~FEF: Liberation of Izzarra~
OOC ThreadThree years ago, at the end of the third age, Isaac, Lord of Izzarra, leads a body of trusted soldiers in an attack on their neighbor, Kalart. Tazok of Kalart is forced to muster his meager standing forces to mount a desperate defense. For a full week, Isaac and his forces hammer at Kalart's defenses, pushing ever closer to Tazok. By the seventh day, all appeared lost for Tazok.
At the end, however, a force from Kalart's neighbor and longtime ally, Mordo, arrives at Isaac's back, led by the Queen, Norona. Her fresh cavalry crash into Isaac's drained and battered fighters, and slam them into the wall that is Kalart's remaining defenders. One day, historians will decide whether this was a wondrous turn of events, or unfortunate happenstance.
The people of Izzarra have already decided. With Isaac's death, Norona claimed stewardship of the nation of Izzarra. Mordo soldiers patrol the street, enforce heavy punitive taxes on the citizenry, and punish any who would dissent with deadly force. Resistance has risen and fallen across the nation, but beneath the might of Mordo, none have stood the test of time.
The flames of rebellion are fanned by hunger and mistreatment. Will they burn high, or be snuffed out forever? In the end, the answer lies with you...
~Prologue~
Growing Embers
Balkore is a small town in the northeast of Izzarra, though not near the border of Kalart and Mordo. Like in all the cities of Izzarra, Mordo patrols kick up dust in the streets, every day. Every month, taxes are called. The residents of Balkore are no exception, and their taxes were collected a few short days ago. Few of them could afford to pay with money, and had to pay with food instead.
On the edge of town, there is an old, run down inn. It doesn't see much business, at least not since the war. The sign out front just barely shows the image of a horse rearing in the air. The owner, Rina White, spends most of her day tending her garden, and keeping the inn ready to hopefully make some money from anyone passing through town. In truth, the inn serves another purpose.
Beneath the cellar, a second basement once serving as a wine cellar now serves as the living quarters and planning space for almost a dozen revolutionaries, including Rina herself. Rina is no longer a young woman, but is already a widow. Her husband was a victim of the slaughter that concluded the Seven Day Siege. Her only son died last year after falling ill when she had no way to pay for medicine to heal him. She doesn't talk about it much, but the other villagers see no reason to keep it a secret. As evening falls, Rina makes her way down the staircase usually hidden by a large, weathered rug, stepping into the dim candlelight of the subbasement.
Everyone is in! "Alright you lot." Her voice floats out into the space, cutting through any chatter that had been present.
"I hope you see fit to get some work done tonight." Rina continued down the stairs, each wooden step creaking dangerously.
"Sharne, how's our food stock? As if I couldn't guess."