Goldeagle1221

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

may one join this roleplay?

@Sovi3t

Yes, feel free to join the discord, and send me a sheet!

Staff changes

@POOHEAD189

Now take them out from the inside as planned.

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

Palace of the Lord Emperor, Urelynnde, Duchy of Kamwell, Lynnfaire

First Diet of the Unified Lynnfaire, under Her Royal Highness of Serenity, Queen Abigail “Daughter of Halwende” d’Montigue, Queen of all Lynnfaire, Duchess of all Kamwell, and heir of Halwende: King of Mortals and Liberator of Lynnde

The throne room of Urelynnde’s mighty palace was one to rival all others. Built by the primordials of Lynnde and location of the fight between Halwende and the Lord Emperor, it maintained the same impressiveness it held thousands of years ago. Stone blocks of enormous size constructed the incredibly large room. It was built to easily house the Lord Emperor, who by all accounts was a massive being, suitable to be lord of all other primordials.

The size of the chamber is emphasized by the fact that the sizable square indentation that sits in front of the Queen’s throne and serves as the court area for the diets was once the location of the Lord Emperor’s throne, whose fate is said to have been the stone that was carved into the large statue of Halwende in the center of the city.

As impressively large and well built the throne room was, its marvels didn’t end there. A strategically dome serves as the ceiling, and into its many vaults metal shudders serve as ventilation to allow in morning air and night time breezes, giving the entire room a sense of naturalness often lost in the stale air of old buildings.

While the walls themselves were well decorated with high built stain windows, tapestries depicting the heroes of Lynnfaire, portraits of king’s past, and statues of the best nobles of history, the floor was completely free of decoration or carpets. In the massive marble blocks that made up the floor, smaller white colored concrete filled obvious areas where major impacts dug deep into the marble, or even banished entire parts of it. These filled in scars are said to be from the very battle that fell the Lord Emperor, and are often seen as decor themselves.

In the square depression of the long gone throne sat the first meeting of all the elite Lynnfairish gentry under Queen Abigail save for a few counts. They sat in a half circle formation, comfortable chairs of plush wool and fine wood underneath. Abigail herself sat on a throne of plated gold, blue silk covering the cushions and a circular silver plated dias lifting it from the marble floor. Across her lap was the blade of Halwende, and on her head was the crown of Lynnfaire. It was intricately designed as if woven with metal laces of crisscrossing gold and silver, dotted and encrusted with many different sized sapphires, with the largest acting as the pupil of an all seeing eye.

The discussion thus far had been unemotional, straightforward and essential to the progression of the nation. Many new reforms were proposed by the Queen, and passed without question. Then slowly the meeting turned sour, as it went from the latest military reformations (including incentives for a standing professional army to be trained in perpetuity as well as the inclusion of Mist-talkers) to talks about the ramifications of the civil war.

Many nobles who supported William after his criminalization and refusal to accept the diet of Rownstetaine’s declaration of Abigail, were punished depending on the severity of their crime. Those tried with treason were stripped of their titles, those with high treason were executed. Luckily the number of bodies was relatively small, for as the headsman’s axe landed, unnervingly, the bodies of the traitors would turn to dust and float away in the wind.

The vacant lands and titles were divided up among the respective de jure lords, and lesser punishments were handed out on a case by case basis to minor nobles and gentry. When the topic turned to the Dynastic retainer of the Drouschester Dukedom, Sir Thompson, Duke Edgard found himself fidgeting uneasily in his chair.

The Duke stared down at his shoes as the diet explained the condition his scouts had found the body, mangled and oddly hairless. Some raised doubts it was him, despite finding his blade on scene. Even those who hated the knight were apt to announce that no mere wolf could take such a man down, and claimed Thompson must have killed and mutilated a peasant to stage the scene, but Edgard felt he knew what really happened.

“Ambushed,” Edgard growled as the diet turned to him.

“It was those bastard Vitiums, I know it.”

The room murmured as he continued, “they came to me, smug smiles on their inhuman faces and told me they found him, wounded. They humiliated the gentry with mocking tones, and left, probably to have their final fun with the man.”

He looked up, his eyes stained red with anger, his face plum, “they are little more than animals.”

“That’s quite the accusation,” The Duchess of Rylea answered.

“Is it?” Edgard gave her a sideways glance, “they dared to aid a-”

He took in a deep breath, “a traitor. They are not from the land of the civilized, and now they mock us by bringing their cruelty to our doorstep.”

“Sir Thompson was a traitor,” one white haired noble spoke up. Edgard shot the man a daring look.

“He was simply following his oath, he may have not even enjoyed or agreed with my father,” Edgard hissed, “but even if he was, he deserved more than this.”

“I agree with the young Duke,” a count spoke up, “and in regards to the perverted ways of the north, we only know what damage was done in the way of mutilation, Serene One save us all should they have done worse to the body.”

“This cannot go unanswered,” Edgard gritted his teeth, “they all must pay the price for their sins.”

“Hear hear!” A notable Imperialist dressed in the ways of the Grynyn agreed.

Murmurs filled the room once more, but all suddenly went silent as Abigail raised a hand, “there will be an investigation.”

Edgard stood up, causing everyone else to stand up, “My Queen, we already know!”

“Do we?” Abigail folded her hands, “I am as much disturbed by the findings as anyone in this room, Duke Edgard, but I will have my wits about me as should you. We will look into the markings of the body and determine the cause, should it be foul play we will move accordingly.”

“It must be foul play,” the Imperialist from earlier announced, “why would the Serene One allow it to remain unchanged to dust if not to let us know the truth.”

“Exactly!” Edgard shouted.

“Poise and respect,” The new Duke of Jannerton scowled, his round young face bearing twinkling brown eyes and a stiff upper lip, “this is the Queen.”

Edgard dipped his head in apology, but anger clearly still burned in his eyes and reddened his face.

“I am in favor of our Queens decision,” The Duchess of Rylea nodded her head.

“As I,” answered the majority. Edgard gritted his teeth, “and should it be foul play, should it be the Vitiums, what then? What punishment?”

“Duke Edgard,” Abigail raised a brow, her tone calming.

“The perverts, the murderers, the lowly scum” Edgard snipped, “they mock us, they walk free, and they mock us.”

“Duke-” Abigail began to stand up.

Edgard stared angrily at the Queen, who looked back with the virtue of patience.

Edgard sucked in a large breath and bowed his head, “Mercy, my Queen, but may I declare one last obscenity.”

“I recognize your anguish, I’m sure we all do,” Abigail said softly, “declare.”

Edgard looked up at the Queen, a blazing eye looking into hers, “should it be foul play.”

He looked at the others, “should it be the Calids.”

He looked at the Duchess of Rylea, “Should they be responsible for the death of the greatest knight.”

He looked back at the Queen, “then by my blood I swear I will kill every last one of them.” The Duke took a tiny knife from his right pocket and slit his hand. As the blood oozed out her made a fist, and threw the blood on the marble floor, “I will kill them.” he growled.

“I will kill them all,” his eyes began to water and he gnashed his teeth with an angry growl before turning, marching out of the half circle, and away from the diet towards the door. As he left the Count of Rownstetaine spoke up, “Little Dragon.”

“Truly his father’s son,” Abigail answered. She looked at the remaining nobles and sat back down, the others following suit.

“Onto other matters,” Abigail began, nodding to her right.

“Several Mist talkers have been found dead and some even decomposed in my cities,” The Duchess of Rylea began, “I call for attention.”

“You have mine,” The Duke of Jannerton answered, “I have suffered the same murders.”

The Queen nodded, “should resources be needed, you have the treasury.”

“I bid thanks, My Queen,” The Duke answered.

“As do I,” The Duchess spoke up.

“I have something to report and garner attention as well,” Duke Stephen of Upper Kamwell suddenly spoke. The man was greyed, his face weathered by salt, and his fingers coarse and rough, contrasting his bright red velvet clothes.

“Not to take away from the tragedies of the South, but I bear contrasting news,” Stephen continued, his old voice slow and almost rambling, causing the younger nobles to lean forward in anticipation.
“By the grace of Halwende…” Stephen began, almost striking a pose, “a great viel has been lifted, by the orders of the Serene One… at the whim of our glorious monarchy…”

Eyes blunk.

“In the ancient ruins of the bogs of Upper Kamwell, where Lynnde structure crumbles, and where evil once lurked…”

There was a long sigh, summoning a sharp glare from Stephen, “The piece of paradise has been found.” He grumbled, quickening his pace. There was an audible gasp as everyone leaned back in their seats, eyes puzzled.

“At long last…”

“I will go to it at once,” Abigail spoke up, eyes gathering on her, grins appearing on the oldest of the nobility, looks of shock on the younger.

“It would appear, Lynnfaire has her true monarch indeed,” Stephen nodded with a content smirk.

Things to Know

The piece of paradise’s location has been found in an extensive ruin and is under heavy guard while the Lynnfairish authorities await the Queen to retrieve it from its chamber.

Not shown: The Refugees of Utyre have been addressed and are being funneled further south to aid in farming communities and to spread out into Osetina, excess is being sent west. Non-invasive research on the statues in Upper Kamwell has begun

World Announcement

The Location of the Ruins that hold the Piece of Paradise has been revealed in Upper Kamwell. The orb itself lies with in dangerous underground ruins, and is proven to be the resting place after the discovery of ancient Lynnde writing in the style of Halwende himself denoting it as much. Wizards report immense and blinding amounts of magic being detected deep within the ruins.

----

Urelynnde’s Central Knight Garrison Barracks, West Wing

Senthin plunged his face into the water basin, flinging his soaking blonde hair backwards as he resurfaced. The water splattered on the hewn granite floors of the barracks floor. Acel shook his head, sitting in his night clothes on his bunk. The two knights were given the option of a suite in the palace for their bravery and key part in the last battle of the war, but decided they would rather stick with the arrangements they were used to, lest they end up spoiled.

The room was large, enough to house half of the central guards, but was cut into segments by woolen curtain’s, leaving each segment with only ten beds, ten trunks, two water basins, and numerous shelves. Not being apart of the garrison proper, the two knights were given temporary stay with a few other men, most guards and officers of the watch, with one or two also being a visiting soldier, awaiting re-station or to be sent home.

“I don’t know why exactly we turned down the big rooms all to ourselves,” Senthin said as he reached around for a towel, his eyes closed and water dripping from his chin. Acel tossed him one that was sitting on the bunk.

“Don’t want to get used to the high life,” Acel leaned back on some unusually plump pillows, courtesy of her majesty.

“And why not? You heard what the Queen said,” Senthin dried his hair rigorously, tossing the damp towel into the corner haphazardly. The knight turned to Acel and grinned, “we may have a new job by the weeks end.”

“Royal bodyguard doesn’t really seem our style if you ask me,” Acel folded his arms, “never was one for politics and staying in the same place for too long.”

“No, no, think about...,” Senthin wagged a finger and leaned against the wall. Acel scratched his short brown hair and looked up, “think about wh-”

“It,” Senthin finished abruptly, “she isn’t really a sessile Queen, we can still adventure, but in luxury.”

“You say that, but we’ve only known her in war, not in peace,” Acel countered, sitting up, “besides, what luxury? Soft chairs for our asses while we get schooled on politics?”

“The softest,” Senthin beamed, “and who knows, maybe she will send us on some quests.”

“This really is just one big fantasy story book to you isn’t it?” Acel shook his head na smiled, “knights, Queens, quests?”

“Better than focusing on politics, politeness, and poverty,” Senthin raised his eyebrows.

“Praise be, brother,” An officer chimed in, he was a burly and extremely muscular man shaving a large black beard standing by a metal trimmed mirror, “damn everything outside our borders, that’s what I say. Got a whole damn world and not a speck of civilization outside our good silver ring.”

“That’s a bit brutal,” Acel snickered, “what do you know about the rest of the world?”

“Enough to want to stay here,” the Officer raised a single eyebrow as he pressed his razor against his cheek.

“Tarkima,” Senthin challenged.

“I’ll be a frozen boil on a yeti’s ass in a month,” The officer retorted, raising his chin, “besides, do you know what they even eat up there?”

Acel shook his head, “no.”

“Me either, but I prefer it that way.”

A few guards chuckled from their beds.

“Alright, fine,” Senthin thought for a moment, “ Lynn-Naraksh.”

The officer laughed and went back to shaving.

“Alright you got me there,” Senthin rubbed his chin, “Vlaanburg.”

“Cousin’s from there, port town, says it’s nice,” the officer flicked the razor in the basin, “doesn’t really count though, nor Osetina for that matter. All apart of the big blue, if you know what I mean.”

“He has a point,” Acel poked at Senthin.

“Fine, Olira,” Senthin crossed his arms.

The officer opened his mouth then closed it, “maybe.”

“A-ha!” Senthin pointed victoriously at the officer and then Acel.

Acel put up his palms in defeat, “point is, politics everywhere.”

“And so long as people are out there thinkin’ they are above the law of order,” The officer chimed in once more, “always will be.”

He turned to the two knights, “there is a reason we were charged by up above to keep the order and not mess with the ways things oughta be. You take a peek outside the golden glory of our Serene given order and you’ll see an army of buffoons, lead by the top fools who argue their position through bogus means and trampled philosophies that anyone with a half mind and a finger in the pudding of logic would see right through.”

“Pudding you say?” Senthin cocked a brow.

“Aye, sweet and filling, and when you eat it all you have no room more for bullshit, just like common sense,” the officer scoffed.

“Example,” Acel challenged.

“Take two steps out of Lynnfaire, four steps out of Vlaanburg and you fall face first in the worst political argument I ever heard,” The officer turned to the knights, leaning on the basin with a single hand.

The other guards were looking at him now as he continued, “ever hear a Matathran tell you about the wit of force? It’s bunk, and more importantly, it is a crippling way to look at the world.”

“What do you mean?” Senthin stood up.

“If I knock you in the jaw for disagreeing with me, even if you’re right,” the officer began, “that doesn’t make me correct, that just makes me the last asshole standing. If every weak jerk follows me after that, I could lead them through the gates of self destruction on the sole authority that my fist is bigger. It requires no brains, no actual thinking. When it comes to force, there is no wit, only fools.”

Before anyone could answer the officer continued, “Aye, I’m not saying there is no use for force, because there is plenty, but you can’t base your existence off of it, you need more. A bandit overpowers a rich man and becomes a rich bandit, still a bandit. A dog outruns a rabbit and mauls it, still an animal. A moron kills another, still a moron. Anyone can do it.”

He held up a finger, “but the shame isn’t in the one who does it as much as those who kiss the almighty ass of the one who does. You start respecting such an impulsive and uncalculating chaos, and you’ll soon find yourself so blind by your own hubris, you’ll find that you never had what you truly needed to exist in this Serene barren world.”

“I think I’m starting to see why you got into the line of work you did,” Senthin quipped.

The officer smiled wide and put a leg up on his bunk, leaning forward, “ aye, and it gives me no greater pleasure than proving cock-brained criminals who are trying to use their make believe wit of force as an excuse for being so damn wrong. It isn’t a lie, the strongest will lead, but boys, the clever one will live. Don’t be a sheep, and more importantly, if my late Father’s chickens can devise a pecking order with a striking resemblance to a political philosophy, maybe think twice before commiting your soul.”

He turned back to the basin, patting off the remaining dampness and residual hairs with a rough cloth, revealing a thick black mustache “and remember, no amount of knocking another person’s lights out will actually make you any less of a blue be forgotten moron.”

Acel turned to Senthin, “I like this guy.”

“Name’s Andras,” The mustachioed officer answered.

“Grynyn?” Senthin asked

“That’s why I called you Brother, isn’t it?” Andras nodded at the ‘Green Swordsman’.

“Of course, Brother,” Senthin gave the officer a nod.

---- ---- ----4---- ---- ----

Apology

Sorry for the first half of this post, couldn't find a groove but needed to get this out

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

Cultural Ticks of the Late Utyre Empire:

The People of Utyre were very homologous due to their impressive provincial structure and governance. With the culling of 300 years ago and a long history of unity, the culture was very strong and with only minor regional variance.

Their diets consisted of heavy lunches, often found with heavy amounts of vegetables supplimented with meats and sometimes beans. Breakfast was an unceremonious affair consisting of the previous nights left overs should it be imperishable, and milk from the stead if they were farmers. Flatbreads were a common sight on the plate and in the hand, and was served with every meal, and sometimes sold on the street in the busier cities, often stuffed with slow roasted lamb, yogurts, and long lasting vegetables.

The people of Utyre dressed according to their standing in life as is usual of civilizations with a wide social economic girth. Working men and women alike favored breeches and other short, yet tight pants for ease, and billowy shirts to aid in field work in the summer time, and fur stuffed garments in the winter. Shoes were often raw hide and made to go past the ankle, especially in the provinces with much more varied climates. Socks were almost always reserved for the better off (excpt in the north) and spun of wool and plant fibers. They are often dyed red to showcase wealth.

The richer individuals wore less accomodating clothes such as long sleeved shirts, wide cuffs, and ankle lenth dresses and skirts. Heavily decorated vests are common with both men and women, and gold lined lacing was a popular trend of showcasing wealth.

The people themselves were outspoke, opinionated, and overall encouraged to debate and voice their opinions and concerns, with the exception of a polite skirting around religion. The people favored games of wit and cleverness, as well as enjoyed hard hitting sports and trained athletes. They were fond of their military and such sought to emulate the prowess in peacetime through local games and sporting tournaments. Hunting was a popular past time for the rich and poaching was for the poor.

In all they maintain a robust, showy culture of colors, sports, materialism, food, and debates. Their only exception to their explosive, public and outspoken culture is their personal worship. Due to the strong state control of the Argentist religion, most practices are done in the home by heavily decorated personal altars to the Prophetess, and the only outspoken words allowed are that of either complete praise to the faith or damnation to those who forfeit or don't meet the requirements of the state funded faith. But even in solitude their heavily social ways are seen in the often shadow war between neighbors to have the better and more impressive altar, or recognition for being the most faithful.

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

Eastern Utyre

The whine of morning insects droned from far outside the window. With young blue eyes a servant boy stood by a giant golden pillar, his feet dressed in suede and standing on marble blocks. He looked on in complete shock, the hands of one of the King’s handmaids reassuring him with a tap on the shoulder as he watched the king converse with a being that the child couldn’t say was of this world.

The king had been called at the behest of the stranger before him, and by the reports of devastating war not far from where they were now. Even now the king argued with a frustrated tone as the being seemed to try and calm him.

The stranger stood tall, and even though the King sat on a mighty throne, the steps bringing him to tower over most visitors, the armor clad visitor stood eye level, bringing him to at least seven feet in height. The visitor was completely encased in darkened metal, with strange designs swirling across its surface, and two blood red eyes peering out from the visor. A massive blade much bigger than even the child was strapped to the being’s back, and its edge was forged in the style of flamberg, though the body held the appearance of some legendary greatsword.

Despite this dark and brooding figure, it was its companions that scared the child the most, and even just looking at them brought pressure behind his eyes and a chilling headache to his skull. Two beings floated on either side of the stranger, their bodies long gone. They hovered as softly glowing ghosts, banshees, spectres even of what once could have been prominent and famous warrior women, valkyries of the past. But now they floated, ethereal, transparent, and cold.

In front of either of these two spectres were their corporeal brothers, two impressive-looking swordsman, if not for their clearly rotted and aged skin and dead eyes. Their armor was polished and almost regal, and a single silver band ringed their helmets’ crown.

The king was yelling now, but the boy didn’t understand the words, be it the fear in his head or his youthful naivety. The dark stranger hissed and began to gesture wildly, as if trying aggravatedly to persuade the king, when, all of a sudden, the palace shook.

The handmaid’s hands gripped the boy’s shoulders as the palace shook again. Great flashes from outside disrupted his vision and explosive booms rendered his hearing into a dull ringing. The dark stranger swirled to look out the window then maliciously turned back to the king. The handmaiden grabbed the boy’s arm and began to run. The last thing the servant boy saw as he was sent sprinting from the room was a cloud of dust poof from the throne as the stranger brought his mighty sword down upon it. Fear sickened his stomach and he nearly lost his footing. He swore he could hear the piercing scream of the ethereal women surmounting the ear-deafening blasts from outside as he escaped.

He was pushed into the hall by the woman and the two continued to run. The halls shook uncontrollably as decorations fell from the walls and statues began to crack. The wall blasted open, sending the pair flying. Sunlight illuminated the hall and a crystalline face of alien features peeked in, light pulsing around it. The handmaiden screamed, but all the boy felt was the vibrations of her voice, his ears already assaulted with pain from all the noise.

She pushed him and he scurried away from the debris, continuing down the hall. His feet took him far, and he could feel the building collapsing behind him as he ran. His heart was pounding in his throat as he turned the corner and exited through a hole blasted into the building’s wall.

He went numb as he spilled out into the expansive clearing where the city once stood. Buildings were grinded to the foundations and people were running like discovered mice. Great spheres of fire were raining from the blood red sky, shaking the ground with explosive impacts, and sending sun-blocking debris into the air. Strange alien beings of yellow crystal were zipping across the landscape, their arms, or what could only be described as such, morphing strangely into crystal swords and axes, meeting overwhelmed human guards and soldiers, whose bodies eerily turned into smoke upon death. Other strange crystal beasts, even bigger than their already tall yellow brothers, of four legs, thin batlike wings and a red hue lumbered beside their kin, spewing streams of fire from their open jagged maws.

A group of palace guards crowded one of these beings deflecting the fire off their shields, when another being glided over. It looked like nothing the boy could describe, except a living inverted geode of many unknown appendages. It let loose a great vibrating hum, and then with a large flash, a beam of energy erupted from its center, blasting the guards into clouds of smoke and gouging the ground where they stood.

One of the more humanlike crystal beings approached the boy. Light pulsed from a flat sheen of crystal where a face should have been. It stopped a few feet from the boy, as he stood frozen in fear. Slowly it extended its arm, a human hand formed of crystal appearing at its end.

As it reached down, the boy’s hearing started to return. He could hear the humming of the creature, the blasts in the distance, the screams of men and women, and -- stone grinding. All of a sudden, a knight of pure stone, riding a destrier of white granite, pounded by, its mighty sword slicing the crystalline being in half. The body shattered like thick glass and spilled a honey-like fluid all over the ground. More and more of these stone warriors appeared, battling the crystalline figures. Dark metal-clad beings similar to the stranger were with them.

The palace guards were overwhelmed, the stone soldiers killing them as well as the strange crystal men. The human guards crumbled to dust under the weapons of the stone knights, and as their metal clad chaperones came onto the scene, a new stone soldier would erupt from the ground and give chase to the crystal men.

Flashes blasted, and the energy from the strangest of the crystal beasts beamed forth. The ray cut through the palace guards, turning them to poofs of smoke, but the stone warriors behind held up their shields, some stabbing the guards in the back and replacing them.

Their stony shields hissed as smoke burned off of them, but they continued their owners’ charge forward. Just as a group of crystal men came to meet the stone warriors with shimmering weapons of their own, a hand yanked the boy away from the scene. He smelt the pungent odor of wet soil and looked up to see the dark brooding stranger from the palace.

The stranger was looking onward into the distance. The boy slowly followed his vision, and then went cold as he found its goal. In the distance, towering above the horizon, a mighty shadow stood, challenging a mountain in height and width. It lumbered, many tens of miles away, yet visible, the very sight causing the boy to stumble forward with some strange vertigo. It had many legs whose circumference one could only guess, and a body large and without features. The very size of it might have been that of the city they now stood in, and in the distance, small speckles seemed to be raining from it’s underbelly, their true nature too far away to detail.

The boy turned back to the stranger. Behind them, the strange metal clad knights were engaged in melee with the crystal soldiers and their bizarre weapons.

“Do as I say,” the strangers voice sounded like a hammer on hot metal, “and you will be spared.”

The boy looked forward, a brilliant cloud of heavenly light rolling in from the distance.

“Today a thousand angels fall,” The stranger muttered, gripping his sword, a fluttering of wings coming from the distance. The child looked behind himself and the stranger, finding himself standing in front of a massive army of the metal clad men, their tattered capes fluttering, their massive weapons in hand. Their ranks were mottled with more banshees and enhanced with the stone soldiers.

The rasp of metal rending sounded, and metallic wings sprouted from the stranger’s armor, catching the child’s attention. Distant fluttering recaptured it and he looked forward again, his eyes shutting in fear as figures in the sky came into view.

Hider

Utyre has fallen into an otherworldly warzone. Floods of fugitives spill across the borders into Tarkima, Matathran and Lynnfaire, mostly consisting of children and mothers. Pockets of resistance still mottle Utyre, the remnants of their army and government resisting the fluvian conquest.

----

----

Monkeypants has decided to step out of the roleplay as of right now. This post is not influenced by that and has been planned for quite some time before hand. Monkey is not only leaving on good terms, but I would personally like to commend him for all the work he has put into this roleplay. Please thank him, for his efforts allowed the continuation of this writing project.

@Monkeypants See you next time.

**Also a side commendation for Oraculum and helping me edit this and his(?) endless advice.

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

World Events

Summer has arrived. The People are preparing for the following harvest season.

---

The word of the angel of Ardir has slowly slipped from Tarkima and to the rest of the world, as have the words of the Gjornenahabblestrjiikn. Tales of the statues in Lynn-Naraksh have seeped to every corner of the world, and just in time for a sudden discovery.

In the nations of the Emerald Empire, Tarkima, Osetina, Vlaanburg, Freishaann, Olira, Morkt, and Lynnfaire, armies of the statues frozen in stone have been revealed, much like those of Lynn-naraksh. They have appeared in remote and unexpected places, by the native bedrock of each nation, or in the case of the Morkt, the deepest ocean caves.

Those of the underwater nation of the Morkt are slightly different, as they are made of a lighter, porous stone and fitted with tentacles instead of feet, not unlike the Morkt themselves.

Area's near these armies have become spots where the dead crumble to dust, the reach slowly spreading with each death. Some already have faces, their legions filled with complete statues in places of heavy death, such as the Emerald Empire, and Lynnfaire.. and yet the there are still more statues to fill.

Nevermind (Delete this please)

@Goldeagle1221

Aw man, I had no power since Wednesday; I didn't get to see what this was.

@Aristo

Me either

Word association Game!

lightning

Nevermind (Delete this please)

Interested.

@Aristo