HATCHET OF USYL - 41A.C.

Tide

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Jonas wiped the cloth over his oiled blade, staring into the unclearness of his own reflection. The man sighed and placed the sword down upon his desk. "I had wished that I could wed my loved one in peace. I had wished that we could have years of peace. But the time has come where my lord calls upon me and I must answer, for it is my sworn duty. The Sun shall drink of blood once more, The Vulture shall feast, and the sons of Vlach shall raise their weapons for His Majesty Godfrey and the crown once again! Usyl, grant me strength."
Then when all calmed down, the man sighed and carried his weapon on his hip. For it would soon see use.
 
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Sukitoru

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Kine pouts about it, because she might not be able to get sleep with the sounds of Fyrmani and Calendale screams, hollers and steel all through the day and night.
 
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Pyrias

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From the quiet, serene island of Heiyeong, a certain lady straightened out her back and readjusted her straw hat. Underneath the fiery sun, she wiped the sweat from her brow and set aside the sickle for now. Then, the peaceful silence was broken. The squabbling of the lady's children was made evident in the distance, prompting a sigh from the weary mother. Taking a moment to settle down from her recent harvesting of the fields of Heiyeong, Becky shook her head and crossed the bridge, heading into the main part of the village.

Passing by plenty of villagers and travelers alike that were interested in the village, the Wiccan lady's attention was drawn to murmurs and news that traveled quickly around Enarion: there was to be another war. Frowning deeply in dissatisfaction, Becky shook her head and muttered under her breath to herself,
"Wha'ever happened t' th' Hundred's Court? Simpler times, ah' tell y'." Crossing over towards the farms, the lady had forgotten what she originally left for.

And with that, she once more stepped into the lion's den of her own house, greeted with her daughter practically bouncing off of the walls, and her son being spiteful over his sister calling the stone lettering outside his room dumb. It was a rowdy sight to be welcomed back to, but one the mother couldn't help but smile faintly over. After all, she had secured a safe, quaint abode for her family. Specifically away from all the political turmoil the other nations took such delight in engaging in.
 

Capace

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“Wow.” Roskr would state. The tiresome nomad would shake his head. He turns to his new friends, readying his ship to set sail!
 

milkyi

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Astrikya sat there on the dock, wondering how one managed to get caught in a war only 9 years after the previous. “War again, it is always something ano?” she muttered, disappointed though happy she’d fled when she did.
 
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Cubicita

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[!] Throughout the Legia Manor, a long and painful yell screeched in the midst of the hallways. Maricn pounded his fist alongside his wall, nearly bruising it from impact. "We shall never learn. Truly our race has a lot to learn." At last releasing himself from the wall, he'd turn to collapse ontop his bed, facing the roof above him. "War shall never rest. What was my reasoning to return if I am only coming back to yet another war, though at least not alongside us."
 

AnagramMewon

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Felicia Goldman was there when the Hatchet was handed towards the Tsarina. She watched and sat idly by as her nation leader exchanged words with the messenger who carried the symbol of war. When she had come home, she was sick of it. She was thinking of moving, of leaving her home for another.

But no longer. It had been a while since the declaration was spread throughout Enarion, and now her resolve was stronger than ever. She can't run any longer, this place was her home. If Calendale wants to destroy it, to burn this city to the ground, she'll run through the flame blade in hand.
"Calendale's done nothing but created chaos and conflict. No matter their justification, I'm going to defend this city to the damn grave." She said to herself, gearing up to prepare for her daily chores, bringing some extra supplies with her in case she meets anyone from Calendale. She'll bide her time, talk to some friends. She won't let Calendale's actions go unnoticed.
 

Ryanark

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Marshal Godwine stood before his mustered troops in formation, the war banner of Calendale waving fervently in the wind over them as he signals the long march to the cold gates of Fyrmana. He stood and observed as the thousands marched, hands behind his back with a coy smile as he turned his face to the North.
"Enough yf thys childes play, arrogant outlanders. Yt is time fer th'real men to step yn. Thys conquest wyll be a fyne addition to my medals."
 

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