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Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation
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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 1705803" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>Lord Philemon Haldris, Baron of West Haeld gave a sharp growl at the tunic the servant was handing to him. The brown cloth lacked the mud and dirt that had covered it only recently, but still smelled of blood and earth, a smell that contrasted greatly with the clean, fresh smell that permeated the mundane but clean room in the Imperial Palace he had been detailed.</p><p></p><p>“Your tunic, milord,” the woman bowed politely. Haldris grabbed the clothing from her hand, and gave a growl of dismissal. To his anger, the serving girl did not leave, she continued looking at him as he donned the cloth over his doublet. He gave her the same look he would give one of his own disobeying servants, only to see her not flinch even.</p><p></p><p>“Her Majesty also deigns to speak a moment with you,” the woman added.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t you mean <em>Her Highness</em>?” he replied rather crossly, thoughts rushing through his head of how he would never allow his servants to misbehave in front of guests or captives. She didn’t reply, and he gave a gruff wave of his hand, mentally preparing for the ransom negotiations he knew were about to begin.</p><p></p><p><em>That little whelp tricked me! She shan’t get more than a thousand gold from me, that trollop! Ambushing and using tricks instead of honorably facing us on the open field!</em> his mind thundered, as he paced the room.</p><p></p><p>For ten minutes he paced, growing more and more angry, as his ‘patron’ did not enter. Thoughts ran into his head that she was intentionally playing him a fool, that she was rubbing her heels into his face. Finally, just before he was about to leave the chambers to go find her himself, he heard the door to his chamber creak open. It was the servant girl again.</p><p></p><p>“Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Siabrey,” the girl bowed, her eyes cast nervously to someone outside the door.</p><p></p><p>Haldris’ mind was filled with confusion. At last report, only a few days ago, the Empress was far away, marching on Thuyciden. <em>It couldn’t be her! Impossible!</em></p><p></p><p>Then a familiar, frightening clank echoed up the halls towards his room, and Haldris’ blood ran cold.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Albrecht,” Manse heard his wife call. He looked up, and saw her carrying one of his young boys, the lad kicking and fighting all his worth to get free from her grasp and dash to look over the battlements of their keep again. The Baron Manse laughed.</p><p></p><p>“I’ll help!” he said quickly running to his wife’s aid. Her portly frame was well suited for carrying many things... struggling ten year old boys were not among them. “I’ll take him aside. Behrtic!” he spoke to his son, “Why do you want to want to get so close to the battlements? You could fall.”</p><p></p><p>“Papa! Papa!” his young son called, “She’s here! That’s why!” The boy struggled from his mother’s grasp, and dashed over to his father. Quickly grabbing the older man’s hand, Behtric dragged his father to the battlements as well.</p><p></p><p>When Albrecht looked over the last of the stones, his heart sank. A sea of steel stretched out below, banners bearing the sigil of a silver dragon rising from innumerable places within its mass. A single, thundering roar echoed in the as a figure clad in blood red armor sat in front, mounted on a midnight black steed...</p><p></p><p>Albrecht sat up, his breathing coming in pants. His back gave him a slight of pain as a reward for sleeping on his lord’s benches the night before, and as Manse looked around, he saw many of the other lords were still there. Some were still snoring away in drunken slumber, while a close few huddled near the front under the light of a short candle, Erelion in their midst.</p><p></p><p>“Ah... Albrecht. I left instructions that you were to sleep... help you recover from the injury,” Erelion’s voice came in normal tones, despite the bevy of sleeping people around.</p><p></p><p>“I thank you milord,” Albrecht blinked, “But why, may I ask, is an apparent council of war so urgent it could not wait? We had two days...”</p><p></p><p>Manse blinked again as Erelion pushed forward a familiar figure, confusion mounting in his head. After meeting Haldris and hearing what he had to say, Manse was even more dumbfounded. </p><p></p><p>“You were right, Lord Manse!” Erelion boomed happily, “The Empress was not at Thuyciden! But she wishes to discuss terms... she likely didn’t bring her army with her!” Erelion chuckled. The ten or so nobles around him chuckled as well. </p><p></p><p>“She wants to discuss <em>terms?</em> In a parley?” Manse asked. <em>It doesn’t make any sense! This is the Desert Dragon... the Warrior from the West... the One that Never Surrenders! She would sooner place her blade in half her opponents than talk terms of surrender!</em></p><p></p><p>“Yes... in parley!” Erelion laughed. “It appears the dragon that bit my brother has lost her teeth!” The ‘Emperor’ then waved to the maps on the table below. “I’ve been busily myself with determining my Imperial Governors. Might as well be productive if our greatest opponent is surrendering!”</p><p></p><p>“I... I highly doubt she is going to surrender,” Manse said slowly. “It... it is not in her personality. She would fight before surrendering...” he managed to say before Bearsans, ever active, interrupted him.</p><p></p><p>“Albrecht... she has a city at her back that cannot evacuate... and she knows what will happen if she fights us for the city and loses. I can keep my troops in line, but many other nobles are not as... diligent,” he waved to some of the slumbering bodies around. “She would not risk the city of Iskeldrun to be able to say she never surrendered to a foe!” There were grunts of assent from the other nobles gathered.</p><p></p><p>“Well then, milord,” Manse nodded to Erelion, “as your chief bannerman, may I request the honor of accompanying you to this parley?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” Erelion said, before quickly adding, “Your counsel is well advised, and I treasure it. At this moment, however, I prefer you to watch the army and try to keep in line the more... rowdy elements, while I discuss surrender terms with Lady Siabrey.”</p><p></p><p>Manse nodded... the slap in the face was unintentional, and part of him realized why he was asked to this. Erelion trusted him. “Your Majesty, shall you be needing an escort to the parley site?”</p><p></p><p>“Um... yes.. I believe I shall take Bearsans, Lord Wescena, and perhaps twenty of their finest knights,” Erelion said thoughtfully. “The parley site is only five miles from here, and I think that the Empress surrendering might be a sign.”</p><p></p><p>“Of what?” Manse asked, confused.</p><p></p><p>“Think about it, Albrecht! The Empress is <em>abandoning</em> the Usurper!” Bearsans said excitedly. “Imagine, if we could use the Desert Dragon against him!” the small man was positively excited. “Imagine!”</p><p></p><p><em>Madness,</em> Manse thought, before his mind reminded him, <em>Those in euphoria tend to believe in the stars...</em> “I should think, Your Majesty, that a larger escort would be appropriate.” Manse thought for a second, before twisting their logic around to his use. “It would be a great show of your power if your entire army, even saw the Dragon surrender to you.”</p><p></p><p>“No,” Erelion said quickly. “We do not want to rub this in her face. According to Haldris, she is considering supporting out cause. We want to be able to persuade her to accept a position leading one of our armies. With her on our side, the Usurper will surely fail!”</p><p></p><p>“Are you mad?” Manse could not take it any longer. The assumptions, the hopes now taken as truth. “She could easily have lied to Haldris! What if she has forced marched her army out! <em>She is combative by heart! SHE WILL FIGHT!</em>” he snarled.</p><p></p><p>“Baron Manse,” Erelion’s voice was much harder this time. “I have already decided on this subject, and you should obey Your Emperor.” With those icy words, the subject was settled. </p><p></p><p>Manse stormed out of the tent.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Are you alright?” Raven asked uneasily towards the rider and mount next to her. She shook her head yet again, and showers of purple, yellow, and blue sparkles fell towards the ground.</p><p></p><p><em>”I’m fine”</em> Ari replied in her mind, his mouth unable to form human speech now. From atop his shoulders, the muffled voice of Vintressa replied she was alright as well, despite the swaying.</p><p></p><p>“Okay.” Raven’s eyes still had trouble deciphering how <em>big</em> Ari had grown. She had last ridden him when she was in Kulloden over a year prior. The multi-colored prismatic dragon’s form was easily some 80 feet long, his eyes still the same, but his head and snout larger, and more vicious. To someone who did not know him, Ari would look downright frightening... a fact made all the more apparent when he launched into happy descriptions of how well he was doing making “fire, ice, acid and shocks,” with his breath.</p><p></p><p>The two rounded a bend in the road ahead, the new day’s sun now high in the sky. The forest around cracked and crunched as Ari’s wings, even folded, broke the trees along both sides of the path. </p><p></p><p>Raven gave a slight gasp at seeing the small host that was waiting for them, underneath a gigantic white ash tree, as Vintressa had instructed. An array of twenty knights, shining in resplendent white armor, shields in parade side, their lances, green and white, rising to the sky.</p><p></p><p>In the middle and in front of this line were three figures. One, mounted on a bay, was clad in gilt parade armor tinged with green. A black eagle on a green shield was his sigil. Another had white crossed spears on a blue shield. In between them was a man resplendent in gilt armor, a massive coiled snake as the crest of his golden helm. </p><p></p><p>And to Raven’s delight, she could see eyes widen at seeing Ari and Vintressa, clad in her mother’s armor and mounted on the dragon’s shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“Remember Ari... quiet and fierce,” Raven whispered. In response, Ari leaned his head up and delivered a blood curdling roar, thunder mixed with a scream that would have made wolves run for their dens.</p><p></p><p>“My Lord Erelion,” the muffled voice said within the formidable dragon armor.</p><p></p><p>“My Lady Caladron,” the gilt man smiled. “I have come to you with terms, as you asked.”</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps Lord Haldris did not inform you correct of my intentions. I have brought my own terms,” the voice continued. Raven watched as Erelion stiffened, a little fury and a lot of confusion in his face.</p><p></p><p>“Pray tell, my lady, what may those be?” the lord crossed his arms, trying to hide his surprise.</p><p></p><p>“First,” the muffled voice said sharply, “You and all your kind must lay down your arms. Second, You will submit yourself to the justice of my husband, the Emperor Lucius Caladron. Third, those nobles supporting you shall report to Iskeldrun, where His Majesty shall judge the conditions of your treachery and judge accordingly.”</p><p></p><p>Erelion noticeably stiffened, his eyes wide with rage. The man stared at her, disbelief shuffled in with his rumbling emotions, his horse even shying back, as if prepping for an explosion.</p><p></p><p>“My lady... is this some kind of jest?” he asked, voice barely controlled. Raven noticed with alarm his hand was coming close to the sword at his side.</p><p></p><p>“This is no jest!” The voice within the Empress’ helm shouted, a noise that was quickly dimmed by the noise of horses whinnying. Erelion spun his steed around, his knights lowering their lances, only to hear the monstrosity on the dragon shout again, “If you move, my lords, I am afraid my friend will be forced to use his mouth as persuasion!”</p><p></p><p>As if on cue, Ari let loose another, even louder roar, this blast directed almost into Erelion’s face. The noise of horses increased and from behind Raven and Vintressa, a column of armored riders with black cloaks thundered up the road, lances in hand. </p><p></p><p>Erelion’s eyes went wide, looking between the dragon, its rider, and the Household Guard coming up the road. There was a seconds hesitation, before he suddenly whipped his horse around, spurring his steed on for his life as the twenty-two others set lances and charged towards Ari...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 1705803, member: 15043"] Lord Philemon Haldris, Baron of West Haeld gave a sharp growl at the tunic the servant was handing to him. The brown cloth lacked the mud and dirt that had covered it only recently, but still smelled of blood and earth, a smell that contrasted greatly with the clean, fresh smell that permeated the mundane but clean room in the Imperial Palace he had been detailed. “Your tunic, milord,” the woman bowed politely. Haldris grabbed the clothing from her hand, and gave a growl of dismissal. To his anger, the serving girl did not leave, she continued looking at him as he donned the cloth over his doublet. He gave her the same look he would give one of his own disobeying servants, only to see her not flinch even. “Her Majesty also deigns to speak a moment with you,” the woman added. “Don’t you mean [i]Her Highness[/i]?” he replied rather crossly, thoughts rushing through his head of how he would never allow his servants to misbehave in front of guests or captives. She didn’t reply, and he gave a gruff wave of his hand, mentally preparing for the ransom negotiations he knew were about to begin. [i]That little whelp tricked me! She shan’t get more than a thousand gold from me, that trollop! Ambushing and using tricks instead of honorably facing us on the open field![/i] his mind thundered, as he paced the room. For ten minutes he paced, growing more and more angry, as his ‘patron’ did not enter. Thoughts ran into his head that she was intentionally playing him a fool, that she was rubbing her heels into his face. Finally, just before he was about to leave the chambers to go find her himself, he heard the door to his chamber creak open. It was the servant girl again. “Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Siabrey,” the girl bowed, her eyes cast nervously to someone outside the door. Haldris’ mind was filled with confusion. At last report, only a few days ago, the Empress was far away, marching on Thuyciden. [i]It couldn’t be her! Impossible![/i] Then a familiar, frightening clank echoed up the halls towards his room, and Haldris’ blood ran cold. “Albrecht,” Manse heard his wife call. He looked up, and saw her carrying one of his young boys, the lad kicking and fighting all his worth to get free from her grasp and dash to look over the battlements of their keep again. The Baron Manse laughed. “I’ll help!” he said quickly running to his wife’s aid. Her portly frame was well suited for carrying many things... struggling ten year old boys were not among them. “I’ll take him aside. Behrtic!” he spoke to his son, “Why do you want to want to get so close to the battlements? You could fall.” “Papa! Papa!” his young son called, “She’s here! That’s why!” The boy struggled from his mother’s grasp, and dashed over to his father. Quickly grabbing the older man’s hand, Behtric dragged his father to the battlements as well. When Albrecht looked over the last of the stones, his heart sank. A sea of steel stretched out below, banners bearing the sigil of a silver dragon rising from innumerable places within its mass. A single, thundering roar echoed in the as a figure clad in blood red armor sat in front, mounted on a midnight black steed... Albrecht sat up, his breathing coming in pants. His back gave him a slight of pain as a reward for sleeping on his lord’s benches the night before, and as Manse looked around, he saw many of the other lords were still there. Some were still snoring away in drunken slumber, while a close few huddled near the front under the light of a short candle, Erelion in their midst. “Ah... Albrecht. I left instructions that you were to sleep... help you recover from the injury,” Erelion’s voice came in normal tones, despite the bevy of sleeping people around. “I thank you milord,” Albrecht blinked, “But why, may I ask, is an apparent council of war so urgent it could not wait? We had two days...” Manse blinked again as Erelion pushed forward a familiar figure, confusion mounting in his head. After meeting Haldris and hearing what he had to say, Manse was even more dumbfounded. “You were right, Lord Manse!” Erelion boomed happily, “The Empress was not at Thuyciden! But she wishes to discuss terms... she likely didn’t bring her army with her!” Erelion chuckled. The ten or so nobles around him chuckled as well. “She wants to discuss [i]terms?[/i] In a parley?” Manse asked. [i]It doesn’t make any sense! This is the Desert Dragon... the Warrior from the West... the One that Never Surrenders! She would sooner place her blade in half her opponents than talk terms of surrender![/i] “Yes... in parley!” Erelion laughed. “It appears the dragon that bit my brother has lost her teeth!” The ‘Emperor’ then waved to the maps on the table below. “I’ve been busily myself with determining my Imperial Governors. Might as well be productive if our greatest opponent is surrendering!” “I... I highly doubt she is going to surrender,” Manse said slowly. “It... it is not in her personality. She would fight before surrendering...” he managed to say before Bearsans, ever active, interrupted him. “Albrecht... she has a city at her back that cannot evacuate... and she knows what will happen if she fights us for the city and loses. I can keep my troops in line, but many other nobles are not as... diligent,” he waved to some of the slumbering bodies around. “She would not risk the city of Iskeldrun to be able to say she never surrendered to a foe!” There were grunts of assent from the other nobles gathered. “Well then, milord,” Manse nodded to Erelion, “as your chief bannerman, may I request the honor of accompanying you to this parley?” “No,” Erelion said, before quickly adding, “Your counsel is well advised, and I treasure it. At this moment, however, I prefer you to watch the army and try to keep in line the more... rowdy elements, while I discuss surrender terms with Lady Siabrey.” Manse nodded... the slap in the face was unintentional, and part of him realized why he was asked to this. Erelion trusted him. “Your Majesty, shall you be needing an escort to the parley site?” “Um... yes.. I believe I shall take Bearsans, Lord Wescena, and perhaps twenty of their finest knights,” Erelion said thoughtfully. “The parley site is only five miles from here, and I think that the Empress surrendering might be a sign.” “Of what?” Manse asked, confused. “Think about it, Albrecht! The Empress is [i]abandoning[/i] the Usurper!” Bearsans said excitedly. “Imagine, if we could use the Desert Dragon against him!” the small man was positively excited. “Imagine!” [i]Madness,[/i] Manse thought, before his mind reminded him, [i]Those in euphoria tend to believe in the stars...[/i] “I should think, Your Majesty, that a larger escort would be appropriate.” Manse thought for a second, before twisting their logic around to his use. “It would be a great show of your power if your entire army, even saw the Dragon surrender to you.” “No,” Erelion said quickly. “We do not want to rub this in her face. According to Haldris, she is considering supporting out cause. We want to be able to persuade her to accept a position leading one of our armies. With her on our side, the Usurper will surely fail!” “Are you mad?” Manse could not take it any longer. The assumptions, the hopes now taken as truth. “She could easily have lied to Haldris! What if she has forced marched her army out! [i]She is combative by heart! SHE WILL FIGHT![/i]” he snarled. “Baron Manse,” Erelion’s voice was much harder this time. “I have already decided on this subject, and you should obey Your Emperor.” With those icy words, the subject was settled. Manse stormed out of the tent. “Are you alright?” Raven asked uneasily towards the rider and mount next to her. She shook her head yet again, and showers of purple, yellow, and blue sparkles fell towards the ground. [i]”I’m fine”[/i] Ari replied in her mind, his mouth unable to form human speech now. From atop his shoulders, the muffled voice of Vintressa replied she was alright as well, despite the swaying. “Okay.” Raven’s eyes still had trouble deciphering how [i]big[/i] Ari had grown. She had last ridden him when she was in Kulloden over a year prior. The multi-colored prismatic dragon’s form was easily some 80 feet long, his eyes still the same, but his head and snout larger, and more vicious. To someone who did not know him, Ari would look downright frightening... a fact made all the more apparent when he launched into happy descriptions of how well he was doing making “fire, ice, acid and shocks,” with his breath. The two rounded a bend in the road ahead, the new day’s sun now high in the sky. The forest around cracked and crunched as Ari’s wings, even folded, broke the trees along both sides of the path. Raven gave a slight gasp at seeing the small host that was waiting for them, underneath a gigantic white ash tree, as Vintressa had instructed. An array of twenty knights, shining in resplendent white armor, shields in parade side, their lances, green and white, rising to the sky. In the middle and in front of this line were three figures. One, mounted on a bay, was clad in gilt parade armor tinged with green. A black eagle on a green shield was his sigil. Another had white crossed spears on a blue shield. In between them was a man resplendent in gilt armor, a massive coiled snake as the crest of his golden helm. And to Raven’s delight, she could see eyes widen at seeing Ari and Vintressa, clad in her mother’s armor and mounted on the dragon’s shoulder. “Remember Ari... quiet and fierce,” Raven whispered. In response, Ari leaned his head up and delivered a blood curdling roar, thunder mixed with a scream that would have made wolves run for their dens. “My Lord Erelion,” the muffled voice said within the formidable dragon armor. “My Lady Caladron,” the gilt man smiled. “I have come to you with terms, as you asked.” “Perhaps Lord Haldris did not inform you correct of my intentions. I have brought my own terms,” the voice continued. Raven watched as Erelion stiffened, a little fury and a lot of confusion in his face. “Pray tell, my lady, what may those be?” the lord crossed his arms, trying to hide his surprise. “First,” the muffled voice said sharply, “You and all your kind must lay down your arms. Second, You will submit yourself to the justice of my husband, the Emperor Lucius Caladron. Third, those nobles supporting you shall report to Iskeldrun, where His Majesty shall judge the conditions of your treachery and judge accordingly.” Erelion noticeably stiffened, his eyes wide with rage. The man stared at her, disbelief shuffled in with his rumbling emotions, his horse even shying back, as if prepping for an explosion. “My lady... is this some kind of jest?” he asked, voice barely controlled. Raven noticed with alarm his hand was coming close to the sword at his side. “This is no jest!” The voice within the Empress’ helm shouted, a noise that was quickly dimmed by the noise of horses whinnying. Erelion spun his steed around, his knights lowering their lances, only to hear the monstrosity on the dragon shout again, “If you move, my lords, I am afraid my friend will be forced to use his mouth as persuasion!” As if on cue, Ari let loose another, even louder roar, this blast directed almost into Erelion’s face. The noise of horses increased and from behind Raven and Vintressa, a column of armored riders with black cloaks thundered up the road, lances in hand. Erelion’s eyes went wide, looking between the dragon, its rider, and the Household Guard coming up the road. There was a seconds hesitation, before he suddenly whipped his horse around, spurring his steed on for his life as the twenty-two others set lances and charged towards Ari... [/QUOTE]
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