[IC] The New Empires

[Goldeagle1221]

Party time with Jim and William

Jim raised a perplexed brow at the sudden interruption by the armored stranger, then the second brow when the Harnarthian prince jumped in to interject the sudden accusations of the noble fashion critic.

The Marmon king lowered his head and rested his fingertips on the bridge of his nose as if pinching it in thought. He slowly lifted his head back up, letting his hand slid down to his chin, which he began to stroke as if in thought, keeping his eyes attentive to his conversationalist guests. He felt a sudden brushing of a hand on his side and he turned with a surprised and silent spin of the waist and was handed a folded piece of paper by the beautiful lady from earlier. With a smiling nod and a quick interlocking of fingers the woman took her leave. Jim pocketed the note and turned back to the scenario that was laid before him, returning to his confused stare.

“ How interesting ” , He thought to himself as he kept his stare consistent, breaking it with quick curved lips showing acknowledgement when appropriate to passerby.

---

William smiled and patted the hilt of his stolen blade, “Riding has always been a passion of mine, it is only fitting one does what they love.”

With a nod and a quick smacking of the lips, retrieving any food stuck to his teeth William pursed his lifes in a feigned thought, noticing the small welcoming party surround Jim, “So how are you liking the party?” William questioned while picking up two au d’oeuvres and offering one politely to Asurar with a friendly gesture.

[LancerDancer]

Adjutor Insula

Good and Evil. Honour and Ambition

Gombas awoke to the crash of lightning in his legs and a blazing fever in his mind. His eyes forced themselves to open through a thick layer of sleep dust, and watery shapes floated across his vision. The bed he was laying on, although comfortable, jolted with every second. He quickly realised he was still in his carraige, but before he could ask what was happening, a damp cloth smothered his face.

"Blurgh," he spat, using arms full of lead to beat off his attacker.

"Captain, the Templar awakens," comes the stern voice of a woman.

"Move aside," it is the Captain to whom Gombas entrusted his life. "Templar, can you hear me?"

"Yes," Gombas said with a cracked tongue. "Water."

There was some comotion before the cold clay of a water jug reached his lips, and a pair of mailed gloves hoisted him upright. It was at that moment, this his hip ignited in a blazing array of pain and damnation.

"Faran's bowels," Gombas shot, wincing with the intense burn of a fractured hip. "Am I dying?"

"Perhaps," the woman said, moving in to bat his face with the wet cloth once more. "Your hip is fractured, along with your knees and shins. If your blood does not suffer the taint, then you may live, but will never walk again." She said matter-of-factly.

Gombas was an old man on a divine mission. He needed no legs where he was going. "Where are we?" He asked.

"Approaching Love's dockyard, where the King is mustering his army," the Captain replied.

"You are turning me in, Captain?" Gombas asked with a sigh of sadness.

"No," the Captain replied. He stood from the bench of the carraige, and waved a hand over a wooden rail. Templar Gombas could not see what was being pointed at, but he suddenly became aware of a thousand beating feet upon crafted concrete. "We're going to war, Templar, to end this madness once and for all."

"We must not drive our country into civil war," Gombas said, sitting himself further upright despite the pain. He fixed the Captain's blue eyes through his visor. "I will speak to the King, before the soldiers. He must allow me that much. I will show them what he is, and they will no longer follow."

The Captain shook his head; a patronising yet hysterical grin hidden behind his helm. "It is too late for words I'm afraid. Even if the King were a mass child rapist, fear has swept our country like a plague. Everyone looks to Marcus for their safety; vows have been forgotten, lessons burned. Holy men now reach for the sword, and the less savoury, reach for a sceptre. Our country is ended, Templar, lest we can stop the King here and now."

A single tear rolled from Gombas' left eye. "That I should live, to see this come to pass. How can so much happen in such little time? Centuries of institutions, charity, love and preaching smashed by an evil man's lust for power."

"All should fear evil men, Templar Gombas, for they oft cause the end of many things," the Captain said, but then he leaned forwards. "But there is a greater evil, that we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men."

"I have little love for philosophy now, Captain," Gombas muttered. "My people will murder themselves, and the carrion will pick the remains. Dump me from this carriage, so that I may die like the broken fool I am."

The Captain shook his head. "I cannot. You have stirred the last of the Insula's true guardians to action, Templar. I have spread the word of Lady Aticus' condition quickly, and many are outraged. Furthermore, the King was unwise to disband the order. Thousands flock to your banner, and Faran willing, I will lead them to victory in your stead."

"No," Gombas sobbed, suddenly losing control of his emotions. "No one dies on my behalf. No one. Kill me. Pursue your own designs for death and destruction, but do not use me as an excuse. Faran guide me!"

"War is happening, whether you like it or not, Templar. I will save this land, and it pains me that your mind, like your body, has broken. Rest easy, Templar, for I understand your suffering," the Captain said with finality. He turned to dismount the carriage.

"Wait!" Gombas cried, and the Captain turned his head to the side. "Take me to the King. If I cannot end this travesty with words, then you may end it with the sword."

The Captain sighed.

[Dinh AaronMk]

Bapa River

Dark river water lapped gently along the hull of the acorn-shaped canoe. The oarsman stood over Affurendi, pushing and turning in his rough scabbed hands the long pole that pushed against the silty bottom of the river. The water was still here, almost as much as a pond. It flowed gently alongside them, sparkling in the evening sun. The reflection of the golden light on the water's surface was the only real indication of the river's flow and that it was not all dead.

The banks of the river rested large twisted trees, their knotted bark contorting in fractal shapes as they twined and danced into the smooth hands of the outer boughs. Massive leaves the size of dinner plates hung heavy with brown fruits and flocks of birds. Affurendi watched as the chirping and cawing finches and ravens darted in the soft shadows of the watery groves' kingdoms.

“You hear of the winds, goa?” the raftsman said in a voice held as still as the water's surface. The old satyr looked up at him, the oarsman stared off down river, his eyes still and a conversationalist's smile on his face.

“I'm afraid I haven't paid attention.” the Overroomi said, “Which is a shame.”

“T'is, goa.” his ferryman laughed, “There's a saltiness on its breath. Bantui-Moa no doubt wants us to know something is up. But I don't think her words are as clear as they could. I would speak with the shaman in Tonbo if I had the time.”

“We'll have to see if you have that.” Affurendi smiled politely.

“What about you? You have time to meet with them?” he asked.

“Oh, I doubt it.” shrugged Affurendi, his gaze turned indifferently to the trees. The dominance of the mangroves were beginning to wane as thickets gave way to grassy banks. Indifferent buffalo and rhino watched the travelers on from the far banks. “I have business that's important. I don't think I will have time.”

“That is unfortunate to hear, goa.” the ferryman sighed, “Someone told me the day before we left off that he was told they think the wind is a signal of fire. Beyond the grasslands, on the sea and beyond. He said that earlier a friend of his cousin's brother had found the remains of foreign vessels on the shore.

“Now I'm not saying I know anything about the ocean,” he added, “but I do imagine if what's left of zouma vessels are landing on our shore then something is up.”

“Well that sounds like something worth getting to the bottom of.” Affurendi said indifferently, “How much longer to Tonbo?”

“Bait a day. The last checkpoint is on the bend ahead. We'll let off for the night there.”

[Dinh AaronMk]

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