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Fastolf

Nations of this world:

http://www.sofurry.com/page/285999/user

Map of this world:

http://www.sofurry.com/page/283987/user

This is a project I promised to Fastolf a long time ago. It is based on his ideas and a world he created. It was my job to create a nation that would somehow fit with his ideas and nations he had already set up. The only idea that belongs to myself in this story is the existence of my nation and the people within. Fastolf has approved of this project and with that I wil be alternating projects from now on.

This is the story that explains the Chaos in which countries are formed. The strongest are the only ones that bring out survivors. The Survivors, endure and prosper, the dead fade from memory and are absorbed back into the land. We are going to look into one of the most prosperous nations now in existence. This is where I will choose to begin.

The Dragons of the Tempest are a powerful race. Ones long regarded as nomads among the Tempestuous Stretch in the wild-lands of a country known as Wiroch, on a planet known as Osa. Long considered useless lands full of nothing but volcanoes and it's savage reptilian peoples. Killing all Furs daring to cross into the lands. Guardians of the Lowlands, they had called themselves. Their legend grew in the land to the east, known as Drothar. Not of the people but of the weapons and armor they used. Drothar kept an eye on this land for years as the King named Olav ruled. He sent some messengers to the people many times, none ever returned. Guns of the Messengers took no lives and were sent back over the border into Drothar without the bodies.

This grieved his mind every time it happened. Eventually he gave new orders to his messengers.

"Do not cross into their land, instead let them come to the border and we shall see if they spare your lives. The Savages are offended at our presence in their lands. So we shall wait in ours."

The messengers were successful in their first attempt and were able to set up a meeting between King Olav and a dragon known as Tiralin Nuva. An impressive feat.

King Olav himself walked to the border as Tiralin patiently waited in her country's border. Several guards along with both of them. Olav's forces had Assault Rifles and standard military armor.

Tiralin's had heavy plated armor and Melee weapons ranging from Short Swords to War Hammers.

Olav's regal uniform held several medals and rankings. He stood straight and proud but carried the look of a weary old man.

Tiralin stood at 8'10" Her figure was slender and powerful. Her armor giving her the look of a risen Demon. Her scales were black and her eyes were gold. She held her helmet under her arm.

He was shorter than her but it seemed they were looking eye to eye. No greetings were exchanged. The conversation began all the same.

"What do you want?" She asked plainly.

"Only to know of the metals you use." He replied.

"What about them?" She paused.

Apparently she wasn't much of a talker.

"My men are unable to conquer your warriors. I simply assume it was your armor." He said.

Tiralin smiled and waved him off, as if he were a pest. "Warriors?" She mocked him. "The fools walked right into our traps on multiple occasions. Our tactics and abilities are simply superior, as well as our armor." She laughed. "Our children are able to spot your men as easily as we do."

Olav's face twisted with anger. "My men are the best in the world!" He stammered in rage.

"Then you must not live on this world." She said. "Even with superior weapons your men bite our steel like they are holding sticks, but even a skilled warrior with a stick would have been able to kill your pathetic excuses for soldiers."

This insult took him over the edge he took several steps back, Tiralin slipped on her helmet and it gave her a look of a dark Queen. She drew a sword and laughed. "Give the order!" She taunted.

"Kill them!" He yelled. All of his soldiers lifted their weapons and fired.

All of the Dragons lurched forward as bullets struck them. Not a single one fell.

Their weapons sliced and smashed into his best soldiers. Blood stained the ground and some of them tried to retreat, no such luck. Within seconds all of them were dead. All of the dragons stood silently as Tiralin slowly walked to Olav.

"That was a poor decision." She said as she removed here helmet and slipped it under her arm again.

Olav stood firm as she approached. Wishing dearly to run, but he did not let it show.

"It seems I underestimated your strength." He seethed. Tiralin came to a stop in front of him.

"It seems to happen a lot" She replied. "Though I would think a revered King would make me suffer for such arrogance." She challenged.

This woman dared to insult him in his Kingdom! "How dare you?" He said. "You think I won't get your metals you are severely mistaken. As of now these mountains belong to me!"

"You will have to pry these lands from our Osan reclaimed flesh!" She was serious. She intended to deny him. No matter how superior his nation was compared to these savage lands.

"You're mad!" He yelled. "You cannot hope to overcome us!"

Tiralin laughed at him. "I do not need your hope! We will be victorious in every sense of the word. My people will not surrender these lands to the Disrespecters of Osa!" She spat.

Olav simply turned to leave, angry as ever. None of the dragons attempted to stop him, but Tiralin offered some parting words.

"I don't suppose I'll see you leading your men on the battlefield?" She asked mockingly. She turned and walked back into her country. She put on her helmet and signaled for her guard to follow.

Olav clenched his fists and continued to walk to his vehicle. "Stubborn bitch." He cursed. "She will spell the death of all her people.

Within weeks of the discussions, The Drotharian army was set to attack Wiroch. No Dragons were even so much as seen during their pre-campaign setup on the border. Several highly trained and heavily armed scouts were sent in to gain a foot-hold. None of them were ever seen again, and no calls of help were received. They simply vanished. King Olav received news of this and ordered the full attack upon Wiroch and the extermination of all it's Savages. They moved in as ordered, expecting no opposition. They walked with arrogance and were blinded by it. Once they had walked deep within the Tempestuous Mountains, something wholly unexpected had happened. Dragon warriors seemed to rise from the stones they walked on, their armor was camouflaged with the colors of the terrain. They were surrounded and infiltrated, walking over them without even giving a thought. Some lost their balance as Dragons moved under their feet. Most of the Drotharian brigade was dead or severely wounded within the first thirty seconds. All were mercilessly slaughtered. Except the highest ranking one, he was sent back to his king with a message. Requested by a Dragon calling herself Tiralin

The fur was brought to his King and forced to a kneel in front of the throne, to explain for his grave failure to his country.

"Speak." Olav ordered simply once the beaten fur had knelt.

"My lord." The general said weakly. "I bring a message from the one called Tiralin."

Olav cringed in anger at her name. "You dare return from a battle where you should have been killed, To bring me a message?" He demanded calmly.

"She said I was more useful alive." the General replied.

"Tell it to me." Olav ordered.

"She says; These warriors you sent are no better than the ones before. You cannot overcome us with rabble." The Generals face twisted with anger as he finished. "The only thing I find myself hoping for is a challenge."

Olav pounded his fist on the arm rest. "I will not allow this to continue any longer. I want more military strength moved to Wiroch immediately!"

"Sire!" One of the councilors said suddenly. "We are already stretched thin as it is. Any deviated power will leave some of our cities in critically short supply and defense."

"Once we have the metal of the savages, our army will be considerably more effective. It is a risk I'm willing to take." Olav replied, with annoyance growing in his voice. "Do as I say!" He ordered

Several more weeks pass and very few victories were held over the Tempest Dragons. Tiralin fought hard and without mercy. Their strategy was to strike hard, fast and unexpectedly. She kept tabs on all Drotharian troops and vehicles on the Wiroch side of the border. Each battle cost her 3 troops on average. She would not be able to hold Drothar forever. More vehicles were showing up every day, these were the bigger threats. She ordered her troops to scavenge weapons from the Drotharians. These helped considerably against the smaller vehicles. The unstable ground and many earthquakes took care of the larger ones. Tiralin herself led many raids and ambushes against the enemy, she did not take kindly to being told to sit back. This war raged on for many months before the tables began to turn against the Tempests. They fought hard to keep their land from the invading forces, but their numbers were getting to be too much. For the Dragons, there were no reinforcements. They pleaded for help from the other Scales within Wiroch. Very few showed up to fight with them, but Tiralin was thankful nonetheless.

One particularly quiet day She ordered all of the troops remaining to gather for a speech she planned to give. Once they all had, She stood directly in front of the crowd with her few advisers and guards she had.

"My brothers and sisters." She said with a yell to quiet the troops, now it was dead silence. "We have fought a great war with our neighbors these last few months. Trying to keep our resources secret is no longer an option. Drothar knows what we have and will dominate our lands to exploit them. I am proud of each and every one of you for the services you provide to me, and the people farther inland that have no idea that we fight desperately to preserve the little country we have. I will fight to the end with you if that is what is required, an end full of pain for the ones from Drothar. I do not expect all of you to die with me in these fields in the future, this is an enemy we cannot fight alone. Anyone who is not prepared to die should leave now!"

The crowd exchanged glares with each other. A few mumbles sprang up here and there but none spoke to object. They were all expecting an arousing speech, calling them to arms. It seemed after all was said and done not a single Scale, Tempest or otherwise, had walked away.

Tiralin smiled. "I know not the reasons each individual Scale has chosen to fight for this country. We have only been bound by our loose co-operations until recent days. So you are all willing to die for, and with each other?"

The crowd gave a small roar of affirmation to her. Her smiling continued as she waited for them to quiet down.

"I can see a great future for us my friends, if we are indeed victorious. Hold on to that vision. For if our people stand victorious over a greater power than ourselves, Osa will hear our names and look to us when they struggle against increasingly steep odds. They will sing songs of our valor and draw strength from them! We can teach much to the world and learn even more! Are these things you are all willing to die for?!"

The crowd cheered. Becoming increasingly drawn in by her charisma.

"Then prove to the world that we can be better! Show them your resolve and crush those who impose upon us! Our people will hear of our victories and flock to join their fight, our fight! Our numbers must grow my friends, and I want you all to count on it! Osa will sing of our victory!"She finished.

The Scales were impressed and cheered the name of Tempest.

"For Wiroch!" She yelled. The crowd chanted the name of the country they had long held without challenge. Now at war with a far superior nation. Tiralin with a slight smile whispered to herself. "Until deaths embrace." She promised.