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[Detoxicated]

Long live moskurg

[Madman198237]

I can only say: I told you so.

We should've gotten armor, and more lightning would've meant more destruction of hostile aircraft, which would've made our airships survive, which would've lead to artillery support being FAR, FAR better than it was.

But hey, at least we won.

[Egan_BW]

And if we would have done your stuff, we would have at least lost! ;P

[Madman198237]

How?

[evictedSaint]

The year is 949, and the war is over.

It's been nearly a century of combat, whether it was light skirmishes against unsuspecting villages, coastal raidings by longboats, or actual troop columns marching down country roads toward enemy strongholds.  It's been almost a century, but only 39 years since the discovery of magic fundamentally changed the nature of war.  In that time both sides have seen the standard sword vs spear clash of troop lines give way to the terror of artillery shells from miles away.  Calvary charges were obsoleted by the invention of rifles by both sides, and ships that literally swim through the air above have seen to it that men no longer stand above ground but in trenches when they can manage it.  Whether it be fire or lightning, magic has taken hold of the continent and reigned supreme over the abilities of the mundane mortal man.

We find ourselves now in Arstotzkas Capitol.  It's been two days since the Arstotzkan King surrendered, and in that time both sides have been tending to their wounded.  It's not uncommon for soldiers to stumble around on crutches, or lay quietly in cots with their faces swathed in bandages.  Many grumble darkly about magic - even Moskurg soldiers who openly admit that their mages were crucial to winning the war lament that even though the wizards can call down lightning from the sky, they can't regrow an arm or heal a burned face.  At the very least with the war ended the skies remain clear and sunny, and Arstotzkan Dogwood mages make their way to fields under the escort of Moskurg soldiers to replant the frozen crops.

Rumor has spread about the nature of the Kings surrender - the Moskurg Sultan himself is traveling north to accept it in a grand ceremony, some say.  Others whisper that the King has challenged the Sultan to single combat to decide the ultimate outcome of the war.  Yet others still mutter darkly that the King and Sultan are planning to betray those who served them faithfully in some sort of "Battle of the Embassies", where the negotiations are to take place.  Many deride that last option as unrealistic, but all the rumors agree. 

Moskurgs Sultan is on his way north.

He arrives on the third day, stepping out of a massive Phoenix transporter with his entourage.  The cobblestones underfoot are still in disarray, and here and there blood remains frozen where the shadows hide it from the warmth of the sun.  Many buildings are charred rubble and the stench of gore mixes in with the lingering smoke, but most of the dead have been reclaimed and buried in the frozen earth - or shipped south for a proper Moskurg burial.  The Sultans guard flanks him protectively and escorts him through the streets to the Arstotzkan palace.  The city is still mostly deserted, but civilians who timidly returned once the fighting died down (or simply never left) tentatively poke their heads through the windows of their homes to view the procession.  One even has the bravery to hurl an insult at the Sultan - "Murderer!" - but he quickly disappears from view once he catches the guards attention.

Hayat meets her father at the doors of the palace.  She's bandaged - one arm seems broken, and her hair is singed - but she seems otherwise fine.  On-lookers watch as the Sultan quietly discusses something with his heir, who grows quite irate.  Her voice rises until she's nearly screaming at her father, but once al-Mutriqa steps in she falls into a sullen silence.  With the discussion seemingly finished, the group proceeds into the Arstotzkan palace.

Inside the grand hall they are joined with their former enemies.  The Arstotzkan King is flanked by Myark and Bjorn, who like Hayat seems unscathed aside from a bandage around his eye.  The two heirs glare at one another, mirroring the dark stares al-Mutriqa and Myark exchange.  Onlookers include the minor Arstotzkan Chief Sweyn Hardrada, Hayats younger brother Mehmed, and both countries Design Teams.  After a brief, courteous introduction, the King and Sultan disappear into a conference room for a more private discussion, leaving the rest to mill about in the grand hall.

Some time goes by - Moskurger and Arstotzkan rarely interact, preferring to remain with their own comrades and stare daggers at those across the room.  A few attempts at diplomacy are attempted, however.  Some Moskurg designers approach the Arstotzkan team to ask what possessed them to design a high-altitude tactical bomber for city defense, and are promptly met with accusations of stealing their rifle design.  A few more cordial discussions occur, with Moskurg mages and Arstotzkan mages discussing the nature of magic and how their magical developments compare and differ in many aspects.  Moskurg magic tends to rely on "Divine Favour" from their god, which produced jumbled but surprisingly elegant spells.  Arstotzkan magic relied on an in-depth understanding of the underlying threads and how to weave it together to create spells that were limited, but highly effective in their intended purpose.  Myark and al-Mutriqa nearly engage in another duel right there in the hall but are dissuaded by onlookers.  Hayat and Bjorn do not talk to anyone.

After a surprisingly short time the leaders of Brave Moskurg and Glorious Arstotzka return.  All eyes in the hall turn towards them as they together stand at the top of the dais.  For the first time, everyone gets a good look at the two venerable rulers.  Wrinkles line every spare bit of flesh on their faces.  Beneath their silk and furs it's apparent their limbs are thin and frail, and their eyes betray the weariness of old age.  Neither had been a young man when the advent of magic took to the field, and nearly four decades of non-stop fighting has taken its toll.  Even Myark and al-Mutriqa had magic to rely on for when their strength failed them, but these two old men had nothing but the burden of rule and the fate of their kingdoms to keep them going.

"After much discussion..."

The hall falls silent as the Moskurg Sultan speaks.

"...we have reached an agreement,"

finishes the Arstotzkan King.  Muttering fills the hall but dies down when he lifts his hand.

"For too long have we fought one another.  Brave young men have entered and left this world and never known the joys of peace.  Only the flavorless bile of war have they enjoyed.  My son - "

Bjorn straightens up and looks at his father with his one good eye.

" - was born into an age of magic and war.  And he nearly left it in defense of his home, like so many others have already."

"And my daughter Hayat knows no such thing as peace in her short life time, either.  The time has come for our two realms to make peace with one another; a peace that will last not just this lifetime, but every lifetime from now until the end of time."

More murmurs.  Bjorn and Hayat shift uncomfortably, clearly not happy with where this discussion is going.  Myark glares at his king with barely contained fury, and Chief Sweyn Hardrada shakes his head slowly.  al-Mutriqa watches along with an open curiosity, and Mehmed stands by impassively.

"That is why it is only fitting we secure the end of this war with a celebration of continuing life.  Hayat and Bjorn...will marry."

The rest of the announcement went by quickly, with the details explained over the protests of both Bjorn and Hayat and almost everyone else in attendance.  The marriage would be matrilineal, to reflect Moskurgs victory during the war.  Their children would inherit both kingdoms and unite them into a single Forenia.  And finally, the marriage will take place in Arstotzkas capitol within the week, lest those that attend forget the devastation brought on by war.  Most of the preparations go smoothly - it was odd to be preparing for a wedding whilst burying bodies at the same time, but a special harvest is grown and decorations are prepared.  Neither of the engaged seemed particularly thrilled with the prospect of marriage, but even despite their protests preparations continued all the same.


The Sultan has met with you, the Design Team.  He seems weary, but for the first time since you've known him he seems hopeful.  He weathers dirty looks on a daily basis from those furious he would accept surrender and "betray" the kingdom to the beasts to the north, but his rule is law and no one dares speak out against him openly.

He confides with you all that he fears the wedding will not go as smoothly as he would hope.  There are too many dissenters, and the fact that both heirs will be at the wedding along with most of the leadership represents a huge risk.  He asks that you do your part to protect young Hayat and her husband to-be against all threats, and has authorized each member to develop their own spell or device to facilitate that. 

Later that very same day, a meeting of like-minded individuals assembles in a dark room outside of the palace.  It is Mehmed and his supporters; some of whom are members of the Design Team who spoke with the Sultan earlier that day!  His words confirm what the Sultan feared.  With those that attend, he quietly plots the downfall of the cowardly King, the weakling Bjorn, the scorpion Sultan and impulsive Hayat. His sister is not fit to inherit the kingdom, he argues, and with her marriage to Bjorn she will lose all right to the throne.  The marriage may be matrilineal, but all will know that their children will truly be of the north.  They will strike during the wedding and decapitate the leadership of both sides, installing Mehmed as the new leader of Moskurg and continuing the war until the Arstotzkan devils have been erased from the earth.  The plotting goes into the night, and the members all leave in hooded robes and disappear into the dark.

Each player may PM me 1 Design, a Plan (if any), and which Faction they will be fighting for.  They will receive 1d6 (no bonuses or penalties) roll in the next report judging the effectiveness of their actions.  Limit of 1 PM per player; choose wisely, as you cannot change your actions later.  Next report will be in 3 days.

[evictedSaint]

The Blue Wedding.

A week goes by as preparations for the royal wedding are made. 

During this time, the majority of the armies are withdrawn from the field and march home.  For Arstotzka, entire battalions, platoons, squads, and even single war-weary soldiers by themselves trickle back north to their homes in the capitol.  Dismay is visible on each mans face as they come home to smoke, ashes, and wreckage.  The war is over, and for many of the defeated they wonder if there was ever really any point in the fighting in the first place.  Moskurg's remaining forces likewise march north on the orders of their Sultan, with the claim that they were to assist in the rebuilding of the city.  While the soldiers do assist, it's fairly obvious their attendance is more mainly a peace-keeping effort than one of reconstruction.  One by one the remaining fires are stomped out and the smoke that hung over the city like a terrible miasma dissipates in the magical wind.

Reconstruction goes surprisingly quick; though they're without their famed Crystalworks, Arstotzka's mages manage to quickly erect crystal houses for the displaced.  Moskurgs temperature-controlled adamantium finds use as a cheap metal to replace cooking ware, nails, and even as an experimental air conditioning unit.  Mages plant crops and power windmills, and the city slowly rebuilds.  Despite the cooperation, things are not all that cordial between the two sides.  Fights break out nightly at the one remaining ale house, and one particular scuffle in the streets ended in fireballs and lightning strikes that destroyed a block of newly-constructed buildings.  Both Arstotzka's King and Moskurg's Sultan do their best, but with both armies packed into the city they find it difficult to keep a tight leash on their men.

After much debate, it's decided the wedding will take place at the palace, as the few churches in the city are piles of ash and Arstotkza wasn't terribly religious in the first place.  A few concessions are made to reflect the nature of the alliance, resulting in a mix of both Muslim and Pagan marriage rituals that are debate down to the smallest detail.  Neither heir is thrilled with the prospect of marrying the enemy, but each still prepares themselves for the wedding.  Both are loyal to their country to a fault, and though they may not like it both Bjorn and Hayat agree a wedding is better than the alternative - but only just. 

By the end of the week the city is looking to be in considerably better shape.  New buildings poke out of the rubble like sprouts through a fresh snowfall, and most of the wreckage has been cleared away.  A hastily erected crystal bell tower rings adamantium bells as the wedding begins, announcing to the all those in ear-shot that the alliance between the two kingdoms will soon be cemented.  The palace has been swept and polished, the tables filled with food and drink, and the throne room packed with cobbled-together pews for those in attendance.  Guests trickle in and take seats on their respective side - Moskurg on the eastern side, Arstotzka on the west.  Guards decked in adamantium and full crystal plate stand at attention at every door, rifles in hand.

The throne room is mostly timber, with arches reaching far overhead holding up the ceiling in a way that was surely impressive before the advent of magic.  Gray flagstones line the floor, reaching up to the raised dais at the far end of the room where Arstotzka's high-back oak-timber throne sits.  An impressive stained-glass mural fills the wall over the throne with an image of a red tree against a blue ocean background; only a few piece of glass have been knocked free, which is quite impressive considering the brutal shelling the city took.  Anyone who's important takes their seats in the pews facing the dais, and the rest of the rabble fill the balconies in the wings of the room.  Sunlight streams through the glass, illuminating Bjorn in the red light of the tree.

He's dressed finely - expensive furs sit over top a traditional steel hauberk with soft red fabric padding.  Despite the steam of his breath, the young berserker is positively sweltering under the piles of furs he dressed in.  Perhaps it'd been an attempt to hide his relatively frail frame, or perhaps his dresser had been overzealous in bedecking the heir for this historic marriage.  Whatever the case, the outfit did little to improve his temper and he stood on the dais in a dark silence.  A band in the back of the room begins to play, silencing the gentle murmuring of the crowd.  Eyes turn to the back of the room, where Hayat enters.

Her gown is blue cotton, going up over her head with jewelry adorning every available surface.  She looks positively uncomfortable wearing a dress; she steps on the fabric once or twice as she makes her way to the dais over a trail of freshly-grown rose petals.  Henna patterns snake up her arms, and a veil covers her face.  It was an obvious attempt to hide the disfiguring scars she'd obtained during the war.  Even despite the veil, those who've never met the woman before mutter to one another over the shocking appearance.  Hayat takes her place next to Bjorn, standing in the blue light of the ocean.  The band falls silent, and al-Mutriqa takes his place on the dais.

He brings with him an old, worn copy of the holy book, and after some preamble goes on to read the first chapter to those in attendance.  He delves into tangents once or twice, usually about the battles he'd won on the field in service of Allah.  Myark, sitting in the front row, interrupts to correct one detail - specifically how al-Mutriqa had actually been defeated in that battle.  The sermon quickly derails into a shouting match, then childish insults, then a quick bit of magic that blows a chunk out of the dais.  Guards intervene, and the sermon continues with both heroes pointedly avoiding eye contact.  Bjorn and Hayat stand by quietly, stone-faced and white-knuckled.

Finally the time comes.

"Bjorn, what dowry do you offer as your bride-price?"

Bjorn looks sick, but after a moment he swallows and speaks. 

"I offer my inheritance to her children.  The Kingdom of Arstotzka, to be ruled after my death."

Murmurs fill the throne room, mostly from the Arstotzka side.  Some movement occurs on the upper balcony, but it goes largely unnoticed.

"Hayat, this man stands before you for the sake of marriage.  Do you take him to be your husband, for now and always, in this life and in the next?  You must answer thrice."

Hayat looks no better than Bjorn, but still finds the strength to speak.  There's some muted conversation up above, and people have begun to notice.

"I do."

The conversation has grown louder now, and a few people in the crowd stand up. 

"I do."

An alarming number of the guards in attendance suddenly move out of position.

"I d - "

"TRAITORS!"

A shot rings out from the balcony above, and the resulting arc of lightning jumps down towards the dais.  It curves at the last minute - perhaps a limitation of the design, or even divine favor - but it hits the wooden throne with a deafening crack!  It explodes into a shower of splinters, knocking over the three on the dais.  The throne room dissolves into shouts and thunderous gunfire as that particular balcony is torn apart by lightning and rifle rounds.  It was an ambush! 

"DEATH TO THE TRAITORS!" 

Attendees and guards have begun fighting - some with curious blue or red bandanas tied around their upper arms.  Blades, rifles, and wands have come out now, and the throne room is filled with the screams and blasts of fire or lightning.  The Sultan and King have stood up now and made progress to the dais where their children lay prone, but they don't make it far.  Mehmed, who had been sitting next to his father, grabs him by the arm.  Without a word his adamantium dagger stabs into the old mans belly.  His father falls to the ground and Mehmed turns to the crowd, holding the bloody dagger aloft.  "The Sultan is dead!  Now begins the reign of Mehmed!"  Those wearing blue armbands cheer, and guards wearing adamantium hesitate - Mehmed is a kinslayer, but does that make him the new Sultan?  Hayat groans on the floor behind him, and their decision is made.  Mehmed disappears into an adjacent hall as lightning bolts suddenly arc out from a half-dozen rifles and tear apart a thick wooden pillar.

The Arstotzkan King makes it another step at least, before a rifle round catches him in the back.  He falls to the ground as Hardrada calmly chambers another Magegem.  The King struggles to push himself back up, but Hardrada coolly steps on the small of his back and pushes him back down.  "Weak."  He takes careful aim, and ends the King's reign.  "The King is dead!  By the right of Strength do I claim his throne!"  This earns him the cheers of those wearing red armbands, but a sudden gout of fire passes over his shoulder.  Bjorn is back on his feet, but only barely.  His eyes burn with fury, and Hardrada turns to deal with his new adversary.

This all occurs in a matter of seconds, and only now do the members of the design team in attendance manage to gather their prepared weapons and react to the chaos unfolding around them.


Egan_BW: [3]
You were sitting in the upper balcony on Moskurgs side when a shitstorm of rifle fire blows apart the balcony a few feet away from where you're sitting.  The gunman you'd failed to notice rains chunky salsa all over you and everyone next to you.  You knew it!!! You'd prepared for this eventuality - that's why you handed out your brand-new Single-Action-Allah out to every Moskurg guard in attendance.  As a six-shooter that uses a rotating cylinder and miniaturized Wands of Thunderbolts, the SAA acts as a shortened rifle that can fire six times in rapid succession.  It's impossible to reload in a timely manner though, and the fact that you gave one to every guard in attendance means even the Moskurg traitors have it.  The palace is filled with deafening cracks of lightning, blowing apart the wooden pillars lining the room.  You're not concerned with that, though; you spy Mehmed fleeing through a doorway.  That traitor will not get away with this!  You leap over the shattered banisters and chase after him.  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Crazyabe: [4]
Your time in the forge has been well-spent.  You've built a statue of al-Mutriqa himself - from his younger years.  This is an exceptional Adamantium statue of al-Mutriqa.  The item is an exceptionally designed image of al-Mutriqa the Moskurg Hero and a fig leaf.  al-Mutriqa is striking a menacing pose.  The fig leaf is making a plaintive gesture.  The artwork relates to the duel between al-Mutria the Moskurg Hero and Myark the Arstotzkan Hero during the late-spring of 943 during the War of Forenia.  The fig leaf was an after-thought, but every tasteful nude statue should have some modesty.  al-Mutriqa agreed - if you were going to smuggle it into the wedding, it'd be best if it didn't weird out the guests too much.  Unbeknownst to everyone else, you've applied some pretty hefty enchantments to that bad boy, giving it its own limited sentience.  Right now the statue sits in a pile of other wedding gifts a few rooms over, primed and ready to protect the Sultan and Hayat...once it sees them.  Meanwhile, you are trampled to death in your attempt to hide under a nearby pew.  Hopefully the statue will be able to do all the fighting for you... Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Taricus: [2]
Somehow you managed to get yourself integrated into the guards, wielding your own special brand of armor.  Gleaming adamantium, with enchantments engraved into literally every available surface.  Your straight sword and heater shield look hilariously out-dated compared to the guns clutched in every guards hands.  Most people look on dubiously at your claims that it's the "Armaments of the Hero", and intelligent to boot.  When the fighting breaks out, you're one of the first people to make your way to Hayat, and one of the last to reach her.  Turns out your self-designed armor is a bit bulky and hard to move around in, but it does surprisingly tank a stray lightning blast without cooking you alive.  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Kadzar: [6]
Much like Taricus, you managed to get yourself integrated into the guards, wielding thick leather gloves and falcons rather than sword or rifle.  These are specially trained falcons - Defender Falcons, with the sole intent of protecting Bjorn.  One sits on each shoulder, one on each forearm, one on each wrist, and one on your head.  It's getting pretty difficult to hold them all up, but once bullets start flying you know you've made the right choice.  "Fly, my pretties!" you scream, and throw all seven falcons towards Bjorn.  Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

Kashyyk: [5]
You sit in the pews, a few rows behind the Sultan.  You're decked out in a full adamantium kit, replete with sabre, pavise shield, a dozen firestorm grenades, a bandolier of Wands of Thunderbolt, and your own custom-designed "Lightning Repeater Rifle™".  You take up quite a bit of space on the pew, but once bullets start flying you're glad for all the equipment.  You see the King and Sultan fall - when Mehmed flees and Hardrada stays, it's a tough choice, but you ultimately decide to chase after Mehmed.  He is a traitor, and he will not get far! Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Nuke: [4]
While other spent the week preparing their various little spells and tricks and weapons, you mediated and prayed.  Your spell - Allawm Bila Rahma: "Merciless Consume" - will likely be your last, and so you've needed to steel yourself for what's to come.  When the traitors strike and the fighting breaks out, you don't cast right away.  You'll only get one shot, and you don't want to blow it too early.  You pull back to a far corner of the room, preparing yourself for the grand finale of what's to come.  Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

Sensei: [2]
A relatively new addition to the design team, you managed to somehow snag a seat in the front row.  You're sitting with the Arstotzkans, though no one can rightly say if they've ever seen you in the design room before.  As soon as the first blast of lightning hits, you're up and running, preparing your specially concocted spell for this exact situation.  Already a bubble shield is forming around you - designed to deflect attacks and protect anyone inside it.  With any luck, you'll be able to save one of the heirs before their death can plunge the continent into another four decades of magical warfare.  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Andres: [6]
They called you crazy.  "It'll never work," they said.  "It's too top-heavy, why not give it treads instead?"  Hah!  Like they would know.  "Why did you replace the hands with cannons?  Why not actual hands?"  Those people had no knowledge of warfare, not like you.  Your weapon is a giant crystal mech - made of gleaming crystal that shined bright in the sunlit snow, it stands under a blanket in a shed a block away from the palace.  As soon as the fighting breaks out, you're out the door and sprinting down the street to where you've hidden it.  "The King is Weak, Hardrada is a Traitor, the Sultan and Hayat are even worse - Moskurg!"  You arrive at where you've hidden your weapon away and clamber inside.  This is going to be one interesting wedding... Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

Madman: [2]
Really, who didn't see this coming?  You practically predicted this rebellion happening in your sleep, and that's why you've got a spell prepared.  Quickly, you drop to your knees and pull out a bit of chalk.  It's kind of hard drawing a spell-circle while people fight and clamber around you, but you manage to get a semi-round shape on the ground and begin your prayers.  It'll take you a few seconds to gather the necessary magical energy to fire it off, but once you do this should all be over.  If only the Sultan had taken your advice and made it illegal to have murderous thoughts - that would have made things so much easier!  Continue to  Pursuit of Mehmed and Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

RAM: [2]
Damn Moskurgers!  You can't trust them - no loyalty.  Slaying their own Sultan?!  What barbarians!  Luckily, you've prepared your own little retort to their disgusting religious magic.  The Gray Crystal Goo - an insidious little spell that literally eats Moskurg magic.  You quietly slip a small crystal seed out of a metal tin in your pocket.  You crush it, then toss it in the air.  You've done your work - now it's time to leave.  Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

BBBence1111: [5]
You are a foreigner, from a land far across the sea.  Drawn to the continent by tales of magic, you found a place among Arstotzka with your impressive knowledge of mathematics and a latent magical talent.  Now you are cursing your luck - the side you picked lost!  Clearly there is only one thing to do.  You've conspired with Hardrada and secured a position for yourself as a member of the High Command that will come about once the revolution is won, and as such you spent your time developing a more potent form of Arstotzka's staple fire magic.  Named "Pyre", it is a green, insistent fireball that takes a page out of Moskurgs book of Alannar.  The fire simply refuses to go out!  Tendrils of green flames snake along your arms as you pool your magical ability and prepare for the fight ahead.  Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

Zanzetkuken: [1]
Chaos simply for chaos's sake is your goal - you've been delving into things you shouldn't have.  You've stared into the abyss, and the abyss handed you an instruction manual.  The war must continue; and now there are three (possibly four) factions to keep the fires burning!  Too many important players are here right now, though, and if they fall, the game is all over.  Laughing madly, you begin casting your Dimensional Portal to replace those who are about to die with exact copies of themselves from other dimensions.  Why you are doing this isn't exactly clear, but it's not terribly important.  Midway through casting the balcony beneath your feet gives out and you go tumbling to the floor.  Your spell is interrupted, and rather than pluck others from this dimension and send them away, you yourself land in another world!  You stand up, only to realize the terrible mistake you've made - the door closes behind you.  You're all alone in the worst dimension possible - the "Cannala Dimension".  You die instantly.

Jilladilla: [3]
You've spent some time developing further Arstotzka's original concept of the "Crystal Lance".  With the foundation laid out for you, it's pretty easy to hammer out the finer details.  Your Lance is now self-generating, and with the HonestStrike integration it will home in on any target you throw it at!  You've taken up position on the upper balcony, and once the fighting breaks out you waste time.  Instantly you begin conjuring and throwing crystal spears at anyone who happens to be wearing a bandana, be it red or blue.  Loyalty to Forenia! Protect Hayat, protect Bjorn!  Continue to Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada below.

VoidSlayer: [4]
You've spent your time working on something more immediately useful (albeit more morbid) than your cohorts.  A healing wand, that relies on the same principle as the dogwood wands.  Made out of a finely-carved human thighbone, you've already tested it on maimed soldiers with varying degrees of success and consent.  You've been able to regrow arms, legs, eyes, and fingers - some even with bonus "Vitality Tumors™" to ensure a long and healthy life.  When the heirs fall, you immediately leap from your spot in the pews and rush to their aid.  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Happerry: [5]
You happen to be standing by one of the exits when the fighting breaks out, desperately trying to get past the guards despite having lost your invitation.  They don't seem to understand how important it is that you be allowed inside - the Sultan had specifically asked the design team to help oversee security during the wedding!  The guards - both of whom happen to be wearing curious blue arm bands - keep you at bay, preventing you from entering, but you can see what happens over their shoulders.  Mehmed, his blade deep in the Sultans stomach.  Your eyes grow wide as the depth of the treachery hits you.  Your goal had been to protect your ruler, and in that task you've failed.  But, you can see Mehmed running this way in an attempt to escape justice.  Your custom spell - Hero's Luck - fills your arms and legs with power.  You crack your knuckles and turn your attention to the guards.  You don't want anyone distracting you when you catch the traitor.  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

Light Forger: [5]
It was a risky procedure, but it was the best way you could think to protect your country.  You've built a glorious bronze statue, enchanted it thoroughly, then embedded a special crystal of your own design.  Then came the spell - Anima Retinentia.  Your mind escapes your body and anchors itself in the statue.  Your new body is strong, powerful, and much, much, much more handsome.  The joints creak whenever you move, but at least you can move; this had been a very real fear when developing the spell.  You leave your old body behind and quietly insert yourself into the pile of gifts for the wedding.  After all, what better gift than a life-long immortal servant?  Once the newly-weds unwrap their gifts, they'll understand just how useful you can be!  You only wish you were the only statue in the pile, since someone else had seen fit to gift an adamantium statue of a nude al-Mutriqa to the couple.  Oh well, you'll just have to prove how much more useful you'd be than that dumb lump of adamantium.  Hey, wait - is that Mehmed, running down the hall?  Continue to Pursuit of Mehmed below.

ChiefWaffles: [6]
Screw Moskurg, and screw Forenia too!  You're not going to live under the yoke of those southern oppressors, and you will certainly not pray to their disgusting god.  You and a group of like-minded individuals have concocted your own secret faction - the Vaulters.  Secretly, you and several others have quietly built the largest, most powerful crystal structure the continent has ever seen.  Named the VSC SS50 "Vault", it will put only the most loyal of all Arstotzkans far outside the reach of Moskurg.  It will put you in space.  This design has been a long time coming, and already most of the structure has been built in secret under the waters of the frozen harbor.  Designed to sustain 200 people indefinitely, the ship features a staggering amount of features that are too long to bear listing.  A set of powerful vacuum-certified engines are strapped to the base of the artillery shell-shaped craft, and even now you're strapping into the pilots chair and beginning the final countdown while your companions finish up the last few details.  Continue to Escape from Forenia below.

Andrea: [1]
You're far less skilled, but you help ChiefWaffles in the construction of the Vault.  He does most of the work, but you help, some.  You do a non-negligable amount of work assisting.  Probably.  As of right now you're sitting in the crew quarters, idly wondering where everyone is.  You told the other 195 passengers that you'd be blasting off today...right?  Actually, now that you think about it, did the secret messages you sent out say it was today, or next week?  You glance behind you, where supplies for 200-odd people sit stacked and secured.  Gosh, you sure hope they're gonna show up soon, or else this is going to get really awkward once the rest of you reach space...  Continue to Escape from Forenia below.

Helmacon: [3]
Your aspect of the Vaulters mission is more militaristic.  With your newly-designed space-capable V-ECT-0-5 dropship, you coordinate with other members of the Vaulter team to deploy armed forces around the city to raid Moskurg positions.  The new dropship handles like a dream; with the help of other vaulters, you raid various museums and historical sites for valuable artifacts to bring with you to space.  After all, it's important to maintain your history, after all.  "Go, raid the Moskurg guards!" you call to the other members of the vaulter task force.  "I'll take this load of paintings and carved stone statues back to the Vault.  Remember; we blast off this time next week!  Be back by then!"  You pilot your craft back to the vault and dock with a specially-designed airlock.  You'll unload this batch of artifacts, then go back to help with the raiding.  Say, what's that rumbling noise? It sounds almost like the vault is about to take off.  Continue to Escape from Forenia below.

Gwolfski: [2]
Your job in the Vaulter faction was the design and installation of the VSC-OBCP-1 teleporter; a rare and crucial component of the vault.  With this, you'll be able to instantaneously move supplies around, pull supplies from earth, and even bombard from orbit!  You're not sure it really works since you never got time to test it, but by golly you got it installed!  You've got a whole week to make sure it's properly working, so you're not too stressed.  Hmmm...that sounds almost like a countdown, doesn't it...?  Continue to Escape from Forenia below.

Fallacy: [6]
Your job was the most important of them all.  The Aetherfarm is a special farm based on the dogwood wands to feed the 200 or so people who will be living in space for who knows how long!  It's large, complicated, and it works perfectly. Even better, you've developed it so that you can insert circuit diagrams into the machine to dictate aspects about the crops you'll be growing!  You can mix and match crops, change the size, the flavor, the number of seeds produced, the color, and even the effects they'll have on the human body.  The Vaulters don't know what sort of crazy stuff happens to the human body in space, so that last detail is super important.  If people start growing three heads or getting sick, you'll want the food to be able to prevent those nasty side effects.  You quietly slot an extra circuit diagram of your own design into the Aetherfarms library and smile to yourself.  They wouldn't listen - your designs never saw fruition, but now?  Now is the dawn of a new era.  The others don't get a choice in whether your achieve your design goals now - not with your subtle control over their food source.  Continue to Escape from Forenia below.

[evictedSaint]

Pursuit of Mehmed
Mehmed flees the throne room, leaving the chaos of his actions behind him.  On the dais, Hayat is struggling to stand.  al-Mutriqa, himself used to the repeated blasts and explosions of open combat, stands before she does and helps his protege to her feet.  Instantly a half-dozen arcs of lightning target the two; apparently Egan_BW hadn't been very discriminatory when it came to handing out his Single Action Allah handguns.  Luckily, Sensei reaches the dais just in time.  His spell shivers into view just as the first bolt of lightning hits.  The bubble shield thrums as the bolt ricochets off and through the ceiling above.  The rest of the shots bounce off and land randomly around the room.  Splinters of wood and stone shower the dense fighting below, but the shield holds for now.  Voidslayer arrives next, eagerly waving his human bone wand. Without waiting for Hayat's permission he gives it a wave, instantly healing her broken arm and whatever other ailments she'd sustained from the exploding throne - sadly without any of the "healing tumors" the wand occasionally produced.  A few other loyalists make their way through the fighting to their new Sultana and form a defensive perimeter.  They can only do so much, though - Sensei's shield is showing signs of failing, and it can't cover everyone. 

"Mehmed!" Hayat cries, her hands curling into tight fists.  "After my traitorous brother - he cannot be allowed to escape!"

The group quickly retreats to the exit Mehmed had escaped through, just as Sensei's shield gives out and he's killed by an R1.  Happerry is standing by the exit, pinned against the wall by two of the revolutionary guards.  His spell - Hero's Luck - lets him dodge just at the last second to avoid getting stabbed with a halberd, but it's not very good for offensive combat.  Kashyyk's Lightning Repeater makes quick work of the guards, and the group charges down the hallway after Mehmed.  They pass through the gift room, where a bronze statue and an adamantium statue are in the middle of a brutal fist fight.  They were clearly enchanted, but must of somehow accidentally registered one another as hostile.  A few of the group pause to take in the spectacle, and al-Mutriqa gives a cheer as the adamantium statue lands a solid right hook on the bronze one.  The tide of battle shifts, however, when the bronze statue manages to sweep the legs of the nude adamantium al-Mutriqa and pry off its head.  The bronze statue gives a triumphant roar, only for Egan_BW to blast it to slag with his SAA sidearm.  The bronze statue had crystal insets, Egan argues.  It was probably an Arstotzkan.

Meanwhile, Mehmed has made it outside.  Screams, explosions, and the faint chink of metal-on-metal can be heard emanating from the palace, and the guards outside are all on alert already.  Mehmed approaches the commander and quickly reports - the Arstotzkans have conspired with Hayat to kill the Sultan!  Sack the city, kill his sister, and destroy any Arstotzkans you can find, he orders.  The Moskurg guards move quickly, and within minutes the fighting from the palace has spilled out into the city streets.  The city which had just begun to heal is now once again in flames.  The small group has some minor success in turning a few of the mis-informed soldiers to their side.  The fact that al-Mutriqa stands tall and loudly proclaims Hayat to be the true heir helps, but Mehmed's insidious lie has already taken root. Moskurgs fight Moskurgs fight Arstotzkans fight Arstotzkans.  Even worse is the sudden addition of lightning strikes, arcing down out of the blue sky and hitting indiscriminately.  Dozens are struck at a time, and no one is quite sure who's casting the spell. Taricus defends Hayat like a story-book knight.  His adamantium plate armor is slow and cumbersome, but nearly invulnerable.  His sword, as it turns out, is intelligent as he claimed.  It doesn't really do much besides scream in panic whenever he stabs someone, but it is intelligent at least.  Voidslayer does his best to heal the wounded as they fight their way to the command center set up just outside of the city, but he's in the middle of regrowing a pair of legs on an Arstotzkan soldier when he's mistaken for a traitor and stabbed through the back by a halberd.  Happerry uses his auto-dodging spell to avoid being shot or stabbed, but accidentally dodges off one of the still-intact walls on the edge of the city and plunges to his death below.  By the time they reach the command tent, only Taricus, Kashyyk, Egan_BW, and al-Mutriqa are still with Hayat.  Mehmed is nowhere to be found though, and Hayat blasts over a few tents in anger.  As her bubbled-over rage subsides, she looks up to see something unusual in the sky.  Without a word to al-Mutriqa or anyone else, she sprints to where her personal adamantium jet is stored and takes to the skies.

In the forest to the south, the last remaining Phoenix in the Moskurg army finishes refueling and rises into the air.  Mehmed stands at the prow with his hands clasped behind his back.  The crew have their mission - given to them by the son of the Sultan himself!  Slowly they drift over the city, their payload sloshing heavily in the tank.  Burn the city of traitors; that is their goal.  Without hesitation the turret gunner on the bottom of the ship begins spraying the city below, managing to coat much of the south side of the city before a stray fire ignites the slick.  The entire southern side of the city is engulfed in flames, and they move on to the next section.  Before they can cross to the northern side, they notice a fast-approaching speck above and behind.  It's Hayat!  The crew quickly scrambles to the defense and lightning bolts blast up and away at the heiress.  She's moving too fast, and the lightning arcs harmlessly past.  It becomes readily apparent that she's moving far too quickly to dodge - she's going to hit the ship!  The men scramble away from the soon-to-be impact site, and Mehmed watches silently as his sister crashes her adamantium jet engine into the side of the ship.  It tears through the tank, and a stray spark ignites the Alannar inside.  It explodes with shocking violence, killing Mehmed and the rest of the crew. After what seems like an eternity the adamantium shrapnel and flaming chemicals descend over the city in a blanket.  A small, dark spec floats down to the north - it's Hayat, having jumped free at the last possible second and using her control of the wind to slow her descent.  Even so, she's falling alarmingly fast.  The scarred, singed Sultana plummets towards the harbor far below.


Duel of Bjorn and Hardrada
In the palace, the fighting has spread from the throne room.  Hardrada has the support of a large faction of the Arstotzkan nobility, and the translated to a large chunk of Arstotzkan soldiers.  Myark is a whirlwind, having conjured crystal axes into each hand.  Traitorous soldiers in various states of crystal plate can't stand against him, though each kill leaves him moving a bit slower.  He's not as young as he once was, and it's starting to show.  This at least leaves Bjorn and Hardrada to fight uninterrupted; the bear of a chieftain has anti-magic gems hanging around his neck, leaving Bjorn without his magical abilities when close up.  Bjorn, surprisingly, is holding his own - a fallen R1 rifle is clutched in his hands, and though it doesn't have a blade he's managing to deflect Hardrada's blows as they come.  He's stronger than his frail frame would suggest, but distracted as he is he can't defend himself from other traitors, and Myark can't keep them all at bay - an opportunistic soldier with a red arm-band around his arm pops over one of the balconies above and fires off his R1 at the undefended heir.  Out of nowhere, a falcon swoops down just in time and catches the round through its body.  It falls to the floor as six more falcons descend on the would-be sniper, picking him up and carrying him screaming through a hole in the roof.  Jilladilla takes inspiration from the sniper and prepares a Crystal Homing Lance, aiming carefully at Hardrada.  He's attacked by a pair of revolutionaries in full plate, throwing off his aim at the last second.  The lance goes careening off through the room, blasting through RAM as he tries to make his way out of the throne room.  RAM explodes into chunky salsa, and all looks lost for Jilladilla - until BBBence1111 comes to accidentally save the day.  The guards prepare to strike, only to be engulfed in a sudden ball of sticky green flame.  It eats through their armor quickly and their screams die down equally fast, but the flames don't go out.  They leap eagerly to the wooden floor around Jilladilla, trapping him in the corner.  He begins to desperately blast apart the floor around him to keep the flames at bay.

BBBence1111 turns his attention to the duel going on in the center of the throne room.  Despite his disadvantage, Bjorn has found the time to slam another round into his R1 between deflecting strikes.  He fires from the hip, cutting through Hardrada's leg.  The chieftain roars, but continues fighting.  Madman, shockingly, is still alive, kneeling off to one side in a hastily-drawn chalk circle praying vehemently to Allah for "divine wrath".  His prayers seem to be working, as thunderous booms and cracks rip off like firecrackers outside the palace.  The ceiling of the palace - now partially engulfed in green flames - takes further damage as lightning strikes blast apart the roof.  One bolt manages to snake its way through a hole in the roof and hit Madman himself.  The crazed fanatic vanishes into a red mist of blood and white-hot plasma. 

The entire palace is falling apart now.  Flaming timbers fall from above, crushing a few soldiers as well as almost killing BBBence1111.  Myark, having killed most of the men who came with Hardrada, turns to his protege.  Myark is streaked with blood and gore, but not all of it is his enemies.  Panting, he watches as Bjorn fires off another R1 round through Hardrada's shoulder, knocking the traitorous chief to the ground.  Bjron calmly loads another round as the palace burns down around him, his blood-red eyes focused on the man lying before him. 

"Hardrada," Bjorn calls over the crackling of flames. "You've betrayed your King.  You've attempted to unrighteous seize the Kingdom of Arstotzka for yourself.  And you've killed my father.  For this, I sentence you to death."

The chieftain spits a wad of blood and gives Bjorn a red-streaked grin.  "Do it, then."

Bjorn lifts his rifle and calmly aims the barrel at Hardrada's head.  Green embers trickle down around the two as the Kingdom burns around them, and Bjorn places his finger on the trigger.  A boom outside the palace vibrates the remaining support timbers, and the ceiling creaks ominously.

A sudden explosion rips through the stained-glass window!  Standing there, silhouetted against the setting sun, is Andres in his giant crystal mech.  He lifts one giant mechanical arm, and an HA1 round explodes out of the barrel and wipes out an entire squad of traitors on the upper balcony.  He cackles wildly, swinging his other arm up and blasting apart a fallen support timber that had trapped Jilladilla.  For Nuke, this is what he'd been waiting for.  An Arstotzkan super weapon?  Now is the time for his special spell, the one he'd been saving this whole time.  "Allah, lend me strength!  I call upon Allawm Bila Rahma: Merciless Censure!"

Pure, divine light engulfs Nuke.  Lightning crackles down his arms and legs, amplifying his own natural magical ability as he becomes a living avatar for his God's wrath.  Andres, his HA1 arm automatically reloaded, quickly aims and fires a KPD-powered explosive shell at the threat.  Nuke raises his hand and catches the shell in an aura of blue lightning, spins it around, and easily fires it back.  The shell explodes against Andres' armor, sending the mech staggering back into the wall.  The round nearly disabled him, and another blast like that would take him out!

"Allah empowers me!  I am his Divine Will, and you will beg him for his forgiveness!  As I breathe, your magic will be no more!"

A glowing aura emanates outward, sapping the magical ability of everyone in the room.  Nuke laughs, his eyes aglow with divine energy...only to pause as he notices a crystal shard growing on his forearm.  He scratches at it, but it only spreads to his other hand. 

"What is this - no! NO! NOOOOO - "

Within seconds, RAM's crystal magic has engulfed him, and he ceases all movement.  The crystal statue falls to the floor, and the divine energy ceases.  Andres, in his massive crystal mech, pushes himself off the wall and staggers over to where Bjorn is standing.  "My King!  We must escape - the city burns!  The palace won't last much longer!"

Bjorn looks up with admiration at the vehicle of death and destruction Andres is piloting.  Truly, this is the type of weapon mages should be wielding, rather than merely powering artillery or trains.  He glances down at Hardrada, and gives the trigger a quick squeeze before turning to help the wounded Myark across the shattered floor to the crystalline mech.  Jilladilla, BBBence1111 (who decided it would probably be best to switch to the winning side), and Myark escape with Bjorn on Andres' mech as the palace crumbles to a pile of burning rubble behind them.  Most of the city is alight by now, with only the north harbor the only thing not burning.  The group slowly makes their way there, eliminating resistance with the mech's HA1's and their own natural fire magic.  The rest on the frozen shore and take a brief respite.  They only just escaped with their lives. 

Just as they think things have finally calmed down, a faint rumble echoes across the harbor.  They watch in awe as a massive crystal structure rises up out of the water - tall and pointed like a tower, but moving under its own power.  Slowly, the construct lifts out of the water and into the air above.


Escape from Forenia
The Vault rumbles as ChiefWaffles completes the countdown.  The massive KPD's generate a tremendous amount of thrust, drawing power from nearly a hundred Aether Reactors.  It lifts up out of the harbor slowly and gains speed, reaching higher than anyone has ever gone before.  The g-force presses the passengers against their chairs, the floor, the walls - whatever they happened to be next too.  Forenia shrinks down to a dot below them, and soon the curvature of the earth is visible outside the clear crystal windows.  Blue gives way to black as they continue rising up, up, up, until the whole earth is visible beneath.  Their mathemagicians had already figured out the basics of orbital mechanics, so the space ship continues firing for a bit longer until they're moving around the planet in a circle.  The engines finally cut off, and for a moment everything is silent.

ChiefWaffles pumps his fist in the temperature-controlled air.  Success!!!  They'd done it; their plan had worked!  He unties his seatbelt and giggles as zero-g lets him float around the cabin.  Now for stage two of his plan - the party!  He makes his way along the handrails in the corridor to the passenger bay.  He pauses to straighten his flight suit, run his fingers through his hair, and rehearse his speech.  "Today is a glorious day for all of Arstotzka," he mutters to himself, then with a single triumphant push he dives through the doors into the passenger bay.

It's empty, save for a single Andrea buckled into one of the seats.

A long, painful moment of silence goes by.

"Where is everyone?" Waffles asks, finally.

"Hm?  I don't - what are you talking about?" Andrea looks away guiltily.

"The passengers!  The loyal Arstotzkans, who were going to follow us into space, away from Moskurg and those who would have us surrender to them!  Where are they?!"

"Oh! Oh - are we in space, right now?"

Another moment of silence.

"Because - because I thought that was next week, not today.  And when you were telling me about our launch plans, you should have been more clear, Waffles.  That's how mistakes are made, you know."

"Don't tell me everyone is still back on earth."

"Everyone is still back on earth."

ChiefWaffles pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a long sigh, and relaxes.

"Okay, well this...isn't a disaster.  If Gwolfski got the teleporter working, we can still beam people aboard, right?  Let's...let's just see who all is aboard, then figure out what to do."

After taking inventory, the crew of the Vault is tallied up.  ChiefWaffles, Andrea, Helmacon, Gwolfski, and Fallacy all made it on board - only 2.5% of the intended personnel.  The teleporter, after some initial testing, turns out to be non-functional.  That's okay, Gwolfski explains - he can have it up and running within the week.  The crew has plenty of supplies - nearly 40 times as much as they'd need, without the additional passengers.  And more importantly, Fallacy has the Aetherfarm working and a nice seedbank built up.  They won't starve to death, and with magic they can easily repair the ship, maintain air supplies, and even make modifications as needed!  Really, despite not having everyone they intended to, things aren't so bad, assuming you don't mind a vegan diet.  Their first meal consists of vegetable and fruits grown from Fallacy's Aetherfarm - everyone agrees it was delicious, even though the use of Nepeta Cataria was an odd choice for a spice.  Regardless, Fallacy includes it in the second meal.  This time people don't complain, and by the third meal everyone agrees catnip does make an excellent spice.

By that time next week, the teleporter still isn't finished.  Gwolfski ended up playing with the loose wires rather than actually finishing it up.  That's fine, though - the crew agrees they didn't really want to crowd their ship with other people after all.  Besides, if there were more people, then they'd take up all the good sun-bathing spots by the windows!  By the next week they begin noticing their eyes becoming quite keen in the dark.  They write it off as space adaption and focus on the more important problems of their time in space - no fish!  And the Aetherfarm can't exactly grow milk, either.  And curse ChiefWaffles rigorous inspection of the ship that prevented rodents from hitch-hiking a free ride into space!  By the end of the month, Fallacy's goal is completed.

He'd done it.  He'd created cat-hybrids.


Epilogue soon to follow.

[Egan_BW]

^{_{Hayat please still be alive, Hayat please still be alive. I couldn't stand to be ruled by the Arstotzkan king just because of some mentally disabled traitors.}}

[evictedSaint]

949: Epilogue

The city of Arstotzka burns.

Black, oily smoke curls up over the city as the Alannar from Mehmed's Phoenix does its work.  The palace itself is a pile of rubble wreathed in green flames, which even days later continue to burn.  The few ships anchored in the harbor are all capsized or sunk from the sudden evacuation of the Vaulters group.

Moskurg loyalists fight Moskurg traitors fight Arstotzkan loyalists fight Arstotzkan traitors fight Arstotzkan Vaulters. 

The Vaulters make good use of Helmacon's dropship, hitting isolated groups and taking up the most defensive locations in the city.  They're few in number, however; less than 200, and each skirmish whittles them down to fewer members.  When the Vault disappears into the sky without them many out-right surrender.  The Arstotzkan rebels vastly out-number the loyalists, but with Hardrada's death and Andre's crystal mech Bjorn makes quick work of any who stand against his rightful rule.  By the end of the day Arstotzka's remaining forces are severely reduced, but all under the same flag.

For Moskurg, the rebels were fewer in number to begin with, and many were simply misinformed by Mehmed's treachery.  Once Hayat flew up to deal with her brother, al-Mutriqa made use of the Shortwave Teletalk to rally any mages who were listening on the broadband.  With Mehmed's death and the might of all of Moskurg's mages rallied behind him, al-Mutriqa put an end to the rebellion with surprising ease.

Hayat, luckily, was saved by her betrothed.  After plummeting from the sky and landing in the the harbor, Bjorn quickly dove into the freezing waters and pulled her free as the Vaulters ship disappeared into the sky above.  Andres was quite upset that Bjorn risked his life to save the Moskurg Sultana.  He argued fervently to let the girl die then and there and allow Arstotzka to steam-roll the lightly-defended Moskurg capitol to the south, but Bjorn denied his request.  Though the marriage ceremony had been interrupted, he still made a sacred vow before his father, the nobles of Arstotzka, and even Moskurgs God that his Kingdom would be passed on to her children.  There be none so cursed as an oathbreaker - he would not follow the same path that led Hardrada to ruin.


The fires in the city mostly went out within the next two days, and the green flames that had engulfed the palace went out five days after that.  The palace was little more than a charred pit by that point, but there were more pressing matters than the loss of Arstotzka's history. 

Once again the living began the arduous task of burying the dead.  Large portions of the city were ash, and in those areas only crystal buildings stood.  The captured Vaulters and remaining Arstotzkan nobility who'd rebelled were tried and executed for traitors and oathbreakers, as well as the Moskurgers who'd willingly followed Mehmed in the assassination of the Sultan.  Rebuilding went slower this time, as there were fewer mages left alive to assist in the reconstruction.  Moskurg kept the skies clear and churned out as much adamantium as they could, and Arstotzka raised crystal buildings as quickly as possible. 

Bjorn and Hayat concluded their arranged marriage shortly after control had been regained, opting for a small, quick ceremony on the frozen shore.  The loyalists of the design teams were in attendance; or at least those who were still alive.  Kadzar, who'd managed to escape after loosing his falcons ended up weeping softly as they said their "I do's".  Egan_BW participated in the security of the event, this time giving out his Single Action Allah's to only those who'd proved their loyalty.  Taricus stood by in his adamantium armor, a thick cloth wrapped around his sword - it helped muffle the screaming, which had not stopped since the fighting.  Kashyyk was unfortunately unable to attend, as he'd opened up a shop in the ruined bazaar hawking his Lightning Repeater rifles as "Home Defense - for when the looters come!"  Andres was likewise unable to attend as Bjorn had ordered the production of more crystal mechs to rebuild the defense of the city.  It was highly suspected that Andres' unhappiness with the impending alliance made him unwelcome, but those were merely rumors.  Jilladilla stood by with BBBence1111; Jilladilla had become quick friends with BBBence1111 after the rescue during the duel between Bjorn and Hardrada.  BBBence1111, ever the opportunist, quickly agreed that he'd meant to attack the guards rather than burn Jilladilla alive, and that he was most certainly a supporter of Bjorn and the new Arstotzka and that he would never, ever betray his lord in any way, ever. 

Aboard the Vaulters ship, the crew has begun to notice the subtle changes.  Though they were first dismissed as an adaptation to the zero-g of space, the crucial detail that revealed the magical nature of their changes was the development of whiskers.  It took a while to pinpoint how the changes were occurring, but by the time their ears had become pointy and their pupils morphed to vertical slits they realized it was the Aetherfarm.  Fallacy was promptly ejected out the airlock and the crew set to work trying to reverse-engineer the farm to reverse the effects.  Sadly, Fallacy had independently developed the farm himself, and his notes were indecipherable scratches littered with doodles of cats.  Work on the teleporter (or what little work was being done) was paused to figure out this problem.  It is unknown whether the crew succeeded, but the world can rest easy knowing all of Arstotzka's prized artifacts are orbiting earth with the best and brightest.

Once the marriage had been concluded and the city had been stabilized, Hayat proposed that the two kingdoms build a new capitol for the Unified Forenia, on the eastern coast where the grassy plains would make growth easy.  There both rulers could reside and rule their respective realms while still honoring their marriage.  The new capitol goes up quickly, using in large parts Arstotzka's crystal and Moskurg's adamantium.  The city included features such as an airship tower where ships could park without having to land, a university that combined both realms education systems and furthered their understanding of magic, and cutting-edge defensive emplacements that made use of both sides combined weaponry.  Integration of both Arstotzka and Moskurg went slowly, as both sides were keen to remember the rather gruesome execution of captured prisoners.  Brawls, shoot-outs, and stand-offs were a common sight in the new capitol, as well as rather vicious rioting.  Attempts to stifle rioting only resulted in more brutal, vicious riots, so a compromise was made.  The Ministry of Riots restricted rioting to a certain section of the city at a time, and only on weekends to prevent the disruption of commerce.  The solution surprised everyone by working, and "Major-League Rioting" became the realm's new favorite past-time.

News came slowly from across the sea.  Apparently the exportation of magical artifacts had kick-started a new "magical revolution" around the world, particularly in a set of islands to the west between Forenia and China.  These reports were worrisome, but for now the magical firestorm seemed contained to a small, shitty set of islands called "Turbados".  For now, Forenia was at peace for the first time in a long time, and that was a welcome change.

And thus ends the tale of Wands Race.

I hope I did it justice, and that those who played along enjoyed themselves.  I'd like to thank Iituem for starting the game and permitting me to take it over once he was indisposed - the setting was wonderfully unique from most Arms Races on the forum at that time.  It was quite a bit more work than I was expecting, but I'm happy to have finished and join the ranks of those who have actually ended an Arms Race.  Perhaps one day I'll elevate that status to "People Who Have Both Started and Finished an Arms Race", but I am content for the moment with the more humble of those two achievements.  This marks the official end to this game, and I encourage people to read both threads if they find the time and inclination.  The way both sides went about developing their weapons is wonderfully unique and quite entertaining to read. 

If you enjoyed my writing (as contrived, stilted, and cobbled-together as it may be) I would encourage you to read The Littlest Cheesemaker - a webcomic I've been working on for quite a while!  I'd actually taken a break from it to work on this game, but now that it's finished I expect I'll give TLCM some TLC.

Thank you all for reading!

Glory to Forenia!

[Taricus]

How can china be nearby? We're in the north atlantic unless Zan's spell REALLY fucked up.

[Madman198237]

GLORY TO FORENIA!

Hail the conquering hero, evictedSaint, the second GM to ever finish an Arms Race game!



It's been a nice run, guys. A really nice run. All good things must end, so I depart.
MARCH ON, MOSKURGERS! FOR ALLAH!



To any Arstotzkans who are reading, good game.

[Iituem]

Glory to Forenia!