable from the deck.

“Hino’s balls,” he muttered, before looking at the remaining pirates. “Drag these bodies off the docks, so we can look into this. And put that damned fire out before I throw you lot in!”

Several of the ships still in the harbor set sail; loaded to the brim with Sea Tigers, with little more than bloodlust fueling their sails.

“As of this moment,” Marius declared, walking onto the docks, “I’m authorizing the Sea Tigers to sieze and search every non-military ship in the region. I want the men responsible for this… this insult, to hang from atop the Shining City’s walls!”

(Holden d’Alnharte (Main), Paline’s War Room, Praelium)

“I’m many things, Claudius,” Holden assured the dragon born, “but a liar, I would think not.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I care little for revenge, as well. What I seek for now is refuge. As much as my providing of information could be considered treason, my standing records with the On’hinian government leaves me a wanted man.”

Approaching Claudius, the Exile offered his hand once more. “I’ll offer what services I can to stop the conquest, spare bending my knee to a new king. If left unopposed, the General-Kings will undo everything that King Torin and his ancestry have worked so hard to achieve.”

(On'hinian Royal Navy was attacked at the Port of Perona; any ships that aren't flying the Naval Flag are going to be stopped, searched, and seized if the Sea Tigers deem it necessary.)

(Gennio e'Dux (Side), seas outside Estantium)

A king wasn't supposed to personally patrol the waters.

Gennio didn't much care what a king was supposed to do, the rising ethnic tension was too much of a bother to continue to deal with, what they needed was a good war, all Gennio needed was an excuse, though those were harder to come by. He stared out into the sea, ever moving and almost endless, you could disappear into it without a trace, never to be found or buried, it was terrifying, and yet Gennio was a part of it. Perhaps it was his Halfling blood, perhaps it was the fact that he'd spent so much time on a boat.

His introspection wasn't putting wind in the sails, so he stopped, instead taking up a telescope and looking over the horizon. While he did so, the vessel's captain approached him and saluted, placing his hand upon his heart and clicking his heels, he spoke in Gnomish with a Daradi accent.

"My king, your presence on this lowly patrol brings me much comfort, and I am glad to be of service to lady Benaduza." He stated, chin up. Gennio ignored him, leaving the halfling standing there, hand still on heart. It was at least five minutes before he looked up and began to respond.

"Yes, yes, I'm so grand, move on, we have a schedule to keep," he dismissed the man and walked away.

He moved towards the starboard bow, where a gnome looked out with telescope in hand. His ears twitched as he noticed something.

"Captain, I see frigates... On'hinian flags," he reported quickly. Gennio growled. In my waters?
How dare these fools!?

Gennio turned to the rest of the crew and drew his axe from his back, to which the crewmen gasped, some out of surprise and others out of anticipation, many wished to see the halfling king's ability first-hand.

"Put up parley flags, when they get close we board them and kill them all, take what you can and be sure to take a head or two, we're going to need something to send to their king," he roared, grabbing on a grappling rope and resting it on his shoulder. Looking around for the rest of the boarding party, he noticed the rigging, tall enough for a halfling to be the size of a troll. Putting the rope in his mouth and the axe on his back, he climbed, resting halfway to the first sail, sitting on a wood outcropping and drawing his weapon.

The On'hinians had closed within a few moments, and with a cry, Gennio leapt from the mast, tossing the rope towards the enemy vessel and swinging himself over. As he fell, he drove his axe through the skull of a foolish human, landing with it still lodged in the man's head. Kicking the man's knee to push him to a kneel, he yanked the axe loose and pushed him away. Dancing between the On'hinans in a flurry of axe-swings and punches, he carved a swath through the human lines. He barely realized that the battle had been one by the time he was called out of his rage by the ship's captain.

"We've won, my king, thanks to your incredible assau-"

"Spare me, you've taken heads, I saw it, put them in some bloody boxes and send them to On'hino,
I'm going back to the ship, scuttle all of these vessels to the bottom," he responded, turning and leaping back to the halfling vessel.

Perhaps this is the excuse I've been looking for.

(General Kings, War Room, Okeluiso, On’hino)

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Thibault folded his arms over his chest, staring at the messenger. He sighed, and gave him a dismissive wave. Once the messenger left the room, the general turned to the other two. “Recall the diplomats from Benaduza. The Distant Frost contingency is to go into effect.”

“We’re not exactly making many friends,” Galedrith said, “perhaps this isn’t the best course—“

“So we should let them spit in our faces like this?” Thibault snapped. “Contact the Knights of Stal. They’re to join the Sea Tigers. When the Seventh Cavalry take that rock in Daradium, capture anyone who surrenders. Sail them to the Benaduzan coast, and let them watch as their people are executed!”

“And what of Praelium?” Val asked. “We cannot fight two wars at once.”

“To the Umbra with Praelium! They’re not flexible enough to mount an offensive.” Thibault looked to Galedrith. “Have the forces recovered from the mess in Perona?”

“They have. The Seventh Cavalry has already set sail.”

“Then we wait for them to do their work. Once they’re complete, we’ll have their ships meet with the Sea Tigers for an assault on Estantum. A thousand drops for every drop of an On’hinians. Do we know who was responsible for the attack in Perona?”

Galedrith shook his head. “My spies have drawn up nothing.”

“That seems to be about all they’re good for,” Thibault grumbled. He turned his gaze to the clear skies, outside his window. “You know what the good thing about halflings are, Galedrith? You can stuff two in a casket.”