Meeting in Avira [OPEN TO CHREINANS]

[Berjul the Strong]

To be born in the Retraki meant that you were born a rider. Everyone that was lucky enough to witness their ride from the Retraki islands to Avira would definitely be impressed and afraid at the same time. Today, the Retraki were making a statement. Their twenty thousand riders kept riding day and night for a good two weeks before they had reached Avira, which had once been the center of culture.

Barbarians they used to call them. They had come upon each and every clan with fire and death, and they had united Chreina. That was the past, but the deaths and destruction remained. A painful reminder of what they had once been and what they had lost. But the Retraki had never been easy to put a leash on.

You could never tie a free stallion down. You would only make the beast angry. And that was what they had done.

They had made them angry, and while one of their princes had made an alliance with them, the barbarians came together. When the other returned, they fought against one another. But, the barbarians had grown strong.

It was the Retraki who had brought back the golden age of freedom, that much was known. It was the Retraki who had allowed the other clans to be free again, and then retreated back to their islands. They had never wanted to lead. They took what they wanted with blood and war, not with alliances.

The volcano had erupted. The gods were telling them to unite and destroy what should have been destroyed from the beginning. Whatever culture remained in Dheynor would be destroyed. They had started with Chreina, and they would finish with Dheynor. The twenty thousand riders reached Avira, and their eyes fell on the dark city that had once been a proud light for culture.

It sickened him.

Berjul the Strong was riding first. He wasn't afraid of an assassination, no one would even dare to hurt him today. No one could. Upon his black steed, he crossed the destroyed gates and made his way inside the city. Many fires were burning, it seemed that every single warlord had brought his whole force with him. Good, Berjul was an impatient man. The faster he destroyed Dheynor, the better. The biggest fire was burning in the middle of the city. He knew that this was where the meeting was going to be held.

He looked back at his most trusted soldiers and clicked his tongue. They turned around, and his army started to enter the city. They would take the western part of the city, as per tradition. He rushed his steed forward.

He reached the middle of the town soon afterwards (most people rushed out of his way) and saw a rounded table next to the great fire. It seemed that while the clans were here, the leaders had decided to wait. He got off from his steed and made his way to the table. He looked around and saw a statue of a Prince from the past. He left his horse and grabbed the statue with one hand, his magic flowing through him. He raised the statue from the ground and threw it several meters away, breaking it completely. Pleased, he made his way back to the table and sat down, his black horse next to him.

The leaders would come soon enough. Otherwise, they would have to face his wrath. No one denied a calling from the Gods themselves.

[Laelia Bloodborn]

The day had come when fire rained from the sky. It slid down the mountains and took everything it touched into a torturous end. Laelia watched, a sadistic smile across her lips. It was the most beautiful site she had ever seen. The clans had awaited this day. It was a sign. The time had come to stretch their strength across the land. To bring fear and death and blood before every man, woman, child and beast who lived on the earth. They had to unite. Each clan was deadly on their own, but together? They would be the end of the ‘civilized’ man.


The most efficient way to travel was on the backs of their mounts. At the head of Vroenar rode Lealia and her circle. To her left was her latest consort and to her right, her servant. Each clan was 20,000 strong. Most of Vroenar rode behind her. Sand rested on her shoulder while Strife and Fury remained with her on her red and white blanketed Appaloosa. The cubs were still to small to walk the journey behind the horses. Laelia rode tall, strong and proud of her clan. They arrived in Avira in good time. She halted the party and moved her mount onward, beckoning to her best as she did so. “We will set up here.” She said so the five could hear her. They all nodded and went off to spread the command.

Her servants were those who choose to spend their lives in her close service. They knew it was an honour. She had a wide tent. It was much more lavish than that of any other clan member. It was there she waited for the rest of the clans to arrive. “Mace, let me know when others have arrived.” She said to one of her riders.

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The word came soon and so she made her way to the centre of Avira. Non of her riders followed her, she did not need anyone else for anything. Strife and fury trotted along behind her and began to wrestle when she paused to watch the unmistakable form of Berjul destroy an old statue. The leader of the Retraki was all strength and pride. She could not recall a time when they had met in unity rather than bloodshed. “And so the stage is set.” She said loudly as she approached the extremely large man.

[Berjul the Strong]

The idea of unity sickened him. The Retraki had always valued themselves above all else. It was known that Chreina had the worst winters of all the land, but in comparison to the winters of the Retraki, the rest seemed like a few months of summer. The frost bred the toughest warriors from the moment of their birthright. And Berjul had been born during the harshest blizzard of the past few years.

Berjul's hands were clenched into fists. Patience had never been one of his virtues, and many people would claim that he had none. They were wrong. Courage, strength in the battlefield, bloodthirst. Those were the virtues that he had, and those were the only ones that he needed. He tried to wait while the other warlords took their time.

Unity. It sickened him. But even though he was a tough warrior, he wouldn't go against the will of the Gods. No one would.

He heard a voice coming from somewhere near to him, and turned around. His cold black eyes fell on the female leader of the Vroenar. She had spoken in Samai, a painful reminder of Chreina's darkest ages. He hated the fact that he had to utter those infernal words in that infernal language, but if every warlord spoke in their own language, then chaos would ensue.

He took a moment to study her. He had met her on the battlefield more than once. Bloodborn, they called her, for she had been born during a battle. Berjul wasn't a man of words, especially ones that were diplomatic enough like her own. Berjul was a man of actions, and his own appearance here was a testament to that claim.

He snorted and laughed. "So the donkey meets the stallion." he said in Samai. To call someone a donkey in Retraki was as if they called you a nothing. They hardly used donkeys, horses were stronger and more useful. He looked at Laelia again and laughed again. "When are the rest of the donkeys coming? Dheynor is waiting and so am I."

His voice was deep and cold, as if every word spoken to her was to be thought of as a direct threat. Berjul was making a statement. Once they were done with Dheynor, they would revert back to the old ways. The Gods would take what they had asked for, but then the man would do what was needed.

[Laelia Bloodborn]

Laelia would not let Berjul’s words get to her. His body was large, but his mind was small. Petty insults were his choice. She would much rather cut down her enemies with blades than with weak words. “Perhaps they passed of old age while waiting to bow down before the mighty Berjul. Leader of the doltish Retraki.”  She said sarcastically. It was truly disgusting. Working alongside the likes of Berjul. The man only saw things one way. If something lacked physical strength it was nothing to him. She heard in the Retraki donkey’s were considered low. Not to Laelia. Everything had some type of value. There were different forms of strength. 

Laelia would never be able to compete with Berjul physically. She had no doubt however that he would be easy to fool. Right now, however, she was angry. At least when the others arrived the could get down to business. The sooner that happened the sooner she could get back to Vroenar and back to being productive. “I do not want to be here talking to you. I do not want to look upon your face without the blood of your clan being spilled behind you." None of the other clans could be trusted. The second they had accomplished their goal -if they even made it that far- they would split once more. The clans were not meant to be one. Each was like a separate element, the times they mixed resulted in pain and destruction. Laelia loved those two things greatly, except when her clan was the one suffering. Berjul's voice was cold. This was not the type of person one could turn their back to. He wanted everything for himself. Well, so did she and Laelia was not the type of woman to be walked all over by a man.

If you are foolish enough to believe that you will run the show than leave with your pathetic mules behind you. The will of the land or not I shall make sure you spend the rest of your days less of a man than you already are.” Oh how she loved the idea of Berjul the Gelded. She would like to see him claim himself as the Stallion then.

[Berjul the Strong]

Working with the other clans would be difficult, Berjul had known that from the beginning. Rarely did he see someone equal to him, and he knew that in order to unite, the clans would have to see each other as an equal. Perhaps the Gods were asking too much of them at the time, Berjul wasn't sure. But by the God of War, he wouldn't let this Vroenar leader talk to him that way. Not that he cared, anyway, they all knew how strong he was.

They didn't call him Skullcrusher for nothing.

He looked at her when she replied to his question, and laughed. "Or perhaps they died with my hand ripping their heads." he said, and his black eyes met hers. He started to speak with a low voice. "Or have you forgotten, you who was born in blood? How your father begged for his life before I ripped his head from his neck with these hands?" He unclenched his fists to show her how big his hands were.

He laughed again when she said she didn't want to be here. "Then do it, Vroenar. You are here, we are here." he said, and looked at her closely, challenging her to fight him. "Order your fellow Vroenar to attack, what's stopping you?" he said, and then laughed again. "The Gods, I know. I am only here to join the fight against the men in the iron suits." he added.

He looked at his horse next to him. "I do not believe that another war between the clans would profit anyone." he said to himself out loud. "We do not fight against you during the year except for winter. The waters freeze and we are free to ride in the mainland and the clans pay their price. It has always been that way and will always be, it is the will of the Gods, for when they created the Retraki they blessed them with the best warriors."

He looked at her warningly when she called his clan pathetic mules. "I will never run the show, it is the Gods who called and I pledged my allegiance to their cause." he said. "That being said, I would love to see the rest of the clans burn Dheynor to the ground without our help. We were born to burn, pillage and kill, declining our help would be foolish, even considering your standards."

He shook his head. "But the Gods have spoken. I am here to prepare for the attack. I am commanding my clan, I doubt the warlords will disagree, seeing as they will want to assume command of their own clans. Every moment wasted here is an insult to the Gods."

[Laelia Bloodborn]

“Women never forget.” She said to Berjul. All of his talk of gods...What gods? She believed in none. The earth was the only power she answered to. The elements were the only thing that held control. “It is a good thing then, that I do not believe in gods. I am not the type of person who likes to take orders...” She let her voice trail off at the end. Not quite sure who she was talking to at that point. Laelia took a step closer to Berjul, “I do not need to hide behind my warriors. If there was to be and blood shedding today it would be between the two of us alone.” She wanted to slice him then. So badly. Laelia’s desire to see the blood flow from his body and pool beneath him was strong. How much blood did a man his size carry anyway? However she could not. She had been warned about this for weeks now. Maybe the others would be less of a challenge for her to accept. She had a...personal...vendetta with Berjul.

She did not want to accept that he was right in some ways. The insults he fit into each sentence annoyed her. However she had to admit they were stronger together. “The only thing that is stopping me is the potential of what unity could mean. However one day I will take you up on that offer. That I can guarantee." She flashed a smile towards him. Laelia was done with this argument. She was tired of it already. When it came to others she had little patience, “So Berjul. What is it that you bring to the table?” They would need to know everything they had combined. The clans were not organized like the armies of the Kings. They did not need to be, however understanding and some type of strategy would only help.

[Berjul the Strong]

He laughed when she said she didn't believe in Gods. "Then why are you here?" he stated, and clicked his tongue. "We all came here because each and every God we believe in gave us a sign through that volcano." he said, and tapped his fingers on the table. "I came here because I worship war and I long for battle. No matter what you believe in, you take orders from it. Whether it is an animal, say a bird, you take orders because it needs to travel to distant lands, or blood, you take orders because you long for it." he added, and then spat on the ground. "Perhaps we are all wrong and there are no Gods. I suppose I will never know, this is a question for wise men with skinny arms and not me."

He raised an eyebrow when she spoke of the two of them fighting. His brow furrowed with curiosity and disbelief. "Go on, then. I'm right here." he said, crossed his hands around his chest and looked away, obviously ignoring her. She should have known better, challenging Berjul the Strong never ended up well for anybody stupid enough to challenge him.

He turned to look at her, obviously disappointed because she had decided not to complete her challenge. "I can't wait." he said, and an evil smile appeared on his lips, his black eyes staring into hers with anticipation. Another laugh, and then he relaxed again, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest again.

"Twenty thousand riders, the best the Retraki have had in years." he said. "They have their own weapons, horses, devastating tactics that I'm sure you've seen over the years of your existance. Going through the pass in the mountains will be our best bet, we cannot cross in Dheynor through any other way. That being said, my riders and I can burn the northern part of the mainland in a week."

He cleared his throat and continued. "Any village or town that we destroy is considered ours, and only we can steal treasures and get slaves. Any other clan that wishes to refresh themselves or spend the night in those lands will be given that right in the first week without question. After that, they will be given that right only by me."

He had even more statements to make. It would be best not to make them all at once. "Do you agree?"

[Laelia Bloodborn]

“I came here for the blood. I came here for the elements. I do not think that ‘god’ is what they are. I came for no being. I came for the calling of the earth itself.” A god was what the Kingships worshiped. It was a thinking being. Laelia believed in the balance of the world. The natural course of life and death. She could not describe blood nor rain nor sky as a being. If that was what the Retraki believed than that was what they believed. She just didn’t particularly want to hear the word every moment.

She watched the smil spread across Berjul’s face, “Well that is not my problem now is it?” She retorted, her eyes narrowing and she stared into his eyes. He laughed and relaxed after her question. Laelia would not follow. She doubted she would ever relax around the other tribes. “What you say applies for Vroenar in some ways as well, however I will not stake claim on land I have not seen. Once we cross the mountains I will decide and whatever we take is ours. Be it land, slaves, goods or lives. I do not agree that you may lay claim to land, that is a matter to be discussed when the others arrive.” Laelia did not know how the Kinglands were divided. She did not know what lay where. Laelia would claim nothing until she knew what she was claiming.

Along with that she would make no demands in front of Berjul. She wanted to hear everybody out before choosing her own course of action. She knew the power of words and thought. She knew the power they had on appearances. As such she would say nothing that she was not certain of.

[Eden the Raven]

The fire had ravaged their lands, leaving only death and destruction in its wake. Most of the Örn survived but much of the natural resources they would depend on to make it through the winter had been burned away. In this state they would not survive the winter. The fire did not worry him though. Eden knew that the fire was a sign; the sign. It was time for the Chreinan horde to cross the Baraf’s and spread out across Dheynor. They would see great battles, glory, plunder. His name would be sung in songs of battle and triumph for an eternity. That is if the clan leaders could come to terms without murdering each other first. In the distance the Örn riders could see Avira, and further in the distance the Barafs just the sight of them and the knowledge of what rested just beyond made him tremble with anticipation. It was almost time.

Eden shifted in his saddle, adjusting his armor and the weapons on his back. He did not much care for horse; seeing as his body was a much more efficient means of locomotion. It was his duty to ride with his clan to Avira though, and a flight from their homeland to the city would leave even his considerable stamina drained. Eden would prefer to have all his strength when he met with the other leaders; they tended to be a violent bunch.

Eden’s outriders spotted the fires that dotted the darkened city and signaled the Raven. Eden realized that they were late, not surprising considering the distance they travelled but still he did not wish for the other to get too far without him. Giving command of the forces to his next in command, he ordered then to take the northern section of the city and set up camp, it was only fitting as they were above the rest of the clans in every way. With a nod to his soldiers Eden spread his powerful ebony wings and took to the skies. He was much faster flying on his own and was able to cross the remaining distance to Avira with ease. From above his eyes locked on the great fire in the center of the city and he dove. His wings folded in around his body as he plummeted toward the ground and he snapped them open to slow his descent a few from the earth below him.

Smoke and dirt swirled around him, his figure silhouetted by the light of the fire. He was always one to make an entrance, and he was happy to see that many of the major players had already arrived. Though his excitement for the conquest of the future were now mixed as he ran his eyes over them. They were all his rivals, each and every one of them, and even though he knew that it was his duty to plan the invasion with them, part of him wanted nothing more than to slay each and every one of them in glorious combat.

His feet touched the ground and his wings snapped shut again. Eden had arrived just in time to catch the end of what the woman he recognized as Laelia from Vroenar had said. He felt an arrogant smile cross his lips. “The Raven of Örn has arrived what others would you need.” His voice boomed through the meeting place, he could feel eyes on him and it only fueled his boasts. Moving toward the table Eden Kicked a chair free and took his place at the table. “Certainly with the strength of the Örn the cowards of Dheynor will prove no contest.” His eyes flicked to each and every one of them but settled on the great ape Berjul and he smiled. “Our strength is unmatched.” One day soon they would have Dheynor, and then he would test his own strength against Bejul the Strong.

[Berjul the Strong]

He was growing restless. Perhaps the others didn't realise it, but Berjul wouldn't delay this campaign because the rest of the warlords failed to show up in time. He wouldn't deal with them at the moment, but the Gods would, sooner or later. No one neglected their signs, and yet they had. And they would pay the utmost price.

Death and obliteration.

Berjul frowned when she said that he couldn't claim the lands. "I don't think you've realised this, but the Retraki fight for their own reasons." he said, and frowned again. "We fight to quench our thirst for battle. Just because we are here to unite, doesn't mean we are here to ally ourselves with you. We have a common purpose, but that's it. We won't attack you in Dheynor, but when we burn a part of the mainland, we keep it for ourselves."

He took a breath and continued. "First to the finish line, think of it that way. We will help you on the battlefield, but that's it. You want help from us once we conquer the mainland, you ask for it. We won't give it without negotiations."

And then Eden arrived. How he hated that man, his arrogance made him so blind to obvious facts, such as that he would never be able to match him in strength. "Fly back home, little princess." he said, as he pointed to the man's wings. No smile on his face, he was dead serious. "Leave the negotiations to those who have proven themselves on the battlefield."

The man looked at him and commented on his strength. He turned to look at Black, his horse, as it started to take a shit. "Here's what my horse thinks of your strength." he said, and pointed. "Unless of course you want to prove your statement right now." His muscles tensed making him look even bigger, yet he continued to speak as if nothing had happened. "Your strength comes from weapons..." he said, his face full of disgust. "Mine is pure. There is only power in this world, and we are divided to those who are worthy to have it, and those who are not."

He cleared his throat. "You already know your place." he said, as he pointed to the man's weapons and armour. "As I said, the Retraki will lay claim to the lands they destroy. You are welcome to spend the first nights on our lands during the first week of the invasion. After that, I will be the only one to grant you permission. Of course, I will abide by the same rules when it comes to your lands respectively."