Fantasy Egregore

[Asa Loko]

All of you, who see the good within people and possess such a thing as compassion for others, come and gather.
The time has come where one blade alone cannot shoulder anymore the fate of those we swore to protect.
If you believe, that balance and peace cannot be restored by itself anymore, then join our cause.
On the evening of the first full moon of the fifth month.
Head to where the ever-moving birds and horses rest and drink.
Signed by the leader of Egregore.

​

Somewhere in the outskirts of the kingdom Logosta, a special gathering was coming together in secret. Men and women from all around the globe, sharing a common trait. The profession of being a famed warrior. Mostly mercenaries and soldiers, but there were also adventurers from all around the globe invited.

Here, the pogroms against the non-human races in the kingdom were still far away. It would have been too much of a loss to the city if all tradings with it stopped due to the outbreak of violence. Pushing the hand that feeds you away was never a wise decision. Nonetheless, tensions within the town could be felt.

It was a big inn, that was chosen for the meeting. Right in the middle of the town Abreuvoir, which was close to the border with the Empire of Diadochia. Usually, business would have gone well tonight. Merchants traveling by carts and horse or travelers in general by foot were often found in this place. However, this evening the inn was completely reserved for "only invited guests". A list of several people, but their names were unknown for everyone but the people that invited them. And the bulky, two-meter tall bald bouncer called Boris at the front door, who held a note with the names on it. An unreadable mess, that only he could read, given he had no real education or whatsoever and wrote the words down in a way they were pronounced. Basically gibberish for anyone but him.

Inside it nothing special was going on yet. Candles on top of the chandeliers above the tables were lit. A bright fire was burning in the middle of the inn, right behind the counter where also the kitchen was. A grit beneath a pot filled with soup. All sorts of ingredients were hanging by the cupboards, simply attached by a small wire and a nail. The cook - and at the same time barkeeper - was currently cooking a stew and threw in vegetables he cut into small pieces on a cutting board.

The one table, that stood out in the night empty hall room, was a round table. It was slightly bigger than the others and was moved into the center of the customers' area with plenty of free room around it. The only person sitting there was a female wearing a conical rice hat. The piece of clothing covering up the face, but not the casual eastern clothing and sheathed swords tangling at her hip. Neither the lamellar armor protecting her left arm, chest and upper thighs. Was this the so-called leader of Egregore? Who knew.

People passed the tavern building, wondering why the windows were closed even if it was "only" reserved. But every now and then someone moved towards the entrance, revealed their name to Boris and were thus granted entrance to the special gathering. Given they were on the list and Boris didn't get the name wrong. Who was going to appear at this fateful meeting tonight?

theYungNicopernicus

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

An entourage of four cloaked individuals approached the inn’s bouncer contemplatively, one spear heading the group with an individual behind, two stragglers strayed further still from the leaders in order to keep aware of any suspicious activity which may arise. They drew their covers tight so as not to reveal their faces in the moonlight, they kept balance in the shadows so as to remove any unnecessary factors from extending into their personal spheres. The leader announced in a delicately firm voice,

“Galen Morrow, Wolf of the Sands, leader of the slave uprising during the 2nd Shakarian Invasion holds audience to those who request his presence. Allow us passage, doorman.”

Boris never was the sharpest tool in the shed, rather the opposite, and to his surprise the announcement of such an acclaimed war hero brought three questions to his mind, the most pressing being,

“If tis true, the Wolf be before me, I oughta hear the whiskers of the grizzled dog, and instead my ears hear a maiden’s tongue! Who it be who speaks for those of the title?”

A quick step, almost like a leap for the smaller body which strayed behind Morrow and his announcer, and a knife was quickly thrusted to the throat of the bouncer, one of the flanking men grabbed an ear and yanked Boris’ head to the side, to allow the doorman discrete whispers.

“These are strange times,” the obvious guard hissed, “and many would do well to keep their business to themselves, doorman. Your guests have expected us, Morrow’s name is on the list. Keep to your post and make sure no one eavesdrops, or the blade now pressed against your skin will find home between your flesh."

The second flanker stepped behind the bouncer and caught him from falling when the first shoved him away. Boris would’ve fallen straight on his back had it not been for the childlike grin which beamed down from under the cloak as his shoulders were latched onto with ferocity unexpected from a body which seemed a meter shorter, and lankier than himself.

“Apologies for the rudeness mister! My companion here likes to put on a show when he’s angry, and the road ain’t treated us right for damn near two weeks! We’ve been itching for some fire and a bed, so please forgive the attitude! Up you go now!” said the smaller companion as he pushed the bouncer back onto his feet.

Before the assailed could retain grasp of what happened, the party of cloaked individuals stepped their way through the door into the warmth of a place long familiar. The only person who hadn’t spoken stepped past the other three, drawing back his hood to reveal the face of a man chiseled by war in his prime, aged with scars which defined stories of long ago. Steel grey hair matted into dreadlocks framed a bushy white beard, unkept from travel. Blue eyes the color of a sunny day fixated upon the stranger who sat alone in the middle of the inn, his crooked nose giving a sniff towards the odors which hung in the air.

“It’s been a century or so since I’ve stepped foot in Abreuvoir, two since I’ve smelt the air of Heikō drift upon our western shores. What brings an agent of the Land of Eternal Balance to Logosta’s doorstep?”

 

[Asa Loko]

The cook and barkeeper raised his head. Simultaneously he moved his gaze from the carrots he was cutting into small pieces over to Galen and his companions. He raised his voice the closer they got. "Ya gon'a be drinkin' or eatin' somethin' tonite? It's on'er tab", he then pointed towards the lonesome warrior at the round table.

"Strange time bring upon the strangest of meetings, wolf of the sands", the eastern warrior spoke in the common tongue as she replied to the man. Her armored red arm moved up, the hand gripping the side of the conical hat to raise it and reveal her person. Long, straight white hair, two crimson red horns that were growing out of her forehead and the piercing gaze of two irises resembling that of a wild animal's. Them being in the same color as the sharp pointed horns.

All of these being the characteristics of an Oni, a mystical creature from the eastern lands of Heikō. A race consisting of beings that would have been described best as demons, given they were far relatives of these beings. But at the same time, they were different in nature. While demons were more on the brute side, Onis were the opposite. Instead of bringing destruction, they protected. A demon could be banished with its name, an Oni was bound to someone or something with it. The looks, however, stayed mostly the same. Menacing and inhumane.

And this one certain Oni was said to be hundreds of years old already. A guardian of the imperial family of Heikō. Publicly known as such, but yet she was to be found in the middle of an uprising race war in a land far away from home. Truly a strange thing, just like the woman had said a moment ago.

She tilted the face, that was adorned by several markings on her cheeks right beneath her eyes. Just like the old jackal, she also bore the faint memories of war on her face, that didn't age a single bit in these past centuries. A single blade scar at the left side of her mouth and another cut at the corner of her right eye. "Come. Sit and rest. I picked up your exchange of words at the door. You must be tired after the long journey", she raised her right, uncovered arm and pointed at one of the empty chairs without looking at it. Instead, she kept staring at the group of four.

The door opened behind them once again. A lycantrophe, barely fitting through the wooden door, stepped inside. Followed by a few other of his pack. All of them being armed to the teeth and even with their strong muscles and fur, that was more resistant towards blade, they clad their bodies in pieces of plate armor. Their pack leader was known as Kodlak Whitemane. A werewolf with a white mane, while the rest of his old body was covered in black fur and fleshy scars where no hair was growing anymore.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Morrow raised a brow at the entourage which smelt to him of flesh freshly feasted upon. He eyed the suspicious characters with a soldier’s weariness, he procured a pipe and some herb from a cloth sack tied to his belt, and prepared for a smoke. Taking the stranger up on her offer of a seat, he motioned for the other three to follow suit, the angry companion dragging a chair close to the entrance, he kept his cloak on and face hidden, while the shortest of the three undid his cloak and outer travel garments to reveal his halfling nature. Brown hair cut at shoulder's length was stretched back in a ponytail, a roguishly handsome face plainly shown with boyish charm made him seem a child. The fellow was lithe, carefree, graceful. Dropping three cloth knapsacks and a variety of other, lesser baggage he’d carried snugly between different layers of clothing, it seemed almost as if the kinder would strip down to the bone now that they were inside.

“Barkeep I need two frothy pints of Amadara’s finest, Beluvian ale deep from the dwarven reaches pronto! What’s on the menu for dinner, and if I may, what’s on the menu for breakfast tomorrow?!” the halfling spoke quick, and the graceful movements from the tiny legs had him behind the counter and in the kitchen before anyone could stop him, little hands looking for anything not tied down.

The woman with them couldn’t take her eyes off the demon, transfixed by a species never before seen in her life.

“Father, I’ve never seen this kind of… Troll before, uniquely beautiful unlike her grotesque brethren, I must say… Where was it you said she hailed from?” the woman asked as she undid her hood, dropping a large pack with many locked buckles for every compartment. Her words carried across the air dreamily, carried across lazily as if the speaker in trance. Her hair fell forth in black dreads which barely hid the two pointed ears which poked from beneath their domain. Mulatto skin framed blue eyes which sat atop a softly refined, downward pointed nose also sniffing towards the lycanthrope interlopers, yet her marveling had her transfixed on the exotic specimen across from her, one her tomes and codexes had failed to mention.

Galen drew a seat at the table across from the Oni, his pipe perched firmly between cracked lips. The man had on worn brown traveling gloves which he threw onto the table, fumbling around between different bags on his belt.

“Blast it, I’ve seem to have lost my tinder box. Mathriti, be a dear and light an old man’s pipe.” to which he held it out for her. The dark skinned elf placed the mouthpiece between her lips and her nostrils flared, a plume of smoke rose out the two chambers before a third wisp began to drift from the apparatus. She handed it back to her father, whose eyes shifted between the oni and the lycanthropes.

“Is this all who is expected to be in attendance?” the old man asked gruffly, blowing a plume of smoke into the Oni’s face.

 

[Asa Loko]

"Get ya' damn ass outta my kitchen or ya'll be part of da damn menu, friggin' bugger!", the bearded cook raised the soup ladle and waved around with it as if it was a deadly weapon. Meanwhile, the scent of the stew started to fill the inside of the tavern. The smell of a gentle and well-seasoned broth, but also meat and several vegetables. "Ya damn drinks will be filled, but I only got da brew from the twin mountains"

Something that fitted the tastes of the lycantrophes very well. With a pleasant panting, the pack leader of the werewolves sat down at the round table. Keeping the same distance to both the jackal and the strange demon. The others of his pack simply leaned against the counter like a bunch of mercenaries.

"Greetings", Kodlak then spoke in a respectful tone. The sheathed longsword at his side was taken down and leaned against the table, as he sat there with his tall physique, that made most mortals stand in awe. Especially the grey-white fur that has grown for the past century and endured the crusades of Logosta against Diadochia a few decades ago. He was one of the few ones leading the vanguard during the wars. A werewolf on all his paws with a sword in his mouth was a danger that many chariot bowmen underestimated back then.

"This troll here prefers to be called an ogre if anything but my kind's real name. It is the closest your continent can offer to compare to the likes of me", the demon-like being replied in a bemused manner when she lowered her stretched out limb with the countless tattoos drawn with ink into her skin.

"No, I am expecting at least a few more", she then turned her attention from the girl over to her father. Remaining unfazed by the cloud of smoke that crashed into her face and dispersed into different directions. She didn't even blink, which made her seem even more inhuman. "Quite the band of companions you have there, sandwolf.", the demon commented with a short smile where she showed the white teeth and dangerously sharp canines for a moment.

Steps could be heard from outside. Another invited guest?

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

The kinder threw a tomato at the cook before vanishing underneath tables in the kitchen, the halfling kind hard pressed not to cause commotion in spirited manner. They also had a surprising knack for remaining unseen, whether by accident or by good measure, and this one was no different!

“The Twin Mountains water tastes like piss from the spigot of a dog, better luck finding better taste off the dew these mongrels carry in between their dribbling gullets! No offense to ya flea baskets, to compare yourselves to the absolute crime against life itself that is, Twin Mountains brewing!” he chortled to himself in glee at the jests and humor the speaker deemed in his mind the wittiest, as the kinder filled himself a mug from behind the bar and after seemingly vanishing popped up amidst the group at the bar. “You fellas must be the brains behind the group, I can tell you guys are some real philosopher types, I wonder what it is you think of law and the practice, ‘specially in this day n’ age! Were you soldiers in the war? What do you do now? Why’d you decide to come all the way out here for, on the whim of a letter? You think this is the right place to be talking business like this, ‘specially with what we are? How long does it take you to bathe? Must not be long cause I can smell you easy, and that’s your specialty! ...” Another unforgettable mannerism of the kinfolk were their notoriety at constant chatter, no matter the company. Even in the face of unspeakable horror by some malignant spirit, kinder would chastise the fiend for dirty looks or some other reason. The remarkable creatures never felt fear, especially not this one now, even surrounded by fearsome beasts which stood as men.

Galen’s hand dipped into the side of his cloak, before procuring an emerald stone which sparkled in the dim lit light cast by the hearth. With a flick of the wrist the stone reached the back of the halfling’s head, the mug in the little man’s hands crashed to the floor as ten little fingers grasped for the shiny object. Large eyes shimmered and reflected that which their hands held, the kinder oblivious to anything in the world but this, his words trailing off to be absorbed by the emerald’s presence. Galen watched his companion a moment longer.

“That should quiet Baleworth, and keep all valuables safe for an hour or so!” Galen let out a remarkably hearty laugh, dissociated from the grim mood he held before. He would nod to the pack leader as he sat, studying the man a moment as thick tendrils wrapped their slithering tendons around Galen, his shoulders dropping as he relaxed. The old man’s feet crossed and the creases in his worn skin deepened as he felt the feint embers of deja vu.

“Have we met before? I’m sure I recognize you from somewhere.” Galen said to the apex of the pack. Before any response could be made by the wolf, the door crashed open and two stalwart individuals of height rivaling the bouncer’s walked through, two bodies of proportions to that of hard labor, muscles clearly defined and written through the blood and sinew told these bodies were those of orcs, a musky odor wafted through overpowering any scent of food or drink in the near vicinity to them. Galen immediately rose to his feet and greeted the first of the group with open arms, he embraced the individual who stood nearly a head and a half above himself. Thick branches called arms enveloped the old man as the orc yelled,

“Hyena, it has been too long since I’ve heard the yelps of your laughter! We meet again in colder climate, although I wish these circumstances brought us to the sloping dunes of Amun-Ra, my son and I unable to adjust to these winds and flurries of the ice-dust. Still, it is good to see you old friend! Oh how a day doesn’t go by that I not remember of the deception pulled on our captors! When we rode out of Serapa I had worried it would be the last of our tale, it warms my heart to see you again, even as chilled to the bone as I am.”

“Aaah Grommash Silvertongue, a sight for sore eyes! It has been long since I’ve heard another speak the word hyena! Where we are now, they’ve never seen such a beast, so they merely call me Wolf of the Sands instead!” The two laughed boisterously. The orc had a genial nature about him, well spoken for his kind, his attention only fixated upon the old man. The smaller, cloaked orc closed the door and stepped towards the shadowy figure near which leaned further away from him to avoid the smell. The orc would pull a chair near the cloaked individual, who would huff in annoyance before drawing his chair to the other side of the door, right behind where it would open. Shrugging at any unknown disturbance the smaller one thought he may have caused, the young greenskin would rummage through a simple cloth rucksack of his own, finding a book that he would open and stick his nose into, much to the surprise of the shadowy figure opposite to him, as well as Mathriti, who would inquire further on the name and subject of the tome by sidling next to the orc. Galen seemed not to notice anything peculiar and drew his friend over to the table at which the Oni and the werewolf sat. The two strangers would notice the giant mohawk atop a sloping forehead and sunken eyes, rows of sharp teeth framed by two large tusks which jutted out from either side of his bottom jaw, the orc peering suspiciously at the oni, his nose used to the smell of wolves.

“Hyena...” the orc grumbled slowly as the old man sat in front of the oni, besides the lycan. “What’s a brethren of the tribes across the sea doing in these lands? A north eastern wind brings with it the whispers of demons, I am uneasy of the company you keep...” the orc said forthright, suspicious of the intent of that which he faced.

Galen waved off the orc’s suspicions by motioning to the seat across from Kodlak, next to the oni, and when he saw the orc wouldn’t take it he switched. The orc tentatively sat where Morrow did, and Galen passed the pipe to the old friend who accepted.

“I’ve never met the eastern orc,” Galen said to Grom, “and I believe she was going to tell me her name and reasons before you interrupted...”

 

[Asa Loko]

The tomato splashed against the cook's back of the head, leaving behind half a tomato and a huge red mark with the fruit's nectar all over his head. As a reaction, he turned around and started wildly hitting around with his ladle for the soup. He may have hit nothing, but it was no reason for him to continue. "I'll shank yar damn ass, ya half-shit!", the cook yelled in a furious manner, while he fought like a warrior against the kitchen cupboards.

The lycanthrope mercenaries glanced at each other during the waterfall of questions the halfling gave them before Baleworth got distracted with the gem from Galen. "Thank you", one of the wolves on two legs simply nodded at the gesture. They may have seemed unfazed on the inside, but the annoyance in them grew further with each stupid question he spouted out.

"If you fought during the crusades from Logosta, then maybe, old man", the elderly alpha wolf calmly and cautiously replied while Galen was talking this friend. He had no problem with not being heard since he didn't care all too much about former history. Wolves lived in the now and with their mercenary nature, they barely ever cared about many things. Truly a miracle, that they showed up here in the first place. "Cook, stew and ale for me and my men, please", he ordered and turned his snout sideways as he spoke.

The Oni in the meantime simply continued staring with her piercing and everlasting gaze. She observed the interaction between the two before both sat back down at the round table. "This eastern orc would prefer to be called an eastern ogre unless you would pick the word choice of Oni over everything", she shrugged and blinked for the first time in minutes. A mere blink that lasted for less than a split second. "I thought of waiting until the start of the night before we discuss any details regarding who we are and what we want to do", she calmly informed and turned her head towards the cook. "Tea for me please", was the sole thing she ordered.

The cook in the meantime had calmed down and filled bowls with step and glasses with drinks. First, the Wolfpack at the counter was served given how close they were. Right after that he arrived at the round table and would have also delivered the order from Galen and Grommash if they plant to give one.

In the meantime, more and more guests arrived. Some hoplites from Diadochia lead by the famous "demi-god" Theseus and his antigonide squad. Men he fought alongside in his epic battle against the Hydra, that was terrorizing the shores of their homelands and Heikō. The very young and charismatic leader with his short curly hair sat down and smiled towards the other members at the table. Especially the women with a more gentle and friendly smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you all here tonight", he added at the end with a nod.

Even a small band of knights with different coats of arms arrived at the inn. Their chainmail rustling with each step they made until their leader Balian the holy sat down at the table and nodded. A man, that was a relic of older times when Logosta tried to fund new villages in Shakari's unpopulated areas. It was really rare for warriors of Logosta to live for so long. Wrinkles and scars were all over his sleepy-looking face.

And among the last arrivals was a fragile-looking arch mage girl, simply sitting down quietly at the last remaining chair while the rest were filled with several other mercenaries, adventures and known personalities from past wars and calamities indebted to monsters from all around the world of Amadara.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Galen Morrow continued to puff on his pipe in relaxed posture as he recrossed his legs under the chair, leaning back on the two hind legs of the chair. Grommash sniffed towards the group and occasionally motioned for the pipe to be passed, the orc eyeing the Diadochians with reproach and disdain, he licked his tusks in anticipation, he tensed up and sat stiff and straight, both hands on his knees. The orc had on tight clothes, leather by the looks, as if skinned from the hide of some animal, the fur a wash of splashes of creamy white and caramel brown, he left a few knives slung in sheaths on his belt, as well as an axe being slung from the side.
Galen's brown cloak hid his body from underneath, the hilt of a blade barely protruded the recesses of his person. Mathriti grabbed a chair close to the hearth, letting the flames heat radiate across her back as she turned to face the group, her face consumed by shadow. Baleworth kept rolling the emerald in the palm of his hand quietly, he studied the groups which arrived. A sleeve or two was tugged with the impertinent question, when Baleworth saw the mage girl he popped up from behind her chair and asked,

"Excuse me miss, but what's a girl like you doing in a meeting like this? If ya ask me I think you need a bodyguard, I'm running rates for two fifty an hour, but for a sweetheart I can do a hundred." He gave her a dramatic wink followed by a cheeky grin, draping an arm over her shoulders,his hand searching for any valuables of its own accord, the other fumbling with the emerald. He held it up in front of her to have it reflect the light of the flames burning around them.

"This beauty reminds me of you, what's your name miss?"

The man behind the door shook his head at Baleworth and crossed his arms over his chest.

When the oni spoke of her racial heritage, Galen nodded.

"Yes, I've seen one of your kind before. Truly a grave time when the likes of you show, too. Tell me, Oni, Do you have a name?"

The son of Grommash lifted his head from the book and gave his own inquisitive stare, husks smaller than the father's chewed on the upper lip, intense concentration filled wide eyes and flared nostrils huffed. He knew of such creatures, told in old den mother's tales to scare children. The arrival of such spirits meant ill omen for the tribes, droughts in the oases, famine in the food chain. Like a wisp of the smoke his father blew out in excess, the spirits hid a truth in the suffering they led the land to endure. In orc tongue, he said to Grommash,

"Father, the soothsayer's dream."

Grommash nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving the hoplite helms embedded in view.

When Balien sat, Galen extended a hand towards the knight, wrinkled yet solid, time's calendar marked by struggle and strengthened resolve.

"I see the years have been more graceful to you than I, Sir Knight."

 

[Asa Loko]

Upon the touch of the girl's shoulder, Baleworth would feel a strange cold coming from the female's body. It was like touching a block of ice. "My, quite the charming halfling, aren't you?", her eyes with the strong glowing purple formed to squints. "But the last thing I need right now is protection. But what about you? Do you need something? Maybe a blessing? Or a curse?", she sharpened her lips and gave him a mischievous smile before her attention moved back to the barkeeper bringing more and more drinks to the table.

"No need to tense up, orc. We are not on the battlefield here, are we? Let us act like civilized beings, not animals. Right?", the self-proclaimed demi-god Theseus smirked over to Grommash and drank from his cup of wine. He placed his right palm on the sturdy hoplite helmet bound to his side when he wasn't wearing it. "A tavern may be a perfect place to fight with words, but not with violence. Am I right, Platon?", he leaned back and got a nod of confirmation from one of the antigonides.

Balian looked over to Galen with the droopy eyes and reached out for his hand to shake it with what little strength the simple, old man had. "I have long reached my peak, friend. I can barely call myself a knight nowadays. Rather a walking corpse", he spoke in an amused tone and smiled cheerfully. "I have to admit, it is odd seeing you here. But then again, I didn't know what to expect from this meeting to begin with", he got quieter towards the end of his sentence.

"I am not the foreboding sign of your future grave times, orc. But I am one of its consequences", the Oni replied with an expressionless face, as she stood up. "I see that most of the invited guests have shown up here. A pleasant surprise to say the least", she added and stretched her arms out for a welcoming gesture. One limb covered in ink from tattoos. The other clad in lamellar armor, chainmail and thick leather like some shield. "Feel welcome, be at ease and fulfill your desires for food and drink. It is on us", she spoke.

The lycantrophes at the bar turned around to look towards the round table. Just like the noble knights of Balian and hoplites. Among all the present were also some men that looked like sailors. Privateers or pirates maybe.

"I think it is time to begin. Or is anyone of you missing somebody?", the demon-like female asked with a cautious tone as she glanced to the arch mage at their table.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Grommash slammed a fist on the table and stood up abruptly.

"To hell with the likes of you, half-breed! Slaughtered innocents stain your dainty hands, those who stood helpless against your kind! Tribes of the desert swallowed whole by the doctrined imperfection you Diodachians profess to be the One True Path, women and children not even of orc kin alone starved by wretched commandments given to you 'from the Gods!'" The orc scoffed at the group and stepped forward as if to attack, Galen shook his head but kept his posture as it were. "It is no wonder your own offspring rebelled from you, left your cradle of death cults to follow their own path!" the orc yelled. Grommash's son closed the book and set it atop his pack, he undid his travelling cloak to reveal similar clothing and arms as his father, instead of an axe however a small crossbow holstered at the side, taking up armaments and cocking back the lever in case of immediate use.

Galen listened quietly yet when the last sentence was spoken intervened."We Logostan's hold fundamental differences in our belief of the All, a matter that was refuted by the high priests of Horus two centuries ago... When the last Oni graced us with its presence... After this event horizon the only option for any man unwilling to hold the beliefs of the theocratic government was to leave... They did not rebel."

Grommash huffed in anger as Galen packed another pipe, this time picking through his orcish friend's pack for a moment before finding a tinder box.

"Let it be clear, this is of neutral territory Grommash. Your kind are feared and loathed by many who've established themselves in the area... For the same reasons you loath our friend here. While I hold similar mistrust towards those who force their beliefs on others, with threat of death, he knows the laws by which he is bound. Don't break them so that he may have free reign to attempt your demise. The struggle of all our people was the conquering and deceit of opposing factions, let us let go of our territorial ties a moment to address the grave omen we have before us... The same omen which called the birth of Logosta, by which you claim supreme knowledge of." Galen Morrow lit the contents of the pipe with a match, puffing out more smoke like a chimney stack, blowing it in the direction of the enraged orc. "Come, smoke a bowl of your favorite, it is green growth from the sacred Fayium oasis."

Grommash waited a moment longer while the rest of the room tensed in apprehension, the orc leaving a hand on the hilt of his axe as his feet stood apart in readied stance. The hooded one sitting behind the door made movement to position himself behind the Diodachians group, yet clung to the edges of darkness the candles and hearth-fire were unable to reach. Mathriti sat forward a bit but didn't move otherwise, motioning for the barkeep to bring her something to eat.

Baleworth noted the strange sensations which emanated from the woman, yet his thieving left hand continued to search for valuables unaware, as his emerald began to glow a bit, a brighter green filling the middle of the jewel.

"An interesting thing to say, miss!" Baleworth looked over and fixated on the purple eyes, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. "Let's say we take this back to the bedroom after, I can show you a couple blessings and curses I got up my sleeve as well!" He gave her a wet kiss on the cheek and disappeared from her side to conjure himself up behind the bar, filling another mug from the tap and downing it in one gulp. Disgust filled his face as he stuck his tongue out at the innkeeper. "You probably don't get many customers with this, buddy! I'm just trying to help you out here, the misses over there won't be drinking any piss ale such as this! Get a nice cask of Beluvian Reach's, you'll taste the difference in the water they collect from the stalagmites in the dwarven caverns immediately! Expensive as it may be, it's well worth it for a full house!"

As Baleworth commented on the lackluster ale, the door to the inn opened slightly, seven stout individuals a meter and a half in height paraded through pushing aside anyone in their path as they made their way to the table. Long, coarse beards swayed from side to side with their waddle, chainmail and plated armor singing the tune of a soldier's march. Six guards surrounded the seventh, the middle of the envoy sporting a beard of snow white, unlike the others which ranged from deep mahogany to solid brown. The guards themselves wore hoods, their liege a crown, ornate and glimmering gold with a large opal atop the middle of the headpiece, rubies surrounding it. The gold which encrusted such rocks was engraved in ancient writings, on the side of the band were the faces of past kings which resided before the current. The leader of the band stepped forth in front of Grommash with disregard to the predicament, pushing the orc aside who moved to smack the impudent soul before sniffing the smell of faiyum herb. The orc begrudgingly sat back down at the table, still staring at Theseus as he puffed on relaxation. The lead of the group proclaimed,

"I announce the presence of King Marudan Ironhammer, Lord of the Great Deep. He answers the call of mystery by which-"

"For the love of skies move out the way boy, we're above ground, not in the counsel chambers! Move aside to let an old man sit." The king pushed through his men who abruptly followed him to the last remaining seat at the table. All of them held warhammers at the ready in the right hand, bucklers on the left. Baleworth immediately appeared by the King's side, giving him a hug. One of the guard's men moved to swing on the halfling until another one raised their shield to stop him.

"Maaaaruuuuu! Thank the Gods you're here! Tell me you've some Beluvian Ale with you, I was just educating our innkeep on the wonderful qualities the brew possessed, his idiotic thinking was to go to the Twin Mountains for cheap trash! Help me convince the man, I think he'll take a King's suggestion!" The kinder snuggled into the King's beard, his face buried in the thick strands. The King patted Baleworth's back and nodded to Galen, who gave a slight nod in return.

"I'm afraid not, old friend. Our contact with the outside world is limited, as you know. Word of this meeting arrived late and we had to travel at half provisions in order to make up for the lost time. I'm sure you'll be gracing our halls with your presence soon enough, Baleworth, worry not old friend." Baleworth pouted and let go of the king, moving back behind the bar to take another drink. The king took stock of the individuals who held seats at the table. He sat between Grommash and Galen, snatching the pipe from Grommash as he passed it to Morrow. He nodded to the Knight solemnly while giving no reaction towards Theseus, and when he held his gaze upon the oni he sighed.

"My scouts report dwarven merchants beheaded above ground, troops amassing near our peaks forcing us to close off the main roads into the mountains... Our forges grow cold as the great river of magma cools... So then, a mysterious meeting is called amidst the beginnings of internal strife... Remember when your people asked for our aid Galen? There was one of these oni there then too... Now I regret my decisions made that day..." The king's head dropped as he heaved another breath, shoulders drooping and his eyes closed. "My own son... who I sent as the dwarven ambassador to Ethoria... was made an example by those who had no reason to do so..." His face picked back up as the skin around his eyes tightened, glaring at the oni before him. "Every age of strife your kind make there way to the forefront of our destinies... I am at the end of my years with no heir to the throne, I can't help but blame such circumstances on your brethren... given I was duly convinced to help the same people whose destroyed my lineage, by your predecessor's guile... What help do you seek to offer us now, in such dire times?" the king asked sarcastically, crow's feet deepening as his focus was claimed by the horned demon.

 

[Asa Loko]

"Barking like some sort of animal. How fitting for one of your kind", the self-proclaimed demigod also abruptly stood up. Simply kicking the chair behind himself away, as he gracefully held onto the cup of wine in his hand. The antigonides simply rolled their shoulders, as they expected a fight to erupt among the factions. However, the situation got quickly defused by Galen. In response, Theseus raised his cup with wine. "Wisely spoken, old man. Your tongue is as sharp as your sword, I assume", the diadochian spoke with the smugness nearly leaking his facial expression. As fast as he had stood up, he also sat back down onto the chair one of his men brought back to him. "Now if we may continue this meeting, I am growing tired of politics and history. Instead, I thirst for the battle!", he raised his free hand. Showing a faint spark of electricity, as if he was the God of Thunder himself.

"If you won't get your dirty paws of my body and stop searching for goods like a filthy goblin, then you won't be in need of any sort of limb anymore. Begone, halfling", the mage sharply whispered. A faint glow around her eyes appeared as a foreboding sight. There even was a short gust of wind, that blew out some candles around her and the halfling. A foreboding sign of an incoming calamity: The unbending rage of a woman capable of tearing down walls with magic.

Meanwhile, the barkeep went around, serving customers and even brought some food to Mathriti. Stew with the same ale Baleworth complained about a second later. "Fuck off ya damn bugger. Your tastebuds must be used to goddamn cowpiss, if you praise the drinks of those incestuous bastards from the mountains as if it's some sort of wonder water!", the man with the big belly replied with his middle finger to the halfling, while returning back to the kitchen.

Upon the arrival of the dwarven king, the different faction leaders looked up and furrowed an eyebrow. But the Oni remained completely unfazed by the circumstances. Even after completely hearing the dwarf out from his rambling. "You seem to lack the simple understanding of something, old king of the mountains. My kind is not what you make them up to be. Deceiving? Never, as we are forbidden to commit such deeds. Omenbringers? I beg to differ, we merely act as the Emperor's and Empress' blades and eyes. If it wouldn't be for the fact that my Empress chose to protect this world, I wouldn't be here. Neither my brethren and sisters, who traveled the wild seas in the past to come and aid you in your messy conflicts. But things are the way they are, thus I give whole existence to fulfill my task. Logosta is on the move. You speak of it yourself, mountain-king. Dwarves are currently being hunted down for apparently no real reason. But the reality looks more obvious than a piece of paper reporting troop movements and casualties", she made a short, dramatic break for what she was about to say.

"They are aiming to exterminate all those, who are not human. Inferior, they call them. Vile creatures, that are not blessed by their divine light, that eternally shines down onto them. I came here following the order to prevent as many deaths as possible. With all means, that are deemed necessary and allowed by the oath I swore to my Empress", the Oni spoke in a firm tone. The piercing demonic gaze moved around, from person to person. "The arch-pope Urban and king Konstantin deemed all non-humans as outlaws, stripping them off all their rights to commit atrocities against them. Backed up by their zealous paladins and noblemen, who would only profit from claiming the riches of the mountains."

"There may be humans among you, who will never be the target of such pogroms. But which one of you has never stood side to side with a non-human, fighting with honor next to them or against them. If you did, can you call them really inferior to yourself instead of equals? And those who never did, what would you do if you were viewed as a being of lesser worth. A stain of dirt on a table, that needs to be cleansed. Think about these words very well", she urged the present people and kept looking around, before her gaze came to a halt on Marudan. "I cannot grasp the pain you experienced with the loss of your son, but in order to ensure your kind's and many others' survival, you have to look past it. Don't view me as the dark omen to a soon erupting war. View me as the one who brought you together and gave you the initiative to act as a unit as your enemy does", she finished speaking for the moment. Simply standing straight with that expressionless look adorning the scarred face.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Grommash rolled his eyes at the remarks of battle from Theseus. Galen's eyebrow arched in thought as he contemplated the words of the oni, they became downcast as he crossed his arms, a hand scratched the chin and the pipe dangled from his lips. He looked up at the werewolf leader but only stared, as if in a trance, in another world. Grommash shifted uncomfortably as the oni spoke, his son disarming himself as the conflict dissolved. Mathriti ate what was given and thanked the innkeeper politely, however seemed distracted to him as she focused instead on Baleworth's love interest. Curiosity sprang inside her as the magic which emanated from the woman was clearly felt, something even Morrow slightly reacted to by almost completely falling backwards as he leaned on the two hind legs of his chair, however Baleworth appeared out of nowhere and caught the chair. Galen thanked him.

The dwarven king became agitated by what he considered pretentious airs, shaking his head as the oni spoke. He calmed down a bit as the speech progressed, and then his head slowly nodded as the ultimatum of uniting became apparent.

"Your words seem noble, strange one, yet how is it that you expect us to trust an entity of a nation across an ocean from our shores? Hell, I trust the Priests of Baal more than I trust your kind, ones who claim to understand those they themselves separate from!"

Grommash motioned for the pipe from Morrow and then leaned forward, resting both his elbows on the table, hands clasped around the bowl.

"I think this is a good time to share what knowledge I bring then. Baal's children are on the move, they called for a Mok'Gra on the high summit of Kiramudu. Clans of the northern deserts and southern jungles alike were called on by the drums of war, they echo across the plains of Sakatana reaching all. My clan went to answer, and what I bring does not bode well." He took a moment to inhale, and when the cloud billowed forth he continued. "The council called on oracles from each tribe, no matter the race, to meet at the highest peak for matters deemed too much for the children to listen to, and what my soothsayer said disturbs me, seemingly disturbed the others as well as we chieftains were barred from this highest of councils. He said that the Nation of Shaka is being called upon again, by a self-proclaimed master, one which the High Priests deified Baal himself. The oracles asked of proof, and they say in the spot he stood blood rained from the sky. I did not see this with my own eyes, however the cloud formation was deeply twisted around the area in which they convened, so I am not in complete disbelief of my seer. As for the seriousness of this matter, each chieftain has been requested to sacrifice the first born in name of the Lord, given a period of three months to return and do so. Many of the jungle did so immediately after the announcement. It seems someone has noticed the divide the high north is going through, opportunistic to strike while your infighting occurs."

Now it was Galen's turn to be upset as his eyes closed and a deep breath was exhumed.

"It has only been forty years since the Concordat which defined peace swept across the land... Those centuries past we barely stopped their advancements united, especially given the scheme of which I'm hailed for-" King Ironhammer interrupted.

"And those who helped to lead the charge had more balls than the sackless lot we deal with currently! The sons of those I had no faith in sell out those who could have easily survived the invasion underground, we dwarves could stop the horde just by destroying the bridge that connects our mountain gates to the Great Deep! We may not have the numbers, but anyone knows four hundred archers with the high ground can kill four thousand trapped in the narrow pass!"

Morrow scowled at the king for interrupting, yet allowed him to continue. When Ironhammer finished, he spoke. "We meet for the obvious fact stated by our mysterious benefactor and Lord Ironhammer, and now this..." He rubbed his scarred hands together, then fumbled with his gloves on the table in thought. He picked one up by the thumb and twisted the leather around his fingers, as if a hand were holding his a moment, before dropping it back onto the wooden surface. "So then, we convene as members each of the different factions with two sets of problems." Galen motioned for the pipe to be passed which was grabbed by the king again. "Oi! Ya talka royalty but ya act like a beggar, smoke snatcher! Buy yourself your own herb, Minerva knows you have more gold than I!" Morrow yelled in a staggeringly accurate dwarven accent. At the yelling of this insult multiple "oi!'s" were heard from the surrounding guard, one put a hand on Morrow's shoulder and yelped in pain as he felt as if he were stung by a bee. Ironhammer quickly toked and ordered his guards away as he passed.

"The only downside to living beneath our natural protector is that the beauty of this plant cannot grow without the blasted sun." the king said, to which Galen shrugged.

"Then send men to the desert to buy some, but don't make me walk more than I have to, Phoebus knows I walk enough as is..." He tried to inhale yet the pipe was filled with ash, and a sad wisp was all that was left. Morrow rubbed his temple a moment and then continued speaking. "The Shaka Nation rises again as Logosta fights with her children... A third Shakarian Invasion." He looked up towards the demi-god and the knight, then asking them both, "What news do the two of you bring, of the respective capitols?"

 

[Asa Loko]

The arch-mage relaxed the grimace on her face and then decided to take off the big hat on top of her head. Placing it onto the table right before her, as she threw back the long, raven-black hair. Her facial features shifted and so did her body. Changing from a seemingly fragile girl to a grown woman in her early 30s.

The groups away from the table started muttering. The wolf pack growled at the sudden news and patted each others' shoulders before whispering. The diadochian hoplites, however, seemed as calm as their smug leader who simply sat there and listened curiously. Only when Morrow spoke to him, he opened his mouth to talk.

"Currently my people suffer more and more from the wrath of the gods, as they call it. Droughts, famines, and monsters roaming the lands, as it belongs to them", he shook his head. "The Oracle of Memphis said nothing about an incoming invasion, nor a conflict among the races in Logosta", Theseus leaned back and faintly touched his chin. "Truly a surprise to hear about all these things here. But who am I show disbelief, when those who have heard about these events from up close are sitting right in front of me", he laughed and leaned further back in his chair.

"And I can only confirm what the eastern demon said. King Konstantin relies on the help of the church's closest allies to purge the countryside first from any sort of non-humans. Regarding the cities... Well, they plan to throw them into walled in districts, cooped up like animals in a stable way too small for them. They don't allow any information out and into the city, thus not everyone knows about the pogroms yet, since they believe it's just the same problem as in the past decades", the old knight sighed and shook his head. "They don't know what is coming, which is why we have to act very soon."

"It's just like he says. We were able to secure our pack by bringing them into the mountains, but this is not a solution that can last forever", the alpha wolf from the lycanthropes raised his voice and quietly growled at this statement. A sign of weakness was not something he was very fond of, thus he masked it up with toughness and ferocity.

The Oni continued standing. Listening to all of them and only rose her voice once calmness came into the ranks of the warriors at the round table. "I do not expect you to blindly trust me. I am not here to lead you like a general does with his soldiers, but merely to unite your forces in the face of your enemies in order to have you not succumb. My task may be to prevent needless deaths, but it isn't to lead an army. Otherwise, I wouldn't have summoned so many of you, who are leaders themselves", she sat back down. "Egregore is supposed to be a coalition. Consisting of a council of famous warriors, trusted by their people. A first attempt, given the last times my brethren came here was to unite the forces and then disbanded the coalition. This time, however, the goal is to establish a long-lasting alliance to face threats like the current ones. Thus I am asking of those, who are here right now: Leave, if this idea does not appeal to you. But leave with the knowledge, that you are free to join anytime again. This isn't a one-time life-choice, but only the beginning of something greater", the voice of the Oni was filled with calmness and rationality. She tried to not sound overly optimistic nor pessimistic. The future was afterall as unclear as a dirty mirror.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Baleworth waved goodbye and began to head out the door when the cloaked man grabbed him by the collar and pulled the halfling towards him, smacking him on the head and keeping an iron grip. Grom's son and Mathriti both curiously watched the shapeshifting woman, Mathriti going so far as to approach.

"Your powers with mana seem most profound. Why does a woman need to keep her true form hidden amidst veils of uncertainty?" The girl's blue eyes cast a piercing gaze and she studied the woman's person and aura in order to draw forth her own conclusions.

Grommash was fully entangled with Theseus' appearance, and when the demi-god spoke of his people's afflictions the orc responded with,

"False gods can only feed the bellies with hope, not food." He shrugged his shoulders in a sarcastic demeanor and then turned his gaze towards the oni. "You call for leaders, yet I feel as if there are deeper plans afoot, dear oni. Let us hope you don't find your neck under the blade of my axe. I second the dwarf's ("Oi that's king to you!") opinions of uncertainty with you. Balance may be regained in many various sorts of ways, we of the path of the All-Mother know this, and sudden betrayal may be in the act of preserving balance. Why not have your own forces come to correct the task which you deem to coordinate in the ranks of strangers?"

Galen nodded in agreement to this as he refilled his pipe, yet his mind was on his daughter and her associate, attentively anticipating any precarious situations. He was weary of how many were in the inn, suspicious greater forces may catch wind of the impromptu summit. Looking around the room, he gave thought to their ragtag mismatched following.

"We must first deal with the problem of Logosta," the old man said, "We must end the pogroms before they get out of hand, rally the treatise of old in face of a third invasion. Konstantin has overstepped his limits with the throne and I for one am tired of the boy's notions of secluding the nation with the vision of his great-great-grandfather. This is of course, to be done by those within their rights to have say in the matter," he then gestured to Theseus and Grommash, "As for the two of you, both should muster those of your people's who will fight beside us in the coming battle, we are in need of every hand able to carry a weapon." Ironhammer looked over at Galen and tugged at his sleeve.

"What of the bastard, Morrow? Are you thinking of putting him on the throne instead?" Morrow sighed and lit the bowl of his pipe.

"We will see..." the old man said. The hooded stranger suddenly looked up from Baleworth, his eyes met Galen's as the man exhumed his fumes.

 

[Asa Loko]

"Name and rank come with many eyes watching over one's actions, young girl. Power cannot stop others from observing each and all of your steps, thus I mask mine and move in the shadows when I want to stay low", the arch-mage placed both her hands back onto the wooden table, while she crossed her legs and raised her chin to stare back at Mathriti. She was wearing make-up, expensive jewelry that was vaguely glowing due to enchantments. And her eyes were brightly colored in a purple resembling amethysts.

The demi-god just smirked and further drank from his wine, after one of his men re-filled it with a bottle from the barkeeper, who was busy with the other orders from the escorts of the important personalities. "Strange, false gods give one a strong culture then for some odd reason, unlike certain barbarians living in their ferocious jungles. Truly strange", he quietly laughed and pursed his lips while staring into his cup. "I can give it my best shot to assemble as many capable warriors as I can, but I cannot make any promises besides that I and my men will fight no matter what is to come."

"Threats have no room here, orc. Either you act on those empty threats or stay quiet", the Oni calmly replied. No anger was found within her voice, merely the inhumane calmness she kept during the whole meeting. "But to answer your question as to why we are not sending armies ourselves: We can't. Imagine escorting thousands of men over the gaping sea between Heikō and Diadochia. And then we have to bring them through the lands. They need to be fed. Their equipment needs to be tended to. And before it happens, the armies are demoralized, weakened and unfit to fight an enemy on his own turf. If I recall correctly, this was the very same reason as to why the crusaders from Logosta experienced such a hard time in the lands of Diadochia back then, wasn't this the case?", her eyebrows moved up for a split second. "Plus, wouldn't our own forces traveling through your lands seem even more suspicious. Countless cities and villages defenseless in the face of a foreign army", she made a dismissive handwave towards the Alpha-Wolf of the lycanthropes and the old Logosta knight.

"Instead we offer support in form of resources and information. Both things that are needed to win wars like those to come", the Oni continued speaking and then raised her right hand. "The Jackal is right. Before we can even remotely think of taking care of the matter in the lands of Shakari we must tend to Logosta. Yet we can't completely turn a blind eye to it. A small part of the people here should investigate it while the rest takes care of the main problem", she suggested and looked into their big round.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Grommash was about to unhinge the blade from its sheathe when Galen suddenly smacked him on the back of the neck.

"Oni, never call an orc on his threats, they'll always follow through. As wise as you appear, I wonder... Anyways, yes. Everything you say is true, and I concur with this fact that we should have those who are able to act as reconnaissance do so. Grommash, you'll be our spy for this invasion. However, what is it you plan to do regarding the sacrificial lamb?" Grommash was about to swing on Galen, yet when talk turned to his pledge of allegiance, bowed his head and his shoulders hunched forward.

"If I am to fulfill this role, there is only one thing I can do in order to assure I am fully trusted..." Grommash's son didn't move, as if oblivious to the conversation as he continued to study the two women near him, yet his ears flickered with the sounds they absorbed.

Mathriti nodded slowly in agreement at the woman's words, arched brows studying the magical composition of her acquaintance's outfit. She bent forward and peered into the glowing eyes, uncertain of what they held for her.

"Is there a name I can place with your face? Mine is Mathriti Morrow, daughter of Galen Morrow." She held out her hand for the woman, awaiting similar response.

King Ironhammer looked around as people began to stand over him and his beard began to quiver with rage as he felt forgotten about. His beady eyes searched for someone to acknowledge the presence they stood above, then muttered about the indecency common to all ground dwellers. Fuming to himself, Baleworth appeared out of nowhere with a pint of ale, handed it to the king who stammered quick thanks after initial surprise the presence of his friend gave him. When he took a sip, however, he spit it out across the table, and threw the pint to the floor next to him. The contents splattered across the floor, and to Galen's dismay, on his boots.

"What the fuck shite is this ye serve to the Lord of the Great Deep?! For Ulthur's sake I swear the brain of every man who drank this piss ale will rot eternally for consuming such... Such... Such blasphemous ale as this!"

Baleworth laughed and made 'told ya so' remarks towards the innkeeper, sticking his tongue out at the man for the reaction the halfling knew he'd get from the king.

"Enough! We've not time for this foolishness!" Galen yelled across the crowded inn, quieting all making noise. "Now, Grommash will keep me updated on the activities and find those sympathetic towards our cause to rally on to lead the espionage. A father should never have to bury his blade in his son. Theseus, do what you can in Diodachia and send your updates as swiftly as possible, rally as many as you can. If your forces aren't able to stand with those of Logosta, then I fear our countrymen may allow your lands to fall, and you with them, if they feel they are fighting for yours alone. As for our internal problems..." He gestured towards the knight, the pack leader, and the dwarven king. "Balian, you didn't come here, you know nothing of this, and you will be our eyes and ears in the court while we further plan our attack. Kodlak, yours is to rally those of the other magical races and bring them together in Ironhammer's mountain. The king will have no issues with this, right, Marudan?" The dwarf shook his head abruptly, as rare had he seen Morrow emotional, and it was the first time it was towards him. "Good," the old man sighed, "Oni, you'll travel with me, or go back to the lands of whence you came. I am thankful for your call to action, however, no one can agree to trust you yet. Until you prove otherwise I'll either watch you myself or ask that you return home, especially since you still haven't relinquished your name." The old man's eyes now held contempt as his boots were sullied, and he longed for a nice bath and warm linens.

The hooded figure stepped outside quietly, the door making no sound as he did so.

 

[Asa Loko]

"Don't mistake harshness with foolishness, desert wolf. Whether an orc makes an empty threat or a human makes no difference to me at this table. All of us have the same rights, thus I allow no one to speak of violence to one another, while they sit at this table", she tilted her head and observed Galen smack Grommash's neck before her attention shifted over to the chieftain's son.

Bemused by the bickering and discussion, Theseus continued drinking from his wine. It seemed that there was no end to his thirst, as his face didn't even appear slightly bushed after the fourth or fifth cup he had. "A sight truly by the gods", he commented in a mumbling tone.

"A name? My, quite the curious young girl you are", the arch-mage spoke with a sly grin on her face, before she snapped both her fingers and a piece of paper appeared in her hand. It was neatly folded which was the reason that the written words on it weren't readable without opening. "Here. But don't speak it out loud, it's a secret between us", the woman leaned forward, the plain, baggy robe crumpled during the movement. She would have handed the note over to Mathriti. If she opened it, she would find the word "Morgiana" written on it. And a moment later the note would burn itself, ignited by embers from within that would have left nothing behind but ash.

"I told you already, ya damn stupid goat! I dun' care about those incestuous bastards from the mountains. Can't blame'em if their tastebuds were the first victims of their grandparents sleeping with their sisters!", the barkeep cursed audibly while throwing his arms around and showed all sorts of symbols with his hands to Baleworth. Only when Galen yelled, he got quiet again and placed the empty tray onto the counter to raise an eyebrow.

The other people attending the meeting carefully listened, as the jackal spoke. Many of them nodded in agreement at the end, while those that were directly adressed stood up in preparation to leave.

"Do not underestimate me and my antigonides, desert wolf. My tongue is as sharp as the tip of my spear. And I wield both excellently", he smirked and put the wine goblet down, as he picked the hoplite helmet up from his hip to put it back onto his head. "Diadochia will not fall in the face of barbarians or xenophobes. However, the same cannot be said for your homelands without the help of the rest", Theseus huffed out, seemingly amused. "Men, follow me", he set his feet into motion with his men following him closely.

"The inhabitants of the forests and villages will be on our side. For nearly a century we protected them from anything, that sought their deaths or wanted to harm them", the alpha-wolf with the grey-white fur stood up and rolled his shoulders. With a howl he commanded his mean to head out, before glancing at each of the parties, that were currently here. "Take care", he mumbled on his way out.

"My old mind is feeble, stranger. I and my brothers were never here... I think", the old knight Balian slowly rose up from the chair with the help of his grandson standing next to him. "May the light of the godmother bless you all", he bid his farewell and gave everyone a nod.

"I cannot reveal my name easily, Jackal. It bears great power over me, as those who know it are able to banish and weaken me by simply uttering it in combination with the word begone", the Oni shrugged and raised her hand once again to wave at those, that were heading out. Many of the sailors and mercenaries were as fast gone, as they had appeared at the inn. Most of them were going towards the Ironhammer's mountain soon. Grouping up for the battle to come. "On another note: You still misunderstand my intentions. It is not trust, that I want from the people on the main-continent. It is your cooperation with one another, not strictly me or the Empire. The wars and famines on this continent could eradicate all life on here and the far isles of Heikō would remain unfazed by that. But that is not in my nor the Empire's interest, thus I am here, as already stated. Say", she stared at him with her piercing gaze. "Have I ever asked for your or anyone's trust? In fact, I didn't demand anything. Neither trust, nor information or cooperation that I am interested in. I only gave out information, that was unknown to most, but obvious to some while inviting all of you to this place with no ulterior motive in mind. Many of those that were invited here fought each other in past wars", she explained calmly and thoroughly, as more and more of the invited left.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

Grommash and Galen clasped hands together as they said goodbyes, Grommash whispering something to the old man before calling for his son.

"You won't take a room for the night, Grom?" Galen asked.

"You said it yourself, those who live here don't take kindly to my ilk, we are better off making headway through the forests before daylight arises, so as not to arouse suspicion. I will send birds when news becomes available... Good luck old friend." With that, the orcs followed their nemesis out, Galen watching on before turning to face those who stayed. He turned his attention to the oni.

"Good, this gives even more of a reason for you to share it. I'll respect your wish not to allow just anyone to know it, you'll give it to me in private, that way if your loyalty proves faulty I may do what is necessary. I feel that is a fair enough of deal, is it not? Now then," Galen gestured towards his boots. "Marudan, a man to take these boots and wash them." The king gestured and one of his guards did what was asked, the king pushing himself up from the table and heading towards the bar.

"Oi, I hear talk of incest, that shite is what ya tall ones like to say to compensate for yer lack of genitals! Ain't a way to treat fair customers too, might I add, you want a burnt husk of an inn tonight or should ya find something to sate our tastebuds?!" The rest of the guard followed suit and began to harass the innkeeper, yelling insults and raiding store room.

Baleworth snatched the paper from Mathriti's hand before she could even read it, the sneaky halfling true to his nature. Slowly he pronounced the syllables as reading was not his strong suit.

"Mo-Ri-Gi-Na? What kind of spice is that?" Mathriti threw a fist down and hit the kinder on the head.

"Blasted numbskull! Keep your nose out of other people's business!" Mathriti yelled as she took the paper back. Baleworth frowned and rubbed the sore spot, slowly meandering towards the dwarves in childlike remorse. Reading the name to herself, she nodded slowly. "Aaaah, I see now, I had assumed you were merely one of myth... I am honestly a bit overwhelmed to meet one such as yourself fair lady." She bowed her head a bit in approval. Galen looked back at his daughter and her company.

"I figured you'd show up eventually." Contempt was held in his voice, Morrow weary of the violet eyed woman. "I expect you'll be taking up room with us tonight as well?" He moved to pack another bowl of his pipe, and found the contents of his herb pouch empty. He scowled.

 

[Asa Loko]

The sorceress rolled her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. "Be glad that she is your companion, otherwise I would be cursing you and your ancestors, saytr", Morgiana calmly spoke and snapped with her fingers. A glass of water materialized itself within her palm. Ready to be drunk by the woman that was said to live over a hundred years already, if not longer. After all, the members of the magic circle were said to be mysteries in themselves. A group of scholars and magistrates from all kingdoms, empires, and tribes who established a certain set of rules and ethics for magicians.

"No need to feel honored or overwhelmed, young miss. Humbleness is my specialty, when I am talking to beings of wisdom and intelligence. Unlike certain other people", she squinted for a short moment and then looked back to Mathriti. "Myths often tend to be true, believe me", Morgiana gave her a wink.

The barkeeper spilled some of his ale on "accident" onto the dwarves coming closer towards him, as they attempted to open the locked storage room. "I'll give yar small gnomes a fine beating if ya act like animals. Royalty guard who cares, I'll take ya'll on with confidence", he cramped up his sleeves to reveal the fat forearms. Just like a boxer he raised them and threw jabs into the air to show them how serious he was.

The Oni eyed the exchange between the three at the other side of the table, before her attention shifted back to Galen. "No", was her instant reply to his idea of a 'fair deal', that bemused her in a subtle way. Not that this amusement was reflected on her mask of a face, but she exhaled a little bit longer through her nostrils than usually. "No matter what I say, you still seem to misunderstand things, Jackal. My loyalty belongs none of the people on this continent, but to someone on the other side of the world, so to say. Someone whose word is absolute for me. Thus I don't feel the need or the urgency to tell a stranger such an important detail. Especially if he has people in his close proximity who don't have respect for the word -privacy-", she shrugged and finally decided to stand up, whilst picking her rice hat up from the ground. "You act as if you are the chosen one to kill me if I would ever betray my Empress, but you are truly a fool if you believe this to be the case. Shake off the idea of wanting to know such a mundane thing and instead focus your gaze onto what it to come", she shook her head and placed the piece of clothing back onto her head.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

The door to the food storage opened abruptly as the ale was spilled, Baleworth tumbling out from atop sacks of potatoes and heaps and mounds of different vegetables, gnawing on a carrot. Some of the dwarves inspected their findings, however disappointingly found the drink stocks were in another location. Baleworth strode past the busy innkeeper casually, as if nothing happened.

Galen folded his arms and glared at the Oni. She had a fair enough point, on the fact that there was no actual reason for animosity from those who convened, especially on the due note that enemies and allies sat at one table. This only showed the gravest of concerns to their well beings, and yet for the Oni, one from a land across the seas of Anki, he was hard pressed to trust in a world of filled with deceit. He understood the laws of nature well, an old ranger of the wilds. He brushed back strands of the cotton-colored dreads which fell forward when his head dipped, and he closed his eyes sighing. The tips of his ears poked from the top sides at the top of his head, and he furrowed his brow in contemplation. He thought a moment on the predicament he was located in, thinking of how much walking he was going to have to do. First stop couldn't even be the desert, at least he'd be able to buy more herb. Without it his temperament grew grouchy, this he knew well, yet he figured he'd lose about two weeks on his journey to the North, Galen rubbing the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. He suddenly leaped from his seat and strode past the Oni to the dwarves, gripping one by the back of his collar and throwing him from the bar, he grabbed one of the mugs of ale and downed it in a single gulp. The rest took this as a sign to settle down, and begrudgingly began filling themselves with what they opinionated to be lackluster food and drink. The thrown dwarf rubbed his head as he'd hit a support beam, sauntering back to the bar. The old man wiped his lips with his sleeve and turned back to look at the females for a moment until the door to the inn opened, and his cloaked friend sulked in.

"Lo, behold the bastard," Ironhammer said to himself after looking over his shoulder before finishing of three pints, and then someone's grub. Morrow glared at the dwarf, who shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly don't know why I respect YOU so much," the king mocking common dialect.

"If not for me, the whole of the Great Deep would have been overran." Galen replied as the 'bastard' pulled back his cowl to reveal chiseled features framed by long black hair, sleek as if brushed. Smooth olive skin had narrowed maroon eyes pierced towards Ironhammer, a crooked nose jutting from the face as if the sculptor accidentally carved too far to the left, however beauty was still attained in the lack of symmetry. Snarled lips drew out the scowl lines in his cheeks as he roared in anger and ran to tackle the king, yet the old half-elf's instinctive jab caught the boy in the throat as he reached the two steps which drew up to the raised platform the bar area was located upon. The boy's body formed a crooked U, extremities stretched forward towards the king. There was a silence in the air as the whole of the guard watched, and when the he let out a spewing cough laughter and slammed fists on the bar rang out in the air. Galen gave him a disapproving shake of the head, chiding,

"You can't attack Kings, Kreyadis." When the boy's feet returned under him, Galen let go, Kreyadis folding his arms and huffing at his elder. "Even if they're saying hurtful things."

"I don't care who he is," Kreyadis yelped, "if he calls me bastard again I'll tie all their beards together while they're sleeping, or put dung on their boots so they'll catch shit in their beards when they trip on them!" He stuck his tongue out at one of the guardsmen who made faces at him and raised a fist in defiance, as Galen held him back.

"Really, how becoming of you, almost twenty and you still pick fights with those half your size." Galen retorted, to which King Ironhammer responded with

"Actually two times the strength lad, cause unlike yer father here we beat our young into respect." He gave two raps on the side of his crown. "Keeps us rock solid," laughing in amusement quickly followed by the guardsmen, one having to nudge his friend who didn't listen to chuckle along. Kreyadis spit at the backs of them, to which Galen quickly smacked him on the forehead.

"Enough, act your age."

Baleworth sat by the whole time, his lithe, tiny appearance crouched on a nearby table as he repeated,

"Yeah Kreyadis, act your age! You're gonna be King one day, and how're people supposed to look up to ya when you're acting like a brat?!" the cheeky kinder laughed and Galen was about to reprimand him before shrugging at the sound of a fair point.

"Maybe I don't want to be King!" Kreyadis whined, to which the dwarven guard started making jaunts, such things as spoiled children always shirking away the most in life, elves always having the most feminine of outlooks, some talking about what they'd do if they were a King. Ironhammer shot those who spoke the latter death defying looks.

Mathriti laughed at Morgiana's remarks in delight, shared annoyance heightened to amusement as Mathriti said similar things on a daily basis. Always surrounded by men, she was relieved at having another female presence. The arguments which flared from across the room caught her awareness as she shook her head in her brother's direction. She looked over towards the Oni and dipped her head to the side in thoughts that maybe she could say two presences, however the foreigner's distinct air kept her at bay from what she first thought to be a troll. The sudden realization of her words of stupidity made her wince, and she quickly looked back to the legend before her, one she'd heard of many times in different, more recently written implications, tales of a powerful sorceress capable of withholding entire armies at bay.

"Your conjuration skills are amazing, a whole glass!" Mathriti's eyes gaped in awe as the sudden performance completely recaptured her attention. She held her hand out and muttered the Ancient tongue, a pool of water appearing in the palm. She scowled and tried again to the same effect. Smacking herself on the forehead with the wet hand, she said "Without even the most basic of incantation, you must teach me!" Her blue eyes waggled at the woman pleadingly, the caramel color of her skin brightening where her fingers pressed together, hands gripping each other in the symbol of prayer.

 

[Asa Loko]

"Tche, I was about to show'em why'em called me da fat-fist back'en...", the angry barkeeper muttered under his breath, after Galen defused the situation. Even if the broken openings to the food storages left a sour taste in his mouth, that got dry. The old barkeep sure wasn't in the age anymore to throw punches or to fight. Especially when his joints started aching and he saw down on a small stool behind the bar. After a short breather, he went back to cooking and pouring drinks. There was some small amount of mead in store, thus he offered it to the dwarves. Maybe this was going to suit their tastes better and he would have to worry about less anger pressed into one meter of flesh.

The Oni, as calm as she was, replied to Galen's staring with one of her own. One that wasn't filled with anger or distrust, but stoic and a lack of empathy towards everything any anything. "I am glad you finally understand", she nodded softly and placed the piece of clothing back onto her head. "Do not fret. I will be waiting outside in the forests until morning. Once you rested, Jackal, we shall head towards wherever you want. As long as our path leads us eventually to the conflict we all wish to resolve", she spoke to him sitting at the bar, before her path lead her out. Right past Kreydis, who entered a second before she was able to leave. With a simple nod as a greeting, she moved past him and slipped into the knight where she headed straight into the forest to meet up with some spies from the Empire of Heikō. Information and movements had to be exchanged.

"A dear friend of mine is said to be possible to conjure a whole sea out of thin air", Morgiana quietly whispered but spoke those words out loud enough for Mathriti to hear it perfectly fine. "And that is not even the exaggerated version", she winked and drank from her glass of crystal clear water once again. "I would gladly teach you how to cast without incantations, but the price you have to willingly pay is one only few can take. Not a topic fit for a tavern, yet I can tell you as much", Morgiana leaned forward and then looked around cautiously. "You give away a part of yourself. What that could be I cannot tell you right now", she then moved back on her chair and nodded.

In the meantime...

Before the tavern, some troops of Logosta started to form. Most of them disguise, except for three patrol guards. However, only a single man stood out amongst them all. He looked like a knight with his tall stature and the heavily ornamented sword resting at his side. Meanwhile, the soldiers, mostly disguised as civilians or simple travelers, were carrying daggers with them or shortswords. Only a few among them were waiting within the alleys with bows, waiting in ambush for what was to come.

 

[theYungNicopernicus]

The Jackal sniffed the air in suspicion, the skin prickling and his ears twitched. The dwarves were putting up another ruckus behind him as they shared war stories, laughing and arguing among each other. He waved his hands at them to quiet down, which they promptly did, Baleworth and Kreyadis taking heed as well. The little kinder quickly moved to where he'd set his belongings and redressed in his dark green travel cloak, running up the stairs to the rooms above.

Mathriti was too absorbed by her potential mentor to care, seething possibilities burnt into her mind as she realized the facet of knowledge before her. It had always been Mathriti's dream to have her name known across the land, jealous at her brother's claim to the throne, and wanted to etch her name into the annals of history. She listened attentively to the words spoken by Morgiana, soaking in what she felt was infinite knowledge and wisdom, a key to escape the reprieve of her daily life spent in the wilds with her family. 'I could finally live in the city, maybe have apprenticeships at the Arcadium, oh what an idea!' she gleefully beamed at Morgiana, being drawn to the woman's persona.

"What's the matter, Galen?" Ironhammer queried, motioning for a guard to grab him his weapon. Galen stood completely still, eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied his senses. Something was wrong, he felt it in the air. The hairs stood up on his neck as the feeling of being watched overwhelmed him. His head slowly leaned towards Kreyadis, asking "You made sure the perimeter was clear, yes?" his son replying with a small shake of the head in affirmation. Kreyadis was about to speak when the kinder hopped the bottom flight of steps loudly whispering,

"We got company boss, its time to go! There's a whole regiment out front, some on the side, mostly light armor troops, but the lead's heavy. They've mostly got on disguises, but the commander made no arrangements for a costume, seems a right silly git if ya ask me!" he quietly chuckled, but Morrow wasn't impressed.

"If this Oni betrayed us already-"

"It wasn't the troll lady boss, they're Logostan, that's for certain." the kinder interrupted. Galen gave a curt nod, his mind reeling over the possibilities until the doorman, Boris, abruptly opened the door, stepping half inside, trying to hide nervousness behind a sweating, stretched smile.

"Uuuuh, I don't think that there's enough room in here for all yer friend's outside, Great Wolf, I thinks ya best meet 'em out here where-" the hulking man suddenly threw his hands forward, his head arching back in pain before falling forward onto the planks of oak the floor was comprised of, face first. Two crossbow bolts stuck out from his back, and a guard stepped forward in the doorman's place.

"Right, we've got orders of criminal enterprise taking place on the premises, I need the lot of ya to follow me, nice and slowly, no weapons please!" He was a rather skinny lout for soldiering, weaseled features accompanied with a squeaking voice. He puffed his chest up in the idea of intimidation, yet his physical form made him seem harmless. Mathriti turned suddenly and whispered the Ancient Tongue, pointing a finger where the intruder stood, a jet of water suddenly bursting forth. At the same time, Galen had reached behind him and grabbed an empty mug, chucking it at his would be captor's head to knock him unconscious. He would then take bounding strides to the steps leading to the second floor, grabbing his belongings as he did so.

"Everyone move, if there's a back entrance take it now, if you've ranged capabilities up to the rooms with me, and make sure you can climb." he threw the last remark towards Morgiana in sarcasm.