Negotiations on the Field

From FiranMUX

As the soldiers assemble, Argin walks out from the direction of the general's tent, flanked by his usual retinue of guards. The prince moves to the forefront of the assembled columns, and lifts his hands over his head in a signal for attention. "Soldiers! I have good news! The Shamibelians are scared of us! They're so scared that one of their leaders wishes to meet with us and discuss the terms of a cease fire!" He pauses to let that sink in, and smiles. "What do you all think? Should we play nice?"

Cortik shouts, "No!"

Keeli shouts, "No!"

Aranos chuckles and hollers in answer to Argin's query, "Roast the goat!" *Firan*

Tyrsun is there and ready, clad in iron and sword out, as he looks off towards where the scary types must be coming from. Argin's words draw his attention, though, and he gives a soldiery roar, without breaking his dark facade too terribly.

Eriden shouts out, "Feck no!" from where he's sitting behind Marsalos on Novius. Play nice? *Firan*

Tanya says "What kind of terms?" *Firan*

Treydan shouts, "No!"

Parosh shouts, "let him come, I'll kill him where he stands!"

Kael shouts down at Argin, "Piss on that! 'Negotiate' his entrails out of his belly, Argin! Woooo! The time for negotiation is come and gone!" *Firan*

Marsalos snorts at the news, arching a brow. "Ellish or die!" *Firan*

Clarissa shouts, "To Ellish! To Ellish!"

Ulyn listens to shouts of yes or no. He says, "The One God always blesses those who use honourable terms. Give them an opportunity to show their sincerity." *Firan*

Karana stands, all Firanosian'd up, not answering the Prince's question. Her cowl is raised and she leans on her staff for support. However, the look on her face is clear. Mistrust, determination, the Firanosian Matriarch does not seem inclined to accept that the Goats want peace.

Dar chants, "To ELLISH!" *Firan*

Thaddia is... not in her Republic greens. Well, mostly not. She listens impassively at Argin's words, gaze looking around for a particular figure. But there he is. On a bird. Annoying out of range for sidling up and asking of subtle questions. Darn men.

Eriden says "Do goats have honor?" *Firan*

Wakiro blinks at the news shaking his head, muttering off to the side, "Only ceasefire I'd accept is one where they use it to leave Ellish." *Firan*

Tanya says "We do and that is what matters. We don't give up our honor." *Firan*

Aranos nods once before answering Eriden, "They do. It does wonderfully with a light spicy glaze, I hear." *Firan*

Kelarik does not shout a thing. Not a thing. He just quietly starts tapping the base of his spear against the ground rhythmically. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ion remains quite silent at his place with the archers, one arm folded across his be-ironed chest, his chin propped up in the palm of hand. Nope, no response from him. Simply a level and thoughtful stare.

Arinsana lingers with the archers for the time being. It's where she's been up until this point, so. Listening with a thoughtful frown, the armorer keeps silent, eyeing those she knows sidelong to gauge their reaction to the news.

Cortik beats his sword against his shield, "We can have honor and not have to play nice! Never trust the goats." *Firan*

Savaren hears the words. His scowl does not move. The tapping of his sword does not stop and he just looks to the frontlines of this season. 'I dont like it." He says to himself. *Firan*

Argin looks distinctly pleased by the response the troops give, and raises his hands once more for quiet as Donos arrives. "I hear you, Firans! Know that we will not settle for less than what we came here for! You have been called to order while we meet with these Shamibelian dogs so that we maintain a state of readiness! If they have some trick planned for us, I know that you will not let them enjoy the aftermath!" He steps to the side as Donos comes out. *Firan*

Treydan shakes his head immediately and makes his opinion well-known. After that he pretty much falls silent, though, rather observing others than voicing his opinion instead.

Among the lines of spears, Ulyn says, to a person to his side. "They called out a duel which another Firan responded. We are the ones who used deception last time. Let's use wisdom and see what the Enemy has to treat with." *Firan*

Balinda replies to Tezzer. "They may have no honor, but /we/ do and we should not lose it and become like them." *Firan*

(Editor's note: much cheering of Argin happened here. Edited for brevity.)

Donos calls out loudly, shouting to the troops. "So...do you think we ask them for a piece of their land in recompense as well, or do I just settle for Ellish and sparing their lives?" *Firan*

Zutanos shouts, "give us land!"

Tezzer looks to Balinda, scowling. "Naturally we should not. We are Firans. Honor is in our blood. But we should ever be prepared for them to act dishonorably, ma'am." *Firan*

Treydan shouts, "Make them go all the way back to Shamibel!"

Dar shouts, "We want it all and we want them to never return!!"

Nisa shouts, "Give them nothing but death!"

Rally stands quietly looking about at the shouting and the generals before them. she raises her voice in agreement at one call, "Give us back our people!!" *Firan*

As the troops around are whipped into a passionate frenzy, Alastor remains mute in the back ranks of the healers. He does have his short sword in hand, but he remains distanced from the events around him.

Eriden remembers the slaves he's seen, "They must give us all our our people -back-." *Firan*

Parosh stops the shouting now, because there's really nothing more to shout. He leans against his spear, watching people and waiting.

Karana simply shakes her head, letting her head bow a bit, murmuring soft prayers to Firanos. "Lord Firanos, instill your peace in our hearts and give us the resolve to defeat this trap, to free your people and join as one voice." *Firan*

Savaren remains silent now. Just watching the other troops here. His eyes going to the skies or the fields before them now and then.

Jericho glides his bird slowly over the troops, Kamili doing a gentle circle, occasionally flapping her wings to keep the wind under her. She lets out a cry as the troops get riled up.

Kelarik is silent other than that dull thudding of the butt of his spear against the ground. Not much really is revealed on his face, other than a quiet determination. But he's listening intently. Very intently.

Ion takes this opportunity to glance over at Tezzer and Balinda. "There is no honor in talking with them," he says, stiffly. "They serve he who dared to lift a hand against Lord Zutiv. -If- we come to an agreement, it is only so that we might smash them more effectively next year. Unless they earn His forgiveness, they deserve nothing more than to wander, without memory and without a home, for the rest of time." Nope. There's at least -one- Firan who does not have 'peace in his heart', let alone any peace given by Firanos. *Firan*

Donos points to the left, then the right. "Man the ballistas. No one attacks without my order...or my death. We are honourable people, we fight according to the laws of war as expressed by Lady Srenna and Lord Zutiv. We are meeting the goats under a flag of truce. And my army will _not_ be the first to break it. But that said...if they _do_ break it...grind them into the ground and make a pyre of their dead that can be seen from Anarinuell."

(Editor's note: much cheering of Donos happened here. Cut for sanity.)

Eriden nods once, then says to Marsalos. "Seeing them out there and not shooting them down is going to be wierd." He rests his bow across his lap, tracing the carvings on it as he watches and waits. *Firan*

Niobe perks up at the mention of ballistas, moving into a position near her favored one. Or favored of the day it doesn't matter, she gets to play with the ballista again. Okay so no shooting, preparation, and hold. Gotcha.

Melani looses three cheers for Donos as he speaks! And then she plants the butt of her spear into the ground and looks about for ... someone.

Clarissa looks around. "Are we going to assemble into formation to be at the ready?" she asks, of the group in general. She is not close enough to Argin to get his attention likely! *Firan*

Ah, yes. That was what Srenni was waiting for. Laws of war as expressed by the gods. The Griffon remains quiet, though, watching their leader. She has not yet drawn a weapon, though some may notice that the spear she has is not her normal one.

Arik keeps his arrow drawn and just watches. He seems fairly content to just watch without emotions. It's not his first negotiation or tense situation. He waits to see what happens lifting his voice in cheer but otherwise watching the skies for signs of the enemy pulling any stunts. He won't be the first to fire a shot but he'll certainly do his part in ending the fight if it does break out.

Donos calls out "As well as Prince Argin, and myself, I would like an honour guard made of one representative from each clan." *Firan*

Ista Aldrik needing a guard? Hah! That's his job. Parosh immediately shouts out, "I shall be your guard for the Bear Clan, Sir!"

Kelarik straightens slightly, lifting his chin. "I'll stand for the Eagle Clan if you'd have me, sir!" *Firan*

Marsalos says "I would gladly volunteer for the Eagle Clan, sir." *Firan*

Alessandro says, confidently. "I would be honored to represent you for the Gold Dragons, sir!" he says, shouting out. *Firan*

Tanya rises to her feet. She is Oshta. She whispers to her sister and moves over. "I will volunteer for the Ticanee clan." *Firan*

Savaren hears the call and raises a hand to Donos. "I will go for the chimerans, if needed." *Firan*

Tyrsun twitches at the offer, ready to represent the Gold Dr- ...Wait. And Parosh is all over the volunteering, but he steps forward anyway. "I too would be honored to represent the Bear Clan, Sir." *Firan*

Eriden calls out, "As a royal guard, I offer myself for the Bear Clan!" *Firan*

Cortik is already rising and calls out, "I will represent the Mighty Gold Dragon Clan, sir." *Firan*

Ion's eyes instinctively shift to Srenni, fixing themselves on her intently. There is no question in his eyes, but then neither is there any certainty. At last he rises to his feet and wanders over towards where she is, leaning in to murmurs something, sotto voce.

Zutanos shouts "I will represent the Hydra...unless one of my betters chooses it" *Firan*

Dar glances down towards Srenni, "Ma'am, are you going? Or may one of us other's go instead?" Leaving the choice to the noble, of course! *Firan*

Aranos grins, and looks to either side, before canting his copper-haired head to an angle and calling with a broad smile, "I can't be the only Cockatrice on the field today- but I'll be the one to go if none better happen along!" *Firan*

Arinsana whispers with Ion. She shakes her head slowly at him, then returns her focus to Donos and those shouting their names. The volunteer for the Chimera Clan is glanced at.

Marsalos volunteers as an Eagle at the same time Kelarik does. He quirks a brow and looks over at Donos for judgment on that, ready to do duty no matter where it happens to lie today.

Kelarik looks towards Marsalos, too. Oh. Look. Two Eagles. All Donos's choice. Yay choices.

Arik frowns quietly as everyone volunteers themselves. He shakes his head finding a faint sneer striking to his lips. For whatever reason he seems displeased by the manner but quickly stifles the look.

Tezzer eyes Kael. Kael, of all people. Is that really a good idea, to have a hothead on the honor guard? Still...he knows better than to argue with a N'Gato, and stands ready to do as ordered.

Srenni's gaze scans those gathered for her fellow Griffons. It falls upon Ion as he approaches and she listens silently. The corners of her mouth tug down in response, though she says nothing in return. "I am." She /is/ her clan's minister of war, anyway, and she steps towards Donos. "I will stand for the Griffon Clan." *Firan*

Donos calls out "Ohh, would someone like to go get some tea for me. We can't have a meeting with the goats without a nice cup of tea." *Firan*

Rally can do tea, 'I wll get Tea Sir'

Rally has left.

Kelarik starts to answer out of longstanding habit, and Rally beats him to it. Honestly, her tea is probably far better for Bears. It's Bear Tea.

Ion offers nothing more than a dip of his chin, and a whispered "Zutiv bless" before turning away and returning to his seat, beside Arinsana. "I'm back." Because, naturally, this announcement is necessary. *Firan*

Donos lifts his voice, calling back. "Prince Savaren, I'd love to take you, but if this is a trap...I'd rather know you were charging up to avenge our deaths, as I know you would do so with a fine grin of vengeance upon your face." Donos looks about and selects from those who've volunteered, pointing to Aranos, Parosh, Tanya, Kelarik, Zutanos, Srenni, Cortik and Kael. *Firan*

Thaddia picks out Savaren and Melani, then looks towards Donos. "I believe you have your choice of Chimeran nobles, Donos." She looks once more towards Melani for verification of her words. *Firan*

Rally has arrived.

Aranos grins aside, and quips to Arinsana, as he taps the javelin in hand on his shoudler, "My turn to run off ahead of the rest of you, eh?" *Firan*

Two Eagles have already volunteered and someone's going after the tea. Yacen stands in the front and waits, in case he's needed.

Kelarik turns and inclines his head to Marsalos, and then moves quietly towards Donos, spear in hand. His face remains carefully neutral.

Rally returns with nice steaming pots of tea and cups. The Shadina servant knows tea, that she does....now she looks for a nice soldier to hand it to.

Marsalos does not look as miffed at this as one might expect him to. There's a crapload of jobs to be doing out here, and the Air Force is sitting here waiting for him. He sits back again on the griffon, nodding to Kelarik. "Don't take no for an answer, Kel!" *Firan*

Zutanos hears his name and nods, stepping forward to stand with the others.

Donos looks around. "Wait, somehow I counted the Hydran clan twice. Srenni instead of Kael...no offence Kael..but given how much trouble you've already gotten yourself into this war..I'd rather you didn't get me into any as well." *Firan*

Savaren listens to Donos. He then nods slightly and turns to look at all those here. He remains quiet for now. He taps his sword again on his shoulder and waits.

Jericho looks down to Kelarik as his griffon circles over. He nods his head to young man. He smirks at Donos's call over Kael. Shaking his head and he flys higher.

Excellent. Parosh nods his head and moves on forwards to wherever the hell they'll be standing. Near to Donos and Argin probably.

Kael hops off the griffon, which Alessandro apparently didn't have flying anyway. He unslings his Hydra-themed round shield and brandishes his javelin, standing straight as an arrow. And then his dreams are crushed. "Mm. Yes, sir." And then he gives Zutanos the evil eye, and goes to rejoin Alessandro on his bird. Damn tea lovers. *Firan*

Argin looks as the selected honor guard individuals begin to form up, and turns to address the army at large, "Savaren has command for the duration! Be ready for anything!" *Firan*

Aranos nudges Parosh with an elbow as he too falls in along with the others. "Got your back again, Parosh," he quips with a smile. *Firan*

Zutanos frowns slightly as he is chosen over the Noble but still holds his place, greatful for a chance to represent the clan.

Rally doesn't find someone who looks like they even have the faintest idea how to serve tea so well as a Bear servant so with a resigned sigih, she moves to follow with the honor guard. tea is very important after all.

"Apologies...Thaddia will represent the Chimeran clan." Donos says.

Srenni strides forward, in armor the goats may very well recognize, being it belonged to Zayes. Her spear, too, was her mother's. She takes her position by Argin and Donos, bowing her head in a nod towards them.

Parosh salutes slightly over towards Eriden and walks on over, nodding to Andreas and Aranos. "Indeed," is his reply basically. *Firan*

Karana murmurs and lifts her staff slightly. "Lord Firanos, bless this display of unified clans. Bless them and keep them strong. Lend your voice to your people and let this army stand as united as this honor guard. Lord Firanos, we are your people." *Firan*

"Be safe, Rally!" Eriden waves to he cook, looking slightly concerned. "Grab a frying pan--just in case!" He's been smacked with one of those--they hurt!

Tyrsun grits his teeth a bit as Srenni advances to join Donos, but he knows enough to keep his yap shut. He resheathes his sword with a bit of force, looking towards the Honor Guard with a cold stare.

Kelarik quietly mumbles a prayer, then assembles with the rest of the guards, spear grasped in his hand. He does not look worried, just... neutral. Very, very neutral.

Rally gives Eriden a nervous gaze and a smile but she can't wave from under her tray of tea and cups.

Marsalos mutters under his breath. "Lord Zin, be with your men and women. And if something happens, please drown the sons of bitches." *Firan*

Karana lifts her hand and makes a fist, starting to quietly thump it against her breastplate. It's become a standard Fifth thing before battle, but it seems the diplomat sees this as a battle in and of itself as well..

Tanya takes a deep breath, glances once last time at her sister and then moves to her position, likely by Thaddia.

Savaren blinks at the substitutions and then looks at those around. HE nods to Argin and Donos. "Aye. Just make sure nothing goes wrong." He smiles a bit. "Something does go wrong, i wont hesitate." He then looks to the soldiers. "Get Prepared. Form up, and watch everything." He then begins to take stock of those here. to put them together. *Firan*

Aranos idly hums under his breath, as he and the other chosen clan guards form up around the person of thier illustrious leader. The same small smile marks his expression as the solider awaits the word to move.

Arik looks dubiously at Alessandro. Otherwise he seems content enough as the 'delegation' prepares. Hmmm delegations usually have bad luck. Well wouldn't be the first bit of luck Donos reversed this year. Arik glances back towards Nisa, "Steady back there?" *Firan*

A last command from the First General, looking to those around him and then to the army. "Once again, no one attacks without my order, or my death. We are winning this war, let's not do something even a thug in the Old City would think twice about. Besides, it would be impolite." With that he turns and leads the party towards the diplomatic tent.

Savaren looks up and smiles at Aleesadnro and nods. "GEt yer Girffons formed up and ready." HE then nods to Melani over something. He then begins to point out places. *Firan*

Donos heads to the Front. Donos has left.

Garen's Gully

Steeper than even Judano's Climb, this slope reaches up into the high hills around Ellish. The cliffs are cut off here, the slope forming a sort of cut-out ramp through them. It's a natural slope, probably formed by erosion. The granite on the ground is scarred with many rivulets worn by millions of years of rain water, plus dust and stray pebbles and stones. The cliffs poke up twenty or thirty feet high on either side of you. The whole ramp is only twenty-five feet wide, a narrow channel up onto the hilly plateau. At the bottom of the road there are scattered trees and shrubs. Vegetation grows thickly around the cliffs and the tops of the plateau is heavily forested. Atop the cliff, though, the trees seem to die away. That is the entrance to the Scarred Lands.

Hralib has arrived.

Srenni closes her eyes momentarily as if in prayer.

The Shamibelians come riding down the road on horses. They don't use them often in battle--preferring griffons. So it is perhaps some sort of ceremonial thing, because they are decked out with war paint and feathers and bridles ornamented with the skulls of small babies. The Governor is amongst the retinue, and several of his officers. He seems to have come with an honor guard as well, or whatever the Shamibelian equivalent is. They ride in a formation behind him. Only Hralib seems to be riding out of formation, somewhat to the side. A perceptive scout might notice that the forests and hilltops are covered with Shamibelian archers, ready to attack if something were to go wrong.

Or perhaps just to attack you for fun. You never know.

And a perceptive Shamibelian might notice that the tent happens to be in range of a sizeable number of ballistas which all, quite by chance, happen to be loaded.

The Firan emblassage stand outside the tent, A loose circle currently in discussion with few identifying marks to distinguish one from another as they're all similarly armed and armoured. The Tent itself is open on all sides, more of a frame with a roof, allowing both Goats and Republic soldiers to see within from a distance.

The Shamibelians are also armed, but they are riding under a flag of truce. Their version anyway. It's a stylized Firanosian symbol dripping in blood, if any of you are Firanosian and have the right turn of imagination to see it. Fudathim is off his horse first, his officers with him, securing their horses and adjusting helmets and the like. Only Hralib remains on his horse, and starts a slow meander around the tent as if to make sure that there aren't hidden assassins and the like. Not a word is spoken, but Hralib is appraising each of the honor guards and does not seem to like what he sees.

Argin stands as casually as possible given the circumstances along with the other Firans, arms folded over his chest. He's armed and armored, but his sword remains sheathed as he waits. The prince watches the approaching Shamibelian retinue like a hawk, and Hralib in particular, but says nothing.

Kelarik is very, very Firanosian. He has the right turn of imagination. And he swallows once, hard, and remains completely, utterly impassive... with his priest's robes draped across overtop of his armor.

Cortik stands alertly with the honor guard around the general. He turns his head around, peering at the surroundings distastefully. But his job is protection during this "truce" and so he does his absolute best to not sneer at the Shamibelian party that rides toward them. He, instead, deepens his scowl on his face, looking angrier as a result. *Firan*

<OOC> Hralib says, "Shamibelian speakers, please @check language/shamibelian + perception at 7"

Srenni takes the time between her volunteering and their departure to murmur a prayer. But then they are leaving. The Griffon Clan representative strides after confidently, marked by the red and white iron armor of Zayes: clan colors. Her jaw tightens slightly as she looks on to Fort Zayes, but otherwise her intense gaze looks on to the Shamibelians. Perhaps a few glances in other directions, but mostly her stare falls upon Fudathim and his honor guard.

Tanya silently watches the procession.

Donos whispers to the Firans, before the Goats are in earshot, with his back to them. "You might notice me being far more..deferential to Argin and Thaddia than I normally am at war. I've not suddenly ceased to command this army, I just want them to think that given what their letters seemed to indicate on their lack of intelligence information about me." Donos then turns as they start to approach, still within the loose circle of Firan soldiers, standing at a parade-ground rest, remarking to no one in particular. "Not knowing a thing about it...are those good horses? If so, make a note to include them in our demands. I'm sure there are some people who like them...can't imagine why though." *Firan*

Thaddia just stands quietly. Her sword hangs from her belt, rather than resting in her hand. Her arms are crossed while she waits, brilliant blue eyes watching the Goats as they dismount.

<OOC: ROLL> Kelarik rolls his Language/shamibelian + Perception at difficulty 7 and gets 2 successes. <OOC: ROLL> Argin rolls his Perception + Language/shamibelian at difficulty 7 and gets 3 successes. <OOC: ROLL> Tanya rolls her Language/shamibelian + Perception at difficulty 7 and gets 2 successes.

To (Kelarik, Tanya, Argin), Hralib pages: You realize the Shamibelians are pissed that there are women in the honor guard and they're bitching about it and proposing just walking away.

Parosh is 100% utterly Bear. His cloak is bear fur, his armour? Bear. Bear. He stands for a moment, before moving along and placing his hand on Kelarik's shoulder, supportingly. Kind of.

Zutanos stands as straight and still as he can with his hand on his spear as he watches the 'other side'

Aranos's small easy grin remains on his face even at the sight of the grim Shamibelian emissary and his company. He nods once to Donos' instructions, idly taking note of the armaments of the Shamis in the opposing 'honor guard'. Very quietly under his breath, the Cockatrice continues to hum, fingers drumming on the haft of his clan-emblazined javelins in time.

The Shamibelians are muttering to themselves now. Something already seems to be amiss.

Tanya looks over at one shamibelian who is talking and she arches a single brow before looking at Argin and then quietly informing others of something.

Argin murmurs something quietly to Donos.

There's a bit of a twitch to Thaddia's brows, but her expression otherwise remains impassive as she watches - and listens - to the Goats that are dismounting and whatnot. She steps a touch closer to Donos, murmuring something to him.

Kelarik quietly watches the opposing honor guard, then flicks his eyes towards Donos. There's a slight pause, and he, as well, murmurs something, then steps back to stand beside Parosh again.

You whisper "They're not happy that there's women in this honor guard, sir." to Donos. *Firan*

Rally is every bit the Bear servant, teapot wielded and ready to be poured. She watches the approaching shamibelians but she stands quietly waiting for the negotiations to begin.

Hralib is still mounted on horseback. He kicks into the side of his animal and approaches the Firans again. "The Governor, Lord Fudathim of Ellish, Priest of Obala, Holder -- Countless wives too numerous to mention and all their lands, is forbidden by his religion to negotiate with women. You ---- note that is why the ---- behind me was held with such --------- since your General Zayes lacked the masculine spirit required for proper negotiation and so all the ---------- could do was attach ----- to her prisoners and launch them at her." *Firan*

Donos nods to the other Firans, saying nothing as he simply stands patiently amidst the rest of the Republic soldiers, remarking to Rally. "I do hope the tea's not going to get too cold while they decide if they're staying or going. I've had quite enough cold tea this campaign already." *Firan*

Donos turns, saying something in a low voice to Argin, then leaning back again, mild smile on his face as he looks up to the sky, then back to the Shamibelians.Hralib says "The women will have to withdraw. But if they --- I'll tell you something you did not know." *Firan*

Argin continues to stand with arms folded across his chest as he regards Hralib with an expression of neutrality. "General Zayes no longer commands this army, so you needn't worry about a lack of any masculine spirit this time around." He nods toward Rally, Tanya, and Srenni in turn. "These women are servants. You will not be negotiating with them." He does not indicate Thaddia. *Firan*

Hralib tells Argin, "They ---- have to withdraw." *Firan*

One corner of Srenni's mouth pulls upwards as she listens, but only for a brief moment before she is back to her normal, stoic self. Until Hralib speaks of her mother, anyway, at which her eyes narrow. She remains where she is, spear in hand and standing tall, posture straight. Silent, to hear the response.

Cortik narrows his eye as he looks at Hralib and hears the demands, then his view goes back to Argin and the young Gold Dragon's feet dig into the ground. He remains silent, however.

Rally bows her head at the words and touches the pot gingerly, concern in her eyes that the tea will get too cold for the General but she breathes a sigh of relief to find that it nearly burns her fingers but she assures softly, "It is hot sir...for now." *Firan*

Zutanos remains motionless and says nothing. He simply stands and watches. His glance does move to Cortik once before looking to the front

Thaddia doesn't visibly react to Argin's words like she might normally. She watches the Goats, eyes unfriendly. After all, they were the ones who brought her into this. Not the other way around.

Tanya did not get all of that. The horse mounted man was mumbling and she can only assume he must be distressed. She stands there as if she's got all day. They called for the negotiations and now they are trying to control them. She looks at Hralib, blue eyes calm.

Kelarik is completely, utterly, stony silent. It's like really, he's just here for the tea. Except that he's not. Quietly watching the opposing forces, he avoids looking at their 'flag of truce' entirely, simply waiting and watching with unblinking resolve.

Argin considers something momentarily, and exchanges a few quiet words with Donos. "As a sign of good faith, and because we are an honorable people, our women will remain out of earshot. They will not be speaking to the Governor - or to you, whoever you are - but they are part of our honor guard." He pauses. "Besides, you demanded a descendent of Elianos. Would you prefer we send her away?" He does not indicate which one is said descendent. *Firan*

Hralib nods to Argin. "I should have warned you about the women before hand. Withdraw the women. Bring forward the princes and your officers, and we will sit. And since you are being so reasonable, I will offer you this--it is a letter. From your mother." *Firan*

Hralib drops the papyrus scroll.

Argin takes the scroll, but does not read it. He holds it in his hand, which perhaps tightens into a fist just briefly. At length, he tilts his head toward Thaddia. "Take the women back to the main camp. Send out Marsalos and Tyrsun." *Firan*

Donos remains a half-step to the right and behind Argin as he takes the scroll, then turning to look at the others as they're dismissed, a brief smile to his face, with his back to the Shamibelians before he composes into a more serious mien and turns to face them again.

Thaddia nods to Argin. It is not the nod of a subordinate. She looks to the women of the group, "Soldiers. We'll be returning to the camp as apparently our presence distresses the Shamibelians beyond the ability to cope. Form up." Her tone is clipped, the words an order. *Firan*

Rally looks questioningly from the tea to the Leaders and goes to set the tea up on the table before moving to follow the other women.

Rally drops the mint tea.

Cortik listens to the exchanges and frowns deeper now. He steps in behind Donos then, filling up the ranks as some of the honor guard depart.

Tanya replies calmly, "I knew they were cowards." She, so not subordinate, turns to follow Thaddia. *Firan*

Hralib turns his horse, and trots back to the Shamibelian warlords, tells them that the women are leaving and that decidedly constipated look leaves their faces.

Fudathim comes to the fore, and stormes towards the table, sitting down and looking rather fierce. His horns have gold, and the officers with him have jewels embedded into their horns as well. He takes a seat at the table, and has Hralib sit beside him, like an interpreter. "You should know that --- are unlawful invaders, and we ask by what right you should continue to attack my city year after year." *Firan*

Thaddia watches the women as they fall into formation. A nod is given to Donos and Argin and the Princess leads her small cadre back to the lines.

Thaddia has left. Srenni, Tanya, and Rally follow Thaddia. Srenni has left. Tanya has left. Rally has left.

Argin listens to something Donos says quietly before looking from him to Parosh. Clearly, he means for the two of them to follow him to the table. The prince walks over and takes a seat opposite the Shamibelian contingent, hands folded neatly on the table. "Before we begin, you will order your men to cover or remove the skulls they wear. It is offensive to our culture and an insult to our gods to parade the parts of the dead." An admission for an admission. *Firan*

Aranos's tight grin deepens a brief moment as the formidable horned dignitaries approach, sit and speak in such a manner. The soldier holds his tongue, and maintains his straight backed, soldierly posture in line with the others, but dark eyes are bright with interest at the proceedings.

Kelarik's jaw twitches. Just once. His eyes are focused on the honor guard to watch them. Other than that tiny little twitch, there isn't a bit of emotion registering on his face, but the tiniest hint of cold approval sparks in his eyes.

Zutanos still says nothing, not sure exactly what to expect, but that wasn't it. His hand grips his spear a little tighter as he closes ranks to fill the gaps

Tyrsun comes out of the Firan camps.

Tyrsun has arrived.

Tyrsun is followed by Marsalos.

Marsalos has arrived.

Argin has just sat down at the table opposite two rather large and important looking Shamibelians.

Hralib looks almost amused at what Argin says, but Fudathim turns red faced. "Who is that?" he demands of Hralib. Hralib folds his hands neatly on the table and says, "Governor, may I present to you, Prince Argin Elianik." He apparently knows the Princes by face alone. "He is the great grandson of Elianos of --- Firans. He has ------ as Deputy Viceroy. He is -- reknown for offending their gods in some way with the starving of a ------" *Firan*

Cortik is standing slightly behind the table, hand upon his sword as he watches the the negotiations. But he turns his head when he hears his fellow Firans approaching and gives them a nod, glad to see both of them.

For his part, Fudathim looks unimpessed. "Hralib gave you a letter didn't he? Do you really want to delay things by making my officers go chase after their horses and cover up skulls? Those aren't even Firan skulls anyway. They are Vre. Why should you care?"

Donos remains standing, letting Argin take the central chair before he sits down to the left. He then begins to pour out cups of tea, passing them across the table and to the rest of the Firan soldiers, then advancing some cups across the table, letting the Shamibelians take them or not.

The Shamibelians do not take the tea.

Tyrsun and Marsalos emerge from the lines of Firan troops, approaching the tent side by side. Tyrsun strides confidently, but his expression is ruled with calculated impassivity. He moves to join up with the rest of the Honor Guard, slipping into place beside Cortik, holding his head high.

Kelarik doesn't take the tea, either. Eagle pride has to hold out for something.

Marsalos comes up towards the negotiation area near Tyrsun, walking slowly and with straight back. He comes to stand by the backdrop of the delegation, silent and watching. A slight nod to Cortik in return.

Aranos will take the tea thankyouverymuch! After all, any little effort to prove to the goats that its not poison, and they simply missed out on a nice spot of tea is well worth taking.

Argin looks perhaps momentarily impressed by Hralib's familiarity with him and his deeds. The prince lifts an arm and points at the remaining members of the mounted Shamibelian contingent. "Tell them they may work on removing the offensive symbols as we speak. I care because /we/ are a people of honor and respect for those that have died, regardless of race." The letter that is mentioned is pushed slightly to the side. "I will peruse that later, in private, where I will make a determination as to whether or not it is actually from my mother." He looks somewhat wryly at Donos as tea is handed out. Silly Bears. "The land you refer to is ours, and /you/ are the unlawful invaders." *Firan*

"Insolent basta--" Fudathim starts, but Hralib cuts in with, "It's of no consequence to us," he says, and then asks some of the officers to go about covering up the offending skulls. They look affronted, but Hralib focuses his eyes upon them and they go about doing it. Then it is Fudathim again. "The city of Ellish has been in Shamibelian hands for more years than you have been alive, Prince Argeen. And where are the other princes? Is this all that is left of Elianos' line?"

Donos raises up his cup of tea, tilting it towards the Prince, then towards the Shamibelians before he sips from it, a an appreciative sigh as he takes another swallow before setting it down and resting his hands on the table, vambraces grinding on the wood as he positions his arms...hands well back from the Shamibelian side of the table.

"Do you think we are foolish enough to gather all the descendants of Elianos in one place for your convenience?" Argin asks them. "No, I am not all that remains. It is simply my turn to prove my mettle at war. And as you can see by our progress this year..." He indicates their surroundings. "...I am doing fairly well at it." He pauses to let that sink in. "Ellish was a Firan city long before you invaded our lands. We have and will fight you until we take back what is ours." He smiles faintly. "And we are getting better."

Tyrsun exchanges a terse bundle of words with Cortik. One question and one answer is enough. Without peeling his eyes from the table, he curls one side of his mouth in amusement at Argin's retort, but so subtly that anyone that's not right next to him would miss it. His left hand moves unhurriedly, coming up to rest on the pommel of his sword. Just in case.

Donos looks towards the prince, nodding in agreement to his words before turning his head back towards the Shamibelians. His eyes flicering between Fudathim and Hralib, watching the interplay between them with close attention.

Cortik changes his deep angry frown into a smirk just for Argin's words of their success this year. But soon his frown returns and he looks at the two large Shammies carefully.

Marsalos watches the exchange unfolding with an impassive expression on his face, one brow with the subtlest loft. His body is quite still, posture neither tense nor overly relaxed.

Aranos had been wearing no frown to begin with, and he is not so secretive as others in the broad grin Argin's words provoke.

Fudathim fulminates, which gives Hralib a moment to cut in. "As a scholar of Firan history, this fascinates me, young Prince. I once sat, not far from here, with Elianos himself and his sons. We were negotiating for his brother's severed head, and the Gold Dragon medallion. I'm especially interested in your idea of the righteouesness of your war, that you own this city in spite of several generations of it having been under our control and yet you don't see yourselves as the aggressor. If that is your philosophical opinion, then it must also be your position then that the city of Sarkaran must be the Cockatrice's and that the city of Anarinuell must belong to the Griffons then. It is a marvel to me that your Gold Dragon soldiers follow you, given that you believe their suit as equally unjust as our own. Will you be mounting up against them to return those cities to who rightfully owns them?" Hralib asks. But Fudathim is clearly in charge here, and gives Hralib a 'what the hell are you nattering on about?' look. "Shut up," he tells Hralib. Then turns to Argin. "We have a clan leader of yours, and we have _her medallion_. We demand that you cease your hostilities."

Kelarik is also quite still, just enough so that the rise and fall of his chest provides the only real proof that he's not just a statue standing behind Argin and Donos. The mention of the clan leader causes his fingers to very lightly tighten on the haft of his spear, but he doesn't move any more than that slow, relaxed breathing and the slight movement of his eyes to continue watching that opposing honor guard closely.

Donos interjects at that point himself, turning to Argin "With your permission your Highness, as a Judge of the Republic..." He turns back towards Hralib "An interesting point of law and legal theory, but it's one that's covered by the Republic's own laws and political philosophies. Unfortunately for you old chap, you're not in the Republic. And so it falls down to..ohh, what's that phrase. Ahh yes, might makes right...I think at the moment...our army is well and truly in the right" He then turns to Argin, tipping his head. *Firan*

Cortik narrows his eye at Hralib's rant, for obvious reasons. But his brow furrows in confusion at the news of them having a clan leader... and a medallion. He's not sure how that works, still he remains quiet.

Marsalos apparently isn't giving any satisfaction of a reaction at the news. His eyes flicker between the Shamibelians, but aside from that neither face nor posture change.

Argin looks calmly at Hralib, "I imagine that our domestic struggles are much like your own, and I assure you that we are capable of handling our disputes without your assistance..." He pauses as Fudathim cuts in. "...And as much as I would enjoy debating the philosophical details with you, it does seem as if the Governor would rather talk purely business." He nods in acquiescence when Donos says his part, and then turns his attention to Fudathim. "At this point, you expect us to beg and grovel, willing to trade anything for the return of our clan leader and her medallion. This year, we're doing things a little differently." He glances sidelong to Donos for a moment, and takes a deep breath. "So, I have a proposition for you. You return our clan leader and her medallion, and all the other notables you have recently come into possession of, and we will allow you to withdraw from Ellish back into your own lands without killing any more of your soldiers." *Firan*

"Who is this tea-servant to speak to me?!" Fudathim rages. Hralib clears his throat. "Lord Governor, the tea servant is Lord Donos Ista Aldrik. He is the brother to their wicked High Priestess, and a General of some apparent renown having captured one of our fortresses I'm told. Though, he thinks of himself perhaps more renowned than he is, for he has styled himself not just General, but First General. It is possibly a matter of compensation since he hails from the emasculated Bear Clan from whence their whoreson Viceroy also hails."

Donos adds, with a mild smile. "Actually, I was given the title. It's not self-styled at all. Not bad though. A little missing on a number of points, but not bad." *Firan*

Aranos is unlikely noticed by any amongst all the notables. But the soldier bites his lip- not in outrage or indignity, but in an honest effort to avoid making any sounds of humor. He succeeds, the tight smile remaining his only concession to the developing goings-on.

Hralib smiles equally mildly at Donos and stays silent, for the storm that he knows is coming from his Governor. And this is when Fudathim slams the table with both meaty fists, spittle flying from his lip as he snarls at Argin. "And ---- I am violating your naked Clan Leader on the walls of the fortress for all ---- soldiers to see, when --- priests are using the Eagle medallion and all the memories it holds against you, will you still be so smug, boy?" *Firan*

Donos comments, mildly again before taking a sip. "Well, when our priests are burning your corpse..I think he might just be the slightest bit smug." He takes a sip, swallowing. "My, this really is excellent tea." *Firan*

"Get up, we're going," Fudathim says, standing abruptly.

Tyrsun gives the Shamibelians the benefit of clenching his empty right hand at the news of their bargaining chip, but his stare remains cold and dark, the tiny smirk fighting on to hold to his expression. His gaze drifts between Donos and Argin, but the muscling that's going on seems to ease him somewhat. He doesn't much seem to like Fudathim much, however. The stare the Governor gets is especially icy.

Hralib interjects, "My Lord Governor, perhaps--" *Firan*

"Shut up, Hralib. You know nothing about these dogs. We are going," Fudathim says.

It's a good thing Marsalos' hands are behind his back. His fingers clasp tightly, as does his jaw, but he is -very- still even as the two Shamibelians stand.

Argin remains calm, with hands folded on the table. The prince closes his eyes as Fudathim's spit hits him in the face, and he lifts one hand to wipe it away casually. "I imagine that when they see that, our soldiers will only be that much more inspired to knock down the gates and kill every Shamibelian they find within, just like we did last week." He doesn't move as the goats argue amongst themselves. *Firan*

Hralib sucks lightly at his teeth, his eyes going slightly more intense. "Why don't you start on without me. I will bring up the ----- You will not trust your back to them, obviously." *Firan*

Kelarik's fingernails gouge into the wood of his spear, but he says nary a word. His jaw is locked closed, and now he's so still that maybe he might not be breathing. But he's watching. Oh, is he ever watching.

"We will crush your army to paste!" Fudathim says. "We will grind down your bones to fertilize our soil! We will repel you off our walls, and chop up body parts, and catapault them into the faces of your soldiers. I will eat your liver for dinner."

Aranos yawns.

Donos starts to make a request "Perhaps you would leave..." He then goes quiet as Hralib speaks, a brief flicker of a smile across his features...it actually then develops into a grin as Fudathim begins to rant. *Firan*

Parosh hrms. He shall be the one burning, naturally. His eyes shift, glancing at Donos. Smugness, from Parosh? Never. He sips his tea, but doesn't grin nor smirk.

Fudathim starts to reach out across the table towards Argin, and it looks like blue sparks are coming from his fingertips. But at that moment, Hralib reaches up a hand, "Lord Governor," he hisses. And all the Shamibelians freeze. Some of them reach for their weapons, but it looks more like they are about to fight themselves than anything else.

Zutanos watches with satisfaction as Donos does not give in to anything but rather clearly states what the Republic wants. The younger Hydran however does continue to grip his spear just in case.

Fudathim glowers at Hralib, Hralib tries to look suitably cowed, while holding onto his arm. "Stay if you want," Fudathim says. "If they capture you, it's on your honor not mine."

Donos's hand takes up the tea cup, holding it cupped in the palm of his hand, eyes positively gleaming as he draws in a deep breath, as if to give a mighty shout..holding it...

Tyrsun keeps his hands right where they are. Off-hand resting on his pommel, and his right hand limp at his side. He's ready to draw should the need arise, but for now his posture is relaxed and his expression is calm.

All of a sudden, Argin switches modes. The prince stands abruptly, knocking his chair back, and levels a pointed finger at Fudathim. "Your words sound familiar! They sound similar to the words of some insignificant warlord I faced down just a few days ago! He too talked of crushing our army! But when I embarrassed him in front of thousands of your soldiers by slaying him like a dog, he stopped talking!" He pauses here, taking a number of deep breaths. "If you crush us, we will return next year. And the year after. And the year after that! It has been three generations since the time you sat across this table from Elianos, yet we still fight! It will be thirty generations hence, and I assure you we will still be fighting!"

Cortik stares at the Shammies and he clenches his teeth. He has to stare twice as hard as most others.

And with that, the Shamibelians start mounting up. One or two of them move up behind Hralib, to defend him and not leave him sitting here alone with the Firans. But he waves them off. "I can defend myself." Then, as they start to ride away, Fudathim hears Argin's shouts and turns on his horse. "Yes, generation after generation, you throw yourselves against our walls and die. We get more slaves, more hearts to sacrifice every year, and you get nothing. You've bankrupted yourselves for this city, and by the way, I'm going to enjoy raping your mother." Then he rides off.

Hralib furls his lips wryly. "Well. That went well." *Firan*

Marsalos' eyes flicker to the sudden movement among the SHamibelians, and curiously that seems to calm him back down a bit. His chin raises slightly, his hand coming to rest near his sword in quite a relaxed manner. His brow quirks with something like amusement as Fudathim heads off, then he looks back at Hralib.

Donos replies with "Well, he didn't even take the tea, what can you expect?" *Firan*

Argin turns a cold gaze back to Hralib, but he appears to have calmed down. "Your Governor has decided we will continue our assault as planned. Why do you remain?" *Firan*

Kelarik doesn't have to stare hard. There's really not many people left to watch. His eyes quietly fix on Hralib, just the slightest hint of curiosity visible to echo Argin's question.

Hralib says "If you're truly not interested in coming to reasonable terms about the ----- ---- medallion or the two women we have, then let me know now. I will only give you fair warning ---- what they will do is brutal." *Firan*

Aranos nods sagely. "It was good tea, too," the soldier comments simply, before going silent again as more important words are being voiced. *Firan*

Hralib says "I should also want to know if either of --- actually have the authority -- --------- the life of a clan leader, and a clan medallion. Lawful authority, that is. You might think on the repercussions back home, even though I understand that you wish to devalue the prisoners, of course." *Firan*

Argin returns his chair to its upright position, and retakes his seat quietly. He looks at Donos momentarily, and then back to Hralib. "Our army stands at the gates of Fort Zayes, and from there it is but a stone's throw to Ellish. You seek to stop us before we kill yet more of your soldiers. What do you propose?" *Firan*

Hralib considers. "I propose firstly that your High Priestess be --------- from the field. My Emperor wills it. Her presence lures him to act, and perhaps you would prefer to fight ------ to mortal. I know I would." *Firan*

Argin looks to Donos once more, "I see no reason why Her Honor would not agree to return to Anarinuell if it meant the safe return of Clan Leader Ania. Lord Donos?" *Firan*

Donos answers Argin himself. "He remained because unlike the Governor...who he doesn't directly serve. Hralib here..has broader interests than just Ellish and its lands. And he also recognises certain...matters which go to a..broader conflict I believe. And...well, it's like this old boy. I got ordered to take Ellish, don't stop, don't allow anything to stop me from taking Ellish. Now, look at it from my point of view. Our army is rolling yours up..and in a matter of days, we're going to take Fort Zayes. And then we're going to take Ellish itself. So the question you have to ask yourself is..do you want us to allow you to live at the end of this, or not? Yes, you claim to hold my step-daughter. You claim to have her Medallion. But the thing you don't realise..the thing none of you have realised is that we've finally woken up to a simple fact. We're going to win this war. And forty years of Firan death and suffering demand we do so. And you're not facing any of those other High Generals you've faced before. You're facing a unified army." He pauses in consideration and nods to Argin. "Return Ania and her medallion, and my sister will leave the field of war." *Firan*

Hralib smiles thinly at Donos. "You are quite right. My interests are broader than Fudathim's. You may win this ------- or ---- the next, but you won't win the war, Lord Donos. In fact, you might not _want_ to win the war. Because if you did, you would unleash a divine --------- that might very well expose some of your ------- to serious trial and tribulation. The war is ---- broader than this city to be sure. And whether or not I live or die is not of that much ----------- to me. For Fidelia leaving the field and some other small concessions, I will consider giving you back Lady Lucretia. Though it ----- will grieve me to do it. You'll note in her letters that she begs you to sacrifice her. -- leave her a slave. This is because she and I ---- gotten along quite well and she's really coming to be ---- devoted to me." *Firan*

Argin snorts, "My mother was never able to play the part of obedient wife for any one of her husbands. I find it hard to believe that she's had a change of heart." *Firan*

Hralib smiles at Argin. "I did not say that to taunt you, Prince Argin. I said it as a comfort to you. Did you not wish for --- to be pleasant and pleasantly treated? . - . as for your orders from home, my spies tell me otherwise. I don't think you do have the authority, and so when it comes to negotiating for the medallion and Ania, I should like to see something from the Clan Council. You should know that our priests are hot to get their hands on the medallion and absorb its secrets. They are quite convinced ---- have to kill her to make it work for them. I would not like -- see that happen and I shall do my best to make sure that it ---- not." *Firan*

Donos's head shakes at the response. "My sister quits the field, and you return the Eagle Medallion. And I'm..somewhat aware of those broader implications. Our gods talk to us, just as yours talks to you I'm sure. However, you are missing a simple fact. We counted the cost of forty years of warfare, the repeated raids you've inflicted, infants murdered, the deaths of the soul again and again. And we, as a people, said...no more. So, we're quite set on this...in fact, I think we're going to go claim back the Ticanee's lands afterwards. Who would think that a bottle and a sea voyage could change everything?" *Firan*

Hralib barks with laughter at Lord Donos. "Well played, my lord, but really." And then he stands. "I shall tell Governor Fudathim what --- have offered, and when he stops --------- I will send back a message. In the meantime, is there anything else you would ask of me?" *Firan*

Argin doesn't say anything else about his mother. "We are fighting for Ellish, and we will fight until we take it back. Whether that is this year or the next, do not expect us to stop." *Firan*

Donos adds, after a moment. "Ohh, and you have a mild problem there. The clan council cannot meet without my sister being present, one of those legal things again. Hmm...ahh yes, what's the quickest route to Fudathim's bedroom from the north eastern wall of Ellish?" *Firan*

Donos says "More seriously...When we take Fort Zayes, do you think your governor is going to become more reasonable? He must be a terrible strain on your patience." *Firan*

Hralib laughs again at Donos, and shakes his head. "You are quite amusing. I can see why the Bear Clan women like to ---- you under their thumbs. I hope --- will stay on as General. And as for you, Prince Argin, I believe --- might. But --- this year." He gets on his horse, and he starts off, "---- from the Clan Council please, we will have this done!" *Firan*

Tyrsun is looking a bit lost at this point. All this bartering and the wash of ripostes and counter-ripostes are putting him a bit on edge, but he stays firm, not budging from his spot. His sword hand drifts ever so slightly as Hralib climbs onto his horse, but he stills any supremely dumb impulses he might have quickly.

As soon as Hralib is off and over the hill, Argin jumps up from his seat, grabs the edge of the table, and flips it over, spilling the tea everywhere. Then, the prince grabs the nearest tent pole and rips it out of the ground, doing his best to destroy the entire meeting place as he takes out his rage.

Kelarik isn't reacting to the chatter, other than to watch coldly and evenly as Hralib begins to move off. And there's likely half-circle gouges in the haft of his spear. Argin's sudden burst of anger doesn't even seem to phase him right now. In a very quiet, quiet voice, he asks of Donos, "Permission to go pray, sir?" *Firan*

Donos remarks "Almost a pleasant chap. Yes, you can go pray. You're all under orders not to repeat what you heard here. Someone stay with the prince, I'm going to return to the army and let them know what happened." *Firan*

Kelarik lets out a little, quiet sigh. "Yes sir." His eyes drift to the others, obviously waiting to see who's staying... or if he needs to hang out and try to avoid being a target of princely ire. *Firan*

Tyrsun takes a step back, to make sure he doesn't get a tent dropped on him by Argin. Tented, as it were. His hand slips from the pommel of his sword, and his right hand grips the wrapped leather protectively as he scans the horizon for straggling Shami archers. "I'll stay," he tells Donos quietly. *Firan*

Donos has left.

Zutanos has left.

Cortik has left.

Marsalos does nothing at all, his eyes tracking Hralib until he's gone. He turns to head back without a word, having a scouting sortie to get set up.

[Weather Report] The sky is brilliant blue and cloudless, the sunlight is bright, and a brisk wind blows from the southwest.

Marsalos has left.

Parosh shall also stay! Indeed, he leans on his spear and watches cheerfully as the Shamibelians run away, making sure the Prince comes to no harm.

Welp, that's two people who're going to hang out with Argin the Angry. Kelarik nods once, obviously satisfied, then turns to depart. And to pray. He's got a lot of that to do right now. Stupid 'truce flag'. Shoulda thrown a spear through it. Grrrr.

Mustering Field

The grass of this broad field has been trampled down into nonexistence by the march of booted feet across it, leaving broad patches of hard, cracked dirt. There's a dry and dusty metallic scent in the air that tickles at the nose.

The sun burns bright overhead. The whisper of a breeze off nearby fields and hills is a blessed relief.

People Here: Aeryk, Agray, Akai, Alastor, Alessandro, Andreas, Arik, Arinsana, Balinda, Banian, Clarissa, Cortik, Dar, Donos, Eriden, Gemma, Ion, Jericho, Kael, Karana, Keeli, Kelarik, Marsalos, Melani, Niobe, Nisa, Norik, Rally, Sabria, Savaren, Srenni, Tanya, Tezzer, Thaddia, Treydan, Ulyn, Umaish, Veliana, Wakiro, Yacen, Zutanos

Stuff Here: Ironhide, the griffon, 1.5 fruitcakes, Laserbeak, the griffon, Mirage, the griffon, Kamili, the griffon, Frenzy, the griffon, Novius, the griffon, 162 iron arrows, Target

Kelarik comes in wielding a Republic Issued Iron Spear!

Aranos has arrived.

It's rather a good thing Melani cut in when she did. Ion was about ready to begin beating himself silly with his own iron helmet. So he simply nods, uttering a crisp 'Yes ma'am' before inhaling sharply and turning to Norik. "They've been negotiating some treaty or other. Surprisingly the Shamibelians haven't tried anything too sneaky just yet. We're waiting for Donos and the honor guard to return."

Donos returns to the camp, some of the Firan troops remain up at the tent. He lifts his voice, calling out towards the captains and squad leaders. "Pass this along to your units and men. I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that Their Governor Fuudeetheem is definitely insane and ranted like a madman. You know the thing, eat our livers, crush our bones, blah blah blah. So, they're not giving us Ellish back to save their lives. The good news is...no ceasefire. We're still at war..and that means we're going to rip them out of our fortress and see whether we can give spittleboy a heart attack." *Firan*

Jericho cheers Donos!

(And much cheering continued after that.)