Terror in the Night
EM Seppo

Aldrich, shivering from the cold night, stood in the middle of some nondescript ruins. Scratching his head, he looked around lacking the memory of how he had reached there or where exactly there was. The nearly full moon in the clear night sky failed to reveal any other person.

“Haaiiil, anyone out there?”

As he walked forward, the sense of the cool grass made him realize that he was not wearing his boots. Quickly, reaching to his side, he found no sword either. He cursed to himself as he thought about explaining the loss of his standard issue sword to his superior. Deciding that any such future explanation is the least of his worry right now, he scanned the ground to look for something he could use as a weapon to defend himself.

You are safe, young guard. Atleast, for now…

Jumping back, Aldrichlooked up in the direction where the hoarse voice had came from.

Whose there? Reveal yourself!

Reveal myself? Soon, but I doubt you would fancy that.

Suddenly, a mist started moving into the ruins with an unnatural speed.

You and I have much to talk about, young guard. I have tasks for you that need to be done.

Taking a deep breath, Aldrich puffed his chest to put up a show of bravado,

I demand that you reveal yourself.

He continued, before his voice cracked from fright,

Tasks, what tasks? I am a Royal Guard of Britannia, I don’t perform tasks for voices cloaked in the dark.

By now, the mist had surrounded him completely. It was so thick that he could barely see his own hands. Just then, he was gripped by his shoulders, and something whispered in his ears in a most foul voice,

STUPID BOY! If I wished, I could break you into half right where you stand!

Then, pushing him to the ground, the thing screamed at him seemingly from every direction…

RUN NOW, but I will return. You cannot resist me forever.

Scrambling up, Aldrich ran as he jumped out of his cot straight into the wall of his very own room.

OUCH!

Groaning, he found his entire body soaking in sweat. Forcing a half smile, he tried to convince himself,

It’s quite alright! It was only a nightmare!

Little did he realize, that at that exact moment, several others across the known lands were waking up with the same nightmare.

Note: This fiction begins the new EM event arc on Baja. Over the next several months, keep an eye out for events that will test the resolve of all. Tentative dates of September events related to this arc are:

Saturday, September 3rd, 3:00 PM PST

Saturday, September 17th, 3:00 PM PST

“There Be Pirates.” The Chimera Raids Britannian Merchant Ships.
Valek Typhoon

Word has reached us that no less than eight ships – 6 Britannian Merchant Galleons and 2 Warships – were lost or captured this morning.

Survivors of the incident claim to have been assaulted by a crew of dark skinned pirates in control of a dragon. The loss to Crown Traders and Merchants is reported to be rather …substantial.

“Batten down the main sail!” The voice of the Captain roared over the waves. “we’re gaining distance – vere port! prepare to broadside!”

Three hands readily followed the orders, the middle aged man, Ian, hired on as pilot twisted the wheel to the captains commands. While Argis a man hailing from the desert island of Nujelm, manned the Port side cannons. The third, Brighton, a soldier for hire picked up from the Magincian docks readied his potions and broadsword.

But the final member of todays crew was curled up at the base of the mast. A creature that at first look seemed to be a pile of sinewy ice and snow. If it weren’t for the bursts of freezing breath exerting from two black holes one would think it were just that.

Two piercing gold eyes opened to meet the captains, a hidden message between the two as though telling the dragon to ready itself. The Wyrm unfurled from its position, standing as tall as the mast of the Chimera.

“Boys we’ve let these sea’s be calm for far to long. Let them know – There be Pirates! Let the people know The Chimera rules these waters!” The captain called to his men, being met with a harty cheer before the cannons rang out.

The merchant ship was fast, at tokuno skitter one frequently used by these Britanian merchants, its speed was top notch but that was all the ship had going for it.

“Argis Fire!”

You can read the entire piece here.

A Prisoners Journal
EM Seppo

The following journal was recovered from the orcish laboratory. The author went by the name of Tomás Pickett.

These are the events of the days since my capture:
Afternoon, Day 3: Sitting in this corner for the past two days, wondering if orcs really do eat humans alive, it was a pleasant surprise when an orc named Jogug gave me the writing materials from my rucksack. I have decided to make the most of this opportunity by writing this journal. It is not that I have given up hope of being rescue, it’s just that no one knows that I need rescuing. My family do not expect me back from my travels for a full month, and no one was with me at the time of my capture. Considering the circumstances, I am proud of the fact that I have not lost my composure.

Evening, Day 3: Ugh, now I know why orcs are not known for their cuisine. My meal consisted of scraps of what was identified as Bristly Grunting Thing, followed by few grunts. Normally I enjoy a good wild boar, but this was repulsive. Yet, I am glad not to be the one in the cooking pot. Jogug even discreetly passed me some beer which was not half bad. Curious how one can enjoy moments of comfort even in the darkest hour.

Morning, Day 4: *drops of blood cover the page* Bloody orcs! Woke up with a kick to my stomach. Before I know it, they cut my arm and let my blood drip into some kind of a vial. stoped the bleeding with a bandage afterwards, bless his soul.

Afternoon, Day 4: They have setup what seems to be an alchemy lab in here. I never thought orcs were capable of such advanced science. But, the most baffling thing is that they got my blood in the vial right up there with bubbling flasks and heaps of blackrocks. What in the world is going on!?

Evening, Day 4: Jogug has been taking heat from the other orcs for fixing me up this morning. If he was not the biggest of them, I am afraid it would have been much worse. I got my first glimpse of the clan leader (warbozz) this evening. A big brute by the looks of it.

Morning, Day 5: A hooded rider on a black horse arrived. Whatever brief moment of joy I felt on seeing another human, it fled when I felt her aura. I knew I was in the presence of something sinister. All the other orcs seemed to be afraid of her, even the warbozz. The stranger walked straight to the lab, ignoring my existence. Barking some orders, that I could not make out, she brought out a vial from her robe. The contents of which she mixed to the potion that the orcish alchemist had already prepared… with my blood in it! Then turning around, she marched out and jumped on her horse to ride away. I hope that is the last I see of the hooded stranger and by the looks of it, the orcs seem to feel the same way.

Afternoon, Day 5: This afternoon brought a strange sight. More than two dozen orcs lined up in front of the warbozz. Jogug amongst them. Each one of them were given a bottle filled with the potion prepared earlier. Then, they proceeded to thump their chests in a show of bravado before marching out. Jogug seemed quite subdued. I got the feeling that he was not enthusiastic about what was happening. I certainly was not enthusiastic about seeing him leave. I am afraid that this bodes ill for my immediate future.

Night, Day 5: Woke up to a blood-curling shriek from the warbozz. It seems that he had a nightmare. I did not think that orcs could have nightmares. Feeling quite hungry, no one bothered to share any food with me last evening. How I miss Jogug. Sigh, how I miss my family and friends.

Morning, Day 6: Blooodddy hell. They cut me up again to take more blood from me. Pleading for a bandaid only got me a kick in the stomach and a finger in the direction of a giant stag. Apparently, I am to be replaced by the stag. Bloody orcs!

The Magincian Declaration of Independence. Delivered to the Cities of Britannia.
WarderDragon

Note distributed throughout the Eastern Britannian Cities, as well as Luna, Hearthfire, Dawn and the Isle of Zanthes.

Four winters have passed since Magincia burned.

Four winters since the Magincians – in our so called Pride – ignored the spectre of death stretching across our western shore. Four winters since the hubris of our elders prompted them to tend the Autumn fires rather than send men to guard the Dark Portal. Four winters since devils – born of malevolence and sentient sin – poured into our homes to murder our loved ones.

It has been four years since the Britannians – in their Virtue – arrived to loot and pillage our Isle. And now they are threatening to do it again.

We have spent years wandering from place to place. Searching for a new home. Our Exodus. Our diaspora. We were beggars as men feasted in Trinsic. Forced to become Gladiators and Prostitutes in J’helom. We were made to toil as slaves for masters in Yew. Called heathens and witches in Minoc.

We have waited for the time when Fate would smile upon us again and allow us to return to the Isle. Watched as Queen Dawn ignored the declaration of Anon and declared our charred Isle as her own.

It was not until the defeat of Virtuebane – and the institution of the New Britannian Government – that they cared enough to restore Magincia. And even then it was a ruse. One to award parcels to the wealthiest collectors and aristocrats. We Magincians have had to fight for what we have now.

Your Britannians – men such as Elladan – would have us living his interpretation of Virtue. Humble. Submissive. Living in squalor as Shepherds or Farmers. Singing the praises of a King who abandoned Britannia.

His Virtues. Not Ours.

And now Fig brings a Blockade to our Isle. He did a talented job of turning himself into the victim last night. In the morning ships surrounded the Isle. Blocked in the Magincian Trade Fleet and prevented it from moving. He placed the Pilots of his Battle Fleet behind the cannons and aimed them for the Sea Witch. And when we called him out on it, he claims he was just there to trade?

How dare we question his actions.

I confess Valek and I reacted poorly. Undiplomatically. But we have families on the Isle to consider. Wives and children. And when someone who is so willing to shed our blood launches a fleet for our harbor and then feigns innocence, we are going to be a bit indignant.

We are an Isle of Craftsmen. Sailors. Tradesmen. Magi. We are an Isle who values freedom of thought and religion. We will not accept cannons aimed at our homes. We will not be made to submit.

It is with that I again declare us a Sovereign Magincia. It is with these words we rededicate this the Isle of Pride.

Sincerely,

Dante of House Lamperouge.