Not my own words, but: "Enjoy memes and have a good time online, but develop a solid sense of self-worth that is rooted in a reality that doesn't disappear when the battery charge is empty."
Name: Ephraim Karras Appearance: Years of military service have calloused Ephraim’s hands and given him a robust, well-defined build. His hair is cropped close to his head and he wears a full beard. Striking blue eyes pierce from under a thick brow. His skin is tanned as a result of both genetics and days spent under the sun. His left hand is prosthetic, a constant reminder of wartime rigors.
Weapons:
FAN-6 carbine - multiple configurations shown. Ephraim prefers a vertical foregrip and holo-sight, with other attachments as necessitated by the current operation.
P23 semi-automatic handgun - standard-issue sidearm carried by Gliesian Army forces.
A small collection of folding knives and a tactical machete.
Gear:
Pilot suit, with chest rig / armor plate carrier.
Ballistic helmet with integrated HUD and night/infrared/thermal vision filters.
TBA
Background: Prior to settling on Actaeon, Ephraim served with the 16th MFR - Mechanized Force Reconnaissance of the Gliesian Army. His detachment operated along a theoretical border between several fringe Gliesian colonies and home territories. For much of his service history, Ephraim's unit conducted patrols in the region, scouting for signs of buildup to a rebel offensive and screening incoming and outgoing traffic in Gliesian-controlled space. The signs pointed to an outbreak of hostilities, following military coups and declarations of independence by these frontier colonies.
By the time war had broken out, Ephraim's unit was among several dispatched to put down an insurrection on the colony Jubilant. When they arrived, fighting between the Gliesian military and separatists erupted. The rebel fighters operated as a patchwork of entities, fighting with both guerrilla and conventional means. Years of gruelling warfare passed by, with control of the colony teetering from one side to another and back. When it was clear that the rebels would not be defeated in a conventional war, Gliesian High Command devised a brutal operation to root out and destroy the separatist guerrilla movements.
Ephraim's unit was unknowingly armed with a deadly chemical agent under the pretense of a powerful anesthetic for the purpose of knocking out civilians and making it easier to transport them from the fighting to safety. In reality, Gliesian High Command planned to use the gas to wipe out the colony’s population, thereby eradicating all separatist activity. Ephraim and his unit was shaken to their cores when they witnessed the effects of the chemical agent. The operation was a success at the cost of all life on Jubilant. At the conclusion of the operation, Ephraim and his unit were awarded with decorations for “defending the integrity of Gliesian space,” and forced to keep a strict silence regarding the details of their mission.
Ephraim's unit struggled with a wavering sense of loyalty in the wake of the event. The fact it had been used to perpetrate a war crime lingered on the shoulders of its pilots. Some tried to forget, bottled their emotions and continued serving. Others tried to justify their actions to themselves. A number left the service or defected. Ephraim decided to abandon Gliese altogether, resentful of his former loyalty. Time and wanderlust led Ephraim to Actaeon, where he settled for military contractor work and tried to put the past behind.
Titan
Name: HC-82 Voltigeur Appearance:
Class: Medium Armament:
X330 chain gun - A 30mm, single-barrel, electrically-operated autocannon. Electrical power, instead of recoil or gas, cycles the weapon at a rate of 625 rounds per minute. The ROF can be altered in increments of 25. Advanced recoil mechanisms allow this weapon to be accurately fired with one hand. The most common round used by the X330 contains an explosive charge sealed in a shaped-charge liner. The liner collapses into an armor-piercing jet of metal that is capable of penetrating more than 2 inches of rolled homogeneous armor. The shell is also designed to fragment upon impact, with a lethal range of 10 feet from the point of impact against unprotected targets.
SGM-89 AT missile - The SGM-89 uses a fire-and-forget infrared homing system to find targets. The missile travels in an arc, designed to knock out armored vehicles with a top-down approach. Their range exceeds 4,000 meters and they are powerful enough to defeat 600-800 millimeters of rolled homogeneous armor. The missiles are fired via tubes mounted on the mech’s shoulder.
Head-mounted machine gun - A pair of .50 caliber machine guns mounted on the mech’s head provides it with anti personnel and small missile defense. They are fed via a linked 400 round magazine.
Utility: TBA Last Stand: TBA
Notes: The Voltigeur can achieve a maximum speed of 82 kilometers per hour at dry load via wheels mounted in the feet. The engines produce roughly 395 horsepower. Its armor is resistant to small arms fire and rounds up to 14.5 mm. Equipped Systems:
Countermeasures - The mech is fitted with smoke and chaff launchers, which discharge tiny particles to confuse the detection systems of guided missiles fired at it. The smoke blocks both vision and thermal imaging. A Windbreaker active protection system is designed to intercept and destroy incoming missiles and rockets with a blast of buckshot-like projectiles. A 360-degree field-of-view fire-control radar detects incoming warheads, immediately calculates its vector of approach and the elevation and time required to intercept it. Once it’s done so, two rotating launchers release a blast of projectiles at the missile at a safe distance from the frame. The mech is also equipped with a passive infrared countermeasure system to defeat missiles guided by IR signals.
MTADS / PNVS - The Modernized Target Acquisition and Designation Sight and Pilot Night Vision Sensor are separate units, but mounted together in the same housing. MTADS contains stabilized electro-optical sensors, a laser rangefinder and laser target designator, thermographic camera and a full-color daylight television camera. Images from the MTADS can be projected on the pilot’s helmet-mounted HUD or overlaid on the cockpit screen. The Pilot Night Vision Sensor links an infrared camera slaved to the pilot’s helmet.
IHADSS - The Integrated Helmet and Display Sighting System allows the pilot to slave the X330 to their helmet. The weapon will track the movement of the head, pointing where the pilot looks. The gun can be controlled this way, or via the MTADS.
GFAS - The Ground Fire Acquisition System detects and targets ground-based weapons fire sources. It does so in all-light conditions with a 120° visual field. Muzzle flashes are located via thermographic camera.
Elector Lucien shuffled his way down the hall, a burgundy cloak trailing behind him. He made no great haste to reach his destination, instead adopting a meandering pace, muttering to himself all the while. His gnarled hands were tucked behind his back, which stooped slightly with age. Many things were on his mind, staring down the Matathran representative being foremost. Lucien, like most Vlaanburgers, had no great love for the Empire. Understandable, given the threatening posture it held next to its smaller neighbor. Yet Matathran was keeping itself busy to the west, and that afforded the Electorates some sliver of relief. That they had sent one of their own in attempt to cut one last deal could mean they either had wrapped up their invasion of the Emerald Empire and were turning a hungry eye southwards, or they had met difficulty and now looked to what they hoped would be a softer target.
The previous talks with this Marshal had outlined Matathran's core intent in Vlaanburg. It was the following meetings that were supposed to establish compromises and discuss details, but so far, little consensus was reached - besides the fact Lucien's peers were adamantly against any sort of concession. He understood them - Vlaanburg had been under the yoke of an empire once, and it had cast it off in a bid for independence. Now that it had it, it wasn't a prize it would hand over lightly.
The Elector stepped through a doorway ahead, held open by a pair of guards, and entered the chamber where Electors Marek and Holger were already seated. They turned and gave him a greeting of weary looks and he hurried to his seat with a sheepish gait.
Not some time later, Marshal Fenex Quarnabrand arrived. Despite having been sent as a diplomat, it was clear that his position was one of militant rank, for even his formal ceremonial garb included armor. Brass armor, with pewter and electrum filigree and details, tailored to him and molded to resemble a statue-chiseled physique. He wore a tunic of rich, red silk fabric with golden trimming, and much like Lucien he wore a trailing cape, albeit one of tan coloration and the addition of fur worn over and across the shoulders. The least ostentatious part of his ensemble was his weapon, by all appearances a plain and simple shortsword with a rudimentary wooden sheath.
A wooden sheath with dozens of intentionally made hatch-marks down one side.
The man himself was a human beyond his golden years, with a bald skullcap, but stubbornly continued to grow the rim of hair that remained to him, which fell down in faded grey strands around his dark face, with tell-tale, distinctive orange eyes that betrayed Sun-Elf ancestry somewhere down the line. His motions had a certain trimness to them, the kind of efficiency of motion gained from years of marching in formation for days on end. The left side of his neck was starkly missing shallow chunks from it, which the Marshal used as an ice-breaker with almost everyone he introduced himself to, as Lucien himself had found.
"An Agate unsettled my helmet and scraped a claw a little too close during the war with the councils. I am fortunate it had already spent all of its venom on others from my platoon."
"Electors, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice." He greeted the three as he entered, striding to the opposite side of the rectangular meeting table, stopping just beside his chair without sitting down. "I'll get straight to the point. At the morn of this very week, I received a missive from Marshal Garderome, who was tasked with overseeing one of the armies deployed to engage the border forces of the Emerald Empire. Before anything further is said, I would like to read its contents to you, which I think will prove more helpful than any other way I might summarize matters." He retrieved the aforementioned letter from a long pouch hanging from his belt, a broken wax seal still attached to the top, unfolded it, and read it aloud in a clear and pronounced tone, if perhaps somewhat slower than was strictly necessary.
"Marshal, it pleases me to inform you that the Line of Dreaming Groves along the Emerald-Matathran border are no more. Our siegeworks reduced the entirety of the forests across the whole length to nothing; the soldiery and locals have already taken to referring to the stretch as the Wall of Ash. No serious causualties were sustained during the conflict; the enemy forces concentrated themselves to pierce the heart of the Empress' vanguard and eliminate her in an all-or-nothing charge. They were slaughtered without quarter, and amongst their number were many prominent Emerald Empire figures of note, including Lastern the Magnificent, Lord Enzar, Nyranda the Serpent, and Saberath the Mad. The Fortress of Cher was razed, and not one stone nor branch remains atop the other. The Fortress of Merken, which was protected by a warding spell, suffered a catastrophic arcane mishap, resulting in the entire structure being encased in a solid dome of unmelting ice which refuses to be channeled. Our allies within the forces of Shenra say it is nigh-certain everyone within perished as a result."
Fenex paused for a moment and glanced over the edge of the letter, as if to check the Electors' immediate reactions before carrying on. Marek's thick brows were furrowed, chin resting on his hands. Likewise, Holger's thin lips were tucked in a frown and he crossed his arms in front of his short torso. Both of them were contemplating the ruin Fenex described, Lucien knew. Neither man had been easy to budge, in his lifetime of knowing them. It was clear to them that Fenex was tugging at their fears - that if they refused Matathran, it could be any of them meeting the same fate as Lord Enzar, or Saberath. Marek snorted, drawing Lucien's attention. The taller vampire leaned forward, eyes narrow.
"You do not frighten me, Marshal," he rumbled. "Matathran may have felled some trees, but our roots here in Vlaanburg grow deeper."
"You will find Vlaanburger pikes more resolute than some talking plants," Holger added to the side.
"Gentlemen, please," Lucien sighed. He ran a bony finger along his temple, scowling. "Matathran's action against the Emerald Empire is impressive. Your soldiers are very... thorough. All the same, the Emerald Empire has never had to toil for its very existence until now. We are no strangers to bloodshed here."
"That's right!" Holger chimed in. "In spite of your threats, the electorates will never yield their independence for a foreign whip."
"It is my hope that your exemplary resolves need not be tested." Fenex said curtly, before raising the letter once more and resuming his recitation.
"Our forces are expected to seize Emway, which is only lightly fortified and without supporting Groves, before the week's end. The march along the Northern road is expected to take longer due to campaigns of harassment, but it is nonetheless expected that Dreichport will have been seized before the next full moon has risen. There remains no significant opposition which can halt the advance of our armies within the Glacial Marshes, and our efforts have now been augmented by..." Fenex paused for a moment, then lowered the letter briefly to smile apologetically at the three Electors. "Do Pardon me, Electors, I must omit that brief detail out of discretion." He turned his attention back to the letter. "...and as such, the Emerald Empire is not expected to receive noteworthy reinforcement by way of the Bay of Lights. For these very reasons, the Empress expects to depart the Eastern theater sooner rather than later, and will seek to engage in the Southern theater with due haste. As such, you are hereby advised that you have until the Empress returns to Matathran to secure an accord with the Electorate states of Lichtenburg, Gerlinden, and Brent. Be advised, the brief campaign thus far has permitted the Pyrulen Auxiliaries to hammer out many of the failings and shortfalls of our siege implements and that those positioned at the ready in the Sea of Slate are already in the process of being improved, and this is expected to entail a momentary delay in proceedings even after the Empress arrives. As you are likely well aware however, she will by that point be disinclined to accept any form of concession unless it is already awaiting her upon the moment of her return, and I implore you to not delay in your efforts on account of anything you might hear from other missives you receive."
Fenex then folded the parchment and replaced it in his pouch before finally pulling out his chair at the rectangular chair and seating himself.
"I have already spoken with all three of you regarding the possible sale or assimiliation of your respective provinces. You have all refused my offers, for which I neither blame you nor hold you insensate. Your resolves and your fortitude are to be commended, and none may find any fault with your prior decisions. I have been granted broad and liberal authority to bargain and compromise with you as necessary, and it is here where I implore you to listen carefully. I do not want war between our peoples. I do not desire for our forces to have to clash with each other. I do not desire for Matathran to have to wage war with any of the electorate states, nor to upbraid any of their people. Nobody amongst the Imperial Administration wants to have to fight you. Nobody amongst the Imperial Trident wants to have to fight you. Even the Empress, Andromache herself, has no desire to levy battle against you or your people, nor to spill your blood and raze your holdings. She wills that the land between the mountains and the coast must be hers, but to resort to force of arms is to be our very last resort if all other measures fail." He paused emphatically.
"But if, by the next full moon, we cannot reach an accord - that is what will happen. The time I have spent in your fair and noble states has shown me their inherent worth and value. Your peoples, your noble lines, your culture and ways, all deserve to exist. They are exemplary holdings of civilized society and life, and it would a profound, immeasurable loss if the Empress were forced to reduce every last petty scrap and parcel to ground, slaughtering all who dwell within, tearing down and destroying all in her way before rebulding from nothing as pleases her."
The abrupt turn in Fenex' speech from emploring to overtly menacing had been performed on the head of a pin.
"You compliment, plead and threaten in the same speech," Marek said. "Make up your mind, Marshal. If nobody in Matathran wanted to wage war, then we wouldn't be having this discussion. As it is, your 'empress' simply cannot be content with what she has. How long until she turns her eye to the next prize, all so eager to spill blood - both of her countrymen and her enemies'? We have made it clear earlier that we'd be more than willing to allow Matathran to conduct trade and maritime operations from our ports, giving it access to the sea it so desires. But even this is not enough - our entire provinces must be made into Matathran puppets to sate your empress's thirst." Marek let out a long sigh and laid his hands on the table. "Gerlinden will not relinquish its land."
"Nor will Brent," Holger added. "Andromache, for all this talk of not wanting to wage war, has shown she is all too eager to do so."
Lucien looked to his peers, both of them unyielding. That was no great surprise. He, too, shared their conviction. But the way Fenex had put it - ''...our efforts have now been augmented by..." - left a sour taste. Finally, he looked up and addressed the Marshal.
"Marshal Fenex," you neglect to reveal the nature of your 'trump card,' if you will. I can understand, obviously, from your perspective, but if you're trying to intimidate us, won't you at least try a little harder?"
"You misinterpret me, Elector." Fenex said, not unkindly. "My words are not those of a man seeking to intimidate his enemy. Mine are the words of a desperate man. You have made me...very desparate. What I say is not formulated to threaten or terrorize, what I say is a recitation of the facts as I understand them. One of those facts being that all we need - the only thing we need-" He raised a single finger up in illustration. "Is to deliver some form of accord before the Empress to placate her. Nearly anything will suffice. Which is why we are here. My staff has worked nonstop the last several nights to devise the most conciliatory accord it is within my power to pursue - and it is from there I am willing to negotiate further. I will grant additional concessions atop what has been devised by them, though I imagine it will cost me greatly upon my return for my leniency, if the accord is nonetheless accepted, the personal cost to myself will be..." He paused for a moment, a peculiar look crossing his face. "...satisfactory. So all I ask now, is that you listen."
"The only thing, it seems, that will placate her are the broken bodies of Vlaanburgers and a strip of our land," Lucien said with a grimace. "But go ahead, Marshal. Indulge us." The other electors gave him strange glances, but he answered with a tiny concilatory gesture with his hand, accompanied by a soft clicking sound from his throat and nodded to Fenex. The other vampires' expressions seemed to soften afterwards.
"All of you have said that your people will never willingly know the lash of the whip, that your peoples are united in a multitude of ways and will not be willingly riven. It is possible to accomodate those factors. What I propose is this - rather than a sale or assimilation of your regions, that instead a provisional dual authority is arranged over a period of years we might determine soon, with the eventual goal of regional consignment. It would start simply with the arrival of members of the Imperial Administration who would attend your courts and familiarize themselves with your lands and peoples. Then, it would progress over time. The Administrators would begin assuming official duties and positions. The local lords and nobility, should they choose to remain, would be assignated categorical blood-caste designations suitable for their rank, which would be hereditary in nature, but none of the people would undergo assignation at that time. Invigilators would attend the various townships and cities, instructing the peoples of how their way of life might look in time if they welcome assignation, in preparation of full consignment. This would allow for a natural migration of those amongst your people and your aristocracy to leave with sufficient time to move or otherwise dispose of their assets. Matathran would, naturally, pay for the full worth of a region in recompense. Over time, more of the local rule will be supplanted by the Imperial Administration, and over time, provisional laws of the Empre of Matathran would be enacted, first merely on an observational basis, to only be enforced in actuality upon full consignment. It would even be possible, pending possible discussion between you and the Archon, for each region to retain their status of indepedent states, ruled in fact by either you or suitable replacements under the authority of your blood-caste assignation, even if it would be understood that the laws would be those of Matathran."
"In this way, none who do not wish to live in our ways or to be ruled in our own fashion, will have adequate time to depart and will be given due compensation and recourse for the effort. It would be understood that Matathran would eventually assume control over the consigned regions, however many years the transition might take - a period of time I am prepared to be generous with - and their culture, their way of life, may be preserved. Even your nobility need not fear, for even under the new body of laws they would retain their status and much, if not all, of their influence and power on a hereditary basis."
"That - is the furthest reach of what I am permitted to negotiate. It is from there I am willing to grant additional concessions and compromise - but only if you think you can accept what you have heard. I know that even the thought of pursuing this course might seem repulsive and repugnant to all of you, but I prithee to contemplate the alternative. It is entirely possible your stalwart pikes may dissuade the Empress and our armies. It is entirely possible you could stave us off. It is entirely possible you have nothing to fear of our arms and intentions. But I beseech you now, with the most serious of gravity, to contemplate even if only for the fleetest of moments - that you could be mistaken in this. And I beg you to consider my proposition, if only so that nobody must have to chance even the risk that they might lose everything."
The Marshal sat back in his chair finally, followed by a series of deep inhalations. He had not been breathing in the last few moments as he spoke.
Lucien was silent for a time, stewing in his chair under the gazes of Fenex and his fellow electors. Finally, he spoke.
"So Matathran still takes our lands from us, albeit at a pace of decades. No, I do not see how we can agree to this," he said. Marek and Holger nodded eagerly, but Lucien continued. "Unless Andromache sees fit to grant our electorates imperial immediacy. That is to say, special privileges not due your typical Matathran province. For one, the electorates shall be free from the authority of local Matathran lords and administration, instead under the immediate authority of Andromache herself. We reserve the right to collect our own taxes, conduct our own trade, negotiate international treaties, mint coins, raise soldiery and conduct our own legal proceedings."
Marek gave Lucien an incredulous look, to which the old vampire responded with a barely-preceptible twitch of his hand and that same clicking noise.
"In this way, we - the electors - will continue to govern our provinces without suffocating under your caste system and your invigilators. As you say, it would be a tragedy to lose our 'fair and noble states.' You can understand our reluctance to give them up. Under this imperial immediacy, our electorates shall conduct themselves in Andromache's name, but on Vlaanburger terms. She can draw her banner over us on her maps, for all it's worth. She can send all the ships from our ports as she likes. But this is the only way she will do so."
"Yet you would swear fealty to her and obey her decrees, issued to you independently of the remainder of Matathran?" Fenex inquired.
"Correct," Lucien said, curtly. "No hoops to jump through. No long chains of command. No meddling invigilators. Just Andromache and the Electors."
"And I imagine the threat of breaking your oaths, forswearing her decrees, and revolting would deter her from mandating an analogue to Invigilators locally." Fenex elaborated.
"However she wishes to interpret it," Lucien replied, settling back into his chair. "Now quick - what do you say to the terms? Will you relay this to Matathran or not?"
"I will relay it if you can furnish me with some form of seizen, collateral, or surety that you will obey the Empress in fact, not just in name." Fenex answered. "Given the inherent bias, I cannot present an offer without substance or good faith. And if I am to present an offering of your veracity, it must be of the sort that can convince the Empress, not just me. It need not be egregious - even a token will do, as long as it is dear. You will retain your independence, and that will be assured, but the interests of the Empress authority must be assured their due."
"Rest assured, Marshal, I have something in mind that I hope will please her. I ask your patience while it is... procured, in the meantime. You will have it long before your deadline."
Fenex' entire form seemed to stiffen. "I am not going to inquire after your ambiguity, Elector, but I hope you forgive me for saying that sounds unduly ominous."
A raspy laugh escaped the vampire's lips and set of daggerlike fangs glimmered in the candlelight. "As they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth, Marshal."
The Marshal nodded thoughtfully, once, before standing. "Very well. I understand that you will need to bring this matter before the Archon before finalizing your decision - and I imagine you three are all in agreement upon this matter?" He turned his gaze to Marek and Holger.
The Electors shared a look and Lucien gave them the barest indication of a nod, with a slight quiver of his lip. Slowly the pair of them nodded with slumped shoulders, looking more exhausted than anything. "We are."
Fenex nodded. "Then I suppose we should all retire, for the time being. You are all free to call upon me at any time to pursue further discussion of this matter."
"Likewise," Lucien replied, standing from his seat. "Make yourself comfortable in the meantime, Marshal. Do ask if you need anything." With that, the Electors excused themselves from the room, leaving Fenex behind. As they trailed off, their voices mingled in a sharp, guttural tongue that Fenex did not recognize.
He retreated to his quarters, granted to him during his extended diplomatic visitation in Lichtenburg. There, he called upon several members of his immediate staff, as well as the guards that had accompanied them from Matathran.
"I have a message that must be relayed back to Grand Marshal Guiomar post-haste. There is a significant chance of interception. The contents are not sensitive, but it is nonetheless imperative that at least one copy reaches him - so copies must be sent by multiple runners and bird, and I want all of them to be escorted on their way out of the city." He said snappishly.
He then took a minute to write the message itself.
To Grand Marshal Egil Guiomar of the Imperial Trident, Penned by the hand of Marshal Fenex Qaurnabrand, Envoy to the Vlaanburg Electorate States.
I have secured the promise of a provisional accord with the Electors of Lichtenburg, Gerlinden, and Brent. The accord itself, if formalized, will likely satisfy the Empress'. However, due to its very nature, I am unable to determine whether it is offered with due earnestness. There exists the possibility that the Electors are stalling for time, or mounting a preemptive effort. I advise you to Forbid all non-sanctioned traffic into Matathran from the Electorate states for the time being until more has been discerned, and I further advise you to direct additional eyes and ears to the Imperial-Electorate border. I will contact you again when presented with an adequate rendition of the formal agreement, confirmed by the Archon.
He handed the message over to one of the by-now anxious aides, the assembled party having watched him write with some fervor with a stern expression on his face. "Copy that and get all of them sent." He snapped. They rushed to comply.
Soon, the message departed the city - by bird, an ordinary footman courier, and by a warbreed courier. The guards that accompanied them held aloft a tunnel-lantern in the early dark, and relayed a flash-message to unseen agents outside the city that a communique was being relayed and to expect it, and to inquire if it should not arrive.
Sorry, I don't think I'll be submitting a CS. I was interested in the initial IntCheck, but looking at this now, it's too gamey/tabletop for my taste. I just wanna write.
*So this is it. The Jarls leave this hall just as - or even more - divided than they were when they stepped in.*
Erlender’s head was hung low, hands locked into fists at his sides. He wasn’t sure yet whether the sudden arrival of Daigon was a blessing or a curse. The man seemed all too willing to put the past behind for the good of the Isles. And if his warning of the Salished invasion was true, then it provided the clans ample time to prepare and fortify themselves.
Yet, Daigon’s presence had also sparked old tensions and tempers were running hot. Already, Evar decried the moot and vowed to strike out on his own, with the rest of Vadrunna in tow. The Broken Hammer, too, voiced its recalcitrance in matters of leadership. The clans of the north would go back to their snowy wastes - back to the pale men they so loved to hate. All that left were the central clans, comfortably in the sphere of influence of either the Red Knot, Shattered Moon, and Stonecutters. Or the island clans, not beholden to either the north nor to Varvudda’s reach. These, Erlendr needed to address.
Erlendr watched the Varvuddas, the Broken Hammers and both of their dependent clans leave the hall. Hiding a grimace, he turned to the clans that were still gathered, palms held up in an appeasing gesture.
“Those of you that remain,” he said, “do so because your conviction is true. Varvudda has shown it cares only for itself, and the clans of the north are too thick in the head to look beyond their blizzards and mountains. But you - you remain where others have gone. You have the wisdom to see beyond petty feuds and borders. You know the clans must hold fast, lest they drift apart.”
His next words boomed through the hall. “I will not let this insubordination blind us to the dangers we face. I ask for your support as regent, so that no more treachery turns clan against clan and no day breaks where this kingdom falls!”
Upon hearing his father’s words, Gunni found himself standing, chest puffed, knuckles white as they gripped the rail at his waist. He’d always obeyed his father because he was blood; it was simply the right thing to do. Very seldomly did he feel obligated by a motive greater than Erlendr’s “I told you so’s” to follow and to serve. But something in his father, standing there before the clans at that moment, stirred his heart and his pride. He commanded respect, and Gunni would give his gladly.
Member
Plank Sinatra
