Dissolution of the WotN Confederation

[Lethwin Far Seeker]

In ages past the confederation served well to win wars against those who would despoil the North.  We won wars with sword, quill, and determination.  In this age however there are no southron warbands come to stain the snow.  Many realms that once were, have since perished under the sword and many more have fallen to the great Ayufkay plague.  Indeed our own court has been decimated by the sickness and the men who won their spurs in the grassy fields of Fenada are now long gone.  Those men took hold of a realm spreading from the motte and bailey of Almerra to the icy crenelations of Ismirala, but those men are not now here to reside over the lands betwixt.  In light of this and other causes it shall be that the Kingdom of Mithrim and likewise that of the Hounds will now govern themselves independently from one another, though still in friendship.  Furthermore many of the lands conquered in wars already creeping beyond the edges of memory will be forfeited to any aspiring lord or band of men that may be fit to take them.

Thus for the last time I sign under this title,

Lord Warden Finnian Tiercel

P.S. Taser also shall reign a reformed "Tasa clan" when he is not being swarmed by a horde of gothic huskarls.

[Bryggan]

"Humph", Bryggan muttered after the scribe had finished reading the proclamation.  " I guess without me to ward the north against, they kinda lost their purpose."  He then took another bite of mutton, chewed and swallowed.  "They were a bunch of bloody do-gooders, and I, for one, won't miss em."

He scratched his beard and looked down at the table.  "Still", he said, "the most valiant and and honourable men I've fought against."  Bryggan grabbed his horn of mead, the meagre ration the empress would allow him, and downed it in one swallow.

"Meh," he grunted, "I will miss them."

[poonerplox2]

Well now the real fun begins for the old Warden Factions

[Taser]

I might have been a late comer to the WotN confederation but it was good fun while it lasted.

"Well, that's it then." Taser said after reading the scroll Finnian had sent out to the members of the confederation. "What will we do now sire? Stay with the wardens or join HoC?" his steward Steward asked. "Well Steward the steward... neither," Taser replied.

"But sire. That may be unwise. We may have the might of the taser but we are few."Steward remarked.

"Nonsense. We are tasers and we bear the mark of many great men, women and appliances when they tried to kill us and a few times succeeded. Nasty times those." Taser said shaking his head. "But no we reform Tasa Clan. WotN was kind to take us in and listen to our suggestions then do what they wanted anyway just like we did to them. But now we can skip the first part and do the second. Tis simpler I think. Plus I don't know why Finnian left us out in the declaration. Perhaps we snubbed him too many times in 'ages of empires'."

Taser stood and stared out the window noticing it had been open the whole time. A raven watched him for a moment before flying south. "Perhaps I will join you raven... perhaps I will."

"What was that sire?" Steward asked. "Nothing Steward. Now get the word out. Reform the army, make them do 2 pushups this time instead of 1 and clean up the banners. They will be needed soon."

"Of course sire." Steward the steward said before departing the room and hating the fact Taser renamed him Steward just for the pun.

[Tristan_of_Erzoth]

I may have only really known the Wardens as foes on the battlefield, but they were men of valor and strength. Always sucked to be on the opposite end of your guys swords(or spears in HoC's case). May chadz guide you in your future endeavors.

[Nightingale]

*An icy chill from the tundra bellowed into the main hall; reminding the duchess of her long since distance past. With the raven scroll in hand, she gently rubbed her thumbs across the seal of  the Honorable Finnian Tiercel Warden of the North.

*After trying to re-position the scroll in every way possible.*
"Damnable vision..." she grumbled... "Castellen? What is this word here?" *pointing to the first line of the scroll*

"Ma'dame, that is confederation, would you like me to read the rest aloud."
*Scornfully she looked at him, after a few moments passed she realized her vision has finally faltered; and the glare turned into disappointment and shame.*
 
"Long time over due, I believe..."

*As he finished the letter, she stared blankly through a painted glass window at dusk looming on the horizon; the elderly woman then began struggling to stand from her posh throne.*
"It is getting rather late... I will go to my chamber now." *She mumbled as she took her guards hand to support her as she hobbled away from the main hall.*

[Jona]

"Well, glad that's done and over with," thought Jona as he returned to his private quarters and ripped off the ridiculous formal attire required at the court meetings of the Wardens of the North. Once again clad in his more traditional outfit, comprised of leather and furs, he took his seat in the grand hall of Sargoth, ready to fulfill the requests of the many men lined up before him. "Judging by the size of the party present it would appear as though the goings-on of our latest faction meeting have already reached home" muttered Jona to one of his nearby attendants, in regards to the larger-than-usual crowd before him. After letting out a sigh and gently rubbing his temples, hoping to ease his persisting headache, he stated in a louder voice, "Very well, send the first man up."

"Lord Jona, I-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I must stop you there. I have told you all time and again to simply call me Jona. Not lord, sir, sire, or anything of the sort. Is that clear? The next man to add some ridiculous title to my name may have to receive some sort of punishment, perhaps no ale for a month, to finally get this through your infamously thick skulls. I come from humble beginnings, perhaps of lower standing than you established lot before me. I have done nothing to receive any sort of praise or embellishment other than survive many wars, and no doubt many of you will be able to reach that same number in the years to come. But, I digress... please, do continue."

"Yes si-, err... Jona. I think that I may speak for many of the men lined up behind me when I say this, but we must know, is it true that we will once more be flying our old green banners above our fiefs and armies? Is it true that we will be independent once more?" Many men in line behind the speaker mumbled their agreement, some shouting "Tell us more!" or "Please say it's true!"

"It is indeed true, these rumors you have heard. How they arrived here ahead of myself, is a mystery that I shall ponder until the day I die." Jona proclaimed, to much cheering and whooping in return.

"Perhaps, Jona, it was because you stopped and drank yourself into a miniature coma at the many taverns of Fenada?" whispered Jona's dearest adviser, Redgar.

"Oh, right. I was indeed told of that little pit stop. Funny, I seem to recall heading straight back here from Ismirala Castle, taking only but a moment's pause to eat lunch at Fenada, all in a single day's march."

"Well, uh, it was actually... closer to a single week's march. Five and a half days, to be precise. After reaching Fenada, you were unconscious for three whole days, and barely conscious for the rest of the painfully slow journey. It wasn't until just this morning that you finally returned to your usual self. Fuck's sake, I had to pour water into your mouth myself else you would have died of dehydration in some dirty tavern bed." Even Jona, having one of the best poker faces in all the North, was having difficulty suppressing the utter shock of those words. Now the reason behind his pounding headache had come to light, at least.

"I... I see. Thanks for telling me this Redgar, I know I can always count on you and your honesty... and sobriety." Jona whispered in response. Well aware of the awkward silence settling among the crowd as the cheers died out while he held this private conversation, he was about to address them when he decided it best to ask Redgar one more thing. "So... what exactly happened that prompted me to, uh, go all out? As I recall, the meeting went smoothly, and all were in good spirits. I see no reason to drink my sorrows away after such a friendly parting of ways."

"Sigh... you're as hopeless as ever. Well, at first it was to celebrate the last time you would have to wear those ridiculous clothes. Then at the next tavern it was to celebrate the return to our old ways. After that it was to commemorate the Wardens' end. Next up was in honor of all the lives lost on both sides of the many conflicts we had, followed closely by drinking to the memory of said great battles. From there on out you basically drank to merely have an excuse to continue sharing war stories and personal tales of glory among with all our men, although come the 7th or 8th pub, I think you eventually hit the point where you were drinking for the sake of drinking. Was tough to tell in your incoherent state as you were mumbling to yourself, perhaps still attempting to tell tales of valor."

"I see... so I heard somewhere in there that we're returning to our old ways, right?"

"Yes, Jona. That was the idea. Less talking, more raiding. You really should cut back on your drinking, just a bit, at least."

"Ah, good. I've had enough of all the fanciness and formality I've been subjected to as of late. I almost feel, well, civilized, to a certain degree. Boy, is it awful. If I ever have to sign one more paper, or attend another diplomatic meeting whilst sober, I swear... well, I don't know what. And I agree, perhaps it is best that I take it easy on the drinks for a while. But I best let all those anxious in the audience here know what's up." Looking towards the crowd before him, and speaking up once more, Jona declared, "Yes, as I said, we are indeed reforming under the Hounds of Chulainn banners once more. But that is not all! With that there will also be a return to our roots, our traditions re-established. No more will we be obliged or expected to declare wars while requiring this so called 'casus belli'. No, we will once more be raiders! Attacking wherever there is profit to be had, or simply whenever we got nothing better to do!" Jona shouted, standing and clenching his fist to accentuate this last point, only for him to immediately regret doing so as the room had begun to spin. The roaring emanating from the hall was louder than ever, and many long minutes passed before there was silence once more. "Now, before we can begin the proper celebrations, we must first complete any and all outstanding business here. Is there anyone who has an issue to address before this meeting is adjourned?"

Many of the men had of course come seeking to find out the truth behind the rumors floating around, so plenty shook their heads. Others realized that the promise of a brighter future more reminiscent of their glorious past, and the imminent partying, made their matters seem rather trivial, so they decided to put them on hold for the time being. However one small man, more of a teenager, really, sheepishly stepped forwards. "Jona, what I have here is an important document for you to review and sign, sent from Ismirala Castle. My guess is that it is to formally separate from the Wardens and establish ourselves as an independent faction once more." With that, the boy walked up to Jona, who was now very relieved to be seated, and handed over the document. Anyone who carefully watched Jona's face as he received this news would have noticed a flash of anger spread across it, only to disappear as quickly while Jona once again rubbed his temples.

"Thank you, you've always been a very reliable courier" said Jona, the slightest hint of frustration noticeable in his voice, as he received the document. The ending of his statement sort of trailed off, as Jona desperately attempted, but ultimately failed, to address the boy by his name. As soon as he unwrapped the document, any and all signs of annoyance instantly left his face, with a mischievous smirk just barely visible. Standing up once more, much slower, this time, Jona motioned for Redgar to come closer so that he could use his back to write on, as per usual since Jona had no tabletop devoid of spilled beverages of which to use. Accustomed to the routine, but never any less embarrassed by it, Redgar begrudgingly did as his longtime friend requested. "Here you are, please see to it that it is sent via our fastest raven to its destination." Jona said to Redgar, handing him the note.

"I must ask, after being so clearly annoyed by having to sign something, why is it that you are now smiling as if you're in the middle of the fray, your axe's head completely covered in enemy blood? What sort of document sent from Thalion or Finnian could have ever prompted such a response?"

"I'll have you know that my courier is quite thoroughly illiterate. Feel free to read the paper in your hands, it isn't sealed yet. It appears I had some foresight whilst still sober in Ismirala. Do make sure you discard the smaller note before sending the main document on its way" Jona said to Redgar. Then, turning to face the large crowd, "Now that all of our business is taken care of, who volunteers to bring out the kegs of Sargoth's world famous, "exotic" ale, and celebrate as only the mighty Hounds could?!?!"

As Redgar finally walked far enough down the halls to escape the endless raucous, he opened the letter. A scrap of fabric, apparently torn off from some fine, and undoubtedly expensive, clothes, fell to the floor. As he picked it up, he saw some scribbling, unmistakably from Jona's hand, on one side. It read: "Sending myself this reminder, and attached letter, as I fear I will most likely forget to send it otherwise upon my return." Tossing that aside, he began to smirk as well, since Jona, as unreliable as he could be, was always prepared. Reading the actual letter he was entrusted with sending, his smirk only grew as well until it was a full-blown ear-to-ear grin. He even chuckled to himself after concluding it, as it all made sense now. He continued to laugh as he made his way to where the ravens were held. "So much for taking it easy."

(click to show/hide)

Dear Lord Hetman of the Grey Order,

It is well-known that you are the lord of a city very much like my own, not in its design, economy, population, or any boring stuff like that, but in its renown for producing ale of the utmost quality. I fear that in the weeks to come my supply may not be able to keep up with the demand. I ask if you would be so kind as to loan us some, perhaps 1000 kegs, then me and my master brewers would make sure to return to you as many as we borrowed, plus the appropriate interest, in no time at all.

Thanks and regards.

Signed,

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[sJimmy]

A raven had arrived outside the garden window of Tulga, it had barred the markings of old friends. Jimmy took the letter, and began reading. He was not surprised nor sadden at the news, yet he pondered and gathered his pin and scroll and began writing a letter,

To old Friends, as my eyes grow old and the light gets dark, I shall once more see the walls of the North, for winter is coming upon these old bones. I hope you can join me in my wedding at the Free City of Reyvadin. I bring a gift of old days past. I hope .. to see the Honorable men of the North one last time, before death takes us all. We shall gather great men and have a test of arms one last time!

As Jimmy sends the letters to the Ravens sending it off North and East. He tells his stable boy to ready his horse for a long trip North.

[StonedSteel]

...

holy

fuck

jona ur my bro, have been for over 2 yrs now...but after that wall of text im saying it, TLDR bro, damn. also:

u just lost ur "i call other people nerd" privilege.

[Vengt037]

ready to fulfill the requests of the many men lined up before him...

hehe

[Vengt037]

And so was shattered the last alliance of the north. Fragmented into petty chiefdoms, they would each face the coming darkness in solitude--desolate, disconsolate and forlorn. And then, huddled in their empty halls, once ringing with music and merriment, naught could be heard save the howling of the north wind. And when the enemy battered at the very gates, there were none who would answer the warden's call. On deaf ears it fell, though it pronounced the doom of a land once united.

And so passed out of this age the only beacon of hope in the memories of men yet living. The shadows stretch southward. The long night approaches.

[Balikar]

Moonshine stood there looking down at the map covered table.  Occasionally, he'd reach down and adjust some pieces on it, when suddenly a man burst into the room.  "Moonshine!  Word from the North!" 

Without even raising his eyes, he lifted a parchment with a brown seal...  'Let me guess, King Jimmy is set to marry the Maiden of Reyvadin?'

"No sir, why would you think..."

'...The Wardens are fractionalizing.  Dissolving.  Free to act on their own?"  With a sweep of his hand, he sent the northern pieces scattering.

"Yes sir... how... how did you know?"

"Information is worth more than any goods a caravan may carry.  Tis a sad day.  There was hope in the North.  Fetch me three couriers.  I have messages to send.." 

[CALAMARI]

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[Jona]

A small, quivering weasel of a man knocks tentatively on the large wooden door to what could only be described as the most foul layer of gluttony and debauchery wretched hive of scum and villainy in New Calradia.

...

holy

fuck

jona ur my bro, have been for over 2 yrs now...but after that wall of text im saying it, TLDR bro, damn. also:

u just lost ur "i call other people nerd" privilege.

I... I may have drank too much last night. 

[Bryggan]

Bryggan, upon hearing of the dissolution of the WotN and the reestablishment of the Hounds, quickly mounted his horse.  He knew Jona of old, and felt a personal meeting was required.

He pushed his faithful courser to the limits, and ended up in Sargoth in two days.  He was disarmed by the Hound guards and led into the great hall.  "My good Lord Jona," he started, but Jona cut him off.

"Fuck off with the titles, Bryggan," he growled.

Bryggan laughed.  "Bloody hell, Jona," he said, "for such an awesome fighter, you are such a noob.  Titles are why most players play strat!  Now then, i've ridden hard for two days, and we have a lot to discuss.  I think a good start would be a drink."

"Certainly," Jona said, and poured Bryggan a goblet of what appeared to water. And, when Bryggan tasted it, it was water.  Which made him cough and sputter, as he was unused to such a libation.

"Sorry, all I have to offer is water," Jona responded, "I got a little carried away of late, so I gave my good man Redgar the keys to the cellar.  And, according to my orders, he is hiding for several days so I can get my affairs in order... and actually remember what affairs I put in order.

"But still, it's always good to see an old friend and an even older enemy," Jona continued, "and my guards tell me that you claimed to have a lot to discuss with me.  Well I'm all ears."

Bryggan glanced at his water, then shifted his gaze back to Jona.  The same casual appearance, the seemingly bored attitude, but that flicker of ferocity behind those impassive eyes.  A dangerous enemy, but a very good ally.  Then he looked at his goblet of water again. Water!  "Nah, nothing important," Bryggan responded, "nothing that can't wait a few days.  Just a congrats on being your own faction again."  Then he looked at the water again.  "I guess I'll be going then," he said, "just stopped by to say 'hi'"

Jona saw him off at the city gates, all smiles and politness.  But Bryggan left Sargoth feeling miserable.  "There is no point to a diplomatic mission", he thought, "if you can't have a grand old pissup with a gent like Jona."

And, feeling quite let down, he rode his horse sadly into the distance.