Battle of Breaking Iron
The words in Old Realm had little meaning, and to the uninitiated it sounded like a halting child's school rhyme twisted into nonsense through repitition. Subtle flares of glowing essence snaked out of his mouth and twisted scurried down the speaker's arms, wrapping around his fingers for a moment before scurrying into the corners of the room and disappearing. The ritual completed, Amilar Vondy clasped his hands before himself and took his seat at the long table. In a gruff, breathy voice, he said, "We may speak freely now."
"Thank you." Yushoto Albia folded her gnarled hands before her and inhaled sharply. "I hope I don't need to remind you that information shared in this meeting is classified. The General Staff will be given a summary of our findings, but for the moment we first need to build a coherent picture of what actually happened. I would like to thank Karal Linwei for the superb reconnaisance work the First Field Force has provided us and Amilar Vondy for the information his gens has managed to filter out regarding the activities of the cult. Finally, Yushoto Tarkim has reports from a few of my directorates agents in the field as well."
In the caves beneath the old city of Lookshy, four children of the dragons bowed their heads respectfully to one another. No sound rose from the elegantly jade paneled walls, no echoes and no rasp of a passing breeze. No sounds left the small room, carved in the living granite, to whisper past ancient vaults and silent sentinels.
Yushoto Albia, director of Intelligence for the city of Lookshy, looked at her guests carefully for a moment. Her long, thinning hair, the bright orange of crisp leaves in the fall, was tied in a sever bun high on the back of her head, seeming to stretch tight the graying spruce green skin of her forehead. She pursed her lips and said, "Now, let us begin. What exactly happened at this little skirmish in the hills, and what does this have to do with the Mask of Winters?