Grave times

[Octiovus]

The Baron glanced around Cove as the watchmen packed things into carts and onto mules and grabbed what meager possessions they had left.

“How did it come to this, Shadwell?”

“Well, sir, as you can see on this diagram, there was the plague. Then the economic collapse after all the workers died… And then…”

“Give me that, you hideous fool.”

He examined the diagram that Shadwell had presented, it was indeed grim reading. He cursed darkly as he slowly mounted his steed. If only the Yewlanders had not disrupted the quarantine of the plague victims this string of disasters would not have happened. The escaped plague victims infected the mine workers and led to the economic crash. Ontop of that a peace with Vesper had to be called after the commander’s death, another thing Octiovus could not abide. Peace with Vesper… What next! He snorted and pulled the reigns of the horse.

What now… He thought…

[Gregor Eason]

Gregor Eason, the infamously "dead" Commander of Cove, sipped on his cool refreshing drink, whilst sunning himself flamboyantly on one of the decadent isolated islands of Nu'jelm. Life was good, since departing from Cove.
Eason had avoided certain death by hanging, and had otherwise been forgotten by the authorities of Yew, whom wished him brought to Justice for his crimes in aiding the peasant rebellion in the North some months ago.

Eason playfully pinched the soft, delicate skin of his lover beside him; a dark haired, brooding woman, with emerald green eyes that would pierce the character of most men. All too passionate, had the Commander's retirement been. However, a good officer always keeps word of those he has left behind.. And an unmarked letter arrived.

"Cove in dire state."

Eason scratched his chin, and stared over to Maria. He pondered deeply.