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Ordail
Topic Started: Dec 28 2006, 09:18 PM (2,085 Views)
Lathaon
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Fallen Archmage
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"If you yourself have doubts about bringing your army through the city, then perhaps there is reason enough for that already," Narandar said. "I would welcome the company, but I am not sure what the cityfolk would think. Clearly, from what you have said, relationships must not be perfect. Port-mayor?"

The mayor nodded. "You have a point, Narandar. The war has brought casualties to both sides. A former enemy army marching through here might just stir up some trouble if anyone takes offence."

"There you have it. You should go to the south; that is the quickest way. The flagships of Weissland are normally located to the north."
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Ariakas
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Hound nodded, "We will do that then. Although I will ask of you that a few of the ships are allowed to dock in harbor, and the soldier in it allowed to enter city. The citizens will not feel it much as a threat because the soldiers we bring into there are wounded and weak. We had an encounter with pirates during the journey and I would like these men to rest properly between walls."
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Lathaon
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"I think that would be acceptable, yes," Narandar said. The port-mayor looked irritated.

"When did being some standard bearer - who lost his standard - give you the decision over my city?" he scolded, under his breath. Narandar did not seem to hear, or if he did, he ignored it.

"Do you have healers with you?" he asked.
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Ariakas
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Hound looked uneasily towards the port-mayor before responding, "I have a few people who are capable of tending to them, but only one magical healer. But there's nothing truly critical, they just need some rest. Those who had critical injuries we have lost already."
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Lathaon
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Narandar looked at the port-mayor, who responded with a sigh.

"Very well. I will allow it."
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Ariakas
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Hound smiled and bowed to the man, "You have my thanks."

Then he stroke his chin, deep in thought, before speaking again, "Maybe you can take Morbius here with you when you go to Ataya. I need someone to deliver a message to Ariakas as soon as possible, and as you might understand, I'm afraid I need a Realmer to do it."
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Ariakas
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((BUMP))
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Lathaon
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"Fine."
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Ariakas
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Morbius nodded to Hound, then turned to Narandar. "So when will we go then?"
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Lathaon
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((You already asked that :P ))
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Ariakas
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((Okay, sorry. Can we just leave then, and arrive in Ataya... when?))
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Lathaon
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((I don't know. I'm thinking not as long as it should take because I have taken ages with this :rolleyes: If you work out how long it would take to get from the Great Barracks to Silverton, and add a bit of time onto that, that should be about how far behind we are from the main army.))
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Ariakas
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((So, three-four days only?))

[[Anyway, Narandar and Morbius... any quite likely a few more leaves Ordail?]]

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Ariakas
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A servant knocked on the door of the port mayor and stuck his head in.

"My lord," he said. "Two of Hound's men are here to talk with you."

"Thank you Olec," the port mayor said. "Bring them in. And also, have they gotten all the wounded men into the city and to the facilities I reserved to them?"

"Yes, sir. Their ships have sailed south."

"Good. Now bring them inside," he said as he rose from the chair.

Through the door came Vivien Led and Peter Kradensis.
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Ariakas
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The port mayor smiled as Vivien Led and Peter Kradensis entered through the door. It was a partially forced smile however, he had hoped it would be either Hound himself or that Hound had sent Dedrik Argnar. There was something about Peter Kradensis charisma which made the port mayor quite uncomfortable. And Vivien Led was unnervingly silent, to the point that the port mayor wondered if he could speak at all.

He turned away from his table and walked to the huge window behind him, overlooking the harbor. A small group of guards ran through the street just below his building, most likely pursuing a thief or similar. The port mayor frowned, disliking the fact that even when Weissland was at war criminality was still active in cities such as his. He had just received news on how the situation was too the south. His mage, Landros, had gotten into contact with mage lord Paulin in Daulinen. Ataya had fallen and the Weissland army was retreating north.

The port mayor sighed, turned towards the two Realmers and smiled again. At least he was glad the White Realm had come to their aid, every men would be needed. And Ordail could not send an army.

"How are your men?" he asked, referring to the wounded as well as the few passengers the Realmers had brought into the city. He had not seen them docking, but had heard it was not more than a few hundred.

"They are fine," Peter smiled in response. His voice was weirdly high-pitched for a man," the port mayor thought. Like a girl's voice, although it would be a diplomatic mistake to point it out. He shook his head, why was he thinking of humor now.

"Good. And the rest have made up camp to the south," he asked.

"As we agreed on," Peter nodded. Vivien Led seemed not interested in the discussion, instead looking at a painting on a wall. It depicted a naval battle of grand size. The port mayor loved it, despite Narandar once at a visit pointing out the unnatural amount of ships and lesser tactical formations the forces seemed to use on the painting.

"Very well," the port mayor wanted to move on. "Was there something else?"

"Yes," Peter said. "As soon as Lord Hound arrives."

"What is it he wants then?" the port mayor pressed on impatiently. "I do not have much time, and news of the south has just reached us."

"Yes, we have received the news," Peter nodded as Vivien turned and walked across the room to look at another painting. "Ataya has been crushed and Lathaon Thaendil has fallen. Dark news it is indeed."

"What?" the port mayor gasped, shocked by surprise. "But how? Where did you hear this?"

Peter shrugged, "We have our ways of receving news, and you have yours."

The port mayor blinked once, what was this Realmer getting at. Was he mocking the port mayor of Ordail?

"How did you receive the news?" Peter said, looking intently at the port mayor.

"We have a mage capable of contacting other mages around in Weissland."

"Interesting. I would love to meet this one, where might he be?" Peter asked.

"He has his house across the street," the port mayor said and came around his table. He ranked half a head taller than Peter and looked down at him. "What game are you playing with..." then he froze as he spotted the red color smeared on the clothing on Peters chest, just barely visible in the bad lightning and on the dark clothing.

"Is that... blood on your coat?" he asked in horror.

Peter looked down, and blinked in surprise. "Indeed it is." He looked up and his green eyes met the blue-grey eyes of the port mayor. "I am sorry about the mess. Vivien?"

A sound of metal sounded and the port mayor only managed to take a step back, spot the formerly calm Vivien Led flew towards him in a lightning fast move across the room and lift his arms in an attempt to cover himself against the mans sword. It all happened in an instant, and the last thing the port mayor ever saw was the sight of his own shiny shoes as his head fell towards the floor.
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Ariakas
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Down at the docks a morning fog had blown across the habour, arriving with surprise. The chief of the city watch stood down walked with a small troop of his own soldiers from the sealine up to the barracks.

"Did not see this weather coming, captain" one of his men said.

"It was indeed without notice," the city watch chief responded. "Hopefully it won't last too long. This wet weather makes my back ache."

They reached the barracks where the other troop were supposed to meet them and transfer with them, replacing them in their watch duties.

"Jarl and Avran," the city watch said as he looked around the street, frowning. "Get inside and see if you can find anyone. This is most peculiar."

Only a few seconds later the city watch chief realized his men were surrounded and ordered them to make stand. He cursed the fog, and as the enemy came from the shadows, and the sound of battle sounded they could not hear the screams of Jarl and Avran from inside the barracks.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Opeth sat on his floor, meditating. He was the mage which the port mayor had referred too. He was one of the few mages around in Ortin. Most of them had gone north during the White War, while others had followed the army of Narandar. Many were needed at the south.

Opeth was left because he had the ability to use spell spheres and was able to make contact with mages around in Weissland. That was what he had been trying to do now. He had no problems communicating with the mages around Sirth or Lathor, or mage lord Paulin in Daulinen. But the army of Weissland he could not reach. He was puzzled as to why.

As he opened his eyes from the meditation, he thought he heard noise outside the window. Like the sound of fighting. He stood up and moved towards it, and looked outside. A fog was slowly drifting across the street. He could easily discern it as magical fog. He cast a spell of protection as he moved to his bookshelf. He realized something really dangerous was going around in Ordail.
As he began to pull out some scrolls and potions in his shelf he heard the sound of his door going up. He softly put down his belongings again. Then, as he whispered the words, he cast a spell of divine sight. It gave him the ability to see through walls, but to his surprise he could not see anyone in his house. But there was a presence.

He circled around as he moved towards the entrance, staying alert. It was unnervingly silent. He did not know what to protect himself against.
Suddenly a man leaped at him from behind, throwing Opeth to the ground. Opeth had the air knocked out of his lungs, and was taken completely by surprise. He stood, spoke magical words and let a flurry of magical bolts sprout from his hands. But they hit only air as his opponent moved quicky to either side, fast as a simple blur. Then the foe came towards him, gripped the throat of Opeth and pushed him into the wall.

It was a man, with a rather fair face. He had strong blue eyes which shined unnaturaly strong, and his eyebrows were thick.

"Who are you?" Opeth gasped, the man was crushing his windbone.

"You may call me Vivien Led," the man smiled with teeth more akin to fangs. "Tell that name to the overlords in the afterlife my dear." Then with a quick move Vivien slashed across the throat of Opeth, ending the life of the mage.
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Ariakas
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Peter Kradensis stood in the office of the former Port Mayor, looking out of the window. The "wounded Soldiers of the White Realm" was now in control of the harbour. Reports would be sent to the army that had made camp far to the south-west on the coast, under the leadership of the loyal Dedrik Argnar and Foren Heften. The reports would tell them that the White Realm soldiers, as well as Hound and his officers had been taken prisoners by the Weisslanders. Many would have been killed.

This would of course spur the White Realm soldiers to move north towards Ordail, to the rescue of such an important person like Hound. It would matter little that only a small part of the White Realm army served the Dark Council, when the whole force without knowing served its cause.

Peter turned to see Vivien Led enter through the door.

"The mage is dead," Vivien Led.

"Opeth?" Peter asked. "Good, but what of the others."

"Two of them I also had to deal with. But the others are without concern, their powers are weak. I can smell them easily, soft and weak they are," Vivien Led spoke with disdain.

Peter nodded and returned to looking over the fogcovered harbour in silence. Vivien Led wandered around in the room, once more studying the paintings. That was one of the only two interests that Vivien Led had, art.

Once more someone entered the room. This time it was their leader. The man was covered in richly and luxerious clothing, typical of an ambassador. But still Hound tended to dress more elegantly than the others of the White Council, despite still being far from softer than the rest of the Council.

"Good day, my lord," Peter said. Vivien Led did not turn to see their leader enter, he served the man. But he did not respect him at all.

"The harbour is now completely under our control?" Hound asked. His voice was weird, having a high pitched tune and a slight whistling tone, like that of a snake.

"It is. The mages of importance are dead, and the citizens knows little. The southern gate is ready to fall. We must tread with carefullness however, until our army arrives in a few hours. But they won't change guard duties in a while, and the people of the city is peacefully asleep."

"Good," Hound smiled. Peter was about to turn back to the window, but did not when he realized his leader was changing his appearance. It always managed to interest the mind of Peter. He thought of it as something beautiful as he looked at it.

Slowly Hounds skin began to soften up and crumble. It seemed like it just melted off him, revealing a dark green-grey colour beneath. His hair retreated into his skull, as well as beard and eyebrows. His eyes seemed to roll around in their holes, until they came back up with a completely black side, with two small yellow sinister lights in them. The ears of Hound twisted and turned around in their roots, forming into ears similar to that of bats. His nose shrinked and retreated until it was nothing more than tiny slots, and his mouth grew in size until it was a dark hole. The rest of his body did not change much, except for his hands which gained the same skin colour and his nails turned long and sharp.

His voice changed as well, it was as if he now spoke with two voices. One dark and deep, another light and whistling. This was his true character. His true person.

Peter did not say anything, only nodded when the man, or creature, masquerading as Hound had finished his transformation.

"Rayrn will be here soon," the man spoke with his frightening voice. "Possible before the army of the White Realm even."

"Good," Vivien Led spoke for the first time, turning around. He raised his eyebrows as he saw the effects of the transformation. "Hound was a poor sight. You are prettier now Lord Doman," he simply said.

"It is all good," Doman spoke.
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chadden
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A local peasent, with black hair and clothed in scruffy, black rags, ran to the corpse of the dead mage, Opeth, and called out to the skies, "Demon of The Fall FTW!!!"


((I'm sorry, I could not resist :P ))
"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil.

"It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil.

One of the Last Guardians. Suck it.
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Ariakas
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((Yeah, it was a weak glimpse by me, I needed a name right there and then and spotted a CD-cover. Terrible mistake :lol: ))
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chadden
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In the upper chambers of an inn near the coast, Seekers stood in good number. Under the command of Xazkil, one of Mordain's most brutal Seeker officers, close to thirty Seekers had taken up residence in the inn. There was a Shadow Mage with Xazkil, too; a woman by the name of Moyra. Unknown to most, Mordain had left these Seekers in Ordail to watch over the coast. The Mage of Shadows still had his doubts about the Realmers, although he would never admit it.

Xazkil, Moyra and two other Seekers were in one of the rooms. Xazkil was sat at the table, reading over a map of Weissland and positioning small models to represent the different forces that currently moved across the land. Moyra was at the window.

"This fog is nothing normal, Xazkil." she said.

"Yes, it's a thick fog. That's what we get for being on the coast." replied the officer, not raising his head from the map.

Moyra shook her head. "No, I mean it is not born of nature."

This drew Xazkil's attention; he turned to her slowly.

"Someone, or something, has summoned this fog." continued the mage.

Quickly, Xazkil looked to the two Seeker guards. "Move out into the city; see if anything is out of the ordinary. But keep yourselves hidden, and don't let anyone see you leave this inn. If enemies are at work then we don't need them to learn of our location." He looked at the window, too. "And have all the doors and windows locked, and the curtains pulled."

The Seekers bowed and left the room to carry out their work.

The inn was tall. Xazkil and Moyra were on the fourth floor, and from here they could see over much of the city. But that was no good with the fog in place...

"Can you clear this fog?" asked the officer.

"Not without revealing our location. We will have to wait, sir."
"Stand against me if you must, for of course you will. Conflict is just another part of this flawed reality. You need to cling to your concepts and purposes, your feeble honour and glory. None of it serves any purpose in the end. And the end draws close." - Krodalis Thaendil.

"It really is amazing; she killed Kelan Wealer, not that I am complaining, but then the order welcomed her as their new leader. It makes one wonder if I were to ram a blade down her throat, would the monks then follow my commands?" - Mordain Thaendil.

One of the Last Guardians. Suck it.
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