It is a late afternoon in summer, year 33 in the expansion of King Jorje according to the Britanan calendar and something truly epic is about to unfold. Across a wide stretch of land on the border of the northern territory, war is coming. The forces of the Britanan Empire travel steadily northwards down into the valley, while on the opposite side the Vaettir stalk towards them carefully. Neither side has caught sight of the other but it is only a matter of time, the distance separating them will be closed before sundown and the losses promise to be horrendous on both sides, such is the nature of the world of Relicia, ever since the Vaettir first crafted their destructive apocalyptic spell and plunged the world into chaos.

The results of the disaster had been varied initially but a common theme of loss has left all sides feeling hopeless as raw Maaj leaks across the land, corrupting all that it touches. The endless wars constantly waged far and wide serve as a welcome distraction from the inevitable doom that awaits Relicia and its peoples.

In the centre of the valley, the Puppeteer Jaksun weaves sporadically through the ranks of the amassed Britanan arm. A mock effigy of the puppet king, his bloodshot eyes peer out through a grotesque mask and roll in his head as he mutters indecipherable incantations and spells. His insane mumbled chanting entices the soldiers of King Jorje onwards to war and glory. Flailing his arms randomly, he marches to his own beat, a step forward followed by three steps back then a possible pirouette into a sideways lurch or some other unpredictable motion, completely out of sync with the merry tapping of the nearby Colour Party Drummer.

 The hollow boom of the drum sounds much more rhythmic and constant and the stern march of the Colour Party Sergeant accompanies the beat appropriately. Their sound and motion perfectly tuned to each other they appear to exchange a respectful nod as they march forward. The mutual trust and magical bond shared by the foot soldier puppets has been forged through countless battles fought and survived together; most recently they had endured bloody conflict in the east defending an outpost from a zealous Nuem uprising. During that conflict, their Colour Party Standard Bearer had been wounded and sent for repairs. A mechanical monstrosity of Nuem brilliance had managed to smash through their outer defences and had proceeded to tear the poor chap a new patch. Thanks to Puppeteer Jaksuns quick actions of redirecting a nearby Rifle Company that saved the Colour Party from complete destruction. The combined concentration of firepower from the Rifle Company halted the creature dead on impact.

None the less the bearer of the standard was present here today, the off tone replacement patch that adorned his lower torso barely noticeable as the surrounding troopers drew magical energy and inspiration from the glorious banner of King Jorje held high above his head. The revered tapestries hold a great weight to them both physically and mentally and are seeping with magic, to carry one is considered by many to be one of the greatest attainable honours available within the Britanan military and only hardened veterans who have proven their worth and survivability can be put forward for consideration when allocating this important duty. The Maaj seeps outwards through the ranks of the assembled horde as he marches steadily a few paces ahead of the front line, inspiring the soldiers of the 17th Elmaro expansion as they observe the thickly woven banner he steadily sways from left to right.

There will be more tomorrow... if you want to check out more information about Relics, have a look at the Tor Gaming website.