At the first dawn of light, the Caerwyn kingdom was in chaos the volcano spitting fire in the extreme North and the 3 distinct tremors that had happened in the night left civilians and nobles in chaos, no one knew what they meant, how or why it happened. King Eiric gave the order to say that it was just a natural disaster and told the people that nothing bad will happen. While behind closed doors the Council of Wisdom and the King were in an uproar as Bryndor delivered the news on what they just learned about the evolved creatures.
"And that would be all that we currently know about the situation..." Bryndor got interrupted before he finished his words.
"Which is next to nothing, seems like your order is kind of over your heads. Why did you bother coming in person for delivering so little news a letter would have sufficed." Said Elarion Duskwood with a hint of irritation, he was one of the five current members of the Council. His long silver hair cascades down to his shoulders, hinting at the wisdom and experience he carries. His silver eyes are like twin mirrors reflecting the world around him, observant and perceptive. Despite the years that have shaped his countenance, his handsome face retains an air of vigor and charisma. Elarion's stature at 1.79 meters adds a commanding presence to his already impressive aura. His innovative mind has conceived and executed a comprehensive sewer system for the major cities, mitigating the threat of disease and enhancing public health, beyond that he designed and built a series of intricate irrigation channels that have transformed arid lands into fertile fields. Those achievements among many others have earned him a seat in the council as well as the role of chief of The Hall of Stone along with the title of "Grandmaster Architect".
"I've come here representing Black Warden Commander Freya Caerwyn, to underline the dangerous circumstances we find ourselves in, Grandmaster Architect." Answered Bryndor with a calm voice.
"While it is true that the news and words you bring sound grave, have you actually verified them? No offense but talking sentient corrupted beasts sound like something straight out of fantasy." The one that just spoke was Elisia Niamh with eyes as blue as the sea and golden hair kept in a ponytail, she stands at 1.70 meters tall. Aged 45, she has risen beyond the ordinary, reaching the pinnacles of her craft. Fueled by an unyielding desire to alleviate the suffering of her fellow beings, Elisia's remarkable achievements have earned her a reputation that resonates through the ages. Her most significant feat lies in her discovery of cures for some of the most notorious diseases that have plagued humanity, earning her not only the respect of her peers but the deep gratitude of countless lives she has saved. Beyond that she struggled to create a school for training doctors, her expertise transcends the realm of medical treatment; she delves into the intricate tapestry of human anatomy, crafting a manual that lays bare the complexities of our physical forms. Her manual serves not only as an educational tome for aspiring healers but as a testament to her commitment to understanding the human body's inner workings. However, Elisia's vision doesn't end at the confines of her school. With a heart that embraces the well-being of every individual, she champions the idea of Houses of Healing in every town. These sanctuaries of solace would provide free treatment to all, regardless of their station in life. Her dream reflects her unwavering belief that health and care should be accessible to all, earning her the title of Mistress of Ailments and a seat on the Council of Wisdom.
"We have lost our best scout team to 'verify' this information, Mistress of Ailments." Bryndor squinted his eyes at the woman, fury smoldering in his eyes.
"Don't smolder, Bryndor. What you say is hard to believe but at the same time opens up a world of possibilities. How did they evolved, what are their capabilities, how smart are they, can you reason with them?" Elisia's curious mind and questions irked Bryndor. "Miss Elisia they can't be reasoned with, keep in mind they ambushed and killed our scouts."
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"Don't blame her Bryndor, she's like a child when something catches her attention, insensitive that is. Still what do you plan to do next, since your wardens can't fight against them our soldiers will be even more useless, no offense to your Majesty but times of peace makes an army weak." Spoke gently Thuran Ironforge. Aged 40, he stands as a living testament to the legacy of the forge, with a shock of fiery red hair and a beard that mirrors the same vivid hue, Thuran's piercing black eyes hold the depth of a thousand smoldering forges. His face, carved by years of dedication, wears the rugged marks of countless battles against the stubborn iron and unyielding steel. At a towering height of 1.90 meters, Thuran's robust frame is a testament to the countless hours spent hunched over the anvil, shaping the raw elements into works of art and war. Blacksmith by blood and soul, he has honed his skills to perfection. Among his many achievements, Thuran's legacy is forever etched in his discovery of a new alloy. This revelation brought forth a metal lighter than a whisper yet sturdier than the mountains themselves. This alloy, a testament to his mastery of the craft, has become the foundation of weapons, armors, and structures that defy the limits of their predecessors. Thuran's genius extends beyond the forge, for he is also a craftsman who dances at the intersection of art and war. His creative mind, has birthed mechanical marvels that echo through history. Ballistae that launch their deadly payloads with unerring accuracy and catapults that shatter fortifications with calculated force stand as testament to his ingenuity. His amazing works and inventions earned his the title of Grandmaster Craftsman and his rightful seat on the Council.
"We don't know for sure if we can fight or the full extent of their abilities. And what they killed were our scouts and in an ambush that is. We are organizing an expedition made of our finest warriors to gather more information. What we ask is for support defending the walls, weapons and armors of the finest, ballistae, catapults all could be useful in defending." Answered Bryndor scanning the room with his blue eyes.
"That sounds reasonable enough, I have some potions and poisons that could use some field testing, would your wardens have me amongst you?" Spoke in a crooked way Alaric Venomhart, a figure both enigmatic and unsettling, stands as a paradox. At 56 years old and a modest height of 1.60, each word spoken in a crooked manner that mirrors the labyrinthine paths of his mind. His grey hair and beard cascade like whispers of mist, adding to the aura of mystery that shrouds him. Yet, it is his white eyes that command attention, seeming to pierce through veils of deceit and discern the hidden truths beneath. Alaric is an alchemist and potioneer, a master of elixirs and concoctions that traverse the spectrum of healing and harm. Among his many achievements, he has birthed a potion that defies the natural order – an elixir that, when poured, weaves the flesh together and seals open wounds in an instant. Another of his creations numbs pain to a whisper, offering solace to those in agony. But within the confines of his private laboratory, Alaric treads a darker path. His fingers dance with poisons and toxic concoctions, a realm of study he keeps veiled from prying eyes. His research delves into the creation of poisonous bombs, each designed to unleash destruction with a touch of his morbid genius earning him the title of Shadow Alchemist.
"We welcome any help." Said Bryndor unsure.
"Ho, ho , it's been a long time since I've seen Alaric so excited." Laughed Alderic the Wise.
"There is also another matter, the upcoming celebrations... We the wardens can't guarantee the safety of the guests during those unsure times." Said Bryndor embarrassed.
"Well, can't say that I'm happy to hear that but i suppose we can't send our nobles on a potential war front. Very well Wardens, have it your way, the celebrations will be held at Tyr Annwyn but i still hope your Commander can still make at least a brief appearance." King Eiric spoke in his usual calm voice.
"We'll try your Majesty." Replied Bryndor with a bow.
"With this being said, I guess we should wrap this meeting up, gentlemen. The Council and the Crown will provide the Wardens with all the material and logistic support we can offer, everyone in favour?" Spoke Alderic the Wise and the meeting ended with an unanimous vote.
Back at Oakheart however, things were a mess, Freya's newfound powers were a mystery and the news of the evolved creatures stirred waves among the wardens.