Abandon
Adjacent to the Great Hall of your palatial home stands your War Room. Designated as the central meeting place of your generals and other advisors, it is a medium sized hall, adorned only with a broad fireplace, a large table, and a dozen or so chairs. It is here that the first plans of the current campaign had their birth, and where you now need to discuss final details of the attack to come.
As you pass the door guards, who bow their heads at your approach, and push your way into the War Room, you see that your previous command to Madred has been fulfilled. All about the table are seated your generals, their trusted sub-commanders, and your two most trusted advisors, Werrindas the Wizard, and Glory-Matron Mahlia Nyresh, high priestess of Valdyr, the god of glory and fortune.
They all stand as you enter, averting their eyes until you’ve taken your seat. Returning to their respective chairs, they wait silently for your word.
You take a few moments to consider and then speak, in a soft but grave voice, “The day is at hand, my friends. The day that the bloodshed begins. None of us know for sure...”, nodding toward your advisors, you continue, “...how this war will transpire. We have planned and schemed for months and prepared for every foreseeable hindrance, yet there are always things that cannot be foreseen.”
You pause for a moment, removing the uncomfortable crown from your head and placing it upon the table, “I tell you, now. The ultimate success of our domination of Mrincas depends greatly upon the events of the next few days. The destruction of Jurget will bring many to fealty, but will also enhearten our enemies. Thus, our handling of this siege is of utmost importance. Consider this as we march for Jurget in a few hours.”
You fall silent and give a casual gesture to invite the others to speak.
First, Madred, your primary general, stands and presents a brief reiteration of the overall battle plan and emphasizes the importance of each commander playing out their respective part in proper time and unity.
Secondly, Glory-Matron Mahlia stands and reports on the status of the templars, holy warriors, devoted to the defense of Valdyr’s children, as well as on the Sisters Mendicant, her own order, nuns who specialize in divine healing and other mystic arts. She closes with a short prayer to the Glory-Lord for the protection of the army.
Next, another of your major generals, an older warrior named Hadnar, spoke on the readiness of the soldiers themselves, and on the high level of moral and dedication that has been instilled in them over the last several months. He notes, as well, that the men are more than eager to reap the spoils of battle. Hadnar is a charismatic commander and is in charge of the recruitment, training, and moral of the army. He is also quite long-winded, and as he rambles on about some kind of elite unit, you find your mind, and eyes, wandering. Your gaze is drawn to the high priestess, Mahlia. Even for an older woman, probably of at least forty years, she is enchantingly lovely. Her brown and gold habit is satin, tailored to fit her form and she has a very nice form, indeed. She is tall, more so than most of the men present, yet is graceful and lithe. Her bosom is not huge, but larger than that of most Nario women. Her waist is always confined by a tight corset, giving a lovely contrast to her wide hips and plump thighs. A native of the western land of Narion, she has dark brown skin and glimmering golden hazel eyes. You’ve never seen her without her habit veil, so you don’t know how her hair looks, but the majority of Nario females knot their curly black hair into long tangle-locks or shave their heads smooth.
You watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, her sizable globes obviously struggling against their satin restraint. You raise your eyes to her face, slowly relishing the foreign beauty of her plump, pouting lips and her broad nose. As you are lost in a rather blasphemous fantasy about the Glory-Matron, Hadnar ends his words with a crude but complex joke and all present alight with laughter.
You are roused from your daydream by the raucous, but still can’t look away from Mahlia for a moment, captivated by the jiggling of her tightly bound breasts and the musical ring of her laugh.
Finally, the ancient wizard and famed astrologer, Werrindas of Loebriel, speaks. Said to be the half-blood child of a man and a faery, he has lived for centuries and has been an advisor to dozens of kings. After he had a vision regarding the future of Valantia, he came to your court and pledged his service and fealty.
A truly eccentric character, the old wizard spent most of his time in a stout, crumbling tower, a few miles outside of town, mapping the stars and searching his dreams and visions for glimpses of the past and future. Despite his odd ways, however, Werrindas has proven to be an invaluable asset, not only due to his prophetic abilities and immeasurable wisdom, but also because of his knowledge of alchemy, sciences of nature, history, and the technical aspects of war.
His long established reputation as a powerful spell caster and wise advisor, has only served to aid you, politically, in the past few years.
The wizard speaks on his most recent revelations from both the motion of the stars, and his magical visions. He explains that he has learned many details of the upcoming battle, and had foreseen the success of the attack, but also says that the accuracy of any such prophetic knowledge is only as good as the fidelity of all players involved, in the performance of their proscribed duties. He goes on further about this than anyone else can follow, and eventually he just falls silent, mid sentence and sits, removing his tall leather hat and rubbing his scalp as if he has forgotten something important.
Now all sit silent, most a bit confused by the wizard’s presentation. Realizing that the meeting is done, you replace your crown upon your head and rise. Drawing your cavalry sword from its sheath, you point it to the ceiling and proclaim,
“In this hour, on the fifth day of Summer, in the year 768, we go to war. We all know our duty. We all know our objective. Let it be so.”
All of your generals, and both your advisors echo the last line and bow their heads to you, keeping their eyes on the floor until your blade is retuned to its sheath.
As the rest slowly file out the doorway, Madred approaches with a grim expression on his face. Just as he reaches you, he smiles like a fool and says, “Belam, old boy, I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”
Clasping you’re hand and embracing you, he says, “Good bye for now, brother. I’ll see you at Jurget.”
You reply, “At Jurget.”, and he leaves you alone with your thoughts.
(If you have not yet visited both the Stables and the Armory, you still need to attend to business in those locations next, before proceeding to the Temple and the Town Square.
However, if you’ve already been to the Armory and the Stables, then you should now pay homage in the Temple of Valdyr, and then go to the Town Square, to address your subjects.
Where do you go next?)
As you pass the door guards, who bow their heads at your approach, and push your way into the War Room, you see that your previous command to Madred has been fulfilled. All about the table are seated your generals, their trusted sub-commanders, and your two most trusted advisors, Werrindas the Wizard, and Glory-Matron Mahlia Nyresh, high priestess of Valdyr, the god of glory and fortune.
They all stand as you enter, averting their eyes until you’ve taken your seat. Returning to their respective chairs, they wait silently for your word.
You take a few moments to consider and then speak, in a soft but grave voice, “The day is at hand, my friends. The day that the bloodshed begins. None of us know for sure...”, nodding toward your advisors, you continue, “...how this war will transpire. We have planned and schemed for months and prepared for every foreseeable hindrance, yet there are always things that cannot be foreseen.”
You pause for a moment, removing the uncomfortable crown from your head and placing it upon the table, “I tell you, now. The ultimate success of our domination of Mrincas depends greatly upon the events of the next few days. The destruction of Jurget will bring many to fealty, but will also enhearten our enemies. Thus, our handling of this siege is of utmost importance. Consider this as we march for Jurget in a few hours.”
You fall silent and give a casual gesture to invite the others to speak.
First, Madred, your primary general, stands and presents a brief reiteration of the overall battle plan and emphasizes the importance of each commander playing out their respective part in proper time and unity.
Secondly, Glory-Matron Mahlia stands and reports on the status of the templars, holy warriors, devoted to the defense of Valdyr’s children, as well as on the Sisters Mendicant, her own order, nuns who specialize in divine healing and other mystic arts. She closes with a short prayer to the Glory-Lord for the protection of the army.
Next, another of your major generals, an older warrior named Hadnar, spoke on the readiness of the soldiers themselves, and on the high level of moral and dedication that has been instilled in them over the last several months. He notes, as well, that the men are more than eager to reap the spoils of battle. Hadnar is a charismatic commander and is in charge of the recruitment, training, and moral of the army. He is also quite long-winded, and as he rambles on about some kind of elite unit, you find your mind, and eyes, wandering. Your gaze is drawn to the high priestess, Mahlia. Even for an older woman, probably of at least forty years, she is enchantingly lovely. Her brown and gold habit is satin, tailored to fit her form and she has a very nice form, indeed. She is tall, more so than most of the men present, yet is graceful and lithe. Her bosom is not huge, but larger than that of most Nario women. Her waist is always confined by a tight corset, giving a lovely contrast to her wide hips and plump thighs. A native of the western land of Narion, she has dark brown skin and glimmering golden hazel eyes. You’ve never seen her without her habit veil, so you don’t know how her hair looks, but the majority of Nario females knot their curly black hair into long tangle-locks or shave their heads smooth.
You watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, her sizable globes obviously struggling against their satin restraint. You raise your eyes to her face, slowly relishing the foreign beauty of her plump, pouting lips and her broad nose. As you are lost in a rather blasphemous fantasy about the Glory-Matron, Hadnar ends his words with a crude but complex joke and all present alight with laughter.
You are roused from your daydream by the raucous, but still can’t look away from Mahlia for a moment, captivated by the jiggling of her tightly bound breasts and the musical ring of her laugh.
Finally, the ancient wizard and famed astrologer, Werrindas of Loebriel, speaks. Said to be the half-blood child of a man and a faery, he has lived for centuries and has been an advisor to dozens of kings. After he had a vision regarding the future of Valantia, he came to your court and pledged his service and fealty.
A truly eccentric character, the old wizard spent most of his time in a stout, crumbling tower, a few miles outside of town, mapping the stars and searching his dreams and visions for glimpses of the past and future. Despite his odd ways, however, Werrindas has proven to be an invaluable asset, not only due to his prophetic abilities and immeasurable wisdom, but also because of his knowledge of alchemy, sciences of nature, history, and the technical aspects of war.
His long established reputation as a powerful spell caster and wise advisor, has only served to aid you, politically, in the past few years.
The wizard speaks on his most recent revelations from both the motion of the stars, and his magical visions. He explains that he has learned many details of the upcoming battle, and had foreseen the success of the attack, but also says that the accuracy of any such prophetic knowledge is only as good as the fidelity of all players involved, in the performance of their proscribed duties. He goes on further about this than anyone else can follow, and eventually he just falls silent, mid sentence and sits, removing his tall leather hat and rubbing his scalp as if he has forgotten something important.
Now all sit silent, most a bit confused by the wizard’s presentation. Realizing that the meeting is done, you replace your crown upon your head and rise. Drawing your cavalry sword from its sheath, you point it to the ceiling and proclaim,
“In this hour, on the fifth day of Summer, in the year 768, we go to war. We all know our duty. We all know our objective. Let it be so.”
All of your generals, and both your advisors echo the last line and bow their heads to you, keeping their eyes on the floor until your blade is retuned to its sheath.
As the rest slowly file out the doorway, Madred approaches with a grim expression on his face. Just as he reaches you, he smiles like a fool and says, “Belam, old boy, I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”
Clasping you’re hand and embracing you, he says, “Good bye for now, brother. I’ll see you at Jurget.”
You reply, “At Jurget.”, and he leaves you alone with your thoughts.
(If you have not yet visited both the Stables and the Armory, you still need to attend to business in those locations next, before proceeding to the Temple and the Town Square.
However, if you’ve already been to the Armory and the Stables, then you should now pay homage in the Temple of Valdyr, and then go to the Town Square, to address your subjects.
Where do you go next?)