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[Gentlefish]

Posting to follow a Hanslanda thread and story.

I love how the bay looks like an evil four-eyed blob-demon with those five islands at the delta.

[Hanslanda]

I hadn't noticed that. o.O Anyways, there's more islands than just the five, but they're smaller. There's a good hundred or so small islands and atolls and such right there around the delta, and then in the archipelago north of Staalshtan, there's hundreds, all half connected by salt-water swamps, marshes, small lagoons, and other such things. Did I mention it's infested with reptilian monsters of all sort, shape, variety, and temperament?



Annamarthix whipped his sword out, the lizardmen already swarming towards them. The Captain of the Guard stepped in front of the Prince, and swept his halberd from side to side, in great, scything blows. Annamarthix stood loosely off to one side, lightly armored with his leather tunic and trousers. The lizardmen surrounded the Guard Captain, lashing out with their spears, but staying out of range of his halberd. While one group distracted the two armored foes, another group rushed at Annamarthix.

They thought Annamarthix to be the lesser threat, alone and near-unarmored as he was. They had not counted on the fact that he was lightning fast. With a thought, he cast a divination, seeing into the future mere seconds. Enough to know what blows were going where, how to dodge, and the best ways to strike. He leaned back, a spearpoint jutting at his face, and coming to a halt a mere inch from his nose, the bearer having overextended. Annamarthix snapped forward, around the spear, his blade stabbing. It caught the smaller, green lizardman in the armpit, and Annamarthix whirled away, dodging another pair of spears.

Annamarthix slashed his sword out, cutting the head off a spear that was threatening him, and grabbed the shaft of the broken weapon, yanking forcefully. The lizardman carrying it fell to the ground trying to hold on, and Annamarthix sidestepped, causing another charging lizardman to trip over his fallen comrade and sprawl snout first into the dirt. The half-elf mage spun in place, and narrowly dodged the snapping maw of yet another lizardman, this one unarmed. He punched it solidly in the gut, and swept his sword out, catching one of the fallen lizardmen in the back of the head as it picked up the spear it had dropped.

Annamarthix spared a glance at the Captain of the Guard, and was surprised to see the lithe Prince on the offensive, diving into the small mob of spear-wielding lizardmen, his sword flashing. Annamarthix turned back to his own fight, and got jabbed with a spear at a bad angle. Instead of impaling him, it tangled in his light armor, and gouged a shallow furrow in his torso. Annamarthix beheaded the wielder, and yanked the spear out, suddenly no longer under assault. The remaining spear-wielding lizardmen were falling back and regrouping. A full third of their number had been killed, and half again that had been wounded.

The Prince grabbed Annamarthix, and pulled him out of his reverie, "Move. They're going to try again or go for help. We must be gone by then." Annamarthix started to reply, but a sudden, splitting head ache struck him then, leaving him almost breathless.
No power without price...

[Hanslanda]

The Arcanii were gathered in a circle, silent and unmoving. Lucius stood off to one side, leaning against the center tent pole, somewhat uneasy. The strange Arcanii made most giants uneasy, for they were powerful, capricious, and very erratic. He knew, logically, that they were just those few giants that showed aptitude for magic, taken into the very unique order of mages amongst the giant race. He wondered idly what it was like, being an Arcanii, and pushed the thought from his mind. After a long moment of more silence, he cleared his throat, and said, somewhat brusquely, "What exactly are we doing, again?"

The Arcanii ignored him for a long moment, then as one turned to face him. The Angry Man stepped forward, and waved at one of the diminutive slaves that were clustered in one corner of the tent. The little human ran off, out of the tent, and the Angry Man looked at Lucius. "Centurion." The Angry Man nodded briefly, almost respectfully. "We have sensed much of your future. You will be important, in these days to come. That is why we agreed to have two of our own protect you."

Lucius shifted, uneasily, and said, "I need not the protection of you or anyone."

Eldritch stepped forward now, and said, "We perform an augury this day. Not one of those petty priestly rituals. No, we are performing a true Augury this day. You will be one of the very few privileged enough to witness such an event."

Lucius tilted his head, and said sarcastically, "Well, that's a wonderful honor. Thanks." At this point, the little human came back into the tent, and behind him entered two Cyclopii, neither one armed or armored. The small human scurried off to one side, and the slaves all started to file out of the tent, wordlessly. The two Cyclopii knelt before the Eldritch Arcanii, each one only wearing a loincloth.

The Cyclopii were thickly muscled, stocky and brutish. Their heads were shaped oddly to suit their single eye, which was possessed of a deep red or yellow iris. Their ears hardly separated from their heads, and came to a point. Their noses were broad and flattened, more like a snout than a nose, and their mouth was wide, and filled with somewhat predatory teeth, more pointed and tearing than a giant's maw. Their hands only had three fingers and a thumb, each one ending in a broad, flat nail. Their skin was a dusky tan, almost grey-brown in hue. They had no hair on their whole body, and seemed incapable or unwilling to speak.

The Crying Woman stepped forward, a dagger in her hands. Lucius was surprised, he had thought them all unarmed, having seen no odd bulges in their robes to suggest weapons. The Arcanii put her hand on the Cyclopii's chin, and tilted his head back. She put the tip of the dagger under the right side of it's jawbone, in the little hollow between bone and neck. She drove it in unceremoniously, a small spurt of blood covering her hand with blood, and pushed the dying beast onto it's back. While it lay dying, she took the dagger, and stabbed the other Cyclopii in the hollow at the top of it's ribcage, and the base of it's neck. She gouged down, ripping open it's body cavity, and the Arcanii swarmed it like a pack of vultures. They grabbed organs, and felt the jagged ends of the bones. They examined the blood vessels, the blood spatter, even the blood on the Crying Woman's hands. They poked and prodded, and when the first Cyclopii finally shuddered one final time, and died, they stood staring at the dead beast's innards for a long time.

Finally, the Eldritch turned to Centurion Lucius, and Lucius could sense something wrong. He asked, "Well? What did it tell you?"

The Eldritch tipped his face toward the ground, then back up to Lucius, almost frightened seeming. "It was the same as before. Five auguries, the same result each time."

Lucius waited a moment, then, impatiently, demanded, "What? Tell me?"

The Arcanii spoke as one, their voices layered with a legion of others. "The Fates have been twisted and broken. The future is uncertain. The one who should die will not." They paused, looking at each other significantly, "For the first time in the creation of the Arcanii, in the entire history of our world... We don't know what is going to happen next."

[Hanslanda]

The unusual trio, two armored men and a lightly armored half-elf, trekked endlessly, fighting off occasional raids by the Lizardmen patrols. As they marched, they came into contact with clusters of refugees, rebels, and loyalists, all disorganized and heading to Castle Rimir for their own reasons. Eventually the little trio was a great band, of many races.

Annamarthix made the acquaintance of a very interesting gnome during their travels, by the name of Crystal Stepwright. She claimed to have started the revolution in Staalshtan, amongst a great many other things. She seemed to enjoy his company, and when he asked why, she said, "Most people are afraid to look me in the eye, you know, the old tale about glamours. It's true enough, but we try not to do it, it gets us into trouble, ya know?"

Annamarthix just nodded and smiled, knowing all too well how much power the gaze of a gnome could hold. He'd once met a gnomish mage, and once was enough. He talked to the little woman of himself, something he generally didn't do. Most people didn't care to know his history. He noticed that the Prince often sat close enough to listen in on his stories, and he made sure to speak loud enough to be heard clearly.

It was on a dark night, with the great band camped in a huddled series of stone pillars, that the riders came. Several fires lit the camp, and a great many beings milled about them, gathering dead wood from nearby copses of woods, cooking, talking, and sleeping. Annamarthix stood, in the midst of one of his stories, and cocked his head curiously. Crystal gazed up at him, curious. He said only one word. "Riders."

The Prince was at his side in an instant, "Riders? Men on horses, you mean?" Most other races didn't ride horses, as a general rule. Either the horses had a natural fear of them, such as with orcs and goblins, or they were faster, more agile, or too large for the horses, such as with giants and some subspecies of lizardmen.

Annamarthix nodded, and started walking into the darkness, urged on by the darkly humorous voice that hid behind his mind. Ten men riding horses came to a stop from their canter, less than twenty feet away, just barely lit by the fires. The one with the most ornate helmet swung himself to one side, and off his horse, and waved at Annamarthix. "Hail, countryman. We ask the business of your band in the lands of Duke Faraldus."

The Prince walked up, slow and deliberate. "I am your Prince, and I am here to regroup the army and take back the Capital."

The soldier looked him over carefully, and said, "Prove your claim." The Prince held out his right hand, fist clenched, and let the man see his signet ring. The soldier nodded slowly, obviously somewhat conflicted by this. He said, "I must be honest with you, liege. I have orders to kill you if I find you, as do every patrol of Duke Faraldus. He wishes to take the throne himself. I am loyal to my country, so I will warn you, and let you go this once. But I must insist you go elsewhere, or I will be forced to attack you as my lord orders. I suggest you head for the northwestern coast, and charter a vessel to Redmont. Seek assistance there, my lord." He shook his head sadly, "Unfortunate that it must be this way, but I have no choice. Turn yourself back. Anyone else may continue on to Castle Rimir, if they wish."

[Hanslanda]

That last section was not quite what I wanted. Something feels off about it. I'm going to edit it at a later date.

I should write another update, but I'm not in the mood right now.

[Hanslanda]

Also, I'm cool with people leaving feedback of whatever sort. I'm pretty okay with constructive criticism.


"Oi. You." He felt a rough pressure, like someone was pushing him. Nobody was that stupid though, were they? He ignored it, and kept trying to sleep. "Oi. Suzy, getcher ass up." Another push.

Richard the Wicked looked up from his slumber, mildly curious and more than a little annoyed. A big, burly man was looming over him, holding a big wooden cudgel. Richard cocked his head, and pushed to his feet. "Excuse me?"

"You need to getcher ass out of my inn. We don't like your kind in these parts." The man was a good couple inches taller than Richard, who was very tall indeed, and even more... Rotund. He patted the cudgel menacingly against his hand.

Richard eyed him carefully, then considered his option. Richard was a tall, powerfully built man, clad in matte black plate over mail of the same color. His sword was leaned against the wall, close at hand, and so was his shield, a beautifully made kite shield with a red inlaid pattern of a dragon on it. He considered his array of physical attributes, and decided on a plan. "Piss off, fatty." Richard said bluntly, and turned to go back to bed.

The man swept his cudgel down, to catch Richard on the side of the head, but Richard swayed back a bit, and it glanced off the front of his breastplate uselessly. Richard turned to face the big man again, and eyed him levelly, "I gave you that one for free, laddie. I'm telling you this once, and once only. If you don't leave me to my sleep, I'll take your club from you and beat you to senselessness with it. I don't give a rotting shite what kind you do or don't like around here, I paid good money to sleep in here." He took a step forward, bringing their noses almost together, "You know who I am. Go on and try me if you think you're worse."

The big man glared at Richard, and they held that pose, locked in a battle of wills for a few long moments, then the big man huffed and said, "Right, whatever. There's fleas in that room anyways." And turned to storm downstairs.

Richard shrugged and laid back down. As he closed his eyes, he heard hoofbeats, and inwardly groaned. The hoofbeats came to a stop, and he heard the door downstairs slam open. A muffled voice authoritatively shouted, "We're here for the Wicked. Where is he?" Richard stood up and strapped his shield on grumpily, and picked up his sword. He started walking towards the stairs as the footsteps came thundering up.

A half dozen soldiers in the livery of the Redmont Guard burst through the doors at the end of the hall, halberds and spears readied. One, an officer, stepped forward, "You are a wanted criminal, and you will submit to our custody or face our arms."

Richard shrugged, "How many of ya is there? Ten? Twenty?"

The officer looked back, confused, and said, "Er, ten, why?"

Richard smiled evilly, "I wanted to know how many notches to put in my sword sheathe." He pounced forward, his blade lashing out and taking the officer's throat out in a spatter of gore. Richard kept his lunge going, plowing under the spears and halberds, up into their guard.

The soldiers, well trained, dropped their polearms, and drew short swords. Richard killed two before their blades had even cleared their sheathes. Another soldier died as Richard brought the edge of his shield around in a cruel blow, crushing the man's throat. One stabbing blade jabbed into Richard's side, but his armor was more than it appeared, and the blade slipped off, finding no purchase. An armored elbow thundered out, knocked a short sword from another man's hands, and Richard followed up with the pommel of his sword, crushing the man's nose.

With half their number dead or incapacitated, the soldiers backed up, and Richard grinned at them, "What? Have you no stomach for a real fighter?" They backed up another step as he stomp-faked them, and he turned, walking back to his room nonchalantly.

The wounded man nasally burbled through the blood, "What the hell ARE you?"

Richard turned and stared at the man, "I am fated. No mortal can kill me." He then went back to his room, and slammed the door shut, leaving the soldiers to do as they wished. He did not care much if they chose to stay and fight him, he knew how he would die, and it was not here, not this way...

[Hanslanda]

The Prince was stunned, even days after they were turned away from Castle Rimir. The Royal Guard Captain knew the political realities of the situation, and could see why the Duke had done as he had, but the Prince was trying to come to terms with it. Annamarthix stayed with them, an unspoken need to accompany the Prince guiding him. Crystal decided she might as well tag along with them, because, as she put it, "I like the elf-man, and who wouldn't want to travel with royalty?"

They were travelling north-west, as the guard had suggested. Little did they know, they were marching towards the bulk of the Lizardmen army. They somehow managed to avoid encountering any of the myriad patrols and rampaging bands, only realizing the great peril they were in when they reached a small fishing village situated in a black sand cove on the coast. A small group of lizardmen wandered around the streets, not harassing citizens, but obviously here to keep everyone in line.

The Prince was surprised they were showing such restraint, and the Royal Guard Captain explained, "The Lizardmen are surprisingly civilized, in their own way. They don't abuse captives or pillage, like most human armies tend to. Well, unless you trespass on their land." He grimaced. "They tend to eat trespassers."

Annamarthix shrugged, "Different culture. I can only imagine they have their reasons for it. It's probably a very good deterrent."

The Prince shook his head, "We need to get a ship of some sort, and get to Redmont. They aren't exactly friendly to us, but if nothing else, I can probably hire some mercenaries or something. Worst case scenario, we all die." He shrugged, "As if that isn't always a possibility."

Crystal smiled, "I can get into the town, see if anyone wants to help us. I'm pretty sneaky."

The Prince nodded, "We'll wait for you here then. If you need our help, just ah. Wave I guess." He looked at the town, noting that there was far more lizardmen than their little band could defeat in a fight. They watched Crystal pick her way down the small hill overlooking the cove. She kept to the limited cover quite expertly, a skill honed avoiding tax collectors and guards in Staalshtan. She got to the edge of the town without issue, only to walk right into a pair of lizardmen. They stopped her, obviously questioning her...


Crystal smiled sweetly up at the green-scaled lizardman, and he made the mistake of looking her in the eye, an instinctive aggressive response to his species, but one that failed him. He got lost in thought, thinking about how beautifully her eyes sparkled in the sun, and wondered idly what color that was, exactly. His compatriot nudged him in the ribs, and sighed. He too looked into the gnome's eyes, and lost his train of thought in the midst of his question. "Who are y... You have lovely eyes-sss..."

Crystal nodded daintily, and said, "Thank you, good sir. I will just be on my way, you obviously have important work to do..." The dazed reptilian nodded, and wandered off, and his companion followed shortly. Crystal took a deep breath, knowing it wouldn't last forever, and wandered into the inn in the center of town. She quickly found herself the center of attention of the group of mostly fishermen that filled the inn.

The barkeep said, somewhat warily, "A traveler? How'd you get past the patrols?"

Crystal cocked her head, "Uh, patrols?"

The barkeep stared at her blankly. "The hordes of lizardmen swarming the landscape? Totally missed all that? There's an ARMY of them just a few miles from here. They're invading."

Crystal shrugged, "Uh. Well, I knew there were some here, but I didn't know it was quite that bad. I figured it was just a raid. I don't ask many questions. Where I'm from, questions get you stabbed." She hesitated, "Er, which brings me to my first question. Do any of you have a boat you might lend me?"

A vaguely amused silence followed this question, stretching across long moments. "Why do you think any of us would just loan out a boat to a person we've never met before, in the middle of an invasion?" A fisherman spoke this time.

Crystal paused for a moment, then said, "Well, uh. Because I'm traveling with the Prince of Staalshtan?"

The silence that followed this statement was decidedly not amused. Another fisherman said, slowly, "So, let me get this straight. You want to borrow a boat from one of us, despite being a complete stranger that showed up in the middle of an invasion, and you're claiming to be traveling with the Prince of Staalshtan?"

She smiled brightly, "Yes."

The fisherman cracked a smile, "Either you are the most awful liar I've ever seen, or you are in some strange circumstances indeed. IF you can produce the Prince of Staalshtan at the wharf in the next hour or so, I will not only loan you my boat, I will sail you anywhere in the world." His smile faded, "And if you don't, I'm sure the lizardmen will have some choice words to say to you."

Crystal nodded, and walked out of the inn resolutely.

Right into two very angry lizardmen.

[Hanslanda]

They kept their eyes off hers this time, obviously suspicious of her, their spears pointed right at her. One hissed at her angrily, and said, "You did sss-something to us. We do not like that." Crystal smiled weakly, and they took a step towards her simultaneously. She took a step back, and bumped into the wall next to the door. Looking up at the hillside, she waved her arms frantically. The lizardmen looked up at the hillside, ever gullible, and Crystal dashed off to one side.
 
The two reptilians turned, and chased after her, their longer legs gobbling the distance faster than she could open it up. She took advantage of her size though, and rolled under a table covered with fish gore, then scampered around the corner of a building. Four more lizardmen spotted her, and ran after her when they saw the other two chasing her.

On the hillside, the little band jumped up and started running down the hill, their feet pounding into the sand, robbing them of speed and grace.

Crystal ducked around another building, but the lizardmen had caught on by now, and one was waiting right around the corner for her. It tackled her to the ground bodily, it's fanged maw snapping shut a hairsbreadth from her face. She headbutted it, and when it recoiled, she kicked it roughly in the stomach. It released her, and she scrambled to her feet, already turning to run.

Around her stood a circle of nearly fifteen lizardmen, spears leveled. She grimaced, mentally forming some rather imaginative curses. One stepped forward, a curious headdress of feathers and small skulls topping his long head, a staff in one hand, topped by a large crocodilian skull decorated with swirling symbols burnt into the bone. It pointed the staff at her, and it's maw creaked open, ready to pronounce her sentence, when, with a thunderous slam of flesh and steel against flesh, the Prince, Annamarthix, and the Guard Captain slammed into the side of the circle of lizardmen. Within an instant, five were slain, and Annamarthix scooped up Crystal, the little group still rushing forwards. The Prince swept his blade, cutting the heads off three spears before him, and tackled the lizardmen  before him. The four of them toppled to the ground, the Prince at something of a disadvantage in his heavy armor.

The Shaman had not moved yet, and instead of leaping into the fray, it opened it's mouth wider, wider. Impossibly wide. And then, it shrieked, an unearthly, hellish noise. It penetrated the souls of ever creature in a hundred yards, shaking them to the core, deafening them. Annamarthix was the only creature still capable of coherent thought after this sonic assault, and he took this chance to pitch the stunned Crystal like a sack of potatoes past the wailing Lizardmen before him.

He turned to find the Shaman eyeing him curiously. It didn't advance to engage him, it merely stood, head cocked to one side, one eye focused on Annamarthix. Annamarthix kept facing the shaman, and reached out, finding the Royal Guard's back with his questing hand. He pushed the man past the lizardmen, spurring him into action, and took a few steps back. The Prince stood, his ears bleeding, and stumbled towards Crystal, who was looking about with bloodshot eyes, still groggy.

The lizardmen were equally stunned, and were just now rousing to action, but the Shaman still stood staring at Annamarthix like there was nothing more fascinating in the world. As the little group stumbled towards the docks, it whispered one word, and the wind seemed to carry it to Annamarthix's ears, "Fatebreaker..."

[Hanslanda]

The band of battered interlopers made it to the docks, and Crystal managed to point Annamarthix towards the man that had offered his services. They stumbled to his boat, and he stood there staring at them curiously. Crystal said, "Uh, this is the Prince, and an elfman, and some other guy. We REALLY need to go. Like right now."

He stared at her blankly, until the Prince staggered forward unsteadily, and held out his clenched fist. The signet ring on his finger left little doubt in the man's mind, and his mouth gaped open in amazement. He sputtered, "But... You can't possibly... I wasn't serious! This... This..." Before he could fully voice a protest, the small band piled into his boat, and urged him to set sail.

As he reluctantly complied, the lizardmen were reaching the base of the docks, anger in their eyes. The Shaman hadn't followed, but there were plenty of lizardmen to go around. The fisherman realized the peril he had been put in, and panic leant haste to his actions. He worked faster, but even the life-long, land-bound Crystal could see that they weren't going to make it in time. The Royal Guard Captain grimaced, and jumped onto the dock. He swept his halberd in a short arc, cutting the mooring ropes. Then, before anyone could react, he put his foot on the side of the boat, and pushed it out away from the dock.

The Prince took a step, looking as if he would jump, but Annamarthix grabbed his elbow. The Royal Guard Captain swept his halberd to his brow in a salute, and turned to face the advancing lizardmen. The fisherman kept at his work, unfurling the sails and bringing the boat around to catch the wind. The Prince gazed at the Captain silently, unable to say anything meaningful. Crystal scrunched her nose, and said, "No one's ever done that for me before."

Startled out of his reverie, the Prince said, "What?"

Crystal said, "No one's ever helped me when they said they would. You lot came for me, even though you would probably die." She cocked her head, looking at the Captain sadly as he fought his final battle. "And he saved us, even knowing he was going to die."

Annamarthix nodded gently as the wind caught the sails with a snap of canvas. "It is his duty. He lived to protect the Prince."

Crystal eyed him, "You mean it was his job. He got paid to do it."

The Prince said, "It goes beyond just the money." His voice was choked with anger and other emotions. "Duty to your nation. Loyalty. Integrity."

Crystal shrugged, "I guess I missed all that living in the streets, with the beatings and all."

The fisherman spoke up at this point, "Right, I understand we lost someone and everything, but what are we going to do about them?" He was pointing at a small skiff floating into their path, a half dozen lizardmen with bows standing on it's deck...