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Adharc'aon

The God of the Hunt, Beasts, and Fertility

0 · 408 views · located in Pandeum

a character in “The Gods of Pandeum”, as played by TiMMMaY!!!

Description

God


  • God Name: Adharc'aon - often called "The Horned God", "The Hunter", or "Old Horny", but the latter used only at the speakers' own peril.

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  • Title: The God of the Hunt, the Beasts, and Fertility

  • Gender: Male

  • Alignment: Neutral, more inclined towards Lawful Good when concerning his Followers.

  • God Appearance: Adharc'aon, like many of the other deities of Pandeum, may manifest himself in many different forms. However, he is always male, and always has some form of antlers or horns on his head. He can appear as a wolf, bear, bull, minotaur, and various other Beasts or Hybrids, frequently accompanied by an exceptionally rare or strange Beast, or troupe thereof. There is no mistaking the arrival of Adharc'aon. Most commonly, he appears as a hybrid of a man and a stag, sometimes with a human head and sometimes not, carrying either a bow or a spear.

  • Origins: In the beginning of Mortals' time, gathering and foraging were the primary means to find food. But Mortals were possessed of a voracious appetite. They began to hunt. Adharc'aon, before becoming Adharc'aon the Deity, was nothing more than Essence. A spirit, a shadow, conjured into being by the Will of Mortals. The will to Hunt, Kill, Feed, and Breed. He was not a God, was not even capable of truly manifesting in any form, but followed Hunters and Prey as a perpetual fog. Growing stronger over centuries in the endless cycle of Mortal appetite, absorbing the Essences of fallen Hunter and Prey, Adharc'aon was finally born. Still far too infantile and frail near the end of the War between the Archaic and the Young, Adharc'aon maintained his distance from other Deities, instead focusing his energy on Mortals. Those who became displaced or disenfranchised from their Gods turned to this new, primal force, and so his following grew. Now, Adharc'aon's eyes are drawn to promising Hunters and Worthy prey. Occasionally, he may manifest himself to those viewed worthy enough and invite them into his Circle.

  • Personality: As a Deity of the Hunt, Adharc'aon is often perceived as bloodthirsty and savage by those unfamiliar with his ways, however as a Deity of all Natural Beasts he is capable of embodying traits belonging to both the predator and the prey. A Just and Fair God, he abhors the slaughter of ones own people except for in extreme circumstances, such as self-defense or protection of prey that is taken unfairly. To him, prey can be any living thing, but in order for a follower to hunt another of his own race or species, Adharc'aon must first give his blessing, else said follower will fall from his graces and become the hunted. Strangely to some, Adharc'aon finds it perfectly acceptable for, as an example, an Elf to hunt a Human, or vice versa, so long as the prey is never unfairly taken. As the God of Fertility, men and women pray to him to look favourably upon them and grant them Conception or for their children to be born unblemished and without deformity. Commonly, he ignores the pleas of Mortals whom are weak or have not proven themselves worthy hunters, so offerings of difficult-to-kill prey serve those who seek his blessings well.

  • Mythology & Ritual: Always has Adharc'aon existed, since Mortals first took up spears and bows to Hunt their Prey, and so his presence is no secret across the entire continent of Pandeum. However, he is typically viewed as a Heathen God, and many avoid worship of him, in spite of his widespread presence. But those that do incite his name and beseech his blessing, and who offer substantial sacrifice, are often greeted warmly and with benevolence. Any Mortal can call upon Adharc'aon, as he is not a Jealous God, allowing his followers to worship other Deities without penalty. To those who wish to become Shapeshifters, civilized life must be neglected, in favour of the life of a Hunter. Should one fail to appease him, then their powers will be stripped, and if he is offended, they may also become Prey to his more devout. Many Rituals are also performed in his honor, but they follow no true set of rules. A sufficient gathering of Mortals seeking Adharc'aon can often conjure up a manifestation of him. Typically, when he manifests to a Ritual Gathering, mad bouts of lust seize the Mortals, sometimes not to the liking of uninvolved passersby.

  • Concerning Hybrids: As a Young God, Adharc'aon cannot claim to be the sole creator of hybrid creatures. He is however, known to fuse certain Beasts together in order to create more challenging Prey, or even to create new Predators. Also, when a Hunter has earned his favor and performed a sufficient ritual, The Horned God has been rumoured to grant mortals the gift of becoming a Hybrid.

  • Opinion of Mortals: "My Followers, for so long as they shall not fall from my grace, are my esteemed Hunters. All others are only potential Prey." - Adharc'aon does not actively encourage the slaying of Mortals, but when presented with the choice between a devout Follower and some other, may the best Hunter win. This disposition may appear to be callous and cold, but the Natural way of things is for the most capable to survive, whether they be predator or prey.

  • God’s Domain: Adharc'aon resides on a plane of never-ending woods, forests, glades and meadows abundantly filled with all varieties of Beasts. In this place, there is no conflict between Mortals, only the Hunt, extending on through all eternity. In an ever-repeating cycle, the Hunters endeavour to track and kill their Prey, only to become the Prey once they succeed. Very few Mortals ever gain entry to his plane, called "Fhorais'ielge", and once within, one can never leave, except for Adharc'aon's Avatar.

  • Avatar Name: Lenwë, The Hunter of Man, The Poisoned Horn, or The Green Stag; Sometimes Lenwë Nightshade by his acquaintances, although his people do not commonly have surnames.

  • Avatar Appearance: Rather tall for a Woodlands Elf, Lenwë comes in at about 6'3" with a slender, athletic physique. His features, like many Elves', are sharp and angular, with a well-defined chin tapering off the bottom of his face, full soft-looking but colourless grey lips, a short pointed nose, and angular green eyes. Although completely unblemished, his almost death-like grey complexion, as well as his jet-black hair, is entirely natural for his particular breed of Elves, known as the Deepwood Elves(hence the surname he was given), that dwell in forests and jungles so dense that they are drowned in perpetual darkness, the light of day never breaking through the overhead canopy. Lenwë's other features, the vibrantly glowing green eyes, the luminous cavity in the left side of his chest, and the tree-bark armour are all unique to him. The armour is a working of his own Nature-based magic, but his eyes only glowed the brilliant green of today after Adharc'aon chose him as Avatar. The cavity in Lenwë's chest was once in fact a mortal wound delivered by the patron-deity himself, Adharc'aon having gouged him with one massive antler at the climax of his trials.

  • Personality: In spite of his rather grim reputation and some of the more unfriendly names he has been given, Lenwë is actually a rather dignified, noble, and polite individual. Perhaps these traits can be said to belong to any Woodlands Elf, along with their natural-born grace and affinity for nature, but the reason his demeanor is so shocking is because Adharc'aon's Chosen is rumoured across the continent to be a merciless and cold-blooded murderer. Since many people believe Adharc'aon to be a Deity for Heathens and otherwise godless Mortals, and fewer still understand anything about Adharc'aon's Tenants, it is naturally assumed that the Avatar of such a God must be some sort of monster.

  • Magic Abilities: (Granted by Adharc'aon) Like any other of the Deities' chosen Avatars, Lenwë is frozen in time, never to age and never to die of any natural ailment. Being an Elf, he was long-lived anyways, and was a young 143 years of age when he earned Adharc'aon's favor and became the Avatar of the Hunt. But being the Chosen of a God comes with some small perks...

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    ~Shapeshifting~ Although not a unique gift from Adharc'aon, as he gives all the favoured ones in the Inner Circle this power, Lenwë is the only one with such freedom in its' use. While others must choose to take the forms of Natural Beasts from either the Circle of the Land, the Circle of the Sea, or the Circle of the Sky, and only creatures from that Circle, ever, Lenwë can transform into Beasts coming from any of the three Circles. Adharc'aon could not, unfortunately, grant him the freedom to use more than five seperate Beast forms. The ability to transform into a specific Beast can only be earned by
    Successfully and Fairly Hunting and Slaying said Beast in one of its' Natural Environments and Learning its' Essence. Trading out one Essence of a Beast for another is possible after one reaches his limit, but everytime the Essence must be acquired through the Hunt. Lenwë possesses five Essences, the Wolf, the Hawk, the Shark, the Serpent, and the Spider. Lenwë alone can vary the size of the Beast that he shapeshifts into, but not to any ridiculous sizes.

    ~Beast-Speak~ Adharc'aon did not give this gift lightly. For a Hunter to be able to commune with and influence potential Prey to do his bidding goes against the rotation of every Life Circle, and providing Lenwë with such a power was a show of Faith that is not often given to a Mortal by a God. With this telepathic ability, Lenwë can speak to any Natural Beast and command it, by the God of the Hunt, to do his bidding. Capable of only working within a few miles' radius after an initial connection has been made, this can also be used to see through the eyes of the Beast or even assume complete control. While Lenwë can make suggestions to and see through the eyes of countless Beasts so long as they remain within his radius, he can only ever control one at a time, regardless of size. With this ability he can also remain telepathically linked with other shapeshifters and see through their eyes, if they allow him to. This power comes with conditions; Lenwë is strictly prohibited from using Beast-Speak on a creature and then 'Hunting' it. Also, he is not allowed to use Beast-Speak so as to allow another to 'Hunt' it. Certain rare or mythical Beasts are entirely unaffected by suggestions Lenwë makes with Beast-Speak; i.e. a Unicorn, a Pegasus, a Dragon, a Kraken, cannot be controlled.

    ~Adharc'aon's Fertility~ More an ability to give blessings than an actual power or spellcraft, Lenwë has become a conduit for Adharc'aon to reach those who pray to him. To those deemed worthy, Conception can be guaranteed to women, or even be made to occur without the presence of a mate, birth defects guarded against, and children born strong and unblemished.

  • Magic Abilities: (Known before becoming Avatar)

    ~Natural Magick~ Not uncommon amongst Woodlands Elves, Natural Magick is an affinity for the Natural World, and is only strong in an individual who has a reverence for it. With it, the growth of plants may be accelerated significantly, and physical injuries may be mended quickly. Of course, there are limitations. Lenwë's healing magic works in the form of a sappy fluid that can stop bleeding and promote a more rapid closing of the wound than is natural. Severed limbs and the like cannot be regenerated with his talents. With intense focus on an individual, toxins may be purged from the body, often through normal orifices in the form of a putrid black ooze. Also, Lenwë's tree-bark armour is bound to his body via use of this magic, which is also how he would mend it or reinforce it should the need arise. His armour grants increases to the physical body-parts abilities it is bound to, his hands and his legs, thus giving him increased running speed, jumping power, and greater sureness of grip. Of course, this is nothing extreme, but a devoted practitioner of Natural Magick may be capable of augmenting Lenwë's armour further.

    ~Alchemical Expertise~ While not a power per se, a long Elven life gave Lenwë time to do more than pursue perfection of only martial prowess. The mixing of potions and identification of ingredients varying from flora to fauna, such as certain flower petals that grant healing properties when mixed correctly into a boiling mixture, to river-dwelling fish which possess kidneys that produce potent toxic gas when exposed to a flame.

  • Hero: Elisedd Caratacos, Leader of the Shark-men, member of the Inner Circle, battle-captain of the Horned Men, younger son of Cynwrig Caratacos

    Rank/Reason: As a member of the Inner Circle of Adharc'aon, Elisedd is among the most influential and well-known people in the Commonwealth. On top of this claim to fame, his father is known as the Artabraic Bear, and has created a legacy that his son is hard-pressed to live up to.

    Personality: Sharp of wit and sometimes abrasive of tongue, Elisedd is a purely forthcoming Artabri. His words are blunt to the point of occassionally being offensive, but his heart is in the right place. He fiercely believes in the ideals of the Commonwealth, being freedom, strength, self-reliance, and the inability to kneel to Mortal-kind. He is a close friend and advisor of the Avatar, Lenwë.

  • Hero: Cynwrig Caratacos, the Artabraic Bear, Leader of the Claw-men, Elder of the Inner Circle, battle-master of the Horned Men

    Rank/Reason: As an Elder of the Inner Circle, Cynwrig's words bear the weight of an avalanche. His opinions are respected and stories are told of him throughout the Commonwealth. In his youth he was a Hunter of legendary renown, rumoured even to have slain a dragon in his heyday. Now, he serves as the premiere military leader of the Commonwealth, in direct command of the shapeshifting Claw-men and second in command of the Horned Men, with the Avatar coming in first.

    Personality: Blunt, like both his sons, and loyal to the death to the Commonwealth and his God, Adharc'aon. With a single-mindedness and brutal demeanor, he lives as the embodiement of the Bear that is his favored Essence. Nothing stands in his way, nothing shakes his resolve, and nothing survives a bear mauling.

  • Hero: Drest Caratacos, the Red Bear, skirmish-leader of the Claw-men, elder son of Cynwrig Caratacos

    Rank/Reason: The ideological Claw-man, Drest embodies the primal fury, passion, and strength of a Beast. While not yet proven to lead anything larger than squads of men into actual battle, nor proven to keep a tactical mindset amidst the heat of the fray, no one questions his strength or ability as a Hunter.

    Personality: Sharing the trait in common with his father and younger brother, Drest lets you know exactly what is on his mind. The difference with Drest is, what's normally on his mind appears only to be bestial roars and ferocious profanities. And that's the reason he's only a skirmish-leader, and unable as of yet to join the Horned Men.

  • Hero: Duvainel, Priestess of the Deep Sect of Cthykull, battle-captain of the Claw-men, Elder of the Inner Circle

    Rank/Reason: At 312 years old, Duvainel is a well-versed, well-trained individual that excels in the Shadow and Spirit Magics practiced by her people's Deep Sect, as well as an extraordinary shot with the bow. Having risen above the suspicion she was originally met with when joining Artabraic society, she is now a deeply respected member of the Claw-men and the Inner Circle.

    Personality: Cold, Independent, and Unrelenting are the three words that best describe her demeanor. But devotion to her people and her Deep Sect come before all else, leading some to question how loyal to the Artabri she would remain if her people were threatened by outside forces.

  • Hero: Ninian Folte, lone member of the Hawk-men, member and Envoy of the Inner Circle, skirmish-leader of the Horned Men

    Rank/Reason: Being the only current Hawk-man(or woman), Ninian is a treasured asset to the Inner Circle, most commonly being used only as a messenger and envoy to diplomatic purposes. She is relatively famous amongst the Artabri, and is frequently propositioned by men seeking to be her mate and "Help her to carry on the Order of Hawk-men,".

    Personality: True to her people and the Commonwealth, Ninian is also a realist and can sometimes be extremely grim in tough times. The other members of the Inner Circle are reluctant to send her into dangerous regions, fearing for the future of the Hawk-men should she perish, but as any Hunter of Adharc'aon, Ninian is always anxious to prove herself and take the most dangerous or reclusive Prey for herself.

  • Hero: Boadicea Genovefa, the renowned Headhuntress and unofficial commander of the Artabraic Bounty Hunters, battle-captain of the Claw-men, member of the Inner Circle, battle-captain of the Horned Men

    Rank/Reason: With a legacy surrounding her that rivals that of the Artabraic Bear, Boadicea is known far and wide across Pandeum as the Headhuntress because she always claims the heads of her targets to make into personal trophies. Also in control of most of the Bounty Hunters' treasury earned from assassination and tracking jobs, she is frequently asked to aid the Commonwealth in monetary form.

    Personality: Light-hearted and carefree in most all things, Boadicea does not seem to match the dreadful reputation of the Headhuntress. A strong supporter of the freedom principles that define the Commonwealth.

  • Hero: Cian Kai, Currently a Prisoner in Slaghbra's Pit, former Claw-man and Horned Man

    Rank/Reason: A murderer, a thief, and an arsonist that fell from Adharc'aon's grace and was stripped of his title of Horned Man and stripped of his ability to shapeshift. Living in Slabhra Pit has only made him a more dangerous individual, even without the ability to transform into a Beast. However, the coming of the Harvest brings with it the chance for freedom, and rebirth in the forge of Fómhar Fola.

    Personality: Ruthless and merciless to a fault, Cian Kai is a creature of base instinct and desire. Born in the Commonwealth, a land lacking many laws and promoting freedom gave him opportunity to follow his desires. Unfortunately for him, attempting to steal the daughter of a farmer who retired from the life of the Horned Men became too big an issue to get away with. When a group of Horned Men tracked him and the daughter down, he saw fighting as the only means to escape and killed two of his former brothers before being knocked unconscious from behind and subsequently thrown into the Pit of Slabhra.

  • Hero: Chief Dalug gul'Rask of the Bonespear Orcs, battle-master of the Claw-men, member of the Inner Circle

  • Hero: Keba gul'Rask, son of the Chief, member of the Claw-men

  • Hero: Kera gul'Rask, daughter of the Chief, member of the Claw-men, member of the Horned Men

  • Hero: Harpy Queen Nephyra

    Rank/Reason: The reigning Queen of the savage Bloodtalon Harpies that reside atop the mountain region just North of Gol'riasc. Currently not aligned with the Commonwealth.

    Personality: Told to be savage, bloodthirsty, and both terrifying and beautiful all at once, she keeps her sharp eyes and ears alert to the goings on of the world outside the Gol'riasc mountain region. She has a taste for jewels and things of beauty, rumored even to collect humans that she deems beautiful.

  • Terrain Preference: As a society of mostly Hunters, the Artabri go where the best game can be found. However, the Lands of the Commonwealth are for the most part densely forested. Few roads and settlements are found in the wilderness of their nation. The Déithamach Peninsula juts out into the Sea, and within sight of its' clifftops are the Crescent Isles, an archipelago of four small islands that form the shape of a crescent moon.

  • Name of Kingdom/Empire: The Artabraic Commonwealth

  • Capitol:

    ~Adrobricam Urbem~ The mountain-fortress that doubles as the capitol to the Commonwealth. It once belonged to a proud Dwarven society that was wiped out in the time of the War of the Gods, some say by the Cthykull Deep Elves. No trace or written records were left in the Dwarven Halls, leading some to speculate that the Dwarves had discovered something not meant to be found, prior to being exterminated by whatever force was responsible.

  • Major Cities:

    ~Cathair-sa-Chuan~ The City in the Bay, the major trading port of the Commonwealth, and the only coastal city to have a Harbour. Shacks, lean-to's and warehouses massed around the docks, with only one main road winding through it all to the massive oaken gates of the city proper. Thick stone walls that appear to have been stacked haphazardly separate the more important warehouses, shops, and residences of the Artabri folk from the chaos of the docks. With a sheer cliff at the city's back, Cathair-sa-Chuan sits nestled from outside influences, and a series of mineshafts descend into the face of the cliff.

    ~Faire Thuaidh~ The largest settlement in the Northern Commonwealth, Faire Thuaidh serves little purpose in regards to outsiders. No roads lead up the mountains to the oak and evergreen rich plateau on which the sprawling encampments that make up Faire Thuaidh reside. Largely untouched by any people aside from the Artabri, this region is a veritable paradise hidden away in the mountain forests. Winter frosts come early, and a variety of Prey passes through the area with the changing of seasons. The only way to reach Faire Thuaidh is by following the river up into the mountains, with occasional game trails easing the journey upward. The highest mountains above Faire Thuaidh are rich in gold, and every other month a shipment of the precious metal is ferried downstream.

    ~Bonespear Stronghold~ While the Bonespear Orcs have camps spread throughout the Central Commonwealth, they only refer to one as their Stronghold. Outsiders are never allowed here, and only rarely do Artabraic citizens who are not Orcish visit. Two-thousand Orcs live there permanently, breeding their Wargs and training their young in the arts of war.

    ~Tribal Grounds of Cthykull~ Hallowed ground, forbidden to outsiders and unwelcoming to even members of the Inner Circle, the thick forestlands just West of the Gol-riasc wetlands loom in ominous silence. Visible from the South Road, those entering the Commonwealth instantly get a taste of just how it feels to be stalked Prey, with ever-present but never-seen Elvish eyes upon you. Great spiders lurk in the overshadowing canopy of the region and vicious serpents lurk in the waters of the lakes and rivers nearby.

    ~Gealach Tine~ An active volcano and makeshift village of lean-to's and temporary huts that share the same name. The village is notable for being the primary place of harvest for the famed Mindstool mushroom, while the mountain is notable for being the only active volcano in the Commonwealth.

    ~Slabhra Prison~ Home to the major offenders of the Commonwealth, as well as the source for one of the most famous Artabraic traditions, Slabhra is a damp, sheer, slippery-sided pit used for criminal storage. With a steel grate covering the top, the only potential way out is a series of underwater tunnels accessible from the south-eastern corner of the pit. These submerged complexes of caverns, however, are guarded by the Shark-men, and criminals are subject to exemption from Adharc'aon's rule against hunting ones' own kind. Once yearly, at the time of the Harvest, the steel grate is removed from the top of the Slabhra pit, ropes thrown down to the prisoners, and those who have served a full year and no less are given the chance for freedom and redemption from their crimes. Fómhar Fola begins.

    Fómhar Fola- "The Blood Harvest" At the coming of the Harvest Moon, criminals who have served a year and no less are freed from Slabhra Prison, and offered freedom and forgiveness if they can reach either tip of the Crescent Isles. There, rowboats await, along with bread and fresh water. But not only are the prisoners being offered a gift. So too are those against whom crimes were commited, or have been commited to their respective families. In fact, every Hunter in the Commonwealth is permitted to join in Fómhar Fola, in the Hunt for the prisoners of Slabhra. The Crescent Isles teem with the muffled movements of Hunters and shapeshifters anxious to sink arrows, axes, spears, or teeth into villainous men. Prisoners who reach a tip of the Isles are granted freedom and forgiveness, as promised, and may either rejoin Artabraic society or flee the Commonwealth, as they please.

    ~Nephyra's Nest~ Perch and Roost of the Legendary Harpy, Queen Nephyra. A derelict volcano serves as her nest proper, with an ancient Dwarven ruin built into the Northern face. Her brood of Harpies live scattered throughout this mountain region in caverns, Dwarven Halls, and high atop Dwarven towers. Although the South and East Roads give Nephyra's Nest a wide berth, when the trees occasionally break the dead volcano and Dwarven towers become visible. With no formal alliance or understanding between the Harpies and the rest of the Commonwealth, attacks sometimes occur on the roads or Hunters that are brave enough may venture up the mountains toward the dreadful Nest of Nephyra.

    ~Gol'riasc~ "Weeping Marsh" Situated between Nephyra's Nest, the ocean, and the Tribal Grounds of Cthykull, Gol'riasc is a mass of swampland, slow-moving rivers, and stagnant bodies of water. It is also home to many of the Commonwealth's more exotic and deadly creatures, such as the Swamp Wolf.

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  • Society:



    People- While originally the homeland of the fair-haired and pale-skinned humans known as the Artabri, the Commonwealth is now home to all variety of Mortal races. Now less a race and more an idea, Hunters who are devout to Adharc'aon may earn the right to be called Artabri. Artabraic people are generally accepting of other cultures entering the Commonwealth, with strong belief in freedom and self-reliance, and that the strong will prosper, while the weak will only survive. Many adopted Artabri worship another God aside from Adharc'aon, and normally face no persecution for it. Every citizen is a capable hunter or fighter, unless grown too old or otherwise crippled, or not yet having reached adulthood. Outsiders are permitted to live in certain areas of the Commonwealth, especially tradesmen, miners, loggers, fishermen, or farmers, and many proven Hunters often retire to one of these pursuits.

    Economy- With abundant trees, Beasts, exotic natural fruits, and mountains rich in minerals or metals, the Artabraic Commonwealth has plenty to trade. However, lacking formal infrastructure, there is hardly anyone to actually transport goods out of the country. Instead, they allow trade to come to them, with lumber mills placed along the main road that traverses the thick forests and occasional mining routes breaking through the underbrush, commerce is there for those who search it out. The Harbour-city of Cathair-sa-Chuan openly allows merchant vessels to make port to trade or buy furs, minerals, metals, and the especially popular Mindstool mushroom or Redtooth Moss found exclusively on the Crescent Isles.


    ~Mindstool~ "You can just set it here for a while." A hallucinogenic mushroom found exclusively on the Crescent Isles that when eaten, causes intense hallucinations, makes one incredibly energetic, and after growing accustomed to the hallucinations a loss of fear, a sense of invulnerability, to the point of even completely losing one's sense of self-preservation. The cap is about six inches in diameter in fully grown specimens, and a radiant turquoise color. The stem is incredibly poisonous except to individuals who have built up a tolerance to the effects of the cap over years of regular use. Mindstool is a sought-after item for young nobility and the privileged who want to let their brains out for a while. A great export for the Commonwealth!

    ~Redtooth Moss~ A moss that, when smoked, gives a sense of euphoria and a complete loss of the sense of time. Every physical sensation is heightened, but the user has no desire to move. Produces red smoke, which can dye the teeth a reddish tint permanently. It is only harvested off of trees on the Crescent Isles.

    Politics- While the people of the Commonwealth are largely a free folk, the true government of the Artabri is run by the Inner Circle of Adharc'aon. Proven hunters, warriors, and the Avatar of the Hunt are the only accepted members of this circle, numbering twelve in total, which acts as a council when coming to important decisions that affect the entire Commonwealth. Their word is law, after the word of Adharc'aon, in a nation that may appear to be largely lawless. More often than not, however, they allow the Artabraic Society and Economy to work on their own, allowing the free competition of trade, and for local people to resolve their own conflicts.

  • Other:

  • The Intertwined Circles: The Natural Circles of the Land, the Sea, and the Sky

    Circle of the Land- This circle is composed of the Beasts which naturally live on land, arguably including sentient Mortal beings.

    ~Order of Claw-men~ Faithful of Adharc'aon are sometimes granted the ability to shapeshift. This is done by fairly hunting a Beast and claiming its' Essence. Claw-men are those who can claim the Essence of Beasts of the Land.

    Circle ot the Sea- This circle is composed of the Beasts which naturally live in bodies of water. Amphibious creatures classify as Beasts of the Sea.

    ~Order of Shark-men~ Far more rare than Claw-men, those who can claim the Essence of the Beasts of the Sea are a valued and esteemed part of Artabraic Society, especially in settlements along the coast.

    Circle of the Sky- Beasts which can sustain flight, whether they are also capable of living on land or in water, belong to the Circle of the Sky.

    ~Order of Hawk-men~ The most rare occurrence of all, hardly ever numbering more than a handful, Hawk-men were thought to have died out ten years ago, when the last one mysteriously vanished. However, another has finally shown her affinity for the Circle of the Sky, and continues their legacy today.

  • The Horned Men: The elite of all Claw, Shark, and Hawk-men, the Horned Men are the most prestigious organized force in the Commonwealth. Although they do not possess powers any greater than those unordained with horns, they were not given their positions for no reason. Masters of tactics, stealth, and open combat, Horned Men are not to be trifled with. Often they serve as the honour guard of the Avatar and other members of the Inner Circle on expeditions outside of the Commonwealth. In times of peace, a majority of them are known to spend their days in Beast-form without ever changing back until called on to serve again.

  • The Inner Circle: Entry is only given to those who have served Adharc'aon well, taking the most evasive or dangerous of Prey as tribute to their God. There is always to be twelve, including at least three Elders and no more than six. The Avatar is guaranteed a place in the Inner Circle, but the Avatar's word is no greater than any of the other eleven. The collective word of the Inner Circle is the Law of the Commonwealth, second only to the word of The Horned God.

    NOTE: Claw, Shark, and Hawk-men are only allowed one Beast form at a time. This also goes for Horned Men. Essence may be traded for another, but this will force the loss of the first. Individuals are born with an affinity for Land, Sea, or Sky, they do not get to choose. Members of the Inner Council are allowed two Beast forms. The Essence of Hybrids cannot be claimed.

  • The Bounty Hunters: An Order founded by former Horned Men, The Bounty Hunters are a loose affiliation of Artabraic Mortals, whether they are natural-born Artabri or adopted into the culture, that serve Adharc'aon by Preying upon other sentient Mortals. So long as the Hunt is Fair(one Hunter for one Prey), and one does not Hunt his own kind, except for under special circumstances, The Horned God will view this brand of Hunting as worthy Tribute. Of course, The Bounty Hunters also charge a price that merits the risk.

  • The Bonespear Clan: A displaced and Godless clan of Orcs that settled in the central Commonwealth during the time of the War between the Gods Archaic and Young, the Bonespears were one of the first cultures to actively worship The Horned God, in the time when Adharc'aon still had difficulty manifesting himself and had not even made his own name. Bonespear Orcs are a part of a society infused with hunting and killing. Many Bonespears become Claw-men and Horned Men, and they are accepted fully as citizens of the Artabraic Commonwealth, although they choose to live separately in their own settlements scattered throughout the central region.

  • The Deepwood Tribe of Cthykull: The Deepwood Elves of Cthykull are one of many Deepwood Tribes scattered throughout forested regions on Pandeum. They were always resident in the Commonwealth, long before it was called by its' modern name, and they existed when the Artabri first learned the ways of the Hunt. Remaining abstract, distant and removed from outside societies for the most part, the Cthykull are not considered to be Artabraic, nor are they considered enemies. They simply are. Although they do not all worship Adharc'aon, a large portion of them have accepted The Horned God into their lives as part of the Natural Cycle, alongside their polytheistic belief in various Nature Deities. Their deepest sects, however, give praise to the dead, and rather than worshipping any Deities they worship their ancestors.

More pending; I'm tired and don't feel like it right now.. lol

So begins...

Adharc'aon's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Luman and Cali Character Portrait: Asger and Tryne Character Portrait: Tyler Character Portrait: Ulmo Character Portrait: Montayzuomah Character Portrait: Tashiek Character Portrait: Shem Character Portrait: Norack/ Rinen T. Hawk Character Portrait: Adharc'aon Character Portrait: Anaria'tal Character Portrait: LiesseiL Character Portrait: Muertina Character Portrait: Kaellarak Character Portrait: Kairos & Kallandra
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Cali and Luman

“There is a shift in energy manifesting.” Luman said as he stroked his chin, two golden eyes focused on checkered board in front of him. He reached out, moving his the white form of one of his knights several spaces forward. “Yes, I’m very away, my love.” Cali said as she cornered her husband’s ivory king with a dark queen. “It’s a emptiness unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.” She looked up from the board, amusement flickering in her ebony colored eyes. “I believe I won this game.” Luman chuckled, running his fingers through his hair as leaned back in his throne. “I believe so, my dear. Your cleverness knows no bounds.” The Lady of Shadows smirked, rising from her obsidian seat and walking about the chessboard. She sat in her husband’s lap, draping her legs over his throne’s armrest. “Now,” she started. “We must prepare for this coming change, whatever it is. Regardless of whether it’s dark or light, something with this much energy is bound to knock everything out of balance.”

Luman nodded. “I know, that’s what I’m worried about. We’ve all come to such a good place. The nations are healthy, the Treaty goes unthreatened, and for a while, I thought we’d have actual harmony.” “Well, you know what they say.” Cali said. “A God’s work is never finished.” Luman smiled weakly and leaned over, kissing the goddess on her nose. “Why must you always be so insightful?” “It’s a blessing and a curse, to be quite frank.” Ebony smirked as she got up, her leathery wings lifting her several inches off the ground. “We should spread the word among the gods.” Luman nodded, standing up and walking over to the nearest window. A ball of light formed in his hand and he brought it to his lips. “Go give word to our brothers.” And it flew off into the realms of the other gods, where it would give the same message.

“Something is coming. Be prepared.”

Dolus Magnus

The crown was heavy on Dolus’ head. It’s golden halo and sparkling jewels filled the white of his hair with colored light. The tips of his elongated ears rubbed against the crown’s rim, causing their pointed ends to slightly redden with irritation. As the bastard prince looked into the mirror, he couldn’t bring himself to smile. The crown wasn’t meant to be worn by someone who looked like him. The dull silver in his eyes deepened with the slight pang of sadness he felt. He starred in the mirror for several moments, a look of concentration on his face, before his appearance began to subtly ripple and change.

The marks on his skin faded, his hair turned a warm brown, and his ears shortened and rounded out, not leaving a hint of their barbs. The sad metallics of his eyes filled with a sharp amber and for a moment, Dolus flickered with genuine satisfaction. This is what the people wanted. “Dolus? Are you ready?” Orion walked in, a mixture of sadness and anger covering his face when he saw his prince. “You aren’t trying this again.” A smile formed on Dolus’ lips as he turned around. It was mostly sincere, which became progressively more difficult for the prince as he coronation closened. “Oh, hush. This is a good idea. The people will be much more comfortable if I look like this.” Dolus gestured to his face. Orion rolled his eyes and shook his head. “They’ll love you. They’ll love you without your tricks and spells. Just as I do.” Dolus let out a laugh. “Many late nights have proven that you’re a big fan of my ‘tricks.’” A smile cracked on the bodyguard’s face.

A moment of silence passed between them. “Well,” Orion started. “We should be on our way. You have to discuss plans for the Harvest Festival.” He paused before continuing. “And, at the end of the day, it’s your coronation. It’s your decision how the Empire sees you. You’re the Emperor, so I won’t tell you how to live your life.” Dolus shook his head, the color draining from his hair and the marks slowly rising back onto his skin. “I’m not the Emperor yet. Let’s not get too dramatic.” He walked toward his guard and placed a hand on his cheek, the other man’s stubble pricking him slightly. “Thank you, Orion.” “It’s my pleasure, Prince Dolus.” The future emperor smiled. “Let’s not delay then. I feel like this festival will be a grand time, don’t you?” They began walking. “If you have a hand in it, this festival will be like none that anyone has ever seen before.”

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Lenwë
Cathair-sa-Chuan


Soaring above the slowly rolling clouds in the form of a black hawk, Lenwë lazily began to dive through the sea of white below him. It had been easy to slip away into the feeling that always came with flight. Complete freedom, and utter detachment from the whole world beneath. It was a wonder to him that Ninian Folte, the only living member of the Hawk-men, could always remain so on-task, so determined to fulfill her duties, and not get lost in flight. Suddenly pushing himself into a roll, folding his wings back, and angling steeply downward, Lenwë broke through the last of the clouds leaving a wispy spiral in his wake. Upon seeing the land he'd briefly left out of sight and mind, his thoughts snapped back to the issues most currently pushed onto the Avatar's platter.

The harvest-season was now here, many of the farmers in the central Commonwealth were already requesting aid in transportation of their goods, and some located nearer Nephyra's Nest sought escorts to deter harpy attacks. He pivoted his head to the right, and his hawk-eyes easily picked out, in fantastic detail, the derelict volcano that served as home to those meddling harpies. The Artabraic Bear, Cynwrig Caratacos, had proposed during the last meet of the Inner Circle that a hunting expedition take place and be directed there. He even wanted to lead it, but Lenwë and the majority of the Circle had opposed this plan. Every hunter knew it was folly to assault the Nest. And Cynwrig was growing too old, too anxious in his wait for a worthy death. In Winter perhaps, Lenwë had promised him in appeasement, we can go together to mince words with the Harpy Queen. How the old bear had laughed at that thought.

And then there was, of course, the coming of Fómhar Fola, The Blood Harvest. The time for the criminals of Slabhra to be released and be given a chance to prove their worthiness of freedom and redemption. This time of the year often drew much more than merchant vessels looking to broker deals for freshly reaped crops. Tourists always came in droves to see if any Men from the Pit made it off the Crescent Isles, and some even wished to participate in the hunt of those criminals. Naturally, all but Artabraic hunters were banned from the Crescent Isles during Fómhar Fola, but there were always the ones who thought they could buy their way on.

In addition, there was the need for a diplomatic mission down South to the United Shadonian Nations to discuss trade agreements and the proposal of a military alliance. With generally friendly relations with the Dryads just across the Southern border and the people of Makuulm across the frozen Northern border, this would set the Commonwealth on good terms with the entire Eastern coast of Pandeum.

All should have been well and good, these small issues mere trifles to be dealt with between hunts, but now Lenwë's mind was burdened by the words of Adharc'aon. "Something is coming." The Horned God had relayed Luman and Cali's message to his Avatar, "Be prepared." Lenwë had been in a trance state earlier that morning, mostly communing with the plants around him in the forest, trying to hone his skill in the use of Natural Magick, when his God strode through the brush, great antlers brushing against canopy some fifteen feet above.

"A cryptic warning." Adharc'aon's voice had boomed through the trees while Lenwë remained sitting cross-legged in the dirt. "Luman nor Cali elaborated, but likely this vague threat will tip scales." Although Lenwë, in his Elven form at the time, still had his eyes shut, he could see Adharc'aon shake his head in the aggravated manner of a stag. "The widespread neutrality and peacemaking of my kin, both old and new, may be thrown into chaos, Lenwë. A time may come to take a stand. Will my Hunters be prepared?"

Since then, Lenwë had been in hawk-form and in flight. Beneath, the harbor-city of Cathair-sa-Chuan came into view as he swooped down across a cliff face. The sights and sounds of the port outside the city walls assaulted his keen senses, but still he dove downward, aiming himself like an arrow at the doorway to a two-story house. The great stone walls and the earth below rushed up to meet him, and he extended his wings to full length, catching the air with them and near halting the descent. Four feet off the ground and about as far from the doorway to the house, Lenwë felt feathers give way to hair and skin, beak break down into teeth and then be covered by flesh, wings transform to arms and talons to toes.

His pallid grey skin was laid bare to the city, and his ears did not need to be of the keen Elven sort to pick up the surprised outbursts of those who saw him shift. He paid them no mind though and strode through the open doorway, shutting it after he passed through. Even if he hadn't telepathically known Elisedd Caratacos was already there, he could smell the sea-salt emanating from his long-time friend and fellow member of the Inner Circle before ever walking in. Casually walking down the entry-hall lined with trophy-skulls of various beasts and grabbing a dusty brown cloak from a wall hook, Lenwë started upstairs.

"Lenwë, it's about time!" Elisedd's voice was somewhat gruff and could easily be taken to be displeased, but the grey-skinned elf only smiled as he donned the cloak and covered himself.

"You and I both know that you only just got your land-legs back." He cleared the last few steps and came through the doorless entryway into his study. All was just as he'd left it, if a little more dusty than last time he'd been home, books and scrolls strewn haphazardly across the table in the center of the room, bookcases lining the right wall, and Elisedd comfortably sprawled on the cot against the left wall, beneath the sole window.

The black hair that easily reached the middle of his back still wet from the sea and carelessly laid about him, Elisedd let his normally scowling lips break into a smirk. "With how slow you fly, I knew I'd have time for a quick swim." He brushed the hair from his face while he sat up, then placed his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle boredly from there. "Ninian was here, briefly. Said she'd be back."

Lenwë nodded. He'd already known, being linked to the members of the Inner Circle telepathically. "The others are on their way as well. But it will be evening before your father and Chief gul'Rask are here. Boadicea is away, and will not likely return until after Fómhar Fola." The Headhuntress always has business.

Getting up and stretching his back and arms to full length, showing himself to be taller and more heavily built than the 6'3" elf, Elisedd asked, "Well, what do we do until then?"

"I had thought of getting a few hours sleep, if you don't mind." Lenwë stifled a yawn. It had been at least two weeks since he'd last been home. "You can stay and greet the others as they arrive, if you please."

"Hey, it's your house." Elisedd shrugged casually.

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Character Portrait: Luman and Cali Character Portrait: Adharc'aon
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Queen of Beasts

Lamina sat in her throne of obsidian and bone. Her skeleton wings spread out to her sides, hanging loosely in boredom. She rested her chin in the palm of her clawed hand, the fiery glow of her eyes staring distastefully at the scene before her. Her commanders were arguing once more, discord filling the air like the drone of locust swarm. Irrelevant arguments and accusations were flung from monster to monster. The Northern Beasts thought the Southern Scavengers were cowards. The Black Pond Coven accused the Great Oak Coven of being weak willed and worn out. The Fallen Star were cross with the Dark Savages because their rotting flesh stunk up their camp when the Savages forced the Star to shelter them. Despite all the points each of them were trying to make, Lamina seriously doubted that even one of them had been heard and understood. “Shut up.” The Queen of the Nefai spoke, rising from her seat. The room went quiet. “I don’t care about your squabbles and feuds and trivial little fights. Honestly, I couldn’t care less what you do to each other. But-” She narrowed her eyes. “How can we protect the Black Forest and the Nefai from outside forces, when we’re too busy tearing out each other’s throats?” She walked forward until her thighs leaned against the stone table where her commanders sat. “I don’t need to tell you that the hunters that serve the Horned God have been more aggressive of late. They’re abandoning the natural order between hunter and beast and now, they are quickly losing their honor and quickly losing my respect.” Cassis, a large hideous beast, barked in agreement as he nodded his ugly head. “A whole tribe of Northern Beasts, slaughtered by those so-called hunters. Not even a big tribe. Not even a fierce tribe. They were shepherds.”

Atropos Eyesnatcher, a hooded hag with pale hair and red eyes, played with her metallic claws as she spoke. “They never showed any real interest in hags before, I suppose our heads aren’t very tasteful when they’re mounted on walls. However, I heard that the Artrabi burned half of a coven just because they could ” Belladonna, a hag with golden hair and skin like marble, looked at Atropos with distrust. “Did this coven practice any dark arts that harmed the Artrabi?” Atropos glared at her fellow hag. “Would it matter?” Lamina rolled her eyes and placed a finger to her lips, silencing the hags. “Regardless of what tribes or coven you represent, the Artrabi should be your biggest threat, not each other.” She walked back to her throne and sat back down. “I understand peace among all the Nefai is difficult. We’ve been fighting and struggling with each other since the days of the First Mother. But when she was taken by the Hunter, the Nefai banded together to show the children of the Horned God what real predators are like. Let us do so again, my brothers and sisters.” A sense of understanding came over the room, each of the commanders suddenly looking ashamed for their actions. Lamina sighed. “You may all leave, except for you, Belladonna. We need to discuss some important items.”

As the other left, the hag walked up to her queen and bowed. “How may I help you, my Grace?” Lamina smiled. “It stills feel strange, after all these years to hear you call me that, Witchmother.” Belladonna smiled. “And it’s strange for me, after all these years, to look at you and see a queen, not the little Oakborn that I raised.” The Queen laughed. “That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about. The Oakborn from the spring, how do they fare? Are they grown?” Belladonna sighed. “They grow at different rates. Some will need many years to grow, like the humans and like you at one time. Others will be leaving the coven within a week. Others will need until the winter. Why?” Lamina took her former caretakers’ hand. “I need as many warriors as I can obtain if we are to protect ourselves.” Belladonna shook her head. “You have many great warriors. Even if these Oakborn were grown and strong, they are untrained and unseasoned. They’ve known nothing but the forest.” “Monsters don’t need much training, dear Witchmother. Hunting comes naturally to us.” “But war does not. Do not confuse the two, my queen.” Lamina sighed. “True.” She paused. “Would you mind reading some omens tonight? And also sending some spies to the Artrabi?” The hag bowed. “Of course, Queen of Beasts.”

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Elisedd Caratacos
In the waters around the Crescent Isles

Today was the day. Free reign given to the devoted of Adharc'aon to hunt Men indiscriminantly. Fómhar Fola had begun. Killing the criminals of Slabhra Prison and making the Commonwealth a better place was a privilege to Elisedd. The filth were given this one chance to escape the Crescent Isles on this day, and it was a hunter's duty to deny them that chance. If a convict escapes, he is forgiven. If he does not, he dies. Such is the decree of Adharc'aon on the day of the Blood Harvest.

In the form of a fourteen foot mako, the thought excited Elisedd beyond imagining. He'd been purposely starving his mako form the past three days so that the savagery ahead would come that much more easily. The way the shark's mind tried to overpower the man's mind was fascinating, and thrilling to him. Adharc'aon's hunters were taught never to lose control over their beast form, never to give in completely to the primal desires of feasting, fighting, and breeding. But Elisedd was an expert at walking the fine line, at maintaining his human mind while giving over bodily control to the more apt animal mind. A man in beast form, even after lifelong practice, could never move as naturally as the beast itself. The trick to being a good shapeshifter was letting the animal within oneself take a measure of control.

These waters were Elisedd's true love, let his father and brother be clumsy and cumbersome on land. His joy was inexplicable, how fortunate he was that Adharc'aon had deemed him to have an affinity for the Circle of the Sea out of so many others. His gratitude and love for his God always peaked when he was in the water like this. He wove his way through thick kelp forests, his bestial senses in complete control, his human intelligence only providing moderate guidance. The mako was his favorite, Lenwë had even chosen the mako for his own sea form on his suggestion. As compared to others, the mako was smarter, it could learn patterns much more quickly than its' cousins. It also relied more on sight than other sharks, which was easy for the human mind to meld with. With his senses he could hear small crustaceans on the seafloor hidden behind thick kelp, feel the movements of fish fleeing from him. But he had no interest in small game today.

He contorted his body and swerved upward, speeding towards the surface, weaving between other shark-men crowding into the waters around and inbetween the Crescent Isles, then broke through the waves. He flew up into the air some twenty feet, taking in the scenery. Hunters were gathered all across the mainland-side shores of the Isles, readying their weapons or shifting into their beast forms. A horn resounded, echoing across the fin-filled water. Roars and howls followed, the excitement building in the same way amongst all the Hunters gathered. Men provided a different thrill than Beasts. Especially these Men, desperate for their freedom, their burning desire to escape feeding the fire of life in each of their hearts. Plus the apprehension, they knew what was coming just as well as the Hunters, as many of the prisoners had once been Hunters.

Elisedd fell back into the water, salty brine crashing back over his body. He dove beneath the crowd of ravenous shark-men, making his way towards the narrow and shallow channels of sea that broke the Crescent Isles apart. Slabhra prisoners would have to cross these channels to make it to one tip of the Isles or the other, and Elisedd would be waiting in the form of a hungry mako. At this time, rope ladders would be being dropped down into the Pit for the convicts to climb up. He still had a moment to take in the environment, to see where the best places for the runners to cross would be, and position himself to strike from below. For a mako, attacking from below was a common tactic, even when the prey was another shark, perhaps especially then.

Elisedd had gotten into position more quickly than most of the other shark-men, the mako's speed winning out against the others, but no prisoners had made it this far from the Pit yet anyway, of if they had then none had yet gotten brave enough to try and cross the water. The water was getting crowded now, he could hardly see the waning light of sunset through all the various breeds of shark swimming around. Three great whites cruised the surface, dorsal fins jutting up out of the sea. They were too large and clumsy in this cramped space to turn effectively though, and had to swim out of the channel then loop back around to go through it again, which was specifically why Elisedd had chosen the mako form over the white.

Finally, he heard the water break, and the awkward flailing of human limbs in it, followed shortly by a violent frenzy of shark-men ripping the poor fool apart. Several other splashes followed, and Elisedd slowly went towards the source of the sounds, staying close to the seafloor. These runners were made short work of, then suddenly all the world above broke into chaos. Limbs and faces were everywhere, some of them already bleeding, enticing his shark nostrils. Arrows were chasing the prisoners into the water, the claw-men and other hunters were already there above. Runners had no choice but to try their luck crossing the channels.

One of the great whites tore a man in half, turning all the water in his wide wake crimson. Elisedd's mako mind was trembling with excitement and fierce hunger. Now he saw his chance. Breaking into full speed at a second's notice, he charged towards the surface and closed his jaws on the midriff of one desperate runner. His velocity carried himself and the now screaming man out of the water at least ten feet, where Elisedd shook him violently, spraying blood about in arcs before detaching a huge chunk from between his targets hip and ribcage.

He fell back into the water and lost track of his mark, swallowing the piece he had taken whole and then snapping at an arm or leg that broke the water near his head, taking it off at the joint. The narrow channel was now nothing more than a flurry of white and red waters churning from the feeding frenzy taking place. The scent and taste of blood filled him entirely, maddened his shark mind and invigorated his human mind. He was bathing in death, all in the name of the Horned God, and it was delightful, just as it was every year. His eyes were basically useless now, except for in extremely close proximity. At this point runners would start getting through the channel, taking advantage of the discord and the lack of visibility in the murky red water.

His mako mind didn't want to give up what control it had gained, but now was the time. Elisedd swam down as low as he could, then spun about and stormed toward the surface again, knocking aside a smaller mako before flying through the air towards the shore of the northern Isle. His body contorted and compressed down from fourteen feet to six, his sleek, agile, streamlined form becoming gangly and awkward, skin turning from rough to fair and frail, and long black hair sprouting from his head and clinging to his still wet frame.

He drew the axe from his side, sliding it's handle smoothly from the ring that held it on his waist, then fell upon his next target. The criminal was haggard, soaked in crimson brine, unkempt beard and hair dripping from his recent crossing of the channel. He looked up in utter shock at Elisedd, plummeting down towards him with axe upraised, wet strands of hair flailing out behind him. The bearded man raised his arms to try and protect his face, but to no avail. Elisedd fell with such speed and ferocity that the axe cleaved clean through his wrist and into his forehead, ending the escapee abruptly. Elisedd pressed a bare foot against the man's head and dislodged his axe, and laughed merrily.

"Fómhar Fola!" The cry rose up amongst the Hunters on the Isles, nearly drowning out the sounds of the frenzy in the channels. Elisedd joined his voice to the cry, "Fómhar Fola!" Just as his cry ended, he felt something grasp his ankle, then pull his leg out from under him and his face met the sand. His axe was ripped out of his grip and the grunt of a man told him that his own axe was rushing in to kill it's owner. He rolled to the side just in time, then pushed against the beach with all his limbs and landed on his feet several yards from his would-be slayer, then smirked at the surprise. "It's you..."




Cian Kai

"... Cian Kai." He grinned at the sound of his own name from the lips of his old comrade, "What are the odds that I would run into you tonight?"

His grin widened and his teeth gleamed in moonlight. "Bad luck?" Cian Kai charged forward and threw himself into a spin, bringing Elisedd's handaxe towards the shark-man's neck. But Elisedd brought up his arm and moved himself forward, catching the handle of the axe in his hand and moving himself forward enough that the axe head was just behind him. Just as Cian had expected. Still moving with the full force of his spin, his fist connected to the side of Elisedd's face, sending Elisedd stumbling backward and grabbing his mouth. He came to a halt and spit blood. "Predictable, shark boy. You're not stopping me from getting off these damn isles tonight, Eli." Before giving Elisedd a chance to say or do anything else, Cian brought the axe back behind him and threw it with full force and deadly accuracy at his chest.

He didn't bother to watch the results of his efforts, but spun around and ran for the cover of the trees, sure to keep as far from the water as possible. He heard a body fall into the water behind him, but didn't presume so much as to think he had killed Elisedd. An arrow whizzed past him, embedding itself into a tree trunk, then Cian vanished into cover, in tow of a group of three other runners from Slabhra. They were now in a mad dash for the finish, their only chance for survival was to get to the northern tip of this island. None of them bothered saying a word to the others. They all knew the stakes and they all valued their own survival over anyone elses. Cian was content to let them lead the way, and so maintained pace a couple yards back.

This tact proved wise, as one of the runners triggered a spike-trap which spun around the wide trunk of a tree and impaled the man directly behind him, lifting him off his feet and leaving him hanging and gurgling helplessly. Then wolf howls rose up through the night air, and the crashing of brush and patter of padded feet built from the left. Cian picked up the pace, his long legs bringing him up just behind his two fellow runners, who were panting for breath. With a swift kick to back of ones' knee in midstride, he brought the man to the ground, rolling in a cloud of dust. The other man didn't protest as the wolves broke through the brush and came into sight. Two descended upon the fallen criminal and brought their teeth to his throat, the other two wolves were not fooled and charged on after the two runners.

Cian could see a break in the trees and the northern tip of the isle. There were four rowboats waiting on the beach. The other man had seen it too, and he tried to use a trick out of Cian's own arsenal, aiming for his knee to bring him down as a distraction, but instead Cian grabbed the man's ankle and spun him through the air like a ragdoll, bringing him around to collide him with a leaping wolf, then let go and wolf and man crashed into a tree trunk. The other wolf lunged, but Cian already knew the ways of a beast. He dropped below the creature, then gripped its' throat with fingers like an iron vise, brought it down to the ground and jumped on top of it, throwing a heavy fist down again and again into it's skull, until warm fluids and chunks of brain matter dribbled down on the fingers that held it by the throat. The other wolf and man were still fighting eachother, the wolf getting the better, but Cian paid their conflict no mind and broke back into a full sprint.

Leaves whirled through the air about him as he broke through the last of the trees. The boats were only twenty yards away now, he could taste the freedom. Shouting of men came from his right, and a group of four more runners emerged from the trees. They spotted him as well, but gave no acknowledgement beyond that. Nothing mattered right now except for getting to those boats, until then it was every man for himself. Cian kept running, finally getting winded now, and the group of four merged with him. Several arrows flew through the air, bringing down two of the men instantly and one finding its way into Cian's right shoulder. He grunted in disapproval at it, but otherwise didn't slow down a bit. One of the other runners got to a boat before he did, and pushed it out onto the water, but just as he made to jump into it a mako rose from the waves and shut its jaws around the mans' throat, sundering head from shoulders.

In a second or less, the mako was a man with his face covered in the blood of his last victim, whose head was now lolling lazily in the waves that lapped at the beach. His axe was in his hand, and with his other he flung his long black hair out of his face. Cian slowed his run to barely a jog, and the other runner collided in a grapple with Elisedd. The winded runner didn't last long though, before Elisedd had him on his knees holding his own crotch, then brought his axe down into the nape of his neck.

Ever an opportunist, Cian Kai barrelled forward and then jumped feet-first in a dropkick at Elisedd, which flung the shark-man back out into the waves. Cian regained his feet as quickly as he could, three more arrows flying over his head while he tried to stay low. He heard more fighting behind him, by the tree line, which was surely where the arrows had come from, but didn't look back. He gave the rowboat a final push out into the water and flipped himself inside it. Only then, as he grabbed the oars and sat in position to begin rowing, did he look back. Two more runners had made it to the beach, jumping over several bodies bleeding out in the sand with arrows stuck in their backs, screaming at him to stop and let them on.

He grinned to show his massive pearly whites at them, and picked up his pace, tendons rippling in his shoulders, an arrow still stuck in his right. One of them went down from an arrow in the spine, and the other stopped and stared like a fool for a moment at Cian, before that damn mako sprouted up from the water and ripped out his throat. Elisedd shifted back into a man and turned to face Cian, now several yards from shore, but made no move to pursue him any further. No other runners came out of the trees, only hunters and beasts shifting back into men, come to see the one that got away, Cian Kai. Cian's signature grin spread wide across his face. He finally stopped rowing and tore the arrow out of his shoulder, discarding it into the water, then picked the oars back up. Today was the day.

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Character Portrait: Montayzuomah Character Portrait: Adharc'aon
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Soaring over a seemingly endless stretch of green, with the marshy delta of Gol'riasc fading into the distance, came a jet-black hawk with strangely glowing green eyes. Unnaturally large for a bird of it's type, it cast a wide swathe of a shadow on the trees below, and although it's eye movements were difficult to see due to the strange green glow, it scanned the world beneath in short, rapid movements, drinking in details it could only dream of when in its Elven form. Lenwë had been in flight since midday, with Ninian Folte, the lone descendent of the line of Hawk-men as his partner in flight. Ninian had taken to her favoured form of a golden eagle, which trumped Lenwë's speed easily, and she'd careened off to the side some time ago, not to be seen since.
Of course, it was no cause for concern. Ninian did tend to show off a bit in her silent manner. But Lenwë knew she was nearby, being linked in his way to the minds of the Inner Circle's members, although he could discern no exact location for her. Playing games? He projected the thought towards her consciousness, but was only met with a mischevious mental giggle, and then suddenly he heard the whooshing of air around wings folded for a dive. Lenwë tucked himself into a sideways roll, saving himself from Ninian's teasing talons.
Lenwë regained a horizontal position and beat his wings twice to regain the few feet he'd dropped in the maneuver, then cocked his head towards Ninian, the golden eagle appearing to glide lazily, although they were moving at breakneck speeds over the trees. You remembered the move I showed you! She sent the words to him through their telepathic bond, and expressed a sense of pride that she had taught the Avatar of the Hunt how to fly adequately.
He didn't acknowledge her, so as not to feed her flame of self-gratification, but instead beat his wing at her playfully, disturbing the air currents around her wing nearest him. Gracefully, she spun away and regained her trajectory, a little further away from Lenwë this time. It was all in fun, the flight had been long and boring for the both of them, but as the Avatar Lenwë felt that playing games with his fellow Circle members when on a diplomatic mission was unbecoming. Seriously, he spoke to her again, We grow near, compose yourself. He hadn't ever spent any significant amount of time in the USN, and then had only passed through, avoiding towns and cities, but he knew they were a more civilized culture than was his own. It wasn't uncommon for foreign people to view the Artabri as little more than barbaric, uncultured folk akin to the Frost-born, and that was not an image that he wanted to reinforce by acting foolish in the sight of Shadonian nobility. While in the Commonwealth, freedom of behaviour was expected and natural, but he assumed that acting in such ways while in the Southern lands of the USN would be viewed as disrespectful.
Ninian took no further scolding, and slowed herself so that she fell slightly behind her Avatar, then maintained an even distance. The trees below had thinned out, and Lenwë knew that they were now crossing or already across the border between Arro'ell and the USN.
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Located outside the castle gates were two guards. Both had been informed of the expected visitors and are keeping their eyes on the skies above them. Not really that prepared for what they are expected.
Ever since the main clan meeting, things have begun to calm down. Post celebration cleanups had finished, the clan leaders had left to tend to their own people, of course with a few new actions to attend to. Like the child labour in the Metle clan. The second trimonarch, Dae Rostovii, had left Shadopolis to return to his sector, The Rostovii Clan. Leaving the other two trimonarchs to attend a meeting with their elven visitor. Weilacca and Patraeko. Of course, this is mostly used as a way to teach the youngest trimonarch the works of the trimonarchy and being a clan leader. However, it's not like he'll learn much. Patraeko already had his experience from since his father had been executed.
With the time given to the trimonarchy, some preparations had taken place. This includes the quick learning of some simple elven sentences and words. Along with the recruitment of a translator who had grown fluent in the elven language. Of course, this translator would be able to translate Shadonian words over to the visitors, if they need the translation of course. All what's left now is to wait...


After having passed over a variety of landscapes, finally the two airborne Hunters were gliding swiftly over a plains region, a mountain range now visible to the South. Growing close enough for his hawk-eyes to pick it out, Lenwë saw the lone mountain that served as the heart of the USN's massive capital, Shadopolis. Although he could have simply soared over the walls, possibly at the risk of being shot down, the great black hawk with vibrantly glowing green eyes instead slowed his speed and fell into a gentle dive.
Ninian followed suit, requiring no guidance on how she ought to behave now that they were so near. Although Lenwë did not betray his thoughts to his companion, he was baffled at the sheer scope of the widespread city. Already the sounds of mass civilization buffeted his keen ears, he was sure Ninian would be experiencing the same feeling of being overwhelmed as he was now. Population centers on the scale of Shadopolis were unheard of in the Commonwealth, and while Lenwë had travelled and seen cities in his hundred and forty years, it had been quite some time since he had exposed himself to civilization outside of his forested homeland.
Two guards were in sight outside of the main gates of the castle, whom he suspected were there to meet and escort them to the First Trimonarch, Weilacca. Now only a few yards off of the ground, possibly moving a little too quickly for the comfort of the two guards, Lenwë allowed the shift back into his Elven form to begin. His wide nine foot wingspan shrunk and shed jet-black feathers, revealing his almost deathly grey skin tone. His talons receded into him as the bones gained density and length, changing into bare feet at the end of ankles that snapped into place. The rest of his feathers shed from his torso, and his beak crumpled down and back into his face, soft flesh moving to take its place and forming into lips. A dark grey, almost black cloak materialized as if from smoke and fell down over his otherwise nude body, his only article of clothing.
Ninian's transformation was similar, although she was more clothed than her Avatar. Tan leathers that had seen many a hunt and a dusty brown cloak covered her heavily tattooed body, and her dark brown hair flailed wildly for a moment as she fell all the way to the ground and the gusts of her now vanished wings receded. Lenwë stepped forward slowly, and greeted them in the common language, "I am Lenwë, Avatar of Adharc'aon, come from the Artabraic Commonwealth on a mission of diplomacy and trade talks. I do believe your master is expecting me?" He spoke as he did purely as a formality, he was sure they knew he was coming and had been waiting specifically for their arrival.
Even as the guards made reply, Lenwë had begun regrowing the signature bark-armor that he covered his feet, legs, and hands with. It was a rather slow process, but small shoots like roots were already stretching down his legs and working to cover his otherwise bare feet. While he was covered by the cloak he donned, his feet were slightly visible, especially when he moved or a breeze displaced the frayed bottom of his garment. Green and brown tendrils slowly were stretching down from his forearm as well, but he did not allow it to form armor proper, as that might be taken as an afront. This was only a diplomatic visit, afterall, and if he looked too on guard the Trimonarchs may interpret it in the wrong way.



The two guards simply aimlessly stood around, sighing with boredom. However, the sight of the two giant creatures took the two by surprise, one fell over at the shock before quickly grabbing his musket as general protocol. Once the two creatures shifted in their shape, the two quickly lowered their guns and held them in place to rest against their shoulder. Quickly making worried faces, hoping that the two visitors did not notice the hostile actions.
Once the two visitors had arrived, one spoke in the common language, a language made for the whole of Pandeum to speak. Although, the superiority complex of the Shadonian race left them to leave the common language as a secondary, less important language to learn. And so, they stood there confused, only recognizing a few words. They just had to do what they were ordered afterall, not talk.
"This way, visitors." The taller, more toned guard replied in the Shadonian language (Heard as "Taeesae wackooay seesaeetaockras"). The armored guard left his musket to rest against the walls of the castle gates. Guns were prohibited inside the castle.
With that, the guard left the other to stay at the gate. While leading the two visitors into the massive castle-mountain. Apon entry, the great architecture of the Vladaminsky clan could be seen. With great details placed all over the walls, pillars, stairs, throne, floor, etc... After a good while of walking up massive stairs, the three had finally reached a large wooden door. The conference room. "Emperor Weilacca and Lord Payemyndii are in here" the guard spoke. Stepping to the side to allow the two to enter the room.
Inside the room sat two men, Weilacca Vladaminsky and Patraeko Payemyndii. With Montayzuomah casually floating crosslegged beside Weilacca. The two were sitting at the two corners of the triangle shaped table, in front of their respective symbols. Two seats were place at the edge opposite Weilacca for the visitors to sit at. The last corner was left empty, with a small plate placed on the chair saying "Busy." in Shadonian.
"Ah!" Weilacca called out, as he stood from his chair, raising his arms in a sort of peaceful/welcoming way. He thought for a little before coming up with an elven word "Welcome". It was the only elven word he could remember, it's a good thing he taught himself the common language. "You guys speak the common language right?"


Lenwë tried to hide the surprise he felt at the informality of the Shadonian Emperor, but a momentary lapse of his demeanor betrayed his emotions for no more than a second. Ninian suppressed a chuckle, and then tried to casually examine the Deity in the room. Unfortunately, her expertise at acting casual in social situations was extraordinarily low, so she was more staring at Montayzuomah than politely glancing. Lenwë delivered a quick mental jab to her, not conveying any words but it was good enough for her to get the message. She averted her gaze and scanned the room, quickly taking in the features of the two Trimonarchs present.
Lenwë had felt similar surprise at the presence of the God of Suffering quite simply and casually hovering next to where Weilacca had been sitting, but he had more control over himself than the young hawk-girl that had accompanied him. Lenwë smiled politely at the greeting of the Emperor and the single Elven word he had used.
"Of course, the common tongue is the one normally used in the Commonwealth as my people do not solely share one lineage." This would help to explain why the Avatar of the Hunt was an Elf, while Ninian was a pale human sharing features in common with many of the Frost-born much further to the North. "Unfortunately, my knowledge of your language is restricted to a bare minimum. I have only ever passed through your United Nations en route to the Black Forest."



"I see," Weilacca replied, "My people simply stick to our own language. We believe that the Shadonian tongue should be used worldwide. Although, that's only our beliefs." He sat back down, gesturing to the others to take a seat. "You don't need to worry at lacking our language, we can still use the common tongue." He smiled a metallic smile as his teeth caught the light and reflected it as bright rays, this inhuman trait is what mainly distinguished the shadonian race from humans. That and the deep red eyes in which most shadonians hold.
"Anyway, we need to introduce ourselves!" Weilacca smiled again,
"I'm Weilacca Vladaminsky, Emperor of the United Shadonian Nations."
Patraeko finally spoke a few blunt words, "Patraeko Payemyndii, King of the Payemyndii Clan". Most people would not believe Patraeko's words due to his young age, but the truth was made obvious since he was sitting at the triangle table of the trimonarchy conference room.
As the talk continued, Montayzuomah simply floated there, quiet, as he watched the meeting take place. He spent his time quickly analysing the two visitors, ready to give some extra information to Weilacca should he miss something at the end of the meeting.


Lenwë had heard tell of the strange differences of the Shadonian people from Hunters who had managed to get close enough to see the details of their deep red eyes and unnaturally shiny teeth, but this was the first time he had really seen up close for himself. Since Lenwë's glowing green eyes lacked any iris or pupils he could let his gaze drift where he pleased without others knowing for certain whether it was them he was looking at or not.
Ninian did not share in Lenwë's strange eye coloration, and so it was painfully obvious that she was blatantly staring at Weilacca's metallic smile. Lenwë threw another mental jab her way, simultaneously continuing with pleasantries with his hosts, "It is an honor to meet you both. In our flight I was baffled at the sheer size of your country, you must have half the total population of the Commonwealth in this city alone." Moving behind the seat designated by the Emperor, and beckoning for Ninian to follow suit, he introduced them before sitting down.
"I am Lenwë, Avatar of the Hunt, and my companion here is Ninian Folte, member of my countries governing body."
Ninian gave a short, sloppy curtsy, to the best of her ability, "Honored." She replied shortly with her face down-turned, then took her seat next to Lenwë. Speaking in the manners of civilized folk had always been bizarre to Lenwë, even with practice, and small talk came to him with great difficulty. He could only imagine at how much more difficult such things were for Ninian.
"As you are aware, I had requested this meet in order to solidify trading agreements between our nations. Our harvest was plentiful this year, and tradesmen in the Commonwealth are anxious to see Shadonian ships make port in Cathair-sa-Chuan. In addition, the recent warning," he glanced up at Montayzuomah, then back to the two trimonarchs, "has given me cause to seek out additional military alliances. The dryads between our nations only ever promise neutrality, and whatever this coming threat is, we need a Southern ally we can rely on."



Weilacca looked confused at the two's strange actions, but stuck to ignore the human's stares towards himself. It's probably the first time to see a Shadonian, or maybe first time meeting and emperor. Oh well. As a reply to Lenwë's compliment, Weilacca spoke out; "I thank you. It took a lot of resources, lives and effort to finally unite this country. Plus, the city of Shadopolis is one of the oldest, constantly growing cities in the history of the USN." He smiled again, happy to show some praise towards his dictator-esque actions.
Listening some more to the reasons to the meeting, Weilacca opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Patraeko. "I see a land trade more efficient and short rather than sea. Of course there are some goods which we produce in bulk and require ships to carry their weight, but most goods are light enough to carry over land." He spoke as if he was bored, his words implying that it was a simple, common thing for people to know. Or maybe he was insulting them, it was unsure from the Payemyndii's accent. "We are aware of this warning through the idiot god's words. Your confirmation has made it clear that he wasn't lying-" Montayzuomah flinched a little and gave off a large sigh at Patraeko's words, "-A military alliance would be best for both of us. Especially with some actions occuring within our own country along with some hostile actions from neighboring ones. I'm pretty sure you can rely on our large, technologically advanced forces and great strategic prowess. And Weilacca has been going on about how great you people are, so we hope we can trust you."
With that, Patraeko looked away and slouched back into his chair, hanging his arm over the backrest and staring out the window, into the crowded streets of the city. Weilacca simply stared at Patraeko in surprise, it wasn't usual for a young leader like him to suddenly show such great words in such a brief fashion. He then quickly looked towards the two visitors, hoping that Patraeko's words/accent haven't caused any offense. Montayzuomah simply sat there, floating and giggling.


"They aren't what I expected." came Ninian's projected thought into Lenwë's mind. She could have been reading his own unspoken words. He wasn't sure whether he was being insulted by the young Payemyndii noble or if it was just how these people commonly spoke. Chances were that Patraeko was trying to goad him into taking offence, as a means of weighing Lenwë's character. But he was determined to make these talks work out in the favor of the Artabraic people, if it meant taking insults even, he wouldn't act out against it.
He had expected Montayzuomah, for a split second, to strike down his young mortal lord. These Shadonians seemed full of surprises though. But then he felt a sense of relief, hearing that even the arrogant Lord Payemyndii saw merit in forming a military alliance.
"I am pleased that we see a military alliance as mutually beneficial, but I have reservations in regards to a land-based trade route." He shifted in his seat and leaned forward a bit, careful to maintain a composed demeanor and not to cause insult to the Payemyndii, "There are no safe, monitored, or regularly patrolled roads from here to the Commonwealth. Such a route would take merchants and goods along the borders of the Outlands and the Drow Dominion." The Outlands was full of brigands and cutthroats, such was common knowledge, and the Drow typically took unkindly to trespassers. He wasn't sure whether he should tell Patraeko and Weilacca about the increase in activity of the insect denizens of the Dominion near the borders. It was possible they already knew anyway.
"While I am a leader of my people, the Artabri do not function like yours. They are free to make their own decisions, that is the foundation of our ideology. I could not force them to establish outposts outside of Artabraic borders in order to safeguard this trading road." He let his words weigh on the room, expressing no further argument for the moment, waiting for a counter from either of the nobles across the triangular table.



Patraeko thought for a moment, before quickly whipping his head back to face the visitors. "Then we simply set up patrols, roads, escorts, those barbarians can't do shit to us."
Weilacca quickly tapped the table with the palm of his hand, "Patraeko, stop with this arrogance. A good leader should have an open mind and consider all problems and details." He then looked towards the visitors, "I'm sorry, Patraeko is new to the Trimonarchy."
"How much would it cost to start a campaign through the Outlands and Drow Dominion?" Patraeko asked Weilacca,
"Shut up. We aren't starting a war just for trade. You got to look at the big picture to excel in strategics. It will cost much more to start a war and is much cheaper to set up a trade route by sea. And so!"
Weilacca looked back at the visitors again, "I apologize for the inconvenience, a sea trade route would be best and we would be glad. Of course, we need to know what you have to offer and what you require from us. Along with that, we need to make some arrangements of exchanging garrisons. It would be much more safer and efficient to have each soldiers guarding each other's lands. It will give a mix of specialties along with improving inter-racial relationships."
"Hoo~" Montayzuomah finally begun to speak, "You're quick to give in to pathetic-" His words were quickly stopped with a small spark of electricity reaching out towards the god. Quickly causing him to drift backwards, out of range.
"Your opinion is invalid, idiot god. Go cause some disease or masturbate or whatever you do."
With a small grunt, Montayzuomah left the room by disappearing through a wall. Drifting off to meddle in whatever he thought would be fun.


Taking in stride the behavior of both the Payemyndii and the insult-cut-short of the now un-present Deity, Lenwë carried on as if neither thing had happened. "It is quite alright, we all have our beginnings." He gracefully lifted his hands as if wiping away Patraeko's outburst from memory. "Regardless of reasons, I do agree that war is the last thing needed in our lands at present. Whatever the danger on the horizon that has been foretold actually is, we should try and be prepared for it. War would be a distraction from this."
Finally sitting back and really relaxing for the first time since he arrived, Lenwë folded his hands in front of him on the table. While his manner appeared calm and relieved of worry, he was now brooding to himself while carrying on the conversation. "The Commonwealth has a variety of natural resources at our disposal; lumber, in abundance, crops of corn, wheat, and hops in plenty, among with several other choice harvests, but not in the same quantities." The interrupted comment of the God of Suffering troubled him, but he tried not to show any misgivings. "In addition, Artabraic Hunters never quit in their work, and we can provide all the animal products you could ask for. Leathers and furs for the coming winter would, naturally, be a prime example. Also, our mountain ranges and the cliff-sides of the Déithamach Peninsula are rich in iron ores and precious metals."
He shrugged more to himself than anyone else, carrying on, "Given our proposed military alliance and exchange of military forces, I'm sure that my merchants could be persuaded to provide yours with favorable bargains and priority considerations. In exchange we would be interested in higher quality weapons, as well as siege weaponry, just to be prepared for anything. Also, most of our cities and settlements are of crudely built and wooden quality. If you have stone building tools, and possibly also masons willing to travel to the Commonwealth, we would be interested in such things."
"An exchange of garrisons would be beneficial, I am certain that I can gather a substantial number of Artabri toward this cause. Once they have been decided, I will send word to you, followed shortly by the Hunters themselves. Do you have a specific post already in mind, or an idea of what they will most typically be faced against? Depending on the environment and potential enemies, I could recommend Artabri with different specialties."


Weilacca smiled with the offers, "Lumber and crops are exactly what we need, along with leathers and furs as well." He commented, followed by Patraeko's words;
"My people excel in weapons production, we can easily supply you with the general Shadonian weaponry which include cannons, muskets, and close combat weaponry like swords and spears. We also build trebuchets, catapults, warships and have a small prototype of a new weapon in production."
"As for your ores, I'm afraid that we aren't in need of these. Our own mines in the Metle and Skeel sectors have a great abundance in iron and copper ores." Weilacca added, "If you need masons and architects to assist in your buildings, we'd be happy to send some. Some of our trade ships can be loaded with eager workers seeking to immigrate into your lands. There, they can work and teach."
Patraeko finally commented on the garrison exchange, "Your garrisons would be thinly spread throughout the USN at first to show the integration of foreign military. We don't want any major threat or fear to reach the people so it's easier to slowly bring them in. After a good time of the garrison exchange programme, your garrisons would be gathered together for usual guard duty in some sectors, along with policing and training of rookies. Of course, we would contact you for permission on using your troops in war should one break out. We're happy to receive any specialty and also offer a range of specialties of our own guards. Wall marksmen, brutes, riders, line infantry, dragoons. The list goes on."


[center]Lenwë raised an eyebrow at Patraeko's mention of the prototype weapon, but held his silence on the matter, respecting that it was likely a guarded secret. If the time came, perhaps that information would find its' way to his Elven ears. "Your weapons would be gladly accepted. Cannons could be implemented to defend our city walls, as well as muskets. Unfortunately, your warships may be lost on us, as we have no conventional Navy." Lenwë considered Weilacca's words. It was unfortunate that the Shadonians would have no demand for their metal ores, but not too large an issue.
"Housing can be provided for immigration at short notice, our capital city is vast as well and capable of providing residence to large amounts of people. Your architects might be particularly interested in the Dwarven design of our capital. It is ancient, and some sections of it are in some state of disrepair, however we have been hesitant in tasking any workers to restore it for fear that they may cause more harm than good. Your workers would be well taken care of."
He replied now directly to Patraeko, "The workings of the exchange programme in the USN can be handled at the discretion of you Trimonarchs. A slow integration sounds practical, but I could immediately set to task several thousand Shadonian troops. Your garrisons would likely be placed on or near our border to the Dominion, and perhaps nearby our main population centers. My people tend to specialize in non-conventional warfare, with a heavy tendency for stealth and guerilla tactics, so your more standard soldiers would be a valuable asset to us if we ever had to hold the line against numerous forces. In addition, they would be perfect for policing and patrolling our border. In time, perhaps your officers could instruct the Artabri in conventional rank and file warfare, if my people see learning such tactics to be worthwhile."
"Not likely." Ninian sent her snide thought on the idea of standing in formation and taking barked orders to Lenwë, with a momentary cringing of her nose coming over her, as if something smelled foul. Lenwë quickly subdued her with a thought, then continued to address Weilacca, "If there is nothing further, perhaps we should finalize our agreements, and then I will set myself to task. Merchants and hunters will have to be informed of these good tidings, and the sooner I return to the Commonwealth, the sooner trade and military exchange can take place."



Patraeko hummed in agreement, liking the words being spoke toward him. "Line infantry and Dragoons would be best for policing and patrolling. Both of which also have a great defensive stance and training for if any war were to come by. As for having full control over your garrisons, we are very grateful and would try our best to train them in our ranks. We would get the garrisons to full work immediately, however, our people can be quite xenophobic. When your garrisons return to their homelands, they would/should be fully trained in discipline and formations." He explained.
"Well then!" Weilacca clapped his hands together to grab the attention of the room. "I believe this is it. I don't believe there are any other words to be said so we, can finalize our negotiations." He turned to the visitors, "Is there anything else worth mentioning?"


Lenwë pursed his lips and shook his head after a second of consideration. "I think not." Rising to his feet, and tucking the chair back in place, signaling for Ninian to follow suit. "I am pleased that we have been so easily able to negotiate on these issues, and I thank you, Emperor Vladaminsky and Lord Payemyndii, for the kind hospitality." Giving a gracious, swooping bow, and Ninian sloppily doing the same.



"Ah yes! Thanks for taking the time to come over here. Next time, all three of us will pay a visit to your Commonwealth." Weilacca replied, smiling another metallic smile as he saw the two visitors off. Returning to his work as they took to the skies once more.