Beating Swords into Ploughshares

This Forum is for the convention to be held in the Primarchy. I shall let the Primarchy set the scene.

Location: Mouth of the River Krakow, on the edge of Lake Veritas
Time: Late Summer of Year 20, two days before the 5th Anniversary of the Battle of Anvil (sorry about the date confusion, guys)

Your ships are each less than thirty miles from the lake's edge when Conviction finally comes into sight, appearing suddenly from behind a wide, tree-covered hill. The breeze picks up. Humid air hits your lungs (provided, of course, you use them), tasting of ozone and tickling your throat on its way down.

A blazing circle of white on an otherwise deep green landscape, A1 Conviction itself is composed of six white sandstone walls, forming concentric circles around a thin, black marble tower, topped with numerous tiny lights, flashing on and off at seemingly random intervals; at this distance on the river, the city looks vaguely like a squat wedding cake, with a ridiculously long lamp post decoration sitting at its center. Anyone bothering to pay attention spots another tower, less than twenty miles to the east, and a third one, about twelve miles to the south. The tops of all three towers glitter with the same tiny flickering lights.

As your ships gradually sail closer, a few more major details of your destination become visible: An immense dock of stone and bleached wood, extending out from the shore just inside the outermost wall, and a massive arch and portcullis, hanging open above the river, with a pair of massive lead tablets built into the stonework above the portcullis itself. The dock extends out from the shore, just inside the outermost wall, and in front of a mass of white brick warehouses. Dozens of tiny, glittering figures race in and out of the warehouses, filling the streets with carts.

The river itself runs through the outer edge of Conviction, passing in through the outermost wall, through the port, and then out again, before reaching a small forested section just before the lake itself, about six miles past the city proper. Those who look down, into the river below, spot wrought iron cages sitting on the bottom, filled with swirling masses of long pink fish, and wide patches of deep green plantlife. A few warforged wander within the cages, sweeping up fish in thick nets, or pulling free large sections of plantlife; one waves as your boat passes overhead.

Your ship passes beneath the portcullis, and up to one of the long wooden piers. The nearby warforged direct you towards a long, narrow warehouse. The warehouse itself appears to be mostly made out of the same white sandstone, but the side facing the piers appears to be made entirely of bleached wood, save for a massive stone archway sitting at the center. The archway itself is obviously more sandstone, but covered in long, thin lines of copper and bronze, which twist and swirl to form strange arcane runes.

A thin building juts out of the archway, composed of red-varnished wood and thick sections of polished steel, with a couple of large metal doors on each side. This smaller building is about thirty feet long, ten feet wide, and maybe fifteen feet high, and is encircled by a set of red-varnished stairs, leading up to the building's metal doors (themselves each about four feet off the ground). In front of one of the doors (the one on the thinner side of the building) is a long read carpet, extending thirty feet out from the top of the stairs. Half a dozen dull-grey warforged stand on each side of the carpet; the right arm of each one has been replaced by a long, jagged-edged sword, while the left appears to have a crossbow mounted into it. They stare straight ahead, more like statues than living beings.

And there, standing at the top of the steps, is Macha, wrapped in a long red dress and grey hooded cloak. She looks thinner than you may remember--almost to the point of being gaunt, in fact, though her face and eyes still seem to bubble with energy. Anyone who is paying attention notices that the cloak is wrapped almost entirely around her left arm, concealing it and her left shoulder from sight.

There. This should help people figure out what exactly they're looking at.

Completely defeating the carefully detailed ship introduction, Representative Inquitego appears at the designated meeting point in a bright flash of light. He is flanked by his attendants (Read:"Traveling buddies"), a conservatively dressed Neopolitan woman and a handsome young Mongrel lad. They all arrive dressed in official-yet-fashionable robes(Although the mongrelfolk wears noticeably less of them), clearly ready to make a good entrance on this most auspicious day.

Appearing before the grand steps, Inquitego turns around to face the harbor. "Greetings of the Society to all, and..." He pauses for a moment, and then turns to the neopolitan.

"There's nobody bloody here! I just saluted the bloody fishing district. Are you sure you got the right time?", he says, in a whisper that is not quite as quiet as he thinks it is.

"Certain, sir. The invitation expressly stated it. Are you sure you got the right place?"

"Of course I did! I've been to this dock hundreds of times. Or was that another dock? Oh, they all look the bloody same! You try differentiating anything in this country from a birds eye view. It's like a bloody patterned quilt!", he says, growing increasingly embarrassed.

"Well, then maybe you should double check the maps for once in your life! 'The Primarchy is large,' I said. 'Maybe you should double check,' I said. ' Oh no Mrs. Palimpset, no need, I can just intuit which of dozens of docks is the correct one, you'll never get anything done if you double check everything, we can't possibly spare the 10 seconds it'd take, yuk yuk.' ", she says, doing a rather spot on impersonation.

"Now see here, Mrs. Fussybritches, I have half a mind...", he says, flustered.

"Well, that's certainly correct.", she says, without missing a beat.

"Uh, guys? I think there's someone here to meet us.", the young Mongrelfolk interjects, indicating Macha.

The two, after a beat, immediately end their squabble and make themselves presentable. Big smiles all around.

"Ah! Err... Hello! Greetings from the Thaumaturgist Society, and the mainland in general! I'm Professor Inquitego, and, err, as you know, these are my assistants, Mrs. Scriptaria Palimpset and Mr. Dibbuk." he says, gesturing to the Neopolitan and the Mongrel respectively.

He looks around, unsure.

"Are we... ahh... late?" he says, uncertainly.

Macha grinned. "Well, one of you is."

She giggled. "I'm... I'm sorry, that was really undiplomatic of me. I just couldn't resist. No offense meant, I promise."

"I'm Macha," she said, offering a handshake with her right hand. "I'm the Official Representative of the Dermal Castes here, and... well, I'm here to welcome you to the Primarchy. Welcome, and all that. And no worries, you aren't late; it just looks like everyone else is."

They all stare at Macha for a moment of cricket chirruping. Inquitego and Dibbuk look at Mrs. Palimpset.

"What? I told you, this was the time!"

It's a good humorous amount of time before she starts giggling. "Oh, LATE! Oh, how droll!"

The other two stare at her.

"Oh, lighten up, you two! It's a joke!"

"Quite. I guess that we'll... stay here then? Jolly good."

They wait for other guests to arrive.

For a moment, there is confusion as the ship bearing the ALT's flag pulls into port. It is designed nothing like the Longboats that the ALT have sailed since they arrived at the island.

Instead, it is a large, sleek-looking Three-masted ship. It is thin, and very well crafted, impressing even the Primarch's experienced dockworkeds. It is built from dyed-black plants and bears the title "MAKO" in large white text. It is also, notably, crewed by Weresharks.

They seem different from most Lycans, speaking with a strange accent (Think a mix of Cockney and Jamaican), and bearing many complex tattoos on their hide. They seem to be a wide variety of Shark species, but work well together. They carry an odd assortment of weapons and clothing, seeming rather like pirates. Some are quite concerned, until Lord Valdyr disembarks.

Valdyr is unquestionably in the lead, with Gull and Grar behind him. But standing to Valdyr's side is a large Were Great White dressed in rather impressive finery. This large, heavily-scared sharks wears a fine coat over a waistcoat, both dark blue and bearing gold tracery on them. There is a hole where his large dorsal fin pokes out in the back it appears this coat was custom-made for him. He also has a very, very fine hat and a permanent eerie shark-toothed grin.

"So, Lord, dis be de Primarchy, aye? Hah. Quite de place..."

"Yes, Captain. And I expect you to be on your best behavior, am I correct?"

The Shark's grin seems to get a little wider.
"Oh, Aye Lord, I c'n be alot more diplomatic than ye be thinkin'"

Valdyr nods. Grar rolls his eyes slightly, and Gull remains placid as they approach Macha.

Valdyr bows.
"Kvedja, Macha, and Kvedja Professor Inquietgo. It is good to see you doing well. Ah...

He gives the Mongrelfolk a slight glance.

"I would like you to introduce my newest Colonial Governor, Captain Jack Grinley, of the Ga'Shunk. He lead his people to me seeking asylum, and I was able to find them a place on Inislay. They have proved quite helpful in removing the local piracy problems. Captain?"

Captain Grinley takes off his hat and bows politely, still with that eerie grin.
"Cap'n Grinley, at yer service, mates."

"Greetings, Lord Valdyr," Macha said, visibly paling. She bowed."And... greetings, I guess... to you, too, Captain Grinley. I hope your trip was a pleasant one."

Valdyr nods.

"Indeed. With the Captain's help, we were able to make it here in half the time it usually takes, and with far better living quarters."

Grinley's Grin looks a little more proud.

"Aye. The Mako's quite a girl."

Grar pipes up.

"I still have no idea how you guys can stay out on the ocean so long... I hate it."

"It does look like a very nice ship," Macha said. "How fast does she go? And what's she made out of?"

Dibbuk returns Valdyr's glance with a slight nod.

Both Mrs. Palimpset and Professor Inquitego seem momentarily taken aback at Cap'n Grinley, but for COMPLETELY different reasons.

While Inquitego mutters one of his one-liners under his breath, Mrs. Palimpset slowly recovers from her excitement.
"Ahh... a new genus! And not only a new genus, but apparently an entirely new Class, if the external characteristics are to be taken as an indication."
She acquires a notebook from her robes, and begins scripting in concise but extremely legible script. However, she seems to have some difficulty with talking while writing...
It would appear that Lycanthropes are no longer restricted to hybridization with species of class mammalia, as they have in the past. A new subject has appeared possessing hybridization with a member of class chondrichthyes, a Carcharodon carcharias, unless I am mistaken. Investigation into the effect this may have on their base form follows."

Inquitego gives her a warning look, but she ignores it.

"Captain Grinley, I hope you will not mind if I ask a question or two? After all, as far as I know no proper documentation of your branch of Lycanthrope exists. Tell me... has this hybridization had any effect on your base form?"

Inquitego whispers in a warning tone, "Mrs. Palimpset...

A ship bearing the Empire's colors pulls into the dock. As the men move to secure the ship, Kalther leaves the ship with Aowyn. Aowyn breathes deeply of the air. "The cities of the Primarchy are very ... urbanized, it would seem," she says. As they leave the dock area, a herd of men in sailor's garb pile out of the ship and into the city for recreation.
When Kalther and Aowyn arrive, they both greet Macha. "It's been a while, Macha, good to see you," Aowyn notes.

Macha bows. "It is good to see you, too, Empress. And you, too, Lord Kalther. How was your trip?"

Inquitego seems to be feeling more his own self now that more evidence has arrived that he wasn't COMPLETELY off time.

"Ah, Empress Aowyn, and Lord Kalther. It's good to see you again! I apologize that I don't visit more often, but, well, you know how it goes with that whole 'arcane/divine nonintervention' thing the Society has. Totally not my idea, by the way. But still, wonderful to see you!"

He thrusts forth his hand for a jolly ol' handshake.

Kalther shakes Inquitego's hand pleasantly. "Not a problem. I can understand completely how rules and regs can get in the way of such things."
"The voyage was very enjoyable," Aowyn replies to Macha. "Since the pirate threat in the northern waters was neutralized, travel by ship has become much more pleasant."

Grinley turns his Grin to Aowyn.

"Glad 'ta hear yer problems ha' been lessend, Empress. It's good te see those who benefit from our actions."

Despite the content of his words, his grin still makes his words seem disconcerting.

Valdyr salutes Aowyn.

"Kvedja, Aowyn. It is good to hear that you are well."

Macha smiled. "Good. ...Which reminds me, actually. If you don't mind my asking, I don't suppose any of you have heard much about the mainland recently? I haven't really had the chance to get out much of late; the Primarch's been working on a bunch of major projects, so I've been cooped up, trying to get them done before the competition starts."

"Oh! Right! I almost forgot! Do you want any refreshments or anything? We're going to have dinner at the CommTower, once everyone gets here, but I'm supposed to tell you that we have some Spiced Ham-mead and a few bottles of Elven or Hobgoblin wine on hand, if you're thirsty."

"And you, Valdyr," Aowyn says. "It's been a while, I hope things are well within your lands?"
Kalther turns to Macha. "I do not think we will need refreshments at the moment, but thank you. Also, there has been no contact from the mainland, but then we have not attempted any communications to the mainland either."

Inquitego looks a little embarrassed. "Well, of course I have had contact with the mainland, recently even. Granted, while there, I don't get out much... but I have picked up some scuttlebutt at least."

A sudden wind whistled past the delegates, taking with it a brief fluttering sensation, as if some massive bird just flew past the listeners' eardrums, trailing thunder in its wake.

The guards twitched. Macha stiffened. She slammed her eyes and mouth shut, biting down hard on her lower lip, and dropped her face into her hands. Anyone paying attention would notice that the fingers of her left hand seemed unusually long--far longer than elven fingers should be, and a good three inches longer than the fingers on her right. The arm, too, appeared somehow different; it was thinner, and bent strangely, as if the elbow wasn't in the right place.

After a second, and a small moan, Macha glanced back up at the surrounding delegates.

"Sorry about that," she said, wiping sweat off her flushed face with her right hand. "I'm feeling a little stressed at the moment." A large, red stain had formed on both her lips, clashing slightly with her lipstick. "Right. Tonight's parade begins in three hours, so if we want to have time to get your delegations situated and set up, we should get moving.

"We'll give it five more minutes. If the other delegations aren't in sight by then, they'll just have to take the next t---I mean, I'll stay out here, and make sure they get passage once they get here.

She smiled thinly. A few trails of blood streamed from her mouth, pooling into a large, red bead at the bottom of her chin, before dropping onto the white sandstone steps below. "Right this way, please," she said, gesturing towards the door.