Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160531165159/@comment-13615389-20160610212354

~1st of Heartfire

Vienno Couteau wrote up the month's financial report. Being at Chorrol, it was much more productive there.

 Expenses: 

Chorrol: -5

Weynon: -2

Gnottlesfont: -2

Hackdirt: -3

Fort Rayles: -1

Fort Sancre-Tor: -1

Training 100: -1

 Income:

Chorrol: +10

Hackdirt: +5

Weynon: +3

Gnottlesfont:+3

 Net Change:

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Chorrol: +5

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Hackdirt: +2

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Weynon: +1

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Gnottlesfont: +1

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Fort Rayles: -1

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;">Fort Sacre-Tor: -1

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;"> Total: +7

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;"> Treasury: 22

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">---

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">~2nd of Heartfire

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">It'd been two days since the Lord of Gnottlesfont, Iagun, and his four elite guards left the village for Hackdirt. Currently, they were in the middle of the big empty between Hackdirt and Gnottlesfont, far from civilization. It was almost completely silent save for the clopping of the six horses that rode in formation, with the Lord in the middle and Brumli at the head. After a few hours of quiet, the Lord finally spoke up, in an attempt to make some conversation with his escort party.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">"I've already decided what changes I'm going to make when I head to Hackdirt," the Lord said, prompting Bumli to clench his fist in a mixture of anger and annoyance. "Made plans for construction in the courtyard. I think I'm going to--" He cut himself off when the commandant directed the party off of the path, and the Lord's horse followed instinctively "Hm? Are you sure this is the right way?" He asked, still not too concerned. In response, Brumli raised his hand into the air without turning around, and flashed some sort of signal. In mere moments, the officer riding next to the Lord grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off of his mount with a yelp. Gripping his head in pain and confusion, the Lord frantically looked up from the ground. Before he could even speak, the officer dismounted and landed right on top of him.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">---

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">Hours had gone by, and this point; it was dark and raining heavy. The Lord of Gnottlesfont, still groggy, fell in and out of unconciousness several times, but finally awoke when Iagun gave him a stern kick to the ribs and dragged him through the mud and into the rain. When the commandant finally set him upright onto his knees, the first thing he saw was a shallow grave that was freshly dug by one of the officers. The Lord began to scream and shout in protest, but they were too far out for anyone to hear him. Iagun caught his jaw in a vice-grip and lowered himself to his level.

<p style="font-weight:normal;font-size:14px;line-height:22px;margin-bottom:0px!important;">"Thought you were being clever, did you?" He said quietly. "Our king might not see it, but I'm no fool. You're a liability; you're a danger. Giving you Hackdirt is a risk I'm not willing to take. You're worth more dead than alive." With that, the commandant threw him down into the mud and drew a mace along with his other men. The White Oak veterans closed in on him and the brutal killing began. Five maces repeatedly mauled and maimed the Lord over and over again; severing skin from flesh, and flesh from bone and filling the air with a fine red mist of blood. By the time the commandant was satisfied, the Lord was a mess. His ribs were all but broken and his entrails were clearly visible; leaving a trail of blood as his mangled form was dragged through the mud and thrown into the grave. They didn't do a very good job of hiding the evidence, as bloody pulp was left all throughout the scene of the killing. Iagun figured the rain would wash it down though. "You," he said, pointing to one of his lieutenants, "Head to Hackdirt and inform them that they must elect a leader, so long as he pledges his undying loyalty to the White Oak." He then pointed back to the rest. "His brother will not be pleased. He'll have to be removed from power and replaced. Get it done." Without turning back once, the Imperial marched back to the tree where his horse was hitched and mounted it. It reared for a moment, and then was off.