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The Insidian Legion
The not too distant sound of steel tools echoing off stone permeated the air as men and women holding chalices and goblets, filled to the brim with drink, looked outwards to the walls that were nearing completion. They conversed amongst one another as they meandered their way around Acrimoth Castle's highest battlements; some tracing their fingers across the meticulously carved patterns hidden within the many merlons and crenels which bordered the roof. Others gathered around the tables set up around the roof, bottles and barrels of liquor accompanied by trays of food adorned the wooden tables' tops. In the middle of the roof, a large table sat with less than a dozen people seated around it. Silver trays and obsidian plates strewn about the table left only with scraps and skeletons of what surely had been a grand feast.
The man at the head of the table let out a short sigh before passing the parchment he had been reading aloud, to the man to his left. "They seem to have a good sense of humor, what do you all think?"
"Barbarians, the lot of them." Necimus stated before taking a large swig of ale from his mug.
"Some, though I think it's more appropriate to call the lot of them a loose grouping of barbarians, tribes, a decaying kingdom, and uncivilized elves." Cyr paused for a moment, taking a sip of mead from the goblet in his hand. "I have a hard time seeing why the elves decided to join the lot, it's not exactly a profitable choice. Perhaps their leader had a tad too much to drink one night and thought of having mercy on the tribes they'd been robbing in all their skirmishes."
"How long do we suppose this little charade of theirs will last?" King Vosudon asked, swirling the ale within his goblet around as he watched his lords and his guests discuss the hilarious concept.
"Well, as soon as the elves realise their stupidity, I expect the little group will collapse. I give them two weeks, one for the elves to continue believing in the nonsense they agreed to, and the second for them to wake up to reality." Valdemar stated, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.
Cyr chuckled heartily, "Without the elves, I give them a month. Wyvern has been in a state of decay for long enough that it's really no surprise their remaining knights have joined the rabble. When it finally falls into complete ruin, I expect the knights will denounce their vows and join one of the tribes."
"Where do they get off calling themselves knights? What king have they made their vows to?" Vixar asked, as he poured another glass of wine.
"They're barbarians, I'm sure they heard someone call themselves a knight and thought it was an interesting new word." Necimus remarked, picking at some leftover meat on his plate with a knife.
"The tribes are more than likely the ones who came up with the name, we can only assume they chose their colour to be the opposite of someone else, they are simple minded people after all." Cyr took one last sip from his goblet before placing it on the table. "Maybe the elves joined in order to educate them, should that be the case then I must applaud their leader for his goodwill."
"So, friends, what shall we call ourselves for their amusement?" King Vosudon asked, looking to his guests.
"It should be rather simple, we need them to be able to say it at the very least, hardly expect most of them to be literate." Cyr jested.
Two of the main guests at the meeting stood up and approached Vosudon, being caught by surprise he leaned back in his chair and looked at a hand that appeared out of nowhere. Standing up slowly and placing his goblet down on the table quickly he took the outstretched hand to form a handshake.
"My name is Visarovich, I am the leader of the northern men. This is my right hand, Anthon." Anthon nodded, shaking Vosudon's hand as well before returning to a disciplined stance.
"We from the north have come to you to offer our friendship. Together we can smite this joke of an alliance."
Thinking for a moment, Vosudon picked his drink back up from the table but stopped before it could reach his lips. A wide grin spread across his face before taking a long draft. Picking up his quil, Vosudon wrote the words "The Insidian Legion," on a spare piece of parchment and held it up. Those still seated cheered their approval. Turning to Visarovich, His grin spread from ear to ear as he stretched his hand out once again. Visarovich taking it and returning the expression. Turning back to his guests, Vosudon raised his hand into the air and forced the council to return to silence.
"Let us begin."
This is a formal post Announcing the alliance between The Insidian Supremacy, and USSR. It depicts a scene in which the two parties hear of the ridiculous formation of the barbarous "Black Knights," and their weak declaration upon both of them.
@Edrom @Visarovich @Morbytogan @Ieso @Viscar @65jes89 @MDJTHEHERO @Wooperr
The not too distant sound of steel tools echoing off stone permeated the air as men and women holding chalices and goblets, filled to the brim with drink, looked outwards to the walls that were nearing completion. They conversed amongst one another as they meandered their way around Acrimoth Castle's highest battlements; some tracing their fingers across the meticulously carved patterns hidden within the many merlons and crenels which bordered the roof. Others gathered around the tables set up around the roof, bottles and barrels of liquor accompanied by trays of food adorned the wooden tables' tops. In the middle of the roof, a large table sat with less than a dozen people seated around it. Silver trays and obsidian plates strewn about the table left only with scraps and skeletons of what surely had been a grand feast.
The man at the head of the table let out a short sigh before passing the parchment he had been reading aloud, to the man to his left. "They seem to have a good sense of humor, what do you all think?"
"Barbarians, the lot of them." Necimus stated before taking a large swig of ale from his mug.
"Some, though I think it's more appropriate to call the lot of them a loose grouping of barbarians, tribes, a decaying kingdom, and uncivilized elves." Cyr paused for a moment, taking a sip of mead from the goblet in his hand. "I have a hard time seeing why the elves decided to join the lot, it's not exactly a profitable choice. Perhaps their leader had a tad too much to drink one night and thought of having mercy on the tribes they'd been robbing in all their skirmishes."
"How long do we suppose this little charade of theirs will last?" King Vosudon asked, swirling the ale within his goblet around as he watched his lords and his guests discuss the hilarious concept.
"Well, as soon as the elves realise their stupidity, I expect the little group will collapse. I give them two weeks, one for the elves to continue believing in the nonsense they agreed to, and the second for them to wake up to reality." Valdemar stated, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.
Cyr chuckled heartily, "Without the elves, I give them a month. Wyvern has been in a state of decay for long enough that it's really no surprise their remaining knights have joined the rabble. When it finally falls into complete ruin, I expect the knights will denounce their vows and join one of the tribes."
"Where do they get off calling themselves knights? What king have they made their vows to?" Vixar asked, as he poured another glass of wine.
"They're barbarians, I'm sure they heard someone call themselves a knight and thought it was an interesting new word." Necimus remarked, picking at some leftover meat on his plate with a knife.
"The tribes are more than likely the ones who came up with the name, we can only assume they chose their colour to be the opposite of someone else, they are simple minded people after all." Cyr took one last sip from his goblet before placing it on the table. "Maybe the elves joined in order to educate them, should that be the case then I must applaud their leader for his goodwill."
"So, friends, what shall we call ourselves for their amusement?" King Vosudon asked, looking to his guests.
"It should be rather simple, we need them to be able to say it at the very least, hardly expect most of them to be literate." Cyr jested.
Two of the main guests at the meeting stood up and approached Vosudon, being caught by surprise he leaned back in his chair and looked at a hand that appeared out of nowhere. Standing up slowly and placing his goblet down on the table quickly he took the outstretched hand to form a handshake.
"My name is Visarovich, I am the leader of the northern men. This is my right hand, Anthon." Anthon nodded, shaking Vosudon's hand as well before returning to a disciplined stance.
"We from the north have come to you to offer our friendship. Together we can smite this joke of an alliance."
Thinking for a moment, Vosudon picked his drink back up from the table but stopped before it could reach his lips. A wide grin spread across his face before taking a long draft. Picking up his quil, Vosudon wrote the words "The Insidian Legion," on a spare piece of parchment and held it up. Those still seated cheered their approval. Turning to Visarovich, His grin spread from ear to ear as he stretched his hand out once again. Visarovich taking it and returning the expression. Turning back to his guests, Vosudon raised his hand into the air and forced the council to return to silence.
"Let us begin."
This is a formal post Announcing the alliance between The Insidian Supremacy, and USSR. It depicts a scene in which the two parties hear of the ridiculous formation of the barbarous "Black Knights," and their weak declaration upon both of them.
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