A Province Divided:

The Interregnum

The year is 2E 472, it has been nearly 500 years since Tamriel has had an Emperor on the throne.
The provinces have broken apart into a complex web of small warlords and kingdoms.
Even the Imperial Province is nigh unrecognizable.

Since the death of the Akabiri Potentate Savririen-Chorak forty years ago, the Empire has had a string of ineffectual leaders, unable to keep the old Counts from revolting. Soon, the Imperial City found itself separated from the rest of the Empire.

Finally, a minor warlord invaded the Imperial City and wiped out almost all of the Empire's remaining Legions.

Now what little remains of the old Reman Empire has retreated south to Leyawiin, and awaits its doom.

In the West, the highly independent lords of the Colovians swiftly united under the banner of the Colovian Empire.

In the north, a tribe of Boethia worshippers have taken over the former county of Bruma, instituting a new religion based on their Daedric Prince.

In the East, Cheydinhal has fallen to minor, bickering warlords fighting for control of small towns and villages.

In the South, Bravil and Skingraad have united as a single nation.

And on the rocky coasts of the Abbecean Sea, a small city state has formed.

This is a time of great hardship in Cyrodiil, a time of warriors and kings, of mages and assassins. Perhaps there is a new Reman amongst these young kingdoms, a leader that the people of Tamriel can unite around.

?All that is sure is that the Interregnum has begun

But there is still hope.

Recently, a council was called to meet in the White Gold Tower to discuss the future of Tamriel. The leaders of many of the kingdoms have sent representatives, and several leaders have also come. These debates may just be the spark to begin a bloody war, or may lead to a great peace that shall stand the test of time.
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The Sign Up and OOC Thread is http://www.gamesas.com/topic/1367782-a-province-divided-the-interregnum/

Falco Pohlmann. Fort Southmarch. 27th of Midyear.

After spending a few days In Anvil, Falco finally received orders from General Corvus to head to Fort Southmarch. His band of 30 mercs, as well as many other mercenaries King Aventius managed to hire, were to head to Fort Southmarch to assist the commander of that same fort in an upcoming march to Skingrad. For a few days, the mercs finally arrived at Fort Southmarch. Around the fort was a huge military camp. All around Falso were plenty of Anvil Soldiers ready to attack The West Weald. If Falco could guess, it would be a few thousand. With these soldiers were other mercs, which seem to number to a few hundred. Falco walked to the Fort and was confronted by a soldier guarding the gates.

"What do you want?" Asked the soldier. "I am one of the mercenaries hired by King Aventius. And I wish to speak to the commander." replied Falco. "Hold on" The gate guard went to get General Rikkus. A few minutes later he entered Rikkus's quarters to find him about to beat another soldier in a game of Chess. "Sir. I am sorry to interrupt but some merc is outside the fort wanting to speak to you"

General Corvus Umbranox. The Siltrid River/West Weal coast. 27th of Midyear.

After a few hours, the army is ready advance further into enemy territory. The Soldiers stood in formation, ready for the order to march for the Glory of of Clovia and the reunification of Cyrodiil. Corvus however, wanted to review the plan one more time with his generals. they took a stroll ahead of the beach, guarded by 12 heavy infantry and 8 archers with crossbows. "Allright all of you know the plan but I want to go over it one more time. Ole, once you take Shardrock and Fort Istirus, I want you to leave only half of your men to occupy the area. Take the other half and meet me at Skingrad."

"It will be done sir." Said Ole

"Gavius, head to the part of the Gold Road where it curves and do not let them pass your defences."

"The Legion and their puppet army will only that over my dead body sir.

"And Na'zir, Once you and me get to Skingrad we will split my army in half. You take one half and set up on the east gate, I will take the other half for the West Gate."

"Yes Sir." Na'zir was a Redguard born in Colovia. He is one of the officers in the Anvil Military to be a non Cyrod and the only general to be so. Despite being a different race, he is a loyal soldier and a great strategist.

"Now, my army should arrive at Skingrad around Midnight. Ole and Gavius, I expect your army to head to your destinations tomorrow morning. I believe we are done. Head back to your men, and wait for my signal. The war is about to start." Said Corvus.

The Generals are now on their horses. The entire army is ready. Corvus blew a battle horn, and the armies marched. One for Shardrock, one for the Eastern Goldroad, and the final for Skingrad itself.

Sir Enton, Fort Istirus

Sir Enton eyed up the merchants, something about their story sat very wrongly with him. He knew that it was a regrettable fact that there were those who sought to make a living from the suffering and death caused by war. Still, the fort was going to need supplies if the enemy was coming and he no longer had any doubt that they were. "I'll make you boys an offer, I'll have one of my lads here have a look through your wares, make a few notes then run back to the fort to have a chat with our quartermaster," Sir Enton waved Falco forwards, "then we'll take what we need, pay you appropriately and send you on your way." The knight took a few steps towards the peddlers, looking closely at the cart. He placed a hand on his sword hilt and began pacing around the merchants, looking each one in the eyes.

"You'll understand if I don't invite you in, we are at war after all," he delivered the line with a chuckle. Sir Enton slowly returned to his original position, "so how does my offer sound?"

Arch-Count Rislau, Skingrad

Rislau was woken gently by his steward, "my lord, there is a man at the lower west gate, he claims to be the Arch-Deacon of Boethia's legion." The Arch-Count sat upright in the bed, Boethia's legion? Here? Perhaps Cassamir is afraid. The count allowed himself a chuckle, a rare thing these days.

"Very well, have him brought up to the castle, make him wait in my throne room." Rislau paused as he contemplated details, "and have a score of guards posted there too, Boethia's legion aren't above attempting an assassination attempt under the flag of diplomacy. Oh, have word sent to High Priest Nolan, he'd enjoy this." His steward turned to leave the room, just as he reached the door Rislau called out again "and have my squire sent up, I'll need to get my armor on." Rislau watched Valton leave as he began to wash his face and get ready for his meeting with the Arch-Deacon.

Priest Militant Ento, Cheydinhal

The grim faced Redeemed had finished their long march to Cheydinhal, all the while keeping rank. The Priest Militant turned to face the men as they passed, he allowed himself a moment of pride as his well trained troops acted exactly as they had been trained to. He walked back to the front of the line, flanked by his retinue of holy men. To his left two men carried the remains of Saint Victi, he'd petitioned to have the remains left in Bravil but he had been forced to by powers above. The saint had reportedly been born in Cheydinhal however few could verify the claim. To his right he had a gibbering madman who, after several correct predictions (or lucky guesses to Ento), had been named The Prophet of Bravil. "Eight were Eight, loose and unbound." Ento shot the man a withering glance, the prophet didn't notice, "the voices are echoes, echoes of the future, wobbling in the possi-space, I hear them, one more there will be."

Ento stared up at the gates of Cheydinhal, "open up. Open for The Redeemed of the Eight, the Weald has come to the aid of Cheydinhal."

Arch Deacon Fadrill, Skingrad/Throne Room, 28th Of Midyear 4:00 A.M.
The guards almost immediately searched him for any weapons or objects that could cause harm.
One of the guards retorted
"What sort of trickery is this... he comes to a warzone... unarmed!"
Fadrill looked at them in a tone that tried to hide his tiredness
"We aren't all monsters you know... not all, but there are some."
The guards then escorted him up the stairs to the palace and threw him inside, spitting on him when Fadrill hit the ground
"To hell with you, you knife-eared Daedra worshiping scum!"
If it wasn't diplomacy I was here for they would have met my blade almost instantaneously
He then sat at a table where a servant brought him some tea
this should wake me up.
"Thank you."
Fadrill then took his hood off and awaited the Arch Count's Arrival

Arch-Count Rislau, Castle Skingrad, 4 am.

So Boethia's legion has come to [censored] themselves out to us, or do they mean for us to sell to them? What has changed in the North that now they come to us? Rislau thought all of these things as his squire tended upon him, strapping his armor on. "My mace boy," Rislau extended a hand, pointing at the wall display that held his new weapon. The boy lifted it from the hooks and laid the pommel in the Arch-Count's hand. Rislau decided against taking his shield, if the Arch-Deacon attacked, well, the guards would make short work of him.

Rislau walked briskly to the throne room, more thoughts filling his mind. The Legion would be valuable allies, we can use them to damage Chorrol and perhaps even Kvatch. Still they are Daedra Worshipers, such heathen should not mingle with The Devout. The walk was short and he didn't need to think about the route as he went. His mind wandered to times of peace, once I lusted for war and conquest, now I hope only to see the end of it.

He entered the room, ignoring the Arch-Deacon he walked slowly to his throne. He lowered himself into it and twisted to observe the room. The Arch-Deacon was drinking tea, an almost ridiculous sight for one garbed in full, black, hooded armor. "So, what does Boethia's Legion want with the West Weald?" One of his servants laid a goblet of hot, spiced wine next to him. He took a sip as he waited for the Bosmer's response.

Arch Deacon Fadrill, Castle Skingrad, 4 A.M. (almost 5 A.M.)
The Bosmer noticed a mixture of curiosity and comedy on the Arch Count's face
He has an inflated ego, sitting in his throne makes others feel lesser and suggests a ruler's superiority
He sipped a small amount of tea before he began speaking
"I apologize for my apparent tiredness, I just galloped for nearly 17 Hours."
Cassamir want's an alliance between Skingrad, Bravil, Leyawiin, and Cheydinhal
"I have been sent because I have come to negotiate with you over what would allow us to have an alliance of sorts against Chorrol, Anvil, and Kvatch, so what would make that possible...?"

Arch-Count Rislau, Castle Skingrad, 4 am.

"I apologize for my apparent tiredness, I just galloped for nearly 17 Hours," the Bosmer paused as if thinking,"I have been sent because I have come to negotiate with you over what would allow us to have an alliance of sorts against Chorrol, Anvil, and Kvatch, so what would make that possible...?" Rislau shifted in his throne, examining the man before him.

"So Boethia's Legion would renegade on its former alliance, what has changed in the north that has Cassamir so unsettled?" He took a sip of his wine, lingering at the goblet and swirling the redness around it. "What terms would the Legion bring to such an alliance?"

Fadrill, Castle Skingrad, 4:50 AM
"Well, for one we were betrayed by an ally in Cheydinhal... not that I ever trusted the [censored], but we were betrayed none the less, and we don't want to waste our armies on other peoples wars where we gain nothing, but if we were to attack Chorrol we would have something to gain, we would take Chorrol and remove pressure from you, so it's mutually beneficial." He then took a sip of tea to symbolize that he was done speaking.

Arch-Count Rislau, Castle Skingrad, 4am.

"Well, for one we were betrayed by an ally in Cheydinhal... not that I ever trusted the [censored], but we were betrayed none the less, and we don't want to waste our armies on other peoples wars where we gain nothing, but if we were to attack Chorrol we would have something to gain, we would take Chorrol and remove pressure from you, so it's mutually beneficial." A single betrayal and they wage war on their former allies, they won't like what I have planned then. He kept his face still as he thought, allowing none of his thoughts to reach his outer.

"So the Legion attacks Chorrol and then what? Claim it as their own? And I asked you for terms, you have provided me with none. Am I to take it that the Legion wants nothing in return for our alliance?"

Fadrill, Castle Skingrad
"My apologies, I misunderstood your words, what do we want, we simply want two thing, Chorrol and
Fadrill allowed a brief pause in his words to express the seriousness of his next request
The Amulet of Kings...
we would also attack Kvatch and Anvil, thus removing the pressure on your cities and allowing you to claim Anvil and Kvatch

Arch-Count Rislau.

"You do understand that The West Weald has no knowledge of the location of the Amulet of Kings, it was lost in the sack of the Imperial city." The Amulet of Kings? What do the Boethians want with that? It is a relic of the fallen empire. He was aware of the symbolic importance of the amulet however and understood why a would-to-be emperor would want it. "And even if it was found none live now who could wear it."

"As for Chorrol, you are welcome to it. However I would suggest that it is razed to the ground for their audacity. I bring one condition to our alliance, you stop this war with Cheydinhal and they are to be left alone until a decision is made about their fate. That decision would be taken by a collected council of war, with me at its head."

Arch Deacon Fadrill, 28th of Midyear
Damn! I thought they would know...
"We were going to burn the inside of their palace... but the townsfolk will not be harmed."
Fadrill sipped a small amount of tea
"I also have a rather large favor to ask you... I ask that my citizens have pilgrimage rights to Skingrad and to the Shrine in Cheydinhal...
To make up for this favor Cassamir will stop the persecution of Divine Worshipers in Bruma..."