Fantasy A War of Kings

IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
Field, The Prairies of Mirwyth

"Are you sure that we've been followed?" Ser Lawrence had asked his companion, Ser Rickard, a few moments before. It had been Rickard that come to Lawrence that morning and said that he had a feeling that someone had been pursuing the party of Desertmen across the prairies for the last few days. Lawrence had not wanted to break anyone off from their caravan to double back and investigate who it might be. The truth was it didn't matter. Whether it was King Fenton's men or bandits that seemed to be all too common out here on the plains, the result was the same. Someone almost certainly wanted to do them harm and that was all that mattered.

Lawrence had decided not to break camp. It was a tactical decision. In the open plain, Lawrence did not like the landscape for a battle. However, the tents would force whoever they faced to break up their attack. It provided some minor cover for Lawrence and his men and it might cause their attackers to think they had caught the Desertmen unawares and still in their tents. It was the best plan that Lawrence could come up with given their position...but he'd had to deal with worse before.

The eldest son of the Kildare family had been forced to make a choice that morning after being appraised of Rickard's suspicions: heavy armor or light? If they were pursued by bandits, light armor would leave him mobile. But if Fenton's men were on them, then he would be vulnerable to their superior weaponry. Heavy armor would blunt their attacks...but leave him slower if he faced more nimble, less encumbered bandits. He had chosen heavy armor.

And so they had settled in to wait. And wait. And that had been the genesis of Lawrence's question to Rickard. His fellow knight was young, inexperienced. It was possible that he had made a mistake.

But before Rickard could answer, Lawrence put up a hand suddenly. He listened. There was noise approaching. Horses hooves on turf. Not a familiar sound to someone from the Desert, but still, it was there. And it was approaching.

"I think that we have," Lawrence said softly, "To cover men. Bring them into the camp to break them up."

Lawrence turned to hide behind one of the tents, but stopped when his eyes settled on Illiza, the priestess. For once his mind did not run to...what they had done together. She stood there with the boy who had survived the bandit attack they'd broken up. They were supposed to be inside a tent. V'hallar knew what might happen to them in the heat of battle.

"Get inside!" Lawrence hissed at them, "Stay hidden, for your own sakes!"

He couldn't see to the matter himself. The sound of the approaching force grew nearer. He stepped to place one of the tents between himself and the direction of the noise. And slowly, so as not to create sound--as if it could be heard by their attackers over the sounds of their own movement--he pulled his scimitar from its scabbard.

V'hallar help us, Lawrence thought, Even sinners such as I.

Tag: HanSolo29 and maybe spycoder9

 

20 days before the Wedding of Ser Lawrence Kildare and Princess Safia Rolmar​

​

The Isles of Mirwyth​

Breezecroft​

​

The wooden door Abott Tuckman knocked upon opened after several seconds of waiting. The man on the other side was obviously taking his own good time, as his footsteps were rather slow. When he opened the door, Korianton Rynquist was only garbed in a fluffy red robe, his feet bare. His eyes still had a sleepy look to them, and his hair was a mess, but he still had some natural charming way about him. Abott might find it odd that the man was just waking up and it happened to be near lunch.​

​

Korainton scratched his face, and a frown was obvious on his face for several seconds, but he shrugged it off. He was King Nathaniel Delmari’s right hand man. Best not to shout at a stranger.​

​

“Can I ask what this is about?”​

​

A few doors down, the King of the Isles himself sat in front of the young bastard servant Gwenn Cliffe. He noticed how scared she was to be in his presence and how confused she was about why he had her here.​

​

“Gwenn,” Nathaniel said her name slowly, pausing to take a sip of his drink, “why do you think I’ve asked you to visit me?”​

TAG: Mitth_Fisto, Jedi_padawan_leigh

 

IC: Gwenn Cliffe
Isles of Mirwyth, Breezecroft

The king seemed to ponder her words for a long moment, and Gwenn wondered what exactly the king wanted or needed with information about her mother. The silence stretched out between them for a time, until he finally spoke up once more

“Gwenn,”

The king said slowly before pausing. He reached for his water and took a sip before continuing.

“Why do you think I’ve asked you to visit me?”

She remembered what Lukas had said to her when he shook her awake that morning. She didn’t want to get him to get into trouble so she avoided mentioning his name. She stared down at her knotted fingers for a moment before looking the King in the face again.

“Coz I heard ye wanted te remove me from the Moorecroft’s service and into yer own, Yer grace. That I would be taken te Delmaristead…”


TAG: spycoder9

 

IC: Abbott Tuckman
Isles of Mirwyth, Breezecroft mannar

Either he needed to recheck what rich people did in the mornings he had missed a splended party when the scabbard had left with this steel. Because the steel looked rusty, and rusty steel meant a brittle negotiator. Grinning broadly he tipped his hat and head just enough to set his curls bobbing, "Morrow' kind sir!" he belted out. Merely to test a theory and get an answer to be sure, after all if it was the drink that did this to steel he would have to recommend an old Tuckman cure, don't stop!

Not to mention it was practically required to truly be able to swindle someone. Perhaps his family wouldn't get the hide off of this deal after all. "Trade!" he added after the shortest of pauses as explanation for why he was there. Upon another moment of silence he decided he probably should elaborate quickly before he caused the man to become too awake to let him swindle the treasury away, that or at least the parts that wouldn't sink his boat if he untied the short rope from the mooring. "Your. . .Our. . .The equally handsome charmer of a King up the hall told me to come to you oh fashionable riser and set up the finer details. Although if you want to confirm I must warn I just delivered a woman to him and left him with her after settling the initial plans of material exchange for which you need to supply values and figures to." Leaning slightly askance he looked past the swords shoulder, "Should we do this here or someplace more cozy?" The truth was that some of this was just a test, after all perhaps sword was so steely last night merely because of a belated chance to party like it was year 1.

TAG: spycoder9

 

15 days prior to the Wedding

The Mountains of Mirwyth
Shodaire
Dining Hall

The banquet was an elaborate feast, commemorating the upcoming nuptials of Shodaire’s very own Princess Safia and the arrival of several close family relatives. Candles were placed down the long tables were the commenmen sat, waiting for their own portions of food. King Desmond Rolmar, with his newly fashioned silver crown rested upon his head, chewed his own food slowly and with ease. ​

​

“It was supposed to be a closed matter,” Leenah Rolmar, with her honey blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, maintained a smile as she spoke to Safia, “But I should have known Synthia couldn’t keep it a secret long. At least it was you she told, and not one of those common house maidens. They’ve swooned over him so long they’d of surely told the whole kingdom by now.” The fox was perfectly roasted, and Leenah made sure she had a good long bite of it before continuing. “Yes, they’re to wed rather soon. The official announcement is to be made when the Maegorian entourage arrives.”​

​

“What is this?” Karridan Rolmar leaned over, not bothering to hide the fact that he had listened to their conversation. “Samule getting married?”​

​

Lennah shot him one of the dirtiest glances. “Yes, he’s to get married.”​

​

“To who?”​

​

“Brynna Maegorian. Granddaughter of the current Lord Maegorian. When Samule brought her up one night at our evening meal, both Marcus and I made it a point to meet her. Beautiful girl, and bright as well. Perfect material for Samule’s wife. Of course,” Lennah lowered her voice, “Synthia didn’t like her. She believed she wasn’t acting like herself. But who does Synthia like?” ​

​

Leenah hid her own smirk behind her wine glass as she took her first sip. Her eyes lit up at the taste.​

​

“Is this citrus wine from the Fair Groves?” Leenah took another long sip. “I don’t care what anyone has told you, Safia. You’ll most definitely love it there. One of the most beautiful places in Mirwyth.”​

TAG: JediMasterAnne

 

OOC: A couple points of fact worked out with HanSolo29 in advance to keep things moving.

IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
Field, The Prairies of Mirwyth

Lawrence sat in wait of the attack. The sounds of movement had come to a halt and silence once again lay over the prairies. He wondered what the delay was. These bandits seemed more prudent that others of their ilk. Quite unfortunate.

The knight dared a slow peek around the corner of the tent. The brigands were in the distance and stopped. He pulled back and silently cursed. Unfortunate indeed. This might change things. Rushing their attackers would be foolish. They had slightly higher ground, and beyond that they were robbed of what little defensive advantages they had. No, the Desertmen had to hold here and hope that they could lure them into further attack, one way or another. It was clear that this needed to be the underpining of whatever plan Lawrence thought up next. He wasn't sure how long he'd have.

There was a murmur that passed through the men. Something was happening. It appeared that he didn't have long at all. Once again Lawrence dared a quick look at the situation. Someone had detached themselves from the group of bandits and was coming towards the tents. Lawrence held a hand up to the men, signaling them to hold from attacking. It was highly likely that the bandit was coming to treat with them. Not usual bandit behavior, but the laws of chivalry had to be respected even if the lowly obeyed them. Actually, especially if the lowly obeyed them.

"V'hallar!" someone exclaimed. It wasn't so loud as to be heard by the bandits, but loud enough to be heard inside the camp.

Lawrence risked another look. He saw what had gotten the reaction out of one of his men. The emmisary...was a woman. There was only one kind of woman that could be reasonably expected to travel with bandits and that was a woman of ill repute. It was a curious choice to send as an agent. And then Lawrence noticed the sword. Not many trollops he knew (not that he actually knew any given his station in society) carried steel with them. Unless she wasn't a tart.

"What strange things one finds in green lands," Lawrence murmured. He looked over at Ser Rickard, who was still keeping in cover. "Stay there and watch for treachery. Though they make pretenses to honor, it may only be a facade." He put his scimitar back in its sheath.

And with that, Lawrence, resplendent in armor, stepped into the open and walked to the edge of the camp. "Ho!" he called out in as loud a voice as he could muster to reach the woman's ears, "Do you wish to parley?"

Tag: HanSolo29

 

IC: Safia Rolmar
The Mountains of Mirwyth
Shodaire, the Tower of Stone
Dining Hall

She also gave her brother a look, but hers was more of mild befuddlement than the rather disapproving expression on Leenah’s face—Safia had told Karridan herself that their cousin Samule was soon likely to be betrothed; perhaps in the shock of the news about the recent attack on Harrowmont, he had forgotten.

But at least it sounded as though Samule liked this Brynna. And Marcus and Leenah seemed to approve of her, even if Synthia didn’t. And as Leenah had said, Synthia’s disapproval didn’t mean much; Synthia didn’t like Safia either, but at least there she had the sense not to show it. I hope Samule warned Brynna as to what kind of sister-in-law she’s getting. Gods, I hope none of Ser Lawrence’s sisters are like that…

She had spent part of her afternoon talking with Synthia, and though Safia knew better than to believe much of the rumors she heard from her cousin, some of what she had heard left her a bit nervous about her own husband-to-be and his family.

And her brother Ectarion was no help either. Just ignore him, Karridan had said. Thus far, Ectarion had kept quiet during the meal, and hopefully he’d stay that way, but she couldn’t forget the things he’d said to her earlier in the dressing room. And she still wondered what it was that Karridan had said to him when they’d arrived in the dining hall, what had made their brother smirk like that…

At least that’ll be one good thing about my getting married and leaving the mountains—I won’t have to deal with Ectarion all the time. But was escaping one brother worth leaving behind the other, and their father as well, to go live with strangers? Time will tell, I suppose. She did try not to be pessimistic about her upcoming marriage, but it was hard to escape the thought that, had she had a choice in the matter, she probably would not have agreed to it. Not with only three weeks’ warning, at least.

And, of course, there were always thoughts of Matheus, lurking in the back of her mind. She tried to put those thoughts aside, to forget about the Prince, to accept that she would never belong to him as she had once hoped to, that he was forever beyond her reach. So far, though, she was having little success.

Perhaps once Ser Lawrence arrived, she might have better luck. Both her father and the messenger from House Kildare said that he was a good and respectable man (Safia was more inclined to trust them, rather than the ugly gossip she’d heard from Synthia, though that still bothered her); she could come to like him. Maybe she could be happy with him. Father and Mother were happy, after all.

“…You’ll most definitely love it there,” Leenah was saying of the Fair Groves. “ One of the most beautiful places in Mirwyth.”

Safia found herself thinking of the mountain view from the top of the Tower’s west spire—the sun would probably be setting over those mountains right about now; could any place in the desert be as beautiful as the mountains she loved?

Gods, she was going to be so homesick when she left…

“You’ve been there, then?” Another question quickly presented itself as well. “You said you met Emilie Kildare once; did you also meet her husband, Martyn Forsythe?” Synthia and her lackies hadn’t had much to say about Ser Lawrence’s father, and what they had said was vague and, as usual, not very kind. Perhaps Leenah might shed a better light on him.

TAG: spycoder9

 

OOC: Apologies about format. Access to computer is limited at the moment, but I figured that it's been a few days. So here's an update!

---

16 Days Before the Wedding
Mountains, Cyrell
Halls


They moved about to do the Lord's bidding, though his wife hesitated a slight bit before she moved.

The passion both she and Gordon had shared at the beginning of their marriage had diminished rapidly after the birth of their son. He had expected more children, and she had wanted to help. But for some reason, whenever she became impregnated with another babe, it died. Almost suddenly, and in the night, while her husband laid beside her. Had it not been then, she would of tried to fake a pregnancy. But she always suffered a miscarriage by her husband's side. Her child bearing years had passed now, and though her husband was pleasant, the love had long since passed.

She nodded her head and passed out the door.

As Gordon himself began to walk out the door and traverse to the fencing yard where his knights practiced, he might of noticed his son speaking to another person, under the shadow of a doorway. Michael Cyrell noticed his father coming close and bid the person leave. Once the person had scurried down the hall and around a corner, Michael turned to his father and met him as he approached.

"Father," His smile wasn't too big as he spoke, "I thought your council discussions were going to last for at least another hour."As if to change the talk from his own encounter just then, "What is going on? Mother looked to be in such a hurry."


TAG: Lukes_Apprentice

 

12 Days Before the Wedding
Isles, Delmaristead
Harbor


One burly man listened to Kojiro's words and unsheathed a sword, grumbling and trying to push past some of the others. One man leaned behind him and murmured something to him that calmed him. Kojiro was close enough to hear, but he wasn't fluent enough to understand what was said. The same man that had consoled the burly man and shouted for the men to lower themselves from the ship whirled around to face Kojiro. Heavy beard, tanned skin, bright blue eyes and blonde hair, the man looked almost nothing like Kojiro. And yet he would be able to tell that the man himself was furious.

"Shut up, before you get yourself and this crew into even more trouble." He looked the man up and down, noticing his bare feet. "Ronto He shouted to the burly man, "Tie his hands and feet. Any funny business and you can snap his neck." The man who was almost two head's taller than the blonde man pushed to Kojiro, a large frown on his face. In his hands he held long rope, and he approached the foreign man with it.

"And you up there!" The blonde man called to Kenji, "Come down as well! And then the Captain! All will be explained once you have exited the ship."

"How. . ." The Captain's mouth was slightly gaped open as he shared a glance with Kenji. "Things. . .things were not like this before we left." News was scarce across the seas. Changes in rulership were heard about, and things of that nature, but other that pretty much nothing. Though the Captain would of thought changes in lordship would of been reported on in Delmaristead. . .considering Lord Nathaniel Delmarihad only a daughter.

"I said come down!" Another arrow thunked down on the ship, a few feet away from Kenji.

---

Streets


The cloaked figure was none other than Diana, the assassin to Pronounced King of the Isles Nathaniel Delmari. She had remained in hiding up until this point, biding her time and watching the denizens out the window on her residence.

Only days before, on the harbors of Delmaristead, Diana had watched as the queen she was supposed to protect was fired upon. The woman collapsed, and was carried aboard the ship by one of her knights Ser Amery Howde. The princess, Raven, was assumed to have been able to get aboard the ship as well, seeing as how her whereabouts were unknown to the rebels. As the ship had sailed away in a flash, the harbor had dissolved to conflict. Pretty soon the whole city had become a fight between the knights and the citizens.

"Excuse you!" A man tried to open a shop door and almost hit her. His face was in a snarl, something commonly found on people's faces now. Diana kept walking, and the man considered following her, but then decided to abandon the idea. Something about her seemed dangerous enough.

Diana needed to find someone who might know all of what was going on. Seclusion, while safe, meant she didn't quite hear all the news. Several of these people included palace officials who had not planned to depart with the royalty.

Without her king, her queen, or her princess, Diana was pretty much alone now.


TAG: Splinterthemindseye_, Saintheart, afellowjedi

 

OOC: Thanks to Spycoder9 for filling in Micheal’s reaction and helping move this post along.

IC: Gordon Cyrell & Michael Cyrell
16 Days Before the Wedding
Mountains, Cyrell Halls and Study
Gordon turned towards his son and looked at him with fatherly affection. Gordon sighed and began “Son, it appears that my hand has been forced despite my better judgment towards war. There’s been an attack on Harrowmont, and there were no survivors. It is assumed it is Reynard’s men, and they ride to pillage each and every castle, until they reach Shodaire. I guess I knew something like this could be a result of Lord Rolmar’s actions, I just hoped that it could be avoided. I realize this news may shock and dismay you, but being the man I am I will not turn my back on obligations or run from the cowards that did this. As for your mother she is gathering information that could be useful. It is up to her how she does it.”

Gordon felt like he was validating the death, destruction, and chaos to come. Gordon felt like his father was standing front of him with his older brother staring at him with disgust and the feeling was unsettling.

Gordon smiled halfheartedly and said, “Son, I know that you are fine young man and you will want to stand by my side to defend the mountains. However, you are the only son I have, so you may be required to stay behind. I will have to think on the matter of your staying here or going to battle. You may follow your mother and help her gather information on those that attacked Harrowmount if you wish, as for me I must prepare for war and speak to the people. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

"Stay behind. . .and rule while you are gone?" Michael hid most of his pleasure at the thought, but he did smirk a little. "I would be proud to stay behind, knowing that you are thinking about me. I think I shall follow mother, and see if she needs any help." He was still smiling as he walked away.

Gordon frowned because that was not reaction he was hoping to receive.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
30 minutes later
Gordon had managed to retreat to his study to formulate his speech. This speech would have to be one the best he ever gave because he had a feeling some in the mountains did not want to fight. He had to convince them this was the only way out. So dipping his pen in ink he began to write.

Citizens, men of the watch, and knights of the realm we stand on the edge of a new dangerous venture, and we must not falter in our duties or our resolve. I regret to inform you that Harrowmount has been attacked and we do not know of any survivors that have been found. Lord Harrowmount was a good and decent man and I counted him a friend. These men responsible for this deed are murders without honor or sense of decency. They plan on destroying every castle all the way to Shodaire. In response, I plan on assembling the armies under my personal command and hopefully many others with the support of King Rolmar. We must unite together in the cause of defending our lands and our lives. These men and all those like them prove that they do not care about us. I on the other care about those who given their allegiance and efforts to make this castle and this region prosper. I along with the knights and all fighting men among you swore to protect this land and your lives and that is what we will do. Put your faith in us and yourselves, be strong, console those who feel loss, and be stout in your resolve.​

Godon thought about it and said to himself, “I believe this will do.” However, he knew that it would be best to run it by his top advisers first. Gordon headed to his bedroom retrieved a dagger and hid it on himself and went to seek out his chief advisers.

Tag: spycoder9

 

Shima Kojiro

12 days before some barbarian courtship ritual
Docks of some bad-smelling place in the West

Kojiro had a headache. A very bad one. And now some round-eyed gaijin was walking up to him with asanawa in hand. Well, even if he did not understand the barbarians' language (which half the time sounded like the yapping of dogs to him, anyway) he understood that as meaning one of two things -- and he didn't imagine the barbarians practiced shibari here, either, not that he'd ever cared for that mincing art of courtesans, either.

His tetsubo was still across his shoulders, so as the big barbarian moved towards him, he shrugged it off, bringing it to his hands. Doing so, of course, moved his obi somewhat and sent a breeze to caress his nether regions; he was not, after all, wearing a loincloth.
As the big barbarian glanced down at that sight, it gave Kojiro all the time in the world to slide one hand down to the rounded, butt end of the tetsubo, and the other hand to the weapon's balance point, its fulcrum.

By the time the big barbarian looked back up at Kojiro's face, he was already moving.

The iron-studded, massive point of the tetsubo blurred. He shifted on his feet, thrusting the club like a spear in a downward strike. The training of all the Otosan clans was in agreement on one issue: when one struck, one struck with the full weight of the body behind it; true power resided in the hips as well as the arms and legs. Training strong enough to be remembered as second nature; training that could not be wiped out with sake. The greatclub's heavy point struck clean, and hard, directly into the big barbarian's groin. There was a crack and the big man collapsed, screaming; that would be the hip shattering. He might walk again someday, but the man'd likely not be bearing children with the damage the iron stud would've done to that area.

One down. Several more. The other barbarians hadn't recovered from their shock, so he snarled a kiai, wheeling the tetsubo back to guard, buying another couple of of seconds. The archer was the next issue, or at least protection from the shot; whether Kenji had spotted that one or not, some instinct wheeled him left, towards the edge of the rough semicircle the barbarians had formed on him. This, too, was training: when engaged with multiple opponents, do not hold your ground. Circle round them, force one behind the other, tangle up their lines of attack. Combined with the shock of the first strike, it seemed to be working; he had a good three of them in a straight line, one behind the other. And likely the archer had no clear line of fire on him.

The barbarian in front of him, as it turned out, had a little more sense -- he was dragging a straight-edged blade of some kind from a leather sheath, and screaming something in his barbarian tongue. No matter; now Kojiro turned the tetsubo to its more orthodox use, which was as a refined form of the bo; still with one hand on the butt, one hand at the fulcrum, wheeling it in rough figure-8 patterns in attack. The barbarian's blade came up; he caught it with the handle of his tetsubo, pushing it away, and the wheeling motion brought the iron-studded end of the greatclub up. Another high crack as he broke that swordsman's arm just below the shoulder; that one was out of the fight also. And the next one was coming in, so he chambered and unloaded a high, hard strike that caught the third one at the jawline and sent him not only unconscious, but sprawling across the ground two feet away.

They're frightened, he registered as the other barbarians stumbled and shouted and tried to clear their weapons, but that won't last long. Good as he might me, eventually these fools would start to form up. For that, he needed support. He needed Kenji.

TAG: @Splinterthemindseye_, afellowjedi (if she's there...?), @ spycoder9

EDIT: Quick glossary for those of you wondering about the phrases:

asanawa = rope
shibari = an "art of love", shall we say, further elaboration upon which is against the TOS.
gaijin = barbarian, outsider.
tetsubo = iron-studded greatclub; Kojiro has it in hand in his character portrait.
kiai = shout from the diaphragm; a form of battle cry.
bo = quarterstaff

In terms of how the weapon's being gripped, believe it or not this picture roughly approximates the use:

 

Sanjuro Kenji
12 days before the wedding.
Delmaristead Docks

"I said come down!"

Kenji didn’t understand what the man had shouted, for his concentration was on the archer that had just fired, and on his countryman that had just effectively neutered the large blond man. He was careful only to look at Kojiro and not at the archer directly, using only his peripheral vision to assess him.

Most of the men on the dock were taken aback by the swiftness and violence of Kojiro’s attack and another of the men had fallen to the mighty Samurai’s Tetsub. If Kojiro wasn’t careful though that archer would place an arrow in his back. Kenji shouted at his countryman “Shashu wa hidari!”(bowman to the left)

Kenji felt as much as saw the archer as the man stood from his hiding spot on the ship to the left. He was trying to draw a bead on Kojiro in an effort to put the man down. Thus he didn’t see Kenji’s Yumi come up or the draw of the arrow. Kenji almost smiled. As a boy he could hit gurumi at seventy paces. As a warrior he frequently placed arrows in the eye sockets of armored enemies.

Time seemed to stop for Kenji. He felt the beat of his heart and the tickle of the fletching against his cheek. He released, and time seemed to spring forward with the arrow. The projectile struck true, behind the archer’s neck and straight into the bicep of his draw arm before punching through into the forearm.

Screaming the archer wrenched as he loosed the arrow. The shaft went wide of the target, that being Kojiro’s spine, and knocked into the Tetsubo instead. Kenji had a moments regret about that. He surely would get an ear full from Kojiro about it later.

The archer was out of the fight but not dead, and that was important. He didn’t want this burst of violence to be too much to come back from. On the other hand they needed to show that warrior’s from Otosan should not be meddled with.

Then Kenji cringed as Kojiro laid another man out, clearly breaking the man’s jaw and sending him flying. It had just occurred to Kenji that his countryman might not feel the same way. He shouted again in Otosanie. “Kojiro, don’t kill anyone you don’t have to. They may yet grow brains.”

To punctuate his statement Kenji loosed three arrows in rapid succession. One took the knee of a man that was trying to flank Kojiro, the second missed the knee of the second flanker but stumbled the man and the third parted the hair of the shouting man. Kenji felt it was a good time to negotiate. With a fourth arrow nocked, drawn and aimed at the shouting man, Kenji formed the barbarian words.

“Situation now different I think. No archer. Many men down, but none Otosan. No dead. Leave now and peace comes.”

Kenji waited for the reply. If it was anything other than acceptance... well he would demonstrate to the shouting man what he did to enemies in armor.

Tag: Saintheart spycoder9 afellowjedi (if near)

 

Shima Kojiro
12 days before some barbarian courtship ritual
Docks of some bad-smelling place in the West

Kenji's voice cut through -- as did the three arrows sent in that direction. One took out the knee of a gaijin that had decided to flank him, and the second staggered another one. These ones, it seemed, knew a little of combat tactics.
“Kojiro, don’t kill anyone you don’t have to. They may yet grow brains.”
He hesitated; then snapped a blow across the second flanker's chest, sending him sprawling.
"That one will live," he said over his shoulder in reply to Kenji, and backpedaled, heading for the bottom of the gangplank, tetsubo chambering for another strike if the gaijin chose to make a fight of it. He could hear Kenji talking -- some words, Leave, peace, he recognised, so Kojiro crouched, coiled, waiting to see which idiot would attack first.

TAG: Splinterthemindseye_ spycoder9 afellowjedi

 

IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
Field, The Prairies of Mirwyth
15 days before his wedding

Without the shedding of blood? Lawrence couldn't help but smile at that. "You have a curious way of doing things without bloodshed!" Lawrence called out, "One does not often offer an armored fist by way of a sign of good faith!" Of course, Lawrence's own hands--indeed, his entire body--was armored so it was perhaps not the best analogy. Speaking of which, Lawrence realized that perhaps in full armor he was not making the best impression of being willing to do things without battle, which in truth he wanted. There was no need for men to die today if it could be avoided. He removed his helmet and put it under an arm. "But state your business and..."

Lawrence's voice faltered for a moment. The plains were relatively flat. Though these bandits (why bandits? He'd chosen his heavy armor in anticipation of Fenton's men. He was at a speed disadvantage with them now, even if he was well protected) had a slight higher ground than his men did, it was still relatively straight sight lines in every direction and that made it easy to spot part of the band breaking off from where they'd come from. It looked like a flanking maneuver.

He tapped one armored finger against his leg, creating a gentle clink to get the attention of Rickard. "Have men keep an eye on our wayward friends, would you?" he said softly, giving a gentle nod of his chin towards the bandit party now on the move, "I'd rather we not have unwelcome advances from an inconvenient angle."

The knight turned his attention back to the woman and raised his voice once more. "I say, state your business and approach. Though what business you have with me that might require bloodshed is beyond me. We are travelers in this land and unless my memory fails me, we have done no offense in our journey."

Tag: HanSolo29 spycoder9

 

OOC: I understand I passed a couple of people, but they are next on my list of updates. These two are so behind in plot though that I really need to speed things up with them a little.

---

20 Days Before the Wedding
Isles, Breezecroft
Castle


"Ah, wise as well as cunning. Something not expected from the average illegitimate child." Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, glancing out at the sea. "You are correct, my dear. Delmaristead is. . .under great duress in these times. Only few a man can trust. Not even his own family, at times."

He sighed and laid his cup down on the table with a clink.

"You know, grey eyes run in House Delmari? Yes, yes. Every female Delmari born in the time before had beautiful grey eyes. Almost like mist that comes in from the sea on an early morning. My daughter, Raven, of course, was one of the exceptions. Perhaps because I never had a true born son, she was to make up for it. But yes, all Delmari women possess those mystic grey eyes."

He eyed Gwenn, waiting to see what might lie in her response.

Down the hall, a groggy Korianton was not in a mood to be toyed with. Especially by a hideous, bearded nuisance like Abott Tuckmam.

"I don't believe I hear correctly." Korianton straightened up, his voice sharper. "Do I hint the slightest bit of you mocking me? Perhaps you don't understand exactly who I am. Aide to the king of the isles. I could have you charted off to the damn Great Continent if I so pleased."

He then crossed his arms.

"Now, you may start over. And do speak up, because sea whiskey does the worst to my hearing." The man had to be a little drunk, to be admitting to a commoner that he was in fact drunk.


TAG: Mitth_Fisto, Jedi_padawan_leigh

 

OOC: This post uses an update from spycoder, which he sent to me to be integrated into this post.


IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
Field, The Prairies of Mirwyth
15 days before his wedding

"It's. . .my brother." The young woman halted in her steps. The fear of being killed made her voice stutter. "We were raided and-and our family, they were killed. I protected my brother but. . ." She sighed. "I know you men have him. Just please, let me have him returned. I. . ." She stepped closer to Ser Lawrence, her eyes filled with pain. Her next words were quieter, hopefully unheard by the opponents. "I need to escape with him."

The boy. All this over the boy. How strange--an act of protection had nearly led to violence. What a world this was.

"Fear not," Lawrence said, his voice no longer booming across the fields but conversational, "Your brother is safe. He is currently safe in one of the tents. Come." Lawrence approached her and extended a hand. "Let me bring him to you."

Thhhhhh....thwump.

Anyanka stumbled into Lawrence's arms, awkwardly closing the distance between them. The knight was taken off guard by the sudden weight he supported, but remained on his feet. It was only then that he felt something poking his armor, keeping the two apart. It was an arrow that had come from behind Lawrence, from the second group of bandits that had now come around behind the camp. The arrow was in Anyanka's chest, which was gushing blood with the pumping of her heart.

"My brother...where is my brother?" Anyanka begged with a wild look in her eyes. It was a look that Lawrence had seen in the eyes of hardened pirates, professional soldiers, men of business, women of the hearth, and even children. It was death staring back out at him. "I have to see..."

She coughed and blood spurted from her mouth, splashing Lawrence's armor. The knight let her fall to the ground. Cruel, but where there was one armor, another was not too far behind. He knelt to pick up his helm from where it had fallen on the grass in his surprise at Anyanka stumbling toward him.

"MEN!" Lawrence shouted, "Ready yourselves for attack!" And with that he pulled his helmet on and drew his scimitar.

Today would not be a day without shedding of blood. In fact, Lawrence would not be surprised if everything would be coming up roses come the next spring. Blood red roses watered with the life of bandits.

Tag: spycoder9 HanSolo29

 

IC: Abott Tuckman
Hallway, Breezecraft Castle, Isles

It was a rather rude welcome it was true, and rather a harsh one. Steel's in the past had been to cut quick, and the rusty ones were the ones more likely to make it painful as they were shoddy workers. Still profits gleamed and thoughts yet danced. "No sir, I do not mock. It brings no profit." he replied with a straight face, made from years of practice even in his childhood. "As I was saying, the King of the Isles and me, we've come to an understanding for me to sell the goods you currently cannot, and bring back those you cannot get. Such as grains and foods and drinks for now, and possibly other material in the future as this war progresses."

Opening his palms face up he gave a slight shrug, "I left him with a woman, as he told me to come to you to finalize the deal, as you will need to provide the goods and a few ships and crews to meet the amount the King believes his people need." With a small head nod he awaited the steels response and kept always the straight face and moderate tones. After all, no one here wanted to be shipped off to the continent, at least not without a pass to return.

TAG: spycoder9

 

GM Approved

Name: The Black Knight
Age: Middle
Gender: Male

Appearance:

Homeland: The Capital City
King: The Rightful King
Occupation: Knight and Defender of the Rightful King of Merwyth
Family Banner: White Cross on Black
House Words: Loyalty

Biography: Found orphaned, the Black Knight was taken in by a group of Corresian monks who lived in an Abbey in islands south of Breezecroft. These monks believed it their holy duty to train men of exceptional quality to serve the House of the King of Merwyth. Without a name, he was trained from his youth towards this purpose, studying swordsplay, strategy and tactics, horse-riding and jousting, and all manner of warfare. The Black Knight has no name for a reason. He is not an individual. He is an arm of the King, a secret weapon used to punish those traitors to the crown. He finds himself now in Valona, summoned out of his perpetual training, to serve his master.

 

OOC: Imperial Hammer is in the game?!?!?!??!

Oh snap!
*and welcome....*

 

OOC:


The Hammer returns.

W00T!

 

OOC: Info provided by El Spycoder

Lorain Ashkey
The Coast near Aqarda - The Deserts of Mirwyth - 19 Days before the wedding.

It was a long trek to the town. She thought it would have been closer, from they way they had talked. But, at least there was a town. They stayed quiet for the most part, and every so often the men exchanged a glance with each other. That made her nervous. Why did they act as if there was something to hide? The man in robes kept looking at her as if she was someone like those pirate or something, giving her the evil eye. That, or he had issues with women in general. Or BIG women. Lorain had run into that often enough. So she opted to stay silent for now, as they walked. She brushed at her arms, as blowing sand stuck to her. She was still wet, but the walked had helped to dry off her hair at least. Her clothing would take longer. Oh well. Eventually she could see a small grouping of buildings ahead.


With a grin, she picked up her pace, jogging along happy to at last run into other people.
But something was wrong. There was silence. Lorain came to a dead stop, as she looked about, her look of anticipation fading swiftly. There were no people. No noise. Nothing. No bodies. If the village had been attacked, they should be able to tell. There was not even animals to make a sound. She shivered slightly. And she wasnt sure if it was because she was still wet, or something else. She continued to look around.

But there was nothing. Ser Kaleb looked around, running in buildings, shouting out for people. But no one came. His voice echoed off the empty streets and buildings. Lorain shivered as she began to search the area. She needed to find a blacksmith or an armorer shop. Quickly. She hated being unarmed. Especially with THIS. This was...

"What happened?!" Ser Kaleb shouted at the silence.

Lorain walked down the street, looking at the buildings. She saw that one door had been ripped off its hinges. A very sick feeling began to fill the pit of Lorain's stomach. Could it have been....the pirates? This looked a bit, to neat though.. As she peeked inside the building where the hinge had been ripped open she saw it was a small home. And there was a hand. A moving hand. It twitched gently.

"Here!" Lorain called out, as she moved towards the opening that had been made. Hopefully, that person could tell them something. And if she was very lucky, Lorain might find a weapon she could quickly grab. A knife..anything would be useful at this point.She made her way carefully, just in case there was someone hiding, just waiting to attack someone walking into the home.

This was not good. And combined with the weird looks her new-found companions had been giving her, she did not trust them. She could see them trying to blame her somehow. She just hoped it was not the pirates, for that would mean they were close.

Too close.

Lorain moved cautiously. She could only hoped she had not jumped from one bad situation into another.


TAG: @Spycoder9

 

15 Days Before the Wedding
The Capital of Mirwyth, Valona
Training Yards


Sunlight beamed down through wispy clouds, mixing to make a perfect blend of hot and cold in the air. Matheus Reynard, eldest child of the Reynard King and Queen, took it upon himself to fence along with his brother Seymour and several other knights under the King’s banner. The Black Knight himself was there as well, but not under usual circumstances.

“Quit being so serious!” Maela Reynard, while in her teenage years, still pranced around the knight like a little child. Her brown curls cascaded down her back, bouncing and shaking as she hopped.


Maela

Considering the dangers that came with being a princess, along with the increasing tension amongst the lords, Maela herself was in much danger. Rather beautiful, if not still innocent in the ways of the world. A war was coming, and soon enough she might find herself in the middle of things. So, for that day, while knights sparred, the Black Knight guarded and protected the princess.

A rather intimidating job, when you think about it.

“Know any jokes?” She asked, running her toes through the fresh, green grass.

---

Dining Hall


Tea time was common courtesy.

Especially when the host was the Rightful Queen of Mirwyth and the guests were ladies of many important Capital Houses.

Emilia Reynard, with some persuasion from her husband, decided to hold a tea to see where the other women stood on the whole situation of the kingdom.

Lady Gelsi of House Croix made it a point to attend. What with her pompous outfits and outrageous hairdo, she wanted to make it a point that House Croix did not fit into common laws. But, to cover up for their odd habits, the House was rich. Enormously so. And it would benefit the kingdom well if their coffers flowed right into the Capital’s. So, for the time being, Emilia would have to put up with the woman.

“I noticed the lovely eastern addition to the castle.” Lady Jenane of House Olves noted over her cup of tea. “A whole chamber for visitors. Very accommodating, my Queen.”

“Ah yes, I saw that!” Lady Gelsi exclaimed, causing some of the woman to spill a little tea. They dabbed their mouths with their little white handkerchiefs. “Rather large and intimidating, don’t you think. Why yes, the décor was pleasant and all, but couldn’t it of been fashioned out of something other than that drab grey stone.”

Gelsi sipped some of her tea, and wrinkled her nose a bit. Just enough for the other women to catch it.


TAG: Imperial_Hammer, HanSolo29