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Early May, 1218 PAF A quaint, summer breeze blew through the port town of Salna. One of the smaller ports that dotted the coast of Glacies, and certainly one of the quieter ones. Or rather, it tended to be so. Recently, Salna had been quite lively, but in ways that the residents hardly appreciated. Hardship was something that Glacians simply accepted as a fact of life. Salna was no exception; only being a town and stable due to their favorable location, but that favorable location turned into a curse as Islexian pirates sailed into port, and began to make a mess of things. Islexian pirates were hardly anything new, but Salna was so small that the people never thought that they would land there. It had always been thought of as something that happened at larger ports, where the pirates would try to intercept goods, and give the residents hell. Salna was hardly a place that saw large shipments, and was hardly lucrative, but they came all the same. What the people of Salna failed to understand was that hatred need not be logical, and the Islexians detested Glacies. More accurately, they hated what Glacies had done; both their refusal to join them against the Lufirians twenty-six years ago, and their subsequent alliance with the Lufirians. Any chance to get back at the Glacian “traitors” was worth it to some. The port militia was ill trained and prepared to deal with the pirates, and was easily overrun. The Glacian military, still in its infancy, was unable to respond in any meaningful time. Glacies had always been able to afford to be lax, due to its natural barrier of the sea. Unfortunately for them, times were changing; the Islexians were slowly gaining better mastery of the seas, and were becoming bolder. They were targeting merchant ships at a much greater frequency, and success rate. Without a proper military, Glacies had to fall back on one of the few things it always could rely upon, its mercenaries. Even before Glacies had become the magical haven it was nowadays, it was its mercenaries that gave the country its start. It would be those very same mercenaries that would come to Salna’s aid. They called upon a mercenary outfit from one of the nearby towns, a group called the Iron Tigers. Fairly well known for their stellar track record in dealing with Islexian pirates, they were the immediate choice. Salna’s faith in the group was well founded. The encounter was short and quick; the pirates were dislodged from their foothold, routed and then handed over to the Salna militia. While it was clear what would happen to the pirates, the point was moot to the mercenaries. They’d come to protect the town, and to collect their pay. The lives of the pirates who saw Glacians as less than people were no longer their concern, especially because the pirates saw the Iron Tigers as even less than normal Glacians. The Iron Tigers were also known for another reason; being one of the few successful mercenary outfits that employed humans, Lufirians, monsters and the Clouded, or those of mixed heritage. The Islexians saw the Lufirians, monsters and the Clouded as affronts to nature that needed to be eradicated. Pure, unadulterated hatred, a hatred that was shared with much of the continent, if more tempered in other cases. To be anything other than human was to be marked for death in the eyes of the Islexians. But that was neither here nor there, the Iron Tigers were mercenaries, nothing more, nothing less. With the job finished, they were informed that their payment would arrive at their base, once everything in Salna had been set straight again. Their commander was informed of both the sudden increase in Islexian activity, and the sharp decrease in any shipments from their chief trading partner, Lufiria. With all they could do exhausted, the Iron Tigers set out for their home base in a small town not too far from the capital, Halkeginia. They returned late at night, deciding to leave their formal debrief until the following morning and would use that day as R&R. But not a single one of the Tigers would have ever expected that this quaint mission would be their last before being handed a request that would change all of their lives.

The year is 2174. The late 2000s and early 2100s were a time of tumultuous international conflict; only after almost fifty consecutive years of war, dotted with the barest of tentative peaces, did the governments of Earth come together to form the Council of Earth Nations - CEN. With a permanent core formed of one representative from each of Earth's twelve most powerful governments - frequently referred to as the Illustrious Twelve for their leading roles in unifying the Earth - to lead the organization, CEN has guided humanity towards prosperity since its founding in 2134. Humanity has prospered in this era of newfound peace. Resource conflicts on Earth are a distant memory; human ills - biological ills, at least - are fading away with advances in medical and cybernetic technology, with only the inexorable passage of time left to claim most lives; a firm overseeing hand balances the power of the world's individual governments. CEN has made it clear to its people. There are whispers of future achievements - dreams of genetic manipulation, nanomolecular implants to one day lift every life of its shackles - only whispers, in the minds of most. Were they to exist, they would be accessible only to the most privileged; those whose hands control corporate conglomerates whose names are indivisible from daily life, or the highest echelons of government. Most if not all on Earth live comfortable lives; and those who do live unaware of those who do not. Resource extraction from asteroid mining stations at L4 and L5, as well as planetary extraction on Mars, have enabled those on Earth to live each day believing their society has surpassed the notion of scarcity. However, for those whose lives are spent on Earth's colonies, life is often more scant. To find oneself afoul of the whims of local authorities - whether planetary government or a space station's corporate hierarchy - can quickly mean ostracization, especially in an environment where people are vastly interdependent. Unless one knows the... right people, of course. Discontent is far from a forgotten feeling for humanity, even if so-called homeworlders on Earth see fit to believe otherwise. The 40th anniversary of the founding of CEN rapidly approaches. Only a few months remain until Unification Day, and all seems in order; celebration preparations on a newfound scale are underway. However, with just those few months to go, a dingy transport vessel arrives late from its origin of the terraformed moon, Callisto. The ship's passengers look rather harrowed, and not from the month-long journey; no, it is the news they bear that worries them. They fled to Earth in fear of growing civil unrest; word begins to spread of the moon's government overstepping its authority one too many a time, and too harshly at that. Those with the funds to leave did so, along with a small detachment of Callistan politicians, who are conversely petitioning CEN for aid in stopping what they state is an anti-Earth movement. Eager to prove itself once more as humanity's peacekeeper but lacking in the full details of the situation, a task force comprised both of civilian diplomats and a small protective force is dispatched to restore peace, having been issued authority superseding that of the Callistan government. The 40th Unification Day will be one of success for humanity... The ship Imminent Dawn sets off for its one-month journey towards Jupiter, and its moon; Callisto. Its orders: dock at the capital; contact Governor Arielle Avyndor, assess the situation, and resolve it as necessary, with peaceful means preferred. The crew - a diverse lot, homeworlders, colonists, officers trained on Luna's vaunted Hubble Naval Academy, test pilots and veteran pilots both - will find their abilities and beliefs tested...

"A war's end is only the beginning. Those who survived have to carry on the will of the fallen, and remember their sacrifice. Never forget who gave us our future..." - Gaius Solfuse the Second, King of Lohengrin. Arkus was a small continent with a lengthy yet bloody history, all thanks to a rampaging behemoth called Requiem. It was born of out of an intense desire to master certain magic, and grew out of the control of the creators. The destruction is caused was enough to completely sink a certain kingdom, and that forced the other nations to rise up and finally face the beast. They were lead by the king of Lohengrin, Gaius the first, and the church had granted them weaponry known as Heroic Regalia to face Requiem. However, before the heroic king could defeat the behemoth, he was struck down by his own allies at the final moment. This gave Requiem more of an opportunity to continue it's chaos until the rest of the allied nations eventually brought it down, though the cost to do so was too great. Almost a millennium later, the continent is still feeling the aftereffects of the beast's influence. But it's not all doom and gloom, some people see the Requiem War as a victory despite the immense losses. Isolde in particular holds a special festival once a year known as the Festival of Liberation, on the day of the end of the war. The kingdom of flowers had decorated the castle town in flora, and there were various stands about. Food, games, and even small performances here and there. It was a day of happiness, for most anyway. For a certain red haired woman in white, it was a stressful day. A young woman named Eve stood at the entrance to the castle town, she looked over a small device in her hand with a sigh. "...Luce should be here by now, I hope they didn't get attacked or anything." The merc lifted her head to the road before her, there were a few hills but she mostly had a clear view of the path before her. I just hope the escort won't be too hard to convince...gotta start thinking of a proper approach. ----------------- Speaking of the road in view, a carriage was a few miles out on the road. It had a coachman in front of it in a green hat and matching suit, and the passengers were two women. A certain princess of the nation of Phantasma in fact, Lorelei Prisma. "...well, we're close to our destination, Alouette." The princess turned her contrasting eyes toward her friend. "Tell me, you were originally from Isolde. Is there anything you can tell me about the nation? I rarely visit, and even when I do it's quite brief. So I'd love to take advantage of the festival while I'm away from my uncle's prying eyes." The carriage continued on as she struck up a conversation, unaware of a travelling duo on the road ahead of them...