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His friend looked back, and though he was helmed Ozan knew that his eyes were widening as he looked at the ruler of the Kharidian Desert. How could it be that he…no, it was impossible…

The guards swept over Ozan and Gielinor went dark.

31-Aug-2013 16:06:18 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 16:37:05 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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MISTHALIN

“Trolls are marching towards Keldagrim, your grace.”

Othello looked up from his breakfast with a blank stare. “Trolls?”

The messenger nodded. “Yes, your grace. It is said that they are organised.”

Othello took a bite of his bacon and pondered the implications. “Even an organised army of trolls could not hope to come out on this end of the Wilderness ready for battle…” He looked up at his advisor, Saulur. *You would have me concerned about the railway should Keldagrim fall.”

His advisor nodded. “Yes, my King. Lumbridge is a powerful stronghold, and your son masses more power there every day, but if it is taken from below the ground then we risk losing all our territory west of the River Lum in a matter of days.*

*Except Edgeville.”

Saulur sighed. “Except Edgeville. And, depending on how they’re feeling about you, the Barbarians at Gunnarsgrun..."

"True.” Othello took a sip of wine. "Keldagrim is strong, Saulur. If needs be, we can send supplies to make sure a siege would not be in the best interests of the trolls.”

“You’re not concerned that they might make a push for Burthorpe?”

“The White Knights have but a small portion of their strength there. They can hold the town for a while yet.” He looked up at his advisor. “What I am really concerned about is Al Kharid.”

The desert regions to the south of Misthalin had been in turmoil for a few months now. It was said that The Pharaoh of Menaphos had styled himself as Icthalrin, God of Death, and that all fighting men in the Kharidian Desert were flocking to his banner.

“Fifteen-thousand men, Saulur.” King Othello muttered. “How many more can he gather before this so-called God marches on Lumbridge?”

31-Aug-2013 16:06:28 - Last edited on 01-Sep-2013 13:00:32 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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“My King, he must first take Al Kharid-“

“Good Gods, man. We’ve given everything we can to that Emir, but he still refuses to side with us. If he throws in his men with Menaphos then I fear for us all.”

“That Emir plays his own game.” Saulur waved the messenger away. “Get out.” He took a seat opposite the King. “According to my men he sent a small group of warriors and mages southbound for Menaphos. They did not look to be on a diplomatic mission.”

“A raiding party?”

“An assassination squad.” Saulur took a sip of Othello’s wine. “If they’re caught, there’s not a single Kharidian among them.”

“A setup.” Othello shook his head. “It’s all very intriguing. If the Emir succeeds in killing The Pharaoh then he can take down the scattered forces of the Kharidian Desert and gain a lot of land. If he fails, then he can ally himself with The Pharaoh and take a chance at seizing Lumbridge.”

“Perhaps Asgarnia can help?”

“Perhaps. They fear a united Troll nation. We fear a united Kharidian army. To them, the former sounds more dangerous.”

“The world seems to lie in wait for the next great conqueror.”

“That it does.” Othello finished his breakfast and stood up to leave, already forming stratagems in his head.

31-Aug-2013 16:06:37 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 16:44:19 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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THE FREMENNIK PROVINCE

“WHICH WOMAN WANTS TO LICK THE BEER FROM THIS MAN’S LIPS?!”

The longhall went up in cheers as Chief Sigton smiled grimly and sipped at his ale. Barbarians danced on the tables and wrestled as they celebrated the mighty victory
of their raiding party, but those beside him merely muttered in wonder.

“How did Seigtun defeat the trolls, I wonder?* A warchief, Gunnak, asked aloud from the edge of the high table.

“My brother has always been a mighty warrior.” Sigton replied blankly. “He is a berserker at heart. No troll who comes that far into our lands will live for as long as Seigtun keeps watch.”

Warchief Seigtun, who would simply be known as Chief after Sigton himself died, was a formidable man. He roamed around the foothills of the Troll mountains and Keldagrim, making sure that nobody dared enter the Fremennik Province without his permission. The Trolls called him “Heartfire”. The Dwarves called him “Tallaxe.” Sigton called him brother.

The two of them had forged a mighty legacy across the Province, and barbarians from Gunnarsgrun to Lunar Isle travelled frequently to sing praises of the Great Chief and his Heartfire; banes of Trolls. Asgarnian diplomats asked him to send warriors across the mountains to liberate Death Plateau, and knight from Kandarin offered them more men in exchange for the lands they ruled east of the Baxtorian Falls.
All this, and the two twins were barely in their early twenties. Sigton smiled again, this time more warmly. “Bear Brothers!” The Barbarians in the longhall quickly fell silent. “Don’t exhaust yourselves drinking! When the Heartfire returns he shall wish to drink us all under the table fairly!”

Cheers rang loud in the hall, and Sigton cheered loudest of all. He turned left to speak with his cousin, Balvald, who had returned with the news of the victory and fifty men. “If what Seigtun warns is true, then we’re going to need a lot of Fremennik blood.”

31-Aug-2013 16:06:47 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 17:26:06 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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“Every drop of Fremennik blood is worth an entire body’s worth of Troll blood.”

Balvald (who was Sigton’s senior by a good fifteen years) grunted. “The Dwarves ought to put up a good fight, and with us there the Troll army will be broken and bloodied.” He chuckled. “Who knows, maybe we can take Keldagrim if we’re still strong by the end.*

Sigton did not respond.

A few minutes later, the longhall doors burst open. A man stepped in – young, large, with a mighty crop of auburn hair. His beard was cut short, highlighting his battle-worn features. His eyes, like Sigton’s, were a deep hazel. His right hand gripped his greatsword, and his left held aloft the head of a troll; the face contorted from its last scream.

“BEHOLD, WOLF CUBS, THE HEAD OF THE KING OF KANDARIN!” The longhall erupted in whoops and laughter as Seigtun tossed the head onto the central table. He leapt on after it and ran down the length of the room, shouting and hollering as almost every man in Relleka offered him a drink.

“Brother Heartfire!” Sigton roared just as loud as everyone else – yet despite the noise, Seigtun looked over as if his brother was the only one in the room. “Come sit to the right of me!”

Seigtun grinned and in a few long strides made it to standing in front of the table. He promptly sat on it, and took an apple from Sigton’s plate. “I’ll sit ‘ere, if yer’ don’t mind.”

Sigton laughed. “Alright, you've earned it.” The two of them clasped their hands and shook. “Go on, then.”

“What?”

“If this was any other day you wouldn't have rode back. Why’re you eager to come and feast?”

Seigtun’s eyes darkened. “Brother, the Trolls are smarter now. They’re like one of those Kandarin armies we see marching past Seer’s Village sometimes. I think they have a real Chief. Like you.”

“Nice compliment.” Sigton grunted, sipping at ale. “What do you think?”

31-Aug-2013 16:06:58 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 16:55:06 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

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“It can’t wait, Sigton. Every man in Relleka needs to leave by sunset tomorrow. We only defeated scouts, and there are signals that a bigger group are about to head down those hills any day now.*

*Every man?”

“Three thousand.” Balvald sniffed. “One thousand fighting women, too.” He took the apple from Seigtun’s hand and took a bite of his own. “Leaves a good fifteen ‘undred men and women unprotected, mind.”

Sigton thought about this for a second and realised that every warchief was watching him. “Balvald?"

"Aye?”

“You’ve traveled more than me and my brother put together. Can you ride again tonight?”

“Don’t ‘ave much choice.”

“Good. Take your fifty men and one hundred more, and ride out to every village you can find. Start on the eastern borders and set up a wagon train. Spread the word that Relleka is calling all those who follow the Fremennik Gods.” He leaned over to look at the three warchiefs sat on the other side of Balvald. “Sail to the Fremennik Isles. Tell those there the same. Take fifty men each.”

“And us?” A warchief to his right, Darlim, asked.

Sigton nodded. “Two of you are to take three hundred men and guard the crossings into Fremennik lands at The Outpost and Seers Village. If any Fremennik tries to leave, refuse them. If any man who is not of Fremennik origin tries to enter, turn them away. The other chief will take four hundred men and spread them out on patrols to make sure that nobody slips through. I’ll let you decide who goes where.”

They nodded, though the confusion was clear on their faces. They are wondering why. “Leave immediately. Pick any men or women that takes your fancy.” The three roared in approval and took their leave.

31-Aug-2013 16:07:24 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 17:24:08 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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Sigton watched them slowly start to gather up the men in the longhall. “And me, brother?” Seigtun asked. “I am eager to meet these trolls on the field.”

“Good. Take another fifteen hundred. Do with them what you would see fit, but ensure that Keldagrim is left on its own for the time being.”

“What will you do?”

“I will remain here, brother. The Kings and Chieftains of the Fremennik Isles will answer my call, and we will forge a legacy that none shall forget.” Sigton watched the crowds in the hall thin out. “Or die trying.”

31-Aug-2013 16:07:39 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 17:25:32 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

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KANDARIN

“Look around you, Shareen.” Bolren outstretched his hand as they walked through the East Ardougne Market. “It may be your last chance.”

King Gloupen Shareen paid no heed to the humans that surrounded him, for they paid none to him. It was surprisingly easy to pass unnoticed in the market – two Gnomish Kings, dressed like they should, and yet nobody saw them as anything remarkable when compared to a more common Gnome. Gloupen supposed that none of them really understood how big the Gnomish armies were. “You really think that Kandarin will fall?”

King Bolren, who was by now far older than any other member of Gnomish government, nodded. “The formation of Kandarin sent ripples of political waves across Gielinor. For a century it has stood, and I may be one of the few who remember the ramifications of its rapid growth. Tensions were raised, like rigging, high into a storm. And now that storm brings thunder, and lightning, and one of the ropes will break.”

Shareen respected Bolren as most Gnomes did, despite ruling the Gnome Stronghold, which was far more powerful than the southern village. “Which rope?”

“Alas, I do not know. I have memorized each a dozen times. The ogres to the south could attack the underpopulated southern region of Kandarin, prompting others to invade on all fronts and increasing the power of Gu’tanoth and Oo’glog, forming a mighty Ogre nation. Alternatively, the trolls in Troll Country could unite and take Keldagrim by storm, prompting a power vacuum felt from here to Misthalin – everybody in central Gielinor will have the opportunity to take another’s lands. Lord Drakan in the far east might cross the Salve somehow, and crush Misthalin. The Kharidian factions could unite, and take Misthalin.”

“Misthalin seems destined to fall.” Shareen muttered glumly.

“It would appear so.” Bolren looked at him. “Shareen, you are young, and have not seen true war. I urge you to prepare for battle.”

31-Aug-2013 16:07:49 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 17:28:38 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

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“Where?” Shareen shrugged. “Like you said, Bolren, the hammer could fall anywhere. I can’t afford to rush off one place then find out whoever has attacked wherever else.”

“I’m asking that you prepare an army for war with Kandarin.”

Shareen stopped and faced Bolren. “You’ve lost your mind, Bolren.”

“I am afraid it will be the only hope of our people. The Gnomish lands must stand united, but for that to happen we must take West Ardougne.” The two of them glanced over in the general direction of the soon to be setting sun. *This is, of course, if Kandarin is attacked. But it will be, eventually, I am sure of it. Empires will be born here.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Like I said, Shareen. Prepare for war. As for anything else…you are your own King. You only answer to yourself and the Gods.”

“And my people.” Bolren smiled.

“Come evenfall, I return to my village. Hazelmere has ventured from his den to seek an audience with me – I trust he sees where the destiny of Gielinor lay, for he hasn’t met with me on my own turf since we were boys.” He chuckled happily. “I will pray to Guthix that we meet again on happier terms.”

“Me too.” Shareen watched Bolren walk away, and turned back to venture north through the market again. Truth be told, he knew something that Bolren did*’t – trolls were venturing down into the Fremennik Province, where the natives had closed off the borders by land – though boats still brought news to the northern shores of Kandarin. A mighty host was answering the call of a man known as Sigton, who was ready to wage war. Under cover of darkness the Gnomes atop The Grand Tree could see Kandarin forces from the army camp nearby massing and shifting towards Seers village, which was in turn forcing the nearby tribes of Hill Giants west due to the surge in activity. This would undoubtedly be catastrophic for Northwest Kandarin, who would be cut off from all help as the giants took control.

31-Aug-2013 16:08:00 - Last edited on 31-Aug-2013 17:30:17 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

[#PHHB9IYFI]

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Of course, Shareen wasn’t about to say anything to anyone. He could easily inform Kandarin after the takeover by the giants, claim that he was ignorant of it beforehand, and conquer the lands for himself when Kandarin knew. His kingdom would double in size overnight. Of course, the King of Kandarin would be riled, and he would be much more powerful than poor old Shareen…but Bolren could quell him, for he was a respectable figure, and would see the intrusion as nothing more than a young Gnomish king acting on impulse. Of course, this would probably only delay war unless Kandarin had other matters to attend to…perhaps the ogres could invade Southern Kandarin? But they would need an incentive…something to prove that Kandarin would have trouble defending their lands…

Shareen stopped and rolled his eyes at his own blindness. The Fremenniks! They would see the Kandarin garrison at Seers as what it was - an understandable precaution – unless something tipped the scales - but what? Shareen made a beeline for the inn he had been residing in, ready for the long night of plotting ahead of him.

31-Aug-2013 16:09:48 - Last edited on 01-Sep-2013 13:09:06 by [#PHHB9IYFI]

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