Agakaan

So we come now to the nation of Agakaan, a federation of merchant cities bound together by the threat of the Farathic Empire. It would be nice to be able to call it a 'Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy', but that would just being melodramatic. And possibly making a commentary on the Merchants, which is usually unhealthy.

The news of the Alliance between the Ebon Hills and the Veii was not met without some suspicion, and more than a few merchants took some small interest in the proceedings.

It was business as usual, then.

Goblins at the Ebon Hills!

It was scant but a few weeks after the departure of the Shadow Emissaries when a second caravan arrived, this one with a carriage of fine oak and surrounded by a small private guard comprised of goblins. Their armament and uniform gave away their allegiance immediately - they were the private guard of one of the merchant princes of Agakaan.

Not that it was hard to tell - after all, the famed 'Firearms' of Agakaan were only ever fielded in groups of any size by the Merchant Princes themselves.

Marco Polo and Armalen

*Ker-Crack!*

Where the bandits' leader once stood, there was now only a smouldering pile of ash. The others stared.

"Off with you, or you'll be next!"

The bandits appeared confused for a moment, then fled. Book sighed, and pressed the hand-firearm back into his coat. Wouldn't bandits ever learn? He shook his head, and slapped his mule on the backside to get it moving again.

"Stupid creature." he muttered, in his native goblin, and shivered from the cold. Armalen was just up ahead, and he'd finally made it onto the main road.

He braced himself for the infamous undead of the ranged, and headed up to the ominous gates of Armalen itself.

Godsdamned Dragons.
In one of the settlements near the Realm of the Gods

"Bah, never going to find Zah'Kohl." grumbled Cartwheel, downing another mug of ale. It was rare enough to see Dragorans passing through on their way to the Capital - rarer still so close to the Ritual of the Stars, when everyone who wanted to head to the Capital was already long gone. Stupid border guards.

So much for that big idea. Wonderful metalwork was easy to find - half a dozen of the biggest countries in the world touted their own wares as the 'best in the world'. Starmetal, not so much. And the rite would be the only good time to buy, when there was a good supply before everyone started using it all up.

He sighed, and headed back out of the tavern, looking for the marketplace. Maybe someone could point him in the right direction there.