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The Colony of Torrith:
This thread, and those which follow it[Distant Lands] take place five years ahead of the 'standard' Anirian Timeline. That means that if any character in these threads 'returns' to Vel Anir, they will be somewhat out of 'sync' with the rest of the characters. This is because these threads are intended to take place far away from the main 'hub' of Anirian RP. Our characters will not be in touch with the homeland, bar perhaps letters received months after they are sent. This is a core concept to these threads, and if the concept doesn't interest you or you don't intend to follow it; Please do not partake.
Though I had originally thought to create a 'timeline' of events, I have decided this isn't much in the spirit of cooperative roleplay. Instead I will simply post a small indicator of the 'big' things that happened during the years. This will allow us all to flesh out and create an interesting and cooperative story.
The Years;
Year One; Five Ships of the Line Depart Vel Anir with 3,987 Souls. Most of the Year is spent traveling. Arrive on the eastern most side of Malakath as Winter falls. Struggle for the rest of winter to find a landing point. Ships eventually moor in a deep cove, naming it 'Torrith' after the Admiral's father.
Year Two; The Anirians Winter aboard their ships. When Spring lands, the colonists begin clear cutting of land. Anirians encounter wild beasts, monsters, and all sorts of creatures. Though beaten back somewhat, the Colony manages to establish itself on an island in the cove.
Year Three; The dangers of Malakath prove to be more than simply beasts. Disease ravages the colony, and nearly half of Torrith dies of a mysterious illness. Through struggling, the Colony eventually makes it through. Most of year four is a simple struggle for survival.
Year Four; Torrith has managed to stabilize itself. The plague is gone, and the population has stabilized. Torrith has been built into a proper village and is considered relatively secure. By Order of the Marshall General, the Anirians begin to send out scouting parties deeper into Malakath's lands. Finally, rumors begin to spread around the land of monsters of strange newcomers in the east.
Year Five; See; This thread.
Malakath - Torrith

Five years.
It seemed an impossibly long amount of time now, but with everything that had happened in-between Lothar would have argued that only a tenth as much had passed. It seemed that every day of the last five years had been a fight for survival. There hadn't been many days off, and even fewer where he hadn't worried about anything.
They had all come to quickly learn that was the nature of life in this place.
Danger lurked, quite literally, around nearly every corner. Monsters the size of Dragons roamed the jungle, trees would eat you themselves if given a chance, and every insect seemed to have some sort of venom. Nearly everything and anything could kill you in these lands, and plenty had died before they'd learned the caution of that fact.
Five years on though, and things were starting to look up. Torrith, what Admiral Nicomo had named their little town, was well defended enough. If you had a handful of Dreadlords to defend the bridges and the wall, but even without them, precautions had been created the previous year, and now in the spring of their Fifth year on Malakath; they were finally preparing to go a little further.
Lothar had volunteered for last years scouting missions too, mostly just because he'd been desperate for a change of scenery. Most everything he had seen of Malakath so far did not extend beyond the cove Torrith lay in, the Admiral always having insisted before that he stay. Lothar's magic having become a particularly useful skill, given the fact that he was able to 'recycle' his fallen peers. Taking their eyes when a monster, or simple disease, brought them to the grave.
This time though, this time it would be different.
Twelve of them would be setting out from Torrith. Three Dreadlords, including himself, and seven Guardsmen, and two of the civilians. All of them competent, and chosen for their skill, Lothar knew. This journey would not be an easy one. Two hundred miles across Malakath, but at least they would see something new. At least it wasn't prison.
"I thought the Guard were punctual." Lothar quipped as one of the other scouts approached, a man by the name of Lope, or that was what everyone called him. His odd gait marking him out even in the tightest formation.
A smile quirked on the Guardsmen's lips, and he shook his head as he approached. "Aye, well, least I beat your fellows here."
"No you didn't."[/color] Lothar said with a grin. "I'm early."
Laughter bellowed from Lope's lifts, head shaking as he turned, and waited for the others. A quiet, 'fuck you, ushered from his mouth towards the Dreadlord besides him.