Monkee

"Lo - look upon these once proud Mali, and see how throughout this realm alone, they have now groveled before Savoy, Krugmar, and Oren - subjects to foreign nations. This is the cost of anti-Malinism. This is the cost of fragmentation. It breeds weakness, and weakness breeds desperation. A pity," remarks High Prince Vytrek, silvery visage tiredly trailing along the missive upon his return home.

High Prince Vytrek lowers his spear for the first time in years, scrawling his signature upon the treaty with a short, thin stick of charcoal. It was a victory to make Malin proud. He hoped the peace would last.

The Battle of Karimir Mountain "They always act tough when on the up, nay?" - Hugo van Aert Resplendent rays pierced the dense forests of the Hinterlands, casting long shadows upon the ground as the sun slipped above the eastern horizon. Dawn had arrived, and even through the viridescent foliage, steel in a thousand points. Beneath those ancient trees, the war camp of Malin'or stirred. Snow Elves of Fenn, High Elves of Celia'nor, Dark Elves of Nor'asath, Wood Elves of Amaethea, and the mixed human and elf mercenaries of the Blackvale Company, Ferrymen, and Silver Lubba. Already was their armor fastened, as the final stragglers rushed to join their formations. The blast of Elven horns signaled their subsequent advance; and so in short order, they departed. At their helm rode 500 cavalry, mostly of Malin'or and Blackvale, and led by Princess Ivarielle of Celia'nor, Bigsby Higgs of Blackvale, and the Valkyr Varlor Sylric of Fenn. No less than 8,000 infantry followed closely behind, marching beneath the turquoise banners of their Malinorian domain. As they arrived at their expected battlefield, upon the steep slopes of a coastal mountain, they quickly divided their forces. The cavalry ascended the mountainside, arriving at its crest whilst the infantry formations marched through the tunnel. Emerging upon the other side, they found the plains before them abandoned by all but unfortunate Horde stragglers. Before the Malinorian and mercenary formations, they were swiftly put to the sword; there was no sign of the bulk of the Horde. The arrival of a rider descending from the summit spurred the army's attention; to shouts of "Atop the mountain! Atop the mountain!" the Malinorians quickly reorganized. Upon the mountain's crest, their cavalry had met the bulk of the Horde - 500 against nearly 8,000. Arrows snapped and whistled down the forested slope as the Horde ascended, weathering the arrowfire of mounted Malinorian archers. Gradually, the cavalry pulled back; theirs was a delaying action. With the time they bought, the infantry had split. The Blackvale Company and Ferrymen formed ranks at the bottom of the hill, led by High Prince Vytrek and Vyllaenen of Malin'or and Captain Mihaly of Blackvale, while the Malinorians marched back through the tunnel with Captain Hugo van Aert at their helm. They would not have to wait long. Shortly, arrows streaked through the humid air, impacting Blackvale and Ferrymen shields. Forming together in a dense formation, the mercenaries not only stood their ground against the Horde as they appeared at the summit; counter to all convention, they began a steady advance up the steep slopes. Crossbowmen ducked behind their brothers' shields, sending bolts back up at their Orcish foes. As they ascended, the Horde took the bait; gradually, they moved down the mountainside, until at last both sides clashed upon the slope. Despite the weight of both gravity and the Horde's numerical advantage, the mercenaries held fast, digging their heels into the earth to hold their formation. As the minutes passed, both formations broke; rather then retreat, the men of Blackvale and the Ferrymen surged forth into the Horde, hacking away. Despite their bravery, they were drastically outnumbered. They would not hold much longer. But they would not have to. With the blaring of an Elven horn, Captain Hugo can Aert then emerged upon the summit. As his steed reared, he pointed his steel down the slope, and bid his detachment forth with a ferocious shout. The Malinorian Elves, light upon their feet, had ascended the steep, forested slope behind the Horde in stunning time. With no time to form up, they swept over the summit and down the mountainside, crashing into the Horde's rear. It was a slaughter. Caught between the Malinorians and mercenaries, the Orcs, Men, and Elves of the Horde and their allies fell swiftly and in great numbers. Swords, falchions, spears, and glaives hacked through their armor; whilst their screams rose above the din of battle, their blood bathed the slopes in crimson mud. The deafening din of battle died down in what seemed like seconds; it was over. 8,500 Malinorians had met 7,900 of the Horde in battle. By its end, the Malinorians had lost 800 of their own, which were pulled from the battlefield with great care. The corpses of nearly all 7,900 Orcs, Haelunorians, Norlanders, Hyptosians, Khelites, Daelanders, and their mercenaries were left to rot.

The Mali-Orenian Pact Signed 20th of Amber’s Cold, Year 80 SA The Kingdom of Oren and the High Princedom of Malin’or recognize each other’s Realms as independent lands ruled by their respective monarchs, and will make no attempt to subvert those authorities governing them. The Signatories will adhere to a pact of non-aggression, and will not incite conflict between them. Neither signatory will provide military or economic aid to powers hostile to the other. The Signatories will allow free passage for civilians and refugees through their respective territories, under the law of both nations. This treaty will remain in effect for Fifteen years. It may be renewed by mutual consent of both Signatories. In the case where either signatory is found by the other to be in violation of this treaty, all articles will remain in effect, while the signatories search for diplomatic resolutions. Signed, Vytrek Tundrak, High Prince of Malin’or and of the Elves GOD WITH US, HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Frederick I, King of Oren, forever August, King of Renatus, Curon, Kaedrin, Salvus, and Seventis, Grand Duke of Ves, Duke of Vienne, Helena, Novellen, Sunholdt, Furnestock, Petra, Oltremont, South Arentania, and Lorraine, Count of Mardon, Stassion Castle, Baron of Renzfeld, Protector of the Heartlanders and Farfolk, etcetera

The Slaughter at San'Velku "Damn the gates - push forward!" - Vyllaenen Drums echoed through the morning mists of the Hinterlands, calling forth soldiers from their tents. In a rush, they grabbed their weapons and armor, strapping the plates of steel to their forms even as they assembled into ranks. For too long had the Horde offered taunts from atop their parapets, shielded from the men and women of Malin'or. If they would not emerge, then the Elves would occupy the rest of their lands. In neat order, the assembled forces began their northern march. The Elven soldiers of Malin'or were joined by their elite mercenary allies from Blackvale and the Ferrymen; the resulting army was a veritable terror to all it would cross. Through forest and plain they advanced, coming soon upon the jungles of Krugmar. There, the column broke apart, spreading through the foliage to take up positions and hold the road. Skirmishers were sent forward under the command of Vyllaenen, Princess Ivarielle, and Andronikos Mareno. They were not to be left unchallenged. Lo - at the same time, the Horde rallied their warriors to San'Velku. Orcs of Krugmar, Hyptosians, Haelun'orians, Norlanders, and a myriad of mercenaries assembled beneath their golden banner. Opening their gates, they surged forth to confront the invading Elven army. Their forces were evenly matched; that day, each army comprised roughly 4,400 soldiers. For the umpteenth time, arrows snapped and whizzed through the humid jungle air outside San'Velku. Growing impatient from Elven accuracy, the Horde charged to confront their assailers with all the cries of war. Steel crashed, muffling the screams and groans of the wounded and dying. Bit by bit, the Malinorian skirmishers gave ground against the Horde, suffering losses as the fight traveled further down the road. In short order, the trap was sprung; the main force of Malinorians, Blackvale, and Ferrymen sprung forth from the dense jungle. Led by High Prince Vytrek Tundrak and Captain Mihaly of Blackvale, they cleaved their way through the Orcish column, forcing hundreds of their foes from the road - only to cut them off and cut them down. A great many drowned in the nearby swamp during their attempted flee. The Malinorians pursued the Horde all the way back to the bridge at San'Velku. While High Prince Vytrek ordered for them to halt, fearing defenses upon the bridge and the severing of their army by the gates of San'Velku, a Mali'ker lieutenant by the name of Vyllaenen called for a charge. Momentum carried the Elves forth at their foes' heels, and at Vyllaenen's direction, they stormed the gates of San'Velku before the Horde could manage to close them. The Orcish city descended into chaos. All throughout the square, both armies traded blows; the battle devolved into a general melee. Bit by bit, the Horde was cut down; by the time the crash of steel gave way to the groans of the wounded, the entire army of Orcs, Hyptosians, Norlanders, Haelun'orians, and their mercenaries had been slaughtered - their bodies stacked high in their own square. While all 4,400 of the Horde had fallen, only 400 Malinorians had lost their lives in the fighting; it was a decisive victory, even despite the Orcish defenses. Triumphant, the Malinorians returned home with captives to execute.

A Challenge Accepted “You do not understand. The west is not yours to conquer.” - High Prince Vytrek Tundrak A chilled breeze rolls through Malin’or. It carries upon it the blaring horns of war. Beneath the white spires of Celia’nor, an army gathers. High Elven soldiers of the Celia’diraar tend to their siege engines, adjusting cranks as wood and steel snap into place. Snow Elven soldiers, clad in blue and purple, adjust the leather fastenings to their heavy armor. Dark Elven Silan’siol spar in the fighting pits; their triumphant cries rise above the cacophonous din of the city. Wood Elven soldiers of Amaethea sharpen their spears beneath the shade of western trees. Further, Men and Elves of the Ferrymen and Blackvale Company play cards, gambling away into the starry night. It was an army assembled for but two purposes - to restore pride to Malin’s name, and drive the Urukim away from the Hinterlands forevermore. No longer would they raid, plunder, and demand tribute; no more would they scheme to shatter Elven unity. Already, the sons and daughters of Malin had seen triumph in their conflict. With less than 500 of their own lost to the bitter fighting, Elven steel had buried over 10,400 of their Horde enemies. All between the Hinterlands and Krugmar, forests and jungles alike had been watered with the blood of Malin’s foes. The fighting there bred a new generation of hardened Elven soldiers. In those final days, they prepared to march west. Just as centuries ago, Malin’or had died in blood, so too would it be reborn in blood. Wargoal: Conquest of Tile 43 Attackers: The High Princedom of Malin’or and Allies Defenders: The Iron Uzg and Allies Date: Saturday, June 18 at 4pm EST Warpath:

The Western Intervention Treaty 13th of the First Seed, Year 80 SA I.) The Kingdom of Elysium agrees to cede the lands north of Idol’s Garden to the High Princedom of Malin’or, where it shall be under the stewardship of the Principality of Celia’nor. II.) Upon the completion of the war between the High Princedom of Malin’or and the Horde, the High Princedom of Malin’or shall cede those lands back to the Kingdom of Elysium if found feasible. III.) If the return of these lands is not feasible, the High Princedom of Malin’or shall provide the Kingdom of Elysium with financial compensation. IV.) The lands in question shall never be used by the High Princedom of Malin’or in war against the Kingdom of Elysium. V.) The High Princedom of Malin’or agrees to ten years of non-aggression with the Kingdom of Elysium. Signed, Vytrek Tundrak, High Prince of Malin’or and of the Elves Ivarielle Ibarellan, Princess of Celia’nor and the Silver Princedom, Arch-Mage of the Pale Tower, Commander of the Celiadiraar and of the High Elves Her Majesty, Queen Leika de Astrea Wildflower of Elysium, Duchess of Ardrossan, Princess of Abrhami, La Renarde of Uhier

THOSE WHO COWER The ink had not even dried upon their newfound contract with Malin'or, when the Ferrymen-Malin'or warband packed their saddlebags and rode west. There was fame to be had and fortune to be made upon their new toll roads. Bearing steel, they thundered down the western roads; as they went drums beat and horns sounded as the victims of their contract began to rally. Orcs from Krugmar, oiled Hyptosians, Norlanders, Haelun'orians, and rebel Mali'ker began to gather in numbers, making for the Orcish city. All along the road to Krugmar their stragglers were halted - pulled from their steeds, stripped of their weapons, and put to the blade. Despite this blooding along the roads, a great many made it to Krugmar, where they gathered under the banners of the Horde. Outnumbering the Ferrymen and Elves 3:2, they began to loose arrows from their towers upon the teal-clad vanguard, commanded by none other than Captain Banjo. As arrows snapped and whizzed through the humid jungle air, the main body of Ferrymen and Elves sat further back upon the road, lying in wait. And wait they did, for the Horde in its entirety struggled against those skirmishers alone. Soon, though, they would tire of this duel and the cost it extracted. Under the booming of drums and horns, they surged down the road, prompting Captain Banjo to pull his skirmishers back. They fought a running battle until they reached their main force, which promptly leapt out from behind the trees. With blood-curdling screams, they charged into the fray, hewing through Orc, Man, and Elf alike. The Horde faltered, retreating back upon the road. They countercharged outside of their gates, forcing the Ferrymen back through a tunnel, before a shrill battle-cry from Leonidas restored the mercenaries' momentum, and carried them forth. Passing through the outer gates of Krugmar, they fought their way across the bridge, leaving behind a trail of bodies in their wake. It was then that the Horde sprung their trap! The gate's outer bridges crashed down, and the Ferrymen and Elves found themselves stuck upon the bridge. With the quick thinking of Andronikos, they formed a shield wall, expertly guarding against the myriad of projectiles that flew across the bridge and from the Orcish battlements. Step by step, they inched forward, until they were but a breath away from their foes. The wall opened, and they surged forth. Steel met flesh in a bloodied frenzy as the Horde was forced back into their city with heavy losses. Several sallies were made, but all ended in naught but dead Orcs. In short order, the city's gates closed; the Horde had given up the fight. Laden with booty and the weight of their victory, the Ferrymen-Malin'or warband returned home with all the spoils of war.

Lo - the High Prince rests beneath a tree in Malin'or, sat cross-legged. Upon being handed the missive, he allows his eyes to lull open, lazily scanning its contents; in short order, it draws an amused smile to his lips. "They speak of slaughtering us. Have we lost a single life?" the Mali'fenn asks. He is met with the shake of a head. "Ne, I thought not. And yet, we have taken some 4,300 of theirs." "And how many times have they refused to meet us in the field, insisting we assault their walls?" Continuing to read, he utters, "Perhaps they did not comprehend the missive, either."

The thudding of hooves and clanking of steel thundered through the forested Hinterlands, silencing the calls of its avian inhabitants. With purpose did the purple-clad soldiers advance; blue cloth streamed from the tips of lances upon the mounted contingent, whilst the infantry followed suit at a jog. Faces hidden by their now signature purple veils, this disciplined cohort of Snow Elves was on patrol, and hoped to catch their newfound foes off-guard. Moving through Idol's Garden, they soon came upon precisely what they sought - a mercenary company aligned with their Orcish foes, equal in numbers to their own, ran straight into their vanguard. Horns blared, steel crashed, and arrows whipped through the air; almost immediately, the mercenaries beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the Iron Uzg. All along the road, they were ridden down; pierced by lances, struck by arrows, and cleaved by the infantry that followed close behind. Lo - when the dust settled, only a tenth of their number managed to escape. The rest, strewn along the western road, would serve as a grizzly reminder of the day the Valkryim rode. The Valkyrim - ancient, elite royal guards of Fenn - had been retasked to the defense Malin'or and its High Prince. The time had come for the Elves to show their finest.

____________________________________________________________________________________________ From the west it came - a dry breeze rolling through the forests of Malin'or. It carried the rotting stench of Orcs. Elves swarmed through the streets of Celia'nor, bustling about their business. This day, though, it was neither lowly labor nor the high pursuits of art that carried them forth. Princess Ivarielle's declaration had been spread, and a response was expected; their business was now battle. Celia'diraar shuffled to and fro, lining bows and arrows upon the parapets. They donned their armor and prepared under the direction of Ivarielle and the Mordu'lar. But they would not fight alone. High Prince Vytrek arrived upon horseback, swinging a leg over his steed to dismount at a trot. Flanked by the elite Valkyrim of the Mali'fenn in their distinctive purple veils, they swiftly posted at the gates and joined their Malinorian comrades in preparation. The Mali'ker of Nor'asath led by Prince Netseth arrived shortly after, the sable armor of the Silan'siol glimmering in the day's golden rays. A contingent of Mali'ame from Amaethea came as well, marching through the gates with bows and quivers. Volunteers, many of them visiting humans of Oren with several Ferrymen among their number, armed themselves alongside their newfound Elven comrades. In total, 2,900 Malinorians bore steel. It was not long before the horde arrived. Their drums echoed through the forested Emberlands of Celia'nor as they marched down the road, drawing to a halt before the silver city's gates. Blood-thirsty Orcs bearing steel - a veritable rabble - were flanked by Ashguard of Norland from the north, remnants of the Haelun'orian rebels and oiled Hyptosians, Mali'ker extremists, and other volunteers. They were, in numbers, some 3,600 warriors - whipped into an over-confident frenzy at their easy, expected victories over the infantile Elysians. They had forgotten what it was to fight real Elves. Shouts were soon exchanged by both sides, and in short order, the Orcs turned and moved off into the forests. Battle was expected. Princess Ivarielle took command of the cavalry, and deployed them to the surrounding forests - a force of the Celia'diraar and human volunteers. High Prince Vytrek took overall command, arranging the infantry. At his flanks were the Snow Elven Valkyrim, and at his back, the remaining Celia'diraar, Silan'siol, Amaetheans, and volunteers. As their preparations finished, a battlecry sounded from the woods, and a volley of arrows landed upon the walls. The cavalry charged forth, led by Ivarielle, and began to skirmish with the Horde's riders. Arrows flew through the brush, snapping twigs from the viridescent foliage. All of a sudden, the Elven cavalry lowered their lances and charged the skirmishers, with Ivarielle at their helm. One volunteer by the name of Leonidas distinguished himself, driving his polearm through numerous Orcish beasts to dismount their riders. Above the din of battle, Vytrek bellowed - "Ceru'rost myumiererih!" - and the Valkryim charged forth on foot, joining the skirmish with their mounted comrades. It was at this point that the Horde attacked; refusing to leave their riders to a grisly fate, their infantry surged forth from the treeline in a great mob, loosing arrows and gripping blades. Another horn sounded in turn, and the Elven formations swiftly poured forth from the gates in neat order. They had just enough time to form ranks before the Orcs collided with their shield wall in a deafening, metallic din. The opposing sides' shields pressed against each other, a battle of strength. Outnumbered as they were, the Elves gave some ground, drawing the Orcs closer and closer to the gates. Sabatons braced against the fertile soil; their shields held, and the formation soon drew to a halt. Mustering all their strength, the outnumbered Malinorians pushed the Orcs back in a sudden shove. Shields opened, spears lowered, and they charged forth as one. Like a scythe upon a wheatfield, they drove through the Horde's ranks, mowing down Orcs, Elves, and Norlanders with ease. Such was the slaughter that the Elves' abandoned their formations in the charge, and the battle descended into a fray. Blades met steel and flesh alike; before the Horde could even know to retreat, the vast majority of their number fell to the dirt. The din of battle was pierced only by the screams of their dying. Those that were fortunate enough to be in the rear turned to flee, but were promptly mown down by the Malinorian cavalry. As drawn out as their skirmishing had been, the actual battle was over in minutes. Of the 2,900 Malinorians upon the Emberland Plain, nearly all remained standing; less then 100 suffered wounds of various degrees. Of the 3,600 Orcs, Haelun'orian rebels, Hyptosians, Mali'ker rebels, and Norlanders, 3,300 would find the lands they sought from Malin'or, and remain upon them forevermore. Their crimson blood drowned the once verdant plain of the Emberlands. Only 300 managed to escape; tails tucked between their legs, they fled home. The united Elves of Malin'or had fought their first battle. It was a crushing victory. And so after centuries of humiliations at the hands of other descendants, the Elves had single-handedly proved their strength against their most warlike of foes, and restored pride to Malin's sons and daughters.