All things must end...

[Shytalon]

 Exerpt from the notes of Rubinsky Ke'ordan, Second for Kheraptis Clan:

It seems that his lordship, Kheraptis has caught cold, and could not attend. It is now my duty to record all the happenings of the final meeting of the elite of Mossflower's warlords...

Looking about the table, one could cut the tension in the air with a knife. No one speaks, no one moves. All paws are on weapons. To add to the atmosphere is the relative dinginess of the meeting place. Although run-down, the old Delor ruins made a fitting place to end this era of war. The giant table where Lord Delor would meet with his advisors now holding beasts from every army that holds a place of power in the land. The most powerful warlords all assembled in one place. Quite a sight, really, for a fox as young as I. As the most finely dressed wildcat rises, I immediately recognize it as Emporer Fenix himself. The tension increases as a few blades are pulled a bit from their scabbards, especially that of Former-Emporer Raine.

"Everybeast, listen," he begins, "I've been allies with many of you, enemies with most, and friends with a few. Like all things, this must come to an end," pausing, he sets his crown down, running a paw back over his head, "Look about us. The land is empty. We have taken everything we could have, here. All that's left is a wasteland that once held beauty and riches, all of which adorns us, now."

A few murmers of dissent come throughout the room, it seems not everyone agrees with him, "But the northlands..." a voice begins.

"They're as barren as everything, anyway," Fenix dismisses this with a wave of his paw, "Look, there is but one thing to do, now. We need to move on. I realize that some of your troops will stay behind. Maybe what we started here will continue on after we go, but for us, it is over." He sits, with that, letting the arguments begin around him.

"It's not over!"
"We'll never leave!"
"I've worked hard for what I have, no one will take it from me."

A few delegates from the opposite end of the table stand, those that have been against Fenix for a long time: Lord Orcrist, from The Stonewall Brigade, and Raine, from The Sovereign Guard. The marten and cat have a defiant gleam in their eyes as they finish discussing the finer points of their argument.

"Emporer Fenix," spits the marten, the disdain in his voice palpable, "we have decided to agree with you. We second the move and suggest that all hordes begin production on a fleet to transport their troops." Astounded, the hall falls silent again, a dripping echoing throughout the hall, as a slight rain begins.

I slip quickly outside, a few figures catching the my eyes. I slink over, recognizing the five figures in the dark. Moving foward, I offer a bow to them, "Ah, the Emporers of old. And Empress, of course," I raise to see their eyes on me. All of the greatest of the past. Stormclaw the Noble, Shael the Benevolent, Spigot the Conquerer, Haruvar the Great, and Ragefur the Deciever.

"So," begins Spigot, "what was decided?"

I offer a small smile, handing a large coin to him, "You were right. They're leaving for good."

He accepts it, turning to leave and motioning for the others to follow. His needs fulfilled.

I notice a sixth figure and motion her over, "Lady Klamath, I never expected to see you back," I call to the vixen.

She smiles, "You didn't," as she turns to join the others, the sun reflecting off her few ornaments, I hear a muttering from that direction, "So mote it be."

With a sigh, I sit back, remembering how horrible these last few days were: The frantic rush for power, the backstabbing, the rising of new alliances, breaking of old ones. Seems everyone knew that this would come. Well, word travels fast. Soon, as the last few hours tick by until the exodus, the fighting will grow more frantic as warlords try to get more power and supplies for the long trip to, who knows where. I can only hope that since I've decided to stay behind, there will be enough troops to allow me to get a piece of the pie before it's all gone.

The doors crash open next to me, then, as the delegates file out, some with smiles, others with scowls. I catch the eye of Lord of the Mtenskovites as he is heading out. Smoothly, he diverts his path and walks up to me, a quizzical look on his face, "Yiss?" he asks.

I smile, "So, how did the 'proclamation' go over."

He turns from me, heading towards his entourage, "We go. Now."

I watch the last of them leave, staying behind for a bit before getting up, myself, "So mote it be, eh? I guess it really is over."

And so an age ends.

Le Fin.


~Shy, Myuh!

PS. Excuse the typos. Like usual, I was tired when I wrote this.

[The Lady Shael]

 It was great, Shy! I was going to say anyways that if someone was going to write something about the end that it should be Retto, Stormy, Tsar, or you, since you're all terrific writers.

[Shytalon]

 Thanks! I thought I'd get a bit of writing practice in, and this seemed like a good opportunity.

~Shy, Myuh!

PS. Mitya could have done better.

[Tsarmina]

*applauds* Quite beautiful, dear. ^.^

Tsar's beign overrated. -.-

[Menatus]

 Pish, I've read your stories, and they're great!

On that note, excellent story, Shy. Except I wasn't mentioned...as usual =D But that's okay. Wait...didn't Spigot get poisoned? Meh, oh well.

[Stormclaw]

 Not poisoned. He died of natural causes.

...Maybe young Ke'ordan is hallucinating, and seeing nobles who couldn't possibly be there...

[Shytalon]

 Nah... being symbolic. They are ghosts of the past. Literally and figuratively... see?

~Shy, Myuh!