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RPF A War of Kings

Discussion in 'Fan Activities' started by spycoder9, Apr 26, 2012.

  1. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyth
    The Oasis of Dawnsgrace


    The Crypts

    The two of them stood in the crypts.

    “It still feels as if she lives.” Ghazzan Gerhund whispered, almost afraid to disturb the silence. His skin was weathered from many years of riding in caravans, it had wrinkled a bit from age. His hair, ghost white, was cut close to his head, and his eyes were a strong brown. To Mors Santagar, Ghazzan looked a lot like his daughter and Mors’ former wife. A painting of her likeness had been constructed and placed in Ghazzan’s chambers. His only daughter, murdered by her own mentally retarded child.

    “I can hear her sing, like she did every morning when she rose. Clear, and strong. Just like her mother.” If Ghazzan had been a weaker man, he would’ve cried. But Ghazzan was not weak.

    Dameros. . .my one and only grandchild.” He looked to his former son-in-law. “And Mors, my one and only son-in-law.”

    The stone casket that had beautiful, vivid flowers painted all over it held the body of Arbela. It was the four year anniversary of her death, and the four year birthday for Mors’ only child, Dameros.

    “It’s the name. . .” People had whispered days after the birth. “It is cursed. . .” And perhaps it was. A name cursed because of the sins of a man gone for many years. The only product of the Lord of the Oasis of Dawnsgrace and his beloved common wife was a babe who could not grasp even the simplest of things. Nicknamed “Damnsimple” by the people of Dawnsgrace, little Dameros lived a sheltered life inside Mors Santagar’s sand hovel.

    But on her deathbed, Arbela had begged Mors to raise their child. She had seen him, and the look about him was not particularly normal. But still, she begged him to raise the boy.

    And now, four years to the day, they stood in front of her casket. Mors was no longer a lord, but a king. And her father was no longer a caravan owner, but the soon-to-be Master of Coin for Mors.

    “The Gods are blessing her soul even now, as we speak.” Ghazzan whispered finally, before going silent.

    TAG: @PointGiven
  2. Trieste Jedi Grand Master

    OOC: I'm throwing the picture in because I don't know about you guys, but this feels a lot like when I started reading Game of Thrones--I'm having trouble remembering who everyone is!
    IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
    The Prairies of Mirwyth, the Dragonwood, Outskirts


    Yes, the plains were cooler than much of the Desert. So much so that the heat under his light armor was actually bearable. In the Desert he wouldn't be able to even wear this much unless it was winter. Even so, by force of habit he still covered his head and neck with light cloth to protect it from the sun's rays. But even the sun did not seem to beat so harshly here. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that grass didn't throw light back up in your eyes like sand did.

    Ser Lawrence had seen much of the Desert in his years. A light breeze caressed the tanned creases of his face as their party rode across the grasslands of Mirwyth. But it was not unlike the breezes of the ocean that buttressed the coastal cities of the Desert. Lawrence had seen those cities, like Aqarda and Caraba. Even so, Lawrence had to privately admit that there was a certain abrasive edge to the salty winds that came off the ocean that wasn't present here. Lawrence wondered what would grow in these wide open fields and how easy it would be to cultivate it in such mild weather. But perhaps in the spring rains would flood these plains, washing away seed. And how unused to drought would farmers of the prairies be...

    "A stranger in a strange land," Lawrence murmured to himself absentmindedly.

    He had spent his life almost exclusively in the Desert. It was a land that one had to know deeply to know at all. It was not always hot, for the night was bitter cold and the winters biting. It was not always barren, for wells of water gave life where they could be dug. It was not always sand, for Lawrence had been born in an arid land of dirt and rock, a desert of a different sort. Life could grow in the desert, but not the sort of life that the rest of Mirwyth was accustomed to. Ser Lawrence had given his life to the Desert. Now he was giving it in a different way.

    The dark skinned priestess interrupted Lawrence's thoughts. Long travel through the Desert made one accustomed to being satisfied with one's own ruminations. The Desert bred silence and Ser Lawrence was a taciturn man.

    “Ser Lawrence, I need to speak to you. In the near future, if possible," Illiza requested.

    “We do not have time for visions, priestess. The present is troubling enough--” Ser Rickard curtly replied.

    “I will not be spoken to in such a degrading manner, Ser Rickard. If you wish to speak to me, you may ask--" Illiza bristled.

    “I’m sorry, dear Illiza. I’m not used to conducting with witches,” Ser Rickard said before dropping back to give the pair privacy.

    As was his way, Lawrence stayed out of the verbal sparring. There was enough hot air in the Desert. Ser Lawrence was not going to add to it.

    “Ser Lawrence. There will be blood. In the near future. Ser Rickard, along with many others, slain beneath the feet of a four headed king," Illiza whispered confidentially, looking intensely at Lawrence as she did so. “And you were there too, Ser Lawrence.”

    Lawrence turned his head, slowly, both eyebrows raised to give Illiza a quizzical look as he processed this information. "Oh?" Lawrence replied in his deep but polished voice, "A revelation, surely. No one could ever expect such a thing in the lives of knights." Lawrence idly tapped the scabbard of his scimitar with his fingers as it slapped against his hip as his steed trotted. "It is a sad fact of my life that there is much blood in it. But such is the service I have been called to," Lawrence continued, turning his head back forward.

    He was silent for a moment. "I wish you had happier dreams," he added. He had promised his sister that he would do this for her. He would stand by that promise. The Fair Groves would benefit by his actions. It was the smart move. And in council, as Knight Commander, Lawrence Kildare had been the first to endorse the plan when it had come up for debate.

    "You know," Lawrence continued, struck by a sudden thought, "I don't think you ever mentioned what gods you serve..."

    Tag: @spycoder9
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  3. PointGiven Jedi Grand Master

    Mors Santagar, King of the Desert
    The Crypts
    The Oasis of Dawnsgrace

    "The Gods will always bless Arbela," said the King of the Desert as he looked at the painted casket. Behind that forbidden stone lay the mouldering remains of his beloved Arbela. The first few times he visited the crypts, he had been seized by the desire to smash the stone open and cradle the body of his dead wife. Reason had won out then, and over the years, he had lost that desire. He did not know whether that was a good thing or bad.

    He shook his long flowing hair. A perpetual layer of dust hung around the crypts, and unfortunately it always stuck in his hair.

    I mean to have them cleaned he thought. Arbela did not deserve to lie underground in the empty silence. She was a woman who loved people; as the Lady of the Desert she spent every market day among the merchants and shoppers, talking over the news of the day. Her casket deserved to lie in the open sun as children played around her. But there were some traditions that even King Mors was loath to break.

    He laid a hand on his father-in-law's shoulder, and gently steered him away from the casket. Back when he was a Lord, he and Ghazzan would stand for hours over Arbela's body, but now that he was a King, he had work to do.

    "Just a quick word, Ghazzan, then I must attend to Dameros. I do not know if he even realizes that it's his birthday or his mother's deathday, but I shouldn't leave him alone today."

    They walked up the crumbling stone steps of the crypts towards the clay archway entrance, where two old priests stood vigil, but the King stopped before them.

    "I need to ask you a favor, Ghazzan. Two favors actually. You know of course, that I have been making appointments for the new court at the palace my masons are building. You also know that Azareen Mytalos has been angling for the position of Master of Coin."

    Ghazzan nodded ponderously.

    "I believe Azareen's talents would be better served in other courts. He has a honeyed tongue and is quick on his wits. He would serve better as an ambassador to the Isles, but that still leaves the question of who will be the Master of Coin."

    Mors smiled as understand dawned in his father in law's eyes.

    "I want you to be the Master of Coin."

    Ghazzan's jaw dropped in surprise. Mors knew how long the man had toiled and sweated to build his caravan empire. Born out of wedlock to a minor lord of Caraba, he had been fostered at Dawnsgrace by an infertile caravan master. Over the decades, Ghazzan had learned the business, taken it over after his foster father's death, and become father in law to the Lord of the Desert. Now he would have a position of influence; a far cry from the bastard born he had once been.

    Mors almost felt bad telling him of his future plans as he observed the man's shock. But it needed to be done.

    "I also want to inform you that I will be seeking a new wife. There will be no woman who can ever supplant Arbela in my heart, but the Desert needs a stable succession...and Dameros, bless his heart, would not ensure that."

    Tag: @spycoder9
  4. HanSolo29 Jedi Master

    IC: Darkeyes
    Village Center

    Pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. That's what this village was, which wasn't a far cry from the rest of the land, if truth be told. This cesspool of society could be wiped from the face of the earth and no one would bat an eye. After all, who would care? The kings certainly didn't if they allowed it to reach this level of decay in the first place. And the people...they were powerless to stop it. Their idea of life was stomping through the streets, which were covered in manure up to your knees, in a hopeless struggle to find work just to put a loaf of bread on the table. Day in and day out it was all about staying alive and at this point, only the strongest and the most fortunate managed to accomplish that goal.

    So, that begged the question - why did Beldak Darkeyes, thief, assassin and mercenary extraordinaire care so much as to stick around in this slum to avenge them and offer temporary relief to its people?

    The answer to that question was riding into the village on the muddy streets even before the thought had left his mind. It actually had very little to do with the people suffering here. Revenge was the driving force here. It was all about that pig-faced idiot, Ruugar, the leader of a competing horde who had taken it upon himself to evade upon his turf to claim his own way to fame. Little did he know that Darkeyes did not take kindly to intruders, especially those who tried to run him out of his territory. The man would pay...no, more than pay - he will be dead by the time the sun sets.

    With the staff sporting the symbol of his group (the twin dragon heads) slung across his back, Darkeyes finally pushed away from the fence he had been leaning upon when the raid was well underway. He was not alone in this operation, far from it. Loyal members of his group were scattered at strategic points around the village, poised and ready for attack at a moment's notice. All it would take was a signal to send them into flight. It was a distinct note - a whistle - that only Darkeyes knew how to replicate. The time was drawing near to give that command when Ruugar himself overtook him...

    ...or tried to.

    The man was dumber than he initially thought. With rotten teeth and a stump where his hand had once been, Ruugar smelled as bad as a pig pen as he hovered over him and demanded food in broken a broken dialect. While he held a sword in his only good hand, he was already at a disadvantage. He was off balance due to his handicap and Darkeyes intended to cash in on it.

    "You are making a horrible mistake," he warned the poor excuse of a man, his voice surprisingly sophisticated for someone of his stature. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

    He smiled a sinister smile, his dark eyes twinkling in the dim light as he took a step forward and spread his hands. "Allow me to show you." He issued a series of short whistles then, each note echoing through the trees and the dilapidated structures that littered the village. In a matter of seconds, a few dozen men jumped from their hiding places to join the fray. Ruugar was surrounded.

    Darkeyes waited for that notion to sink in before lunging forward, grabbing his sword hand and pushing his weight against his injured side in an attempt to knock the other man to the mud.

    TAG: @spycoder9
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  5. Mitth_Fisto Jedi Grand Master

    IC: Abott Tuckman
    The Bloody Breeze

    The bar wench was just finally bringing over the drinks and he was just contemplating the disdainful state of affairs even this the King's Isle was in with food for its people's when someone with a loud mouth had to speak up about having a lot of bastard children. Whoever riled that man's tail feathers to bestir the demon out of them was not liable to live past the day, especially as he looked over at the voice and heard the general murmur of King. Joy, just what the evening needed, a show of steel and stupidity. Letting out a deep sigh he placed his hands on his knees.

    Who was more stupid though? The fool or the king who goes out with a single guard into the midst of a starving and turmultious peoples? Either way his gut had a feeling his drink would be long coming and his appitite just may be unrecovereably disturbed for the night. The she-boy kneeling was a good indication of that. He had originally said it as a slight for a young boy being at the table with the older gentlemen, the lack of laughter and any reaction beside a mild shock from the youth was a good sign he had missed and hit the nail on the head.

    Either way he stayed seated and simply looked at the King and the fool who had had too much. A part of him hoped his drinks would arive and the fool would take a swig. Maybe then blood-letting could be avoided. Only time and steel would tell today with metal was drawn with or without cause.

    TAG: @Chukles38 , @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh , @spycoder9
  6. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Isles of Mirwyth

    The Courtyard

    The knights had not finished their sparring yet. Many still battled. Two especially charming knights were getting the attention of many throughout the crowd. A tall, strong man with sun tanned skin and sandy blonde hair whipped his training sword around, bringing it down on the other man. The other man tried to block the attack, but failed. His armor smashed onto the ground with a clank, the fatigued man rising and limping away. The champion raised his training sword above his head and let the others cheer and clap for him.

    Then he noticed Raven standing near the front of the courtyard, watching everyone. Smiling, he strolled towards her, spinning his sword in his hand.


    “Your Grace.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Ser Amery Howde, princess.” He bowed to her and then stood. “What brings you to such a dangerous place. It’s not a good place for women to be. You could get hurt.”

    Some of the other knights had been watching. A few of them knew about Princess Raven’s habits to spar and battle. And they knew exactly what kind of mess Amery was getting into.

    “Amery!” One of them shouted. “Don’t mess with her. She could bring you down within a minute.”

    Amery chuckled.

    “Do not kid about the princess.” He took her hand. “Let me lead you back inside, your grace. I’ll even take you to your chambers, if you’d like.”

    A few hours later, The Queen’s Chambers

    Queen Kalera Delmari had requested the audience of Diana the moment she had arrived back at the castle. The Queen’s chambers were large and spacious, with a personal stone balcony that provided a view of distant salty sea. When Diana knocked on the door, the Queen called for her to enter.


    Kalera was on the balcony, looking out over the great horizon. The stars twinkled in the sky, and looked beautiful.

    “Come here, Diana.” The Queen called. Once Diana had come out onto the balcony, the Queen said nothing. Occasionally she would sip on some deep red wine, but her gaze never faltered from the sea. “Do you see the ocean, my dear? At night, it’s almost magical, is it not?”

    She closed her eyes and breathed in.

    “The smells. Salt and freshness. Peace. Tranquility. Much more nice than the mountains, wouldn’t you say?”

    She drained the glass of wine, then looked at it. The moonlight shone down, and through the glass it twinkled around the balcony. In a sudden cry of fury, she tossed the glass over the side. And down it fell, to the ground below.

    “It is a nightmare here, sweet girl. Surrounded by water on all sides. I have nightmares. Nightmares of marauding men entering the palace. They grab me, and attack me, and lead me down to that water. And they push me into it. As I drown, they lift me back up to catch my breathe. Then they shove me back into it.” She looked down at her hands. “And the worst part is that the man who is doing it. . .is my husband. Imagine making love to man who haunts your dreams. Imagine living day by day to a man who scares you more than anyone else.”

    She shuddered.

    “I try to get the thoughts from my head. And I was actually doing well. Until I found out I was pregnant last year. I am late in age, and my pregnancies have always been complicated. But my dreams started to show both me and my unborn child being drowned. I lost the child very early into the pregnancy. Nathaniel never even knew about it." She wiped away a tear. "I am a mountain girl. I was born of House Rolmar, and am a descendant of the first men.” Kalera turned to Diana. “I belong at Shodaire with my brother. Not here dining with people I don't belong with. My daughter is safe, as I believe my husband does actually love her. But me. . .I am. . . disposable.”

    She walked back into her chambers.

    “I am going to ask something of you, girl. Something that might require you to lie to your king, and to my husband. I permit it, though.” She smiled as she grabbed a new glass of wine. Then the Queen turned to Diana.

    “I want you to kill me, child.”

    She took a long sip, letting her sentence sink in.

    “My brother has told me he plans on wedding my niece soon. And I am expected to be there, along with Nathaniel. Which means you would have a liable excuse to be there as well.” She smiled. “And after the wedding, you are to walk with me out to the balconies overlooking the mountains. I shall scurry down the side and run, but you will tell everyone else that I was pushed by my maid. I doubt you care to kill her, do you? Murder her, tell them I am dead, and then forget about it.”

    The Queen sat down on her bed with her glass of wine.

    “I am asking this of you, child, because I know of your talents. You took out a whole ship of men just today. I trust you in this.”

    She gulped down the final bit of her glass.

    “So, Diana. Will you kill your queen when the time comes?”

    TAG: @Teegirl00, @afellowjedi
  7. trimaj Jedi Master

    Spycoder approvified

    Name: Ser Malcolm Granville
    Age: 26
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: [IMG]
    Homeland: The Mountains
    King: King of the Mountains
    Occupation: Knight
    Family Banner: [IMG]
    House Words: All men bleed.
    Biography: Malcolm Granville learned the truth of his words at a very early age. He is the last survivor of a now destroyed house, with no lands, no wealth, and only his King to thank for having a roof over his head. At the age of 7 was when he was brought into the house of Rolmar, and put to work running errands, cleaning in the kitchens and helping out in the yards. It was the yards that he liked the most, the noise of swords and and the sight of blood when someone made a mistake. It was the blood that really drew his attention. Perhaps because of his families words, perhaps because something broke in him when he stumbled out of where he'd been hiding and found everyone he'd known slaughtered. Either way Desmond ended up being informed, and saw an opportunity.

    No one is entirely sure what the training that Malcolm received was, some say he learned how to assassinate people, others that it was black magic. Others think its only because he's crazy, regardless no one messes with him. But he always seems to find out what others don't want him to know, and as such as become King Desmond's spy master. However, no one but he and Desmond know what he did to earn the ser before his name. The rumors about it are never mentioned in his presence though.

    He has had his eye on Safia Rolmar for years now, but knows that were he to ever try anything it would be a death sentence. So he watches her when he can get away with it.
  8. Obi Anne Reg: Nov 98 manager

    The Farms

    Anyanka sat down beside the cow and started to squeeze out the warm milk. She also buried her face in the soft side of the cow and let the tears trickle down. She didn't want anyone to see her crying. Her father's word had hurt. At least he had acknowledged that she did return home, unlike her brothers, but still he always made her feel quite useless at home. It was different when she was away, taking care of herself, then she felt good, but at home she always felt like just a small girl and without any possibility of making decisions of her own.

    She got the last drops of milk into the pail, dried her tears with the back of her hand and went to see her mother. There hadn't been much milk, but it would be enough to churn som butter. Butter that could be sold if they only got it to the market. When she asked her mother if she should put it to rest so that they would be able to separate the fat cream from the milk her mother just shook her head though.

    "It's unrest in the country", her mother said "your father has decided that we are not going to go to the market. You told us yourself about their being new kings, and new kings can be dangerous".

    Anyanka knew that in a way her parents were right. The safe thing to do would be to start storing away anything that might support them if war would come. At the same time she felt it was wrong to just go away and hope that nobody would notice them. By not going to the market she thought that they would also miss any chance of getting information on what was really happening, and by selling their butter they would get the chance to buy more seeds that they would need when it was time to sow again. Well her father had decided, and being a small girl nothing she said would make him change his mind.

    TAG: @spycoder9
  9. Teegirl00 Jedi Grand Master

    Raven Delmari
    The Courtyard

    Raven made it down to the courtyard where the knights were still sparring. They were spread out in several different matches. Raven hoot and hollered as the fights grew more tense. She couldn’t keep her excitement in. She wanted to get in on the action herself. It would be a challenge with this dress on. Still she knew her way around a sword.

    She remembered when she first received her first sparring lesson from a renowned master swordsman from the mountains. She was about ten years old when Ser Eldridge Bach came to her as a gift from her father. He taught her not just to swing a sword but how to dance gracefully while fighting. She practiced everyday until she became the dance. She missed Ser Eldridge and his teachings. It was one of the best experiences of her life.

    Most of the matches wrapped up and all eyes seem to be on the last two knights still sparring. She recognized one of the men to be Ser Duncan Kendall, a scruffy haired man with stubble for a beard. The other man she did not recognize, he must have been a newcomer for this was the first time she has ever saw him.. With his sandy blond hair and tanned features, he was a handsome man. Raven was sure that he was the kind of knight that ladies of the court normally swoon over.

    The sandy haired man was clearly winning as he whipped his sword around bringing it down on Ser Duncan. The scruffy haired knight tried to block but missed terribly. Ser Duncan limped away tired and beaten, as the crowd cheered on the newcomer. Raven clapped less enthusiastically than she had earlier in the day.

    For some odd reason Raven must have caught the newcomer’s eye for he walked over toward her smiling as he spinned his sword in his hand.

    “Your Grace.” he took Raven’s hand and kissed it, in which she responded with a raised eyebrow. “Ser Amery Howde, princess.”

    “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ser Amery Howde.” she said playing along with the niceties.

    “What brings you to such a dangerous place. It’s not a good place for women to be. You could get hurt.”

    “Oh I’m sure my knight in shining armor would protect me” she smiled playfully. Just then one of the knights who knew Raven shouted out a warning to Ser Amery.

    “Don’t mess with her. She could bring you down within a minute.” Ser Amery gave a chuckle to this which made Raven raise another eyebrow. Ser Amery didn’t heed the warning from the other knight. Raven thought he was a fool to not listen.

    He took her hand. “Let me lead you back inside, your grace. I’ll even take you to your chambers, if you’d like.”

    “Really, that is so thoughtful of you” She said mischievously.

    They walked only a few steps before Raven twisted Ser Amery’s arm and kicked his feet from under him.

    “I think I’ll stay here thank you very much.” she gave him a smile as the other knights laughed at his folly. The knight that gave the warning said “I told you so.”

    “I see you are a feisty one” Ser Amery said as he got up and dusted himself off. Raven just smiled mockingly toward him.

    “Now you know I can take care of myself. If there is a time that you may need saving just call on me”

    Ser Amery smiled and replied back “Indeed I will princess, Indeed I will.”

    Raven started walking back toward her room. She looked down at her dress and saw dirt at the bottom. “Once again I got my dress all dirty. Mother is gonna kill me.”

    TAG: @spycoder9
  10. Chukles38 Jedi Master

    IC: Nathaniel Delmari, The King of the Isles
    The Bloody Breeze Tavern

    A hint of a smile touched Nathaniel's face. While the last addition to his streak of mischief was unnecessary and, quite possibly, dangerous, the old king was having more fun than he'd had in some time. His smile only faltered for a brief moment when he saw the marks pressed through the shirt of the young girl kneeling before him. He quickly regained composure, however, and waved off the formalities. "Oh, please, get up. I'm only here for a drink." He moved past the kneeling girl to pull over a chair, settling down at the table the girl had previously abandoned. He was relaxed as he sat there, examining those gathered.

    He noticed that Korianton hadn't joined him, but instead stood just behind Nathaniel, hand on his hilt as he examined the crowd examining them. "Lord Rynquist, for the love of all that is good, sit down. Relax."

    "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you." Interesting. His political mask was breaking, his voice abrupt. Nathaniel must indeed be annoying, or angering, the young Korianton. He was young though. He would get over it.

    "If you're worried about my safety, be at ease. They're loyal to me. I'll be fine."

    Korianton snorted. "You're so sure of their loyalty?" His tone was incredulous.

    The barkeep rushed over, bowing as he placed Nathaniel's ale down in front of him. The old king raised a brow. "Oh, relax, man, will you?" As the barkeep turned, apologizing as he did so, Nathaniel caught his sleeve. "One moment, fine sir." He grabbed his money pouch, weighing it in his hand. He then handed it to the man. "I believe this should be enough to cover the drinking to be done tonight, don't you?" Nathaniel's voice was, perhaps, a touch louder than necessary. The barkeep, eyes wide, nodded, moving away to place his newly acquired treasure in a more secure location. "So, yes, Kori, I am reasonably certain."

    In response, Korianton raised a brow at him. "I'm not sure I approve. If something should happen to you--"

    "Then something happens to me. I've lived a good life, but I wish to end it having, at least once, been just a man one last time." The King turned his attention to those gathered around the table, ended with Korianton for the time being. "You know, of course, I used to be a sailor. Roamed all over the Isles, I did, and many lands beyond. In all my travels though, and all the taverns I've been in, this," He tapped a finger on the tabletop, "is by far my favorite. The memories..." The old man trailed off, looking around the tavern for a moment. "Yes, many a good memory were made here. And, yes, I am sure it is true that many a bastard were as well." He smiled as he looked to the old man seated across from him.

    As their eyes met, however, Nathaniel's widened in shock. "Certainly not." He said, his voice disbelieving. "Is this, per chance, Sir Chance?"

    Korinaton's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Sire?" He even removed his gaze from his scanning for a moment.

    "The gambler, Dylan I believe, but we all knew him as Sir Chance. Do you not, kind sir, remember me? We sailed together aboard Fair Isabelle. It was my first time to sea as a sailor. My you've gotten old." Shocked, but not displeased, Nathaniel reflected upon how small the world could seem.

    TAG: @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh @Mitth_Fisto @spycoder9
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  11. JediMasterAnne Jedi Master

    OOC: Combined post between me and trimaj

    IC: Safia and Desmond Rolmar
    The Stone Tower

    At first, she was somewhat surprised when her father pulled her away from the table, but as he led her into his study, she began to grow nervous. Whatever he had to say, clearly it troubled him enough that he did not wish to say it at the table. And that troubled her.

    Once they reached her father’s study, Safia silently moved to one of the chairs while her father helped himself to a drink. He offered her one as well, also surprising, but she shook her head. “No, thank you, Father.”

    She waited a few moments, but when he did not immediately speak up, she could no longer hold her silence. “Father, what is going on that I do not know? What are you not telling me?”

    Sighing heavily Desmond downed his drink and turned around. At the very least I owe looking her in the eye when I tell her. Unlike his daughter he did not sit, he was too restless. Still, he managed not to pace. "Daughter... Safia, do you understand why I can't allow you to marry Mattheus?" This had to be cleared up before anything else could be done. She had to understand. He knew that she understood what her duty was, but if she would do it was another matter. Especially with the spectre of Fenton's son still hanging over their heads.

    Safia almost glared at him, but somehow restrained the expression. “I know that you do not approve of his father’s methods, or of Fenton in general. And I can understand why you would not wish me so deep within his web of influence.” And the fact that your secession from Mirwyth has placed Matheus and me on opposing sides of the battle lines does not help.

    “But understanding and accepting are not the same thing, Father. Understanding your decision…” Her voice softened, and she finally had to tear her gaze from his. “Does not make accepting it any easier.”

    The moment she mentioned Fenton's methods Desmond started shaking his head. She still does not understand. Had she actually talked to me instead of closing herself off into her room, maybe... But that is irrelevant. When she finished he could tell exactly how much she cared for Mattheus, and that only made what he was going to have to do even harder. At least he could finally soften what had happened with the betrothal to Matheus. Some. "No. You do not understand. Despite what you may think of me I do not place my ambition over your happiness." He waited until she looked up again and held her gaze, his voice soft. "I feared for your life Safia. That is why I called of the match. Why do I disapprove of Fenton's ways? Because the man is a brute, and does not care if he kills women or children. He wanted you for a hostage, and that became far more clear when he started demanding, not requesting but demanding sons and daughters of other Houses be sent to him as wards. How could I knowingly send you into that kind of situation? For all of your love for Mattheus, I love you equally." Bowing his head, "I could not do it. Even if you hate me for the rest of your days, I could not do it. I have se-" He cut himself off. No. I will not mention those things. He turned away and stood by a window, obviously troubled by memories of things he had seen.

    Safia had no response. Clearly, then, she did not understand as much as she thought she had. If anything, now she was even more confused. If he had feared for her so, why had he agreed to the match in the first place? Had he not seen then what Fenton was? And why allow the courtship to last so long that she had actually had time to fall in love with Matheus?

    Though she was feeling scathed, she dared not voice those thoughts. Her father was already agitated enough without her getting him further riled up. Instead, she reverted to her original question. “Father, please tell me what this is all about. Whatever that woman is here for, it has to do with me, doesn’t it?”

    "Yes." He looked away from the window after. "Mors Santagar and Ginnifer Kildare have suggested an alliance, to be sealed by marriage between you and their most favored knight, since King Santagar does not have a son of an age to be married. And... he probably never will be. To my knowledge King Santagar is also not seeking a new wife." He paused for a moment, before continuing, trying to cast things in a better light than they were. "Lawrence Kildare is a good man, and beloved of their people and their king." He looked at the ground. She is the only person that has ever made me this uncertain. "This isn't precisely what I would wish for you. But given... everything, I do not know what else to do." While not strictly the truth, it was true enough. She will hate me for this. But there was nothing that he could do about it now.

    That…was not what she had expected to hear. Nor was it what she wanted to hear. Not three months since the end of her engagement to Matheus, and her father was suggesting another arranged marriage? And from the way he talked, it sounded as though he had already accepted. Without telling her. Not so much as a warning. He couldn’t even look at her as he told her.

    Safia knew that once her father had made up his mind on such matters, she was left with little choice but to follow through, but she could not see how he could possibly ask this of her. Given more time, perhaps this news would not have hurt so much, but now…

    She sat there in shocked silence for several long moments, not bothering to wipe away the tears that slipped across her face. She didn’t know what to say. There was no point asking why—she knew perfectly well that it was a political move, intended to strengthen relations between the desert lands and the mountain regions. Nothing more.

    How long did she have? She and Matheus had had plenty of time to get to know each other—somehow, she did not think she would be granted that luxury again. Finally she looked to her father, who still would not face her. “When will this…this marriage take place?”

    After studying the marble of his floor, a muted brown on white, he looked up. The tears on her face tore at him, but he could not wipe them away. She wouldn't let him, not when he was the cause of such pain. At least she isn't fighting. That would have made this far harder. "Three weeks. He should be here in less than that, so at least you can get to know him a little before. It's the best that I could do. I would rather you had years, but..." he shook his head. My d'ruthers mean nothing. They never do in the long run. Only what I can make happen, and when dealing with other houses, other kings, that is far less than I would like. That was why he manipulated situations as well as he was able, which was normally better than this one.

    He took a step towards Safia, hand outstretched, before stopping and his hand dropped slowly to his side. "I wish that politics did not have to play a part in your life, Safia. But you might be able to be happy, some day. Your mother and I never even met before our wedding day, and..." A tear slid down his cheek, and mingled with his beard. "I wish you could have met her. You look so alike."

    Rubbing his eyes, to clear both them and his mind, he said, "I'm sorry." There was little else for him to say. Oddly, Desmond found himself almost wishing that his daughter would get angry, would fight, but if she hadn't already it seemed highly unlikely that she would. But showing some spirit, anything, after the last three months would have been an improvement.

    Three weeks. She had three weeks, before she would find herself bound, for the rest of her life, to a man she barely knew. Her father's words regarding his own relationship with her late mother gave her some hope--she knew how much her father had loved her mother. But on the other hand, Safia found herself thinking of her aunt Kalera, her father's sister, trapped in a loveless marriage. That was not what she wanted for herself, but at the same time...how could she bring herself to love again, after she had been so hurt the first time around?

    She didn't know how to answer that question.

    At last wiping her face, she looked once again to her father. "Is there anything else I should know, or may I be excused?"

    Desmond looked at his daughter for several seconds, before asking something he knew would keep him awake for months, maybe even years, if he didn't get an answer. "Safia... do you hate me for this? Be completely honest with me." I can only hope. He could not read her mind, he had not been able to read what thoughts had been going through her mind, but he did know that she was not happy. If only she can keep from becoming a bitter woman. I wish I could tell her that everything is going work out, but I can't explain what's going to happen to her. I can't. It might make her happy to know that he did have plans, but she would likely only curse him for including her in them.

    The question shocked her, and it was clear on her face. How such a thought could have entered his mind, she could not begin to fathom. Though she had not been happy these past weeks, she knew that he had his reasons, though she might not fully understand those reasons. "No, Father," she answered, shaking her head. "I may not always agree with your decisions, but I could never hate you for them."

    From the look on her face Desmond knew immediately that she didn't, but hearing her say it was still a relief. He nodded, then moved over to her and knelt so that their eye level was even. "I am sorry Safia. Would that I could have ensured your happiness forever, but life has a way of taking the best of intentions and destroying them. I pray that you do not have to learn that lesson too harshly." Taking her hand, he kissed the back of it gently. "I love you daughter." I wish I could have kept you here, safe and happy forever. But everyone grows up.

    She nodded in quiet understanding, even managing a small smile for him. "I love you, too, Father." She meant it, too. "If there's nothing else, may I return to dinner?"

    Grateful for the smile, he nodded. "Go. I think I am going to remain here. I find I don't have much appetite anymore." He rose, and offered her a hand up.

    Safia nodded again, allowing him to help her to her feet, before quietly heading out of the room.

    Watching her go, Desmond felt anger seize him. That I would have to include my daughter in this... He walked over to his writing desk and seized the inkwell. Heads will roll for this. In one smooth motion he turned and flung the glass vessel at the wall opposite. He watched as the ink exploded over the white marble of the wall and ran down the wall to puddle on the floor. It would be hell for the servants to clean, but for the moment he didn't care. Desmond truly hated not being in complete control of a situation.

    Closing the door behind her, she started to go back towards the dining hall, but a moment later, she stopped in her tracks as she heard a sound from inside the solar--like something shattering against a wall. Turning back, she paused just outside the door. "Father?"

    The temptation to remain silent was great, and he almost didn't resist it. But he was unsure what to say considering he had not waited quite long enough. I have to learn to control my temper better. It had gotten him into trouble in the past, and likely would again. "Yes, Safia? What is it?"

    "Is everything all right?" she asked through the door.

    He found himself looking back at the ink, and then at the broken glass. That was a gift from Nathaniel... Shaking his head to clear it, "I..." Can I really tell her no? He decided that no, he could not. "Everything is fine. Go enjoy dinner." The trails of ink would leave stains. A likely irritating reminder for years to come.

    Safia hesitated for a moment, before nodding once more. "All right," she said, before turning away and heading back to the dining hall.

    TAG: @spycoder9
    Trieste and trimaj like this.
  12. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Knighting Hall


    “Ew, get married?” Little Rosa wrinkled her nose up. “I’m not getting married.”

    She laughed a little, and then looked to her side. Evony Harrowmont stood beside them, arms crossed.

    “Married? What man would want to marry a bastard? And an ugly one, at that?” Evony placed a hand on Rosa’s shoulder before looking to Malik. “Quit filling her mind with foolish thoughts. You know the life of a bastard. Are you married? No. Look, child.” Evony got down to her level, and held the girl’s head so it could look at Malik. “This is what happens to bastards. They work their whole lives, and then leave the world as they came.”

    She stood, looking directly at Malik.

    “Hated by everyone.”

    Then she spun Rosa around and pushed her towards the door. Malik could hear her words as she left.

    “Be glad I even invited you to this. You take privileges and mess them up. You deserve a lashing, but Lord Harrowmont would never allow it. And you know. . .”

    Her voice faded away.

    A hand rested on Malik’s shoulder.

    “You didn’t have to come, son.” Jowan’s voice was still as strong as it had been in Malik’s childhood. “I would’ve understood. Evony might not of, but most of the time her opinion really doesn’t matter to me. Like a bug buzzing in my ear.”

    Jowan smirked.

    “I have another prospect. Caethrene Gideon. Pretty girl. Smart, too. And she hasn’t lost her maidenhood, yet. I know you continue to tell me you want to settle down and live a peaceful life. Live a peaceful life with this Gideon girl. Have a son, or a daughter, or both.” He put his hands on Malik’s shoulders.

    “I want to see you happy.”

    TAG: @Livi-Wan
  13. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager


    Name: Hlaine Gideon
    Age: 31
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: [IMG]
    Homeland: The Mountains
    King: Undeclared
    Occupation: Baron
    Family Banner: a dagger resting upon an open book on a red field
    House Words: Progress demands Sacrifice
    Biography: The Baron Hlaine Gideon is head of a minor household in the divided kingdom, but it was not always so. Once, the name of Gideon was a true force to be reckoned with, and once their barony was a grand office with decorum and purpose to rival the king. Things changed, though, and as time waned, the Barons of Gideon became more reputable for their learning and diplomacy. A Gideon has always been available to give sound counsel to those who would listen - until now.

    Hlaine Gideon was born in the Mountains, the son of Eszrah Gideon. His childhood was filled with weapons training, book learning and etiquette. In his youth, Gideon acted as squire to his older brother, Ioan, in a well-remembered tournament. Hlaine Gideon gained a reputation as a well-educated and quick-witted young man. This reputation has stuck to this day.

    Still a bachelor, Hlaine Gideon has certainly caught the eye of many young women, and their fathers - who would not want the Baron Gideon as a son-in-law? Hlaine has little time for this, though - he has plans within plans for the kingdom of Mirwyth. Gideon remains an unknown - ostensibly he is loyal to the rightful king, but it is rapidly becoming clear regardless of the King's name, the lands will suffer.

    And that must be stopped, no matter the cost.
  14. Livi-Wan Jedi Knight

    Malik Stone
    Knighting Hall

    Malik felt the bottom drop out of his stomach at his father's words.

    "A.. a wife?" he managed, hoping that he didn't sound as sick as he felt. You see, for all his protestations for wanting a quiet life, Malik had always wanted to spend that that life alone. What hope could there be for the children of a bastard? They'd always grow up with that same strange status Malik had, never quite common, never quite noble. And while they might be one step removed- no, he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

    However, it would be an escape. Malik would no longer have to live with the Harrowmont family. And that, perhaps, was worth anything.

    "Thank you." he muttered, his mouth dry. "As my father wishes."

    TAG: @spycoder9
  15. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Prairies of Mirwyth

    Near Village Center

    “I serve V’hallar. He lights my way with his eternal glory.” She raised her arms to the sky, closing her eyes. Lawrence would know that V’hallar was the god of the sun, and pretty much the god that desert people prayed to, if they prayed to one at all. “He has gifted me with an eye into the future. Only glimpses to be interpreted as well as the common person can.”

    She bowed her head for several seconds. Their little stroll brought them past the long meadows and into a wooded area. Sparse trees, and easily navigable trails, but a wood nevertheless. The trees were few and far between by the time they passed by the little village center, where some men were using loud voices.

    “Give us yer food. . .” Some man in broken dialect seemed to say. And then a few scuffing sounds, a maiden’s shriek, and another man talked. Then the sounds of someone being pushing, and the squelch of mud. Shouts, running sounds. And then, in front of Lawrence’s entourage, a group of about dirty outlaws ran by. Swinging assorted weapons wildly, they began to split into different directions. After seven headed north, where a rather large barn sat. People could be seen walking around.

    “Murder. . .these men come to murder. . .” Illza murmured as they passed.

    Ser Rickard kicked his horse so that it rushed up beside Lawrence.


    “We have to follow them, ser. They are outlaws, and they’re heading to that farm to kill and rob.” Rickard unsheathed his sword, a large glinting thing that sparkled under the sun.

    “No. . .no. . .bad things. V’hallar granted me the gift of the eye, and I can see it. Bad. . .don’t go.” She looked wild-eyed at Lawrence.

    “They will kill them, ser. We are knights. What is our purpose, if not to protect the people?” Rickard looked directly towards the barn, and the men who had arrived at the home.

    The Farms

    Anyanka only had moments to sit down from milking the cow when her father rushed into their home.

    “Dammit, Cal, they’re here.” Only one look needed to pass between Anyanka’s parents before her mother snapped into action.

    “Anyanka, take Tomas to the barn. Lisa, get Kerrie and Erin, and hide them in the cellar. Chaerles. . .” None of them seemed to be moving. “Go! All of you, hurry. We don’t have any time to think.”

    Anyanka’s mother pushed her and her brother out the door, and her father led them to the barn.

    “Hide. And don’t ye be comin’ out ‘til me or ye momma come and get ya.” He left them in the barn, and closed the door. A hole in the wood provided both of them with a viewpoint. A viewpoint of the strange, disgusting men who were shouting at her father. Tomas, normally a strong boy, was quivering in his boots as he watched with her.


    Finally, one of the men unsheathed a sword and swung. Their father’s head rolled on the grass as his body fell. Their mother’s screams could be heard, mixed in with the other children’s cries. One of the outlaws exited their home with a torch in each hand. With a snicker, he tossed it on the house. Flames blazed on the roof.

    Tomas began to whimper.

    “Mommy. . .mommy. . .mommy. . .” His soft murmurs continued again and again.

    Village Center

    Beldak’s unexpected launch had knocked Ruugar from his feet. They landed in the mud with a loud splash, and then action went on all around them. Swords flashed everywhere. People were shouting and screaming as Ruugar shoved Beldak off of him with a surprising amount of strength. He rolled over and stood, swinging his sword like a madman.

    “Damn Darkeyes.” The outlaw grinned his toothless grin, pointing his sword to Beldak’s neck. “Looks like I got ye now-”

    One of Beldak’s men came around and with a simple stab sent his sword through Ruugar’s chest. The outlaw collapsed onto the ground with a thud, his face buried in mud. For all the trouble he had caused, he had died rather quickly and simply. When the other men noticed their leader was dead, some chose to stay and fight, but most of the others ran.

    Swords blazing, they screamed things about how they would raze the village to the ground in honor of their leader.

    “Darkeyes,” the man who had saved Beldak shouted. “They’re heading in different directions! Burnin’ houses and killin’ people!” All around them others fought, but the foes grew more and more sparse. Beldak might’ve noticed the maiden who had smiled at him. Now she lay with a slash across her chest, ragged breathe leaking from her lungs. Her eyes gave a last, frightful look before they closed. Beside her lay her attacker, with a bloody dagger in his neck.

    TAG: @Trieste, @Obi Anne, @HanSolo29
  16. PointGiven Jedi Grand Master

    spycoder approved

    Name: Tytos Ashemark
    Age: 30
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: [IMG]
    Homeland: Across the Eastern Sea
    King: The highest bidder of course.
    Occupation: Captain-General of the Silver Swords (mercenary company)
    Company Banner: Two crossed silver swords on a green banner
    Company Words: "No contract broken, no enemy left alive."
    Biography: Tytos was born on the Great Continent across the Eastern Sea. The son of a landless knight, he was adopted by Duke Albion II when his father sacrificed his life for him. He made the mistake of falling in love with the Duke's daughter, Christina and was banished for his trouble at the young age of 14.

    Tytos was forced to seek his own fortune, but he was aided by the skills his father had taught him, his natural charisma, and the meager amount of gold his love had stolen from her father and smuggled to him.. For a time he worked as a mercenary in the Broken Lances, gaining renown as they participated in the numerous wars of the Continent until the leader of the Lances was killed in battle. Many warriors fought for control of the mercenary company, and it was split into thirds; Tytos winning the allegiance of 1,000 sellswords and freeriders at 20 years old.

    Since then, the Silver Swords (whom he named for Albion's coat of arms) have grown to 4,500 hardened warriors. They have fought in the Great Continent to the East, the lands to the West, the frozen north and the southern jungles. Now he has come to Mirwyth to take advantage of the growing chaos. His wants are simple; piles of gold, volunteers for the Silver Swords, and one simple promise. When all is done Tytos intends to sail east to deal with Duke Albion II, and win back Christina.
  17. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    OOC: Can everyone who has an outstanding tag please PM me? But only those that require my help to continue. I need to know all who are waiting on me. :)
  18. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyth
    The Oasis of Dawnsgrace

    Edge of Tombs

    Ghazzan stared at his son-in-law for several seconds.

    Then he laughed and wrapped his arms around the young man. Tears of sadness and joy and just about every emotion flowed down his cheeks and stained the back of Mors, clothes. Finally he broke away.

    “I am glad she spent her last days with you.” Ghazzan wiped away more tears. “Had it been any other man, both I and my grandson would’ve been swept under the rug, buried in the sand, and forgotten about. But I was lucky enough to have you as my son-in-law.” He got down on his knee, wobbly badly as he did so. “Thank you, your Grace.”

    Then he stood and straightened himself.

    “Marry whomever you find worthy. You deserve love in your life. It has been four years. Well enough time for you to pick another woman.” He smoothed his clothing.

    “Only in my daughter’s tomb can I cry so openly as this.”

    TAG: @PointGiven
  19. Ktala Jedi Knight

    **Spycoder seal of approval!** :D

    Name: Lorain Ashkey (Lorel)
    Age: 17
    Gender: Female
    Appearance: A very LARGE girl, at 6 feet, she draws attention. Long brown hair kept
    tightly braided, and grey smokey eyes, she can looks quite feminine when she wants, but
    usually keeps it well hidden. Her body shows the effects of working with hot metals,
    when not covered. Muscular, and very tanned, She is often dressed in tanning leathers,
    with bits of chain to protect herself from the heat she works with. A huge leather apron
    covers her, and high boots, making it even harder to tell she is female. A blue scarf to
    keep away the dust and soot usually completes her normal appearance.
    Homeland: The Desert
    King: None: Whoever pays for the work
    [IMG]IGNORE the costume!!
    ...But the body build.. and attitude hehe ;)

    Occupation: Blacksmith/Weaponsmith
    Family Banner (if applicable, just describe): Symbol - an A large hammer over an Anvil
    House Words (A saying the family uses): A hot flame, and a sure strike.
    Biography:Lorain, called Lorel by her father was his first child. Her parents, (Fendon
    and Murel) loved their child, born in the high mountains. Her mother, was from the
    mountains, and met her father as he came through, plying his trade. As a
    Metalworker/blacksmith, he makes quite a decent living, as his services are always
    needed. For ten years, as Lorain grew, her father noted her size and strength, and for
    ten year, allowed her to study in the trade. It was during this time they moved to the
    land of sand, the desert. Not too long afterwards, her brother Mangus was born. Finally
    glad to have a son, her father let her continue plying the familiy trade, until Mangus
    grew large enough to help, and then started to train him in the family craft.

    Lorain however was not going to stop, simply because her father now trained another. She
    began to developed her own skills, using some of her inventions to help her ply her
    trade. She moved from blacksmith, to weapons making, often sitting back and listening to
    other traders as they passed through their lands, plying them for secrets.

    When not in long dresses, hiding her well muscled body, she is dressed as her father and
    brother, with long leathers, pants and tunics, and blacksmiths apron. Quickly realizing
    that she would never be a 'little blossom', so father taught her to fight, and she can
    take a punch better than most men. Her favorite weapons are twin hammers, that she uses
    in her shop, and are quite hefty. Around the fires, she frequently keeps her face
    wrapped to avoid breathing in the smoke, so most do not realize she is female at first.

    And she likes it that way. It frees her mind to come up with the many designs for
    weapons and other crafts.
  20. HanSolo29 Jedi Master

    IC: Darkeyes
    The Village Square

    For a brute beast with a serious handicap, Ruugar was surprisingly fast and quickly regained his composure from the attack. With a feral growl, the hulking man rose back to his feet and bared his rotten teeth as he staggered forward, gleaming sword in hand. This kind of situation wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for Darkeyes and he was fairly confident in his abilities to turn this around. Now, if he could only reach his staff...

    With one hand still stuck in the mud, he reached around with the other to loose the staff from the sling across his back. He yanked to bring it free...and nothing. A grimace crossed his features as Ruugar continued to lumber ever closer.

    Again, he tried to release the weapon and...still nothing.

    Ruugar was towering over him now, his tall frame completely eclipsing the sun and washing Darkeyes in a sea of shadows. The future was certainly looking very bleak at this point and he was prepared to face it as a man as he elevated his chin and stared at the other man with defiance. He began to utter some curse to damn the man to eternal hell when the tip of a blade suddenly appeared through the center of Ruugar's chest. The man's eyes grew wide with surprise and he took a moment to glance down at the damage before a gurgle issued from his throat and he toppled to the ground in a heap.

    With his veins still pumping full of adrenaline, Darkeyes glanced first at Ruugar's corpse upon the ground before noticing the figure standing behind him. The man was fairly short for his age, with dark hair and a straggly beard that was slowly turning gray. His piercing blue eyes met his own and he thought he saw a hint of relief pass over them. This was Lorn, a loyal companion of Darkeyes for several years and at this particular moment, he was glad to see him.

    "Well, that was a close one," he quipped as if nothing serious had happened, gently brushing himself off as he rose steadily back to his feet. "Let's not do that again." His expression turned serious as he turned to Lorn. "And what the hell took you so long?"

    “Darkeyes,” Lorn started in without preamble. “They’re heading in different directions! Burnin’ houses and killin’ people!”

    Darkeyes frowned at the report as he started to walk through the carnage, not even batting an eye at the young and innocent lying dead in the streets. To him, it was all a necessary evil in order to achieve personal glory. "I did not come here to liberate this village - you of all people should have remembered that." In a fit of anger, he tugged on the staff one last time, this time pulling it free and swinging it diagonally across his chest in front of him. "We achieved what we came here to do, now let's get out of here."

    He brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled, calling his horse to him. Without waiting for a reply, he climbed on. "We ride!" he shouted.

    TAG: @spycoder9

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