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RPF A War of Kings

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

  1. Obi Anne Reg: Nov 98 manager

    IC: Anyanka
    The Farms

    "Stay hidden, stay alive, stay hidden, stay alive", Anyanka repeated her father's words over and over again. The smoke from their burning home made her eyes water, and the stench of burning meat for once didn't make her hungry. "Stay hidden, stay alive". At the moment that was the only thing that mattered, she even put her hand over Tomas' mouth, so that not even his weak voice would be heard on the other side of the barn's walls.

    The flames from the house had started to lick the barn as well. She felt trapped, but if she ran out she was afraid that she would be killed on spot. She hugged Tomas tighter. She wasn't exactly a religioius person, but for the first time in many years she repeated the prayers her mother had said to her by the bedside. Still, stay hidden stay alive. That was the most important thing.

    Tomas started to squeam, he didn't want to stay in the barn but Anyanka put herself over him and tried to sink deeper and deeper into the hay. She could only hope that the men outside wouldn't care to look into the barn.

    tag: @spycoder9
  2. Trieste Jedi Grand Master

    IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
    Dragonwood – Near Village Center

    Lawrence did the first thing anyone should do when combat approached: stop.

    For all his nobility, Rickard was prone to the easy mistake of rushing into a situation without getting even a partial grasp of it. Doing so was a great way to walk stomach first into a pike. However, that didn’t mean that Lawrence dithered in his assessment of events, especially as the prima facieinterpretation appeared to be correct. Illiza with whatever divine insight she had even agreed: the unarmed were being preyed upon by lawless elements.

    “We are no longer in the Desert,” Lawrence said, putting a hand on Rickard’s breastplate to subtly restrain him, “We lack authority here…but we are on the border of the Desert and the Mountains. It seems an appropriate place to show a token of friendship to King Desmond.”

    He drew his scimitar from its sheath and turned to face the clearly disturbed priestess. “Bad things are happening already. If V’hallar would have instruments of his justice sit by at the sight of oppression, he is not worth your devotion or mine.”

    And with that Lawrence spurred his mount on towards the farm, doubtless with Rickard not far behind. Ser Lawrence was not a man for war whoops. He had a feeling Ser Rickard was. And so, Lawrence plunged into battle for people who he had never met. But that was the cause he had taken up when he had pledged himself to life as a knight. With keffiyeh streaming behind him, Lawrence selected his first target and lowered his sword to slice him in passing. Such was the advantage of cavalry against foot soldiers.

    Tag: @spycoder9
  3. Jedi_Padawan_Leigh Jedi Knight

    IC: Gwenn Cliffe
    “The Bloody Breeze”

    "Oh, please, get up. I'm only here for a drink."

    The king moved past Gwenn’s kneeling form and pulled up a chair at the table. Quickly standing back up, she suddenly felt a little foolish. Her eyes fell upon the face of Cold-eyes. His expression said it all. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing either. The king took a seat and leant back, his demeanour calm and relaxed as he took in the scene around him. His companion didn’t seem to share the kings attitude however, and was very visibly tense as he stood behind him, eyeing his surroundings like a hawk. The bar keep nudged past Gwenn, holding a mug of ale and placed it down before him. Again, the king waved off the formalities. The mans eyes went almost as wide as saucers as he then handed over a pouch of coins. Nodding gratefully before quickly spiriting the money somewhere safe. The stunned silence that had gripped the room slowly dissipated and a few cheers went up at the news of free rounds of drinks. Again the worried man tried to reason with his grace, citing concerns for his safety. but it seemed that no-body could tell the King of the Isles what to do when he set his mind to something. Ignoring the protests for now, he turned his attentions back to those who had gathered around him. She finally looked at him. His hair was greying, and his face was aging, but he still carried himself with such a strong and confident presence. He also had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he spoke.

    "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 looked at the old drunk man across from him, but his eyes then widened in shock "Certainly not." He said, his voice disbelieving. "Is this, per chance, Sir Chance?" The kings companion seemed surprised by this. Incredulous, his brow narrowed. "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

    Gwenn quirked an eyebrow at this revelation and cold-eyes couldn‘t help crack a smile at Dylan’s expense. “How did he go from serving with the Delmari families prestigious fleet to working at the docks?” She wondered. For an island nation, boats and ships were linked to everything. Trade and commerce, defence, their only means to get to and from the mainland. But to an islander, a ship could also mean freedom. She could see why the call of the seas could be hard to resist. Adventure, exotic lands, the freedom to go wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Maybe that was where her father was, sailing the furthest reaches of the world, fuelled only by wind, sea spray and a thirst for adventure. A romantic notion perhaps, but then again she knew nothing about the man, only that her mother once told her that he had been a sailor. And that is all she had ever told her, despite Gwenn’s insistence on wanting to know more. She often wondered if he was even still alive. After all, a sailors life could be both thrilling and dangerous in equal measure. She finally regained enough of her composure to find her voice once more, but she still felt a little awkward to be addressing a king. She couldn’t even address the members of the Moorecroft family with such ease

    “Do ya…miss it, yer grace? Serving with the fleet, I mean…”

    TAG: @Chukles38 @Mitth_Fisto @spycoder9
  4. Chukles38 Jedi Master

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

    Did he miss it? How could Nathaniel answer that? Words weren't enough to describe his longing to return to the sea. It was a need, something that drew him. Perhaps it was no more than longing for the carefree days of his youth. He couldn't tell. In the end, he decided on a drawn out sigh and a mournful response. "Every day, my girl. Every day." A ghost of his former smile lit his face as he met her gaze. Something strange happened then, inexplicable in it suddenness. She reminded him of someone he'd thought often of, once upon a time, but had not recalled in many years. Perhaps it was this place. Strange, how it all comes full circle.

    "My King?" Korianton asked, laying a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. His voice was laced with concern, and Nathaniel couldn't help but smile up at him.

    "You, my boy, look so much like your father." His gaze grew distant. For a moment, he seemed more his years than ever before. "Wait, my friends," He now addressed the whole table, "Until you grow old. Memories haunt you like phantoms. Some are happy, some sad." A chuckle rolled through the old king's body. "And so many good memories I have. Swashbuckling with pirates. Risking storms. I've even had my hand in smuggling." He leaned over, near-whispering to those at the table. "Would you like to hear one of these memories? Happened right here in The Bloody Breeze." He looked around the table, waiting for an answer.

    TAG: @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh @Mitth_Fisto @spycoder9
  5. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyrth


    The Docks

    The city of Caraba had received an influx of people from many different parts of the world since word had began to travel of a split kingdom. Ambassadors came to recruit people to their lands. Merchants came to sell overpriced weapons. And some men came to work. They chose their king, did a little side work for him, and then switched up. It became happen place, and after word reached other kingdoms, more and more men arrived. And the dirtier and crueler they got.

    Dragged along by her father, Lorain Ashkey brushed past different men and women of many cultures. Pale men mixed with those that were dark, and lusty women walked alongside women in high collared shirts with a banner emblazoned on the back of her robes. Though they lived a little bit away from Caraba, Lorain’s father Fendon needed some special materials for new swords. A powerful House of the mountains, the Gideon’s needed several swords to arm their castle. A war was coming, that much was obvious to everyone. And no one, not even the Ashkey’s, were safe.

    “Lori,” Her father shouted at her as they walked through the crowd. “I’m gonna grab some grub from one of these little bars. Can you go wait by the harbor and look for the ship, ‘till I get there?” Without waiting on a reply, he smiled and nodded his head. “Thanks. I’ll get you something too.”

    And then he was gone. Leaving Lorain standing in a crowd of people. She was a little bit taller than most people there, and could see the salty sea was not that far ahead down the crowded streets. Many ships were docked there, but the ship they waited on was called, Caetlyn’s Wrath. Or was it Caetlyn’s Voyage? Or did it even mention Caetlyn? Her father had the same problem remembering the name, but promised her they’d be able to find it.

    As soon as Lorain arrived on the harbor, overlooking all the might ships, she might notice a huge warship approaching the docks. And written across them was Christina’s Wrath. A coincidence?

    Christina's Wrath, Near the Harbor

    There were many men onboard Christina’s Wrath, though they all looked to one man for leadership. At the moment, this man stood on the deck, watching the approaching coast of Caraba, an ugly city in all honesty. Large, and sprawling, but ugly. Perhaps it had come from all the new residents, or the people had neglected the up-keep, but no matter what, it was rather nasty.

    Captain-General Ashemark!” One of the men on the deck hollered to him. “General Tytos!” The men left his spot and ran over to the leader on the deck. Huffing and puffing, he tried to speak. “Are we to. . .commence. . .attack on. . .arrival?” Even through his heavy sighing, the general would know what he spoke of.

    After much deliberation, a decision had been made. Two of the ships of Tytos’s had held back, and were staying without of sight of the city. Tytos’s main ship would coast into the city, and all the sellswords onboard would unload. They were to invade the harbor, snatching up men of the rightful age and size of slavery or service. Then, they would slash there way to the gold, which was rumored not to be guarded well. After stealing the money and the men, they would withdraw.

    Mainly, this was a spiteful act. Many of the sellswords working for Tytos had been scorned in Caraba after the invasion of pirates some time ago. They had been banished from the town, and from Mirwyth, for doing nothing.

    And from the looks of it, Caraba was very poorly defended. No walls surrounding it, and not many people walking around with swords. It was ripe for the picking. And once they were finished with it, they could resume their former task. Getting to know the kings and becoming employed to many of them at once, if possible. It wouldn’t be that hard to accomplish.

    TAG: @Ktala, @PointGiven
  6. PointGiven Jedi Grand Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyth
    The Oasis of Dawnsgrace
    The White Palace

    "I do not know if I will ever be able to love another as much as Arbela." The Desert King answered.

    Mors smiled at his father-in-law. He had always been fond of the man. Ghazzan had talked Arbela over her initial reluctance to their betrothal. Certainly it had been for the honor of marrying a membef of the Santagar dynasty, just as his original intentions were to get a good portion of the Gerhud gold. Yet, despite all odds and convention, Mors and Arbela had actually grown to love each other...and he and Ghazzan had grown to be great friends.

    "You should indulge yourself in crying beyond the tombs," Mors joked as they walked out the entrance. "It would certainly humanize you."

    Ghazzan chuckled heartily. "My workers would ask who was impersonating me!" It was well known that Ghazzan showed no emotion when it came to the caravan business. In public was as cold blooded as the snakes and scorpions that roamed the deserts and decorated the Santagar banner. In private, he was like any other man who had lost his wife and daughter.

    The two walked across the dusty courtyard that separated the crypts from the rising bulk of white marble under construction.

    "Dameros is on the east wing of the ground floor," Mors said as they walked toward the upcoming new palace. He withdrew a small wooden flute from his cloak, expertly carved and adorned with silver rings.

    "His nameday present," he explained. His father-in-law laughed.

    "It seems that great minds think alike," he said as he produced a near identical copy of the flute. "I bought it from Asterios's in the market."

    "Same here," said Mors, grinning in response. "It looks like he will have a matching set then."

    "I'm surprised that you do not have any personal servants to do your shopping," said Ghazzan as they walked into the wide foyer. "It doesn't seem...kingly." It was a relief from the hot sun; the caravan merchant placed a hand on the cool marble as they walked up the staircase.

    "I am not used to this monarchy business," Mors admitted. "Besides the sea traders say the King of the Isles is prone to socializing with his people, and I am not that different from Delmari."

    "Pah!" Ghazzan snorted. "Damn islanders with their oceans. A man needs a solid grounding on land, in the sands of the desert and the beauty of the palm trees."

    "I won't argue with that," the King agreed.

    The door to Dameros's chamber opened as they reached it. A nurse walked out, tiptoeing silently.

    "He's sleeping," she whispered. "It took forever to calm him down."

    "We'll leave him be until later," Mors said. "For now, I think we should adjourn to the Council room, my new Master of Coin."

    "Oh, we're starting already?"

    "You're the only Council member I have at the moment, Ghazzan," said the Desert King. "I offered Darius Osmios the position of Hand, but he's running a favor for me in Caraba."

    "But what's so important that only I can help with?" Ghazzan asked confusedly.

    "Why the matter of my new bride of course," Mors answered. "I need your advice; who will help my cause and my kingdom."

    "But I am only the Master of Coin."

    "Then I'll ask you as my father in law."

    TAG: @spycoder9
  7. Mitth_Fisto Jedi Grand Master

    Abott Tuckman
    The Bloody Breeze

    As his royal appointedness sat at their table, well was it his really? He had merely sat down moments prior to the king. Yes, yes it was his table, possession was a large part of ownership as the rebelious kings were claiming. They possessed the land, they would rule it for the good of the people. Considering the menu and lack thereof he had to say they were not doing such a fine job of things. Although with the king here he wouldn't be surprised if the resident owner surprisingly came out with better viddles then currently offered in hopes of another bag of gold. Which the weasle had ferreted off with already. Predictable, safe and predictable.

    Of course he was still waiting for his drink as the peasantry acquessed to the kings presence, and the gentry stood guard like a sentinel. Finally the Bar Maid arrived and he was helping her unload her tray to those present that didn't warrant owner service at the table. Personally he preffered it that way, the owner was not good for his eyes, although the young woman might of enjoyed it he highly doubted it. From the way she dressed it might be possible she was as nearly one of the men as one could be without proper birthing accidents.

    Still when he saw the drink with the now empty paper set down in front of the previously loud man who had forced the new presence upon them all by his loud mouth, he nearly grinned then stumbled over himself as the King remarked recognition of the man. Hurridly he replaced the with his from the tray and put that one in front of him. Quickly snagging the edge of the tray he started motioning for the woman to draw near. As she finally did, what was it gentry and the varying of the local populaces speeds? They either made things quicker or slower, yet never at the same pace with their presence. This king was bogging things down, no matter how much the throngs cheered for a few free pints.

    Whispering in her ear quickly and quietly he kept two solid fingers on his very special vessel of spirits. Or at the one he believed to be his very special vessel of spirits. "I will need a fruit, a tart one, ground potato, and a dash of every spice you got. Oh and a fresh spirit. I suddenly don't think this one will go over so well. King'ies tab."

    Leaning back he looked at her then over as the king seemed to be asking them all a question. Looking at the king and then to the statue behind him his hand raised, flip flopped, and finally gestured vaguely in the human statues direction behind the king. "Who can say no to such reflections." Letting out a pained sigh he let his hand drop to the table with a thunk. Boy, at this rate tonight was shaping up to only be a loss. What terrible luck to have come into such a nicely named establishment. Looking back and leaning back toward the bar maid he hoped she would give a positive intonation or something. That and that the loud mouth that had been muted so would not soon find it's voice, although whether that was possible with his present luck he didn't know.

    TAG: @Chukles38 , @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh , @spycoder9
  8. Ktala Jedi Knight

    Lorain Ashkey
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Docks

    Lorain had been happy, when her father had asked he to follow him down to the docks to help him pick up something.. some new metal, he had stated? But now, as they brushed pass the many crowds that were within the city and docks, Lorain began to wonder. It used to be a very nice place, but now it seemed more overcrowded and filthy to her. A price of progress? Also, she wondered why her father had not brought her brother along. Of course, he was busy working on the Forge. Swords were more Lorain's task, but still, it did give her a chance to check out the local market. She didnt come into town too often, she was usually quite busy. Between her own tasks, and helping her mother, she stayed busy, so this trip was a bit of a treat. Her father had hinted that some powerful House of the mountains, needed several swords, so here they were.

    "Lori", her father shouted at her, as they walked through the crowds. "I'm gonna grab some grub from one of these little bars. Can you go wait by the harbor and look for the ship, 'till I get there?" And then, without even waiting for a reply, he turned, smiling and nodding his head. He even offered to grab her some food as well." And then he was gone.

    "Well." Lorain stated softly with a grin. Her father was certainly in a good mood. Perhaps he would make quite a deal of money with this deal. Either way, it left her to task. With a snort, she turned looking until she could see, well the sea. Was not that far at all. She began to walk in the direction of the harbor, as she peered over the heads of the people. She shifted her belt under her cloak, where her hammers hung, swinging gently as she walked, under her tunics. Hmmm. There were many ships there at the docks, she could see once she reached them. She pulled her cloak about her form.

    Now what was the ship they needed? Her father was worse than she, when it came to names of things. Of people who owed her money, she had no trouble with, but since she was not sure of the name her own father gave her, she certainly could not be sure of its title. But her father did tell her that they would be able to recognize it.

    Caetlyn's Wrath? Caetlyn's Voyage? Unsure, Lorain began to look over the ship. There was a HUGE warship, pulling into the harbor, dwarfing all the other ships. It was called Christina's Wrath. Could that be it? If it was a warship, would not it be easier for her father to tell her that? Besides, what warship would be bringing in metal ore? She doubted that might be the ship. But her father had bade her to wait at the harbor. So she waited. She did not approach the incoming ship. She knew she must wait at the outskirts of the harbor, liked he asked, but she did keep an eye on the ship. If they were expecting her father, then they would be looking for someone on the docks. That should be easy enough to spot. Not the shopping trip she envisioned. But at least here, and breeze brought in the sea air, which smelled much better than the smells of the city.

    Lorain waited for both the ship and her father.

    TAG: @Spycoder9
  9. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Dining Hall

    The long hallways were beautiful carved, but had this cold feeling. Nestled in the frosty mountains, with snow falling down on the castle top, all it needed was white stone. And it had that too.

    Once Safia had returned to the dining hall, several knights and guards had left to return to their duties. Her brothers were in a heated discussion above the other diners when Safia entered. Karridan took notice of her and nudged the still passionate Ectarion. The skinnier brother stopped speaking and glanced to the doorway at Safia. He hushed too.

    “I’m guessing you know now?” Karridan asked calmly. The older castlemen who had known the Lady Corrine compared her oldest son to her. They said she was the more calm, reserved, and kind side of the heredity. Ectarion had inherited looks from his mother, and was a rather attractive young man, but his personality was hostile, and rather spiteful.

    “Of course she knows.” Ectarion tapped his fingers on the counter. “And she probably told father no. How could he dare marry her to a desert man? And one not of a royal family? It is almost insulting.”

    “Brother.” Karridan hissed. The messenger woman was sitting near them, staring directly at Ectarion.

    “I can’t see why your father lets you sleep inside the castle. I say, keep the dogs out. They only cause fleas.” The messenger sipped on some of her wine as she spoke.

    “I would rather be a dog than a camel.” Ectarion glared at the woman and then at Karridan. “Safia, please tell me you told him no. You deserve better than that. What about Matheus? Don’t you still love him?”

    “Stop it, brother. Father does allow her to make choices, but if it determines whether our castle is burned to the ground or not, she has to do some things she doesn’t want to.” Karridan looked at his sister. “You may not love this man. You may never. But understand this. Duty is more honorable than passion, sister. Could I of run off and joined Reynard’s army? Of course. But I stayed and served our father faithfully, guarding over you. And you should be able to do the same.”

    “Good god, brother, you and your speeches of honor and duty.” Ectarion rolled his eyes.

    The two brothers were complete opposites. And both seemed positive Safia would choose their side of the coin.

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne
  10. JediMasterAnne Jedi Master

    IC: Safia Rolmar
    The Dining Hall

    She frowned, listening to her brothers bicker back and forth—Ectarion even took a snap at their guest, at one point, which their father would not have tolerated had he been present. Safia cast an apologetic glance to the woman before speaking, with surprising calmness, to her brothers.

    “Karridan’s sense of honor and duty serve him well, Ectarion, and you should not belittle such qualities…” Her voice softened considerably. “Though occasionally being in possession of such qualities can cause one pain.

    “Yes, I know of the proposal put forward by House Kildare, and as Karridan has said, it is not for me to refuse, regardless of my feelings for Matheus.” She did not look at her brothers as she spoke, keeping her eyes lowered so Karridan and Ectarion would not see the tears she was trying not to let fall. And she certainly did not want the messenger to see them. “King Reynard would not accept me as a daughter-in-law now anyway.” She hoped that statement had carried more conviction than what it sounded to her ears.

    “And given the past hostilities between our ancestors and the desert peoples…maybe”—she paused to steady herself—“maybe this alliance will help to ease some of those tensions.”

    She could imagine that her brothers were probably very much surprised that she could speak so easily of something that they knew was hurting her, and she was quite surprised herself, but, knowing that the situation was out of her hands, perhaps speaking of it would help her to be more accepting of what was so soon to happen.

    But to think that in three weeks’ time, she would be married to a man she had not even yet met—it was overwhelming, and more than a little frightening.

    What was she getting into? What sort of man was Ser Lawrence, her husband-to-be? Her father had said that he was held in high regard, and though Safia trusted that her father would not lie to her about such a thing, she wanted more than just his word. Quickly wiping her eyes again, she found her attention turning to the messenger. “Pardon, ma’am, but what can you tell me of Ser Lawrence? My father says he is quite a respected man…?”

    TAG: @spycoder9
  11. afellowjedi Jedi Knight

    IC: Diana
    The Isles of Mirwyth
    The Queen's chambers

    As soon as Diana entered the palace through the servants’ entrance the personal maid of the queen approached her and informed the queen asked for her immediate presence. Diana inwardly groaned, she was tired and wished for rest, but none the less found herself following the maid to the queen’s chambers. Diana paused in front of the door, fixing her trousers and removed her hood, then proceeded to knock. The queen called for her to enter, and Diana walked in closing the door behind her.

    “Come here, Diana.” The Queen called.

    Diana saw the queen on the balcony staring towards the sea. “You wished for my presence your grace?” Diana inquired
    The queen said nothing; Diana was going to repeat herself when at last the queen spoke.

    “Do you see the ocean, my dear? At night, it’s almost magical, is it not?”“Yes milady”, replied Diana, looking out to the far sea.
    “The smells. Salt and freshness. Peace. Tranquility. Much more nice than the mountains, wouldn’t you say?”

    “I’m sorry milady, I could not say.” Diana replied neutrally. She watched as the queen drained the glass of wine she was drinking and then looked at it. Diana stepped back when the queen gave a sudden cry of fury, throwing the glass over the side. Diana faintly heard the glass shatter down 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 breath. Then they shove me back into it. 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.”
    Diana starred at the back of the queen’s head, a frown on her face. “Milady, your husband surely means you no harm. These nightmares will pass in time”

    “I try to get the thoughts from my head. And I was actually doing well. Until I found out I was pregnant last year. Diana raised her eyebrow at this. 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."
    Diana nodded, “that is unfortunate milady.”

    "I am a mountain girl. I was born of House Rolmar, and am a descendant of the first men.” The queen turned to face her. “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.”

    Diana followed the queen as she walked back into her chambers. It was true, most people knew of the king’s wondering eye and many bastard children.

    “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.”

    Diana watched as the queen got another glass of wine. “Milady, I’m afraid you have lost me.”

    “I want you to kill me, child.”

    Diana froze, watching the queen causally take a long sip.
    “Kill you? But milady-”

    “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.” Diana had heard but had actually planned to go to see her brother again. “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.”

    Diana casted aside her etiquette and took a seat at the queen’s vanity, facing the queen “Why are you asking this of me? I am only a lady of the court; a servant to his highness.” Diana said.

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

    You ask a lot milady, I am loyal to his highness and this could be considered treason against him since you are his wife. This, at the very least, violates my agreement to the king. I was hired to take care of threats to the kingdom; those men were threats, planning to murder innocents. But you, milady, and your maid are no threat. Diana paused, “It is late and I am tired, please allow me some time to consider this.”
    ‘And talk to Raven if possible’ she added silently. Diana stood to leave nodding her head in respect, then, as a second thought, she reach in to her satchel and pulled out a small vile and placed it on the vanity, “This will help with the nightmares, two drops to a glass of wine. ” she turned and without waiting for the proper dismissal left the room.

    She finally made it to her apartment in a nearby wing of the palace, it was modest but had a wonderful view of the ocean, and it was finely furnished and well kept. She was better off than some of the other people at court, being the king’s assassin had its perks. It was dark but the light from the moon provided enough light for her to navigate to her bedchambers. The moon seeped through her balcony doors in her bedchamber. She peeled of her clothing and placed it in a pile near the door for her maid to wash in the morning; she slipped into her nightgown and lit a candle. She walked to the balcony and opened the doors letting in the gentle night sea breeze and the calming sound of distance crashing waves into her room. Yes, being in service to the king had its perks. She walked past her vanity, to her desk where she had unloaded her satchel and weapons. Glancing at her nearby bed, she longed to just climb in and sleep, but years of training dictated that she had to resupply and check her tools for tomorrow.
    “Never be unprepared” she recited to herself.
    She methodically went to work, cleaning her sword and knives, replenishing her potions and poisons. Her thoughts drifted to the Queens proposal ‘to say she is dead, to lie to the king. It would hang over my head, I would fear that she’d come back one day and where does that leave me? Dead. But if the queen wants to abandon the kingdom does that make her a threat? ’ A yawn escaped her lips, she was finished finally, she placed her weapons and satchel in the false bottom of her dresser. ‘I have a little time before the wedding to decide, perhaps I should tell raven about this, after all it’s her mother.’ Diana thought to herself as she blew out the light and slid under the covers of her spacious bed, after making a mental note to buy more herbs and poisons, she soon was drifting into a dreamless sleep.

    TAG: @spycoder9,
  12. PointGiven Jedi Grand Master

    Tytos Ashemark
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Harbor

    "That is the same plan we've been working on, Eirik," Tytos answered with a brief roll of his eyes. He had little use for time wasters, especially when there was gold to be won.

    Christina's Wrath sailed into the entrance of the harbor, its wake nearly swamping the fishing boats returning with their day's catch. Tytos smiled to see the larger boats near the docks scramble to avoid the warship. A smart move; he was not about to yield to them.

    His flagship was a veritable monster; 70 guns adorned its sides and it held 900 men. It was the payment he had demanded three years ago in return for destroying the pirate trade across the sea, and it had paid dividends. It was one of three ships that Tytos had on his expedition. He had half of the Silver Swords with him; the other half was on assignment, completing a contract across the sea.

    "Sir?" Eirik asked doubtfully.

    "Something still bothering you?" Tytos replied, gritting his teeth. There were many times he appreciated Eirik's caution, but this was not one of them.

    "I still don't understand how this will help us," he said hesitantly. "We want to gauge which King will hire us, but raiding Caraba is only going to anger the Santagar King and reduce our options."

    Tytos looked at the docks, which were now teeming with dockhands, ready to receive the ship. He could almost taste the tension; there hadn't been a warship in Caraba for a long time.

    "I never intended to work for Santagar," the mercenary captain replied with ice in his voice. "His father broke his promise to help me revenge myself on Albion, even though I got rid of his bloody father for him. I have no intention of helping Dameros's son now."


    "There are three other kings, Eirik. And we know Fenton will certainly look on us with pleasure for this."

    "But what about the Isles and the Mountains? Aren't they working with the Desert to overthrow Fenton?"

    "For now, perhaps," Tytos admitted. "But even if they win, the realm won't support three kings for long. They will all be at each other's throats eventually. The Mountain people have no love for the Desert. Though Rolmar or Delmari might condemn us publicly, I won't be surprised if they send out offers for us soon."

    Tytos was spared another question by the sound of the warship docking. The gangway dropped and a few of his men hurried down, tying the ropes themselves and refusing to let any of the nearby dockhands help. It was part of the plan; they would need to make a quick getaway, after all.

    Tytos marched down the gangway onto shore. Up in the rigging, down in the hold and secreted across the ship were the sellswords who would soon take the city by storm. His eyes scanned the harbor. He had made some contacts with people in the city; people who knew the outline of the city and where the magistrate's treasure vault was located. Yes, there was Aneez and Yunak by the dock entrance but there was supposed to be a third...Fenton, or Fendon, he couldn't quite remember the name except that it was near to the Mirwyth King's own.

    A fat sweaty old man hurried up to the mercenary captain. Tytos took one look at him; but it was clearly not the third man.

    "I am the harbor master of Caraba," he announced. "What's the meaning of this?"

    "Of what?" Tytos answered

    "Your ship just barged into our harbor without declaring yourselves or any cargo you carry!" he exclaimed. "We have a system for trading ships that has been in use for years; you can't just show up and be let in!"

    Tytos snorted. "Funny, the other ships didn't seem to mind when we came in. In fact, they cleared a path for us."

    "No ship is going to get in the way of a war galleon," the harbor master answered. "But here on land we do things differently!"

    Tytos took a long look at the man. Though the man was still out of breath from his jog over, but the glint in his eyes and steel in his voice impressed the Captain-General.

    "You have a stout heart old man," he said approvingly. "Most people grovel and beg when they see Christina's Wrath, but you don't seem fazed at all. We could use a man like you in the Silver Swords."

    "Fortunately I have a more honorable line of work," the harbor master replied haughtily.

    "Not for much longer."

    A metal screech rent the air as Tytos drew his sword and held it to the harbor master's neck. In answer, the crash of scores of makeshift gangways hit the docks as the hidden sellswords rose up. Scores of sellswords ran down each gangway and many more were now swinging down ropes onto land. As they hit the docks they drew their blades, grins of malice on all their faces. The harbor master's eyes widened. Tytos grinned.

    "Welcome to the Silver Swords, harbor master."

    TAG: @spycoder9 @Ktala
  13. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Baron's Chambers

    The girl’s screams woke Hlaine Gideon was from his sleep.


    The whole castle could hear her cries of terror. Caethrene Gideon, a second cousin of Hlaine, had been haunted for weeks now by nightmares. She was a very pretty girl, with dark brown curls that ran down her back. And her mind was a sharp as whip. She was one of the prodigies of the house, and that might’ve been a good thing to some, but not to the Baron. Her father had mentioned that perhaps she should become the queen after the Baron himself died. First queen of the house ever. And that was something that would not go down with any of the other members of the house. So, some people had suggested she be wedded to the bastard son of Jowan Harrowmont. Really it came down to the Baron’s decision though.

    And right now, her screams were waking him up. The elderly nurse had given her many different herbs, and tried a multitude of things. Still, everyone lost sleep.

    Normally, she just cried out for her father. But tonight, she was screaming Hlaine’s name. Screaming it at the top of her lungs. And something was strange about it.

    “Hlaine!” She shrieked. “Baron! PLEASE! They’re coming! They are COMING! PLEASE! Baron, PLEASE!”

    TAG: @Penguinator
  14. Ktala Jedi Knight

    Lorain Ashkey
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Harbor

    Lorain continued to watch as the huge warship came into the harbor. It wake hausing a handful of fishing boars to quickly scurry out of its way, or risk becoming sunk. The ship certainly seemed to be in some sort of hurry. Could it be the ship her father waited upon? Her father certainly had enough connections to know someone who worked upon such a ship..though it was unusual to see such a ship here in Caraba. The docks were not built for such things. Ah well, it was an amusing thought, as she watched the huge ship sail in.

    The ship quickly docked. The crew was quite well trained. The gangway dropped and a few of his men hurried down, tying the ropes themselves and refusing to let any of the nearby dockhands help. Poor dock crew was probably just trying to earn a few coins in their pockets. Lorain scanned the area of the marketplace. Where WAS her father? She would like to be finished with this bit of work, and get back to her own.

    Lorain leaned against one of the many pole that the harbor was built upon, and looked back out towards the harbor. By now, she noticed two other men waiting around as well, it seemed. Perhaps she was not the only one waiting for a ship.

    Soon angry voices drifted across the harbor. Lorain didnt pay it much noticed. She vaguely knew the large man who was fussing. The Harbor master. She had seen him from time to time, when she came to town. Usually at the tavern. Obviously he was not happy with the new ship. She chuckled softly.

    It wasnt until Lorain her another sound she knew very well, that made her turn her head back towards the docks. Metal on metal. As she snapped her head about, she saw heard the crash, as scores of makeshift gangways hit the docks, and men with swords rose up. Scores of men ran down each gangway, while other swung from ropes onto the harbor. The man the harbor master had been arguing with, now had a sword to the other man's neck.
    As the strange men reached the docks, they drew their blades...

    Lorain could not believe what she saw...She moved quickly, as she back peddled away from the docks, heading for the harbor entrance. There was a huge bell there.

    "INVADERS!" she called out in a booming voice to warn the other dockhands as she moved swiftly. "The Harbor is under attack!" She then ducked down, and ran for the entrance. Obviously, business would have to wait. She was NOT sticking around. She had heard stories about such things, and she was interested in finding out if such stories were true.

    TAG: @spycoder9 @PointGiven
  15. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Lord's Chambers

    Jowan nodded at his son, understanding exactly what he was going through.

    “Listen, Malik.” His eyes went glassy as he faded back to his memories. “We need to talk about several things. Now, actually.”

    He strode down the hallways, passing by several people on their way to his chambers. Jowan nodded at them, but was ignorant for the most part. His mind continued to replay something. . .the past, maybe. When they found the chambers and opened the doors, Jowan poured his son a glass of wine with a shaky hand. After letting him sit down on the balcony, he sat in front of him and gulped down a whole glass of dreamberry wine. Some of the best, but perhaps not as good as the citrus kind.

    “You remember everything I’ve told you, do you not? I found you in the deserts, brought you in as my bastard, same old, same old.” He frowned. “I left out some details. And, I mean, you’re 23. It’s only rightful you know. . .the true details.”

    Jowan walked back into his chambers and shuffled around. Finally he came back with an old painting of a beautiful woman.


    “Here is your mother.” He handed the rather large picture to Malik as he let his words sink in. “And I did know her. She was my lover. I had this crafted for her before. . .”

    He trailed off.

    TAG: @Livi-Wan
  16. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Isles of Mirwyth

    The Bloody Breeze Tavern

    “A story?”

    The old man leaned over the table before howling backwards in laughter again.

    “Dammit, the king ‘imself comes to see us, and he wants to tell us a tale.” After his bout of laughter ended, he slammed his empty cup down on the table for more. A bar maid scurried over and filled it up. She then went over to Abott, leaning over to put some food in front of him. Didn’t look delicious, but at least it was edible. While she arranged the plate into front of him, she whispered in his ear.


    “Name’s Ilayne. Have any handsome sons?” Probably not the most polite thing to say, but this girl’s wit was near none, and most people took Abott to be much older than he actually was.

    The elderly man took a chug of his drink and then turned to the king.

    “Remember you, yes I do. Handsome lad, caught all the ladies’ eyes. Bedded a wench first night I metcha. Second night you had three right in row. Couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Looked like one of ‘em was a highborn lady or somethin’.” He laughed some more. “Tell me some stories. Tonight’s te night fer tales.”

    TAG: @Chukles38, @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh, @Mitth_Fisto
  17. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Prairies of Mirwyth

    The Farms

    The flames licked the sides of the barn. And the wood ignited. Crackling noises started to get louder, even louder than those of the men warring outside the barn. And the flames, once they reached they roof, spread quickly. Tomas yelped, pointing to the roof.

    “It’s on fire!” He shouted, tears streaming down his face. The animals resting inside the barn went wild, crying out in all their animal noises. The air seemed to get warmer in a matter of seconds.

    Tomas stood up from the hay, quivering as he ran to the barn doors. A horse snapped free from the wood doors holding it back. It smashed right into Tomas, becoming a pile on the ground. The horse collapsed on top of Tomas, but Anyanka could still hear his screams.


    The burning roof snapped off exactly above where Tomas and the horse lay. The horse whinnied as its mane of hair filled with flames. Then Anyanka couldn’t see either one of them either more.

    The fire was everywhere suddenly. The hay had caught on fire, and the doors exiting the barn were on fire. The animals were burning pieces of meat.

    The second story of the barn, which was open to down below, snapped off its hinges. Burning crates came tumbling down everywhere. Anyanka had nowhere to run. Things were burning here and there and here and there and here and-

    A crate managed to roll down and bash her in the head. She collapsed on the ground as more crates covered her.

    Flashes of red and orange, then black.

    The whole homestead was lit in flames around Lawrence and his men. Hideous, disfigured outlaws were slashing and battling all of them, but Lawrence was known for his famous sword arm.

    The fire was the worst of it all. A field of crops lay past the homes, and they became filled with a wildfire. Flames everywhere, really.

    “The family!” Ser Rickard shouted over to Lawrence as he sliced one man’s head off. “We have to find the family!”

    But the home and barn were on fire too. The barn had collapsed in on itself, and was now a burning heap of wood. Two bodies had been pulled from the wreckage of the home by outlaws and strung up. A woman with a dagger through her chest and young girl with multiple sword wounds. And then of course the body of a middle aged man was continuously being trampled while his head lay several feet away, burning.

    The fire had began to wear out on the house and barn by the time the outlaws had been cut down. A few remained, two fighting against Rickard. But neither survived. Eventually the field was littered with many outlaws, scorched wood and crops, and a couple of horses and knights.

    Ser Rickard leaped off his horse once the last man had fallen and hurried over to the women’s bodies. The older woman, probably the mother, was dead. Her eyes were panic stricken, but one of the prettiest things about her. In respect, Rickard closed them. The younger girl was wheezing slowly, and refused to open her eyes. Illza tried to heal her, but the girl faded too fast. While she died, Rickard and several of the other knights dug through the charred rubble of the home. Out came several other bodies, all of them children. None of them had survived.

    Rickard then walked over to the barn, and pushed things about searching. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood and the sweat. The other knights tried to help him, but he shouted them off. After several minutes of looking and looking, one of the knights spoke up.

    “No one survived, Ser Rickard. Perhaps we should-” But the man stopped at Rickard’s look. After several more seconds, Rickard shoved off one more piece of charcoal. And then he saw a horse. And under that dead, dark brown horse was something squirming. Moving around, kicking, screeching.

    Rickard and the others pushed until the horse rolled off. And then there was a dirty, bloody, sweaty boy laying in the ashes. His eyes were wide with fear as he glanced back and forth between the nights.

    “Thank V’hallar.” Rickard murmured as he helped the trembling boy up from the wreckage. “Can you speak, child?”

    “Y-y-yes.” The boy lowered his head.

    “What will we do with him, Ser Lawrence?” Rickard looked up at Lawrence on his horse, and something in his eyes said that he would only allow for one thing to happen.

    TAG: @Trieste @HanSolo29, your update comes after Trieste replies. Have to get things in order. (@Obi Anne, hold off on your reply just this time. You're still alive, don't worry. ;))
  18. Livi-Wan Jedi Knight

    Malik Stone

    Malik's hands shook as he held up the portrait. Of all things, why this? He looked from the painted woman to his father and back again.

    A thousand questions crowded on his tongue. Questions he'd shoved down deep, never to be asked- Who was she? What was she like? Did you love her? Did she- do I- have a family? All the things a bastard never dares ask- all the things they carry secretly inside their hearts.

    Jowan's voice seemed to come from a long way away.

    "She was my lover. I had this crafted for her before. . .”

    "She died. Didn't she." The words spilled out unbidden. Malik could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the picture. "Why are you showing me this? I never asked. I never said anything."

    Nothing, in all his years at the Harrowmont household- nothing, in all his years of abuse when Jowan had stood by and never lifted so much as a finger in his son's defence. And yet, Jowan and Evony were more like parents to him than this woman, with her sad, solemn eyes and brown curly hair so like his own.

    Malik stared at his mother's eyes and felt nothing at all.

    This woman is a stranger to me, and no amount of pictures or fine words will change that.

    "Who was she, then. Your lover."

    TAG: @spycoder9
  19. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Isles of Mirwyth

    The Queen's Chambers

    “My beautiful daughter. . .”

    It would be obvious to Raven that her mother was drunk. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to stand up from her bed. Finally, after much straining, Kalera Delmari fell back onto his pillows. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, and her sobs were loud and long. Never had Raven seen her mother in such a state.

    “Don’t touch my baby. . .don’t you dare. . .I’ll kill you!” She continued to scream, shaking back and forth in her bed. The healer, a soft spoken woman from the Great Continent, came forth and gave Kalera some softmilk, the milk drawn from cows that had been treated with wine. Kalera’s cries quieted, and finally she fell asleep.

    “Princess Raven. . .”the healer’s voice was so quiet is almost was not heard. “The Queen needs. . .her rest. Nightmares are. . .especially bad.”

    TAG: @Teegirl00
  20. Trieste Jedi Grand Master

    OOC: In true Game of Thrones fashion...this isn't going to be pretty, at least in the beginning. I've tried to be somewhat tactful, but consider this your forewarning.
    IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
    Dragonwood - The Farms

    The heat was intense, surrounding them. The fields, aflame. The farmhouse, engulfed. The barn, burning.

    So for Lawrence, it was another day at the office.

    The heat of the Desert could hit you like an oven. He'd been forced to do combat in the oppressive, baking sun before. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the same, but there was a surprising level of familiarity to these conditions. And as he galloped by the first ruffian, Lawrence's scimitar took out a chunk of his side, toppling him with a gurgle of pain and surprise. Blood spurted onto the knight's charger as it rushed by the fallen man. With calm precision he brought his arm over to the other side of his body to hack at the intersection of the neck and shoulder. The fountain that spewed forth splashed onto Lawrence's armor, leaving a bright crimson swath on his left side. He barely took note of it as he reined his horse in to find the next target in the seeming whirlwind of flame, punctuated by cries of pain.

    That was when Lawrence spotted the big one. Perhaps he was their leader, perhaps he was just a brute, but he was battering the shield of one of his fellow companions with a crude cudgel. What the weapon lacked in refinement it made up for in force. That seemed to be the general operating principle of this fellow as far as Lawrence could tell. He spurred his horse and lowered his scimitar as he drove towards the beast of a man that threatened the life of one of his own. The Desertman was not faring well against his foe and had been forced to abandon his weapon to simply stave off the savage blows in an attempt at simply surviving. The shield was giving way beneath the constant blows of knotted wood. It finally split in two, leaving the Desertman weaponless and defenseless. As he backed up to try and put distance between him and his assailant, he found himself inching closer and closer to the burning crops. The large, musclebound man smiled a broken grin of victory and--

    --spurted blood out of his mouth as the point of Lawrence's scimitar stuck out from his ribcage. The knight jerked the sword out from the raider's back and the large man tottered for a second before he collapsed with a solid thud. The helpless companion was too dazed to make any sort of show of thanks, but Lawrence simply raised his scimitar wordlessly to acknowledge the unspoken thanks.

    By this point the battle had wound down, the raiders defeated. Lawrence surveyed the carnage, a grim scene. What had once been someone's whole world, the lands they drew life and sustenance from, the farm where they had likely been born, and just as likely their parents before them had been born, was now gone. It was not out of the realm of possibility that those who had been slaughtered here had never gone further than five miles from this place during the course of their entire lives. Such was the lot of many farmers in Mirwyth. And a man who had traveled many leagues, from a barren land that they probably could not fathom, had failed to save them.

    Sweat was now starting to roll down Lawrence's face, partially from the exertion, but more from the heat of the fires, which were starting to die out for lack of fuel. Lawrence let his gaze sweep slowly across the scene before him. The words of Illiza came back to him..."No, no...bad things..."

    "Bad things indeed," Lawrence murmured as he slowly walked his horse back to where Rickard had just dispatched the last two bandits. Ser Rickard, for all his boyish looks, possessed surprising skill when it came to combat. A pretty face indeed hid many secrets.

    "There will be blood. In the near future..." the words echoed in Ser Lawrence's mind as he watched Rickard perform some last rights over one of the dead farmers, a woman. Illiza knelt over the body of a child as the life left her. When the priestess looked up, her eyes confirmed what Lawrence thought. He bent his head respectfully.

    "I underestimated you, priestess," Lawrence said, "Even with your visions, you are not unfeeling to your fellow men. I doubt they kept the faith of V'hallar, but you still did what you could. As light shines on all lands, so He loves all people, regardless of faith. You are a worthy emissary." And yet Lawrence turned his head and looked at the crops, still smoldering, burnt in the fields. Fire came from V'hallar, a gift to the people, but one that could destroy. The people of the Desert, those who kept V'hallar close in their hearts, had learned to accept and live with the intensity of V'hallar's gift. Those of the Dragonwood had not been prepared for the glory of V'hallar, so indistinguishable from his wrath...

    "What has been said in the darkness shall be heard in the light," Lawrence recited. His family words. They were words that drew upon the faith of V'hallar. It was not an easy faith to keep.

    A commotion attracted Lawrence's attention, rousing him from his contemplations. Ser Rickard was fervently digging through the charred ruins of barn--and then he stopped. Lawrence trotted over to see what was going on. It appeared Rickard had found a survivor--the sole survivor.

    "Thank V'hallar. Can you speak child?" Rickard asked.

    "Y-y-yes," the boy, sooty and bloody, stuttered.

    "What will we do with him, Ser Lawrence?" Rickard asked with a face that seemed boyish--even if it was flecked with the blood of his opponents.

    Kildare swung off his horse. The scimitar was still in his hands, the blood on it beginning to dry. Nearby was the body of an opponent. He wiped each side on the rough tunic of the dead raider and sheathed the sword. It would be cleaned more properly before they arrived at King Desmond's mountain retreat but Lawrence would not carry the blood of these brigands any further than he had to. Of course, getting the blood out of his armor would be a more involved process, but as a squire he'd learned tricks to that. His squire had long ago learned those techniques in other engagements. If only he didn't have to approach this child who had seen his whole world come to an end with such a visceral reminder of death splashed across Ser Lawrence.

    He gingerly stepped across the blackened beams of the barn to where Rickard was with the boy. Lawrence squatted to be closer to the child, precariously balancing himself on the rubble. "I am sorry for what happened here," Lawrence said in his deep cultured voice, which he softened as much as possible, "You are thrust into the world now, little man. We travel to the Tower of Stone. There is work to do there if you choose to make your life there. If you have other family that are on our way, we can leave you with them. I wish you were spared such choices, but they are thrust upon you little man. But we must go now. There is nothing left for you here. The living do not belong with the dead. It is not good for us to remain here..." Lawrence stood and looked across the now barren waste. One band of raiders sometimes bred another. "...For any of us."

    As he looked back at the young boy with the shattered world, Ser Lawrence Kildare wondered who was the stranger in a strange land now.

    "Burn the bodies," Ser Lawrence told his men, "Whatever faith they kept, I hope that they shall find peace knowing that their souls were commended by those who kept the faith of V'hallar." Perhaps their gods would understand. These people could use some mercy this day. If only to save them from the ignominy of providing feasts for carrion.

    Ser Lawrence had seen much violence, much blood. Such things tested the faith of a man. He had been taught to accept these tests, for V'hallar was not an easy god. He had not given Lawrence's people an easy land. He demanded much from all. And yet a fire burned in Lawrence's heart, a fire that V'hallar had sparked whether He willed it or not. This fire burned against V'hallar. Hard working peasants who had no more weapons than a pitchfork and a shovel suffering at the hands of evil men. It was hard to see V'hallar's justice in such a place as this. In anger, Ser Lawrence kicked a bunch of brittle, burnt beams near where he stood.

    Lawrence turned and looked at Illiza. The hard lines of his face cracked into something resembling a smile. "I do not know who is more stubborn: V'hallar or the stiff-necked people who keep faith with him."

    Tag: @spycoder9

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