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Today's World Census Report
The Largest Gambling Industry in Mythos
The World Census tailed known underworld figures in order to determine which nations have the largest gambling industries.
As a region, Mythos is ranked 9,581st in the world for Largest Gambling Industry.
|1.||The Borderlands of Ingradreyar||Capitalist Paradise Decent Hardworking Self-Starters||“The sea-wolf rules the waters; make way, for it is ours”|
|2.||The Confederacy of Sidioch||Father Knows Best State Suspiciously Liberal Dictatorship||“For our Confederacy, and no others”|
|3.||The Kingdom of Lozen||Father Knows Best State Suspiciously Liberal Dictatorship||“Through Gold our Kingdom will prevail”|
|4.||The Republic of Tartezos||New York Times Democracy New York Crimes So-Called Democracy||“We Will Endure”|
|5.||The Republic of Republic of Kimeria||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy Communists||“By The People For The People”|
|6.||The Kingdom of Cypronis||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy Communists||“Peace and Justice”|
|7.||The Republic of Mikretos||Democratic Socialists Hell||“MIKRETOIC MIKRETOS”|
|8.||The Kingdom of Neurys||Left-wing Utopia Drugged-Out Hippies||“Homeland and liberty”|
|9.||The Republic of Calmut||Iron Fist Consumerists Champions of Commerce||“there's always time for business”|
|10.||The Colony of The Arrival||Left-wing Utopia Drugged-Out Hippies||“This is only the beginning and yet, it is also the end”|
- : Regional Founder Mythos realms ceased to exist.
- : Aviskonia ceased to exist.
- : Thesos islands ceased to exist.
- : Sircensia ceased to exist.
- : Ittrea ceased to exist.
- : Cercina ceased to exist.
- : Cirai ceased to exist.
- : Aendryyd ceased to exist.
- : Vitaeroma ceased to exist.
- : Zendavia ceased to exist.
Mythos Regional Message Board
As the battle ensued upon both flanks, the Thesian portion of the combined allied fleet had successfully broken through the rear centre line of the Kinthian defense. From here the Thesian task force split into two potions, both turning to surround both the left and right reward flanks and encompassing significant portions of the Kinthian battle line. Cirene and her flagship accompanied the right flank, to lead the charge in support of their allied Nymerian forces.
“There, forty five degrees starboard”, Cirene commanded to her lieutenant Hippomenes, lifting her sword high and pointing towards a Nymerian galley entrapped by several Kinthos vessels. With the lieutenants beckoning, “four beats portside”, the oars plunged once again to the seas and with each beating of the drum turned the ship into position jolting the crew sideways as it shifted. With her eyes upon the enemy vessel Cirene gave the order to advance. “Ramming speed”, she bellowed across the deck. In the sudden increase in pace the whole ship creaked and twisted as it accelerated towards the enemy. With each beating of the drums, the motion of each rowing her ambition grew. Although a Kinthos ship had targeted her vessel and approached with daunting speed, it became shattered by a Thesian ship colliding with it to nearly split the enemy vessel in half. Granting the crew and Cirene a sense of divine confidence, as if they were protected by the gods. Yet she remained focused upon her target, visualising the coming onslaught whilst all around resonated the agonising cries of men. “This is my time, this is where I prove to them...”, she thought to herself with hunger in each breath.
Clenching her fists upon her blade, and grasping the bow of her ship, “Oars in she commanded”, just moments away from collision as the vessel charged onwards. In moments the ship struck the kinthian vessel tearing rabidly against its hull and splitting its ores. Abruptly as the tension escalated the ship came to a crashing halt, lunging its crew forwards. “This is it”, she thought with dedication. With clenched teeth, she gave the order to board and with a rallying cry she and her men launched upon the deck of the Kinthian vessel with ferocity.
With a single swing of her blade she logged it into the shoulder of a bewildered Kinthian. Dazed by the Thesian attack he stared into her eyes as his life departed from his body. Yet without remorse nor hesitation Cirene drew the sword from his body. Then attacked from her left she blocked the thrust of his blade and with her shield stuck his neck sending the marine to the floor. For she and her men fought with ever intensifying ferocity. Filling herself with a deep sense of achievement, an inner pride of sorts that drove her to ends thought incapable to accomplish. As she continued to push forth across the deck, she smiled, she yelled and cried and plunged her sword into her enemies, dodging their attackers with speed. Wielding both sword and shield in a dance of fury. Though as she forced onwards across the deck to meet the Nymerians, in her self confidence and belief she became struck from behind dealing a severe blow to the back of her head. Sending her in a daze to the blood soaked deck. Laying there helplessly upon the floor and seemingly isolated from her crew. She wielded her sword clumsily in self defence.
Slowly with each strike of the enemy her arms grew tired and her hope bled from her heart. “It cannot be like this, I won't let it be like this”, she thought to herself. Then in her final moments she cried out to her enemy, “This is only the beginning”. Gathering what was left of her strength and in her resolution she directed her enemies blade towards the ground. It sliced against her cheek bone as she taught herself upwards. Turning sideways around her attacker and striking the back of his legs splitting his tendons. Bringing him upon his knees. Then, as if though by divine providence from above reigned the Thesian blade of her Lieutenant Commander Hippomenes into her enemies breast. With this move she lifted her blade and struck the Kinthians neck partially off. Then in her newfound valientry, she watched as her men charged forth and so charged with her final reaches of strength alongside them.
For one by one, the Thesian and Nymerian marines eliminated what remained of the Kinthian soldiers. Some tried to jump ship, others surrendered, some fought on until their dying breath. But in the end they were all cut down in brute force. Cirene thrusted her blade into a pleading enemy and simply stood there with her hand upon the hilt as she watched the last of her enemies perish. Cirene stood in silence with a mixed feeling of utter despair, yet a slight sense of crazed pleasure as she watched the massacre conclude.
The Kinthians had been routed and both Nymerian and Thesian marines celebrated as the battle waged upon the seas around them. Letting go of her despair, Cirene became rife with the joy of victory as her soldiers had amongst her. However, the battle was not yet over. For still a great many men need lose their lives.
The Completion of the Benlarshashalye Canal
The morning sun breaches the horizon and the sunlight kisses the stone and brick buildings, the workers finish the last shift of the kingdom's greatest project: the Benlarshashalye Canal. The cities of Benushkay, Nughain Anye, and the capital of Tejdarye have been on the Tejdarye lake since their establishment, yet there has been a great desire for some way to further trade between the lake and the greater ocean, as it is hard for cities outside the lake to the south, east, and south east to get over the mountains for trade. Realizing this, King Ardashir az Tejdarye I called for several ideas to make trade better, and it was decided that a canal would be dug and constructed. That was 30 years ago, and now, King Ardashir az Tejdarye II exits his local palace at Benlarshashalye, he enters his palanquin, being led in a procession to the canal, with the pin holding the water dam in place calling to him. He is handed a ceremonial hammer, which he then swings at the pin, taking it out, having the water rush into the canal and full it, and the canal holds. Cheers go up and down the entirety of the canal, which are grown in volume as numerous party and pleasure ships enter the canal, allowing popular and high societal holiday on board in celebration.
The Quelling of the Iapiths - Part I
The Iapiths! Oh, what name sounded so foul in the ears of the people of Sidioch! The Iapiths were a tribal people of Hellenic descent, and their territories consisted of the lands throughout the northern coast of the Bay of Nyx. While the Italics within the Confederacy - the Vulci and the Heraii - may have been considered ‘tribes’, they had cities, civilization, and a polished culture to their names. The Iapiths were little more than reclusive barbarians with an affinity for war and savage decor. Their cities were the forests, their strongholds were the mountains, their livestock were the wild deer and Ibex that roamed the region. And unlike their fellow Itreans, the Iapiths scorned the gods of Sidioch, preferring to worship gods of their own making, gods they could see and live amongst. While the savage men of the northern reaches of the Hellenic world would’ve been a menace to their southern neighbors, they were fortunately divided. Small clans warred against one another, and the Iapiths remained divided. Or so the world thought. For while they carried on with life as they had for ages, a great evil had returned to the world. Opos the Tyrant, he was called, and from the Out-Isles to the tribal lands he had traveled. Alas, he was forgotten by civilized men, but the Iapiths, who revered gods they could see, were awed by the vengeful daemon that was the Tyrant. And so, slowly, the clans came under his leadership. And the civilized world turned a blind eye.
The air was thick with smoke and blood. Amasi and its surrounding lands burned. Across the rocky hills and rolling plains, wild riders bearing fire and spear slaughtered and torched all. The smoke clouds were visible for miles. And Iason was helpless as he watched the chaos from the walls of fort Eturia. He was the Zilath of the region, and he could not help his people. He’d reassured himself countless times that dying with them would do nothing but prevent him from saving them later. But sealed up behind Eturia’s stout walls, he questioned whether or not he was in the right. He and those fortunate enough had reached safety behind the fort’s formidable ramparts. Or so they’d thought. While the Iapiths were occupied with what plunder there was to be found in the countryside, it wasn’t safe to leave, and the Confederacy’s forces in that region were too scattered at the moment to make an effective counterattack. The Iapiths would come to Eturia soon enough. And then all inside would die if help didn’t arrive. No one had been expecting an Iapith invasion; why should they have? The Iapiths were divided, always warring amongst themselves, and lacked the resources to stage an assault on Sidioch. Well, that was apparently a common misconception. For whatever reason, the clans had united under a single ruler, and now a great horde ravaged Itrea. Three days ago the wild men had stormed through Amasi’s gates and taken the city by surprise. Three days ago Iason had sent a rider. And two days ago the rider’s head had been flung back over the walls of the fort, bloody and mutilated, eyes gouged out, flesh eaten by crows. Iason would’ve made the journey south personally if those around him didn’t ardently refuse the idea. And he was growing old in any case. He’d be easy prey for the craven invaders. As much as he hated sending young men to their deaths, he felt it was a must. They had to try.
“Gotarzes!” He called, summoning his lieutenant.
“Yes, my lord?” Replied the officer, appearing in the doorway of the Zilath’s private quarters.
“Send the swiftest rider you have to Discae. If the rest of Itrea does not know if this brazen act of war soon, we’re doomed to a bloody end at the hands of these vile barbarians.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Iason sat back on a reclining couch and closed his eyes. He heard the lieutenant leave the room and walk down the hall, the clinking of armor echoing down the corridor. “And Gotarzes!” Iason called out. “Yes, my lord?”
“Pray for the poor lad. He’ll need all the divine favor he can get.”
“Naturally, my lord.”
Coming out of the building, Gotarzes saw that it was raining. How he had not heard it in the Zilath’s chamber, he did not know. But perhaps, he thought, it was a sign from the gods of Sidioch, an omen of sorts. “It is as if the heavens are weeping for the spilled blood of Amasi,” he remarked. As he walked down the stairway to the fort’s keep, he looked about the courtyard. There he saw soldiers and civilians alike, all huddling around fires and bearing the same dismayed expression. “People,” he cried, getting their attentions. “I need a volunteer!”
That line certainly sparked worry in the fort. Gotarzes heard hushed murmurs coming up from the people gathered, and frowned. “A swift rider,” he continued, “to bear a message to Discae! I know none of you wish to go! So I will provide an incentive! Whoever delivers this message, a large reward of Drachms awaits him, should he return! So, who shall do their country a service!”
No one stepped forward. No one raised their hand. No one called out ‘I will’. And so, no one would come to the aid of the Zilath, and Amasi’s people would die by the hands of the Iapiths, or be brought back to their lands in shackles. Gotarzes heaved a disappointed sigh, frowned at those before him, and was about to return to Iason with grave news when, out of the blue, a voice broke the silence. “I’ll do it,” it said, and it was then that Gotarzes realized the voice was not that of a man’s, but of a woman’s. Spinning around in surprise, Gotarzes eyes went wide. The volunteer who’d presented herself was a slender, beautiful lass with a sheepskin mantle draped about her shoulders. And what was more, it was Iason’s own daughter.
“Vespaia?!” Said Gotarzes, astounded. It was something of a public secret that the Zilath’s daughter was of a different breed than most women of the country. She had a fiery spirit, and a sojourner’s heart. And to many, she was regarded as a cut above the rest. Every year come the turning of winter to spring, an annual flock of nobles, mostly local ones from Amasi, would come to the city to seek her hand. However, Iason did not seek any form of gift in return for Vespaia’s hand, and allowed her the freedom of personally bestowing her affections on whoever she wished. So, lo and behold, she went unmarried. While Gotarzes knew her to frequently roam the outdoors for days on end with nothing but horse and bow, attempting to take the hidden trail across Sidioch’s border to Dsicae was an unexpected move. “Are you sure?”
Vespaia nodded amid the whispers and murmurs from the crowd, and Gotarzes shook his head with a sad expression. “Very well… I shall inform the Zilath of your decision. He likely won’t allow it though.”
“He has no other choice but to allow it.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Gotarzes remarked, staring off over the horizon as rain poured down his face. The skies were darkening. Another ill omen, it seemed. While the lieutenant had never been too superstitious, he was now starting to put a little more faith in otherwise ordinary events. With a final glance back at Vespaia and the crowd gathered around her, Gotarzes ascended the stairs to the fort’s keep to deliver the news to Iason. It was only a few minutes later that Iason himself emerged from the indoors out into the pouring rain. He scanned those gathered in the courtyard before his gaze finally settled on the form of his daughter. Vespaia looked back towards the keep and saw Iason looking at her with a stern expression. Iason stared, uncaring of the rain that soaked his fine garments of fur and velvet, then went back inside. Vespaia knew he would be shaken, and went to speak with him.
“Vespaia… why?” Iason asked, slumped over a table. “Of all the people to volunteer, why did the gods will it to be you?”
“The gods work in mysterious ways. I’m no oracle; you know this well enough. I cannot speak for them.”
“Oh, Vespaia. You must understand that you may not live to come back.”
“I understand that perfectly well.”
“You are the last hope for our bloodline, don’t you see that? I’m growing old, too old to sire another child. The only way we could’ve preserved our house was through children of your own. But alas, you are still unmarried and now wish to embark on a dangerous journey from which you may never return. Hearing all this, you still wish to go?”
Vespaia nodded her head once, her expression unwavering. She’d made up her mind and wouldn’t be deterred. Iason looked up at her, sighed, then slumped over the table once more.
“I cannot sway your opinion. So be it then. Take a horse of your picking and ride out tomorrow night.”
The next night…
Vespaia strapped on her leather bracers and stepped out into the cool night air. A strong breeze blew across her face, whipping a lock of her hair across her forehead. The smoke from the campfires around the courtyard drifted low throughout the fort. A soldier offered to help the Zilath’s daughter into the saddle of the horse she’d selected, an offer which she politely declined. The soldier nodded, and trudged off towards the fort’s gate, which he opened just enough for her to ride out. And so she did.
Rounding the top of a rocky hill at a canter, Vespaia slowed her horse. Ahead of her lay the entrance to the hidden path which would take her just beyond the borders of the Confederacy. While the smoke from the burning villages lay ever looming on the horizon, she had yet to see any Iapiths. And as she carefully made her way through the pass, six horsemen clad in goat hides and crude armor watched her on the rocky bluffs above. They were Iapiths, and Vespaia looked like easy prey. She was only walking her horse, and appeared to be focused solely on the road before her. One of the barbarians looked to his comrade with a wicked smile on his scarred visage. They’d arrived in northern Sidioch sometime after the pillaging, and had been denied the chance to score themselves a fresh woman. The barbarians kicked his horse onward down the bluff, and his companions on both rocky slopes did the same. Hearing the tumble of stones, Vespaia glanced up at the bluffs and, to her horror, saw six savage-looking riders armed to the teeth slowly descending on her. Vespaia was not one to sit idly and wait for her fate though. She firmly kicked her horse, and took off in a race just as the Iapiths reached the bottom.
The six riders saw this, and their leader licked his lips. They were Iapiths, hardy men of the world’s edge, and enjoyed the hunt. Vespaia was no longer a mere target in their eyes. She was prey. The lead rider spurred his horse off to a sprint and raised his spear in the air, shouting something in the Iapith dialect. What he shouted, Vespaia didn’t care. Probably something vulgar, no doubt. In that moment, she knew only one thing for certain. If the Iapiths caught her, her fate was sealed.
The Call for Improvement of the Kingdom
King Ardashir az Tejdarye II sits in his palace, drawing up a plan for what must be done to improve the kingdom. He determines that three people from each city must be brought in to voice their concerns. One would be from the poor class, one from the middle, and one from the rich. This would allow concerns to have a much wider reach and effect. As well, he calls for there to be a nationwide census to see what is wished to be improved.
As fast as possible, the representatives and the census are done and the results returned. The main consensus is startling. Many people are not well aware of the goings on of the nation, with some still believing that King Ardashir az Tejdarye I reigned. Especially from people needing to go through the mountains and the people needing to get from the sea to the inner territories. The common concerns of most everyone was this level of separation, which was startling, and all other problems posed were derivatives of this isolation. In response, the King King Ardashir az Tejdarye II has called for a road network to be made to better connect the cities, with the roads made specifically to last as long as possible and be as easy to transport or ride on as possible. The first road will be made from Nughain Anye to Taksinaz with the route going through Yasiz, Ayajim, and Asinur Ahnu Cheyapaze. The success of this first road will be judged, and then should the road be successful, more will be built in this fashion.
The Nine Islands of Mawika | Atowi | Mid Sunset
Mahina and Ta'ia listened to the rhythmic tapping of Aha's stick and poke.The chieftess always stayed for the final ceremony in becoming a healer. The tattooing of the symbol. The twisting root like lines across his wrist, the uncolored lines turning black where the colored lines are suddenly empty. After this, the young man will officially be a healer from Atowi. He'll undoubtedly move to another island, most healers did. Aha was working swiftly, trying to finish before dark.
"Mahina?" A girl had asked, from behind Mahina and Aha.
"What is it, Le?" The older woman had asked. Le looked a bit uneasy, which was common for her.
"There are ships in the distance, but they don't look right." Le was playing with part of her skirt as she stared at the ground. Mahina got up. She was genuinely perplexed. Ships that don't look right? The islands have never fought each other. And they haven't come across people of other lands since Mahina's grandfather was a small child. "Alright, show me." She said.
With a muttered apology to Ta'ia, who seemed to not really mind, Mahina let Le guide her to where the ships were. Now that she was out of the hut, she could see all the colors that temporarily stained the sky. Le took them to the beach of the island, near the fisherman's huts.
There, in the distance, was in fact ships. Mahina squinted her eyes. They didn't look Mawikan. She could see that a couple of people were also looking at the boats from the front of their homes. The newcomers would be welcomed with open arms-As long as they had items worth trade-In Atowi but other islands may be more prickly toward them at first. She crossed her arms, anticipating their arrival.
Cypronis Thesos islands
As the battle went on, the formations loosened up more and more. The enemy's ships had been split into two groups. Not long after the thesian fleet broke through the enemy line, a couple of ships escaped from the right flank. One of Kinthos allies had surrendered and fled. Now with less enemies on the right side, the nymarian fleet scored victory after victory with the help of the Thesians that supported them from the core of the formation. But when they looked to the left flank, where the fleet from calmut faced the rest of the kinthians, they knew they had to hurry. Calmut was slowly losing ground against the Kinthians that outnumbered them. Cirene had already sent some ships to aid them but it wasn't enough.
Meanwhile, Leto was in the process of capturing an enemy ship, while he sliced through the ranks of the enemy soldiers, both his mind and body were running at peak performance. Like a storm he swept away anything crossing his path, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Every move executed with perfect precision, not a single second wasted. He moved faster then any human should be able to. A tornado of brass and crimson red, mowing down the enemy combatants. The ship got captured and the last foe hit the floor dead.
The fight on the right flank carried on for a couple more minutes, but the few remaining kinthian ships surrendered eventually. Leto and the rest of the fleet quickly made their way over to the former left flank where the fleet from Calmut was desperatly fighting against Kinthos.
The flotilla had made landfall just as dusk set in. Rather than risk landing in poor light, the captains of each vessel decided to anchor themselves a mile or so offshore and communicated to each other to stay nearby to each other. The red sky and calm seas were good omens. However, as a precaution, the nightly watch would be doubled and changed every two hours to allow the men some sleep as well as (hopefully) guard against any uninvited incursion by any of the locals. Fires had been observed in the distance so the Tartezossians knew people inhabited these islands but they knew nothing of their intentions.
Dawn broke and on the Diere Alyssa the men were already awake, fed and warming themselves up to take to their oars. The Tartezossian commander of this flotilla, Timaeus, had spent the last hour polishing his armour and weapons - more to create a good impression but also just in case things turned rough.
The Alyssa cut through the water towards what looked like the larger island. As the Alyssa approached the shore, her bronze prow ram was removed and the rowers began coasting towards a beautiful sandy beach. It was approaching high tide so they didn't want to have to dig the Alyssa out to unbeach themselves if they were met with an unfavourable reception.
The Alyssa beached perfectly and a number of the sailors climbed down with ropes and mallets to hold the Alyssa in position.
The other three Dieres kept a distance offshore. A polished silver mirror would be used to signal for help if any was needed...
Completion of the First Ardashir Road
Morning breaks over Taksinaz, the sunlight kissing the rocky cliff faces nearby and seeping into the city, yet the light now touches something new, which is the ending stones of the Ardashir Road, which stretches all the way from Nughain Anye to Taksinaz. The road holds strong and sturdy, being able to carry anything upon it across the kingdom. In response, a new road has been commissioned by King Ardashir az Tejdarye II from Darjaya Sezunya Sazmim to Miyed Zaa, then on to Az Singa and Ayajim, then ending in Dayar Ter Yez Singa. As well, this road shall be built in accordance to a new tax system, wherein citizens pay for their taxes in service rather than in gold, allowing the road to be built essentially for the cost of no money.
Out of the Shadows PT.1
The room, dark and massive. No matter which direction you ran it seems you can never touch the wall. The room was filled with a solemn silence untill all of a sudden a slow and gentle slithering begins and then a sharp hiss. Then 2, then 4 then 16. From every direction all you can hear is a hiss.
"SNAKES, SNAKES, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE" shrieks iron soul Carolos as he almost instantly bolts upright in his bed awakening from his nightmare. From his days as a soldier in the Mikretoic army he's had an intense fear of snakes and has always done everything in his power to avoid them, an uneasy task in the sandy plains of Mikretos where snakes loom under and over every single ridge of sand. But that didnt matter now, it was early in the morning and he needed to get to the Katoiku, the residence of the Monvailas, the king of Mikretos. Afterall he was his personal doctor, what would the king do without him? He hopped on his soldier's chariot, he had earned it for his participation as a chariot rider in the 3rd Egyptian Insurrection. It was marked with scrapes and scratches from it's military history and although most other mikretoic's and especially those above Stone Soul would've opted to get it repaired or simply purchase a new chariot, Carolos liked to keep the marks for posterity and as a trophy.
"Here girl, here." he remarked, talking to the horse of the chariot. "How are you Anatola", he says while feeding her a banana, a treat usually reserved for when Anatola was doing well Carolos just couldnt resist giving it to her regularly and giving her a mighty hug. "Alright girl" he says lovingly whilst boarding the chariot. He then takes rein of the chariots and commands Anatola to lead him to Katoiku. When they arrive, Carolos goes through the usual motions, greeting the servants, taking off his helmet etc etc. However whilst doing the checkup on the prince, Admentus.
Whilst rubbing fish blood on the prince's foot, he appears to be in a large amount of distress, strange seeing as hes never shown uncomfort during the previous routine checkups so Carolos asks what's bothering him. "The oracle" he said, "I just remembered that shortly before you came she spoke of a great monster coming from the sands. A large beast which wuld destroy Mikretos and deal great damage to me." he said with clear undertones of distress and worry. "The oracle has clearly been blinded" scoffs Carolos "A monster hasnt been sent in centuries, why would the gods send one now when humanity has commited no great evil. If you ask me, your father should just replace her." Admentus still shows great shock stating "I've had nightmares however of being swallowed whole by the beast, I havent however been able to gain a good look at it". "Nonsense" rebutts Carolos "Nightmares mean nothing, i've dreamed of being trapped in rooms with bucketfuls of snakes and yet here I am completely unsnaked", "I still err on the side of caution" said Admentus before Carolos finished his checkup and moving to check the king.
The Beginner's War Pt. 2
Mesha, along with the rest of the Cypronian fleet regained their positions as they finished capturing two additional vessels. Now bringing their total fleet power to seven warships. Tumir looked around at the flagship as he attended to his leg, which now had significantly improved over the past few hours. He leaned on the mast of the vessel, trying to caudle his body to at least allow him to stand. He made sure to take note of the damage that had befallen the ship, and to make sure that she was still able to maneuver. Mesha walked by after ordering the crew about to return to positions and begin to sail the ship to help with relief efforts on their allies. Of course, a fleet of only seven warships wouldn't do much, but they would do their most damn to cause as much chaos and mayhem to the enemy. As she walked down the length of the deck she passed Tumir to check up on him.
"Tumir, how are you holding up?", she asked as she squatted down to check on his leg.
"Well, it's definitely not the best feeling", he chuckled in response. "Though what is the status of the fleet?", he asked with a frown forming on his face.
"Well... surprisingly fine, we did take damage to this hunk.", she taps her foot on the deck.
"You know... She needs a name", he patted the base of the mast.
Mesha looked at Tumir, and took a few moments to collect her thoughts. "Perhaps after the battle", she responded before taking the helm and ordering the men to prepare to relieve their allies.