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[adwarf]

Ramus grinned as he walked into the private dining room his captains occupied, as the door closed behind him the five men fell silent and all turned towards him expectantly knowing their commander had come up with some scheme or another. Ramus took a seat at the head of the table, taking a deep gulp from a goblet of wine in front of him before addressing the five men,

"As we all know tensions between Dru, and Nocte are mounting now that that spoiled bastard Raoul has married his way into controlling Amius things are going to go down hill quickly, which means more business for us. Since I kinda like this nation I think our best bet would be keeping it out of the hands of the Araline and Raoul, Logan might not be the best King but he might be one of the few men capable of keeping this land together and out of Dru's hands.

Since I spy an opportunity for money Tomas and Jared you two are coming with me, we're going to Dru to 'observe' a few things, who knows what damages can happen from accidents. Nalcean you are to remain here with Yulrith and recruit another regiment of men to our forces, see if you can't convince that Captain of the Guard to hire both regiments for guard duty a season or two with a ducat as payment of course.

Finally Erik, take three of your best men and go investigate the conditions of Blackberry and Ceadan, find out what the Duke and Duchess are up to. While your at if you hear any rumors of more monsters or possible traitors bring it back to Valerian and inform him, leaving out any details regarding the whereabouts of mages if possible. I've been alive long enough to not want to put my arse on the line by selling out their kind, soon enough the time for us to act will come till then let us drink."

With that the men let out cries of agreement and the chatter, drinking, insults, and jokes continued, when none of his captains were looking Ramus sat back in his chair and pulled a pair of dice from his pocket. His face took on a grim determination as he let the dice roll, he watched as the clattered across the table finally coming to halt with both dice showing ones, with a sigh he thought,

'Either I'm the luckiest man alive or I'm dead, we just gotta see what the dice show next ..."

Head south with two of my Captains and head into the lands of Dru.
Send a Captain and some men to learn what Araline and Raoul are up to while remaining on the look out for rumors of the appearances of monsters.
Recruit another regiment of men, and send an offer to Valerian. 1 Ducat in payment and Ramus's men would act as additions to Finster's garrison for the season.

[Ghazkull]

Say one thing about Logan Blackhand...say he is one tenacious bastard.

[Dwarmin]

My King

   My investigation of the lands that border Dru is complete...I have amassed a fair deal of information enclosed within this packet, and am heading back to you with all due speed.

I do believe I am being followed, though-I hope this message reaches you. It goes without saying that if I am not heard from in a weeks time, one can only suspect the worst.

I really do miss you, though. Quite much. My hands are shaking as I write this, and it's not fear of what could happen to me...please, please, be careful. Do not worry about me so much you neglect your own safety. May the powers that be see us together once more.

   Aral

...

When Araline returned to the capital along the main thoroughfare, a whiplash quick storm had blanketed the land-clouds roiled above, thunder and lightning toiled, but there was no rain. The air was heavy with expectation. Araline had expectations as well, and a certain hunger, and valuable things in her thoughts. She was unsettled by the skies-like a bird trapped fluttering in a cage, her own wild heart beat quickly and out of tune with it's usual rhythm. Perhaps it was the time she had spent apart from the King that had given her some perspective on the situation. It was fear and hope that increasingly occupied her thoughts. She sometimes felt like a part of her was softening, going calm as she spent more time alongside him-her father might called it her temper. The scar tissue she had build over her own emotions was growing fragile...and deep in her traitor thoughts, she wondered if Logan really felt the same. Or perhaps she was just the greatest fool of all. It was a younger womans fear, and it simultaneously made her uneasy and a fair bit daring...like they all had been, once, young and fearless.

This was what Logan did to her-thoughts, feeling, memory. She at times wished to tell him he was so much more than just a killer to her, more than just a King...but how could she say that...he was proudful, like she. They were both beings who dwelt in the perpetuity of a solid reality. She was not a poet or an artist, and she could not find the words or colors to express what she felt. Mere emotions would have to suffice. The first silvery sheet of rain began at that moment, and Aralines dark thoughts came with it.

All was cold, and dark in her own mind, then. There was another side of Araline. It put blades through mens bellies. Plotted deaths by the thousands with mathematical precision. It dreamed of a throne vacant a King. A father laying dead in the snow, gutshot by an ailing lover seeking her attention with murderous desperation. The thoughts were not as mortal thoughts are, the heart did not feel as ours do. It was this alien coldness that she had only ever felt lifted by one person.

...

As the carriage approached the city, she noticed the lights of the gatehouse ahead were strangely doused-each and every one.

Araline pondered what this meant, deep in her own musings, as the portcullis to courtyard began to clang upwards.

...

A dozen men waited beyond the gate, less than shadows in dust. Drus elite agents. Bows and blades, quiet in the dark. They had orders to capture, subdue, bind-steal the pretty bird of the new king from her nest, present her as a trophy to their own King. He would have his uses for her. They were good at what they did. They knew it would be the spark to start the war. They were paid well enough not to care.

All that remained to be seen was if the King and his men was there to stop them.

[filiusenox]

((Are we starting this again?))

[Dwarmin]

((Are we starting this again?))

((Unless we actually get a GM who wants to do it, I don't think so. This is just me and Ghaz's finale so to speak))

[Ghazkull]

From inside the Castle the sounds of battle slowly drew closer...and with it laughter. Mad Laughter, almost droning out terrified screams, almost. Then a terrified wail, turning into pained screeching.

Several of the Agents start to look worried now. The sounds of battle steadily getting louder, steel upon steel, the sick sounds of a blade cutting through wood, armour and then flesh. The crashing of furniture.

Suddenly the huge Double Doors to the Entrance Hall crash open and a whimpering man falls through them on his knees.

His eyes are wide from terror and several cuts drench the Uniform ,denoting him as Guard of Nocte, in blood.

"RU-" the handaxe hits him in the back of the head before he can finish the sentence. From inside the laughter has grown louder, it was a frightening laughter one that brought even the most veteran soldiers off balance. It was again joined by sounds of fighting and screams of several men for help.

Indeed the attention of agents was slowly turning away from Araline and towards the Double Doors which now hung ajar.

[Dwarmin]

The leader of this small band of infiltrators is not a man we will dwell on much-he has a loving family back home, and he's thinking of them constantly-but he is steadfast and cunning, willing to see any mission through. He just wants to go home, and he'll do anything to make sure that happens. He cannot guess what is going on inside, but has heard often this land is haunted by evil spirits and demons, witches and warlocks-perhaps one has been loosed tonight?

He now nods to two other men under his command, silent orders given on the sly. Check the commotion out. They quietly pad toward the double doors, looking inside. They are skilled enough to appear as messengers or servants in from the rain, if so required. The Blades hidden under their doublets are for insurance.

He turns back to the gate, waiting and watching and hoping. The carriage is very close now. He's heard of this woman's skill with a blade and her ferocity, but he doesn't want to hurt her more than he has to. He's hoping near ten men can take her without injury, by surprise. They will offer to take her bags and sundry as vassalmen, and see her inside out of the storm-The King is waiting for you, they will say. A moments hesitance is all they will need. There is even a man here who can practice a bit of useful hedge magic, to keep her asleep. Not that they will ever put that in an official report...then, they can escape with their prize. Delivery is not his job, merely acquisition. What happens afterward to her, he doesn't want to know. Sometimes he questions why he does what he does, but only to himself.

He doubts himself for a moment...and recalls the taste of his wife's lips on his own (strawberry pie), a small childs warm hand overlapping his as they walk on a path near their old home (crunching autumn leaves), and his grip tightens on his shortsword.

He'll do the job. For them. By any means necessary.