Force and Fury

O R I F L A M M E

Act Two: Scattered to the Winds____ __ _ _

Chapter Five: The Stand______ __ _ _

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Tales of Heroes 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅯 𝅘𝅥𝅰

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In the Quentic Faith, there exist many tales of brave stands against seemingly impossible odds. These are much beloved of the commons, the nobles, and the church alike, but for different reasons. For the first, they represent the triumph of man - and, sometimes, even woman - against things much greater than himself. They are agency attained with the blessings of the Gods. For the second, they are an ideal to aspire to: the legendary story that will resound through the ages, the fulfillment of the ideals of a nascent form of chivalry. For the last, who approve and promote them most fervently, the stories are proof positive of the power and mercy of the Gods. They are what might be achieved by those who place their trust in forces greater than themselves and act upon faith. St. Defrois slew the Dawn Wyvern not because he was more powerful than it, but because he was blessed with Chune's sagacity and Echeran's might.

Yet, for every story told of a brave hero's triumph or noble, meaningful sacrifice, there are twice as many untold. That is because the heroes in question did not win and if thy died, they saved no one. It this fear that nipped so persistently at the edges of their minds as hundreds of knights, magicians, and men-at-arms huddled within the dark, dank, strangely warm caverns beneath Mont Errant. They had tried fighting the Eskandr and they had failed. They had tried fighting the dragon and they had failed. Even now, it circled above, howling and screaming into the predawn darkness. Blasts of fire cooked the mountainside shrubbery and boiled away streams and small pools. Beyond some measure of protective rock lay a hellscape of choking smoke and scalding steam that bled and billowed from sheets of flame. So it was that they prayed. In diverse degrees of faith, hope, and vigor, they beseeched, now, the five members of the Pentad - but Echeran above the others - to intercede on their behalf or to grant them the strength to overcome this trial and become heroes instead of victims.

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Heroes to Some

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If one side prayed to its gods, the other's appeared to have actively interceded. In the matter of an hour, the situation had transformed from nearly hopeless for the Eskandr to a victory of sorts. The Nashorn had laid low the cream of the other side's army. Sweyn Thunderspear had been restored to health, and the dragon's ire focused almost solely on their enemies. If it was difficult to leave behind such a magnificent hunt for some, the consolation was now that they would be hunting bigger prey.

At a run and a canter, they made haste for the east and the great city of learning and libraries known as Chamonix. Capture it in tandem with their attacks and those of the Enthal Drudgunzeans further south, and they would escape this scenario with some gains to show for it and a strong positioning at the bargaining table. If Eskand could not have all of Parrence, then it would at least have a good chunk and its enemies would be permanently weakened. The larger prize was Arcel himself. His army was in close pursuit of Hrothar's, looking to bring the Black King to battle. He was not, however, aware of the second army now coming up behind his. Should the charismatic young monarch fall in battle, surely it would break the Parrench spirit. Should he be captured, his ransom would bankrupt the enemy treasury.

It was on a warm and drizzly late Stresian morning when Sweyn Thunderspear's scouts, led by his fellow Æresvaktr, Ulfhild of Ulven, sighted the rearguard of King Arcel's Army, itself shadowing Hrothgar's and perhaps only a day's ride from the city gates. The decision that emerges is a key one: immediate attack or settling in for a longer campaign? The stage is set for a second great clash of armies: one that might determine the fate of nations.

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Shune's Gambit

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It was not only from Echeran that the potential answer to their prayers arrived. Both strength and wisdom had combined those two hundred years prior to slay one maddened beast, and so they would ally once more. A bold plan was hatched by Ser Maerec de Solenne, weighed by others including the Queen herself, her brother Count Perceval, freshly healed, and finally the famed Kressian dragonslayer Hildr the Red. Of the Eskandr forces, she alone had remained, her insight and experience potentially invaluable in the fight to come.

For the next hour, humans, small and trembling but with increasing boldness, risked approaching one of the cave system's entrances and peering out into the slowly-lightening void beyond. After a time, the furious creature cooled, its passes becoming less frequent, its blasts of fire sporadic. Then, the earth itself shook, small rocks tumbling loose from the cavern's ceilings, a couple of stalactites hitting the ground. People cried and prayed, but the danger passed after only a few seconds and they found themselves in Oraphe-Sept's debt. When the next party crept out from their refuge, the great maddened beast rested atop the mountain, thin trickles of smoke spiraling up from its nostrils into the deep blue sky.

So it was that their desperate campaign began not with a charge and a battlecry, but with Queen Eleanor, Ser Maerec, Dame Hildr, and two dozen handchosen knights in the drizzly predawn. Flames guttered in blackened tree stumps. Smoke drew the odd cough from the group. Every footstep kicked up pale, ghostly ash from where it lay upon the ground. It was within this otherworldly setting that they made their way up a darkened mountain under fading stars, hoping that - someday - stories might be told of what was to come.

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Action Opportunities

Welcome to the final chapter of the act: The Stand! In this last set of posts, we're going to wrap this arc up and hopefully bring it to a satisfying conclusion. Below are some ideas and guidelines to help enable that.

• The Eskandr and Parrench forces have now separated in the chaos caused by the dragon's reemergence and attack. While the latter attempt to stop it from causing further harm, the former have used it as a diversion to help them execute their original plan. They are headed at breakneck pace for Chamonix and have just sighted the the rearguard elements of King Arcel's army a day's ride out from the city and, themselves, in pursuit of Hrothgar's army.
• Ulfhild and Arnaud will have a chance to potentially play out a one-on-one encounter should they wish, which could have larger tactical implications depending on who's alerted and how they respond.
• The dragon in question, a Tyrannus Gehenna, is over two hundred feet in length, with enough use of the Gift to deny most direct internal attacks unless overwhelmed or distracted and a healing factor that allows it to recover from near-fatal wounds within a couple of hours. Its hide is generally too thick for all but the strongest of magically-enhanced projectiles to pierce. It is currently resting atop Mont Errant, angered but not enraged, slightly tired but far from exhausted.
• Ser Maerec has a plan that involves using kinetic and essence magics to reduce its threat before hopefully pacifying it. @Dao Ma should be consulted on this. Discord or the OOC may be used to help coordinate our actions in the final fight.
• Camille has some personal stakes here in the form of family and companions who are recovered but in danger. Feel free to involve them however you see fit, @Pirouette.
• We will be playing our combat against it hopefully this weekend. All parties inlvolved (Arsene, Maerec, Camille, Caelum, and Hildr), please take a moment to inform each other and myself what the best time to coordinate this will be.

Good luck and happy posting!

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Pre-Interest Check Ideas

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𝅗𝅥... 𝅘𝅥... 𝅘𝅥𝅮... 𝅘𝅥𝅯...
𝅗𝅥... 𝅘𝅥... 𝅘𝅥𝅮... 𝅘𝅥𝅯...

🙠 Magic lives within 🙢 🙡 the margins. 🙣 .................................................................	█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █	In days of yore, long before you or I entered this world, it is said that magic flowed freely and naturally through all things. These stories persist in dusty old tomes, folktales, and increasingly fanciful recountings. They speak of wise and terrible wizards, known as Zenos, who stretched their power across continents, grasping nobility who basked in the light and life of powers ancient and arcane, and great and fiendish demons who sought to bathe the lands of men in eternal darkness. That was, those voices from the past insist, before the Death of Magic. The year is Dami 64, and the scholarship of any civilized nation rightly regards these primitive claims with rigorous skepticism. Even if we are to accept that once it was an invisible and fantastical application of magic that bound the brotherhood of man together, bands of steam, steel, and signal have superseded it now, and with growing efficacy. The engines of industry thunder forward in their tireless churn, producing the conveniences and opportunities of modernity. Towering smokestacks and stunning new edifices of iron, glass, and marble rise into the skies of grand old-world cities and their burgeoning new brethren across the Asperic Ocean. Where once travel was difficult, dangerous, and time-consuming, one can now move between Michaugo and Relouse in under a week, and this figure decreases with each passing year. Key to this dynamic growth has been the Mephisto Company, headquartered in Blackthistle Manor, a sprawling industrial park on the outskirts of Harrowend, capital of the United Kingdom of Greater Enth and Hendland. It has been sixty years since the discovery of the symbiotic protists known as manas by founder and genius inventor Thaddeus Lowell. Where the ancients put their workings down to something as vague and arcane as 'magic', the vast majority struggling to harness this immense boon, modern science has isolated their ability to make use of energies both manmade and naturally occurring. Thermal, mechanical, electromagnetic, chemical, and atomic, the Mephisto Company's tools and machines have allowed people to harness each by interfacing with their bloodstream-dwelling symbiotes. To say that this has revolutionized life the world across would be an understatement, and the rising tide has lifted all, lord and labourer alike. Now, one may take his fate into his own hands and purchase the ability to wield this great Gift of the most Holy Pentad. Yet, there are always outliers, ingrates, and rascals. There are those who decry the great work of the Mephisto Company and advocate for a return to the savage and unenlightened old ways of 'natural magic', where a privileged few ran roughshod over the rest, who subsisted in fear, darkness, and ignorance. It was against this backdrop that, early this morning, Thaddeus, the greatest mind of his age, was found dead in his sleep at the age of eighty-seven. May he rest in Eshiran's peace and Shune's light. No word has yet reached the public, and his five heirs have gathered at his country estate in Briarthorn Weald to read his will. They have also invited you. To what purpose remains unspoken. Already there are whisperings that foul play and grasping ambition bubble just beneath a placid surface, threatening to boil over.

^{A Legend of Sipenta}

The Hourglass Order

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Almost miraculously, the inclement weather from earlier cleared: rain to sun, heavy clouds to blue skies and a stiff, refreshing breeze that stretched flags out at full flutter and turned the hair of anyone who bothered to keep it long into writhing tangles. Seagulls, visiting from the nearby coast, circled and bleated, diving in at the periphery every so often and squabbling over scraps. It was an hour of mingling and hors d'oeuvres. Senior faculty - the Arch-Zenos Intaba, Latvar, Giarrone, Harrachora, Riu, Tojarra, and Nakamura - sat chatting amongst themselves on stage, beneath a sonic dampening bubble with Zenith Upta and, somewhat belatedly, the Paradigm. Servants and enchanted platters weaved among them and they indulged in all manner of culinary delights, but everybody really knew that it was the calm before the storm. If preparations were not quite frantic, it was perhaps because so many irons had already been placed into the fire and, nonetheless, much of the city bordered on the frantic. Then, there were ten minutes remaining. The Zenith called for silence and the group of over a thousand youths more or less delivered it, the final few stragglers stumbling back to the square from a nearby pub.

"You all well know the rules of these Trials," Claresse Upta announced, voice booming over the vast space. "And it has been judged that, perhaps, you know them a little bit too well." A hum of uneasy conversation rose within the crowd. "Many of you also know this city and where your assigned quarters with your masters are. For those who don't..." She snapped her fingers. All at once, a murder of crows seemed to materialize out of thin air. They swooped down into the crowd to the sounds of yelps and panicked cried, alighting on the arms and shoulders of one student from each group. In their beaks, they held rolled-up parchments. These were dropped either gracefully or unceremoniously, depending on how well they were received, before the animals flew off in a great squawking clattering horde. Once the group had settled down somewhat, she continued. "You will find personalized maps to the spaces which will serve as your temporary home bases. However..." and now, a twinkle entered her eye. "There are some rules that you may be expecting - that you may be used to - and, well, you can throw those out the window. This year, we will be trying something new. To that end," she continued, "the following rule changes will be in effect:

• All melons of one hundred points or above are protected by the magic of your zenos and are virtually indestructible. Those of two thousand points or above are protected by your arch-zenos and myself.
• The destruction of any melons may only be undertaken by using other melons. Thrown, acidified, packed with something destructive, that is entirely up to you.
• To assist in this endeavour, there is a new type of melon this year: one hundred melon grenades are hidden about the school grounds. Upon contact with another melon, these tiny melons will cause its destruction and that of any other melon within a ten foot radius, excepting the five elemelons and the supreme.
• Each melon grenade detonated by your team will cost you one hundred points. Each intact one is worth fifty. This is a tactical choice that you will have to make.
• Finally, hidden about campus are ten 'Dark Melons'. These are distinct in appearance from all other fruits in today's event and they come from Nonin, Hanien, and Casong. You should be looking for small, purple, and very well-hidden melons, pointed at one end. Upon touching another melon, they will open a melon-destroying portal of twenty feet in radius, capable of eliminating any other fruit, including the five elemelons and the supreme.
• You will have a choice to make, however: each Dark Melon is worth five hundred points if kept intact and, like grenades, will cost you one hundred points if destroyed.

She paused. "Oh yes, one final matter: the rule from years past against entering others' bases has been repealed. Rules against wanton property destruction remain in effect, and any indecent invasion of privacy or theft of all items but melons will be punishable by immediate disqualification. Otherwise, you are free to enter and wreak whatever havoc you please."

What followed was essentially an uproar, as plans and prep work were thrown into chaos. Less than the majority but more than a few looked - and even sounded - distinctly unhappy. Others cheered. Ruthlessly, the sound of the latter was increased by Arch-Zeno Riu and then all other noise appropriately muffled. "And on that note," the Zenith declared, "Let me not keep you a moment longer." The great clock behind her, on the tower of Balthazar Hall, struck two o'clock Oraff and its chimes echoed across the plaza. "Off with you, then! Off with you!" Zenith Upta shouted. "I shall see you all again in five hours!"

Dark Melons

Melon Grenades

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It took precisely ten seconds for Benedetto to make an ass of himself. "The destruction of any melons may only be undertaken by using other melons," he mimicked poorly. "Well how 'bout this!?" he crowed, spiking a one-pointer he'd grabbed into the ground. Instead of exploding into mush and fragments, however, and spraying his and his teammates' clothes, the fruit rebounded and smacked him in the face. Benny staggered backwards and both Marceline and a couple of the pirates they'd allied with burst out laughing. "Something fucking funny?" Benedetto snarled. "It was an experiment." His face was red and only the very real fear of what he might do if pushed allowed Penny to tamp down on her own laughter.

"We should split up," announced Anthal, the nominal leader of the group. "Four on defense - search n your way back to the house - the rest in pairs, roaming and targeting our best prospects." Penny was supposed to be with Marci on her way to the house because they were both slow, and the plaza was emptying out quickly - a near-stampede. That was when she got an idea. There was no rule against melons being within the square itself, and she was no more than a dozen feet from the fountain. Reaching out with the Kinetic Gift, she blew wind over the vines that snaked about it, rustling their leaves and pretty purple flowers. A small melon shape! She felt it or - rather - felt her wind encounter resistance and arc around it. Trying not to dash forward too obviously, she sat on the lip, set her crutches aside, and buried her hands in the leaves. "Already sitting down on the job," mocked Benny. "Typical fucking -"

"She has a melon, you fool," hissed Anjeluun, one of the yasoi. The others immediately grouped around Penny and her hand seized upon it. It was small - quite small - and, when she pulled it out, purple! And pointed at one end! "It's a dark!" she exclaimed, voice quiet, holding it tight against her chest. A couple of interlopers were already taking an interest. Then, Marci hobbled towards her, sinking low and enfolding Penny in a hug. "It's okay, you'll do fine, Penny. Don't let their stares get you down." She flashed angry eyes back at the members of the enemy teams and a couple of them drifted off awkwardly. "Put it up your dress," she whispered quickly. "Strap it to your leg. Hurry, while we're hugging."

The Perrenchwoman's eyes widened. It was something they had discussed: hiding melons in the empty side of her skirts. With all of the fancy magics on display, it was unlikely that people would suspect such a simple deception. Even if they did, would anybody really be so uncouth and indecent as to reach out and grope the apparent 'stump' of some poor amputee girl on the off-chance that they were right? It was awkward and not altogether convincing as a normal 'embrace', but Penny got the melon in place and strapped to her upper thigh. She pretended to wipe away some tears and she stood and grabbed her crutches. Five hundred points in the bag if I can just get you safely back to Zeno Solstice's. Let's go! The others were already running off to execute the rest of their strategy. Penny did not delay in following.

Lucky Seven's Strategy

Zeno Born-on-Solstice's team, Lucky Seven, includes Benedetto Corvi, Penny Pellegrin, Marceline Escarra, Marlijn Vaanse, and Owain Vaanse. It is allied with Skull & Crossbones. Their plan includes sending four people searching for melons on their way back to their Zeno's house. One, Penny, has already gotten lucky and found a Dark Melon, so she is temporarily swappin with Owain to return her precious cargo. Marceline will use her tethered range to defend the house, detect the energy signatures of special melons when they're activated, and assist her teammates from afar. Jaxan will coordinate and shore up defenses, and Anjeluun will employ temporal and dark magics to hide and shield their melons where they can't be touched as well as opportuniistically snipin at other teams' temporal finds. The other six will split into pairs and prioritize the Cathedral, the Proving Grounds, and Hedda's Lake, in the Arboretum. They intend to have their stronger member lead, with a stealthy partner - Marlijn, Revan, and Enoxi - following discreetly or stealthed as a secret weapon. The stronger members (Benedetto, Anthal, and Penny), likely able to outpull opponents in a tug of war, will use any elemelons that they find, if fortunate enough, as weapons against opposing players, held telekinetically.

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Melon Derby Scoring

Melon Derby Scoring

This is a scored and ranked event, with point totals for a good finish being reflected on the leaderboard. These final scores are not the same as in-event scoring. They will be as follows:

• First Place: 50 points
• Second Place: 40 points
• Third Place: 35 points
• Fourth Place: 30 points
• Fifth Place: 25 points
• Sixth to Tenth Place: 20 points
• Eleventh to Twenty-Fifth Place: 10 points
• Twenty-Fifth to Fiftieth: 5 points
• All Other Finishers: 2 points
• Disqualified: 0 points
• Disqualified (Dangerous Play): -5 points

Allied teams will share rankings. Hence, there are only 128 ranks for this event. In the event of a tie between two alliances (a total of four teams), both will receive the designated point total and the next rank below will be skipped.

Rules & Resources

Rules & Resources

Please find a detailed map of the city for the upcoming Melon Derby below. The second map details where your home bbases are located. All of you will begin in the plaza north of Balthazar Hall. Also, take a look at the Guest Teams Guide for information on your allied teams, as well as the Leaderboard to stay up to date on scoring. You will be responsible for playing out your interactions with allied teams unless I state otherwise.

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Trial One: The Great Melon Derby

With the holiday Melon Day having just ended, thousands of melons flood the city of Ersand'Enise. Most years, the number comes in just north of 20,000. This year, the exact total is 20,716, mostly divided between the five 'elemental' melon types of firemelon, watermelon, thundermelon, terramelon, and cloudmelon.

Precisely one of each type is special: created through binding magic and seeded with a spell that will trigger only once it is picked up by someone with a RAS of 5.00 or above or magic requiring that threshold is used upon it. Each elemelon's spell will correspond to its elemental type: the firemelon will scald and radiate intense heat, the watermelon will splash and spray water, the thundermelon will visibly zap and shock, the terramelon will rapidly grow long, lashing vines and spray dirt, and the cloudmelon will buffet its bearer and surrounding area with strong gusts of wind. They will continue to do this as long as they are held in hand or directly by magic. One further melon, of a type that matches the element of the deity currently in ascendance, is the 'Melon Supreme'. It is seeded with a temporal magic spell that will freeze time for all but its holder for precisely two minutes. It will also send out a massive beam of energy into sky, marking the position where it was picked up. It is strongly recommended that its bearer use their two free minutes to beat a hasty retreat to somewhere safer. However, every time after this, whenever it is set down or transferred to another player, the beam will shoot upwards again, revealing its position.

Each melon is worth a particular number of points, with the special 'elemelons' being worth the most. Below is a guide to these:

All standard melons (there are 20,050) are worth 1 point. These give no special indication. They are, however, noticeably tougher than they should be and... somewhat bouncy.

Some larger melons (there are 500) are worth 10 points. These have a bell hidden inside and will jingle. The bells have a specific magic signature and are very hard to counterfeit. They are also rather tough and bouncy.

Melon grenades (there are 100) are special. They are worth 50 points if preserved, but may also explode upon contact with another melon and cause the destruction of all melons below elemelon level within a ten foot radius. However, destroying a melon grenade will cost your team 100 points.

A small number of very large melons (there are 50) are worth 100 points. These have a special magic item bound inside of them that will release a pleasant and pungent aroma whenever they are handled. Also very hard to counterfeit and nearly unbreakable without using melon grenades or dark melons.

Ten rare dark melons from Callanast are each worth 500 points and appear different from all other melons. More powerful than grenades, they will cause melons within a radius of twenty feet, including elemelons and the supreme, to disappear into a dark portal and [REDACTED]. If destroyed, dark melons will cost your team 100 points.

The five 'elemelons' are each worth 2000 points and are essentially indestructible. These will have the effects described in the previous paragraph, depending on the element that they represent.

The one Melon Supreme is worth a mighty 10,000 points. For this year, it is virtually indestructible. It is generally considered an all-but automatic win. Only twice in history has a team finished with this melon in its possession and not won.

Teams may acquire melons by all and any means possible, barring direct assault causing serious bodily harm against their opponents or non-participants. They may lie, cheat, steal, bribe, and destroy at will and often do. Targeting opponents' melons to deny them points is a tried and true tactic and the teams' home bases (their Zeno's house) are often temporarily turned into veritable fortresses. All melons acquired by a team must be deposited at their home base by the time the five hours are up and the bells ring in order to count for scoring purposes.

In general, the rule with regards to cheating is, 'cheat in style.' Counterfeit melons, created either through binding or a mix of chemical and greengrowth abilities need to be able to seamlessly pass as the real thing. Get busted and any fake melons you're caught with will cost your team five points each. Rough someone up? That's a 25 point penalty, though some teams tactically decide to eat it. As for sneaking into an enemy team's home base? New for this year, you're now allowed to try! However, any severe or life-threatening injuries that you cause that can't be quickly healed through binding will result in immediate disqualification. Just... don't be that edgy. It's not worth it.

As for magic or abilities that move a melon through time and interdimensional space? Every time that an elemelon or he supreme is moved through temporal magic, it will weaken. The first will make it vulnerable to normal melon grenades. The second will render it equal to a one-point melon in durability. The third will leave it equal to a regular melon. A fourth will destroy it. For Melons moved outside of this dimension, they will become heavier and heavier the longer that they remain outside of it, trying to 'pull' themselves back in. Anybody holding one will need to engage in a series of escalating roll checks each posting window in the discord thread. These melons will also need to be constantly held, automatically returning if let go.

When the derby ends and melons are totaled and inspected, they must be in a condition judged to be 'consumable' as part of a healthy meal in order to earn their team points. Destroyed, badly damaged, obvious cheat, or rotten melons will not count, regardless of which type they are (including the elemelons and the supreme). The five teams with the highest point totals will occupy the podium for this event. Allied teams will share the same ranking.

Posting for this Cycle

Posting for this Cycle

The great Melon Derby will last for two cycles in total. Each team may post one hidden strategy of up to 500 words in their group-specific channel on discord, which may contain elements they do not wish to be publicly viewable. Beginning at 12:00 AM GMT-4 on Wednesday, October 12, and ending at 11:59 PM on Sunday October 16, a thread titled "The Great Melon Derby" will be open on our discord. Any player may post their tactics of up to 300 words in the thread up to twice per day, detailing their intended actions. To avoid more active players monopolizing this opportunity, you must wait for at least three other players to post after you (two of whom must not be on your team) before posting again. Exceptions will be allowed if you and an opposing player are interacting directly. Please refer to the map in the hider above and tag your position and/or route at the bottom of these posts. Unless interruptions occur, each tactical post in the discord thread will be assumed to cover roughly half an hour. Try to keep your actions reasonable for this amount of time. Finally, if a player is using an ability that allows for stealth and is reasonably competent with it, they will not need to publicly reveal their coordinates. These should instead be DMed to me. Other characters may roll, as stated in their posts, for stealth detection and I will set a threshold for that if they are near any stealthed characters.

The Hourglass Order

@Daxam One hundred percent, my dude. To be honest, I was going to close apps again, but I know what an awesome writer you are, so the door's still open. I know that the lore in the IC is a lot, so feel free to join our discord and ask any questions or float out any ideas you might have. Genuinely looking forward to it.

The Hourglass Order

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O F W O L V E S A N D L A M B S

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“Brother Wolfe.”

“It is Brother Lamb now, Brother Ash.”

“I had forgotten about your change in attire,” replied the sanguinaire. “My apologies.”

“Accepted, as always, Brother Ash.”

“This food must’ve cost more than a year’s schooling here,” remarked a third robed man, his vestments simple and blue. “Just think what else they could’ve done with it.”

“Don’t be so dour now, Brother Flint,” cooed a small shapely woman, laying a gentle hand upon his arm. “What is life if we do not make space for flourishing?”

“Are you certain you would not flourish more in the Vermilion Order, Sister Cadence?” asked a woman in brilliant white and gold robes.

“I am a tool of Ipte, let them use me as they will, Sister Lumen.”

“Just so, Sister, and I do not disagree with you. Life is something to be felt.”

“I don’t either,” said Brother Flint gruffly. “Just reeks of hoity-toity types. Something about these spoiled lordlets makes me wish I could smack them in their smug little faces.”

“You have most certainly placed yourself in the right situation to do that,” Brother Lamb assured him. “There are plenty here who could stand to learn proper fear of the Gods.”

“Speaking of which,” said Brother Ash, “Do you see anyone we should be worried about?”

“The stronger Tarlonese,” replied Sister Lumen immediately, “and their unnatural magics.”

“They are fools,” sneered Lamb, “who worship a false goddess.”

“There is a sangunaire among the home teams,” suggested Sister Cadence. “Quite the titillating prospect.”

“She will bear watching,” said Brother Ash quietly, as the Turquoise Hundrian sucked some of the sugar off of her fingers and the Blue Rezaindian filled his little plate. “Leave her to me if she proves a problem.”

“We worried about Verrano’s people?” grunted Flint.

“Only Gloria, really,” Lamb decided. “I will deal with her if necessary.”

“Please play nice,” reminded Sister Cadence. “She is our sister in faith, after all.”

“In a manner of speaking,” sneered Lumen. “Personally, I am more concerned with this ‘Ice King’.”

“He is a fraud,” Brother Ash assured her. “Though I will admit to being intrigued by the Hegelans.”

“They are unremarkable but for their potions,” said Lamb.

“What of the faculty themselves?” inquired Brother Ash, narrowing his eyes and taking a quick bite of his croissant. “You know their intentions were not pure in inviting us over.”

The Dread Priest went still and quiet, gazing out over the crowd and the five members of their allied team: ‘Good Guy Team.’ They were from some exotic place and quite weak in general. Of course, that mattered little to Covenant. They only needed useful idiots who might be disposable. Still, he could tell that Brothers Ash and Flint both lusted for the girl with the eyepatch: Ahrora. She was a rare beauty, to be fair, in an exotic sort of way, but also a godless wretch. She was right now stuffing her face and glancing in their direction, smiling and waving, and Lamb smiled back. Ash would bear watching. Flint, disciplining - painfully, if need be. “You bear no blame, dear brother,” Brother Lamb assured him belatedly. “It is I who they seek and it is I who shall face them if need be.”

“If Hunghorasz comes after you -”

“He will not do so in earnest.” The Lindrian smiled patiently, beatifically.

“But if he does,” Flint insisted.

“Then he shall kill me.” The others flashed concerned looks, in their own unique ways, and Cadence laid a comforting hand upon him. He clasped it, squeezed it, and let it go. “That will be as Reshta wills it, but let us remember our purpose, brothers and sisters.”

“As always, you centre us, Brother Lamb,” said Sister Lumen.

“The Volti,” spat Brother Flint.

“The book,” concluded Brother Ash.

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The Hourglass Order

P R E G A M E S H E N A N I G A N S

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V Y S H T A ' S F A V O U R E D

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“Boop!”

The kick came out of nowhere. Miret let out a yelp and started. “What the fuck, Tyrel?” She twisted round, scowling, and batted at her butt. There was a shoeprint on it. “Look what you’ve done!”

“You should be honoured, tica. You just got kicked by a goddess.”

“You ain’t a goddess. You’re nothin’ but a cousin.”

“I am Vyshta incarnate, peon! I am Talit’yrash-fucking-osmax and I just imprinted your lucky bum with my lone precious foot. You should trade those pants at the next mette’stiroi. Pure profit.”

“Talit’yrash was dignified,” Velani cut in, deadpan.

“Wh-what the fuck?” It was Tyrel’s turn to jump back. “When did you get here?”

“This is your fifth time forgetting that I know temporal.”

“One for each of the bringers!” interjected Miret cheerfully.

“There should be six,” grumbled Tyrel.

Everything around them was frozen in time, including the two constantian yasoi they had allied with and the reasonably pleasant humans accompanying them. Velani was capable enough with temporal magic now to resist the rather basic spell’s hold. Miret had been pulled from it the moment that her cousin’s boot had touched her.

“So, do we rouse the boys?” Velani asked.

The cousins glanced at one another. “Naaah,” they said in unison. There was a pause. “Look how peaceful and derpy Chad looks right now,” Tyrel observed. “Like… how beautiful is that moment in time? How dignified? How could we rob him of that?” She and Miret exchanged glances. “We should cast riggus riggus on him,” giggled the latter.

Tyrel gasped and stifled a horrified laugh.

“On his fuckin’ balls,” added Velani.

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C U B E D ³

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“Ya know, if I didn’t know any better,” said Janaus, “I’d think they didn’t like us.”

“They’re scared,” amended Irina quietly.

“Yeah, well they got rights ta be,” blabbed Zymachias. He’d slipped a flask through the portal in his coat and he now turned it upside down for a swig. “Fuckin’ ‘Ice King’ here just made us a massive target.”

“Shit, sorry guys,” Nojus scratched at the back of his head. “Me no know mine own strength.” He grinned after a second.

“Hardly a laughing matter,” decided Egle. “Everyone wants a piece of us and -”

“The fuckers snaked us,” Zym growled. There had been two teams pretending to vie for their alliance but, at the last second, they’d instead allied with each other, leaving the Ice King and his allies out in the cold. “At this point, we’ve got zero chance, so I say we just take ‘em down with us.”

“Did we really come here to win some goofy magic trials anyway?” Janaus reminded the others.

“I’d have liked to,” Egle grumbled. Irina nodded.

“Should we be like… fuckin’ petty?” Zym prodded, “and just ruin those two teams’ days?”

“I’m good with that,” Janaus agreed.

“Since we’re not winning, I could do with some revenge,” Egle admitted.

“I want blood,” hissed Irina.

“Y’all want me to pull out my party trick?” Nojus inquired, “Put the fear of the ‘Ice King’ into ‘em?”

Janaus and two of the other three shook their heads. “No, save it. Make ‘em feel it in The Dragon.”

The Ice King grinned.

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T H E S E A P E O P L E

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“By the Gods, it is disgusting!”

“There is no actual food in this ‘food’!”

“This one is so burnt, I have no idea what it was in its past life.”

“At least they have snails.”

“You can thank the yasoi for that.”

The hors d’oeuvres were not to the Sea People’s liking. “Who’d have thought the yasoi would be the civilized ones here?” wondered Akeenah aloud. As she spoke, a whole flock of the damned elves came bouncing and skipping by excitedly, stuffing their faces, giggling, and throwing food at each other.

“You were saying?” Yikikauvo replied.

“I find it wondrous how they’re all-but pathologically unable to just walk,” observed Mahoomak.

“Heh, that one literally is,” Auvam pointed out, gesturing at one of the yasoi. “One-legged woman in an asskicking contest.” She looked right at him and smiled and his face went even more ashen than usual.

“Not saving you from that one,” Kyrikeehi remarked absently, picking up her fourth bruschetta.

“H–how do you eat this shit?” Akeenah blurted.

Kyri grinned sheepishly and blushed. “I got Kauvo to turn off my taste buds.”

“Fuck, I shoulda thought of that,” Auvam grumbled. Kauvo winked.

“Just let me do the thinking, buddy,” Mahoomak assured him.

“And I’ll play the tricks,” Kauvo chimed in.

“And I’ll punch things.” It was Akeenah.

“How ‘bout Kyri?” Auvam challenged. Hearing her name, the tall, spidery girl looked up from filling her little plate once more, eyes wide and some disgusting human food dangling from her mouth.

“Why it’s simple, my simple friend! It’s dear Kyri’s job to get punched.” He patted her grandly on the shoulder and she nearly gagged. “That’s why our best girl has to eat up, stay nice and big and strong!”

Kyri shot him a look and a rude gesture.

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T H E H U G G Y B E A R S

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“Smells like breakfast.”

“Uh-huh?”

“No,” Dances-with-Rainbows clarified, “I actually meant that it smells like breakfast.”

“Very original,” Breakfast replied.

Rainbows blinked. “I do not understand, but thank you!” she chirped.

Then, Breakfast’s eyes widened in alarm. “AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Oh my fucking ancestors, his hair is on fire!” She pointed behind the other girl, who whirled on the spot.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! My hair is on fire!” wailed Gives-free-Hugs. “Put it out! Put it out!”

“Oh my gods! Someone put it out!”

“With fire oil,” murmured Punches-Kittens quietly, with a nasty little smile.

“We pray to the water god, patient and clever, rains come now and don’t take forever.
We pray to the hair god, please don’t leave him bare, god.
We pray to the witch, please leave him hair-rich.
We wish for great strength to please fill his clothes. Hugs can live without hair but he truly needs those.
The water shall come in a minute or two, and he shall be saved. We believe it is true.
Water come!” chanted Takes-the-Piss solemnly. “Water come, Splash his head and splash his bum. Hey–ah–ah-ah! Hey-ah-ah-ah!” There was not a hint of mirth in his facade as he began dancing in a circle. This was clearly a sacred ritual. Dozens of the Easterners had gathered round to watch with growing concern and rapt wonderment at the absurd routine.

“I am on FUCKING fire!!” Gives-free-Hugs screamed, running around in circles, thrashing, and throwing himself onto the ground. Of course, he wasn’t. It was all illusory magic and part of a test to see what these Constantians were like, just as the Huggy Bears’ ridiculous aliases were.

“Oh for Eshiran’s sake!” shouted Isabella, one of their allies. “It’s too slow!” Inexperienced in magic, she managed to pull a nearby bucket full of cold water with her very basic Kinetic skills. This, she dumped all over the stout little Nashi, drenching him. The flames immediately disappeared.

“Praise be to the water god, patient and clever. He has answered our call and will do so forever.
Give thanks for the bucket that has saved our friend’s hair. He shall not live all his life being bare up on there. Hey–ah–ah-ah! Hey-ah-ah-ah!”

Punches-Kittens stepped in quickly and placed her hands on Hugs’ ‘burned’ scalp. “Be healed, my child,” she exclaimed, utterly without enthusiasm. When she lifted her hands free, he was as good as new. “Thank you, guys!” He shed happy tears. “I thought I was a goner. And you!” He turned to Isabella tearfully and the Enthishwoman, whose hands were already on her wheels, instinctually took a push back. “Oh thank you thank you thank you! My saviour!” He rushed in, tripped on the footrest of her wheelchair, and got a faceful of her chest. His arms reached out and hugged her anyways. “Thank you,” he murmured, lifting his face free after a long moment.

“Ugh! Hugs, you little perv!” shouted Kittens, rushing in and pulling him away by the ear. This time, he hollered genuinely. “Sorry about…” she trailed off momentarily. “Ugh. All of them.”

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O R I F L A M M E

Act Two: Scattered to the Winds____ __ _ _

Chapter Four: Lurking Peril_________ __ __ _ _

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𝅘𝅥𝅮

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“Hark!” cried a voice, “hark! My prince!” The finely dressed rider pulled up short and to the side of Prince Ulf. “I apologize for my rude interruption,” he spewed breathlessly, “but it is my men in this village. They are loud, rough, and many are Drudgunzean. I did not wish for misunderstanding.” Quickly, the rider dismounted, his black leather books sinking deep into the seaside sand.

“You are Jarl…” Ulf trailed off, a thinly veiled look of distaste settling upon his young features.
“Alsfard, your highness. Jarl Bjorn of Alsfard. Those are my ships just there.” He gestured. “I was speaking with your mother about -”

“I know what you were discussing,” the prince interrupted, holding a hand up for this interloper to cease his talk. He scowled, glancing almost imperceptibly quickly in Vali’s direction. “So you vouch for them, then?”

“I do, my prince.”

“And you will compensate their victims for any damages they cause?”

“They will cause none but, if they do, I shall. On my honour.”

“Very good, Jarl Alsfard,” the youth replied, his voice cracking slightly. “I am glad we have avoided this misunderstanding.”

“As am I, and I am heartily sorry for any inconvenience caused.” He began to depart, heading towards the great longhouse, but then Ulf stopped him. “Say, Jarl Alsfard, have you heard anything about the Quentists who are supposed to be living in this town?”

There was a pause that went on just a half-moment too long. The Jarl furrowed his brow and shook his head tightly. “I’m afraid I know little of this area. My domains are far from here.” He sniffed, patting his horse to keep the beast placated. “I know precios little of their vile faith and wish to know yet less.”

“And where, pray tell, are your domains, Jarl Alsfard?” came the logical next question, but he was spared from answering by the thunder of approaching hooves. It appeared that Rigevand was a popular place for messengers this day. “My prince,” panted the rider, “there is an emergency in the city. A havetskriger is rampaging through the port and the fishermen’s market!”

It was not more than three minutes before thirty footsoldiers and three riders could be seen racing toward the city, their reflections skipping and wavering across the blue-grey waters of the Gulf of Eskand.

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Kol could sense the approaching rider long before he could see her, and he knew who she was. “There is a problem in the city,” called the Skygge, coming to a stop. “The creature your king tortures under the docks has broken loose. It has killed many and thirsts for yet more blood. It blocks our access to the Gift.” She held out a hand to help pull him onto the great white mare that she sat astride. “If Arne is to be Æresvaktr then we had best gather him too. I can think of no better time for him to prove his worthiness.”

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The havetskriger was a great seal-like beast, over thirty feet in length, with a thick leathery hide, layers of blubber, and a series of tusks that it had used to smash up piers and boats as surely as it had employed them against ice in the past. Now, it was aground and hauling itself awkwardly about the port district and the market with surprising speed, people fleeing before it, structures smashed or crushed in its wake.

Already, a few braver individuals had sunk arrows into the maddened creature, and these stuck out like sparse bristles in places. Yet, they seemed to do precious little to slow it and it was clear that more would be needed. With everything near to the sea emptying out, the city devolved into chaos. Robbers and brigands looted, innocents sheltered and huddled in fear, and the great katterhorns sounded an alarm.

It was many hours and yet more lives before the animal was stopped and, in this time, many who did not act in the interests of the Eskandr people were hard at work. Agents of Parrence laid their plans, gathered their resources, and prepared to strike on the morrow.

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The morning dawned cool and overcast, pale rays of sunlight occasionally peering through a mourning veil of clouds. All about the city, as it awakened, the sounds of axes, hammers, and men at work could be heard. The people of Meldheim had weathered far worse and they wasted no time in clearing the wreckage. Queen Astrid herself walked among them, contributing with her Gift and her words, allaying suspicions as to the beast’s origin and anger. The Eskandr would recover.

Yet, among them slept a peril. It, too, awakened with the sun. The battered old locks that guarded the Dampende River from overflowing its banks and occupying its former delta had been sabotaged. As a rising tide piled up against them, they creaked, shuddered, and gave way. Cellar floors began filling. Rivulets of water trickled down the streets. The river filled with shadowy silhouettes, not quite human, lurking in the shadows of the muddy banks and shoreline brush.

This singular sabotage, however, was not the only danger. While the strange mossy-haired girl who had loosed the havetskriger was nowhere to be seen, dozens of other Parrench infiltrators now stalked the capital’s streets and recently-freed hostages skulked about. Gradually, carefully, with a dark, nervous, giddy sort of anticipation, they took their appointed places and made themselves unremarkable.

It was an hour past noon when each of these people, whether they had been in place for minutes or days, felt a pinch behind both of their ears. Tutors soon to commence class in the Kongesalan, rugged brigands hanging about the port, or earnest pilgrims awaiting the wisdom of the gods in the Grontempel: it did not matter. Now was the moment. The temple, the palace, whatever they could of the city - this last one without the prior knowledge of their Quentic Eskandr allies: Echeran hungered for these things, and so they were to burn. The people and property they were to steal or steal back were to be snatched. Whatever suspicions they had engendered would not now matter.

Jacques, Maud, and Svend had already departed from Rigevand with a skeleton crew on each knarr. The ships lurked, presently, just around the headland outside the capital’s sheltered harbour. Soon, it was hoped, they would be filled to bursting. The rain, it was hoped, would hold off. Meldheim, it was hoped, would serve as a warning that if Parrence was to burn, Eskand would burn with it.

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Action Opportunities

The timeline was a bit tricky with this one, since we've had to reconcile two days' worth of actions. In any event, the moment has arrived: the attack on Meldheim begins now! See the action opportunities below for some ideas.

• Vali is free to cast further suspicion on the inhabitants of Rigevand and possibly follow up. He may use this time to investigate if he likes or remain close to his prince. He is also encouraged o join the fight against the havetskriger.
• Kol has been met by the Skygge to join in the fight. He has creative freedom to pull in Arne if he wishes and to play out the fight against the beast, possibly alongside his blood brother, Vali.
• Dietrich is welcome to have played out any neotiations or learnin he's done and offers he's made. So long as they're reasonable, they can be considered to have been accepted. He is free to join in the fight against the havetskriger and show the Eskandr what he's got. His suspicions about 'Ositha' should probably come to a head on the second day, when she will make her move. Maybe they end up tangling, maybe it's more of a pursuit, or maybe his attentions are drawn elsewhere by necessity.
• It's time for Osanna to act. She may want to coordinate some kind of signal with Asier. Perhaps she can start some of the fires while Asier starts others. In such a large structure, they will take a little while to become noticeable if started in an obscure enough area. More importantly, she should attempt to make off with her prize(s). Collabs with Dietrich and Asier or maybe just a few shorter posts per cycle might be a good idea.
• Asier has plenty to do. If he is working with Osanna, they should coordinate. He can also look to burn the Kongesalan, assist in her extraction if needed, and attempt to steal fruit and seeds from the Livetstræ (Tree of Life). Massive and ancient, it rises above the throne room through a hole in the roof. The throne itself is organically grown from the gnarled roots of the great tree. His other, secret potential allies are also preparing to strike from the river. This should probably actually start at the end of this cycle.
• Gerard gets to scream "burn, baby burn!" at the Grontempel. If he can assist the others, he is welcome to, but his main job is to send that heathen temple up in flames. He will have a detachment of Parrench infiltrators at his disposal. The others will be looking to spread throughout the city, steal, commit arson, and wreak havoc.
• As a target, let's say that this chapter should cover the period up to the start of the focused Eskandr response. Kol, Vali, and Dietrich, along with Arne, the Skygge, and possibly Astrid can respond, but please remember that they won't just teleport there, Parrench mooks are strong, numerous, and widespread, and they'll be caught between helping the city and fighting. Basically, this chapter ends right as potential PVP begins, with the possible exception of an Osanna and Dietrich encounter.
• Between footsoldiers and freed prisoners, the Parrench have about 110 people at their disposal. They also have Trygve if someone needs named NPC backup. Feel free to allocate these as you see fit. The eeaiko are coming right near the end of this chapter, if anyone=e wants to reference them in a post.

Happy Posting!

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Pre-Interest Check Ideas

秘
密
の
戦
争

H I M I T S U N O S E N S Ō
^{The Secret War}

𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅯

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A great many years ago, in a land known as Nikan, there was a shogun who grew old and fat. He had never fought a war. How the daimyo, how the samurai, how the shinobi gathered round like crows circling over a dying man. I would say that you should have seen them, but you would not have, for this was the secret war...

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A Legend of Sipenta

The Hourglass Order

Applications Open

Sorry for the borderline necropost, but I figured that I'd just put it out here: we're starting a new arc and a longtime player has had to bow out so, for the first time in a while, we have an open spot and I'd be thrilled to welcome any new players who are interested. You can check out our OOC and discord if you'd like to know more. They have a lot more up to date lore than this old thread.

O R I F L A M M E

Act Two: Scattered to the Winds____ __ _ _

Chapter Four: Mortal Men______ __ _ _

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Loves and Hatreds 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅯 𝅘𝅥𝅰

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The lives of mortal men are fickle things: they give the illusion of control, but that control is tenuous and situational at best. One finds himself adrift upon an ocean, subject to its vagaries and fickle currents and he must often leap or else drown, neither option appealing but a choice nonetheless necessary.

It was such a moment when the dragon appeared. The cleverly laid-out diversions and pitfalls of the Eskandr counted for nothing against such a force of nature. The enemy that the Parrench had prepared to face now appeared the lesser of two evils. Indeed, one of their greatest villains sacrificed near to the point of death in order to ward the beast off long enough that cooler heads might prevail. The stage had been set for an unlikely alliance against an existential threat, shared personhood bonding bitter enemies together in a struggle for survival.

The capacity for emotion is one of our greatest strengths as people: human and yasoi alike. It inspires and motivates us, brings us happiness, love, and even melancholy, for the last has its uses as well. Yet, for us to understand happiness, there must be anguish; for love, hatred; melancholy can so easily slip into despair, despondence, and terror. It was this second cohort of feeling that the people who stood upon the fields of fire chose.

Nearly two thousand Eskandr and Parrench spat in the face of assumed wisdom and, instead of turning their steel and magics upon the dragon that threatened them all, they warred with each other once more.

The heroes of one side and villains of another brushed aside gestures of goodwill and clashed in duel and open combat alike. Honour and decency fell by the wayside and the anger of one man burned white hot across the battlefield, laying low his enemies and willing his side ever closer to a victory that they had no business winning. The Parrench, however, were not so easily broken, and it appeared that the two sides might yet bleed each other to the last armoured man.

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Marquis Down

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Perceval was wretched. He had been stuck with arrows like a pincushion and only his armour had saved him. Still, the wounds smarted. His shoulder had given as he hit the ground too, and he would need a binder. “Binder!” he called out, staggering forward. “Marquis down! Fetch me a binder immediately!” He bit back a curse. It would not do to be unchivalrous. “How I have sacrificed for my queen and country,” he lamented, “how I have bled!” He had, and it hurt - by Echeran, it hurt, but there was advantage to be gained here and he could begin laying the groundwork. “And I would bleed yet more!” he roared, “I would give my very life for my country, but I have precious little to give like this. Binder!” he hollered, “I need a binder so that I might return to the fray and lay low these heathens! So that Echeran’s -”

He came upon Sir Maerec and the downed Eskandr woman. There were two more recovered prisoners. This, then, was a victory. “Good sir,” he remarked, grimacing as he came to a stop. He’d left the arrows in, partially to keep the wounds from gushing in earnest and partially because it made him look more heroic. They were not all that deep anyhow, or so he thought. He had never actually been shot with an arrow, after all. “You have done us a great service this day.” He glanced down at the woman who had shot him. “I am bloodied but still more than enough to watch an unconscious woman. Ride to the queen, I command you. Tell her of this victory, and call a binder here so that myself and these prisoners we have emancipated might be restored.” He glanced about the battlefield. He was unhorsed and it was far too exposed a position. There was far too high a likelihood of dying and Percy had no intentions of doing so. He still had yet to become king, after all. “Well, go on, man!” he prodded. Then, however, even as powerful magic rained down and his prisoner stirred, healing inexplicably fast, his eyes turned instinctively to the sky and deep, frigid chill raced through his bowels.

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Terror Descends

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Both factions were brought to a pause. Somehow, they knew it even before they could sense it: the feeling of the air itself seemed to change. The distant echoes from the pounding of massive wings rumbled in the distance. Soon came an unearthly howl that everyone present could feel in their bones and, suddenly, it didn't matter whether they were Parrench, or Drudgunzean, or Eskandr. It did not matter if they were human or yasoi. Not much of anything mattered, for the small foolish people busy burning, stabbing, and pounding each other to death in a cool, muddy field had squandered their chance to rise above their hatreds and become something more. Thus, in the end, they were all the same to the Tryrannus Gehenna: tiny, weak, and food.

The dragon was a great black leviathan: some two hundred feet from nose to tail, with wings at least the equal of its length. Its mouth yawned open and it belched fire into the periphery of the small, scrambling creatures below. Three hundred Parrench died near-instantly. The actions of Queen Eleanor and some of her most formidable knights saved at least a hundred more, but now the two sides were not so unequally matched and, in the chaos and panic, whatever prisoners they had captured found it easy to break free.

From the opposite side of the battle lines, Sweyn Thunderspear offered no aid to his enemies this time. Instead, he turned to some of his closest companions. “I see no reason to throw ourselves away saving enemy land and lives,” he spat. “I will not make that mistake and reap their ‘gratitude’ again. Honour be damned at this point. We ride for Chamonix,” he shouted. “We ride to join the king and we ride posthaste. If any of you has an objection, speak now or be silent.”

Action Opportunities

In the live fight that we played out over discord, the two sides proved unable to peaceably cooperate. Instead, honour was cast aside on multiple occasions, a duel to the (near) death was fought, a desperate hostage situation played out, and the Nashorn ran rampant. Now, as players, you will reap the consequences of your actions. Disorganized, divided, and weaker than before, you must contend with the enraged dragon, whether that means fighting together, apart, or running for your miserable lives. I will be holding combat dice rolls all week for the fight. If we can arrange a date and time, that would be ideal. This is definitely a good time to collaborate. Below are some ideas:

• Sweyn is going to lead the Eskandr forces away towards Chamonix and leave Parrence to burn and the Queen's army to either die by dragon or slay it. There is no tactical or strategic advantage to sticking around. As an Eskandr, state your piece if you have an objection, or you will be leaving with him. A clean escape is likely but not guaranteed. If you do not go with him, then you risk a permanent break with your side. This may be a good moment for Hildr or it may not.
• The dragon's power is awe-inspiring, but it is not without weaknesses. You must fight it for your own survival and that of a large swathe of your country. Think about how your magics can be used against it, how they can be used in combination, and how you may use the environment to your advantage. Consider the beast's potential weaknesses and how you might exploit them. Also, you need to regroup and come up with a defensive strategy to make its big, sweeping, straight-line fire attacks less effective.
• Ulfhild, healed by Sweyn, himself recently escaped, has broken free and raced back for the Eskandr lines. If you wish to try to recapture her, this is something that you must collaborate on. If necessary, we will roll. The prisoners that Maerec and Percy have freed were not among the many killed in the dragon's most recent attack, though they are now fleeing, panicking, and praying. The final group rescued during Ulfhild's desperate flight are those close to Camille.

Good luck!