It is the 13th day of the month and the 12th hour has just dawned in Maelstrom. High Lord Victus Thrax has gathered his retinue and those willing to attend this ceremony at Maelstrom's memorial of swords. The same field that Victus had prepared for the dead and unrecovered of the Gyre war. Attendees stand among the blades of the fallen, with a raging bonfire having been sent at the epicenter of the field. Victus has sat here for the past few hours, meditating upon the work yet to be done. When all is gathered and the hour at turns over to the 13th, it begins.

"Tonight, I am here to show you my vision of the world. Of the dream. Of how I would shape it and most importantly, how I would help it." The High Lord begins, addressing the crowd. "I show you this because our world must be healed. Because it is our duty be it as noble or common, good or evil, and light or dark to restore what has been lost. Tonight, I perform this duty. Tomorrow, one of you will perform this duty. Then another, and another, and another..." Victus draws in a breath as he stares into the flames. "Here we go."

The first item he brings before the fire is a red and aqua banner of House Thrax.

"My first vision is one of home." He explains. "Thrax. The Mourning Isles. Where I was born and where I hope to rest when my time here is done. My House is my calling, my service to its name is everything to me. Every step I take, every motion I make, it will always be for Thrax. For Home. Never will my vision exist without my House present. This is what this banner represents to me." He casts the banner into the flames.

The second item he holds is an armful of children's toys. Wooden swords, tiny makeshift boats, rattles, teddy bears and other plush animals.

"My second vision are my children." Victus speaks, a far-off look in his eyes tonight. "The world surprises me in many ways throughout my life. The most surprising perhaps is the very idea that I would bear children and come to love my offspring as much as any father could. I had never thought a day would come where I would cosign so much of my life to nurturing a babe. So much time dedicated to love. Astrid. Danse. Siggy. Delia. In each of their faces I have seen a new light. When I look to these simple toys, I see that light reflecting back at me. Hope." He casts the toys into the flames.

The third item brought forward is a simple sash of aeterna.

"My wife." Victus' eyes reflect a fondness. "It is the duty of nobility to marry and solidfy their family's influence. Yet so few marriages end in finding one that completes you. I say it with no doubt in my heart that Alarissa has filled a spot in my life, perhaps even in my soul that I would have never guessed. She was once a griffon, next a drake, and now one of the many serpents that coil around our homeland. With her, I have security. The sturdy platform that reminds me that in the end, we will prevail. No matter the odds. These little pieces of fabric, the expensive and the flashy will always remind me of her." He casts the sash into the flames.

The fourth item he takes into hand is but a stone, carved with a simple rune.

Victus stares at this little trinket for sometime before he's able to speak on it. "Mother. I have so many thoughts for this part of my vision. Yet, so few actual words to do them justice." He turns the runestone over in his hand. "In her spirit I found something I'd been looking for, for a very long time. Purpose. How to live my life not in excess, but as a man of my station should. Were it not for her, I wouldn't have taken the pathes I have. I wouldn't have realized the right choices. For that... she will always be a part of me. One I will always cherish." He casts the runestone into the flames.

The fifth item is a bundle. Unwrapped from its linens, it reveals a group of seashells.

These bring a grin to Victus' face. "I've collected these from every Isle where Thrax holds dominion. Tyde Hall. Grihem's Point. Escuma. Redkeep. Astarrea. Whitefrost. New Hope. Redreef Shores. Darkwater Watch. Stormward. More. Each of these pieces come from the shores of Thrax's people. The people who I serve, the people who I swore an oath to protect. The people of the salt. Their hopes, their dreams, their survival. All things that I hope to see prosper in my dream of the world." He tosses the shells into the flame, one by one.

The sixth item is a familiar one. An unopened bottle of rum.

This one Victus looks on with a frown. "I see a lot of things when I look at this bottle. Merriment, yes. Comfort also. But tonight I look at it in a different light. Tonight, the only thing I see myself holding is a vessel of regret." The High Lord grimaced. "I did many stupid things that ended in me staring at the bottom of the bottle. I was a brutish man. A cruel man. A man who took no responsibility seriously. A man much less than who I aspired to be. Insecurity and doubt wracked my days beneath this bottle. In this self-reflection, I acknowledge these mistakes as mine and mine alone to carry. Though I have atoned for much, I still see a stretch of road left ahead of me. It is my vision to free myself of who I was, so I may propser as who I truly am." He casts the rum into the fire.

The seventh item Victus brings forward is an old, beaten axe handle.

"My first weapon." He speaks and then he chuckles grimly. "It lost its head ages ago, broken off and fallen into the sea. It is a momento of my past. A past that I look on often for guidance and lessons as I move into the future." He raps the top of the handle against his palm. "I recall carrying this with me through much of my childhood. Through the days I was punished or rewarded by my Uncle. Through the days of training to lead, to fight. To follow my elders and have my cousins follow me while they were small. When I swung for my first honorable kill. When I led my first band of soldiers into the breach." The memories pass by fondly. "I'd never forget where I came from. Never in my vision of the world." He tosses the handle into the flames.

The eighth item he has is not present at first. Rather, it appears exactly when its supposed to. Victus reaches for the left arm of his coat and tears a fresh article of leather from it.

"This coat has served me for years. Weathered storms. Blocked blades and arrows. It has as many scars as I've collected and yet, still it serves as my hide. Protects me from harm." Victus lets out another chuckle. "I wouldn't trade this coat for anything. For me it represents what I find to be the greatest quality any can have, and one I have aspired to nurture for all my time. The strength of perseverance. The strength to endure. The strength to keep going. The rock that sits in the center of the river, a literal tapestry of the lands I've walked and the dangers I've faced. It is as much a part of me as my own flesh and bones." He tosses the leather scrap into the flames.

The ninth item is presented as a broken sword.

"Another momento of mine." Victus explains. "I took this from a battlefield, long ago. Whether it was Tyde Hall, whether it was the Silent War, whether it was simply a reaving... I have no idea. But now I use this as a vessel of my dream. Of the battles I have fought. Of the honor I have sought to bring in every fight against the Compact's enemies, to the light I hope to outshine the darkness of the Abyss that we work to defend against. I have fought many battles. I will fight in many more. It will always be a part of me. Likely one day, I will day by battle. Whether that is to be or not to be is not up to me... But until then, I must acknowledge what I excel at. And how I will continue to bring honor by the sword, axe, mace, and everything else. This is what this broken, weathered piece of steel represents to me." He tosses the sword into the flames.

The tenth item brought forward is a rather luxurious one. It is a breastplate made of the finest high quality steel, covered in emblems and honors of Thrax proper. Ceremonial.

"I owe Thrax many things. Not the least of which is our sense of tradition. For the institutions that have held my seat and my charge together are where we draw our strength as a people." Victus lifts the breastplate high, letting the waning sun catch its glint. "I do not wish to live in a world where we've forgotten homage to our deepest traditions. Hence I cosign this piece of it to the fires, so this vision of mine might burn brightly. May we never stray far from our roots. May it last long." He tosses the breastplate into the flames.

The eleventh item is soft linen bag, jingling with the weight of stones inside it. "Never call me a creative man, for you would be very wrong."

Within its contents is a series of pearls. "I've had a pearl fashioned to represent those who are dear to me. Not in the sense of bloodline. Not in the sense of their service to the Isles. But simply in their camraderie. Companions. Friends. I have few of them. I have just as many as I need as well." He lets the pearls fall into his palm, one after another. "And the pearl is perhaps my favorite stone. Christened straight from the ocean. I use them to show my appreciation for those who have aided my journey up to this point and how important their contribution to my world has been. Their names are close in my heart as I cosign these symbols to the flames..." He tosses the pearls into the fire.

The twelfth item is perhaps a strange one for any but an islander to be using. It is three inches of iron chain.

"The chains are a fickle symbol." Victus says with a demure expression. "Used to bind. For darkness and for light. They are but a tool, however. A tool that is shaped by its creator's vision. Tonight, I share it with a noble purpose. I share it to invoke a dream of mine that I have held since I was a little one. Unity. United as a people. United as the Isles. United against the darkness, united against the creatures that would sack our homes, united in survival. United in purpose. United in duty. United in honor. This chain stands to show all of these things. As a strong link. A link to bond, not in slavery, but in a shared noble purpose." He casts the chains into the flames.

Finally, they arrive to the thirteenth and final offering of the rite. Victus holds nothing.

For awhile, there is nothing but silence. Victus' gaze remains locked onto the flames. "Loyalty is perhaps the most important quality I aspire to see in everyone. I have spoken much of oaths, promises, pledges, responsibilities and duty tonight. Preaching almost of their importance. Of adhering to tradition, of learning from one's mistakes, of valuing those around us. What kind of man would I be if I did not reaffirm these things myself?" Slowly he draws that alaricite axe from his back. "I make my final offering as a pledge. A reaffirming of things I spoke before the Gods long ago. I seal it with something of my own body. For this is the strength of my loyalty to my ideals, my principles and my cause."

Victus cuts the braided ponytail he sported, half of his hair gone just like that as the alaricite slices through it like nothing. As the strands flutter, he holds the tail over the flame - the ends catching fire as the flames travel upwards. His own hand getting singed. "We fight. We protect. We guard. Not for ourselves. Not for our own glory, but for the preservation of the world. I will uphold. I will not bend or break. I will fight to preserve." Every word comes with conviction. Conviction that is added to the flames, for the rite's benefit.

Then he draws his hand away, a fresh burn on the back of it as the rest of his cut locks fall into the pyre. Thirteen things offered on the thirteenth hour of the thirteenth day. In the heart of Thrax, Maelstrom. Victus slowly raises his head and looks upon the embers. Looks upon what he has done here today. "I can only hope this is enough. I want you all to hope with me. Carry that hope with you when you perform this yourselves. For our world will be made stronger by it."

With that, their grim business is complete.

Alarissa is present in Maelstrom as the ritual is started and has been through it all - that is a piece of Aeterna from her dress after all. She stands quietly, with their oldest daughter standing in front of her, warm cloaks around their shoulders and observes.

Lethe is there to watch Victus perform the ritual. She plans to pay close attention and learn the rite of cleansing.

Magpie watches the ritual as quietly as the others, but partway through he reaches an arm around Harper's shoulders and draws her close in an embrace that he doesn't release until the High Lord has finished.

Mikani watches her dark eyes taking in the ritual as if memorizing it and giving it the reverence it deserves. In the moment she feels the one-ness of the group.

Auda's hear to support and witness, nothing more. She watches closely, as if she's trying to memorize the night and all it encompasses.

Nuala remains an attentive participant at the ritual, playing close watch to everything that Victus does. She may take notes afterward, but everything she does is focused wholly upon the specifics of the rite.

Vanora observes the ritual attentively, attempting to commit the basics to memory. She listens to Victus' words with reverence and respect, sincerely thanking him for the opportunity to do so.

Jasher stands in attendance, a black wraith in silent vigil amidst Maelstrom's memorial of swords. He will listen to Victus' words with varying degrees of emotion flickering like the firelight across his face; some of the High Lord's paths tread closer to his than others, it seems. At the end, when the thirteenth offering is made and the words are spoken, Jasher will /hope/. He will /dare/ to hope that it will be enough.

Harper is there in her full armor, standing straight and at attention as Victus performs his ritual. She will watch and learn, as requested, deep respect shining on her face at the High Lord's words.

On the 13th hour of the 13th day, Victus gathers people to watch his rite of cleansing. "Tonight, I am here to show you my vision of the world. Of the dream. Of how I would shape it and most importantly, how I would help it." The High Lord begins, addressing the crowd. "I show you this because our world must be healed. Because it is our duty be it as noble or common, good or evil, and light or dark to restore what has been lost. Tonight, I perform this duty. Tomorrow, one of you will perform this duty. Then another, and another, and another..." Victus draws in a breath as he stares into the flames. "Here we go."

Even now, even before the ritual starts, a feel of heavy duty lays across everyone's shoulders. Victus stands tall though, and as he feeds that first thing to the flames - a banner of aqua and red, the symbol of House Thrax - even as he gives that to the flames there is the knowledge that this man is very aware of the burden that lays upon his shoulders. Heavy the weight of his duty, and everyone in the room knows how seriously he takes that.

He speaks of the honor of the House. Of the responsibility he has to care for it, to guide Thrax into the future. Of his love for his children, his hope that they will inherit a better future. Of his wife, who provides a stability for him even as he forges a new path for Thrax. Of his mother. A rock, with a rune on it. To symbolize his mother - and in that moment, that sense of heavy responsibility becomes something more.

As they stand for Victus' rite, watching him, all of them hear the sounds of battle dimly, as though the clang of swords is distant and untouchable. And yet there is a lifting of their spirits as he speaks of right choices, of duties befitting his station. There's a change in the air now as he adds seashells and a bottle of rum, and an old axe handle. Leather and mementos from the past, given to the fire. Symbols of hope, of old evils left behind, of new paths to forge anew.

And then he speaks of unity, offering chains and lastly a braid of his hair. And he speaks of loyalty and hope. It's a good vision, and together they listen to the sounds of battle - coming closer, moving away - but the feel of it changes. Where before there was grim duty and future slaughter, now there is the righteous battle to protect all that is loved. Everything he holds dear. The man has been by turns brutish and self-serving, and kind and self-sacrificing. And as the ritual concludes the fire suddenly flares, for a moment too bright to view, too bright to withstand.

And then it ebbs again, and they are left with a feeling of hope, taking a breath in this new moment where the High Lord of Thrax is a fighter for justice, and for right, and for a future of freedom for all. He is changed, cleansed anew with the ritual and by his will. And nothing will ever be quite the same.

"People of the Mourning Isles. I come being the bearer of bad news. We are beset upon by by an enemy who shrouds himself in his ignorance. He has bent the knee to those who would destroy the world, taken every evil in his path for power. The Deep 'King' and his followers hold onto a dying past which they seek to rebuild on top of our ashes. For one thousand years Thrax has held these Isles together with the force of our might and we shall do so by a fucking thousand more.

The Isles will stand united as one. One fleet, one legion, one order to destroy the tide of darkness that seeks to swallow us all. Bear arms and army, ready yourselves across the deck. The time of Thrax is now and forever. We do not fall.

Tears in our wake, never at our wake.."

After fighting and dying against the forces of the Gyre for centuries and then some, High Lord Victus Thrax has launched an ultimatum: No inch of ground will be given without wading through an ocean of blood. The Maelstrom has stood the test of time and the Gyre's fleet shall not be appropriately named so long as he stands.

Victus calls the banners from every corner Thrax's influence reaches. Forces that owe allegiance to the Sea Serpent's banner and Allies of the Mourning Isles are called to join. The High Lord himself will be donning the mantle of General and Ruler, calling all armies and fleets to the Maelstrom to organize into one solidified presence. The 1st Thrax Fleet and the 1st Thrax Marines alike. Those with the skill of diplomacy and propaganda are asked to send his message through every street and upper echelon, to motivate and drive every Thraxian in defense of their home. In survival as a race.

Grimhall, Tyde and all vassals below them will receive similar calls to action and be invited to participate. The might of the Grim Legion, Tyde's Fleet and all those like them that would pledge support in this pact. Whether it's soldiers, agents, smugglers, diplomats, or priests offering prayer - all are welcome. All are going to be needed in this coming battle, and Victus calls them all.

He dubs this unified front "The Mourning Onslaught". He will spend his preparation ensuring that the name will be heard as a beacon of hope for all as its strength is soon to be put to the test.

Duke Grimhall sends his heralds throughout the domains loyal to his house. The letter they read is not subtle: all warships are summoned to battle. The foe which approaches is the enemy our race was born to fight, all true hearted warriors of Mourning blood will join the coming battles. Of the rest, any who refuse will be held in scorn and named faithless before Gods and men, treated as traitors once the war is won.

When Victus makes his declaration to Thrax and calls for the banners, Alarissa is standing there beside him literally and figuratively as a proper High Lord's wife - in the traditional sense - a solemn, respectful and calm figure, even going so far as to make sure she's holding the heir to thrax who has been carefully wrapped and swaddled in that thraxian shade of red.

In the subsequent days, she's visiting noble houses of those in the Thrax fealty, both high and low that Fatima hasn't. Where it is the liberal leaning houses, she brings Astrid with her, conversing with the house so that she can have with her a visual reminder of the change that they have been fighting for, has happened and the future that each house if they throw their full might or as many as they can spare, into helping overcome the pirate king. She's not above using her daughter for a little propaganda pimping. Yes, the wives if the nobles even get to hold her if they want and start the threads of their investment her future and that of Thrax - and in turn theirs and their children. The losses will be hard, but they are Thrax. They know hard and how to overcome and Alarissa is proud to have married into such strong and able people. That she looks up to them in these tumultous days for the strength to help Victus lead and protect all that they and she hold dear.

For the more traditional houses, she goes with Victus, having fed him the lines that he likely needs to speak if he needs them. She borrows a line so recently heard from Harald and encourages them to do the best thing for Thrax and that's to set sail with all that they have and can spare and "Make their ancestors jealous" of the stories that will be told in the days to come. She plays that part of proper wife, not a hair out of place and with complete confidence that Thrax will get through this with their full support.

Then there's the ladies. The wives of the sailors, the soldiers, the supporters of the men who lead, the ones who manage the finances and at times, know how to tip a spouse one way or the other to what they want and to make it seem like it was the spouse's choice. To tea she invites them, small intimate affairs of 'frank' conversations. It's going to be hard and in truth, some spouses will not be coming home. This is the fight for thier lives and the odds will be so much better if the full might of the fealty combines into the Onslaught. They are in for a battle, a war that has been a long time coming and it's time to face it with all weapons, at the ready. Even if it's just ones two hands tearing up cotton to make bandages to be used to help with the wounded.

Fatima, as a Voice and Princess of Thrax, is taking her place in gathering the banners. She starts by visiting all the Thrax nobles in Arx, having quiet, one-on-one conversations with every lord that has soldiers, sailors, or influence. She spreads out to the more distant lords next via letter, and then personal visits when necessary. She reminds them of the might of House Thrax, the alternatives of failure, and the rewards to be gained for a successful campaign. And above all else, she's going to go personally visit every noble that previously showed fear for her and ensure their banners are called.

Margot calls the banners of all of the Tyde Vassals to support the efforts to fight the Gyre. Insisting that the Northlands turn out (and quietly insinuating that she will be very disappointed if they can't put out a better showing than the Grimhall vassals).

As General of the Thrax Marines and by very nature of their status, Galen knew his men would be ready to fight. His cousins and diplomats had no doubt reached out to every noble across Arx, but Galen was different than the others, he certainly had many of the same connections, maybe even more than some, but, he also had the benefit of having literally sailed to every known port in the compact, a few very strange ones, and even Port Defiance, though this he didn't speak of openly.

Regardless the Prince knew how desperate these times were, so he summoned together his crew, his most trusted loyal men, and gave them some simple instructions, "Send word, by whatever means as far and wide as you can...To everyone, and I mean everyone who has ever had our aid in any way shape or form, let them know I am not asking for such in return, but now I need help, and I would appreciate such." his crew knew what that meant. You see, the Prince was known on the seas for both being a force of swift justice when needed, and the saving hand of grace, to people of good, or questionable character who found themselves in trouble and in his path, though if we are being honest, often Galen's path was directed toward them. His men would carry out his command with haste, to those around the isles and beyond, merchants, mercenaries, various ports, no doubt even to some of the Abandon themselves.

Galen know what was at stake, he wondered if the reason he was given what he had been given and done the things which he had done, had all been for the culmination of this moment, of this action, a need so great that he himself had to risk all favor he had earned, all alliances he had made, after all, this wasn't just for him, or his family, this was for everyone!

Magpie receives the notice from Victus and stares at it intently for a long time. Then the man stands before his people -- the Free Nation of Magpie (A Grayhope Enterprises Division) -- he raises his voice loudly, and calls out, "Magpie! Will you help Thrax in this battle?! Will you stand strong and fight with them?! Will you follow Victus Thrax to the tentacles of death?!?" ... The man lets silence settle, then finally answers himself. "Probably. If I have nothing else going on that day."

When it is time to raise banners, what can a commoner do? Answer the call, of course. But is there anything more?

Sparte has decided to speak with others of his choice to join Thrax in their darkest hour. To sign on with the banners in the face of the deadliest foe they've known since the reckoning. His audience may be Crownsworn and Prodigals, mainly, but he speaks to those in Arx who still seek a purpose for themselves or have had one stolen.

"I am not someone who was destined for greatness. I am no prince or lord. I herded sheep." Sparte gives a self effacing chuckle. "But when times were dark, and the Iron Guard gave the call, I answered. With so many others, I helped hold these walls. Just as I now stand to protect Thrax. Not because of faith in myself or the gods, but because of faith in people. Because I believed that there are those unable to protect themselves who are deserving. I don't know who they are. They may be mothers and fathers, they made be children, the sick or infirm. Injured soldiers who fought for us once, and can no longer raise a blade themselves. They may be righteous souls or cads and blagarts, I don't care. When true evil rises against the compact we know in our hearts if he has the strength to stand and fight."

"I am not asking you to follow me, I am not even asking you to join me in pledging to Thrax. I am asking you to find that fire within your own hearts. To recognize that no matter how dark the day may seem, the light of tomorrow must be fought for to see it through. All I want from you is to be able to say, when times were dark, others stood with me. Please stand with me, if you can. For those who cannot."

At the call by Victus, Catalana is compelled to have the people listen. Wanting to make her family proud, this Lady Kennex speaks to all of the nobles with the reach of her voice and beyond to plea that in order to survive this, we must unite. "Please....this is no time for petty squabbles. This is a time to set aside differences and to unite as people! We will face this head on and show our enemies that this is not a group that is divided...but united!"

Caspian Wild is going into every tavern and inn of Arx, singing renditions of popular Thraxian war songs that have a twist of being about fighting for The Mourning Ises and Thrax against The Gyre, with the goal is to inspire Thraxians to join the fight. To help things along he'll be buying rounds of drinks.

Many people find it easy to be around Caith -- she has a friendly and unassuming air about her. She is also a passionate and evocative storyteller. Leaning on these qualities, she goes around visiting various vassals. She spends many an evening with them by the fire, sharing a drink or two, listening to tales of their past glories and trading stories of heroic deeds.

The princess tells them tales of legendary heroes, of battles won, of days saved when all hope was thought to be lost. And as they sit together by the warm, rosy glow of the fire with drinks in hand, she tells them that it is in moments such a these -- this precipice that they all find themselves on -- when heroes rise up and legends are made. She points out that she can only tell these stories now because people, when faced with the toughest options in the darkest hour, made the brave choice. They stood up. They answered the call. If they had not, their names would have faded into obscurity until they were entirely forgotten; however, their heroic actions granted them immortality, their names and deeds living on beyond them.

Caith urges the vassals to become heroes themselves. Their deeds today will become the legends that will be spoken of for all time. Glory and honor!

High Lord Victus steps up next, calling on all Thraxians to prepare to set sail. No inch of ground, he declares, will be given without wading through an ocean of blood. Forces that owe allegiance to the Sea Serpent's banner and Allies of the Mourning Isles are called to join.

Duke Harald hears the call and stands now not just as Duke but as Warlord of Thrax. All warships are summoned to battle. All true hearted warriors of Mourning blood will join the coming battles. Any who refuse will be scorned and named faithless before Gods and men.

Princess-Consort Alarissa stands ready, solemn and respectful and calm, exhorting by diplomatic turn those who the others fail to reach. To progressive houses she brings Princess Astrid, encouraging them to respond to the call to banners while holding the visible reminder of the change they've been fighting for. She praises the strength of Thrax, knowing full well the might of the Isles and reminding them that this is the time to show that will and strength. To the more traditional houses she goes with Victus, encouraging them to make their ancestors jealous of the stories that will be told in the days to come. And of course, knowing how much power there is in the quiet talk of women she makes sure to speak with the women - whether they lead the houses or not - encouraging them to form a united front among progressives and traditionalists alike in supporting the call to banners.

Princess Fatima personally visits each noble Thraxian in Arx, using one-on-one conversations to encourage them as she might. She reminds them of the strength of Thrax, of the results failure may bring them, and the rewards for a successful campaign. She targets those who she knows already hold some awe (some might even say fear) of her, using intimidation where she can to its best effect.

Duchess Margot calls all Tyde sailors and vassals, insisting the Northlands turn out. In her own way she encourages them slyly - It sure would be a shame if Grimhall turned out more numbers than Tyde, wouldn't it? Let's not let that happen, shall we?

Prince Galen reaches out to people he's met in his travels across the land, asking everyone who has ever had Thraxian aid to come forth and join them. The Prince himself is well-known as a hospitable spirit, a man who will buy the drinks in a bar for complete strangers, and sometimes has a habit of turning up at just the right time when someone is in desperate need. And now it's time for old debts to be repaid.

Officer Sparte, newly in fealty to Thrax, shows his loyalty. Now he goes to the Crownsworn and speaks to them. I am not someone who was destined for greatness, he says. But with so many others I helped hold these walls. Just as I now stand to protect Thrax. Not because of faith in myself or the gods, but because of faith in people. Because I believed that there are those unable to protect themselves who are deserving. When true evil rises against the compact we know in our hearts if he has the strength to stand and fight. His speech wins the hearts of the commoners, and even more answer the call.

Lady Catalana emphasizes the need to stand together. Wanting to make her family proud, inspired to answer the call by Victus, she urges people to set aside petty squabbles and unite as people. To show their enemies that this is not a group divided, but united in one common goal! Meanwhile, Caspian visits the taverns and inns of Arx, singing renditions of popular Thraxian war songs. Everyone loves a good sea shanty, and every really loves to sing good sea shanties when someone else is buying the drinks.

Not to be left out, Princess Caith visits various vassals, spending evenings by the fire sharing a drink or two, listening to tales of their past glories, encouraging them to tell stories of heroic deeds. In turn she tells them of legendary heroes, battles won, of days saved when all hope was thought to be lost. And as they sit together by the warm, rosy glow of the fire with drinks in hand, she tells them that it is in moments such a these -- this precipice that they all find themselves on -- when heroes rise up and legends are made. She points out that she can only tell these stories now because people, when faced with the toughest options in the darkest hour, made the brave choice. They stood up. They answered the call.

With tales of glory, drinks in hand, with the urge to stand united, with diplomacy and orders and threats and cajoling, by any means possible the word goes out. Thrax is called to war!