LoR Global Storyline Summary

The beast was enormous, dwarfing elephants, buildings, and even the dragons Abner had heard about. Its monstrous jaws were filled with rows of jagged teeth and giant horns protruded from its face. Time slowed even more for Abner. He raised his bow and nocked the arrow he had been holding to the string. The monster’s jaws descended towards Scraff, passing the lower jungle canopy. Abner drew back his longbow with all of his strength, its sturdy wood groaning in protest. The beast moved down, down- it was almost upon Scraff now! Abner let his arrow fly.
The scene seemed frozen in time. The shaft crawled through the air, moving unbearably slowly towards the marines and the great beast. Abner saw Scraff’s determined expression- there was never fear on that man’s face! – and Felnor’s look of terror as he sprinted with his crossbow. There was terror in the eyes of the lizard creature, too- it heeded nothing but its own feet as it tore through the jungle, its only thought to escape the monster that pursued it. The arrow carved its path forward, flying just over Scraff’s head and clipping off a piece of the feather that adorned his hat. The terrible beast’s jaws opened fully and it was now merely feet from Scraff’s body.
Then the arrow struck it. The missile flew straight and true, burying itself in the giant tongue of the monster. The massive beast reeled in pain, whipping its head up and snapping its jaws closed blindly, missing Scraff and Felnor by just feet. The two men continued to charge ahead, Scraff screaming at his young companion to move faster. Abner did not hesitate for a moment. He dropped his bow, drawing his short sword and running forward towards the wounded creature.
Scraff saw him turning and shouted something back at him, but Abner did not hear him. Abner’s world grew quiet, and he saw only the monster in front of him. It clutched at its scaly throat desperately, scratching at itself with its ferocious claws. Its face swelled and its eyes turned upward, its legs suddenly growing limp. The beast fell down, down, crashing through the jungle and snapping trees like twigs beneath it.
Scraff turned back and screamed something at Abner again, his eyes widening.
Abner, who was now directly beneath the creature’s neck, raised his sword calmly above his head, pointing it right at the beast’s throat. The monster descended towards him, as if Abner’s whole world was crashing down around him. Abner closed his eyes as the world went dark around him.
Scraff looked on in horror as the enormous monster slammed into the ground.
“ABNER!”

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GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - Maddness and Brillance

Toliver looked up from the map he was hastily drawing and checked the ship’s course.
“Turn her a couple degrees to port, Morthgow. We’re getting a bit close to the shoreline for my liking.”
“Aye, sah,” replied the helmsman, pulling the whipstaff towards him slightly. “Though if I do say so, sah, aren’t we already plenty far out?”
“If we were near any Roawian coast, I’d say yes,” answered Toliver. He pointed over the starboard rail at a mass of whitecaps foaming about two hundred yards from the shore. “But there’s some strange current here pulling south and towards the shore. That’s what’s making me suspect this is an island. The water’s getting sucked around the southern horn.” He looked back down at the parchment and continued sketching. “And that gives me hope of finding a way back to Roawia.”
Morthgow was somewhat confused. “But how are we going to sail back to the east if we’re on the western side of an island?”
“We’re going to sail north and shoot around the tip of the island,” said Toliver calmly. He continued to draw, glancing up every now and then to observe the shape of the shoreline or the formation of waves.
Morthgow’s brow remained furrowed. “But sah, with the wind from the nor’east, those mountains will block it from reaching our sails on the far side!”
Toliver continued his drawing coolly. “Indeed, there is that risk. But I estimate that the island will actually help turn the winds- and waves- in our favor.”
Morthgow grew silent. This plan didn’t quite make sense to him, and he suspected that Toliver was riding on good fortune and a gut feeling. Still, the navigator had yet to be incorrect…
“SIR!” came the cry from the lookout.
Toliver sprang to his feet. “Do you see it, sailor?!” he called up to the crow’s nest.
“Aye, sir! The land starts to curve almost due west! And there’s nothing but sea to the south of it.”
Toliver smiled, satisfied. “You see, Morthgow? Just as I promised.”
Morthgow shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, sah. Could just be a wide bay or something of the sort. Doesn’t mean this is an island for sure.”
Toliver sat back down and returned to his quill and chart. “Oh, but it is, Morthgow,” he said confidently. “And we’re about to round the horn.”

************************************************************************************
“…Two…Three, HEAVE!” yelled Scraff, pouring all of his considerable strength into his efforts.
The marines beside him grunted and gasped as they strained to lift the enormous head of the beast. They managed to shift the head and neck of the slain creature, but they could not lift it from the ground.
“It’s no use,” said Felnor with dismay. We’re just dragging the thing across the ground.”
“Aye,” chimed in another marine, breathing heavily. “And dragging the poor ranger’s body along with it. We-“
“SILENCE!” roared Scraff. “Don’t you think like that! Bring me an axe- now!”
A boarding axe was passed to the commander and he snatched it quickly, trotting over to the base of the beast’s neck. He raised it wildly above his head, burying it with a sickening crunch into the creature’s shoulder. It lodged firmly in the bone and hide of the monster, and even Scraff struggled to remove it, tugging at it with great force.
“Come on, come on!” he roared, but try as he might, he could not dislodge the blade. “Bring me another axe!” he bellowed. “Hang on, Abner! I’m coming for you!”
Another axe was brought up and Scraff took it, raising it above his head again for a second powerful strike.
“Before you run out of weapons, I would highly advise taking a brief moment to observe your surroundings,” came a quiet voice from somewhere nearby.
Scraff paused, slowly lowering the axe and looking around him. The other marines raised their weapons and formed up hastily.
“After all,” continued Abner, stepping forward into the clearing made by the monster, “that’s why I’m not actually trapped under that monstrosity.”
Scraff and the other marines looked at the ranger with wonder and disbelief.
“This can’t be… that’s impossible,” murmured the men, lowering their weapons.
“By the stars…” said Scraff with awe. “But how- I saw you… you were right under the beast when it fell!”


“Was being the key word here,” said Abner with a mischievous smile. He leapt up and hurdled the monster’s neck, landing softly beside Scraff. “But I decided that I didn’t feel like dying today.”
Scraff crossed his arms. “You would’ve had me hacking away at that thing all day!” he said.
“And we all thought you was dead!” chimed in one of the marines happily. “But now you’s not.”
“No, indeed I am very much alive,” grinned Abner. “And, Scraff, I even stopped you after the first axe. You’re welcome.”
Scraff couldn’t help but chuckle. He patted Abner on the back even harder than usual. “You really had me worried there for a minute, didn’t you? You sly dog! I bet you think yourself mighty clever for that. Which reminds me, what in blazes did you do to this thing, anyway?”
Abner raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Scraff glared at the ranger playfully. “Don’t make me hurt you… Cap’n!”
“Alright, alright,” Abner relented. “Remember that plant that almost ate you? You know, the second time you tried to get yourself killed?”
“I’ll have you know I could have beaten both the bull tortoise and some stupid flower thing,” retorted Scraff. “But yes, I remember.”
“The bull tortoise I will give you, but you would not have beaten the flower,” replied Abner. “Because that’s what I used to bring down the beast. Think about it, the mighty Commander Scraff, fallen to the mighty power of the flower…”
“You know, if I wasn’t so happy that you’re alive right now, I’d kill you,” said Scraff. “But you know you’re teasing us. Out with it. What did you do to that thing?”
“Well, I figured that since that carnivorous plant is basically a giant version of the ones that eat insects back home, it probably works the same way,” answered Abner. “And the little ones excrete a fluid that paralyzes their prey so the bugs can’t fly away. Then the plant devours them. I figured that since most of the creatures we’ve run into in New Lenfald have been much larger, it’s a fair assumption that this flower’s toxin is much more potent. I thought it would make a useful weapon against whatever we ran into. Turns out I was right.”
Scraff shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You reached in and picked up poison that could paralyze you- but didn’t- then used it to take down something twenty times your size? That doesn’t even make sense.”
Abner laughed. “Not quite. I extracted the secretion with the tip of an arrow. That’s what I was doing while we were fleeing- making sure I didn’t get any on myself. I also suspect that our monstrous friend here wouldn’t feel any effects if he just got the substance on his skin. He’s much too large for those plants to eat. But getting the poison planted in his tongue with an arrow- well, he wasn’t expecting that. And I wasn’t expecting full paralysis that quickly. Hence my rushing forward with a sword. I expected to have to distract him before the toxin took effect.”
Scraff shook his head. “That was absolute madness,” he said. “Or brilliance. I’m not quite sure. Regardless, how did you get away?”
“Ah. That was the easy part,” said Abner. “I just jumped out of the way.”
Scraff looked at him quizzically. “Seriously?” Abner shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, his neck is only a few feet wide. Made a lot more sense than just standing there waiting for him to crush me.”
“Unbelievable,” said Scraff. His brow suddenly furrowed. “Wait a moment, if you jumped aside, then your blade never pierced this beast. And the poison paralyzes. Are you saying this thing is still alive?!?”
Abner shrugged again. “So far as I know. I’m guessing the toxin probably kills its victims over time so I wouldn’t waste time worrying about it. Shall we?” He started off through the jungle again.
“Un-flippin-believable,” muttered Scraff again, drawing his sword. He plunged the blade into the soft belly of the beast for good measure, wiped his blade, and started after the rest of the party.
“I figured you would take care of that!” called Abner.
The explorers stayed one more restless night in the jungle before they made it to the less densely forested slopes of the mountains. Open ground was a welcome sight for the men, and even though the terrain was significantly steeper than they had previously encountered, no one complained. It took them four days to climb the deceivingly tall mountains, but the journey was relatively uneventful. They encountered some harmless mountain sheep (finally something that looked relatively familiar!) and a nest of large, strange looking flying creatures, but they were not threatened by any great danger.
They reached the summit on the fourth day just as the sun set on the western horizon. The peak they stood upon was mostly bare, providing a commanding view of everything for miles around. From this height, the island was astonishingly beautiful. There was lush foliage in all directions, and to the west the mountains descended more gently until they opened up onto sparkling waters.
Scraff shielded his eyes and squinted due west. “That is quite possibly the most beautiful sunset I have ever witnessed,” he said. “And Toliver was right, this is indeed an island.” He squinted harder. “And I think I can make out another small shore across the waves.”
“Indeed,” replied Abner. “I agree with you on all counts.” He gazed slowly to the south, following the curvature of the shoreline with his eyes. To the south the water cut into the land sharply, butting up to the base of the mountains. Abner pointed. “Look, Scraff, That could prove to be quite a safe haven for ships.”
Scraff looked to where Abner indicated. “Aye, and the land grows flat, broad, and open along the shore there, but the ground is more upon rock than it is sand. That’s an ideal place to build a harbor if you ask me. In fact, I’ve never seen a better location in all my travels.”
Abner nodded. “Agreed. Now we just have to get back to Lenfald so we can tell someone about- oh!”
“What is it?” asked Scraff, following Abner’s gaze. Then he saw it too. “My word,” he breathed. “Toliver’s madness paid off too.”
There, at the edge of the inlet, rested the Spirit of Lenfald at anchor.

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GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - A Discreet Return

Abner decided to make camp on the mountaintop that night so as not to risk a dark and perilous descent. The marines had gotten used to sleeping in defensive positions by now (like them landlubber rangers!) and set into their patrol base quickly. Abner and Scraff set to work building a large fire to signal the Spirit of Lenfald.
“I’m no woodsman, but this seems rather risky to me,” said Scraff, squatting to place some tinder in their shallow fire pit.
“Possibly,” said Abner. “Though I’d be much more concerned if we had encountered a tribe of people on this island. Most of the things we’ve run into are reptilian. They need the sun to warm them so they can move about, so they won’t be out after nightfall.” He snapped a handful of twigs. “Besides, most animals are very frightened of fire.”
“Most?” queried Scraff.
Abner grinned. “Aye, most.”
“Heaven help us. What about the others, then, ranger?” “Some are just too curious to help themselves. Mostly little furry critters of some sort. During the winter in Lenfald you will sometimes wake to find that one has crawled into your bedroll with you. It’s only an issue if it’s a snake or something.”
Scraff grimaced. He would never admit it, but he couldn’t stand even the thought of snakes. “Hmmm, little furry critters. I can deal with those,” he said.
“That was the first kind of creature that’s attracted to fire,” continued Abner cheerfully. “The other kind can be a bit more dangerous,” he stacked larger chunks of wood around the center of the fire pit. “They’re the big ones that try to be heroes and stamp out forest fires before they start. Unfortunately they can’t tell the difference between a raging blaze and somebody’s innocent campfire.”
Scraff was astonished. “We have those in Roawia?”
“Aye,” answered Abner. “And quite a few, actually. In Lenfald there’s a certain kind of boar who considers himself the fire warden. In Loreos it’s enormous herds of these gray horned beasts. Rhinoceros I believe they are called. Anyway, they’ve been known to stampede in droves and trample entire camps just trying to put the fires out. They can’t see very well, either, so they sometimes impale men in the process.”
“Charming,” remarked Scraff, “We have so much to look forward to.”
Abner stood and looked proudly at the tower of wood they had just constructed. “Well, she’s ready! Would you like to do the honors, Scraff?”
“Why not?” said Scraff sarcastically. “I’ve always wanted to sign my own death warrant.”
“Oh, don’t be such a canker blossom, Scraff. Here.” Abner held out a small piece of flint.
Scraff chuckled heartily and took the flint from Abner. “You really have some nerve, you know that?”
“And yet you still can’t help but laugh,” Abner joked back. “Now get on with it, unless you don’t know how to light a fire!”
“Easy there, Cap’n,” laughed Scraff. “I’ve been off the ship once or twice.” He took out his knife, stooping low over the wood shavings they had strewn about in the center of the fire pit. He slid his blade quickly and firmly across the flint several times, showering sparks over the kindling until at last it sizzled and burst into flame.
“Not too bad,” said Abner, taking the flint back and placing it in his pocket.
“Hush,” replied Scraff, turning out to face the water. “Let’s just make sure they get the message.
The fire rose quickly, the flames licking hungrily at the dry wood above them, devouring the fuel with its ravenous appetite. Soon the beacon was blazing brightly, shining out like a star resting upon the mountain peak.
“They can’t possibly miss this,” said Abner.
Sure enough, the dim glow of torches began to appear on the deck of the Spirit of Lenfald. Dozens of them sprang to life, filling the fighting deck with light. For good measure, a volley of flaming arrows was fired up into the sky.
Scraff chuckled. “Now they’re just giving us a show.”
“We should return the favor then,” said Abner, wrapping an arrowhead in a small piece of cloth.
“Now you’re really going to set the forest alight,” said Scraff with uncertainty.
“Relax,” reassured Abner, slapping Scraff on the back for once. “This’ll burn out long before it comes down.”
He dipped the arrowhead into the flames, igniting the cloth, and set the arrow to his bowstring. He waited a few moments for the fire to burn, then aimed high into the night and let the missile fly. The flaming projectile climbed high above the mountain, twinkling gloriously as it flew. It slowed and reached the crest of its arc, flickering as the cloth burned away, then turned its head towards the jungle below and plummeted towards the canopy.
“Have you always had this kind of flair for the dramatic, or did it just start when you had your little brush with our big toothy friend a few days ago?” jabbed Scraff. “
Come on now, you know that was fantastic.”
“Maybe that was a little impressive.”
The night passed into morning without any major disturbances. The marines broke camp quickly while Abner scattered the ashes from the fire and covered the area carefully with leaves and twigs.
“What are you doing?” asked Scraff.
“We never leave a trace, Scraff,” replied Abner. “That means fires, too. Your enemy can’t track you if you don’t leave them a trail.”
Scraff looked about and spread his arms. “You realize there is no enemy tracking us?”
Abner slapped Scraff on the back again and started down the mountain. “It’s just a good habit to be in.”
The descent went much faster than the climb into the mountains. The terrain was far less treacherous and the slope much gentler on the western face of the mountains. The party also did not have to pass through thick jungle as they had near the foot of the eastern slopes, hastening their travel significantly. They descended so rapidly, in fact, that they reached the beach by early evening, where they found Scraff’s lieutenant and a large contingent of marines awaiting them with the launch.
Scraff hailed his men. “Oy there, expecting trouble?” he joked.
“With you around, sir, one cannot expect much else,” quipped the lieutenant with a smile. He shook his commander’s hand firmly. “Good to have you back, sir.” He looked at Abner. “And it’s good to see you in one piece as well, Cap’n.”
Abner grinned. “Well that’s a much friendlier attitude than you bore a week ago!”
The lieutenant’s face grew beet red and his embarrassment was almost tangible. Scraff roared with laughter. “Come on, son. Let’s get back to the ship. And suffice to say you’ll think twice about mutiny in the future."
Once the launch had ferried everyone back to the Spirit of Lenfald, Abner climbed to the aftcastle to find Toliver. There sat the navigator at the table he had dragged up on deck, intently scribbling notes and sketching the terrain of the island. Abner raised an eyebrow and looked at the helmsman.
“Has he been like this the whole time?” he asked.
Morthgow nodded. “Aye, sah. He’s barely slept or eaten since he came back aboard. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t counted every seabird on this island by now!”
Abner chuckled and moved towards Toliver. “What’s the word, Toliver? Have you found us a route back to Lenfald?”
Toliver continued to scribble on his parchment as if Abner wasn’t there.
Abner furrowed his brow slightly and started again. “Toliver, have-“ He stopped abruptly as the navigator held up a finger for silence. Another man would have been insulting his captain, but Abner knew Toliver meant no offense. He was simply a strange- but very capable- man.
Toliver finally looked up from his parchment. “Cap’n. I believe I have found us a route,” he stated.
“That’s good,” replied Abner. “Then set our course for home.”
Toliver shook his head. “Not quite, Cap’n. You see, we must first sail west.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” demanded Abner.
“We sailed north from here when we first rounded the horn,” answered Toliver. “But we were blocked by an arm of this very same island.”
Abner looked at Toliver blankly. “I don’t follow. What are you talking about?”
Toliver continued impatiently. “This is an island, but it’s twice the island we thought it was. You see, it’s got two arms,” he said, moving his arms in a giant upside-down “U” motion. “Like this. They point to the south and are joined to the north. I highly suspect they do not continue much further north. In their center is a circular island that we saw on our journey northward. Cap’n, I believe that if we sail west and round the horn of the second arm of the island, we can sail north and find a westward wind that will return us to familiar shores. It should carry us somewhere just north of Isil Oro, if I understand correctly.”
Abner was impressed. “That’s quite the deduction,” he said. “But how do you know this land does not continue far to the north of here?”
Toliver hesitated. “Cap’n, I am asking you to trust me. I can’t know this for certain and I don’t pretend to. But with how the clouds and winds form here, it would seem that New Lenfald opens onto the water north of here. And I do believe we will find open water and friendly winds if we sail west and north. Besides,” he added. “Even if we do not, we will still be hugging the coast and we can go ashore for fresh water and food whenever we need it.”
Abner considered his navigator’s words for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “Aye, Toliver. I trust both your judgment and intuition. Lead us home!”
Toliver did just that, proving that his reputation as the best navigator in Roawia was more than justified. In fact, he was right to the smallest detail. New Lenfald was indeed composed of two connected, southward-pointing arms and it did not extend far to the north. Upon rounding the northwestern corner of the island, the Spirit of Lenfald was indeed spurred eastward by a powerful western wind, causing the crew to cheer.
Under Toliver’s careful guidance, the ship plowed steadily eastward. Her sails were never slack and she made great time- the distant coast of Roawia was spotted on the tenth day. Toliver’s predictions were once again incredibly accurate; the Spirit of Lenfald was sailing straight for the fishing pier at the north end of Isil Oro’s harbor.


As they approached, Abner addressed the crew. “Gentlemen, I cannot express my gratitude to you for your incredible efforts on this unexpected adventure. And I would also like to express my profound thanks for not beheading me while we were stuck in the doldrums.”
The crew laughed heartily and somewhat sheepishly.
“Truly men, all is forgiven and I hope that you will forgive your inexperienced captain for getting you into this mess. I am deeply sorry for separating you from your families for such a time. I, too, was separated from mine and I can empathize with you. If your wives try to beat you with their broomsticks, I will be happy to intervene.”
Another laugh from the men.
Abner grew more solemn. “Men, on this joyous occasion we can celebrate the fact that through all of our tribulations, we did not lose a single one of our crew. I consider that miraculous and for that I will always be grateful. However, there is a very serious matter we must discuss before we can go ashore.” Abner cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, it is imperative that you do not share word of our discovery with anyone. I know this will be very difficult, as I myself am brimming with excitement at having found a new land. However, there are spies everywhere in these uncertain times and if news of land to the west fell into their hands… well, it could threaten not only Lenfald’s claims to our island, but the safety of our brothers and sisters who will undoubtedly return there. So I ask you all to please keep your knowledge of New Lenfald to yourselves for the time being. Please, gentlemen, for the sake of our great nation.”
There was a quiet murmur of agreement and a half-hearted chorus of “aye,” from the crew. Abner understood their feelings. He was dying to tell everyone that he had discovered a new land, too. He just hoped the men would be wise enough to keep their mouths shut for the moment.
The Spirit of Lenfald dropped anchor and the launch was lowered into the water. A pair of rowboats came steadily towards the ship from the pier to help carry the crew to shore. Abner boarded one of these boats with Scraff, Toliver, Morthgow, and a couple marines and they started off towards the docks of Isil Oro.
As they neared the shore, Abner turned to look at the city that awaited them. There, standing on the edge of the dock, just as she had promised, was Serena. Abner leapt to his feet, rocking the boat as he did so.
“Easy there, son,” said one of the rowers gruffly.
Abner paid him no mind. He waved frantically, but he needn’t have. Serena had already seen him and her face was filled with emotion. There were tears in her eyes and a huge smile pasted across her face. She was waving to him with both arms as she ran along the dock to where the boat would land.
As soon as the craft came alongside the pier Abner leapt from it, grasping the edge of the dock and springing up onto the planks. He caught Serena as she plowed into his arms, barely preventing them both from going into the water.
Serena grabbed his face and kissed him long and passionately, then pushed him back to arms’ length and looked him in the eye.
“You’re late,” she said.
“I love you too,” replied Abner, embracing her again.
Scraff clambered out of the boat and came over to them smiling. “Well, it’s good to see you too together again,” he said. “And Serena, remind me to never cross you. You’re a dedicated woman.”
Serena laughed and dried her eyes. “Oh, shut it, Scraff, and go find some wench to flirt with who’ll listen to your exaggerated tales.”
Scraff and Abner exchanged glances.
“What?” asked Serena.
“Nothing,” replied Abner quickly. “I promise I’ll tell you later.”
At that moment a shout came from up the street.
“Oy! Who’s the captain of this vessel that’s just come into port?”
Abner turned to face his addresser. A tall, thin man wearing fine armor and the garments of the Isil Oro Guard was walking towards him, flanked by two of his men.
“That would be me, good sir,” answered Abner, taking a step towards the man.
“Well then, I presume I am addressing Abner, captain of the Spirit of Lenfald,” said the man, smiling broadly and extending his hand. “I am Lorthand, captain of the guard. It is indeed good to see you. We thought you lost at sea!”
Abner shook Lorthand’s hand firmly. “Well met, Lorthand. Indeed we were for a time…” Abner’s voice trailed off.
Lorthand looked curiously at Abner, detecting something in the ranger’s face.
“Perhaps you would like to discuss this matter somewhere more private?” Lorthand asked.
“That would be for the best,” replied Abner.
“Come then, we will go to my office,” said Lorthand, beckoning one of his men. “John, make haste to the city hall and alert the Duke of Captain Abner’s return,” he ordered. “And have one of the messengers prepare for a journey to Stonewald,” he added. “I have a feeling there is some great importance in the story our ranger friend has to tell."

As Lorthand led the others into Isil Oro, a plainly dressed man stepped casually off of the street unobserved and started carefully up the road after them.
This man had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on the former Lord Triphian, who now under the name of Sir Tripp seemed to be enjoying a simple fishing day. Perhaps he really had retired as High Lord of Lenfald, after all. This group however seemed more interesting, and the talk he overheard of a trip to Stonewald "of some great importance" was too much to ignore....

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GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - A Den of Vipers

Lenfel ports were known for the constant bustle of traders and seafarers, but to Prince Jarius of Loreos this one seemed even too loud and too busy for his liking. Though it was a misty night under veiled stars, boats of all shapes and sizes continued to arrive at the docks, ready to unload their cargoes or, in Jarius’ case, head to the nearest inn for a late drink. Accompanying the Prince were two members of his ship’s crew, namely Paulius and Marcus, both of whom were part of his personal guard. All three of them wore the garb of common sailors, in an effort to remain anonymous outside their own land.

That, after all, was the reason they were in Lenfald – to be given information by a Loreesi source, and not to be noticed whilst doing so. Rumours of a strange discovery were spreading across Roawia, but as of yet most were unconfirmed, yet Jarius was certain they were true. They were too good not to be true. If indeed there was another land, somewhere across the sea, then Loreos must know, before the whole continent found out – the race was on.

The tavern was dark and musty inside, with the mixed scents of ale and smoke wafting out through the open door and into the night. Spotting an empty table in the corner, Paulius led the Prince through the crowd, making sure to keep him from the quick hands of pickpockets that were so common in such establishments.

“Where is he?” Jarius muttered under his breath, eyes darting around the room as he tried to spot the face of the Areani spy who was supposed to be there.

“Bartender!” called Paulius, motioning for the tall man to bring them drinks. Moments later he came over with four tankards and placed them on the table.

“There are only three of us, friend” said Jarius. The bartender smiled and took a large gulp from one.

“Yes, my lord” he replied, with a wink. Jarius’ eyes widened as it dawned on him that this man, who seemed so ordinary, could be the Areani scout.

“Are you…?” began Jarius, only to be interrupted by the ‘bartender’.

“You didn’t recognise me at first,” the Areani said with a grin, then his smile faded into seriousness as he took a seat. “I have much to tell you.”

The company had been in the tavern for little over an hour, listening with intent to the news the Areani had to give them concerning the Lenfel discovery. Little did they know, they were not the only ones in the inn to have heard such reports. Across the room stood a broad-shouldered fellow with a short dark beard and a beady eye – a Garhim, on a mission for his Jarl to learn all he could about the rumours from Lenfald. He had noticed the bartender was engaged in deep conversation with three of the inn’s visitors, who at first glance seemed little more than the sailors who so often frequented the place. Yet, to the Garhim, there was something not quite right about this little group of men. Clearly at least one of them was armed, for a short scabbard had been plainly visible to him when the men took their seats, though it was quickly concealed. Realising this was his best opportunity to gather information, the Garhim moved towards them.

“Good evening, boys!” he called as he drew closer. “Tom! Jared lad! Over here!” The Loreesi glanced up to see a cheerful looking man standing over them. His face fell as they looked upon him. “Ah,” said he, “I am mistaken. I thought you were some friends of mine.” Paulius smiled and nodded in acceptance of his answer.

“Not to worry,” the Garhim continued. “I am curious, though, as to where you men” – he pointed at Jarius, Paulius and Marcus – “are from. You have strange accents.” He himself spoke in as ordinary a voice as he could, to disguise his northern accent. Jarius glanced at the Areani.

“We are shipping merchants, we travel always. I suppose you could say we aren’t from anywhere!” All five laughed, most of all the large Garhim, though he was curious as to why the answer given was so ambiguous.

“Perhaps we need another round,” he said, lifting his empty tankard. “Bartender!” Since the Areani ‘bartender’ had apparently forsaken his work, two men Jarius had not yet seen stood at the bar together. One was slim and wiry-looking, whilst the man next to him was a short, fat drunkard with a ragged beard. Paulius rose to help the friendly stranger carry over their mugs, and was served by the slim man, who said nothing as he poured out the ale. The drunkard was teetering as he tried to stay standing, gaining an apparently amused look from the bartender, who moved on to serve the next person waiting. With a quick flicker of his eyes and a nod of his head, however, he looked in the direction of the ‘merchant sailors’ in the corner, and the man conversing with them, and the drunkard staggered in that direction. The bartender caught him and whispered in the fat man’s ear.

“They’re not sailors, and that man with them is a Garhim, I know that much. All of them are lying, as much as we are.” The drunkard nodded and proceeded to fool around close to the party, hoping to catch snatches of the conversation. The Garhim, though, had his suspicions of the bartender and the fat man with him – he knew, after all, that they were actually brothers, and this was enough for him to be wary, along with the fact that he had not seen the ‘drunk’ consume any alcohol all evening.

“Watch him boys,” the Garhim spy said to the men with him. “And watch yerselves too. He’s likely a pickpocket, that wee man.” Unaware that for a brief moment that his accent had reverted back to its natural northern lilt, he continued talking, still working to gain the men’s trust and, eventually, get some information out of them, once the drink had loosened their tongues. The Areani leant down and spoke in Jarius’ ear, as his suspicions had been aroused.

“His accent shifted. Sounded like a Garhim for a moment there.” Jarius nodded in response but did nothing. If the stranger was indeed putting on a pretence, he knew his Loreesi wouldn’t tell him anything confidential. Besides, if possible he wanted to spend longer in this place, and listen from a distance to the various Lenfel sailors inside.

Looking sideways at the fat drunkard, Jarius saw he was in conversation with the bartender, and they were both staring down at a scrap of parchment, held by a figure clad in black. This in itself was not strange, except for the fact that the ‘drunkard’ didn’t appear to be drunk anymore. Instead, his voice kept rising to a loud whisper, before dropping again at nudges from the other men. The Loreesi prince heard only snatches of their talk, but it was enough to make him doubly wary. Payment...discovery...map...Lenfel...these words were troubling. It seemed that maybe, just maybe, the islands Lenfald seemed to have found were not so secret anymore. What Jarius didn’t see would have confirmed his fears. The changing of coins between the bartender and the dark figure, their hasty disappearance from the tavern, and not least the way they referred to themselves as Outlaws. Jarius quickly led his men out into the night and away from the prying eyes inside, away from the stranger at their table. They headed back to the merchant ship at the docks.

Neither the Loreesi, the Garhim spy nor the Outlaws realised just how many others had been at the docks that night for the same purpose, nor how many people now knew of Lenfald’s discovery. The race was indeed on.

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - The Prince and the Shadows (Part One)

The early morning air was crisp and the moon shallow as Prince Jarius quietly stepped down the tiled halls of the old Palace breathing in the calm cool breeze that was wafting in through the opened arched windows. He stopped for a moment and quickly admired their design and remembered how his father the old Prince Mark had enjoyed this Palace. That is long before the vile darkness of the Queen's forces corrupted its hall. Regardless for the time being this place was his home and although the new Palace was growing nearer to completion a part of him was nostalgic for the times when he and brother used to play in these halls dancing about fencing their small dull ornate blades at each other, while their father carried on his business and affairs of state. It had been a good time and although Jarius had wanted the same for his sons and daughter, he knew it wouldn't be the same. With a slight rasp, Jarius rested his hand on the wall and felt the velvet curtains and with a hushed tone that maybe only a mouse could hear, he whispered "It will never be the same" to himself.

With a frown he carried on towards the glowing lights at the end of the hallway where his bedchamber stood under guard. As he grew closer the two guards immediately went to action and silently with soft padded movements presented arms. While two more guards almost seamless appeared from the shadows on padded shoes and came about behind him. As the light flickered upon his face, the Guards quickly stood down without a tone and resumed positions. Jarius was impressed, but who knew these men were above and beyond just good at their job. They were trained to be specialist, and capable of wet work if he desired. A welcome thought smiled Jarius to himself as he opened the oiled door and walked into his bedroom. To his surprised his darling wife wasn't in the room and the crib only had one baby his little girl Valeria sleeping holding a stuff animal elephant she had received from her doting Grand Father. As Jarius noted, he quickly turned from the main room and walked over to the other apartment that adjoined his master bedroom where his son slept. He realize that maybe Helena had gone for a walk and that little Lorius was being colicky again. He certainly missed his family and the adventure into Lenfald that had taken him away along with that fishing trip had him desperate to see his darling along with the wee ones. It was a tricky business and he knew that even more dangerous business was afoot. For his nephew was stationed with a growing army of Loreesi along the northern border and had repeatedly sent back messages in a mocking tone. While others like Lord Stout had been busy building rage amongst his allies, at the same time Lord Xavier (his father in law) had been hunting down those who attempted to wreak havoc upon his people to bring them to open justice. It was indeed a dangerous time he thought as he opened the door to his son Sebastien's room. To his happy eyes his wife was there waltzing with the babe in her arms and singing in a soft gentle tone to cool his little lads fever that was most certainly due to his lack of sleep.

As Jarius stood their taking in the image with a genuine sense of warm happiness his wife with an even bigger smile walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "I missed you deeply my love" she exclaimed in his ear with a slight bite on his ear.

"I missed you too, more than anything in this world" replied Jarius as he embraced his wife and doted over his little son.

"How was the north my darling? What is going on there?" inquired Helena in a hushed tone as she rocked the babe in her arms who was starting to settle down.

"Things are getting more tenuous and not as they appear" frowned Jarius as he walked over towards sleeping Sebastien and put his hand down to feel the soft locks of his son's dark hair as he admired how much the boy reminded him of his dear older brother.

"Word has come in that they have found a new land and yet they desire to shelter this information from the rest of us Roawian's by veiling it with secrecy. When we attempt to build new ships, they raid our harbours and burn them killing many a sailor with the flames of their shameful actions. Our people bleed my darling and the cowards stalk back into the shadows then deny they did such actions. They even had the daring desire to state it was Loreesi dissidents..." grumbled Jarius as he firmly grasped the headboard of his son's bed.

"I had to tell the families of the sailors who have perished and the people who have been killed in the darkness that their sons, daughters, my fellow Loreesi were caught in tragic accidents. It's horrible to lie to your people" he replied with a tear of regret descending from his cheek as his wife caressed his back.

"My darling, you only did what you must" she replied with a soft tone into his ear.

"Yes...what you must" replied a shadow from the corner.

"You always do what you must, don't you Jarius" jested the shadow as it moved closer to the light.

"Who said that?" Shuddered Helena as she cowed closer to the corner by her sons bed.

"The Order watches, the Order notes and the Order acts Prince and Princess" smirked the shadow as he darkened the room by shuddering one of the flames of a nearby candle.

"The Order of Shadows" deftly replied Jarius as he bit his lip.

"Yes...you remember us my Prince" sneered the voice as it shifted in the growing gloom.


"Oh...we kill, when we must and I see you recognized my accent...good on you" replied the voice as a shiny blade appeared from the shadows with a distinct Lenfel design. It was simple, yet ornate in the sense the steel was polished with a bronze etching trim.

With a distinct view of shock the Prince stepped backward as the shadow grew a little closer.

"Why me? Why my family?" gasped the Prince for meaning.

"Why...simple, the safety of many and the prevention of a war that your Areani are so eager to be in. Even your amassing forces is a clear sign of this. Only a blind man would not see that the viper is not amused to just listen, but that it desires to stick its venom into it's would be prey" harshly intoned the dark figure.

"I have no desire" replied Jarius as he stood firm.

"Oh...neither did your father or brother...yet they are not here to tell you that" grinned the figure as he drew nearer getting poised for his dance of death.

"Jarius, just call the guards" whispered his wife.

"I can't...he will stick is as fast as he can before they will even get a quarter in the room" he gently pushed her back.

"What do you mean about my father and brother?" questioned Jarius at the man.

"Mmmm...you will never know Prince of the Desert" snorted the man as he jumped at the Prince who with a quick movement of his foot flipped his son's small blade into the air and grasped it to hold back the fury of the Assassins drop. With a ting of metal clashing they exchanged blows and the Prince with a quick thrust, punched the dark figure in the face forcing the man to ball backwards briefly.

"Well done" jested the Shadow as he gathered his ground and spit a glob of blood on the tiled floor. "Well done indeed, I suppose I should not have expected less from a Master of the Areani" sneered the shadow. "I will not make that same mistake twice" roared the man as he jumped again.

"I do...and your kind typically never comes to kill anyone. So what do you want Lenfel?" harshed barked Jarius as he pushed himself in front of his family stepping carefully over his sons practice sword which was more like a long dagger than a real blade.

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - The Prince and the Shadows (Part 2)


Mark of Falworth and his force of Loreesi soldiers had camped so long on the border of Lenfald that they had forgotten what it was like to feel the sand beneath their feet.

Mark stood underneath a small cluster of trees with some of the knights in his army when his second-in-command Sir Didrik strolled up.
“Greetings Sir Didrik. How are you today, on this damp and miserable morning?”

Didrik saluted. “Tolerable, Sir. I have some news from the Prince.”

Mark winced and closed his eyes as if in deep pain. “Don’t raise my hopes again, just to dash them as on the ragged cliffs!”

Didrik did his best to look sympathetic. “My apologies, sir, but it seems we will have to wait longer to raise our sword against the Lenfel.”

Mark hung his head in grief. “I fear I shall never live to see another glorious war… Ah! It is of no use. What ridiculous stunt does his majesty require us to do THIS time?”

Didrik cheerfully raised the scroll he was carrying. “Fear not, Sire! It seems that the army is free to depart from the border!”

Mark’s dark mood was considerably lightened by the news. “Well, that’s a nice change for the better!”

Didrik looked back at his scroll in concern. “But, there is one small issue, he wants you personally to come at once to Dalmanutha. His tone seems rather angry… perhaps you should read it yourself.”

Mark snatched the paper from his aide, cleared his throat and read it out loud.
“Dear Mark,
Your force is no doubt weary of guarding the river. It seems unlikely the Lenfels will launch an invasion before the new year, and we had best keep our own men fresh and ready for the time of need. Send them all home for the winter, or until further notice.

But as for you, I hear you have been undermining my rule of our people. Making jokes of my reasonable, sensible requests? This will end. Right now. Come to the capital at once, or suffer the consequences.

Kind regards,
~Jarius”

Mark looked up from the letter with a grave look on his face. “So, it has come to this…”

Didrik’s eyes widened in fear. “What is our course of action, Mark?”

Mark clenched both his fists and snarled. “The warrior inside me wants to march my entire force down to the capital and knock the doors of the palace down right in Jarius’ face!!”
Suddenly, Mark caught himself. His passions and anger had gotten the better of him. He looked away quickly. “But my father wouldn’t want it so… A divided Loreos is a dead Loreos. I shall never be the first to strike the death blow. We shall do as the Jarius asks, one more time…”

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Mark of Falworth and his loyal sidekick, Didrik, set out for Dalmanutha after receiving the ominous message from Prince Jarius. Little did they realize that the Prince sent several groups of Loreesi knights to lie in wait alongside the road, and forcibly escort Mark to the capital city. Luckily for our heroes, an over-friendly used camel dealer by the name of Yursuff was heading the opposite direction and warned Mark and Didrik of the waiting force. Mark, not wishing to be surrounded, and perhaps arrested, by a sizeable group of possibly hostile knights, thought it wise to sneak by in the disguise of other used camel dealers accompanying the ever-helpful Yursuff.

After reaching the great dry expanse of desert, Mark grumbled about the situation. “I can still hardly believe that used camel dealers don’t occasionally ride thoroughbreds…”

Yursuff piped up indignantly. “Eyyyyah! It would-a be a crying shame for a man of the camels to be seen-a riding a horse!”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Did you ever think that it would also be an enormous shame for a noble knight to be seen riding a disgusting camel?!”

Yursuff smiled, revealing his seven teeth. “I’m-a not the one who made-a you go around in disguise.”

Mark sighed deeply. “Yes, this situation is my doing. I’m sorry Yursuff, it’s not your fault. These weighty matters are making me irritable, and you’ve been a great help. Why, without you, we might be in chains by now!”

Didrik tightened the reigns on his camel. “Jarius does seems to want you arrested, Mark. Do you still think it wise to head to the capital? The Prince may be seeking to end you!”

Mark rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It does seem to be a dangerous state of affairs, Didrik. But I think my refusing his summons by hiding may be just the provocation he needs to condemn me. No, we must head to Dalmanutha. But that doesn’t mean we can’t arrive in a quiet and unseen manner.”

Didrik scratched his head. “So, we are to sneak in to the city?”

Mark nodded. “Yes, for a while there, I wished to be at odds with the Prince, and I was even eager for a civil war. Now I feel that I could never forgive myself if I were to raise my sword against my countrymen. I will try to reason with him alone before such a calamity takes place.”

Didrik wiped the sweat from his brow. “That’s probably the best thing to do, but for heaven’s sake, do be careful. Loreos would quickly crumble apart if you were beheaded.”

Mark swallowed hard. “Hopefully Jarius won’t have a desire or chance to do that. I can handle a good amount of armed troops myself, and I think the Areani are more favorable to me than the Prince. In fact, I hope they haven’t tried anything against him…” At this point Mark began to seriously ponder the possibility of Areani interference, but his musings were interrupted when Yursuff pointed towards to horizon. “Well I hope-a everything is okay-dokay. Cause thay-a is the city.”

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Mark of Falworth and his companions finally arrived at the gates of the capital of Loreos at the crack of dawn. The huge walls stretched for miles and presented an unavoidable obstacle for any invading force. But now the towers and fortifications presented a different purpose, they stood as a dividing wall between two sides to a potential struggle of epic proportions, a struggle between Jarius Lorean, and Mark of Falworth.
The three travelers paused beneath the shadow of the entrance, barely a soul stirred to distract their preoccupied gaze.
Yursuff was the first to break the suspenseful silence. “See-a! I-a told you I could-a get you to da Capatal saflee!”

Mark turned around to face his companions with a look of amusement. “Yes, Yursuff. We never should have doubted you.”

Didrik was not completely convinced of their safety, and he eyed the city watch on the walls with a nervous glance. “Are you sure you want to go in alone, Mark? Surely, Yursuff and I could lend you aid should the prince attempt any evils against you.”
Mark shook his head and smiled. “I thank you both for your loyalty, but this is something I must do alone. Jarius wants to see me, and probably kill me. But I’ve been able to survive worse odds before and I need someone to carry some messages should I somehow not make it out.”

Didrik looked surprised. “Messages? For whom?”

Mark gestured with his arm in order to emphasize his directions. “Here is the plan. I go to see Jarius alone. But once I leave you, you begin to count the minutes. After one hour, and if I have not come back, you head for Capernaum post haste, where you will alert my forces of what has happened. They can choose to either strike out against the Prince, who has either captured or killed his own nephew, or they can disperse, and my name will soon be forgotten from history. Understood?”

Didrik’s brow wrinkled in distress at the thought of his friend being forgotten. “Why, every soldier in the army would give his life for your cause, Mark! We would never let history forget you!”

Mark adjusted his turban. “Don’t despair yet, Didrik! Before the hour is up, you may hear that the Prince, the Palace Guard, the City Watch, the Military Garrison and the Royal Fleet in the harbor have been overcome by me, and that I am master of the entire city! But if things should fare badly with me, and I come bursting out the gates hotly pursued by the Prince, it would be wise to be ready to run just in case.”
Didrik tried his best not to smile at the irony and ridiculous impossibility of both scenarios. “Understood, Sir. Good luck.”
Mark turned and began to walk to the gates but before he entered he whirled around and called out behind him. “Farewell my friends! Pray all goes well!”

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - The Prince and the Shadows (Part Three)


It had felt like ages since Mark strolled through the Gates of Dalmanutha. The last time he was here he was greeted by his Uncle with a warm embrace and a revelation that he may never be the next Prince. It was a troubling thought as Mark always felt it was his destiny to become the next Prince and that his Uncle was just warming his seat for his eventual rise to the prime spot in Loreos. Of course those thoughts seemed less troubling than the site of so very few guards at the entrance. There certainly seemed to be heavy activity up on the wall itself, but inside as Mark passed through the Western Gate he soon found just light patrols walking about and a few guards pointing spears gesturing him further inwards. It wasn't until he exited the gate and soon seen another wall that he realize why so few guards were present at this passage. The majority seemed to be hemmed with a growing crowd near another entrance along the inner newer wall.

'I suppose this must have been one of those brilliant ideas of my darling Uncle' hushly intoned Mark to himself as he strolled over to the crowd of people and soon found himself in a line of merchants who were eager to get inside to sell their wares at the morning markets of the city. Eventually he was pulled from this line and shuffled to a smaller line where individuals who were carrying light items were being pressed into a small entrance in the new inner wall. As Mark seen many of them appeared grumpy. Some were chipper, others were chatting this and that saying things like 'its never a dull moment in Dalmanutha' or harping over the latest gossip. Of course Mark with his keen senses attempted to hear what that was and pulled together snippets here and there as the line moved forward. Words that came out were 'Prince, Assassin, Death, Shadows and Warrant for Arrest', at first Mark started to get worried, but knew he needed to find out what his Uncle wanted so he kept moving forward. Atleast one good thing was the line was moving relatively quickly compared to the main gate line where more guards were inspecting each load. Eventually Mark passed through this gate and found a wicket in front of him. One fellow walked forward and the wicket dropped to bar Mark's movement. Eventually that fellow was processed and went on, then it was Mark's turn. The wicket lifted and he pranced forward to the rather nice kiosk as the wicket dropped behind him barring his escape. 'Oh well' thought Mark. As he looked around, there seemed to be several guards moving about and merchants either being interviewed or pressing forward towards the streets and the markets. As Mark leaned on the counter he glanced over to his right and seen a long haired soldier in the back of the kiosk fiddling with some documents.

Mark wasn't a shy fellow so he just said "Looks rather busy these days" hoping to spark a conversation with the long haired soldier. "Why I don't reckon I have ever seen the City so busy" stated Mark as he sighed and looked back at the anger looking people behind the wicket.

"Dalmanutha is always busy" replied the long haired soldier in a clear, audible and rather attractive sounding feminine voice.

"Now...here are the documents I need. Hi, my name is Rachel and I'm going to be your customs and clearance agent for this morning" stated the rather chipper and incredibly attractive female soldier.

"Hi Rachel, my name is ah...Mar...Martin Savard." replied Mark smartly as he removed his white Keffiyeh to reveal his rather messed up but still savy blond hair and to of course give her the classic Falworth smile. 'Ladies dig the smile' thought Mark 'they always dig the smile'.

"Excellent, well Martin are you new to Dalmanutha...I mean...are you...uh..." blushed Rachel as she scrambled to find the right document "Whoopsie. I seem to ah...oh wait here it is. Mr...uh Savard right...you will need to fill out this document to...um enter the city since you have already been here before...right?" tersely replied Rachel as she bit her lip under Mark's handsome smile and glare.

"Why thank you Rachel" replied Mark as he reached out with one hand and grabbed the documents meanwhile with the other grabbed her hand and gave it a gentlemen's kiss which made her cheeks blossom with renewed redness.

As Mark went to make more moves on this rather attractive agent, a group of Guards came marching over with a Captain of the Guard in gilded armour. The fellow with his bushy moustache came over and noticed the unbecoming interaction between the agent and this not at all shy fellow.

"WHAT IS GOING ON OVER HERE!" Harped the Captain of the Guard at the two.

"Uh...uh...sir...I was just helping Mr. Savard with his documents" replied Rachel mortified by the tone of the Guard Captain.

"I'm sure" replied the Guard Captain as he rolled his eyes.

"Regardless get this man processed and...wait a minute. I know you" replied the Guard Captain as he craned in to inspect Mark. As he pressed forward another Merchant who had recently been cleared yet grumpy from his interaction barked out

"YOU GUARDS! WHEN WILL YOU LEAVE US HARD WORKING FOLK ALONE. JUST LET THE BEGGAR IN"

As he began to protest one of the Guards pulled his sword and quickly jabbed it at the man's throat. The Captain turned to the Merchant and glared at him then said "Hush you fool...that man is Mark of Falworth, not some Savard guy"

"MARK OF FALWORTH!" replied the Merchant with surprise "YOU MEAN THE MURDERER MARK OF FALWORTH!!!" Yelled the man with shock in his voice. Soon the crowd behind the wicket began to harp and yell "MURDERER! FIEND! ARREST HIM! ARREST MARK OF FALWORTH!"

Quickly the Guards began to move into position and pull their weapons "Sir...please come with us quietly and by my honour you will be protected" replied the Guard Captain

As Mark moved forward thinking about his options he noticed more clearly who the Guard Captain was "Herald?" questioned Mark.

"Yes sir...it is I. Herald of Rosethorn" frowned the Guard Captain.

"Herald...you are a sworn sword to Falworth. Why are you hear as a Guard Captain?" remarked Mark in surprise.

"Sir...that is a long story, however you know I am and always have been like all Loreesi sworn to the Prince before any other man. So it is my sworn duty to bring you to justice. Please do not make it harder than it needs to be and we shall make sure you are protected at all costs from the mob in the city" pleaded Herald the Guard Captain.

Mark again weighed his options. He could climb the wall or jump behind the counter and make some sort of escape, but the mob behind him and the one starting to grow beyond the Guards clearly showed him that the city was more hostile than he thought. With a sigh he reluctantly extended his hands and allowed the Guards to chain him up. "Thank you sir" replied Herald with a sigh of relief.

"No...thank you Herald. If you are as noble as you say you are, you will indeed protect me from the mob" ordered Mark as he walked towards the guards.

"Sir it is my duty and sir...I will inform you of the truth, not the gossip once we are at the New Palace safe and sound" gestured Herald as the Guards grew in numbers around Mark to both guard and protect him from the mob that had started to throw rotten fruit in his general direction.

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Mark fell into wonderment as he was ushered from the Western Gates through the busy streets of Dalmanutha. The City itself seemed busier than ever and the streets were remarkably improved from the old Dalmanutha he remembered. Where once had been muck and sometimes stone had been replaced with cobble stones, clear paths, torch light lantern's and bordered trimmed railings that kept sloshing residue from the canals. Clearly the Prince had spared no expense improving the City works or maybe it was the influx of Merchant funds from the new Council and his father in law who controlled a vast Merchant Empire of wealth. Regardless Mark was in awe at the new fortifications, new streets, new housing and even when he seen it his eyes almost popped at the grand gates of the Arbiters Hill, home of the New Palace his Uncle had commissioned to replace the old Palace which had been tainted by the affluence of the evil Queen.

As they marched along, Herald kept informing Mark of the changes and even the new military standards he was seeing. The City Guard had been replaced by the Urban Guard a new elite policing force who were slowly being branched out to other cities by decree of the Prince and his council. They were led by an Urban Chief Commander or as the locals called him "the Chief" in this city and in other cities they also had Chiefs who were locals elected to the office to lead in the protection and enforcement of Loreesi laws. It all seemed strange to him and yet it felt right. Justice was being served and the people seemed more content, even prosperous under this change. As they came through the gates and marched through the Grand Market of Mark the Wise, the very fellow Mark had been named after his dear Grand Father, they came to the Gates of the New Palace. It was much more grand in size than the old Palace and even more fortified with the Morastian Guard everywhere in site. Herald explained quickly to Mark that the Morastian Guard no longer left the acropolis, they only went where the Prince went and that the Urban Cohort at this time had to hand Mark over to the Morastian Guard.

"Tis my honour to serve as your protector my good sir. However, my men must depart to return to their duties. I on the other hand did promise to be your advocate and will continue onward with you." replied Herald as Mark was abruptly grabbed then inspected again and checked over by the Morastian Guards before being pushed in through the main gates of the Palace.

"His highness the Prince is expecting you" replied one of the Guards in a dark tone.

"Herald..." stated Mark questioningly

"Yes sir." replied Herald as they marched through the vaulted hallways.

"You never told me what my charges were. In fact I only gleamed a general idea what they might be while we were at the Western Gate, but officially I would like to know what I'm being charged with" inquired Mark.

"Well...sir...in all honestly I don't actually believe the charges...however I must confess you are being charged with Murder and the death of your Uncle along with his Royal family" decreed Herald with an earnest and sincere tone.

"SAY WHAT!!!" replied Mark in a shocked tone as he vomited on the floor at hearing such terrible news.

"Control yourself good sir" replied Herald as he attempted to calm Mark down.

"YOU NEVER TOLD ME!!! I WOULD NEVER..." shouted Mark at the top of his lungs at this outrage. Atleast until one of the Morastian Guards smacked him hard with the hilt of his sword shutting him up and forcing Mark to a slightly limp state.

"I tried to warn you sir. The Morastian Guard do not abide by any form of outbursts. They are extremely diligent in controlling situations" whispered Herald in the ears of Mark as he helped him back up.

"Sir, control your tone or else the next time you will not be so lucky" darkly replied one of the Guards.

"Herald...I would never hurt nor kill my Uncle and his family" silently stated Mark.

"I know that sir...however the charges are quiet clear...regardless we are almost to the location for your trial" gestured Herald as he pointed off to the room nearby with the gilded yet unfinished gates.

As the small group entered the room escorted by the Guards, they soon found the room a very large expansive throne room deep in the center of the palace. To Mark's further surprise the room was full of nobles from all the regions of Loreos. Even council members and knights. He seen members like Lord Stout, Hayden of Loreos Ultra, the Merchant Lord Haydar and just about every lord, Duke, Baron or Baroness, Knight he could possibly imagine seemed to be present in the room. Some were smiling, while a few seemed to be chuckling as Mark was brought forward shambling in chains towards the throne. As he was dropped to his knees he looked up and from the throne came his Uncle in his regal blacks holding his gilded sword "Lionheart" the famed sword of his ancestor the first Prince of Loreos which was said to have been crafted from the stars above.

"MARK!" exclaimed Jarius with a booming voice above and beyond the crowd assembled.

"YOU HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE TO FACE THE MOST TERRIBLE OF CRIMES! ALTHOUGH SOME HAVE TOLD YOU THAT YOU ARE TO BE TRIED FOR MURDER! AS YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE THE DEED WAS NEVER FINISHED! THE CRIME IS ATTEMPTED MURDER AND ATTEMPTED REGICIDE! HOW DO YOU PLEAD!" decreed the Jarius.

"NOT GUILTY!" Barked back Mark as he stared at the crowds assembled. To his surprise Lords and nobles who had been sworn and loyal to only even him were present. A dark sense of betrayal flowed in Mark at this moment. It was truly his darkest hour or so he thought.

"VERY WELL! LET THE TRIAL BEGIN!" Ordered Jarius as he waived his hand and chief prosecutor Horatio Stevias took that as his cue. In his gilded and golden armour with the crest of the Old House of Lorean, he paraded to the foreground and began to start the debate. He pronounced Mark a traitor and called him many a terrible thing. As he finished his arguments to Mark's surprise Herald came forward and began to debate against Horatio in the name of Mark. He put up a valiant effort and called upon many a witness even those who were present in Mark's camp just a few weeks prior. To Mark's surprise Horatio also called witnesses who remarked about Mark's tone toward the Princes wishes especially the request to go fishing into Lenfald which turned into a mockery of the orders the Prince had commanded. Several examples of this were brought forward and the evidence soon appeared to be damming for Mark. Herald although putting up a valiant effort battled these odds and presented stories of Mark's heroics, his acts of charity and kindness towards others. However, Horatio rebuked these words with his closing arguments where he reported with keen interest Mark's words with a council and the dark tone he took upon the day he found out he may no longer be the heir to the throne, words that even Lord Stout remembered and argued in with. With these closing remarks Herald relied heavily on Mark's courage, but the words had already been stated. In front of his peers and so many present Mark seen his Uncles temper flare then quiet, then flare again until he turned cool and calm. As all the words had been stated he finally stood up and raised his hands for calmness in the room. He strolled down the steps towards Mark and whispered in his ear "Mark...did you try to kill me and my children?" .

With a quick response of sadness in his eyes Mark replied "No...never would I kill that which I love and I love my family more than anything in this world".

With that his Uncle extended a big grin, pulled his sword from its sheath and turned away from Mark.

"MARK OF FALWORTH! SON OF HOUSE LOREAN! FOR THE CRIMES AGAINST FAMILY! CRIMES AGAINST LOREOS! CRIMES AGAINST ALL YOU HAVE WRONGED! I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE!" Exclaimed Jarius as the room went silent as he hefted the sword high in the air.

"PRINCE OF LOREOS!" Stated Jarius as he dropped the flat of the blade on Mark's head and then gestured to his right then his left.

"BY THE RIGHTS OF OUR FOREFATHERS, THE RIGHTS OF ALL THAT IS NOBLE! YOU ARE INNOCENT OF THOSE CRIMES ACCUSSED AND CLAIMANT! THE ONLY CRIME YOU CAN HOLD IS THE RIGHT TO BE PRINCE!...now come give you Uncle a hug and get out of those chains" softly stated Jarius as he dropped the sword and raised his arms for a warm embrace.

As Mark was released he pressed forward and embraced his Uncle, then asked the question everyone was waiting to hear.

"Uncle, why this grand display?"

"My dear lad. Like all Princes you must go through a trial of fire before you can be Prince. You must be tested for all things true and Loreesi. Honour, family, love, kindness, forgiveness and leadership in crisis. Like myself and your ancestors we all go through these acts to make sure that the next generation will be able to lead and be true to our history. I know it may seem dark, but it could be worse. Your Great Grandfather was sentenced to a month of slave labour and rowing in the galleys before he became Prince. I was accused of my Brothers death and nearly hanged. It is in these moments of our greatest fear that we hold up our virtues my lad. Welcome to the title" warmly stated Jarius as he grasped Mark over the shoulder as he walked him to the throne.

"But...Uncle what about this assassination attempt I heard about. Was that a fabrication?" Inquired Mark as he moved up the stairs.

"No...but that is something we will talk about later, behind closed doors" whispered Jarius.

"ALL HAIL PRINCE MARK!" Replied the crowd as Mark sat down.

"HAIL TO THE NEW PRINCE OF LOREOS!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Uncle, where are we?" whispered Mark as he followed his Uncle down the dark corridors.

"Some place special nephew...someplace I have the urge to show you in these dark times" replied Jarius as he pressed forward and soon walked down some stairs into a flame light room that seemed more like a dank cave than the chiselled walls before.

"Welcome dear Nephew to the true realm" regaled Jarius as he raised his arms and spun in a small circle showing him the vaulted room.

"This really isn't much..." chucked Mark as he looked at the large room.

"Oh really..." replied Jarius as he gestured towards the stone wall where a man in dark robes was chained.

"Who is he?" questioned Mark.

"Why...he is the would be assassin Mark" grinned Jarius.

"Wait...would be assassin?" stated Mark with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes...he would have been my assassin and would have gotten away with it too if I were a lesser man than I am" harshly intoned Jarius as his grin turned to a frown.

"This man did attempt to slay me and my family Mark. However, he had no idea of what or who I truly have been all this time. However, it is my revelation to you and frankly he can hear it as well since his time on this world is coming very soon to short end. Mark...I am the true Grand Master of the Areani. The fellow you have believed to be the Grand Master...well...as much of a mystery he shall remain, he has been my useful tool in this war of shadows and a very trusted Lieutenant who sells the occasion four legged used creature to make a little profit. He has always been present like my right hand to help guide you and in some ways I have been present to protect you from the shadows like this fiend who have spent generations attempting to disrupt our people's society." revealed Jarius. Just then an Areani Guard showed up from the further gloom of the farther parts of the room.

"Hmm...but why Uncle, why the rouse?" remarked Mark as he mulled this new information over in an attempt to figure out who this friend and guiding hand is.

"They killed your father, and your mother Mark. They killed my father too." harshly replied Jarius as his mood grew darker while staring at the Assassin.

"Wait...you told me my father died during the battle of Devil's Pass and my mother died grief stricken" replied Mark as he retreated from his initial thoughts at these revelations.

"Mark...those were lies I forced myself to tell a young boy who had been through enough tragedy. The reality is your father didn't die on that day. In fact the real battle of Devil's Pass was actually a magnificent victory for Loreos. Your father rallied our men and led them to a glorious rout of the enemy. He was so victorious that his actions and the boasting of his abilities attracted the attention of the wrong people. It made them question his true beliefs and made them come to a conclusion he was in their words 'a threat to the realms or Roawia', because he was powerful, smart, agile and strong...much like you my lad. He achieved more in a short period for Loreos so much so he was even the envy of the King and the courts in the North. That is why they killed him. They did it in such a heinous way that few should have to recant it." Sneered Jarius as the hate in his eyes grew while staring at the chained and defeated assassin while taking a pause to grab his breath between his words.

"Mark...they butchered him on his way home to your beloved mother. Right in front of her eyes. In front of your younger brothers eyes...like lambs to the slaughter they butchered them. I was too late...too late for them all" frowned Jarius as he began to shed a single tear remembering the terrible scene the scene he had sheltered Mark from.

"Younger brother???" Stared Mark in shock.

"Yes...you have a younger brother..."stated Jarius with a brief pause. "He was born some years after you left the household for training. Now, back to your father and mother. What I do know is they killed your father in the court of your home. They ambushed him and the few guards that were with him. They made your mother watch and then killed her after. They made it look like she committed suicide. My father, your grandfather attempted to conceal this information and made it known word that your father died instead during the battle of Devil's Pass, he eventually issued the story your mother died in grief of a broken heart to conceal the murder until he could petition the crown for justice. When they like the High Lord in Lenfald denied such actions and refused Justice he marshalled his troops. The greatest host in the history of Loreos. So great it made the forces of the North seem like nothing. He marshalled them to the Sea and made it seem like we would invade the Royal Isle if justice was not brought forward for your slain father and mother. On the night before word was to be received from the King, assassins crept like silent cats into the camp of my father and killed him while he slept. Word would spread he died of a heart attack, even some stated it was a broken heart over his beloved sons demise...but he was slain in front of my eyes. I seen the murderous look in the fiends eyes while I hid in the shadows like a coward, unarmed and unable to move. To this day I still know the look of the fiend and the dark eyes...eyes of a Lenfel. For that I realized our folly. I sought out the ancient order of the Areani. I learned their ways, mastered them and when the trials were completed I eventually became the Grand Master or the Order. A shadow behind shadows. Then I began the quest to find the murder's. I eventually learned from the Areani that our enemies are called the Order of Shadows. They have been at war with the Areani for hundreds of years. Constantly playing a game of shadows behind the scenes of power. For example, although some say we killed the King, this is a lie. A grand deception. Although we relished his death for it meant our hour of retribution was at hand...well it also meant publically we were now marked. The Order of Shadows...they played a heavy hand and still they try to kill us Mark." jested Jarius

"Uncle. I must confess this is much to take in. Yet...from what I have seen...it feels like the first time you are being truthful to me in the entire history of our relationship, but through all of this I have one question...what happened to my brother?" Intoned Mark as he absorbed the information.

"Sadly my dear boy...you are probably right. It is one of the few moments you have seen or heard the truth from me. However, I must confess further, your brother lives. He was my greatest deception, he shares much of the same look as you and sometimes I think he is you...he lives a life different though. He helps others and unlike you became a doctor. He doesn't know he is of the House Lorean...but sometimes wonders why some call him Mark. Regardless, you will meet him someday" smiled Jarius

"I see..." said Mark as he digested this information.

"So...this fellow he is of the Order of Shadows?" pointed Mark.

"Indeed...although he has revealed little of his masters plans and has yet to break" sneered Jarius

"I see..." sniffed Mark as he looked the fellow over who didn't even flinch but remained calm with a frown from his previous abuse.

"What say you fiend?" questions Mark. "Will you tell me the truth. Was my Uncle's words a bag of lies?" sneered Mark.

"HAHAHAHA!" spat the Assassin at Mark. "You Loreesi are all alike. I will tell you nothing other than that your mother squealed like a harpy when she ran" snorted the Assassin as he played on Mark's emotions.

With that in a rage Mark grabbed a dagger from the nearby Guard and dropped it into the arm of the Assassin who didn't flinch.

"Hmmm...tough one" stated Mark as he pulled back.

"Indeed...he told me nothing as I stated." Remarked Jarius as he looked at his fingernails.

"He will tell me all in good time" darkly replied Mark as he pulled on the dagger and adjusted its position until the Assassin in sheer pain began to cringe. "In good time..."

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - Of Inquisitions and Intrigue...

Blindfolded and with bound hands, the prisoner had lost all sense of time and direction as he was led down a long spiral staircase. A heavy wooden door opened and he was led into a chamber. Flames were crackling and the smell of the fire filled the room.

More annoyed than angry he shouted into the room “Who are you? Where have you taken me? Do you even know who I am? I have friends in high places ...”.

A voice sounded from the other side of the room, “Indeed you have, Lord Strauss. And this very fact would be the reason you are here now. Rest assured, your family and your guards will not be harmed and will be released shortly. Your fate however will depend on your cooperation. Speak the truth and no harm will come to you. You have my word.”

“What worth is the word of a thief and abductor! Remove this blindfold and untie me, and I will be the judge of ..."



“Enough! Lord Strauss, please do not test our patience,” someone replied. He knew this voice, he heard it before, but without the proper context he could not place it. “This is an urgent matter, and the longer you resist the longer it will take. You were on your way home from a trial, or coronation, or ... let us say event. There was an attempt on the life of Prince Jarius of Loreos. And for some reason Mark of Falworth was suddenly proclaimed Prince himself.”

“That is all public knowledge, you do not need me here for this,” Lord Strauss answered.

“Very well then. What is not public knowledge is that the would-be assassin was captured and is held somewhere," another voice interjected. This time it was a woman's voice.

“How could you know this? Only a few people from the House of Lorean know about this matter...”

“We have our sources. What do you know about this assassin? About his motives..." the familiar voice continued.

“Nothing. Jarius and Mark only talk in private. All I know is that he was sent by the Order of the Shadows,” Lord Strauss replied finally, still angry about still not knowing who had taken him and what this whole inquiry was about.

A murmur went through the room. There must have been at least half a dozen people quietly talking amongst themselves.

“Thank you, Lord Strauss. You where very helpful - I think this matter can be laid to rest rather quickly. Lords, Ladies: Did any of you attempt to assassinate Prince Jarius? ...No matter how deserving of a sharp blade through the heart he may be.”

Silence.

“Good. So it is settled. More lies and propaganda from the mouth of a snake. We shall reconvene this council after I return from New Lenfald.”

A chair slid back over the rough stone, and someone on the far side of the room stood up to speak. “Balgrim. Balgrim, son of Chief Balgrim the elder.”

“What about him?”

“Chief Balgrim was with the Order before his death, and he groomed his hothead son to be his successor. Perhaps his son has done this thing.”

“That seems farfetched. Why would a young outlaw chief attempt to kill a Loreesi prince?”

“He would not. But he would surely attempt to kill one of the Areani.”

“But why go after the prince, a well guarded high profile target? No offence to your people, but in my experience Outlaws don’t take the difficult path if there’s an easier target.”

“No offence taken. After the war the Areani rounded up collaborators of the Queen, and apparently sometimes being in the wrong place at the wrong time is enough to die by an Areani blade. His family was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place.”

“But to go after the Prince, he must either have been there personally for the massacre, or... or Jarius is the leader of the Areani, and is responsible for it overall.”

“We currently have no way to know the truth, but it is an idea worth investigating further. Nevertheless, I think we can all agree that it is not our place to intervene here. If it is Balgrim, he has to face the consequences for his own actions. He could have brought his theories to the council, but we should not risk open war. Agreed?”

“Agreed” many voices replied.

“Now, I will set sail for New Lenfald within the hour. You are welcome to accompany me as far as Garheim if you wish.”

Their prisoner just stood there, silent, not knowing what to think or believe. Suddenly the familiar voice addressed him from a short distance, “Thank you for your cooperation Lord Strauss. You will be returned to your household immediately. You may relay what you have heard here to Mark of Falworth at your own risk, he is wise enough to draw his own conclusions. But if you value your life you better not tell anything of this meeting to Prince Jarius. Who knows what HE will do to you.”

Lord Strauss replied “I DO know you. You are Lord M...”

“No names, please. Farewell, Lord Strauss, and don't forget our warning....”

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - The Sea Serpent Trap!

“Sire! Sire!” urged Thecil the Herald as he ran into King Chartres’ court. The room had been peaceful and quiet, as the King sat signing papers, his attendants waiting patiently by, with Queen Emmaline arranging flowers nearby to brighten the otherwise-solemn throne room. The formerly pleasant atmosphere was now shattered by Thecil’s overly-panicky entrance.

The King sighed, “Slow down, take a breath Thecil and give me your report.” How he wished he could fire the flighty man, but he was a distant relative…

“Sire! The Loreesi fleet were attacked by a horrible sea serpent and they have returned to port!”

The King gazed at him steadily, still considering giving him the boot. “I am not interested in old sea-salt superstitions Thecil. What is your report?”

Thecil finally realized he had overplayed his role, collected himself, unfolded a parchment, and read as calmly as he could, “I report…that the Garheim fleet has had a shortage of stores and is delayed setting sail for at least three more weeks.”

“….Yes?” the King waited for the pertinent part.

Thecil checked to see how he was doing and continued, “Our spies in Lenfald report that the ships returning from New Lenfald all report good news, and that their colony, which they now call “Emerald City”, is doing very well…”

“….Yes yes, what about our dear Loreesi?”

Thecil continued, “What’s more, the Lenfels are building a formidable fort on their island to protect…”

“The serpent you dolt!!” Chartres lost all patience, “tell me about the sea serpent!” Even the Queen was a bit taken aback by the King’s sudden interjection, but she attributed it to all the stress he was under and came over him to lay a hand on his shoulder for comfort.

Thecil held out a now-shaking hand and blurted, “I…was getting to that sire!”

————————————————————————————

Aboard the Outlaw master galley The Stranglehold, Captain Timur Gromov stood watching the red-and-gold fleet from afar, confirming for himself what had just been reported to him. “The Loreesi are indeed becalmed. Their sails are now useless. A magnificent opportunity!” They had been following the fleet since the Loreesi had left port, careful not to give away their presence, waiting for such a moment.

Gromov turned to a lackey beside him and growled, “Get me Ivanovich! Let us see if he can do even half of what he claims to do….”

He turned back to watch the mighty sailing fleet, and waited...

—————

A few miles away on the horizon, Admiral Ignacio de Lezo, on board the Loreesi ship Golden Vanguard, looked concerned as much of the fleet disappeared into a sudden dense and murky fog. Although a fog could be expected in such doldrums as they were now in, he had never seen one come up so fast, especially one so thick. The Watch called to him from the foremast that they had lost sight of most of the fleet and could only see two other of their closest ships.

“This is most peculiar, don’t you think Pierre?” he turned to his flagship’s Captain, but before the officer could even respond the admiral watched in horror as he witnessed a terrible giant shape take form in the murk just off the port side. A massive dripping head with long fangs and a snake-like tongue arose out of the mist and lunged forward, snatching a poor seaman off the deck like a child’s toy. The man screamed in terror, and as they were becalmed the sound shattered the quiet air. The Watch called out in horror, “Sea Serpent to port!!” and men began jolting into action, but there was little they could do as the screaming man was swallowed right before them.

The ship suddenly rocked when the creature’s body smashed into the side of the ship, crushing timbers like straw, and the sailors were forced to grab the nearest stationary structure in order to keep to their feet. The Golden Vanguard was a magnificent ship however, sturdy and well-built in the best Loreesi craftsmanship, and she took the blow in her stride.

Admiral de Lezo drew his sword and charged forward while yelling orders to attack the dreadful beast. His men courageously manned a ballista, but before they could get a clean shot off the horrid monster smashed the weapon with the side of it’s great scaly head and snatched another seaman up in its mouth. This one however it did not swallow. The poor man was carried off screaming in terror into the murky air. Long dreadful seconds they heard him cry out, as the beast moved off into the fog but did not submerge, so that any ship nearby could hear him. Then suddenly, a terrible silence. 


The Vanguard stood still once more, all eyes desperately searching the fog for any sign of return. Men bravely took up weapons, grabbed hooks, or manned ballistas, and waited.

The Horror did return, this time at another ship off to starboard, likely to be the Wayward Warrior, a proud warship hailing from Dalmanutha. Admiral de Lezo and his crew were forced to listen helplessly as the sounds coming from the men of this ship clearly were suffering the same fate. He ordered the helmsman to come about, but with no significant wind available they would take ages to come to the Warrior's aid. Not long after the Warrior was attacked, a third ship's crew began crying out into the eerie fog, and panic in the fleet spread as ship-after-ship began to ring out cries of “Sea serpent!!”

—————

Aboard the Stranglehold, Captain Gromov nodded at the tall figure of Ivanovich, and grinned evilly, “Impressive work. In spite of my doubts, you have earned your fee.” He turned to his first mate, “They must be totally vulnerable now, lost in the fog, with only their ears to help them. We’ll use ours as well. All galleys forward! Row for the screams, and take whatever you desire from them!!”

The Vanguard stood still once more, all eyes desperately searching the fog for any sign of return. Men bravely took up weapons, grabbed hooks, or manned ballistas, and waited.

The Horror did return, this time at another ship off to starboard, likely to be the Wayward Warrior, a proud warship hailing from Dalmanutha. Admiral de Lezo and his crew were forced to listen helplessly as the sounds coming from the men of this ship clearly were suffering the same fate. He ordered the helmsman to come about, but with no significant wind available they would take ages to come to the Warrior's aid. Not long after the Warrior was attacked, a third ship's crew began crying out into the eerie fog, and panic in the fleet spread as ship-after-ship began to ring out cries of “Sea serpent!!”

—————

Aboard the Stranglehold, Captain Gromov nodded at the tall figure of Ivanovich, and grinned evilly, “Impressive work. In spite of my doubts, you have earned your fee.” He turned to his first mate, “They must be totally vulnerable now, lost in the fog, with only their ears to help them. We’ll use ours as well. All galleys forward! Row for the screams, and take whatever you desire from them!!”


“…and sire," Thecil continued his report, "Admiral de Lezo states that the fleet fell into confusion and were sitting ducks for these Outlaw galleys which appeared out of the fog. Every time the Loreesi started to rally for support, the serpent returned and scattered them. Three of the admiral's ships have not returned to port. The Loreesi are regrouping under de Lezo, but many of their sailors are now nervous about further voyages, especially in foul weather, sire.”

King Chartres stood in cold shock. These were dark times for Roawia indeed…

"This news aggrieves me greatly,” he stated quietly to his entire court. “With the current struggle within Loreesi's noble class, I fear this will only lead to more tragedy.” He turned back to Thecil, “Find my Garheim envoy and send him to me at once. Their fleet must know what could happen to them, and prepare for it accordingly."

---

GLOBAL CHALLENGE XII - An Enterprise of Exploration

In Loreos...

Prince Mark confidently strode through the great and majestic halls of the Royal Palace. Chartres had completely transformed the look and feel of the palace since the evil Queen had once occupied it. The ghastly blood red and sickly black dragon sigil banners plastering the walls and doorways had long been torn down and burned. Now banners of each of the realms hung brilliantly as the divine midday sunlight broke through the windows illuminating them.

Directly in tow Mark had almost his entire Council with him, who listened attentively to his responses and inquiries to their questions. However, his was not the only input served up, as Jarius Lorean walked in almost complete sequence with Mark, pitching his ideas and feelings into each matter as he saw fit. Mark was indeed the new leader of Loreos, but some power structures still remained in place.

Erathor Pridnar and Lord Stout were now speaking upon some military matters, which was one of, if not the main reason why Mark and his council had made their way to the Royal residence that day to rendezvous with King Chartres.

“...needless to say my Prince, we cannot leave this palace without the confirmation from Chartres himself that he’ll help us with this matter. The King’s support would mean a great deal to our forces.” said Lord Stout swiftly rounding a corner behind Mark.

“He’ll give us support, there’s no question about that, it’s more so about how much support he’ll give us.” Said Jarius casting his thoughts in.

“Well, put yourself in his position Uncle,” said Mark taking a step ahead of Jarius and turning to face him, “it’s not exactly the most believable report to come from any corner of Roawia.”

The men walked slowly and filled the hallways wall to wall with their presence. Servants and guards repeatedly quickened their pace if they found themselves in the convoy’s path, fearful they might call attention to themselves in some way.

“This whole matter seems a little...off, if I do say so my Prince.” said Mattius Xavier, hinting at something greater. Mark turned to his side and gave his Steward a look that asked for continuation.

“Well, it just seems to me like perfect timing for our friends to the north. A little too perfect. Our boats were loaded up with supplies, ready and able to reach the new lands, and there wasn’t even a cloud in the sky. Then all of a sudden, a giant fog cloud rolls in? I don’t proclaim to be a master sailor, but how often does a fog cloud like that suddenly appear out of, well, out of thin air and engulf a whole fleet in such darkness that everyone all but loses track of each other!” Xavier was getting quite excited in his speech and his voice began echoing off into the halls. He calmed himself and continued in a lower tone. “So, a fog so thick that Admiral Ignacio de Lezo, a master of navigation I remind you, swallows up the entire fleet leaving him blind and confused and then what? Oh of course, a giant sea serpent with ‘teeth longer than a man’s arm attacks the whole fleet only then for a group of Outlaws to swoop in for the raid. The survivors make it back to port but almost as soon as they land a rumor spreads like wildfire throughout Roawia, ‘A giant serpent is reaping the seas to the West!’ and nobody even thinks to stick one toe in the ocean again, not even the Garhims with their new fleet, except the Lenfels! Looks a bit too much like a set-up to me, Prince. We’ve been deceived by such tricks before unfortunately.” Xavier said, no doubtedly in reference to the usurper Queen.

Mark took in what he had just heard, and turned to Jarius, looking for some kind of input as well.

“He has a bit of a point, Mark.” said Jarius, hand on chin looking towards the floor as if the answers were sprawled out there. “A sea serpent ‘mysteriously rises out of the water’ and attacks our fleet but we’re left here assuming some rag-tag band of Outlaws were at fault. Which conveniently Takes our attention away from the Lenfels who make a run for the new lands and set-up shop like the waters are crystal clear...”

“And the stream of ships ferrying supplies to and from the Lenfel coast hasn’t stopped since.” said Xavier finishing Jarius’ sentence.

The file of men was now all but stopped dead in the halls. The proposition of such an idea was a dangerous notion. Could the Lenfels have constructed such a convenient trap for the Loreesi fleet as to leave the new lands all but theirs? Each man stood deep in thought about this surprising conclusion.

“The little information on this Outlaw band of marauders doesn’t help the case, but we cannot let these drastic conclusions run rampant in our minds. The Lenfels can be quite clever and mischievous, but if our assumptions are true, I doubt they were alone in planning this trap. They must’ve had help from someone familiar with magic and the beasts of old Roawia. I can only think of one such place where both could be found... ” said Mark trailing off.

“You don’t think they’d stoop to that level...the Lenfels must have some sense of morality…it seems impossible...do you think it’s really possible, Prince Mark?” asked Lord Stout hesitantly forming his sentence.

But before Mark could answer an echoing call bounced down the hall surprising all the men who now stood barricading the passage. “And here I was thinking we had an urgent matter on our hands that called for the King’s immediate attention and what do I find but everyone standing around!” shouted Chartres down to hall with a sarcastic smile. Mark lifted his head and instinctively smiled back at the new King who now approached the group. “Chartres! I mean, King Chartres!”, said Mark. Mark’s smile may have reassured everyone that things would soon sort themselves out but underneath of his grin Mark felt something about their current situation was indeed off.

Meanwhile in Garheim...

Each of the Jarl’s steps crunched and crackled as the sand and gravel shifted beneath his leather boots. He slowly perused the dry dock, looking at the woodwork and beautiful curved hulls before him. He looked up to see the many masts and cranes stretch high into the sky above him and caught the taste of the salty air in his mouth and nose as the wind carried forth a calm breeze. The new fleet was now completed and almost ready to set sail for the new lands to the west. The Jarl had come to the coastal towns to personally inspect many of the ships, but more importantly to show face and give moral support to all of the men and women who now waited hesitantly at the sea’s edge for their westernly journeys to begin.

There was but one problem. A gloom had fallen over the towns and the people themselves. Garheim was still recovering from their occupation and realizing all they had lost. Some of their best warriors, ship builders, sailors, navigators, and leaders had been lost due to the Queen’s hands. But more importantly they were brothers and sisters. Fathers and mothers. Friends and mentors. Colleagues and merchants. And the thought of potentially losing more of them to the seas and western lands was not sitting well with many, especially now that a sea serpent and band of Outlaw pirates had been rumored to be sailing to the west of Roawia killing and raiding any would-be explorers and colonists.

The Jarl walked slowly between the hulls of two massive ships. The sun was shining in such a way that his path was cast in shadow but his body was not. He spotted a few workers smiling at him and nodded affirmatively noting their presence.

He too was cautious because he had received correspondence with his ambassadors recently in Loreos who had stated feverishly that they were indeed not just rumors. Prince Mark and Jarius, along with all of the most important leaders of the military and state had picked up and left to visit Chartres at his palace on the Royal Isle. At least that’s what they were told.

Meanwhile the Lenfels had been making headway in the west, establishing colonies and forts that could rival those on the mainland. Their ships weighed down heavily with every trip back. They didn’t seemed very concerned about this ‘sea serpent’ to the Jarl.

And the Outlaws had seemed unusually quiet lately. Not too much had been seen or heard from their newly elected king, especially this far north.

A single cloud brushed by the low afternoon sun, shading everyone. A strong breeze blew through the dock and the hulls of the new ships creaked and groaned like living beasts.

In the distance the Jarl saw the waves of a grey sea crashing onto a stony beach. He didn’t know what was out there amongst the waves, and feared for his people's’ safety and their well being. But he also knew that to sit idle was to let Garheim fall into darkness once again.

One of his advisors came up to him, his head bowed towards the ground, “My Lord, the citizens have gathered to hear you speak just outside one of the warehouses. The sun will begin to set soon.” The Jarl simply nodded and the advisor walked away.

The sun was beginning to color the ocean reds and pinks as it fell deeper in the horizon. But the waves carried on, crashing upon themselves over and over again.

Deep in Outlaw Territory...

“More wine son! Don’t be shy, we are celebrating after all!”


It seemed Baron Locklear possessed not the capability for an ‘inside voice’. He was already on his second glass and feeling its effects, although the former northerner showed no outward signs. “The new lands will be ours for the taking soon enough!” Locklear turned to face the visiting councilman Captain Ramsey, who currently held the Baron’s ear in all things New Roawia. “Oh cheer up Ramsey, the our new ally Ivanovich and his pet are just what we needed to turn the tides in our favor.” He guffawed at his obvious pun, and Captain Ramsey humored him a strained smile.

“While I agree with my lord Baron, I feel I must remind you that Lenfald is still colonizing the isles unopposed. As we capture ships, they capture the unknown wealth of the islands,” He sipped from his wine to allow the point to take hold. “I wish to submit my proposal to you once again, we must al---”

“Enough!” Locklear interrupted. His face suddenly cold and commanding. “I am mulling over your plan. Your ability to make the most out of any situation is why you are here enjoying my best vintage and the luxury of my summer home. But do not overstep yourself.” It was the Barons turn to pause for effect. Locklear’s face turned once again to a grin and he barked a hearty--if not heartful--laugh. “Come! Join my family in the garden.”

He led him to the garden with a hand around his shoulders like old friends. Out of the side of his mouth he spoke in a hushed tone to the veteran pirate, “Ill tell you what Ramsey, convince my wife of this plan and we shall talk...”

And lastly in Lenfald....

On the exterior, things is Lenfald could not get any better. Impressive ports were already being established in the new lands to the West, and a constant stream of ships flowed into Lenfald with every deck and hold filled to the brim with loads of minerals, crops, lumber, and many other resources. The citizens were flourishing with their newly acquired wealth as well. Happiness could not be avoided in the streets.

But despite all the joy and assets now at their disposal, High Lord Albrecht von Falkenborg could only focus on the problems facing Lenfald. The war with the Queen had left many men and women dead and injured and the ripple effects could still be felt making their way through society. Hospitals were packed even tighter than the new merchant ships coming from the West. Medical personnel were at an all time high in demand. Many residents feared contracting new illness found in the Great Western Isles and many still fought wounds and infections inflicted by the evil queen.

The Lenfel navy was in desperate need of new warships as well to defend their shipping routes from would-be marauders and pirates. There were now rumours making surface that a group of Outlaws possessed a great sea beast too, capable of sinking entire fleets in quick time and Lenfel merchants were hesitant to return to open waters without guard. Falkenborg was cautious of believing such tales, but even he knew new warships would be no match for something that elusive and deadly. Some of the Council members were more concerned about the matter though, and had been repeatedly calling on Falkenborg to gather the Council. Falkenborg was not delighted at the idea of calling everyone together to discuss old sailors’ tales, but then again, old sailors’ tales are what helped discover the new lands to the west.

The sun sat low in the sky as Falkenborg hurried through the halls of the meeting house, and the meeting was quickly called to session.

Each member who had a word to speak, spoke. Some members presented ideas about the resolution to the increasing need for healers that was plaguing the hospitals. Some spoke of ways to better equip the Lenfel navy against pirates. And some spoke of resource allocation and the building of defensive forts in the new lands. But, most spoke furiously about the rumors of a sea beast.

“What if it’s real!”, exclaimed one member.
“My citizens refuse to set sail for fear they be swallowed up!”, said another.
“Why has that fool Chartres not addressed the matter?!” asked one member. Heads were shook in agreeance with this comment the most.

Falkenborg found most of these concerns repetitive and also quite irritating coming from the most prestigious men and women Lenfald had to offer. “Are we no better than to indulge in senseless tavern rumors?” he thought.

Falkenborg had decreed that despite these rumors the flow of ships to and from the new lands should not be hindered. A slowdown in the construction of their colonies meant a slowdown for all of Lenfald and that was a move that could not be afforded while they were ahead.

Finally the last member had spoken and the hall became silent once more. Glances were thrown across the room to see if anyone else wished to speak before Falkenborg called the meeting to close. He was nearly ready to stand-up and speak until one member slowly rose from his seat and began paning the chamber with one beady eye. Lord Sorley Meyrick made eye contact with Falkenborg briefly and then began to speak.

“Tonight, I think we can agree we’ve heard a great many rumors about this supposed ‘Sea Monster’ that threatens our ventures into the west. And they are quite nasty and vile rumors. But what I don’t think we’ve heard this evening, are any viable solutions to our problem.” He spoke with a slight grimace on his face. “A whole lot of fevered emotions and reactions are all that’s been heard here, and it’s quite, pitiful, to say the least.”

Meyrick paused, looking at his fellow Council members who glared at him with disgust.
“The problem here lies not in the beast itself, but the idea of it, and the fear it produces. Fear is a very powerful tool, one the Outlaws use field frequently. We don’t even know if such a beast exists! These rumors could be completely fabricated. Spread simply to stunt our exploration. And if it does exist, how are we to hunt something we know nothing about, other than what we’ve heard of in taverns? Well I suggest we don’t hunt it at all.”

The council took such an arrangement as laughable. But Falkenborg was furious. “So he suggests we put our heads in the dirt then, and ignore such a beast?” he thought.

Meyrick continued, “We don’t need to hunt the beast or build anymore warships in a feverous manner if we don’t have to, and the one way we can avoid all this mess,” Meyrick paused in his speech, for what he was about to say could cost him his life. “The only way this mess can be avoided... is to forge a working relationship with this new ‘King’ of the Outlaws, Baron Locklear.”

The Council was in a state of disbelief at what they had just heard, but Meyrick continued speaking with a more rapid hiss now.

“He has the ships! He has the respect of a great number of Outlaws! And most importantly, he’ll likely be able to help us defend and protect from not only other pirates, but the Loreesi and the King’s forces if need be! And as for this ‘beast’, if it truly does exist, he’ll likely be able to protect our forces from that too. We cannot overlook the fact that he has been able to do what many others have tried and failed to do, and that is to quench the lawlessness of the Outlaws and form together one coherent looking army. He grows in numbers every day, and soon he’ll be a force that cannot be avoided! We cannot let a force that may eventually rival that of the Queen’s sneak right under our noses, and put us into a death grip once again! We need his support as much as he needs ours. This is a situation both parties benefit from, and it is a plan that puts Chartres and the Loreesi at a complete disadvantage! We must consider a pact! If we do not, then the efforts in New Lenfald will be in vain once they make the Western Seas untravelable.”

Falkenborg sat with his head hung low. Many of the council members looked to him for guidance. Finally he lifted his head and met eyes with Meyrick. Night had already fallen, and the chamber was dark except for the flickering glow of torches all around the room. The flames were reflected in Falkenborg’s eyes and the light of the torches behind him only illuminated the sides of his worn face making him look almost entirely encased in shadow. He looked deep into both of Meyrick’s eyes. “Heresy.” he said in a soft but well heard voice. “This, this is heresy.”

And with these words, the High Lord of Lenfald shut down all discussion of such an incendiary idea. “This nation will not be once more be thrown into a pool of darkness, let alone by this council!” Falkenborg shouted.

...But within the minds of some present, Meyrick’s idea was not so outlandish....

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - Mapping the New World (Part One)

Since the discovery of New Lenfald by Abner of Darrenspur and the subsequent settlement and colonisation of Port Emerald, it had become apparent to Lenfel explorers that New Lenfald was only one of many islands in a vast archipelago that was becoming known as the Great Western Isles.

Notes, maps and sketches of the new world made by these explorers were slowly making their way back to Stonewald where High Lord Albrecht Von Falkenborg recognised them as an invaluable resource. With Lenfald’s independence from Roawia still young and uncertain, rumours of Outlaw ships already in the new world and with both Loreos and Garheim feverishly preparing their own voyages of discovery and colonisation, Von Falkenborg recognised this information had power. If Lenfald could collate all the fragments of information into one comprehensive map, and keep that map from the other factions, they would maintain their advantage in the New World, which at the moment was feeding the economy and ensuring a strong, united Lenfald faced any potential challenges from the crown of Roawia.

To coordinate this effort, Von Falkenborg had appointed his one-time rival for the High Lordship of Lenfald, Lord Orin Wenslav, also known as “The Keeper”. Lord Wenslav was easily the best man for the task. As well as a well renowned scholar, he was also a master cartographer, indeed his map of Roawia had become the definitive map used by the crown itself! Lord Wenslav had eagerly accepted the task and had gathered a small but dedicated group of skilled cartographers, scribes and scholars. Together they worked tirelessly in a fortified manor just north of Stonewald, collating as much information from as many sources as they could find. Whilst Lenfel explorers had concentrated their exploration efforts on the island of New Lenfald, it was found that enough information was available to piece together a detailed map of the entire archipelago.

Word had recently reached Von Falkenborg that a draft map was ready for his inspection. So together with Grand Duke Cartney of Durrough and Grand Duke Meyrick of Ainesford, both of whom had happened to be in Stonewald at the time, he had arranged a visit to view the completed map.


The Map Room by Ayrlego

“This is fantastic Lord Wenslav” commented Von Falkenborg. “I had no idea there were so many isles…. My word, I count ten of substantial size”
“Yes my Lord, multiple sources have confirmed the existence of ten large isles, of which Lenfald has settled the most easterly, the one here with what appears to be a large caldera forming the bay in which Port Emerald is situated.” Replied Wenslav, pointing to New Lenfald on the map.
“I must commend you on your most excellent work Lord Wenslav, I knew that there was only one man for this task, and you most certainly have not disappointed.”
“It has been my pleasure my Lord, I have two copies of this map at the moment, this one and another I have secured in a different location. With your approval I shall have my cartographers begin to make similar copies. Can you arrange safe dispatch for a copy for Duke Wynholm in Port Emerald?”
“Yes, I shall do so at once” replied Von Falkenborg.
The Lords all continued to stare at the map in silence for some time. What vast wonders could these lands possibly contain?

Unfortunately for the Lords of Lenfald however, the existence and location of the map would not remain a secret for much longer……

---

GLOBAL STORYLINE UPDATE - Mapping the New World (Part Two)

The moonlight cast its pale light into the map room, showing it deserted save for the forgotten goblets of celebratory spirits on the table. A cloud drifted across the sky, blocking the light in the chamber. Within a breath the cloud had passed, and the moon's light shone once again within the tower's interior. Except now a ominous hooded figure stood by the window.



The man known as The Phantom slowly strode to the table, admired the craftsmanship of the map, and casually placed the parchment in the folds of his cloak. With the same casual disdain he leaped from the window, holding onto a grappled chain, and landed expertly on the ground. Within another breath he vanished amidst the shadows. The Phantom, the newly appointment spymaster of the Outlaws, had heard of the existence of the map of the new isles even before Von Falkenborg - courtesy of his extended network of spies. He had decided act accordingly when presented with such news, and procure the map. He usually outsourced such a simple act of thievery, but he did not trust his underlings with such a potentially profitable artefact. Besides, it is always a good to practice old skills.

With the map in his possession, The Phantom sent out missives to representatives of the other factions. Over the next few days he travelled Roawia himself, hand delivering copies of the map to particularly wealthy members of Loroes and Garheim. Ever the loyal vassal, The Phantom only charged Baron Locklear half for the diagram!


“Jarl, Lumen is waiting with the information.” A Mikithdar guard announced to Jarl Eindrik, “Shall I show him into the room?”

“Yes, do.” The Jarl said in his commanding voice, “And call my advisors.” He ordered as the guard bowed before turning to leave.

Jhirian Eindrik rubbed his face. He avoided complaining of his near-fatal wound by offering it for those who died fighting Galainir’s men. He then prepped himself for the meeting about to take place; a meeting that was sure to have an immense effect on the future of his beloved Garheim.

The Jarl entered into the sunlit room where the meeting was to take place. As he expected, there was a large table in the center with rolled up piece of paper on it. He walked to the end nearest the paper and the chatter slowed. When all eyes were fixed on him he began to unroll the paper. He and a few others in the room had seen this before; it was a map of the new archipelago, handsomely paid for. As he was opening the paper everyone in the room shuffled to get as close to the Jarl for a good viewing angle. After a few moments of looking the map over, Jarl Eindrik asked Lumen, who was directly to his left, “I’ve been told you now have the information I requested. Which ones are claimed?”

Lumen spoke, “Lenfald has claimed the NE island and is now expanding to also include the NW island.” The Jarl drew his bushy eyebrows together slightly. “Why on earth not that one?” Asked the Jarl, pointing to the island closest to New Lenfald.

“I have no idea why, possibly they knew the outlaws were planning a settlement there and wanted to avoid trouble. And finally, I have reason to believe that Loreos is preparing a fleet to set sail to this group of islands.” He said as he reached out a pointed to a close group of islands near where he was standing.

The Jarl stood in silence for a while before saying, “King Chartress has said nothing of these islands limiting us, so we will claim one.

A necessary debate followed in order to choose the best investment of a Garheim settlement. All viewpoints were considered. After everyone voiced their opinions, the votes were as follows: 8 of those present wished to colonize the island NW of Loreos’s, 2 wanted to colonize the island west of the Outlaws, and one wanted to drive the Outlaws from their island. It was decided that the Garheim colony would be founded upon the island NW of Loreos’s, the logical one with the most votes. There is already a fleet waiting in the harbor of Jahrton Bay. The first colonizers are set to leave in two days time.

The fleet is being captained by Alvis Angul and his first mate Galaeron Crabanise. Another onboard of note is Magnus Erlingson. Together, they have enough knowledge, sea-daring, skill in governance, and courage to voyage to a virtually unknown island and begin a new colony.


Alvis Anguls mind jumps back to the pounding feet of a messenger running as fast as he could nearly crashing into Alvis as he was finalizing preparations for the expedition. "The Jarl has made his decision Captain, here are your orders!" Gasping for breath as he handed over the parchment. Alvis looked over the orders and sent Galaeron his first mate to fetch Magnus Erlingson. "Its time" he said.

That seemed only a moment ago to Angul as he now stands on the Beach of the NW Isle that is to become the next great settlement of Garheim. He hears the sound of sea birds, the creaking of the fleet as they bob in the natural bay. He can also hear the crashing of the waves on the beach as he marvels at this momentous occasion marked not with pomp and circumstance but with stone and fire. Constructed with materials carried over from the quarries of Garheim. This marker will be the site that begins the next great chapter.

"This is it men!" he roared "You are now a part of history! Remember this moment! Let it be a sparkling gem in your treasure of memories." A unified cheer rang out as every Gahrhim howled for the glory of their new found land!

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CONTINUED IN NEXT POST