Qwixalted/Sunrise of the River Kingdoms

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Dramatis Personae

(TBA)

Prologue

The Sunrise Prince has just suffered a military defeat at the hands of an Outcaste Dragon-Blooded king, Johr Seftarian -- although unrivalled on the battlefield, Mithric was unable to match the Earth Aspect king's stratagems, and he has been forced to retreat to his inner keep.

The Seftarian rulers are old rivals and enemies of the kings of Aelysia. The Seftarians have generally had the ascendency in the local region, having a touch of the Dragons in their bloodline; as a result, approximately every generation or so, they produces a Dragon-Blooded, who then rises to the kingship (usually over the corpses of his or her more ambitious cousins).

The current Seftarian king, Johr, has ruled Seftaria for the last hundred years or so. He is an old man, by Dragon-Blooded standards, his Second Breath having come late in life, but he is still vital and active, cunning and intelligence, and he is all the more dangerous and ruthless for his experience. Under his rule, Seftaria has grown to swallow several minor neighboring kingdoms, and bully a number of others into vassalhood.

Aelysia was the strongest kingdom in the region to oppose him -- Mithric's predecessor established a strong alliance of other concerned kingdoms to hold Seftaria in check. This alliance survived Mithric's predessor's death, but was shattered when the young ruler took the Second Breath as a Sun-Chosen -- suddenly, Aelysia found itself alone as cultural wariness and Immaculate propaganda played their role in isolating the Anathema.

Johr is not a man who has risen to where he is by missing such opportunities.

Using Immaculate propaganda as a pre-text to form a casus belli, he declared war, framing the conflict as a "liberation" of the people of Aelysia from the oppression of the demonic Anathema. Assembling a mighty host of his personal army and his allies, he invaded.

Alone, the army of Aelysia was outnumbered by twenty to one. But still the Sunrise Prince might have triumphed, were it not for two factors.

First, let it be admitted, Johr Seftarian is a better general than the younger, less experienced Sunrise Prince is (at least, for now...): where a fool may have used his greater strength without subtlety, Johr has not wasted finesse, and has not merely outpowered Mithric, but outwitted and outflanked him.

Secondly, the Seftarian forces were reinforced by a number of Realm Dynasts. Although the Realm could not send any forces to help the Seftarians directly -- at least, not without risking war with Lookshy -- a number of "volunteers" have bolstered the Seftarian ranks, providing not only greater quantity, but also a qualitative edge that no army in the Hundred Kingdoms yet possesses.

Thus, the Sunrise Prince was overwhelmed: his army defended a bridge over one of the great tributaries that eventually lead into the Yellow River, the main gateway into his kingdom. The fighting was tough and bloody, the Sunrise Prince accounting for himself a hundredfold, but eventually he was exhausted and his army smashed, brushed aside, routed. The Sunrise Prince has been forced to retreat to his citadel as the Seftarian forces sweep into his lands, already proclaiming victory as they begin to build the siege engines that will overwhelm the citadel's walls.

The times are desperate. Defeat would spell the destruction of Aelysia and death for the Sunrise Prince, but fleeing is unthinkable.

The one, ironic, source of solace is the news that matters could have been worse: Lookshy's stance towards the conflict remains neutral, hostile to the Realm's involvement with the Seftarians. As such, their soldiers have remained at home and their warmachines in storage. Had the Seftarians been given access to those, they would have made short work of the citadel walls indeed...

Chapter 1

(Part A): Enemy at the Gates

The defeated troops filed through the drawbridge, bloodied, heads bowed in shame: the last of the outriders, light horsemen, hooves clopping unevenly across the wooden drawbridge. Maybe a dozen horsemen left out of a proud colmun of a hundred.

Standing in his citadel's tallest observation tower, Mithric surveyed his foe's troops, determined gaze staring into the distance as he watched the Seftarian army start to establish siegeworks in heavy artillery range. The cries of foremen leading sappers and engineers mixed with the hammering of mallets on wood and other sounds of an industry aimed at one sole purpose: to overthrow the walls that defended the last of free Aelysia.

He contemplated the reverse he had just suffered gloomily. He barely had enough of an army to hold his walls now, and he faced a horde the size of which hadn't been seen in the River Kingdoms since the last war against the Realm. His citadel had been well-built, in an oxbow that made the rushing river a natural moat on three sides of the castle; a canal had been dug in front of the fourth side, and the wall was thickest here. When the time came to storm the walls, if that time came, the main attack would surely fall here...

Turning to his council, the young Solar knew they needed options. They needed time. They needed troops. They needed supplies. They would need luck. They would need everything...

"Well, my friends..." said Mithric, opening the discussion. "What now?"

Posted by Chronicler


The Sunrise Prince sighed in near-resignation as he surveyed the vast Seftarian forces arrayed against him. The sheer number of troops preparing to lay siege against his last stronghold was a disheartening sight to behold. But he steadfastly held onto his courage. The Unconquered Sun had seen fit to grant him the gift of Exaltation, and he was ready to defend his kingdom with every ounce of power that he now had. I will make Johr pay dearly for every inch of ground that he dares to take, he vowed grimly.

The resolute Aelysian prince straightened up from where he had been leaning against the rough-hewn granite of a reinforced battlement. Resting a gloved hand atop the jeweled pommel of his orichalcum warblade, he turned to meet the hard-eyed stares of his advisors. "Our enemies are beginning to assemble their siege engines. Once their construction is complete, it will only be a matter of time before our walls fall to their onslaught." He glanced up at the sky's waning light. "I'm guessing that we will have at least one last night of respite before they strike. Make your peace and prepare yourselves. Come morning I shall lead our remaining soldiers in one final direct assault."

The fierce intensity of his determination was matched only by the incandescent brilliance of the sun-burst symbol on his forehead. "It is only fitting that I, the Sunrise Prince, make my defiant stand at dawn's first light," he announced fervently.

Posted by Aprogressivist


The Chatelain, Umber Resot, keeper of the Citadel, overcame the fear and pain in his heart at his liege's words; the Dawn Solar's leadership uplifting even in the face of certain death. He clapped his hand on his chest, gauntlet clanging against the breastplate. "I will gladly follow you, my liege, as will the remaining soldiers and guards. We will give them something to write about in the scrolls of history!"

He sighed gently; an old man, his beard flecked with grey, he suffered from a limp in his right leg, from a battle wound earned during previous skirmishes with the Seftarians. He had earned his title through decades of loyal servitude to the Prince's predecessors; and where a Chatelain may normally look forward to enjoying quiet years of peace and gentle semi-retirement away from the front lines, Resot instead faced death, the failure of his charge and the overthrow of his liege. No quiet years for he. "I only wish I were thirty years younger, my Lord, that my sword-arm would not tire quickly."

Posted by Tywyll


Swordsinger watched the advisers to sense their reaction. He had pledged his sword and skills to the man called Sunrise Prince, both because it was right and because of the revenge it might bring him. Many soldiers lay dead from his hand, but none were those who he'd personally sworn vengeance upon. Inside he seethed at the injustice that they lived and laughed outside these walls, secure in the knowledge of their victory.

The army outside waited, a bloated and hungry thing. The Sunrise Prince spoke truthfully; short of a reprieve from the Unconquered Sun himself, this castle would fall on the marrow.

But sometimes, you make your own miracles.

"Sunrise Prince," he said with a nod, his voice quiet, "I would speak with you about a tactic for the battle to come." He eyed the advisers wearily. "In private, if you please?"

Posted by Chronicler


Prince Mithric smiled and laid a reassuring hand on the Chatelain's armored shoulder. "Have faith, loyal Umber. The Unconquered Sun is with us. Now gather the others and have them convene in the dining hall in an hour's time." Raising his voice for all to hear, he declared, "Tonight we shall feast!" In a lower-pitched tone intended for Umber's ears only, he added, "Double the guards along the walls. I would not put it past Johr to attempt some foul treachery under the cover of darkness." With that said, he dismissed the old man with a curt nod.

As his war council solemnly filed down the stairs, Mithric gestured to Swordsinger to follow him as he too descended below. With sure steps long familiar with the citadel's layout, he quickly led his fellow exalt to a private study. It was a spartan window-less chamber containing a desk, two chairs, and a bookcase, all crafted from imported high-quality Marukan mahogany. The workmanship was simple but sturdy, the epitome of practicality.

The blue-eyed prince waved to Swordsinger to take a seat while he shut the room's iron-bound door behind them. Moving to the map-covered desk, he absently tidied up the scrawled parchments into a neat pile before occupying a chair himself. He studied his ally momentarily, silently grateful that the Twilight was on his side. Clearing his throat, he prodded, "So, what is it that you wish to speak to me about? We will not be disturbed here."

Posted by Tywyll


Swordsinger watched the door shut with a feeling of finality. This would not be an easy sell, he knew. It was dangerous both for himself, and for this adopted land he had now found.

Taking a seat, Swordsinger laid his hand upon the table. It's simplicity and craft reminded him of another, in the study of another figure he had regarded with affection and respect. That table was gone now; burned by zealots and fools. Swordsinger fought down the anger inside him. It would only distract him from what he had to do now.

"Prince Mithric, I will not belabor the point or dawdle on uselessly, but instead strike to the heart of the matter." His green eyes met the prince's blue ones, holding their gaze with a fervent intensity. "We both know that the castle and, with it, your dream will fall tomorrow. Might of arms will accomplish a valiant and glorious end for us both, but in the end, Johr will succeed. He cannot help but do so at this point."

Swordsinger watched the prince, looking for any sign of disagreement.

"As you know, I am not simply a warrior, but am also trained in the art of Sorcery. I have held back from using my powers too much, as I know it terrifies those untrained and unfamiliar with the powers I can wield. I would not have your army turn against you out of fear and ignorance of myself."

He sighed. It was obvious that this was a familiar burden.

"But the time for subtlety is at an end. I can use my powers to aid you. I can call down terrible vengeance upon the army outside. I will not mince words; I can boil the blood of the common soldiers, or send a deadly plague among them. When I am finished, Johr's army will be gravely diminished by my efforts and the others may well break when they see the ruin I have called down upon family and kin. The most effective weapon I possess is to call up the forces of Hell itself and send them amongst our enemies. They may destroy the army before we lose another man."

"This is, of course, not without danger. If I unleash this power upon them, those that survive, and even those of your own men, will call you an Anathema lover. We may survive now, only to draw greater enemies to us tomorrow. It is your name and glory at stake Prince Mithric; I care little for what they say of me. The choice is yours to make."

He watch the prince, looking for his reaction.

(Part B): Riders on the Hill

Word had reached the riders of the Aelysian army's defeat earlier that morning, after they had come ashore from the ferry across the Yellow River. They could only hope it wasn't too late and that the Sunrise Prince hadn't yet been slain: contradicting rumours flew like a disturbed hornet's nest on the subject, flying in the wake of gossip and hearsay, all the more enflamed by frightened refugees.

But the wise heads amongst them had decided that only one course of action was reasonably open: to ride to the Sunrise Prince's citadel and see for themselves. If Mithric was dead, well, at least they would know so for themselves. If he lived, he would have retreated there to be besieged; he would be all the more in dire need of their aid.

Thus they crested the summit of a hill that oversaw the Sunrise Prince's Citadel, and saw for themselves the massive army stretched out across the plain, crawling like colourful ants across the once-green and fertile plain, facing off the citadel's walls. It seemed they were perhaps too late. Then again, perhaps not... surely the citadel would have surrendered had Mithric been slain. He must still be alive...

Posted by Daiklave


Swinging down from his mount, Copper Jaguar gazed upon at the assembled forces of Lord Johr Seftarian.

Momentarily, the Zenith’s view was superseded by a fleeting recollection of another war, a war against the architects of Creation themselves. Furtive, staccato images played themselves across his field of vision – legions of loyal Terrestrial Exalted clad in jade arrayed in battle formation against the coming onslaught by the warriors of the Primordials and their daevas. His memory-self glanced at his truest companion, Arundel, whose moonsilver armor flowed and reshaped itself with mercurial grace as he adopted his war form. A feral grin stretched across the Lunar’s lupine face…

Copper Jaguar shook himself free of these memories, mindful of how they contrasted sharply with the present situation. This was no grand conflict. There was no noble cause for which these assembled men would shed their blood. They would fight and die for a lie, deceived by the Immaculate Faith and by an old man fearing the loss of his power.

The Seftarian king had united many in the Hundred Kingdoms under his banner, many lords who feared above all other things the might of the Anathema. For the Lord Mithric had proved himself to be one of the Forsaken, and many had heard tales of the devastation wrought by the Bull of the North.

For months, Copper Jaguar had travelled South in search of those whom he had once called brothers. Perhaps he had finally found one…

A furtive movement caught his attention, a subtle swaying of branch and limb which Copper Jaguar knew to be unnatural. Arclight blazed red and gold in the dying light as he unsheathed its ancient orichalcum blade. His caste mark glimmered as the Exalt ascended into the canopy with a balance and sureness of foot that well bespoke of an lifetime spent among the forests of Ardeleth.

‘A scout, perhaps? Or a sentry?’ he wondered to himself.

Experience told him otherwise. This person wanted to be found.


Posted by Mercurial


Copper Jaguar landed lightly on a branch just below the arboreal watcher. The young man who gazed down at him was indeed neither sentry nor scout. His clothing was too haphazard--patchwork black leathers and a long, violet scarf--his armament too unorthodox. Even in the dying light, a quick glance of the exalt's keen eyes revealed more knives than he could count secreted on the young man's person.

For a moment, neither man spoke. The younger one's eyes moved from the blade gripped in Copper Jaguar's hand to the faint castemark on the zenith's forehead and back again, and then slowly, he smiled and nodded. It was almost as though he'd expected this chance meeting.

"You're looking for the Sunrise Prince," he said quietly. It wasn't a question. "I am too. My name is Little Ghost Wing."

Posted by Daiklave


Copper Jaguar’s eyes narrowed as he gazed upon Little Ghost Wing – a stranger, yet despite the situation, he found himself inexplicably warming to the younger man’s presence. His eclectic style of dress notwithstanding, the cut of his clothing and accent identified him as a native of Nexus.

“You are far from home, Nexian,” Copper Jaguar rumbled. “And while I doubt not that we meet here regarding a mutual interest, I fear we may not share a common purpose.” A grim smile touched his lips as he continued. “This would…disturb me. Declare yourself – Do you stand with Mithric or Johr in the coming strife?”

A lesser man would have quailed under the Ardelethian’s stern gaze and the veiled threat that lay beneath it. But Little Ghost Wing had been raised to adulthood in the mean streets of Nexus and feared no man, neither lord nor villain. His smile twisted into a smirk as he replied to the Zenith’s query.

“Rest assured, my sympathies lay towards the Lord Mithric. Were it not so, there would be little need for the army arrayed below. Mithric would simply be discovered in his bed one morning with his throat slit.” His smile faded as he continued, his eyes gone cold and hard as paired moonsilver knives appeared in his hands as if by magic. “But worry not, we share common cause – the succor of the good Lord Mithric.” Upon the Nexian’s brow appeared the glyph of the Night Caste, glowing softly with a white and purple radiance. “For as you can see, we three are brothers.”

Copper Jaguar’s smile widened into one of genuine pleasure as he reached out to clasp the younger man’s forearm in friendship. The Nexian had impressed him with his courage, for fear was the mark of prey, not the predator. “Welcome, brother, and well met!” The Zenith threw back his head as laughter shook his frame. “I am Copper Jaguar, former brigand of Ardeleth and chosen priest of the Unconquered Sun. It was he who bade me travel south to these Hundred Kingdoms in search of my brethren - blessed be his name!”

“Indeed,” replied Little Ghost Wing, his smile returning in light of the Ardelethian’s obvious pleasure. “Now, we only need find a way to deal with this army which complicates our visit with the Lord Mithric.” He turned to face Copper Jaguar. “Would you like the thousand on the left or the thousand on the right?”

(United)

(TBA)