Romero

The Blackwood

Cillian let the flow of the city take him, the bustle of the crowd guiding his feet along the rain-slick cobbles until he found himself standing before a tavern. Or at least a building that bore a striking resemblance to a tavern. They were close to the river here, and the roar of it was clear, even above the hubbub of the city all around them. The bridge which lent Greybridge it's name was close, and across it, the Blackwood itself, but now that he was standing in front of a tavern, he could understand Sylvaine's suggestion. Despite the pangs from his stomach, growing stronger as they had drawn closer to this 'Iron Star', Cillian had still kept a curious eye on the men and women that brushed past them. Stepping through the gates had been akin to stepping between ethereal realms, and Cillian had almost forgotten the contrast that existed between those that carved out a life within a cities towering walls, and those that struggled beyond them. It had been rags that had clothed the refugees that had joined them on the road, but on the city streets it was well-tailored cloaks and fashionable corsets. Against the well-dressed women of Greybridge, Sylvaine de Vermeille stuck out like a sore thumb, her weathered leather and wool clothing a world away from the satin dresses, but Cillian was all too aware that she was not the only one who looked out of place. Cillian's mail armour was finely crafted, and in all his travels he had found few blacksmiths that could match his father's skill, but in this city, he felt like a relic from a bygone era. Behind these walls, people could forget the hardships of the world, and apart from the handful of hired thugs that followed around the more affluent men and women that passed the unusual pair, casting wary glances in their direction, the people of Greybridge looked soft. Sylvaine taking the lead and stepping into the tavern itself brought Cillian back to reality, and he followed after his travelling companion,

The noise of merriment spilled out through the tavern's doors before Cillian even reached them, and as he stepped through, he saw that Sylvaine had paused for a moment, apparently to soak in the atmosphere. Cillian took the oppurtunity to glance around the surprisingly well-lit tavern itself, and found that the men and women that had found their way here at this time of the day were similar to the ones that walked the streets outside, with a few notable exceptions. The elven maiden and the gnome were an even stranger pair that Cillian and Sylvaine, while the well-dressed man and his scantily dressed companion were a more conventional sight for a tavern such as this. The robed men, speaking softly over their drinks, looked like the type that Cillian seemed to encounter whenever he strayed too far into civilisation, and while he tended to enjoy their stories for a while, he always found them... unimaginative before too long. Sylvaine was clearly happy with what she saw, smiling warmly towards Cillian, and the man from the Caelic Isles smiled in return.

"A nice place."

Before they could talk more, Cillian heard the door open behind them again, and he stepped to one side as a towering woman stepped past him and into the tavern. She was clearly a warrior, and as she was beckoned over by the elf and the gnome, Cillian couldn't help but raise his eyebrow slightly. The unusual paring just grew even stranger, and the warmth that they greeted each other with certainly suggested that they were more than mere acquaintances. Cillian could feel that all too familiar scratching of curiosity at the back of his mind, but he ignored it for now. They were here for a drink, and for now, it was a drink that they would have. Almost as if she had been reading his mind, Sylvaine was quick to suggest the very same thing, and he didn't miss the theatrical wink that accompanied her offer to pay. Before he could respond, she was gone, moving towards the bar counter near the back of the tavern, and a patron of the 'Iron Star' that Cillian hadn't even noticed at first. The dwarf was dishevelled, cradling a drink that certainly wasn't his first as he sat alone at the bar, and there was something haunting about someone so clearly down on their luck. With no better idea, Cillian decided to follow Sylvaine's advice, and he made his way over to one of the empty tables, making sure he chose a seat that gave him a good view of the tavern, and of the door through which they had entered.

Perhaps he had simply been on the road for longer than he had realised, but Cillian was surprised by how good it felt to finally sit down, stretching his legs out as he sighed. While he waited for Sylvaine to return, he glanced around the tavern again, passing the time by watching the others that had been drawn here by the promise of copious drinks, hot food and hopefully good company. He had seen countless taverns in his years wandering, and if nothing else, they were normally good for a few coins in exchange for a song or a story. The dwarf at the tavern had the look of someone that was sinking, and didn't want to be saved, although he saw that Sylvaine was attempting to strike up a conversation regardless, but he didn't look like someone who would appreciate a song. The robed men were more interested in whatever hushed conversation they were already having, and the provocatively dressed women was clearly part-way through a grand tale of her own. The unusual trio still intrigued Cillian, but they also seemed to be content talking among themselves. Thankfully there were plenty of other people within the tavern, and judging by some of the fine clothing he could see as he glanced around, he was confident that he could make some coin, if he needed to. The rich were always the most foolish with their money after all. Yet before he could think too much about it, Cillian felt another sharp pang from his stomach, and he decided that it could wait until after he had had something to eat. Truth be told, everything could wait until he had had something to eat!

The Blackwood

It's a good thing we're using d8, because I rolled a d6 first and that Nat 1 definitely want going to get Cillian a drink!

The Blackwood

The practised theatrics of Sylvaine de Vermeille were impressive, and would not have looked out of place on a theatre stage, but it quickly became clear that beneath the grey skies, with the howling wind all around, the woman did not have a willing audience. The crowd of peasants and refugees were a bleak group, and their numbers had swelled as Cillian and Sylvaine had travelled through Flontane Forest, joining the steady trudge that travellers knew all too well, driven forward by a dozen different causes, but all with the same goal. For whatever reason, it was to Greybridge that this crowd was drawn, and Sylvaine's theatrics were now standing between the crowd and their goal, and that is always a dangerous place to be. Cillian's head turned at the first cry, trying to make out the crier in the mass of drab clothing, but as more voices joined the first, it quickly became clear that he was woefully outnumbered. Someone knocked against Cillian's shoulder from behind, but Cillian did not stagger, his feet already squared in the black mud, and by the time he turned to look back at the crowd, he was met with blank faces and wary glances. Not wanting to risk the situation turning any more ugly, Cillian took another step away from the crowd, and turned back to the plumed hat in time to hear him hiss at Sylvaine, clearly also wary of the crowd trying to take matters into their own hands. Deciding to seize the initiative, rather than risk Sylvaine attempting to negotiate even further, Cillian quickly closed the gap, reaching into his coin purse with his most charming smile, and pressing ten Lordlings into the plumed hat's hand.

"Thank you, friend."

As the unusual travelling companions were ushered through the gates, Cillian allowed himself a smile as he stepped into the city. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, he let the noise of it swell around him, and he could swear that he could hear the city's heart beating beneath the hubbub, a steady rhythm beneath the chaotic noise. Sensing that Sylvaine had joined him again, Cillian opened his eyes and turned to look at the woman as he stepped further into the city.

"That was a good story. A shame that your audience did not seem to appreciate it."

In truth, Cillian was only half-listening to his companion's reply, the tether doing what it could to tie him to reality, but he was entranced the the city around him. Cillian's own hometown may have seemed like a hovel compared to the scale in which he now stood, but he was far from a naive farm-boy. He had walked along the streets of the grand cities of Andred and Vrettonia but there was something about the dark buildings that loomed all around him, the grotesque gargoyles that seemed to leer from every rooftop like monsters lurking in the shadows, that was beautiful to Cillian's eyes. The throng of men, women and children that filled the streets seemed to wash over the pair like waves, but they seemed to part around them, although whether that was from a wariness of the armoured, pale-haired man and the wiry, midnight-haired woman that had just stepped through the gates, or simply the natural flow of the city, Cillian did not know. Feeling the gentle tug of the tether calling for his attention, Cillian glanced across at Sylvaine as his mind raced to catch up with what she had just said. Finally back to the present, Cillian found himself laughing at her words. It seems that her theatrics were not too far-fetched, but that it had been against the city that her father had fought, not for it.

"It is perhaps wise then that you were not rewarded too greatly!"

From what time he had spent with the Vrettonian, he was hardly surprised when her next suggestion was calling for a drink, but it still caused Cillian to frown slightly. A quick glance upwards, hunting for the sky through the looming buildings that rose all around them, and Cillian could see that despite the grey clouds, it was still daylight that struggled to reach the streets below. The longhouses of his homeland were no stranger to mead and ale, but from what Cillian had seen, anything that Sylvaine did, she did to excess, and if they did find their way into a tavern, he doubted he would be able to get much discussion of their onward journey done until at least the next day. He considered his next step for a moment, before tentatively attempting to steer Sylvaine elsewhere...

"It is perhaps a little early to..."

The darkly clad woman waved away Cillian's concerns as she cut him off, and Cillian decided that some fights were not worth fighting. Despite her unassuming frame, Sylvaine had a heart of a wildcat, and besides, it was an increasingly difficult proposition to argue against. They had been on the road for days, and a proper drink would certainly not go amiss. Besides, where there was drink, there tended to be food, and Cillian's stomach growled at the mere thought of it. Resigning himself to the idea, Cillian looked around their immediate area, searching the market and the surrounding houses for sign of a tavern, or at least someone who might be able to point them in the right direction.

Save Water, Drink Beer

Search for a tavern (Perception) = 6 + 1 = 7

The Blackwood

We had a good run, but Gekir'vash'ni'k'kashnik'ash has already arrived to make appetisers out of our souls!

The Blackwood

The air smelt like earth, the scent of it filling Cillian's nose and causing a smile to dance across his face. The smell of rain always reminded Cillian of his home, and those memories warmed him, despite the chill that still clung in the air. His village had been simple, a handful of longhouses clinging to a windswept island, lashed by storms and buffeted by the wild waters of the Shrouded Sea, but sitting by the hearth, with a fire roaring, you could forget all about the outside world, aside from the sound of rain on the thatched roof. It had been there, huddled around the fire, that Cillian had first heard his mother's stories, and even now, years later, Cillian could still remember the feeling of the flame being lit in his very core, and he could still remember every word of the story. It had been the tale of the fey queen, whose haunting wailing was a harbinger of death to all who heard it. With the flickering fire casting dancing shadows across the earthen walls, the tale had terrified the other children, but it had gripped Cillian. As soon as dawn had broken the next day, he had rushed, and covered every inch of the island, searching for the fey queen. He could have sworn he heard her wailing in the howling of the wind, caught sight of her blood red hair moving through the heather, but she kept slipping through his fingers. He only abandoned his search when his mother found him, shivering from the cold, and brought him inside, soothing him with more fantastical legends.

A lifetime of practice had left Cillian's feet able to act almost on their own, continuing their steady march along a path or trail while Cillian's mind was far away, but no matter how distant Cillian's thoughts strayed from the reality of the present, there was always a steady, albeit tenuous, tether. And that tether tugged as the road began to grow busier. Perhaps calling it a road was giving the winding path through the Flontane Forest too much credit, and as Cillian glanced downwards, he saw that black mud clung to his boots with every step forward, thick tendrils seeming to fight his very progress. Seemingly as an after-thought, Cillian looked around him until he saw the slight, wiry figure of his companion, standing out from the crowd of bedraggled refugees by her jet black hair as much as by the sword he had never seen her without. Cillian had spent years around an ever-changing cast of people, but there was still something about the woman that intrigued him. He had mistaken her for little more than a girl when he had first glimpsed her on the road, but that was before he had noticed the scars, and seen that the sword on her hip was more than just part of her attire. The days merged into one on the road, so he could not say for sure how long ago they had started travelling together, but in that time, he still did not fully understand her, and that was what intrigued him so keenly.

Sylvaine de Vermeille. Even the name rolled off his tongue with a sort of fantasy to it, conjuring up the image of some dashing heroine, and yet Cillian had quickly come to realise that heroine was not a word that he would use to describe his unusual travelling companion. She oozed with charm, but the smiles that flashed across her face was like that of a predator, toying with it's prey, and despite the time they had spent travelling together, Cillian had always half-expected her to cut his throat and dissapear into the night. Thankfully, his expectations were yet to be fulfilled. The tether tugged Cillian towards reality a second time, with an undeniable air or impatience, and he turned in time to see the forest falling away, and the bulk of Greybridge rising before him.

If Cillian needed any reminder of how far he was from home, Greybridge served as a perfect one. He had heard tales of the city during his travels, but it was still a haunting sight. All dark stone, it seemed to crouch over the raging river Heathric like some vast mythical creature, and for good or for bad, it was towards this creature that the crowd around Cillian was drawn towards. For himself, and from what he could, for Sylvaine as well, it was not the city that called him, but what lay beyond the city. The river Heathric was fierce, Greybridge standing as the only crossing point for days travel in either direction, but across it's waters was the sprawling darkness of the accursed Blackwood. It had been from his mother that Cillian had first heard the tales of the shadowy depths, the nightmares that shifted through the trees, and now that he was this close, he could swear that he could hear it calling out to him, like a siren's song. He barely registered the halberdiers that stepped out through the gateway, even as the crowd around him drew back, but he was still tethered enough to hear the plumed hat demanding a toll for passage into the city.

Cillian knew that he had coin enough to pay for both his and Sylvaine's passage, but as he looked across to find her in the crowd again, he saw that she was already watching him, and he knew that it was not going to be so simple. If he had learnt one thing from his time with the woman, it's that it never was. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow towards him as he met her gaze, but for now he didn't speak. To talk too loudly could risk the pair playing their cards too openly, but to talk too softly would see the words snatched away by the wailing wind. Cillian trusted that Sylvaine valued her own life enough not to try anything too foolish, but even so, as she pushed through the crowd Cillian made sure to follow after her. As she approached the plumed hat, Cillian made it to the front of the crowd, subconsciously flexing his shoulders as he felt the reassuring weight of his spear and shield slung across his back. He wasn't entirely surprised to see his companion launch into a theatrical performance. Even in their relatively brief time in each others company, Cillian had witnessed the silver tongue that Sylvaine possessed, and the sharp mind that rested behind the emerald eyes. He didn't know how much of what she was saying was deception, and how much was genuine, but Cillian did what he could to play his part, nodding his heard towards the guards at Sylvaine's mention of her "minstrel", and carefully watching to see what the reaction to his companion's theatrics would be.

Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets II

"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud. Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, my friend, you would not tell with such high zest to children ardent for some desperate glory, the old Lie; Dulce et Decorum Est pro patria mori." -Wilfred Owen

Autumn of 1757

2nd of July

Even as it's position seems to be crumbling, The Kingdom of Komentiolos continues to look beyond it's own borders. The chaos of Aegyptus is a black mark against Komentiolos, but while it has inspired condemnation from the other nations of Europe, for the native leaders of northern Africa, it has served as a stark warning. Secretive meetings, carefully hidden from those who would report back to the rest of Europe, have been held with the satraps of the land caught between Aegyptus and Komentiolos proper. The shroud of dread, and the bloody reports from Aegyptus, no doubt go some way to sway these native leaders, but it is still an act of careful diplomacy to win over these leaders. Despite the apparently heavy-handed approach that King Nikolaos II has already proven himself capable of, in these meetings there is far more of a measured approach. Although there will no doubt be those who slink away in the darkness, agreements are put into place to allow the territory to once again join the fold of Komentiolos, and no time is wasted. Komentiolos has long held some influence in the region, and there are already a number of ports that are familiar with Komentiolos traders, but almost overnight, the kingdom increases it's influence tenfold. Although showing little interest in barren land and shifting sands, Komentiolos looks to secure the harbours along the region's coastline, as well as those that line the handful of rivers that reach out into the desert. Although the iron fist is never far away, it is with a velvet glove that Komentiolos has claimed huge swathes of land, and moved one more step closer to rebuilding it's great empire of old.

4th of July

The feast in the halls of The Kingdom of Stevata has been drawing to a close, the gathered leaders returning to their own nations, but news reaches the city of Ravoza that see's the leaders of the Western Alliance hasten their departure. Prince William Asmont dies in his bed, his will to live simply fading away to nothing. The prince had never recovered from the death of his beloved wife, Princess Karoline, and with The Principality of Asmont safe in the hands of his son, William finally allowed himself to die of a broken heart. His death had seemed inevitable for months, and the transition of power is seamless. As the leaders of the Western Alliance travel to Aarborn for the royal funeral, Prince Alexandre Asmont makes preparations for their arrival. Despite the sorrow, this event may well bring the Western Alliance closer together, not least due to the fact that the new princess of Asmont is none other than the daughter of Arch-Duke Jean-Baptise Dervau, Juliette, a bond between Asmont and The Empire of Grimhout. Alexandre's older sister, Valentina, is also married to Jean-Baptiste's brother, Charles, and through these two marriages, Grimhout and Asmont and intrinsically linked.

6th of July

Even while the Western Alliance leaves the feast of The Kingdom of Stevata, the diplomats of The Empire of Khazaria finally break their silence. Officially signing the proposed treaty of Stevata, Khazaria reaffirms it's commitment to the Eastern Alliance, but it also takes the oppurtunity to go one step further. A vast painting is unveiled to the gathered nobles, showing a wounded rider of Khazaria, draped in the flags of Stevata, Khazaria, The Kingdom of Paranas and The Kingdom of Teclav as he charges towards the line of his enemies, a sabre clutched in his hand. The painting itself is impressive, but it is the message that ignites hushed conversations in the capital of Stevata. It is Khazaria that rode to Stevata's aid, shattering the armies of The Kingdom of Dorist, and it is Khazaria that blunted the advance of The Kingdom of Komentiolos when it threatened to break Paranas. King Oswald IV is obviously a man of ambition, but the young Şahin Macar is making a clear statement that it is Khazaria's sacrifice that has carried the alliance. Even as the Eastern Alliance seems poised to overwhelm the isolated Komentiolos, the intrigue of a power struggle threatens to bring it all crumbling down, and all eyes will no doubt be watching for King Oswald's response.

7th of July

The Republic of Kalseran may have stepped away from the war raging just beyond it's borders, but it is far from lying idle. Merchants have long been the lifeblood of the republic, bringing a river of gold into the harbours of Kalseran, and now is no different. The powerful merchant families of the republic hold sway in ports and harbours all across the Mediterranean, and as one, they begin to call in old favours. Ships begin to sail between a dozen nations, all sailing beneath the flag of Kalseran, and bringing riches back to the republic. Perhaps it is simply an attempt to recoup the losses of the war, or perhaps the Grand Lady of the Republic, Luisa A'Dera, is looking to wage a new war, a war of coin. The republic knows well how to wage this new war, none more than Luisa herself, and they take to their new task with relish. Ships frequently travel to The Empire of Reria, perhaps looking to capitalise on the bond forged in war, and bring the empire closer to Kalseran's influence, or at leas further away from the encroaching influence of the Western Alliance. Ships also travel to the nations of the Western Alliance, no doubt looking to benefit from the wealth generated by the Vera Engine, but it is not just across Europe that ships of the republic sail. More ships set sail for India, no doubt bringing yet more aid to feed the ambitions of Maria Toleas, but ships also sail west. The Empire of Grimhout and The Kingdom of Kehsi have been enjoying their dominance of the Americas, but as Kalseran makes the long journey across the Atlantic, that dominance may soon be challenged.

10th of July

Once again, The Kingdom of Stevata attempts to create new trade between the east and the west, and once again, the Western Alliance does not commit to the young king's grand ambitions. The leaders of the Western Alliance have left Stevata's halls, travelling to The Principality of Asmont for the funeral of the late prince, and it is only diplomats that remain to represent the nations of the west. Perhaps these diplomats simply do not hold the authority to discuss trade deals with Stevata, or perhaps they have their orders. Whatever the case, the Western Alliance continues to deny Stevata's dreams of gold flowing across Europe. There are those in Stevata who are quickly growing bitter about this seeming refusal, but there are also those who question the strength of Stevata's position. After all, through the colonies of The Empire of Grimhout, The Kingdom of Kehsi and The Kingdom of Hispalis, the Western Alliance commands huge wealth, while Stevata can make no such claims. Any trade agreements reached between the east and the west would surely benefit the east far more than it ever could the west. Whatever the reality, the bitterness in Stevata only continues to grow as rumours spread that through The Kingdom of Genstadt and The Kingdom of Dorist, the Western Alliance has reached out to the nations of the north, looking to strengthen relations. The situation is only soured further as Prince Marcian, the younger brother of King Oswald IV, finds his proposal of marriage for Queen Margriet I, leader of Genstadt, blocked at every turn. Queen Margriet is in Aarborn, attending the funeral of Prince William Asmont, when Marcian arrives to try and win her favour with lavish gifts. Perhaps it is the sombre tone of the occasion, or perhaps it is the influence of the Western Alliance at work once again, but Margriet is quick to make it clear that she has no interest in the proposal. The queen's true love, her late husband Kasper, has only been dead for less than a decade, and she is clearly not willing to replace him with a man who is only a few years older than her son. Once again, Oswald's grand ambitions are rebuffed.

11th of July

Rumours have run rife throughout The Republic of Kalseran since the nation's sudden withdrawal from the war against The Empire of Khazaria and it's allies. These largely revolve around the reason for the sudden change of heart from Luisa A'Dera, and it is clear that the Grand Lady of the Republic is not death to the rumours. After all, no-one can rule the many-headed beast of the republic for as long as Luisa has, without having eyes and ears in every shadowy corner. Returning from the feast of The Kingdom of Stevata, Luisa hosts a grand party for all the noble families of the republic, bringing together the true power of the nation. What is discussed in the party itself is a carefully guarded secret, but two rumours do escape, although no doubt even these rumours are carefully cultivated by Luisa and her agents. Luisa shall forever be the Grand Lady of the Republic before she is a queen, and the republic will be hosting a grand Masquerade Ball in the coming spring. What the true meaning behind either of these rumours are, only a handful know for sure, but speculation is rampant all across Europe.

12th of July

With each day that passes, more and more soldiers of The Republic of Kalseran and The Kingdom of Altenten are able to return home, the fortified defensive lines that they had been watching over for the past months becoming obsolete as the burgeoning peace emerges between the nations. The Kingdom of Paranas also withdraws it's forces from it's western border, with thousands of fresh soldiers marching south to re-enforce the defensive lines against The Kingdom of Komentiolos. Further north, while The Kingdom of Stevata also redeploys it's soldiers away from Kalseran and Altenten, the garrison along the border with The Kingdom of Dorist. Tensions between the two nations have still not entirely died away, and this gesture will no doubt be noticed by not only Dorist, but also the Western Alliance. It is through war that Stevata reclaimed the province of Shardvul, and Dorist will not forget the blood that soaked the earth. Despite this growing tension, Stevata is still joining it's allies in turning almost it's full strength towards the solitary figure of The Kingdom of Komentiolos. Komentiolos faces a storm, and none can say for sure whether the eastern kingdom can weather it.

15th of July

The feast of The Kingdom of Stevata finally draws to a close. In just a matter of weeks, the very balance of Europe has shifted drastically, and in the halls of Ravoza, deals have been struck that could well bring The Kingdom of Komentiolos to it's knees. The ships of The Republic of Kalseran and The Empire of Reria that had for so long dominated the Black Sea, beating back the fleets of The Empire of Khazaria and The Kingdom of Paranas, allowing the soldiers of Komentiolos ot flood across the narrow straits and secure a foothold in Paranas itself. have returned to their own harbours. With the fleet of Komentiolos still in tatters, the Black Sea is now firmly in the hands of Khazaria and Paranas, and as the balance swings, despite the formidable strength of Komentiolos, even King Nikolaos II cannot hope to defend his nation's vast and virtually undefended coastline. Not only that, but as Kalseran and Reria also withdraw their soldiers form the front line, the Eastern Alliance is now free to focus all of it's resources on Komentiolos itself. Komentiolos commands hundreds of thousands of soldiers, their vast army dominated by the conscripted 'legions', but they stand alone against the strength of Khazaria, Stevata, Paranas and The Kingdom of Teclav. Throughout it all, the Western Alliance only continues to grow in strength, seizing the oppurtunity of the turmoil to sweep The Kingdom of Dorist into the fold. The bond between The Kingdom of Fosbak and The Empire of Stabuga has also continued to strengthen, at the expense of The Kingdom of Orvag, and many are already dubbing the two sleeping giants as 'The Northern Alliance'. For now, the alliances of the west and the north have remained neutral in the Komentiolos war, but if either one was to become involved in the conflict, it could well swing the balance yet again.

17th of July

The feast may have reached it's conclusion, but that is not to suggest that King Oswald IV has put his ambitions on hold. In the heart of The Kingdom of Stevata, important discussions are being had, and pieces are carefully being moved into place. Just as with the gathering of nobles in The Republic of Kalseran, the contents of these discussions are carefully hidden from curious ears, but even so, rumours continue to run rampant. It is no great secret that King Oswald took the time to meet with Luisa A'Dera in private during the feast in Stevata, and Kalseran's sudden withdrawal from the war of The Kingdom of Komentiolos has only poured fuel on the flames of the idea that some deal has been struck between the two leaders. The extent of this deal is still yet to emerge, or indeed evidence of any deal at all, but if Kalseran has not just turned away from Komentiolos, but climbed into bed with the enemy, the repercussions will no doubt echo all across Europe.

20th of July

As arguably the most crucial force behind it's creation, The Empire of Grimhout stands as the de-facto leader of the Western Alliance, and with marriages now binding his family to the royalty of both The Principality of Asmont and The Kingdom of Arhan, Arch-Duke Jean-Baptise Dervau stands in an undeniably powerful position. And yet despite the wealth flowing into Grimhout, power breeds envy, and the empire is no exception. It is impossible to ignore the overwhelming strength that the Western Alliance can call upon, and there are several noble families of Grimhout that believe that that strength should be put to use. Jean-Baptiste has united the Western Alliance with talk of peace and brotherhood, but there are still those who think that this power should be used to carve Grimhout's name into history. If the Western Alliance moved towards war, it could threaten to sweep east, overwhelming the other nations of Europe through sheer military might. For now, the Arch-Duke maintains his control over the empire, and these calls for war only come from the more extreme nobles, but greed is in the heart of every man, and Jean-Baptiste will have to ensure that the rot is not allowed to spread, if it is indeed peace that he champions.

21st of July

The game of cat and mouse in the mountains of the north between Nader ud-Daula and Raja Ali has ground on for weeks, and despite the unrelenting numbers of The Viswan Empire, Nader ud-Daula has managed to hold off his enemy through tactical brilliance, and raw ferociousness. The bulk of Viswan's are little more than conscripts, raised from the local populace when they are needed. They are ill-paid and ill-equipped, lacking discipline and equipped with whatever weapons they could get their hands on. In the face of the wild northern soldiers that serve under Nader ud-Daula, they are more than likely to break in terror before Raja Ali can attempt to organise a counter-attack. The legend of Nader ud-Daula himself continues to grow, to the point where his mere name is enough to break some men, and Raja Ali has grown tired of the game he is being forced to play. With every day that passes, more men march to join his army, and despite the losses suffered in the face of Nader ud-Daula's ferocious raids, the Viswan Empire now boasts a vast army. As dawn breaks, Raja Ali orders his army into the mountains. Nader ud-Daula is quick to react, believing the move to simply be another probing offensive, and yet when he charges down the mountainside at the head of his own troops, he quickly realises that it is the full strength of the Viswan Empire that faces him. Despite all of the northern king's brilliance, his hit-and-run raids barely even slow the advance of this vast army, and it quickly becomes clear what Raja Ali intends. The walled city of Taleagon lies deep in the mountains, standing as the seat of power for Nader ud-Daula's kingdom, and it is towards this city that Raja Ali is directing his unrelenting advance. Thousands upon thousands of Viswan soldiers die in the mountains, but the advance does not falter, and Nader ud-Daula finally acknowledges his own weakness. Despite all of his brilliance, he cannot hope to slay this beast alone. Riders are sent with all haste to the west, and Nader ud-Daula swears fealty to the banished prince Shah Jafar, and crying out for Mir Khan to march his own army to the defence of Taleagon. This message also reaches the colony of The Empire of Grimhout, and it is quickly becoming clear that the war has only just begun.

22nd of July

Even as the conflict in India continues to rage, the ships of Europe that have been dispatched to bring vital aid to the colonies in the east reach the trading post of The Kingdom of Hispalis. The long voyage around the tip of Africa is an arduous one, but it is the only passage to reach India, and the position that Hispalis has claimed as it's own is a crucial point of resupply. The ships of The Empire of Grimhout and The Kingdom of Kehsi pass through without incident, taking on fresh supplies and continuing on their way, but for the ships of The Republic of Kalseran there is an issue. There is nothing necessarily malicious about the string of delays, supplies being misplaced, helmsman returning from shore leave blind drunk, but whatever the cause, the ships of Kalseran are delayed by almost a week, and when they do finally weigh anchor, the ships of Grimhout and Kehsi are long gone, and will arrive into India days before the ships of Kalseran.

24th of July

The Western Alliance has already effectively welcomed The Kingdom of Dorist into their ranks, further swelling their already significant strength, but that is clearly not the end of their ambition. It was the careful negotiation of the tensions between The Kingdom of Arhan and The Empire of Reria that served as one of the founding events of the alliance, and since an uneasy peace has settled, relations between the two neighbours have continued to grow. These relations have carefully been cultivated by the other members of the Western Alliance, and as northern Africa continues to resemble a powder keg, it is only through the careful intervention of The Kingdom of Hispalis that Reria has been able to maintain it's tenuous foothold across the Mediterranean. These growing relations were clearly not missed by The Republic of Kalseran, and as trade ships continue to sail between the empire and the republic, it is becoming increasingly clear that Reria is caught in the middle of a war of influence. Kalseran is bound to Reria through marriage, and the two nations have waged war together in the Black Sea, but even Emperor Clarenzio III cannot ignore the wealth that the Western Alliance can boast. Reria holds an important position, positioned as they are in such a way that they could control the Mediterranean itself, and it is not surprising that they are a prize to be courted. Whichever way the Emperor leans, the repercussions from the spurned could bring ruin, and the tensions between The Empire of Grimhout and Kalseran from the war in India are only continuing to grow as this war of influence continues.

26th of July

The newly crowned King Alexandru I does not waste any time in stamping his mark on his new nation. Perhaps more than any other king, Alexandru truly understands the inner workings of the army under his command, having served in the armies of The Kingdom of Paranas before his sudden rise to power, and the last few years have proven that despite the lauding of civilisation in Europe, war is still an un-caged beast at the heart of every man. Despite the heavily defended lines that criss-cross the province of Kavatsona, Paranas still holds several thousand soldiers in reserve in and around the capital of Alirgos, and it is with these men that Alexandru begins to carve his image of a 'New Model Army'. For now, this translates into more rigorous training, attempting to breed more discipline into the men that are to fight beneath the flag of Paranas, but Alexandru clearly has grand ambitions, and this seems to be simply the beginning of a far wider-reaching revolution. A handful of men drawn from the guard regiments that still garrison the southern defences add some quality to these new regiments, but it is the man that takes the helm that is the true driving force. General Makis Anastas has seen the brutal and chaotic face of war, and he quickly crushes any romantic ideals that these soldiers may have, instead drilling them with extreme discipline, running them ragged, pushing them until they fall to the ground and can go no further. These soldiers may gain steel from the bastard that drives them onwards, but that does not they hold any love for the man.

28th of July

When word reaches Baptiste Crevier of Nader ud-Daula's desperate call for aid, the man of The Empire of Grimhout does not hesitate. Baptiste realises that supporting the banished Shah Jafar may be a dangerous stance to take, but if he is successful in returning the prince to his rightful throne, then a grateful Emperor would be worth any risk. The soldier of fortune Heinrich Rosengart has had weeks to drill Grimhout's sepahi regiments into a fighting force, and it is time to blood these new soldiers. Honouring his pledge to Mir Khan and the usurped Prince Shah Jafar, Baptiste orders Heinrich to march to war, the three regiments of sepahi joining with the grand host that Mir Khan has gathered to march west and join with the forces of the northern king. In the far west of the sub-continent, Maria Toleas continues to show no such commitment. For now, Emperor Shah Mal still considers himself to have the upper hand, and he is still wary to give the European woman too much power, but this situation suits the silver-tongued Maria well. While the Emperor focuses his attention to the north, Maria continues to strengthen her own influence in the south. Although there are still those who watch on warily, particularly in The Republic of Kalseran itself, asking the inevitable question of whether these southern princes are pledging their fealty to the republic, or to Maria herself. It takes months for any news to travel between Europe and India, and although extravagant goods and coin continue to make the long voyage east, there are few who do not believe that it is Maria who rules in India, not the republic.

29th of July

Even as they expand their borders to the south, The Kingdom of Komentiolos does not neglect the territory that it already holds. King Nikolaos II himself tours his nation, accompanied by a cohort of royal surveyors and engineers, and it is not long before they are put to work. Much of Komentiolos is made up of rugged land, and if it is on this land that Komentiolos is to make it's stand, then the land should serve as the first line of defence. The mountain passes of the north and east are quickly turned into choke-points, and a series of fortifications are constructed all along the northern coastline of the kingdom, intended to negate the strength of any force that might look to invade Komentiolos from across the water. It is quickly becoming clear that while Komentiolos may be the driving force behind the war continuing, if the Eastern Alliance wishes to bring it to a close, then they will have to throw themselves against the formidable defences of Komentiolos. And it is not only to the east that Komentiolos is strengthening it's defences. The same straits that Komentiolos crossed to shatter the defences of The Kingdom of Paranas now stands as perhaps the weakest point of Komentiolos. As the last ships of The Empire of Reria and The Republic of Kalseran leave the Black Sea, the fleet of Komentiolos cannot hope to defend the supply ships that are constantly sailing between the provinces of Kavatsona and Bithynia, bringing crucial supplies to the vast army that Komentiolos has defending it's foothold in Paranas. With that in mind, work is quickly started to further fortify the ancient fortresses that overlook the vital straits, and in the heart of Komentiolos, the forges are stoked to create vast chains, intended to be dragged across the straits themselves. These defences will take time, and there are those within Komentiolos who fear that they may be tested long before they are ready, but time is the one commodity that King Nikolaos cannot command, and he must simply press on.

31st of July

As fate would have it, the defences of the straits are tested long before any of the new fortifications can be completed. Two third-rate ships of the line, sailing beneath the flag of The Kingdom of Paranas, travel south, and pass into the Bosporus. The Kingdom of Komentiolos can muster no ships to meet them, but assuming that the straits are undefended would be a grave error. The Bosporus has been the lifeblood of countless empires, it's importance and strategic value dating back centuries, and it's shores are littered with the ruins of fortresses from a dozen forgotten eras. Yet it is not only ruins that litter the shoreline of the straits, and as these two ships of Paranas sail into the strait, the all too familiar roar of cannon-fire echoes out across the Black Sea once more. The first of the two ships is cautious enough to turn about with all haste, but the second is not so quick. The first shot catches it near the bow, splintering the hull and effectively crippling it, as fire starts to spread across the deck. The second and third shot condemn the ship, even as the captain desperately tries to bring it about, and escape the range of the two fortresses that flank the strait. As the survivors desperately scramble for the shore, the other ship sails homewards with a grim message of warning. And yet even as Paranas is bloodied, the fleet of The Empire of Khazaria is readying to sail to war, although how they intend to test the defences of Komentiolos, only the young Şahin Macar knows for sure.

The Blackwood

Cillian Kindellan

Cillian Kindellan

Human (Caelic Isles) | 37 | Male

Appearance

Cillian does not stand out from the countless travellers on the road. He does not boast the powerful bulk of the warrior, or the lithe silhouette of the rogue, but he still stands at a decent height of around six foot, and beneath his clothing, his frame is one of wiry muscle, marked with dozens of scars and painted with the traditional woad tattoos of his people. His hair is pale, a rare sight among those who hail from the Caelic Isles, and he wears it long and braided, along with a short and unruly beard. His clothing is simple but durable, and he is rarely found without his carefully crafted mail armour, forged by his father's own hand. The spear and shield, often slung across his back, and the dagger on his belt, are also from his father's forge, and along with his armour, they are his last ties to his home, and his family. It is Cillian's eyes that are his most striking feature, a pale but fiercely intense blue that light up with an almost ethereal fire whenever he has a story on his lips, or a foe before him.

Personality

Cillian has spent years rubbing shoulders with paupers and kings, and this has left him with an easy charm. Coupled with the natural warmth and kinship of those hardy folk that carve out a life the Caelic Isles, Cillian is a friendly figure, although anyone who spends too long in the man's company will realise that there is something a little... unhinged about the wanderer. Perhaps it true that fey blood runs through his veins, or perhaps Cillian has simply spent too long dreaming of mythic creatures and fantastical legends, but despite the welcoming nature of the man, he is clearly not all there. Perhaps it is this that fuels his wandering, and sees him rarely spent too long in place, or with one group. Despite this, he is an earnest companion, an honourable warrior, and a talented entertainer.

Background

• Wandering Bard
• Lower Class
• Son of the Blacksmith and the Storyteller

History

(Will be filled over time)

Cillian was born into a simple village, clinging to a windswept rocky island that juts from the stormy waters of the Shrouded Sea. The second son of the village's blacksmith, Cillian had as comfortable a childhood as can be expected from the people that cling to the Caelic Isles, but that is not to say that his upbringing was uneventful. To survive on the islands, people grow up tough, and they grow up fast. Norgardian raids were common, and as soon as Cillian was old enough to stand, he had a spear thrust into his hands, and taught how to use it. It was to Cillian's older brother, Ronan, that the trade of smithing was passed down, and while his brother worked over the forge under his father's watchful eye, Cillian was drawn more to his mother.

The women of Cillian's village were as hardy as the men, just as likely to take up a weapon and defend her homestead as the men, and Cillian's mother was no exception. And yet it was in the flickering firelight of the night, as the clan pulled close together in the chieftain's hall, against the darkness and the chill, that Cillian's mother was in her element. It is the druids that tie the Caelic Isles to their gods, but it is the storytellers and bards that tie them to their myths, and their legends, and their history. Cillian's mother was one of those storytellers, and Cillian hung on her every word.

All of the village's children enjoyed her stories, gripped by the tales of great beasts and courageous heroes, but for Cillian, it was something different. He had an almost insatiable hunger for these legends, and when he heard them, his eyes lit up, and he felt truly alive, as if he could see these fantastical creatures in the room before him, even as his mother spoke. Whenever other clans visited the village, for trade or to keep relations friendly with their neighbours, Cillian begged them to share their own tales, and when they relented, he drank them in greedily.

Motivation

Cillian wanders the world, bringing the songs and legends of his people to anyone who has coin to spare, but he has long held ambitions of experiencing a legend of his own, and that ambition has drawn him to the dark depths of the Blackwood...

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

• Polearm with Shield (1)
• Daggers (1)

Intelligence [1/1]

• Legendry (1)

Charisma [1/1]

• Singing (1)
• Charm (2)

Health [1/1]

• Toughness (1)
• Stamina (1)
• Rejuvenation (1)

Faculties [1/1]

• Perception (1)
• Intuition (1)
• Willpower (1)
• Woodcraft (1)

Agility [1/1]

• Balance (1)
• Swimming (1)

Mysticism [0/3]

---

Equipment

• Spear
• Shield
• Dagger
• Mail Armour

Money

5 Royals, 12 Lordlings and 28 Commons

Languages

Caelic, Northern Tongue

The Blackwood

I'd be open to the conditions, if that's what it takes to be accepted. Having another character to bounce off always helps, I can imagine the interactions between Cillian and Sylvaine to be entertaining, as well as going some way to compliment each others skillset. Of course it largely depends on Duck also being on board, but it's a thumbs up from me @POOHEAD189 and thank you for (pseudo) having me

The Blackwood

I've been out of traditional RP'ing for a while, and I missed the interest check, but I was struck by a wave of inspiration, so I thought I'd put my character idea out there. Obviously it looks like there will be a lot of competition, so I won't be pinning my hopes too highly, but if this sheet helps inspire anyone else, then that works too! Without further ado...

Cillian Kindellan

Cillian Kindellan

Human (Caelic Isles) | 37 | Male

Appearance

Cillian does not stand out from the countless travellers on the road. He does not boast the powerful bulk of the warrior, or the lithe silhouette of the rogue, but he still stands at a decent height of around six foot, and beneath his clothing, his frame is one of wiry muscle, marked with dozens of scars and painted with the traditional woad tattoos of his people. His hair is pale, a rare sight among those who hail from the Caelic Isles, and he wears it long and braided, along with a short and unruly beard. His clothing is simple but durable, and he is rarely found without his carefully crafted mail armour, forged by his father's own hand. The spear and shield, often slung across his back, and the dagger on his belt, are also from his father's forge, and along with his armour, they are his last ties to his home, and his family.

Personality

Cillian has spent years rubbing shoulders with paupers and kings, and this has left him with an easy charm. Coupled with the natural warmth and kinship of those hardy folk that carve out a life the Caelic Isles, Cillian is a friendly figure, although anyone who spends too long in the man's company will realise that there is something a little... unhinged about the wanderer. Perhaps it true that fey blood runs through his veins, or perhaps Cillian has simply spent too long dreaming of mythic creatures and fantastical legends, but despite the welcoming nature of the man, he is clearly not all there. Perhaps it is this that fuels his wandering, and sees him rarely spent too long in place, or with one group. Despite this, he is an earnest companion, an honourable warrior, and a talented entertainer.

Background

• Wandering Bard
• Lower Class
• Son of the Blacksmith and the Storyteller

History

(Will be filled over time)

Motivation

Cillian wanders the world, bringing the songs and legends of his people to anyone who has coin to spare, but he has long held ambitions of experiencing a legend of his own, and that ambition has drawn him to the dark depths of the Blackwood...

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

• Polearm with Shield (1)
• Daggers (1)

Intelligence [1/1]

• Legendry (1)

Charisma [1/1]

• Singing (1)
• Charm (1)

Health [1/1]

• Toughness (1)
• Stamina (1)
• Rejuvenation (1)

Faculties [1/1]

• Perception (1)
• Willpower (1)
• Woodcraft (1)

Agility [1/1]

• Balance (1)
• Swimming (1)

Mysticism [0/3]

---

Equipment

• Spear
• Shield
• Dagger
• Mail Armour

Money

(Will roll if/when accepted)

Languages

Caelic, Northern Tongue

Pro Patria Mori - A Tale of Sailships and Muskets II

"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud. Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, my friend, you would not tell with such high zest to children ardent for some desperate glory, the old Lie; Dulce et Decorum Est pro patria mori." -Wilfred Owen

Summer of 1757

3rd of June

While the nations of the Western Alliance may well be represented at the feast of The Kingdom of Stevata, King Oswald IV is clearly not content with anything but the highest order. As the feast of The Kingdom of Dorist draws to a close, an urgent messenger is sent west from Stevata, calling for the assembled leaders to travel east to Ravoza with all haste. It is testament to how significant Oswald believes his cause to be that he seems to demand that these leaders of the alliance are present, and it is testament then to that belief that the leaders of the Western Alliance do make the journey. It is almost unprecedented for such a number of leaders to stray from friendly territory, so it is no surprise that each king and queen is accompanied by a formidable force of Royal Guard, to the point where the soldiers of the Western Alliance in the Stevata capital quickly outnumber the soldiers of Stevata itself. Not deterred by this, the 'elite' troops of Stevata are quick to engage in training, just outside the cities walls, clearly intended to impress the gathered nations. While this display is entertaining, it does little to impress the nations who's soldiers outclass Stevata's own, chiefly Dorist and The Kingdom of Hispalis. Regardless, Oswald has achieved his ambition, and his city now plays host to leaders of Europe from The Empire of Grimhout, The Republic of Kalseran, The Empire of Khazaria and The Kingdom of Paranas. It is only The Kingdom of Komentiolos that still does not make the journey.

4th of June

As Europe seems to take another tentative towards peace, the sprawling powers of India seem to have no such ambitions. Nader ud-Daula may have seized the initiative, striking a glancing blow against the slumbering bulk of The Viswan Empire, but he has far from felled it. Emperor Shah Mal is a cold-blooded and cunning leader, but he is no general, and command of his vast armies fall upon the shoulders of the grizzled veteran, Raja Ali. The old soldier has no time for politics, and he cares little for the factions struggling for control in his nation. He is loyal to the Emperor, and will follow his orders with a dogged determination, and a unflinching grit. With a formidable strength under his command, Raja Ali marches north, and it quickly becomes clear that Nader ud-Daula will soon feel the full and terrible force of the Viswan Empire. For now, the banished Shah Jafar is left to gather support in the east, with the willing support of The Empire of Grimhout, while The Kingdom of Kehsi and the southern princes look on from the south. The growing strength of The Republic of Kalseran is not called upon by Shah Mal, but whether that is due to confidence in his own strength, or a distrust of Maria Toleas, only the Emperor knows.

6th of June

Even though the Western Alliance makes the journey east, it is still clear that they have not forgotten their allegiances. Rumours continue to swirl that The Kingdom of Dorist has bound itself to the alliance, although the details of the treaties signed are still a closely-guarded secret, but there are other gestures that are far more public. As a sign of the closeness that exists between the nations, every nation of the Western Alliance, as well as Dorist, announce a period of mourning for the death of Princess Karoline Asmont, and The Empire of Grimhout announces the founding of a orphanage in the heart of Rivierberg, named in honour of the former princess of The Principality of Asmont. Prince William Asmont is still a shell of his former self, almost broken by the death of his beloved wife, but he is still sure to express his gratitude for these gestures of his allies. And yet with each day that passes, he seems to grow a little fainter, his grip on life a little looser, and it seems all but inevitable that Prince Alexandre will soon take up his father's mantle.

7th of June

The light of peace had still only been a glimmer over Europe, but as quickly as it emerged, that glimmer is choked by the dark clouds of war once again. Even while The Kingdom of Stevata puts forward a treaty for peace, The Kingdom of Komentiolos quickly makes it clear that it has no such intentions. The entire nation is once again committed to the war, luxury items rationed, and prisoners press-ganged into forced labour, slaving in the fields to feed the hungry mouths of the nation. The harbours of Komentiolos that look out into the Black Sea are fortified, cannons dragged into positions as the shipwrights and carpenters are sent south, favouring the more sheltered Mediterranean harbours. Komentiolos also pours yet more fortifications all across it's borders, countless miles of defences carefully laid out, and spears being issued to the vast conscript armies of the kingdom. Those who were naive enough to think that the birth of the sons of King Nikolaos II would temper the man, or turn him towards peace, are quickly proven wrong, as it seems as if Komentiolos are even more committed to bloodshed than before. And yet, while Komentiolos seems not to have changed, the rest of Europe has changed it's face. The allies of Komentiolos, The Republic of Kalseran and The Empire of Reria have travelled to the feast of Stevata, and should they turn away from Komentiolos, even the formidable strength of Komentiolos may find it's beginning to crumble.

9th of June

As he pushes his nation into war once again, King Nikolaos II is quick to act, perhaps looking to nip any outcry before it can begin to bloom. Gathering the nobles and powerful merchants before him, Nikolaos launches into a speech full of fire and brimstone, cursing the nation's enemies for stoking the fires of rebellion in Aegyptus, and calling for The Kingdom of Komentiolos to claim the land it once held, centuries past, establishing the fallen empire once again. The king's rhetoric is powerful, his words hot with passion and ire, and the men gathered before him are caught up in it. War will bleed Komentiolos, but with the nobles behind him, perhaps the king can keep his nation on it's course. Whatever happens in the coming months, Nikolaos has made his stance clear, and as news of these sweeping reforms begins to reach the rest of Europe, it is now the turn of the nations gathered in Stevata to react. War is the trade of kings, but it is a trade of blood, and mankind's greatest evils, and it is not the kings that will pay the toll.

11th of June

With the nations of Europe gathered, and news continuing to arrive from the south, King Oswald IV once again presents his peace treaty. The treaty itself is worthless, The Kingdom of Komentiolos not only absent from the talks, but seemingly preparing for war, but it is clear that The Kingdom of Stevata are looking to use the treaty as a gesture, a symbol that the nations of Europe stand united against Komentiolos. Unfortunately, just as with most great plans, it goes awry. The Kingdom of Teclav is quick to add it's signature to the treaty, as is The Kingdom of Paranas, and they are surprisingly followed by The Kingdom of Altenten, Philip Lehner seeming to once again sense a shift in the balance of power, but it is there that Stevata's fortune ends. Both The Republic of Kalseran and The Empire of Reria stand firm in their defiance of the treaties blaming of Komentiolos, claiming that the war between Komentiolos and The Empire of Khazaria is merely a continuing of the war of The Kingdom of Dorist, and that whatever blame there may have been has been washed away with blood. The diplomats of the Western Alliance also fail to sign the treaty, making it clear that while they support peace, they do not wish to be drawn into the conflict, a sentiment echoed by the diplomats of the northern nations of The Empire of Stabuga, The Kingdom of Fosbak and The Kingdom of Orvag. Perhaps these moves could have been anticipated by Oswald, but there is one omission that could not have been expected. The diplomats of Khazaria make no move to sign the treaty, remaining stony silent, and seemingly gripped with atrophy. With Khazaria seemingly refusing to join Stevata in it's push for peace, not only does Stevata's ambitions lose crucial momentum, but it also carves a rift in the heart of the so-called 'Eastern Alliance'.

14th of June

In the days following the refusal of The Republic of Kalseran and The Empire of Reria to sign the treaty of The Kingdom of Stevata, news has continued to arrive from The Kingdom of Komentiolos, making it impossible to ignore the reality that Komentiolos is loosing the dogs of war once again. There are shadowy meetings, hushed conversations that stretch on long into the night, but eventually, the diplomats of Kalseran and Reria emerge, and make an announcement to the nations still gathered in the Stevata capital. Kalseran joined the bloody war in defence of The Kingdom of Dorist, and that contract has been fulfilled. The forces of Kalseran will withdraw, and play no further part in the war between Komentiolos and The Empire of Khazaria. Reria is quick to follow the example set by it's neighbour, and despite the close ties that tether Reria to Komentiolos, Emperor Clarenzio III has clearly grown weary of sending his people into the carnage and bloodshed of battle. In a single moment, the strength of Komentiolos has crumbled, all three of it's allies seeming to forsake it, and leaving it to fight on alone against it's gathered enemies. It is also clearly not only in the east that Kalseran is hoping to avoid war, as the Grand Lady of the Republic herself writes a letter to Arch-Duke Jean-Baptise Dervau, calling on her fellow leader to stop the conflict raging in India from reaching European shores. The letter shows genuine intent, and considering the belief in peace that the Arch-Duke has already shown, Kalseran clearly hopes that The Empire of Grimhout will not look to play out the wars of Baptiste Crevier and Maria Toleas on battlegrounds closer to home.

15th of June

If there are those who may have thought that the grand speeches of reclaiming a lost empire were simply intended to rally his people, it quickly becomes apparent that King Nikolaos II was not simply being theatrical when he pledged to return The Kingdom of Komentiolos to it's former imperial glory. Soldiers of Komentiolos, their blades barely wiped clean of the blood of Aegyptus, begin to gather on the borders of the recently 'cleansed' territory, casting greedy eyes towards the still unclaimed land beyond those borders. In the aftermath of the 'Aegyptus Massacre', nearly every nation of Europe has turned particular attention to the region, and although details are a carefully guarded secret of Komentiolos, it is clear that something is happening, and the self-proclaimed 'Caesar' seems to be moving his pieces into place once again. If Komentiolos does look to wage war in the continent, then the colonies of The Empire of Reria and The Kingdom of Hispalis will no doubt be making their own preparations. The actions of Komentiolos have already soured the reputation of Europeans to the nomadic tribes that call the shifting sands their home, and it is only the prosperity of those who serve Hispalis that keep the entire region from becoming unstable. Reria's colony is still in it's infancy, little more than a handful of trading ports and tentative forays deeper inland, but their grip grows weaker by the day, driving them further into the willing aid of Hispalis and, crucially, even further from Komentiolos.

18th of June

The long land border between the territories still loyal to Emperor Shah Mal and those that have been seized by Nader ud-Daula has become a dozen battlefields, the two formidable generals, Nader himself and the commander of The Viswan Empire, Raja Ali, clashing again and again. The two commanders are like duellists, and every battle seems to follow the same pattern. Nader ud-Daula strikes at Viswan with a wild fury, often leading the charge himself, roaring out a warcry, but by the time Raja Ali has reacted, moving troops to respond, Nader has already withdrawn, disappearing as quickly as he appeared and leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Any attempt that Raja makes to retaliate, sending forces into the northern mountains, is quickly outmanoeuvred and cut off by the fanatically loyal soldiers of Nader. And yet, with every soldier of the Viswan Empire that falls, two more take his place, and the northern bandit king does not have that luxury. As war continues to rage, Viktor Halse finally responds to the request of Baptiste Crevier. The Kingdom of Kehsi will lend supplies and coin to it's ally, but men of Kehsi will not fight shoulder-to-shoulder with those of The Empire of Grimhout. Not yet.

19th of June

Perhaps it is the grief of his people, the plight of the thousands and thousands of refugees that are fleeing their own nation for fear of war and bloodshed, the overwhelming failure of a man who could not shield his own people from harm, but in the darkness of the night, King Markus I loses his mind. Ranting and raving of demons and curses, the king is quickly restrained by his chief advisers, and it quickly becomes clear that a decision must be made. The Kingdom of Paranas is teetering on a precipice, caught in the middle of a war that seems destined to grind on, and that careful and precarious path cannot be trod by a lunatic. Markus has never married, showing little interest in the women that his courtiers had attempted to align him with, and he has produced no heirs. As if to compound the issue even further, the man that had been the assumed heir, the nephew of Markus, Lukas Rainer, had been struck down suddenly by illness less than two years past. If the bloodline of Paranas is to continue, then the weight of rule will find itself falling upon the shoulders of Alexandru Marius Rainer. The second son, a man who was never expected to rule, Alexandru has long shirked the nobility of his name, serving in the Paranas army with distinction, becoming a man popular with the troops under his command, and only prevented from serving in the defence of Paranas by the abrupt death of his brother. Word is quickly sent to Alexandru, and a hurried coronation is prepared. Alexandru is still young, but he is a man with ambition, and already popular among the masses. Perhaps he is the man that is destined to raise Paranas from the ashes. As the new king steps into the rift, Markus is quietly moved to a villa on the Black Sea coast, accompanied by only a handful of Royal Guards, a trusted physician, and his closest and oldest friend, Samuele Landino. If he will ever recover from the madness that grips his mind, none can say, but regardless, a new age has dawned over Paranas.

21st of June

Even while they push for peace, The Kingdom of Stevata does not forsake it's own strength. The navy of Stevata has long been little more than a haphazard collection of ships, led nor manned with any great skill, and paling in comparison to the other fleets that sail the Baltic Sea, and this is a fact that has not escaped the attention of the young king. While Queen Marta II is present in the Stevata capital, Oswald looks to seize the oppurtunity, promising trade and coin in exchange for ships of The Kingdom of Fosbak. The northern kingdom is tentative at first, wary of relinquishing their dominance in the Baltic Sea, but as the rest of Europe looks to build bridges, the queen convinces her advisers that it is time for Fosbak to follow suit. In an impressive gesture of goodwill, half a dozen third-rate ships of the line are sailed into the harbours of Hutina, manned by skeleton crews and turned over to the bewildered sailors of Stevata. Fosbak also provides a dozen sloops, the craftsmanship a world apart from the ships that currently serve in Stevata's haphazard navy, but it is aboard one of these sloops that Fosbak provides the greatest tool. Sten Sundström is an experienced sailor, and a competent commander, and compared to the naval officers of Stevata, he is a mastermind. Tasked with whipping the sailors and commanders of Stevata into something resembling a modern navy, Sten takes to his task with a stony stoicism. As Stevata becomes a more promising naval power, The Kingdom of Orvag will no doubt be keeping a careful eye on their neighbours across the sea, wary of another power threatening their own position in the Baltic Sea.

23rd of June

In the absence of The Kingdom of Komentiolos, and the absence of a definitive peace, the summit at the heart of The Kingdom of Stevata has become something else entirely. The great leaders of Europe are gathered together, an oppurtunity that may not be afforded again for years, and nearly every nation seems to be looking to make use of the oppurtunity. Hushed conversations are had, deals struck in secret, preparations made for grand ambitions, all shrouded in carefully maintained secrecy. While Komentiolos seems to be quickly finding itself isolated, for the other leaders of Europe, there has never been more unity. Stevata seems to have quickly drawn close with The Republic of Kalseran, while The Empire of Grimhout and the other nations of the Western Alliance have taken the oppurtunity to not only strengthen their own bonds, but solidify their position as a major force in Europe. The Kingdom of Fosbak and The Empire of Stabuga also grows closer by the day, and it is becoming increasingly clear that a northern alliance will emerge in the coming months. Despite the stony silence of The Empire of Khazaria, Stevata has also looked to strengthen the other bonds of the 'Eastern Alliance', and the new king of The Kingdom of Paranas has been quick to take the oppurtunity to impose his will on the continental stage, establishing himself as an ambitious and driven leader. Perhaps war is destined to return, perhaps the animalistic call for blood and slaughter is too strong to be ignored by any man, but in Ravoza, even if only for a moment, the beast is caged.

24th of June

It has been more than a year since the ground-breaking invention of the 'Vera Engine', and news of it's development has been eerily quiet. Any yet to mistake that silence for a lack of progress would be naive, and in the heart of The Kingdom of Hispalis, Julio Vera has continued his work. Following the feast of The Kingdom of Dorist, the power of the Vera Engine is no longer restricted to the cities of Hispalis, and bulky carts and carriages, piled with strange metal contraptions and accompanied by wide-eyed and wiry men and women, make the journey to The Kingdom of Arhan, The Principality of Asmont, The Kingdom of Genstadt, The Kingdom of Kehsi, The Empire of Grimhout and even, crucially, Dorist itself. These engines are truly revolutionary, and almost overnight, they transform the industry of the Western Alliance. Textiles are spun by roaring and untiring machines, and cast iron begins to become increasingly abundant, and reliable. While the east continues to peddle war, in the west, wealth still rules. In Dorist, a nation bloodied and broken by conflict, this new technology, as well as the generous trade with it's new allies, has revitalised the failing economy, bringing prosperity to a nation that has been bowed, but never broken. Industry booms in the west.

27th of June

The Empire of Khazaria has remained silent in the face of peace, but that does not mean it lies completely idle. The countless tribes of the empire have never been more united behind a common cause, and whether it is simply an expression of this unity, a reaction to The Kingdom of Komentiolos continuing to preach war, or something altogether more sinister, thousands of new soldiers flock to the banner of Khazaria. The people of Khazaria are war-like, the proud tradition of bloodshed still strong in their veins, and as even the wilder tribes of the east pledge their allegiance to the young Şahin Macar, the strength of the eastern nation continues to swell. The alliance that Khazaria has with it's neighbours of The Kingdom of Stevata, The Kingdom of Paranas and The Kingdom of Teclav may be beginning to show it's strain, but perhaps this is the way it was always destined to end. As the allies of Komentiolos seemingly withdraw their support, it is the ancient enemies that stand against each other, both believing their cause is just with an almost fanatical determination. The ancient enemies, whose war has raged since the Golden Horde of Khazaria clashed with the Western Crusaders more than three centuries past, who have looked at the other with envy for countless generations. The battle lines have been drawn, and if these two nations are to meet each other in war once again, every man that takes up his weapon will do it with the will of his ancestors at his back.

28th of June

Jozef Motycka has long had an almost unnatural obsession with the raw power of cannons. It is his undying appreciation for these new age weapons, and his ability at bringing them to bear, that has seen the man rise through the ranks of the army of The Kingdom of Stevata until he stands at the pinnacle. It is his good fortune then, that his obsession seems to be shared with the young King Oswald IV. Orders are given for the army of Stevata to turn it's attention towards strengthening it's artillery, casting more cannons, and ensuring that there is a more than ample supply of ammunition and powder, all under the watchful eye of Jozef himself. The process is slow, and despite the grand ambitions of Jozef, he often needs to be grounded in reality, but there is a surprising development that even Jozef may not have expected. As Stevata push to improve their artillery, word reaches them of the 'The Luciani Ratio', as well as news of it's powerful use in the hands of The Republic of Kalseran. A message is quickly prepared, and sent to Silvio Luciani, offering a substantial sum of coin for his services. Whatever the outcome, Jozef's obsession is an obsession with the future, and even if he has to do it single-handedly, he will not rest until he has dragged the army of Stevata into a new age.

29th of June

The Republic of Kalseran prove themselves to be true to their word. The soldiers of the Republic that have manned the stretched defences along the border between Kalseran and Paranas are allowed to steadily return to their homes, laying down their weapons so that they may once again hold their children and wives in their arms, but perhaps the most damning gesture comes further east. The massed fleet of the Republic has wrecked havoc against The Empire of Khazaria and The Kingdom of Paranas across the Black Sea, but the signal is given for them to make the voyage homewards. The move is gradual at first, but it quickly gains momentum, and the true significance of it is lost on none of the nations that look out across the Black Sea. As The Empire of Reria follows suit, also staying true to its word, with every ships of Kalseran and Reria that sail west, The Kingdom of Komentiolos grows more and more vulnerable. The fleet of Komentiolos still lies in tatters, while Khazaria and Paranas still command significant navies. If war does come to life once again, then the shoreline of Komentiolos is defended only by it's fortified harbours, and the pitiful handful of ships that are still remotely seaworthy. Komentiolos seemingly stands alone, and in the Black Sea, the balance of power is quickly swinging against them.