Llyria’s Pest Control

[Ioannis 1478]

 

 

 

The dazzling banners of Aegrothond, Urguan, Haelun’or, and Fenn flurried and intermingled in the frosty, yet relatively warm, square of Tahu’Lareh. Additional envoys from Lorraine, Kaedrin, and the Hou-Zi were also present, though their role was merely as observers. Soldiers and diplomats from the respective nations spoke freely amongst each other- sharing stories and jesting in good spirit. However, the prevailing topic of the hour was the diplomatic conference that was soon to be had, one that would unite the four nations in their collective endeavour against Llyria. After several minutes of idle chatter, horns blared from the Citadel, signaling to all that the meeting was to commence. The respective entourages ventured to the conference hall within the Citadel, each taking a seat at the long table before them.

 

Grand Prince Aelthos, sitting at the head of the table, initiated the talks. “So, Llyria,” he began, looking to Sohaer Dimaethor Visaj, seated just across for him. “It seems they’ve made the decision to tempt fate once again,” he continued, glancing at both Sea Prince Feanor Sylvaeri and King Utak Ireheart, both seated to the left of the Sohaer. “We all have our grievances with them, but it seems in their vainglory Llyria has brought war upon themselves. With their recent breaking of the treaty we made with them, our alliance is left with little other option than to pursue military action.” Those in attendance murmured in agreement.

 

“They aren’t just tempting fate- they’re tempting all of us,” snickered Crown Prince Vytrek, helping himself to a sip of the wine before him. “Poor them, I suppose. I quite liked the city until the Empyrion lost a chunk of his brain.”

 

“I do not know how you could bear to stand that city,” the Sohaer sneered, shaking his head in evident disagreement. “It is a place riddled with dark mages, demon-spawn, and the lesser life forms we are all obligated to rid this world of.” 

 

The table fell quiet, for most there were in agreement. However, the matter of how the war would be conducted still remained.

 

“Just charge in and DESTROY THEM!” cheered the young prince, Aldred.

 

“I believe naval supremacy will be paramount to winning this war. Llyria is a port city- if we cut their supplies then we ought to be able to starve them into submission,” argued the Sea Prince. To further illustrate his point, he procured a map of the Llyrian area, pointing to its harbour, then tracing a line to his own city at Aegrothond. “Look at how short of a distance that is. We would be able to effectively support a besieging army via sea without worrying about the hassle of a long voyage,” he concluded, looking to the Grand Prince for affirmation of his plan.

 

The Grand Prince remained quiet, studying the map intently. He rubbed his beard, before pulling a worn charcoal pencil from his pocket. Marking an ‘x’ at the tunnel leading into Llyria, Aelthos began to speak.

 

“I agree with the Sylvaeri’s suggestion, though I would like to take it a step further.” Aelthos pointed at his ‘x’, glancing up to King Utak. “Have your dwarves block this pass here. I want nothing in and nothing out. In the meantime, the Ivae’fenn and Sillumiran will besiege the city itself. Have we any disagreements here?”

 

King Utak, who had seated himself in a small basin of water in the center of the table, shook his head. “T'ere will b' teh loot, aye?” he inquired, his eyes growing wide with the thought of plunder. He then splashed some water on his face, washing out some of the grime.

 

Silir Uradir, Okarir’san of Haelun’or, snorted. “Sounds like a typical dwarven concern,” he chortled, furrowing his eyes at Utak’s bathing. “However, there is another matter. I revel at the opportunity to strike down the Llyrian corruptions, but what of the normal citizens there? Plenty of innocents reside in that wretched city. Would we be just to treat them the same?”

 

“I say we allow those who wish to leave the city pass through our siege lines. I suspect that the dark mages will wish to defend their home, for it is the only place that openly harbors them. That said, what of those that abandon their city anyway and masquerade as a normal person?” said the Sea Prince, biting his lower lip. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat upon noticing Utek’s bathing, but held his tongue regardless.

 

“Then we will hunt them down again and again, as is our duty,” affirmed the Haelun’orian Okarir’san, flashing Feanor a cocksure grin. “Besides, I don’t think any of us have seen them put up a half-decent fight before.”

 

Dimaethor Visaj laughed clearly and heartily, though more sinister undertones were evident. Then rising from his seat, the aged Sohaer addressed those at the table.

 

“Fortune has it that we are all on the same side this time around. We shall make quick business of this petty enemy. Now, the hour is getting late, and we all have armies to ready for war. I shall depart for today, but I will return with an army beside me- ready to join you.” With that, the Haelun’orian retinue said their goodbyes and left.

 

Soon after, the other envoys followed suit, each saying a few words in farewell before leaving the hall. After a few moments, only the Grand Prince and his two sons remained. Vytrek was the first to rise, walking over to the map left behind by Sea Prince Feanor. 

 

“It’s a viable plan,” the Crown Prince noted, studying the battle plans that had been marked down.

 

“That it is. No doubt the Llyrian state will crumble at our might, but how many losses will we suffer? Hundreds?” Aelthos responded, joining his son in examining the plans.

 

Vytrek took a longing glance outside of the window behind him, looking to the training Ivae’fenn below him. Recruits sparred, officers shouted orders, and standard-bearers stood stalwartly with the colors of Fenn in-hand. War was soon to come to all of them once again.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe ten?”

 

WARCLAIM

 

Attackers

Princedom of Fenn & Allies

Defenders

Llyria & Allies

 

Wargoals:

The Llyrian city pillaged.

 

Location & Proposed Time

Add me on Discord to discuss this further Ioannis#9788

 

Spoiler

 

His Eminence, Sea Prince Fëanor Sylvaeri, Lord Heir of the House Sylvaeri, Forge Master of Sylvaen’s Hammer, Lord Protector of the Isles of Almenor

 

HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Aelthos of the Tundrak Bloodline, third of his name, Grand Prince of the Princedom of Fenn and Mali’Fenn, Patriarch of the Tundrak Bloodline, Protector of the Idhren’tirn, Hesin’fin, Commander of the Citadel of Acael, Protector of Tahu’lareh, the chosen of Wyrvun

 

 

SOHAER Dimaethor Visaj

 

Grand Marshal Aesilnoth of the Annungilben Bloodline, Drakon Valkyr of Fenn, High Justiciar of Tahu’lareh

 

OKARIR'SAN Silir Uradir

 

Arevthor of the Tatvhir Bloodline,  Patriarch of the Tathvirs, Grand Chancellor of Fenn

 

MAHERAL Iaria Elevarthar

 

 

Edited August 9, 2019 by Ioannis

[Ixli 1471]

Silir Uradir nods with a sudden gratification, a joyous form of anger piercing his cerulean gaze.

[GodmodeGolem 146]

https://youtu.be/mm1zAd3I1BM

 

[Nectorist 7543]

“My plan is still the best,” insists Prince Aldred, playing with his toy soldiers

[Seuss 491]

The innocent Goan Aldin reads from the comfort of his bar. “I just want to make drinks.”

[Orinoken 52]

*Huntek starts clapping his hands together in a rythym humming some tribal songs dancing on the snow*  “Mi brothas wah a time fi be alive”

[D3F4LT 626]

Sounds loike an epic win

[Punkinator919 116]

6 minutes ago, Ioannis said:

“However, there is another matter. I revel at the opportunity to strike down the Llyrian corruptions, but what of the normal citizens there? Plenty of innocents reside in that wretched city. Would we be just to treat them the same?”

“I say we allow those who wish to leave the city pass through our siege lines.”

 

Datura nods approvingly at this sentiment; hoping others will also read this.

 

7 minutes ago, Ioannis said:

“I don’t know. Maybe ten?”

 

Datura’s skygod can not help but snicker. 

[ronin_champloo 5951]

Eli has the following reaction.

[Gustando 1471]

 

[Wand 935]

The elf held his palm over the long suffered mark of Agony's doing, which marred his left bicep.

 

Legions of demons, undead at beck and call... seen with his own eyes years ago, and it their numbers had only increased.

 

He hoped the information provided would be enough to begin to root out the Dark: that none may suffer the wicked malflame again. In lacking of such, his mind was filled with the plans of a holy armoury. Such was his Oath, his heritage, his purpose.

 

The call would be put forth after his signature.

 

"I shall make the rounds, and be certain we are prepared for the fight ahead. To combat the truly wicked and the dark - and speak of the Darkness which still lies before us."

[Dragonslayerelf 653]

Shakul’Gorkil grumbles as he contemplates rallying for the war on the Dwarves’ side anyway before realizing that’d mean fighting along elves, grumbling as he shook his head and grumbled, now contemplating rallying for war on the Llyrian’s side before then re-contemplating that position and instead choosing to contemplate rallying as a 3rd party altogether.

 

Melbil Frostbeard looks foward to the fight, his injured status not letting him be put down as he rested in the barracks of the Frostbeard clan, his injuries sustained at the hands of Llyrian dark magic.

[Kanadensare 456]

Dirty Goon clears his throat from behind the EVIL and UNJUST red-tag prison he finds himself in. “Ez.” He offers sagely.

[Abyssus 487]

[Beordan 213]

Somewhere, someone ponders the news of an official plan of attack regarding Llyria. "No better time to start smuggling."