Windblush.
Year 54.Windblush was one of the three Relic sites that had been reclaimed under the Treaty of Reunification. It, along with Pulleysquirted and Desertcobalt, served as the hub of diplomacy for the dwarven race. One site for each dwarven civilization. Together, they became collectively known as the Cradle.
Queen Eta wrapped her cloak around herself. It was windy day, as were most days in Windblush. High Command was there too; she could hear their insufferable muttering from the back. A goblin guard stood nearby in vigilance, the sign of the Light Galley a dull mark upon his chainmail. She leaned over to Onul.
“We still don’t know who it is, do we?”
“Huh What-? Oh, no we don’t. Succession’s a little muddy since King Aban Lockaxe never named his successor. Plus, half of the high nobility has either been taken captive at Scorchedcrafted, or they’re dead.”
“Ugh. So we’re in the dark about this, then.”
“Definitely not the usual suspects at least, though there might be reason to suspect that the latest ruler might be local. Windblush. There’s a reasonable amount of influence here as opposed to Floorrises, despite them being more populated," he explained. "Plus, this is the far safer location. You should know.”
Eta nodded. Four years ago, she was one of sixty dwarves who had fled the Pear of Canyons at Spingranite. They had made the solid six months trek through badlands, green and mountains before arriving at Pulleysquirted. The journey was arduous and the site dilapidated, but here, at last, was safety. Surrounded by the tallest of mountains in the Sensitive Towers, the Cradle was highly-defensible, with only one entrance in and out.
Admittedly, it was dangerously close to Baldmaligned – that dark singularity known and feared by all the sentient races. Eta had no doubts that if the Old Horror wanted to wipe them out, they could.
She just hoped that they didn’t. It would be a bloodbath for the ages if they tried.
A tentative cough. Eta looked up into the face of a dwarf decked in official diplomatic regalia. One smile, and even this was tentative, upon which in a high, overly-pleasant voice he announced, “Our Queen will see you now. Do wipe your feet on the carpet before you enter! Thank you!”
Amidst the mass wiping of feet that followed, Onul gave her a wink. “Female, eh? That’s three out of three now. Armok save the Queens”. Eta smirked slightly at his implication, as she turned to give High Command their last warning. They could not afford to mess this chance up.
The room they entered was both high-ceilinged and airy – so different from the defensive warrens the Lancers were accustomed to. A large round table was set in its very centre. Beams of light, piercing through an overhead skylight, illuminated the table as well as the entire room. Around the table sat the dwarves and goblins of the Light Galley.
All eyes were on the Lancer entourage as the herald announced, “Presenting... Queen Putha Bluntedblossomed.”
A green-skinned figure arose from her seat at the table.
“Oh fuck”, swore Eta.
I just love Legends mode.
Heretic, I've gotta tell you it's already been 2 weeks by now.
I'm quite willing to extend it if you're close to finishing your turn within the next few days, but if you're still in month 5 or something, I think it's best that you just hand over the save to the next person. Wouldn't be fair for you to sit on the save for too long.