The Speech The whiskey flowed quick and the Mead went down strong as Sons of the Gallovian Highlands battled the Daughter and Sons of the North in drinking contest after drinking contest, wild story after wild story, sober then drunk song after song. It was a celebration unseen in centuries, as ancestral rivals and old enemies buried Familial hatreds in common contest and a jovial comradery all because of one order. A summons from an old Comrade, who now sat at the head of the Great Lodge’s table. A towering, 6.9ft Url whose tattooed form and Oorl Gifted muscles were outlined in the Leather clothes beneath his silver and Grey Kiltach, its dual parts clamped together with a Wolf’s head made of Silver. The Url kept an easy smile, forgoing the Drinks of his comrades in place of tea mixed with Worm Fern he sat at the head speaking with his kinsmen and soldiers alike. He was happy yet incomplete though surrounded by Dearths, Northerners, and His fellow Trejis. He couldn’t help but feel hollow...the Contingent wasn’t complete. His own Dearth, was not among them and likely would not come to his summons. His father’s edict had been outcast from the village and likely the faithful of his dearth would not break with it and come to render him aid. Yet he would press on without them for he still had many capable warriors. As the feasting began to wrap up, the Url rose his Gallovian Black Bear head adorned with stern, stalwart authority as he gave a single deep Growl. At the growl, the noise begins to fade into silence as the celebrants turn to face the Url. “What a night it has been Brothers and Sisters. I hope you have all the energy to listen to me speak for a time, if not please drink more liberally it’ll soon be over,” The Url jested, his tone much warmer than the growl. There were a few scattered laughs “Many would say I have no need to tell you why we are fighting in Hadar,” he said growing serious, “They would advise all I do is pay well and give orders...yet I know the Warriors who stand in this hall. I lived with most of you for many long months in our campaigns, not a soul of you is a common Sell-sword who would leave your loved ones and your homes for coin alone. It would be a dishonor to all of you if I withhold my reasons while asking you to risk your lives.” The crowd give silent nods “You are Soldiers, faithful, Warriors of higher calling them mere Monetary Scoundrels. You are men from the Strongest Dearths of the Highlands,” he paused for a moment stopping himself from including his own dearth in his words, feeling a slight pang of regret as he continued, "You have enacted the harsh wills of Gods such as Alu, Basthur, and the Unionist Spirit for Decades and have hunted beasts unknown to the Wider World, the hunt and the kill are not simply past times for us but a part of our souls.” The men of the dearth gave loud cheers raising glasses and downing their whiskeys in unison. The Url turns to the Ranks of Fur clad Velheims, “ You are the Skaggers and Warriors of the North, whose ranks my Mother trained, fought, and eventually ascended from as she came to Gallovia. Yet she never forgot her brethren in arms, instilling in myself a Fervor born of Faith and Rage but also a love of the North and a joy in fighting by the side of Fellow Northman for Soldi and for the Gods. Your Fervor and Skill puts fear in the heart of the Strongest of enemies and your control of the Gods rage surpasses the abilities of even the most regimented of The Regalian Armies.” A loud chorus of war cries and shouts, sounded from the Velheim as ale and mead was swiftly put away as if competing with the Gallovians drinking. The Url turns to the Crowd in its entirety, “Then there are my Kinsmen, Wolves of the Treji Pack. Plentiful yet scattered hailing from all faiths and races, yet each of us still greets even the most far flung of our clan with warmth and love. We have created Feuds and Families, we have forged the will to fight bloody wars and forge lasting peace, given life to faiths of all kinds and torn down those faiths which destroy ours.” “From where does our unity stem, where does our power hail. All Proud of their Name and Clan, say with me our binding Law,” The Url says his expression hardening into the mask of a Url somber. All through the Crowd, the Silver Wolf’s head tattoo began to glow in a vast rainbow of colors. Its glow, illuminating many Ailors, several nelfin, and a young Qadir man sitting at the left hand of the Url. The Treji’s spoke with the conviction of those born and adopted into a legacy, “ Blood Before Oaths, Blood before Gods, Blood before everything. By this Oath.” The Url gave a wide, sharp toothed grin, fueled by the energy of the Trejis, “By this Promise we are bound, by its hand we shall protect our kin, and with its unity we shall change this world.” The Url gave a wide, sharp toothed grin to the crowd, “We are a scattered bunch, some of us are unionists, others followers of Old Gods, others the Old Fayth Pantheons. I myself now serve Basthur and the Union of Fire. Yet regardless of our differences there is one stance upon which we can all agree: that the corruption which the void brings upon Aloria itself shouldn’t ever be permitted to expand. Though I wish to examine and understand this dark faith and even show consideration to its Legal Practitioners, letting the Void’s Practitioners commit atrocities is something I can never permit.” The Url muttering a few incantant like prayers conducts the paint dust from his pouches into a cloud. Swiftly painting the Ceiling with a rough map of Hadar, he snapped his finger animating it as he continued. “The Sendrass or as I call them Void Allars. Have invaded sovereign Digmann Territory, attacking the inhabitants and doing upon them the atrocity expected of void armies.” The map showed a black rot sweeping up from the south, corrupting the land as it pushed on. The Warriors looked upon the rot with a potent anger, clenching fists, mugs, and blades at the sight of the Void’s heretical touch. “Now in this battle the obstacle of Allar regeneration must be made clear to all of you. When we the Void Allars every blow taken must be to the head or heart. If you can sever the head or safetly impale the heart, do it,” the Url says, conducting the dust to shift into images of various disgraced Allars he met in Regalia. As he snaps, the allars are suddenly dismembered but they show little care or truly even pain as arms are severed and legs chopped from their bodies. The looping image shows a quiet arrogance from the Allars knowing they would heal even if rendered limbless. “This is the reaction of most Allars in Regalia, I personally took the limbs of a few cowardly sort. They didn’t give a single fuck, Perhaps they were simply hardened bastards or insane but we can not be certain. If the common alchemist can withstand this without showing pain, under no circumstances can any of us expect the Hardened Warriors of the Void to feel pain. Expect them to only fight harder with each limb taken,” The Url says his voice stern, emphasizing his words. The crowd looked upon the images with slight horror, the Highlanders realizing the potential of an enemy such as this. Yet the skaggers seemed less surprised, something of understanding in their gazes at this pain reduction yet they also looked grim upon this revelation. “Now to answer why I have called you here to defend another nation within the empire not even holding many Worshippers of our faiths. Since the Clicker Crisis, I’ve watched this empire burn, our brethren put to sword and flame Heretic Wardens...watched Sanguine burn our city and kidnap Gallovian Nobility…I experienced betrayal the hands of beasts which were thought Kin of myself and all Velheim...my title of Harbinger and my mark to Alu was stripped from me by my father because of weakening Resolve,” the Url touches the bandages covering the missing section of flesh once bearing the mark, his expression turning to cold steel as he shouts, “No More!” "No More, will I watch others risk their lives while I remain safe with my Wife and Daughters No More, shall I follow a path that is not my own and shouldn’t be mine. Damn Penance, Today I forge my own faith beginning with this Sacrifice of The Void Allars and progressing with Codification through this war fought with all my brethren at my sides. Together, we shall help this Empire rise from the Ashes and earn the rewards due Heros,” The Url said his voice growing more passionate and fervent with each word. The Urls' speech turned into a roar, "Who shall stand beside me, who shall fight with me as kinsmen in blood and blade, who will seek Glory and Gold as we purge the Heretical Monsters who seek the destruction of Allar Civilization and this empire!!” The Hall erupted into an uproar of shouts and cheers as the entire hundreds strong force stood in turn. First the Highlanders, Kiltschas of all colors and Villages displayed proudly in the torchlights light. As out of the mass a Ailor in his late thirties steps out dressed in the same silver Kiltach as the Url. “I Calembour, Harbinger of Alu and Elected representative of the Silver Wolf Dearth of Alu’s Lakes,” he announced, the Tattoos to Alu across his form glowing a soft blue, “Our Dearth has voted in favor of breaking with the decision of our High Harbinger...We shall serve under you Fallen of Alu. We shall give you the chance to prove, a Wolf remains instead of a Weak Creaker which serves at the Void’s call.” The Ailor spoke with a confidence born of Diplomacy, his gaze though sharp upon the url only seemed to add credibility to his words, yet...the Url got a quiet sense of reservation from the man as if he was not fully behind this decision. The Url nods, “I thank you Brother of the Silver Wolves, I have missed having my Dearth around me in these times.” Next from the mass of Velheim, a man and women stepped forward from the Furred mass of heavy set warriors. They spoke as one, “ the Skaggers and non-skaggers of the Velheim forces have decided to serve under you. You are half a Velheim but lead well and we shall follow. Know this, the Skaggers are fewer now Commander use us well and prove even a Second hand version of our training is enough to make Good Warriors. For the Gods and for Honor!” The Velheim forces gave a rousing war cry to end the sentiment before going quiet, solemnly set to the task ahead. “I shall, now Staagir, Reverend, and…”, he looks to Calembour with a solemn expression, "Harbinger of Alu. Step forward, Let us all pray as one before we fight as such.” The Staagir, local reverend, and Caelbour stepped up and turned to the crowd. Some of which bent head and clasped hands, others closed eyes, and some simply looked into the fire or the night to face the symbols of their Gods. The Staagir began in Skodje, “ Varfal honored God of War and Battle.” The Reverend began in common, “Spirit, Hallowed Beacon of light upon Aloria.” Calembour begins in a mix of Old Ceardian and common, “Basthur, God of Strength master of the Axe. Alu bringer of Death and Plague, the Arbiter of all life.” “We pray for strength from your hand, so as to make our men and women strong. So our fervor might be great, our Emotions a potent fire, and our control as unbreakable as our Shield walls. Watch us and lend your strength to our own so we might fight as true Warriors against the weakness of our enemy’s feral ways,” the Staagir Continued. “We pray that your light might be glorified through our strength, so that even our comrades. May contribute to the Great Way, through service to the Empire and Aloria. Watch over us, so we might shine bright in honor of the strength of The Emperor, the Herons, and the Church,” continued the Reverend. “We pray mercy may flow from Alu, that for ever head taken, ever beast slain we shall give faithful Sacrifice to your glory. As your Harbinger oh Alu, I shall be the Wraith that stalks the night and the blade that severs the lives of your enemies. So shall the men with me become Wraiths dedicated only to the task you have commanded and which Basthur will aid the Obliteration of the Void Cursed,” Continued Calembour. “Watch over us and if we are to fall let it be taking the Enemy with us. Let us all die with Skodi as true Devouts against this enemy of Heresy and Atrocity!”, the Staagir said, finishing with a fervent call to the Gods. “Let us become extensions of your Will, So that we might all give our lives if need be to ensure the Empire’s safety and push back the Darkness. Let any man who falls, dine in The Everwatch among loved ones, rewarded in Paradise for their immeasurable Sacrifices. Oratario Paean,” the Reverend finishes. “If we fall it shall be with Honor, we shall rejoin that well of Knowledge and take our eternal rest. By this, I harbinger Caelbour declare a Hunt upon the Sendrass, let all who resist Alu’s will be sacrificed,” he holds his dagger aloft. Its runes glow dark black in confirmation of his words, before returning to their Ethereal Blue as the Highlanders and Old Gods Worshippers Cheer. The Unionists simple say, “Oratario Ode.” The Old Fayth worshippers, give a respectful silence to their Staagir quietly prepared for what was to come. The Url prayed quietly to himself as the Qadir to his side was silent, “Help us fight well oh Basthur, first and mightiest of Urls, embodiment of our strength. Goddesses of Flame, help me protect these brothers and sisters through War and through destruction . Lend me fire and flame, Blade and Axe so I might protect these kinsmen as we burn bright and strike down Corruption with Steel and Strength. By your powers, I strengthen and by my strength I serve.” With that the celebration ended, for the War was to come
