TornadoWatch

Throughout Castle Greywynn lie posters. Letters are also sent to those who were in the Teutonic Order before it was dissolved. "Brothers and sisters, servants of the Emperor, It has been noted that since the dissolution of the Teutonic Order, the performance of some has been slacking. Thusly, this upcoming Elven Weekend, a series of training exercises will be held to bring each and every man in service to the Emperor up to top shape. All in attendance will do endurance training, weapons training, conflict resolution tactics, and first aid training, amongst other important skills. These exercises will take place in Castle Greywynn. All are expected to attend, and those who attend all three training sessions will be rewarded with a promotion in rank. Hail the Emperor. - Commander Jonathan Black"

((Yes.

The Teutonic Order had been disbanded, but its members were still very much alive. They served as the Emperor's direct bannermen now; most of the tabards and memorabilia of the Order had been shipped off to Horen, as the Edict requested. Even now, they prepared to move out of Castle Greywynn as the Emperor ordered. They weren't quite out yet, however, and in Jonathan Black's mind it was still his duty to guard the North and everything in his sphere of influence as long as he and his men were present - Even if he was not the Hochmeister anymore. Admittedly, they had not done well in this regard as of late. The War in the North had been a distraction. The malevolent forces in the Far North had been held back successfully, yet whatever was up there had not been totally beaten; just contained. Still, the full attention required to successfully fulfill such a task was not given. As such, a presence had seen it fit to take up residence dangerously close to Castle Greywynn. To the southwest of the Keep, practically bordering it, lied a workshop on a hill - Vonhill, as it was named by the Sariants. The Vonschlichten Co. had been invited to the Kingdom of Hanseti by Mirtok DeNurem, and they had set up shop. Over time, however, neglect and abandonment caused the Workshop to lie unused and dilapidated, the achievements and experiments of the Vonschlichten Engineers lost in the ruins. What had once been a hub of progress and scientific advancement quietly decayed into a hotbed of corruption. A being of unknown origins crept into the facility, taking it as its own. A group of adventurers from the Arcane Delvers heard of this state of affairs and resolved to fix it, taking a brave party of ten and venturing into the deepest recesses of the facility. They were destroyed by the overwhelming dark powers of the being and its minions, which swarmed them and picked them all off one by one. The residents of Castle Greywynn itself, despite being right next to the Workshop, were unaware of the situation. All but one - Eldak Songsteel. His warnings that there were 'ghosts' in the Workshop were ignored and laughed off until word came that a party had entered the Workshop and had not returned. Screams had been heard, along with the sounds of violence and death. A quick response team was gathered, consisting of around four men. Not only were the rumors found to be true, but they were worse than originally imagined. The party found the facility in total ruins and darkness, undead shambling around the halls mindlessly, an abomination formed by magic and exposure to experimental materials, and perhaps most disturbingly: What appeared to be a figure clad in black robes, laughing maniacally and proclaiming that the facility belonged to it. The party retreated to Castle Greywynn, and Jonathan Black began making a plan. It was evident that the facility was dangerous to even walk in; not only were the undead minions deadly, but the abomination seemed to spit some kind of corrosive and infectious saliva. Deep within the vault of Greywynn lied a solution. Most of the Order's assets had been lost in the transfer from Asulon to Anthos, but one major thing had survived: The TAC Industrial Suits. The TAC suits were a curious piece of work. Each one was a heavy suit of metal, designed for the purpose of keeping the pink cloud of Hanseti out. They also functioned well as heavy armor, although the gigantic bulk of the suits made it slightly difficult to effectively fight in them. This was mitigated by an enchantment cast on each suit that greatly reduced its weight. The heavy armor of the suits, combined with their effective protection from pathogens floating around in the Vonschlichten facility, made them an ideal choice for the mission. Each suit was dragged out of the Castle's deepest vaults and set up in stations. A slightly larger party of seven would be assembled, one for each available TAC suit. A few birds and loud shouts later, and all were assembled in the warroom. _______________________________________________________________ Jonathan looks across the assembled faces. Seven in total: William, Wes, Eldak, Thorne, Drake, Silent and himself. "Men." He begins, clearing his throat. "There's no easy way to put this: It appears a demon of some kind has seen fit to set up shop on our own doorstep. This is not only an insult to us, but an insult to the Creator and the Emperor himself. This abomination cannot stand; we -must- cleanse the facility that is infested with this evil and reclaim it, before the problem spreads. Gear up." He waves his hand, and the party equips themselves in the suits; not without difficulty, considering the weight and learning curve of operation. Each and every man was equipped with a TAC suit, longsword, crossbow and bolts, provisions, and perhaps most interestingly - a canteen of water. Not for drinking, but for a more convoluted purpose. The party sets out from Greywynn, heading to the Workshop. The main entry-way had collapsed, and as such the best way to get inside happens to be a conspicuously broken window on the side of the building. Eldak takes point, drawing his sword and climbing inside first. "Clear." Comes his muffled voice from under the helm. The rest of the group follows in, some loading crossbows to discharge at whatever comes at them. A torch is taken from the still slightly lit room by Thorne, lighting the way ahead. The groans of the undead seem to come from all sides; silence is key, yet impossible in the bulky suits. Before long, however, the Lift to the lower levels of the facility is reached. "Damn, it's collapsed... " Jonathan sighs, looking down the shaft, then turning his head to the group. "There's got to be another way, eh?" All are silent until Wes speaks up. "Follow me; there's a secret way Tear made. She worked here and I know her." He maneuvers past the majority of the group and leads them back to where they came in, slipping into a side passage behind a painting. While narrow, all of them are able to crawl inside and gain access to the next level. Almost as soon as they set foot into the new area, an unbelievable stench hits them like a foul cloud. Heavy breathing can be heard ahead, along with the loud stomping of feet. As they progress onward, the beast reveals itself; a hulking behemoth, ten feet tall and muscular, with two eyes on its head and one on its back. It roars at them before charging forward, aiming at whatever gets in its way. Silent looks ahead at the charging beast and closes his eyes, seeming to focus. A moment later, a jet of fire erupts from him, setting the abomination aflame. It continues its charge as Silent steps to the side, smacking Jonathan to the left and managing to grab Eldak and pin him against the wall, spitting corrosive saliva wildly. The leader of the group recovers, getting himself up off the ground and stabbing his blade into the monster's back as Drake does the same. An infuriated roar is heard, and Eldak is released, only for the thing to charging for William. It pins him against the wall and begins to slam him against it. The party, acting as one, all jab their swords into its exposed back. Again the beast roars in pain, only to be stabbed again in the arm by William. The abomination stumbles back, its charred and wounded flesh a hideous sight. It finally succumbs to its wounds and falls over an edge, crashing below and shaking the entire facility from the weight. "No point in stopping now..." Jonathan mutters, bending down and picking up a gleaming key from the ground that the thing seems to have dropped. "Come on." He gestures for all to follow as he leads them down a hallway, slipping the key into a locked door at the end. It creaks open to a whole different level; unlike the parts before, this area was deathly silent. The smell is still present, but a bit fainter. In front of them stands another operational lift which they all entered. The lift seems to have several different destinations, including a laundry section and obstacle course; neither of these seemed to have anything of note. When the lift was taken down to the lowest level, however, a foul coldness seemed to be in the air. It seeps through even the thickest of their armor and chills them to the bone. Black takes out his crossbow and begins loading it, silently gesturing for the others to do the same. Each bolt is dipped into the canteens of water as it is loaded, allegedly the weakness of the dark mage. They march forward down the next hall, reaching a closed pair of doors at the end. The cold air seems to come from these doors; the doors are opened and they all enter. The source of the corruption is revealed. In the middle of a mostly empty room lies a floating obelisk and several chunks of rock, composed of endstone and chunks of rubble. On the southern end of the room is an elevated steel railing, where the party stood. On the west is a stairwell, leading to the floor below the obelisk. On top of the obelisk itself stands a figure, black as the night with dark purple eyes, staring at the group assembled before it. It cackles a bit before beginning to address those before it, its voice seeming to be many speaking at the same time. "I'm surprised you made it this fa-" In the middle of his sentence, he is interrupted. "-FIRE-." Jonathan orders, releasing his bolt, shortly followed by six more. The figure just laughs as the bolts pass harmlessly through it, embedding themselves in the wall. "I'm going to fuckin' kill that researcher.. Water as a weakness my ass." Wes mutters furiously, beginning to load another bolt. "Your men seem to have good aim! And to kill my pet as well; how skilled. Made it farther than the stupid Delvers, I suppose. So why are you here? To gossip, maybe have some tea?" He laughs again, the very tone of his voice furiously condescending. "And you!" His gaze turns to Jonathan. "The brave Commander. Years and years of service to his people. Doubtlessly many lives saved, and more ended. And yet, there was one you couldn't really protect." A dimly familiar female voice calls out as it finishes speaking. "Jonathan! Please!" The man does not seem phased, nearly tilting his head. "And who might that be? We don't really have any female soldiers MIA at the moment." "Your fiancee?" The robed figure says, laughing some more. "Oh, how -could- you forget?" "Jonathan, please; you don't have to do this. We can live the life we wanted - together. Come..." The spectral figure rises from the ground, offering a hand. The commander freezes, quietly blinking several times behind his helm. The crossbow falls feebly from his hands as he enters a state of minor shock. "Reload the damn bolts." Eldak orders. "Make sure they're covered in water this time!" "Come with me." He seems to snap out of it, shaking his head. "You aren't my damn fiancee." Another round of bolts is discharged; they again fly through the figure uselessly. Its 'hands' clasp together as it seems to focus. A bloodcurdling scream comes from its mouth as Jonathan fully recovers. "Out of the room, -MOVE-!" The men rush out, grouping together outside. "When we re-enter that room, we have two options. Kill that thing, or we die. Silent, get your magic ready." He growls, drawing his longsword. "Forward." They enter into the other door, taking the stairwell down into the main room, surrounding the persona of darkness. Four black tentacles sprout from the body of the figure on the obelisk, lashing out at the group. A short fight ensues; the tentacles are cut off, one by one, and the figure is knocked from his pedestal. Eldak climbs onto the obelisk and grips his sword, plunging it down over and over. Others join in, stabbing it from the bottom. Before long, the obelisk cracks and shatters, falling onto the ground. The servant of darkness screams, losing his dark aura as he falls to the ground, revealed to be an elf. The body is beheaded and burned as all present observe. William nods. "Guess that's it then, eh?" Footsteps are heard coming down the hallway; a man arrives on the balcony, looking down. "Eesh... Zats not a pretty sight!" All look up at him. "Who are you?" The leader asks, going up to meet him. "I am known as ze Wanderer. I vas hunting zat thing you killed; Malindrian. Malindrian vanted to start a cult out of this place, pumping out more and more of zose... Things you killed, as vell as more like hemself. Eet is goot that you managed to stop him." He grins as he takes out a bag of minas, tossing it to Black. "Ja, you earned it." They all head back to Greywynn, taking the Wanderer with them. Every man celebrates their victory, drinking Hansetian ale and discussing their individual experiences. The sun sets on the Kingdom, and it is known, if but to a few, that they had accomplished something that day.

Only a few meters away from the Dreadfort lies Castle Greywynn. It is several days after Augustus' death; the sun has set and a quiet, peaceful night has descended on Castle Greywynn. Jonathan Black is sitting in his office. Below, sariants furiously 'pack-up' Castle Greywynn; various goods are put into carts and crates to be shipped off to the Emperor. Black himself, however, simply looks out the window, watching all this and thinking. The war was doubtlessly to come to a close now. The Blackmonts would not dare attack the Emperor's personal land, and furthermor- There is a quiet knock on the door as a messenger enters. "Hochmei- I mean, Jonathan Black? Augustus Blackmont is dead." Jonathan nods quietly without turning his head; the messenger leaves the room, quietly shutting the metal door behind him. The former Hochmeister smiles a bit, his suspicions confirmed. Augustus Blackmont was truly dead; dead. Not just slain on the battlefield to be revived by the heretical influence of the Monks. Dead. He would almost miss the old bastard, and would call him a worthy opponent if he weren't such an endless annoyance. He chuckles to himself, somewhat amused. Augustus Blackmont was dead; in all likelihood, Mirtok Denurem was as well. It seemed like a fitting end to the age-old Blackmont and Sariant rivalry; both leaders died. No one truly won in war, after all. Then again, all things considered? He had gotten out of the whole incident rather well. ((Rest in peace, I guess. I couldn't hate you more from an IC perspective, and we hardly saw eye to eye OOCly, but you are hardly the worst person I've had to deal with; I'm not going to hold a grudge on an online game. Enjoy your life.))

Hochmeister Black calmly reads the edict. It is not a look of shock or disappointment that crosses his face; merely a quiet acceptance. If the Emperor ordered him, he would do it. A few hours later, and Castle Greywynn is busy as ever. Sariants take their tabards off, stuffing them in multiple carts. The flag of the black cross at the central gate is torn down, and throughout the rest of the Keep other Black Crosses are torn down, one by one. The requirements of the Edict are fulfilled and all symbols of the Order are packed onto the cart; the Hochmeister, or he who used to be the same, and several Sariants escort the cart to the Capital. The men arrive at the Emperor's palace, and the goods are delivered to him personally, stacked high in the form of crates in the throne room. Jonathan Black kneels before the Emperor. "I have done everything as asked, your Imperial Holiness. You have tested my loyalty, and I have stayed loyal. Do as you wish."

More iron. A LOT more iron. This 20 blocks every 14 hours doesn't cut it. At that rate, one month's worth of iron going to one faction will not supply an army for one single battle. It must be increased GREATLY.

Jonathan Black looks at the destroyed Blackmont fort. Hooray for a Teutonic victory; they had accomplished -their- goals.

Jonathan Black tilts his head. "Huh. Where does it say in Imperial Law that you can claim a Kingdom simply by saying that its current holder is bad at their job? Very interesting, considering the Emperor's told me that none have a claim on the Kingdom of Hanseti. I wonder what he'll think of this. Very interesting threats, as well, considering that we've caught Blackmonts trying to steal cauldrons and anvils to smelt down into iron as they probably have just about none after -that- battle..." He shakes his head, brushing the petty letter away to attend to more important matters.

Groovy

The difference between medieval an eastern quality swords is highly up to debate ; the difference in quality was not THAT bad. Interesting idea, but it could use some work. I'm not sure if I want us getting too much new tech.

Jonathan tilts his head at the notice. "Eh? Who do you send a bird to if there's no signature on the damn thing?"

The war in the North has honestly been going on for more than a year. I'd say 5 at least.

Assuming that we just want to enslave you, or something, is a bit off. Assuming that such a state of affairs would persist for two IRL years, a period longer than the server and just about every nation has even existed, is a bit off. I wouldn't play a 'Kha slave character'. The situation you paint is ridiculously dystopic to the point where it makes almost no sense because its 1. Not what is supposed to happen and 2. Even if it DID happen, would not last two whole years. I think you need to chill out a bit and look at things from a realistic as opposed to emotional perspective. I won't reply after this to avoid drama.

Maybe you would. I'd just kind of welcome anything that came my way. Eventually it would get shaken up.

Nope, I'd deal with it. Make a day of it. Work with the oppressing government only to backstab them, lead a full-fledged rebellion, all of that. Maybe vent a bit to friends, and some to enemies, but I'd just deal with it. That's just me.

Jonathan Black stands by the right side of the foot of the Emperor's throne, staring ahead at the visitors through a completely shut visor. He stares coldly at them, his plate armor revealing no emotions. He stays silent; the Emperor knew best how to handle this. Calling them filthy mutants and telling them their vassal town was a joke would not help, after all.

So... What you are saying is that RP situations are going to be changed because of OOC desires to satisfy people?

Now hold on. What would the problem be with humanity dominating everything, as long as the other races are not experiencing wholesale genocide? People being under the dominion of foreign rule has happened often in real life, and there is no reason it should not be allowed to happen here.