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RPF A War of Kings

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

  1. trimaj Jedi Master

    IC: Ser Malcolm Granville/ Dining Hall/ Stone Tower


    Malcolm stared at his now empty goblet and wished for it to be full again. A nice sour red would do, but there was nothing for it. His Grace Rolmar had asked for Malcolm's presence as soon as his daughter returned, and if there was one thing that he was good at it was following orders. Sometimes, if they were the right sort of orders. Watching for one Safia Rolmar was his kind of orders because, frankly, he found her to be extremely doable.

    Having run out of wine, Malcolm moved to where he was positioned by the egress that King Rolmar and his daughter had used and ended up waiting longer than he wanted. He amused himself by picturing many of the serving wenches dead, nude or both. It was only the really pretty ones that were both, because it was best if no one else could ever taste any woman after he had. It was a bad habit, and he knew, it but there was no shortage of villagers.

    After an indeterminate amount of time fantasizing he finally heard a single set of footsteps coming back, and only after they were far too close for his liking. I'm serposed to hear that stuff sooner than that. It was a major mark of Princess Safia's grace. As she passed by him, completely oblivious, he stared at her ass as it swayed back and forth. One of the finest I've ever seen. What I wouldn't give to be able to pork her a few times. The thought brought a lewd smile to his face. He did manage to leave the death of her out of his fantasies, just on the very off chance they ever happened.

    Smirking to himself, Ser Malcolm headed down the hallway, up a stairway, and down another hall and completely ignoring every piece of artwork on the walls until he came to the King's solar. Knocking once and then opening the door he paused. “Have a bit of an accident did we? How did the Princess take an inkwell flying at 'er face.” It was the ink that had splattered all over the wall and run down onto the floor that drew his attention. The shattered glass made him very glad off his thick leather boots.

    King Rolmar glared at him before replying, “The Princess did not witness that.” It was very obvious that he was still furious about something or the other.

    Oh, so it was a bit of a tantrum as it were. Can't say its the kingliest thing to do, but ya are human after all.” He smirked straight at the king who harrumphed and turned to his desk. “There is to be a wedding in three weeks. You will be head of the guard detail. We will be in need of a very particular type of man to be the guards, I am quite certain you know the ones I am speaking of.” His voice had simmered down to a whisper, which was something that Ser Malcolm had always found infuriating. Why can't the man just bloody well talk like the rest of us? Its not like it does anything but annoy the crap outta me. But it was never good to attempt correction of a man, much less a king, in Rolmar's mind.

    With a languid nod Ser Malcolm replied, “Yea I know the men yer talking of.” He scratched at his beard, wondering what precisely was going on. Then decided it didn't really matter because he'd find out when he was supposed to. Or before, most likely since that was his way. Turning back to the ink on the ground he wondered what could have made the King so angry. While he could find out information, the motives of men was somewhat beyond him.

    On your way out send Maestar Wilkins to me. I have letters I need sent out immediately. Now leave me.” King Rolmar was now sitting at his desk, quill out and about to dip it into the now non-existant inkwell. “And send a servant with a new inkwell.”

    The dismissal was obvious, and Ser Malcolm decided he wanted some more wine. So he set about doing as requested, or more accurately to get a servant to do it, and then back to the dining hall to ogle the princess some more. It sounded like a fine way to spend the rest of the evening.

    TAG: @spycoder9

    OOC: Sorry about the wait. For some reason this post drove me nuts. Spy, I figure you being the maestar would probably be a good thing. If you want we can turn it into a combine if it looks like it may be something of a back and forth type thing. Also, feel free to throw something at Malcolm.
  2. PointGiven Jedi Grand Master

    Tytos Ashemark
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Harbor

    "INVADERS!" a booming female voice called out into the silence. "The Harbor is under attack!"

    Tytos's head snapped up, but he could not see who had warned the harbor; the running dockhands screened the yeller.

    Damn I was hoping for another minute of surprise....


    "You're now part of the Silver Swords, harbor master," Tytos growled impatiently. "If you don't want to join, you'll die."

    "All-all right."


    He motioned one of the disembarking sellswords to him. "Take him to the hold with the others. If he gives you trouble, clap him in irons."

    The old man looked fearfully at the smirking sellsword. "There will be be n-no trouble m'lord."

    "Oh I'm no lord," Tytos said wryly. "But I'll take it as a compliment."

    Unfortunately the shouted warning had given the majority of the dockhands and other workers time to escape the harbor, but nearly twenty had been rounded up, and already sellswords were boarding other docked ships and taking their crew. Not many fights broke out; the operation had been too smooth for that.

    "Captain Ashemark!" two voices cried from the docks entrance. Tytos turned to behold them.

    "Ah yes, Aneez, Yunak...where's the third?"

    "The only other person with us was some tall girl," said Yunak. "Was that the one you wanted?"

    "No, it was some man, Fendon or Fenton...anyway, you have the location of the treasure?"

    "Yes, it's in the town magistrate's home," Aneez said breathlessly. "But there are more important matters. The city watch is out on training maneuvers, but if they are warned they can reach the city within the hour."

    "How far is the magistrate's home?"

    "Twenty minutes. You can get there and back with the loot then, but it will be tricky to do so and press enough dockhands into service."

    By now, a crowd of sellswords were ringing the three men.

    "You heard Aneez, let's get to it." Tytos snapped. He turned to Aneez. How long do we have until the watch is alerted?"

    "Depends if someone rings the harbor bell."

    "And when-"

    But the harbor bells had begun to ring.

    TAG: @Ktala @spycoder9
  3. Ktala Jedi Knight

    Lorain Ashkey
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Harbor

    Lorain ran for the entrance of the harbor, calling out the alarm. She was glad to see that others were paying heed to her warning, as she ran for the large bell that sat to the front. And Luck seemed to be with her, as she did not spy anyone else following her.

    She soon came upon the large bell. With a wry grin, Lorain whipped out one of her hammers and with well aimed swings, began to ring the harbor bell as loud as she could, to warn the Watch of the invasion.

    'TWOOONNNGGG!!!' The bell sounded out loudly, in a deep register. No mistaking THAT sound.

    Lorain also kept a well trained eye as lookout around her, for either the brigands were were attacking, or for her father. He would surely have to hear the bell as well. She rang the bell several times, to make sure that the alarm would reach the watch. As she rang the bell, Lorain then scanned for someplace she could run to, once the invaders breached the harbor. They were on the hunt for something, and Lorain did not want to be the one standing there, when they reached the bell. She had done what she needed, and warned the others. She had heard about how the city had been attacked once before. She imagined that they would react to the bell. Hopefully, that would save many from being on the streets when things began to happen.

    Now, she just wanted to find her father, and leave the city. So much for a fun shopping trip.

    TAG: @PointGiven @spycoder9
  4. Teegirl00 Jedi Grand Master

    Raven Delmari
    The Queen's Chambers

    It was late and Raven had not seen her mother around. She is probably passed out for her mother liked to drink a little too much these days. Raven wasn’t particularly close to her mother. It was her father that garnered her attention. It was hard for her to sympathize with her mother for she was always doing things to get father angry. No wonder there was a lack of love in their marriage.

    Walking through the corridor she could hear screams coming from her mother’s chambers. She quickly ran in to see what the commotion was.

    “My beautiful daughter. . .”

    Her mother said just as she entered the room. Raven rolled her eyes for her mother was indeed drunk. Barely able to stand up while her eyelids were fluttering, the queen was a complete and utter mess. Raven was glad that her father wasn’t around to see this. Raven felt embarrassed whenever she saw her mother in this state, but Raven was not prepared on what happened next.

    The queen fell back on to her pillows and started screaming “Don’t touch my baby. . .don’t you dare. . .I’ll kill you!” as she rocked back and forth.

    Raven was in shock. She had never seen her mother like this before. She asked the healer who had been in the room with her what was wrong with her mother. The healer spoke in a soft voice and said

    “The Queen needs. . .her rest. Nightmares are. . .especially bad.”

    Raven didn’t know what to say. She had so many questions in her head like who the baby was? and who was trying to take the baby.

    She knew she wasn’t going to get any answers till the morning when her mother sobers up. Raven looked at her mother for a few minutes, then slowly left the room.

    TAG: @spycoder9
  5. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyth
    The Oasis of Dawnsgrace

    The White Palace

    “Ah. . .”

    Ghazzan paused. He tried to recall several names of the desert. Important families with good soldiers and good items.

    “House Ermnest. The daughter of Lord Ermnest is single and recently flowered. Pretty girl, if she is as I remember her from a year ago. Well, except for her narrow hips. Not too good for birthing children. . .might as well scratch her off the list. You need a strong woman to have an heir.”

    He scratched his chin again.

    “House Tillyworth. The sister of Lord Tillyworth is another eligible bachelorette. She is rather stunning. . .oh never mind. I’m thinking of Lady Tillyworth. The sister is. . .not pretty, to tell you the truth. Manly. Awkward. Not queen material.”

    Ghazzan sighed, ticking down all the names of Houses. Then he stomped his foot in realization.

    “Of course! How could I forget? The MOST eligible woman in the kingdom! Lady Ginnifer Kildare. You just sent her brother off to marry Safia Rolmar. The union between you two would unite the kingdoms perfectly.”

    TAG: @PointGiven
  6. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Dining Hall

    The woman seemed stunned to hear Safia speaking to her so kindly. After all the bad talk of her from Ectarion, she was pleased to reply.

    “Oh, Ser Lawrence. . .” She sighed with a smile.

    “The strongest knight in the desert, that I’m sure of. Loyal to those who show him kindness, and kind to all those he protects. And handsome. . .he has the Kildare looks.” She realized Safia had no idea about many of the Kildares. “Oh. . .of course, you will receive a lesson on their history. It is very interesting. But Ser Lawrence was really the best man you could have from the desert.”

    Ectarion frowned.

    “He is a desert man. I see no promising characteristics of a desert man.”

    The woman shot him a dirty look.

    “Ser Lawrence is a true knight, and you will be his princess. I’d think he is not hard to love. . .and like I said, he is very nice. . .”

    TAG: @JediMasterAnne
  7. JediMasterAnne Jedi Master

    IC: Safia Rolmar
    Dining Hall

    For all that Safia loved her brother, she was sorely tempted to reach across the table and smack him; his attitude was not helpful. He was probably lucky their father was not in the room to witness his behavior.

    The woman, on the other hand, was at least reassuring with her high praise of Ser Lawrence--Safia wondered, at the woman’s almost dreamy tone, if her opinions stemmed from her own personal feelings. But if there was any truth to her words, perhaps Safia could at least learn to like him.

    Love…she wasn’t sure about that. She couldn’t see how she could learn to love another man when she still harbored feelings for Matheus.

    “And what of the rest of his family?” With only such a small amount of time before the wedding, Safia wanted to learn as much as she possibly could.

    TAG: @spycoder9
  8. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The Lord's Chambers

    “Your mother. . .my lover. . .” He rubbed his face again.

    Adria Reynard was her name. Yes. . .yes.” Jowan knew that Malik would know the name. “Adria was the eldest daughter of King Reynard, as you can recall from your studies. Pretty girl, and she met me pretty much in my prime of youth. Yes, she was wedded to Tyiro Tillyworth. . .foolish man. I met her at her wedding.”

    His eyes went glassy as he faded back to memories.

    “I danced with her. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as I spun her, and her voice. . .” He smiled. “She made me a weak man. And I was one of them who led her to the bedding, stripping her of clothes and bringing her to her husband. Where I had to watch him. . .kiss her. When I wanted her badly. So badly.”

    “You are not my son, Malik. That I can promise you. Never once did I bed Adria. Kissed her many a time, but never once did we bed. She was sacred in that sense. And pregnant.”

    Jowan leaned forward to look directly at Malik.

    “Do you realize what this means, Malik? Whose blood you hold in your veins?” His grim smile revealed all of it. “You have the Reynard blood in you, and your mother was the rightful heir to the throne.” He stopped Malik before he could speak. “I know men come before women in lineage, but she was the firstborn. And you are her only a child, a true man. You are not a bastard, in any sense.”

    "You are the rightful king of Mirwyth."

    TAG: @Livi-Wan
  9. Iron_Jedi Jedi Knight


    Name:Edward Plaga
    Appearance: Black Coat with White Trim (link ofhttp://images.wikia.com/fable/images/b/be/Fortune's_Tower_Item_03.jpg)Black Pants, White Boots
    Homeland: Formerly the Isles, now his only home is his ship, the Charybdis
    King : None
    Occupation:Pirate, Smuggler, Mercernary
    Family Banner :A white Great White Shark on a black field
    House Words : The Sea Shall Separate the Weak from the Worthy
    Biography:The Plagas were one of, if not the pre-eminent trading family in the Isles of Mirwyth. High volumes of commerce went through their harbors, and they were favored by the King of the Isles. However, the actions of one bold pirate have all but destroyed the once great house.

    All the males of the family were captured by the feared Pirate Lord Blackburn while out on a scouting expedition. One by one , the party died, from either starvation or torture. His older brother, his father all died. Until he was the last male Plaga left. The Dread Pirate took a liking to the young Edward , making him his servant, and letting him live. Yet despite his subservience, he was always looking for away to reverse his fortunes. He learned that a good number of the crew bordered on mutiny, yet they didn’t act from fear.

    The Dread Pirate massed his forces and attacked the Desert Port of Arqasa. When he was routed by the young Sir Lawerence Kildare, Edward took his chance. He stabbed the Pirate Lord in the throat, and pushed his fresh corpse to the sea. Although he brutally repressed those loyal to their former captain, he is overall an understanding and good captain himself, allowing his crew a say in his decisions. He now looks to get more ships under his command, and hopefully try his own hand at raiding the land of Mirwyth.
  10. Chukles38 Jedi Master

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

    A sigh escaped his lips as Nathaniel leaned back in his seat, letting the old memories flood through his mind. There were so many, and all so good. How he missed his sailing days. Life was easier then, more free. Men aspired to be kings, and yet, would that they knew what it fully entailed, Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder if they'd reconsider those desires. The idea of money and power, control and fame were all well and good--even Nathaniel had to admit there was a certain draw to them--but in actuality? Those things were more a prison than they were liberators. Often Nathaniel felt trapped by the job he'd found himself in. If only he could sail the seas, unanswerable to anyone, but such thoughts were for a younger man than the old king. Time was catching up to him, a fact he was all too aware of with every morning. This, however, only made his memories sweeter.

    At length, the old man spoke, his voice beginning distant and soulful only to grow more direct and energetic as the story progressed. "Well, as I said, it happened in this very tavern." Nathaniel turned to Korianton. "Your father and I were in port, and, as was the usual state of things, I had dragged him here for a drink." At this, the young Rynquist took a moment out of his defensive glaring to raise a brow at Nathaniel, who, for his part, ignored the younger man. "We'd had quite a few, mind you, and I'll be the first to admit I was not thinking as myself. I was a far bolder man back then too.

    "And so it went that there was a young woman here, fairest I'd ever seen. She was sipping on a drink, ignoring the advances of the man nearby her. We'd met gazes a few times, and I was much interested in knowing her better." A chuckle escaped him. "And so, the man got up and bumped into me on his way to the bar. Were I to have been sober, I'd have thought better of facing up to him. I was a brave man, and a strong man, but this fellow was by far larger than I. So, what rationality would have stayed my tongue was robbed by the liqueur, and in a foolish attempt to impress the damsel, I struck the man. Well, he punched me back, and I'd never been hit harder. Our fight quickly engulfed the entire tavern, and soon I found myself, along with several others, in prison. While my fellow combatants were pardoned, I was cruelly detained with no hope of seeing freedom for some time, quite unfairly too."

    Korianton raised another brow at this. "My father told it differently. Apparently, you assaulted several constables on your way to the prison, as well as said a few less than complimentary things to them."

    Nathaniel broke out in laughter. "Well, perhaps that was what happened then. Truth be told, I don't remember much after that first punch. Regardless, it took my big brother, the soon-to-be Lord Delmari, swooping down to get me out. However, he had his own prison in mind. He was intent upon dragging me back home, where I would stay out of trouble. I didn't much care for this plan, and so I escaped. And where did I go?" He paused for a moment, but, understandably, no one knew the answer. "Back to the Bloody Breeze, of course, where that fine young lass was once more."

    Nathaniel paused in thought, letting the pleasant memory of her roll through his thoughts. When next his spoke, his tone was wistful. "She was a servant in the house of Moorecroft, a maid or some such. We spent many beautiful nights together, until my ship left, me aboard. I never did see her again." His voice trailed off, the thoughts of an old man longing for his youth weighing upon his mind.

    Perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of concern for his safety, Korianton placed a gentle hand upon Nathaniel's shoulder. "Perhaps, sire, we'd best leave. Lord Tymothi must be frantically tearing the city apart by now."

    Nathaniel brightened slightly. "Quite right, quite right. I've taken too much of these fine people's time. Begging your pardon," He nodded at those around the table and stood, pulling his cloak about him more firmly.

    The pair turned to leave, but as they moved away from the table, Nathaniel turned towards the girl for a moment. "If I may, madame, what is your name?" Though Lord Rynquist seemed agitated at the delay, Nathaniel refused to move until he was answered. This girl, she captivated him in a strange way. She looked so much like--

    Bah, enough of that. Such thoughts were better dwelt upon in safer environs.

    TAG: @Jedi_Padawan_Leigh @Mitth_Fisto @spycoder9
    Trieste likes this.
  11. Penguinator RPF Modinator and Batmanager

    Hlaine Gideon
    The Mountains of Mirwyth, Cyrell

    The screams woke him with a start, not that the sleep had been terribly restful.

    Hlaine Gideon ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. Caethrene's dreams had been filled with terror of late; she would scream for her father, time after time, but to no avail.

    This was getting out of hand.

    He rose, pulling on his trousers and a shirt and slipping on his boots. He shivered and stepped to his door when he heard it - she was screaming his name this time, and something about-


    Hlaine set off down the hall as fast as he could. The nurse was there when he arrived, and Hlaine stepped swiftly to his cousin's side.

    "It's all right, it's all right, I'm here - I'm here," he said, taking her hand in his. "Who's coming?"

    TAG: @spycoder9
  12. Livi-Wan Jedi Knight

    Malik Stone

    Malik dropped the picture.

    "I can't." He felt the room growing bigger around him, his voice getting more hysterical- almost giggly. King! Rightful king of Mirwyth! Jowan might as well have told Malik that he was King of the Moon. "That's not true. I can't be."

    He laughed, wild and utterly without humour. "I'm a bastard. Everyone knows it."

    But then... if this woman was who Jowan said she was, (and why would he lie about it?), then it must be. He wasn't Malik Stone at all, but Malik Reynard. Prince Malik Reynard. The name made him feel sick. It belonged to someone else- some lordling who probably got his jollies pushing around the common folk and would never have the time for a lowly bastard.

    "Evony is going to kill me." He knelt, and picked up the picture again. "I don't suppose there's any way we can sort of... forget about this?"

    In his heart, though, Malik knew that there was no way he could- things like crowns seek you out. Eventually, just as now, it would all come to light.

    TAG: @spycoder9

  13. Jedi_Padawan_Leigh Jedi Knight

    IC: Gwenn Cliffe
    The Bloody Breeze

    It had been a simple question, but it appeared to affect the king in a way as he pondered the answer. He seemed almost mournful of his former life, And Gwenn suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Turning his head to look at her, the kings gaze met her own, and a little bit of his former smile reappeared, but there was something about those eyes as he looked at her. Was he…studying her? Gwenn tried her best not to look uncomfortable. His companion quickly seemed to sense the Kings change in demeanour, and appeared concerned as he laid a hand on his shoulder. The king looked up at the young man, and for a moment he looked more his years than before. He seemed to shrug some of his musings away however, turning his attentions back to those around him at the table.

    Wait, my friends, Until you grow old. Memories haunt you like phantoms. Some are happy, some sad." He chuckled then "And so many good memories I have. Swashbuckling with pirates. Risking storms. I've even had my hand in smuggling. Would you like to hear one of these memories? Happened right here in The Bloody Breeze."

    “Who could say no to such reflections?” The bearded newcomer replied. The sound of a tankard being slammed down onto the wooden table caused her to bring her attentions briefly back to the man named Dylan, who started to enthusiastically describe the “conquests” of the king in his loud drunken way. “Why is it when men bed many women it is seen as some sort of achievement, but when a woman beds just one more man she is labelled a whore?” Gwenn mused silently, her eyes narrowing a fraction as she watched one of the bar-maids scurry over an refill his drink. The maid also brought a plate of food to the newcomer before engaging him in conversation. Dylan took another long swig of ale Tell me some stories! Tonight’s te night fer tales.” Gwenn nodded in agreement, and Cold-eyes seemed quite enthusiastic to hear a tale from the king himself. After all, this occurrence wasn’t something that happened every day. The king leant back in his chair once more, taking a few moments to collect his thoughts.

    Despite the background noise in the tavern, it was not hard for his words to command attention, such was his voice, Expressive, Soulful one minute then animated and jovial the next. A natural story-teller it seemed. He spoke of a woman that he had come to favour, their eyes meeting across the room in this very tavern, and his rather reckless attempt to get her attention. It was hard to imagine the man that sat amongst them now had been the one to start a mass bar brawl and end up in the stockade for his trouble. But then again, before today she wouldn’t believe a king would be sitting amongst the common-folk. A small smile formed on her lips as she listened. “So this woman was worth trashin a bar and gettin beaten senseless for? I suppose there is…worse ways to woo a woman” she thought to herself as the king continued with his story. His voice grew wistful as he spoke up once more "She was a servant in the house of Moorecroft, a maid or some such. We spent many beautiful nights together, until my ship left, me aboard. I never did see her again."

    An aura of surprise seemed to suddenly emanate from those that were around the king. Delmari may not have been the king, or even the lord of his house at that time, but just the fact that a highborn man had engaged in a court-ship with a servant of all people seemed enough to warrant such a reaction. And the woman had been serving the Moorecroft house, one of the Delmari families staunchest supporters? That was gossip of the highest grade. So how come she hadn’t heard of it until now? This was the sort of thing that got passed around, rumours whispered in hushed tones from one to another, season to season, year to year. But the Moorecroft family valued reputation over everything else, and if anyone did anything to tarnish it…her thoughts went back to Old Tarkwin, his body floating face-down and lifeless in the water. Maybe no one had even spoke of it, because they dared not too. Gwenn glanced at her fellow dock-workers “Best keep this story to themselves and take it too their graves, else Slade will send em to their graves early” she thought grimly.

    The king seemed to be lost in his own thoughts once more and it was then that his young companion suggested that the two take their leave. The king agreed and stood, pulling his cloak about him more firmly. They turned to walk towards the door, but Gwenn was surprised when the King turned to face her. Standing before him she started to feel a little bit awkward again, but forced herself to look at him. He spoke with a kindly tone. If I may, madame, what is your name?" Gwenn blinked, slightly taken aback. She looked him in the face and noticed his eyes. He had that look in his eyes again. Why did he appear to be taking an interest in her all of a sudden? She had a feeling he wouldn’t leave without an answer, despite his companions obvious agitation at the further delay. She felt other eyes on her too, Dylan, Cold-eyes, others around the table, that made her feel even more awkward. Letting out a soft sigh, she cast her grey eyes down towards the tavern floor

    “Cliffe…Gwenn Cliffe, yer Grace…”
    TAG: @Chukles38, @Mitth_Fisto, @spycoder9
  14. WINKWINK Jedi Padawan

    Homeland The mountains
    King N/A
    Occupation:Underworld legend
    Family Banner: Pure black
    House Words: That which doesn't kill you... should have tried harder.

    [Age 7]
    Rat stood in a dark room, looming over a table with a small form tied over it, head cocked to the side as if listening to something in the silent room.
    Suddenly he spoke.
    "No, that doesn't sound like a good idea" he said in a puzzled voice and cocked his head to the other side.
    "Well not to me."
    He looked to the girl unconscious on the table.
    "But I like Lilly"

    Placed in a shodaire orphanage at a young age, Rathborn was given the name rat by the other children because they could sense something wrong about him.
    Severely deranged, he heard voices throughout his life non of them pleasant. One was of particular influence and he can seen in conversation with these voices, most often the dark one. During his childhood he learned to blend in with those around him, suppressing the urge to visibly talk with his "friends".

    The women in charge and the other children in the orphanage were all terrified of him, although the name rat stuck until the day he again listened to the voices and burned down the orphanage. Not to kill those inside but to cover up what he had done during the night. At that point he took the name Rathborn and took to life on the streets.

    [Age 15]
    Rathborn looked down the alley at the man coming towards him, knife held expertly in front of him as he advanced. Looked at him, and smiled.

    A hand to hand fighter that comes along once in a thousand years with no conscience and a willingness, no a drive, a need, to bring despair people took notice of Rathborn quickly. And he took to their world and made it his own.

    [Age 20]
    Rathborn entered the familiar dank tavern and headed straight to the back stairs carrying two sacks, not even taking notice of the worms that scrambled to get out of his way. Going down a level and entering the first door on the right and passed through a lushly decorated meeting room, ignoring the wealth being displayed. Going behind the large throne like chair to one of the tapestries covering the wall behind it he paused and smiled.
    "Yes, I have".
    Pushing back the tapestry he knocked in sequence on the door it concealed and waited.
    There was a click and he opened the door with an animalistic anticipation, body tense and on edge.
    A middle age man sat at a desk facing the door and motioned for him to wait.
    Ignoring the mans instruction Rathborn went to the desk and dropped his cargo with a thud.
    The man looked up from his now ruined paper arched his eyebrow at the mess on his exquisitely carved desk and asked "And just who have you brought me today Rath? more urchins?"
    Scowling the man growled "Out with it boy, I'm not in the mood for your games"
    "Carl and Rudd"
    The mans face went ashen

    Rathborn rose to power among the criminal underworld and now controls it with a carefully controlled reign of terror, extending their power from Shodaire Throughout Mirwyth.
  15. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Mountains of Mirwyth


    In the commons of Shodaire, with men and women dressed in worn clothing walking around, two men met.

    Both weren’t the type to draw looks from pretty peasant girls. One was clean shaven, but his hair was wild and crazy around his head. The other had a long, fuzzy beard. Both were rather skinny.

    One might’ve been recognized as being inside the king’s castle. Ser Malcolm Graham, the one with the beard, had just come back from the castle. The other, named Rathborn, was perhaps more well known. His popularity throughout the streets had led to many men’s murder. He had even received the attention of Ser Graham, and now they were to talk.

    As they stood there, a girl carrying two pails of water stumbled past them. She smashed Malcolm in the back, and fell forwards. Luckily the water hadn’t splashed out too much, so she stood up shakily. When she met Malcolm’s eyes, she squealed and ran away.

    Perhaps they needed to take the conversation somewhere private.

    TAG: @trimaj, @WINKWINK
  16. trimaj Jedi Master

    OOC: This is the first half of a combo post between myself and WINKWINK

    IC: Ser Malcolm Granville/ Rathborn, Shodaire, Commons

    Having just gotten back to the dining hall, and ready to settle down again, a servant came scrambling up with a scrap of paper. "A m-message Ser. Important." It was obvious that the girl wanted to get away from him, and he wasn't in the mood to play with her. Taking the paper he unfolded it and saw a note from one Rathborn. *Meet me in the commons. Drinks. R* A subtle smile, hidden by his beard, worked its way onto his lips.

    Completely ignoring the serving wench, Malcolm tossed the paper into a fire as he headed towards one of the exits that would grant him access to the rest of the city. It was an interesting place, with all of it's spires. He had always marveled at the fact that when space was limited that people would figure out a way to grow regardless, and in this case that growth had been upwards. Some of the towers ended in spires, other's in crenelations. It would make the city a nightmare to take in some ways, just as it would make things difficult to defend. The city was a warren of passages, many of which ran straight into the ground and into the dark underground. The commons where Rathborn and he met was in one such place, and he turned down into the bowels of the city.

    If there was one thing that Ser Malcolm could say, it was that he preferred these parts of the city. A place where one could get away with a bit of killing and never have anyone from the world of light be the wiser. King Rolmar knew things like that went on, but so long as it didn't raise a public outcry and seemed more in accordance with common crime he would turn a blind eye. Ser Malcolm had tested this to a degree, and found the limits. And pushed on them a few times as well when he was in a particularly foul mood.

    As he arrived, Ser Malcolm spotted Rathborn instantly. He was dressed in black, with nothing showy about them, but obviously well made. There were a few holes, one at a knee, elbows and a few tears at the bottom of his cloak, but all it did was give the man an aire of "I don't give a damn". Raising his hand in greeting, Ser Malcolm was bumped from behind and nearly knocked over by a young woman carrying a couple of buckets of water. As she rose, Malcolm stared at her with his head slightly tilted. It was a leering look, and promised all kinds of unpleasant things that would happen.

    Rathborn didn't even notice the girl. Rathborn hadn't notice Malcolm was there at all, he was talking to white cat. White cat hadn't been around much lately, Black Cat and Brightness didn't like him. They didn't like very many people at all actually.
    "Wasn't that wet?"
    "I imagine so, It's a shame what Brightness did to him"
    His expression shifted slightly "You shouldn't taunt Brightness like that".
    Now outright scowling "Yes he can, you're not as immune as you think you are"
    He looked around at the sound of the girls mishap "Later, I have business to take care of"

    After the young woman had turned the corner, and having lost most of her water, Ser Malcolm finally turned his attention to Rathborn. "Might not have time for the usual tonight. Turns out there's a big to do that Desmond's got planned for his daughter. And you got a part to play in it. Well, not you percisly." Pulling out a dagger Ser Malcolm picked at a splinter that had found its way into his arm. "Might require a bit more privacy than we can get in this here alleyway though."

    Rathborn put his hand prominantly on his sword hilt and said in a monotone "I can cut that off for you if you would like"
    "Be quite Brightness"

    As usual, Rathborn had a tendency to creep out even Malcolm. "No mate, I'm a bit attached to it." Finally getting out the sliver of wood, along with a spot of blood, he put his dagger back. "Come on, I think there's a couple of wenches with our names on 'em. Or maybe just a few drinks." He motioned towards the door behind Rathborn.

    Standing aside and motioning Malcolm to go first "As you wish, although I'm not in the mood for a Lilly at the moment, and alcohol clouds the mind and turns your face red" He smiled with one side of his face "that annoys me."

    Eyeing Rathborn out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm said, "Liquor ain't all that flattering on you either." Pushing open the door, he waited for Rathborn to go in. "I take it you're in one of your no drinkin' moods. Some cider for you I guess." Why do I spend time with this guy...

    Rathborn stopped smiling and with a puzzled expression on his face he looked to the door and back to Malcolm "But, I was being polite." Smiling again this time with the left side of his face he went through the door "Thank you Honorably."

    Muttering to himself Malcolm said, "Of course you were. Because that's all you ever are." Following Rathborn in, Ser Malcolm headed to the back corner of the room, and took a seat where they weren't likely to be bothered. "You even slightly curious what job I got for you? Or should I get a room first."

    Rathborn took his seat, examined it quizzically and sat down next Malcolm "I am not attracted to men in that manner, maybe next week" He waved for the waitress and order himself a pint of milk and the same for Malcolm. "Malcolm, would you like to ask the Lilly for an alternative beverage?"

    That Rathborn would sit next to him shouldn't bother him anymore, after a few years Ser Malcolm thought he really should be used to the idiosyncrasies of the decidedly idiosyncratic man that was sitting next to him. But despite that amount of time, he was still easily creeped out by him. Deciding to ignore it, he told the serving wench, "Yea, not really in the mood for milk. Gimme an apple brandy." After she had left, "Guessing you want to wait before getting down to business." And under his breath he added, "assuming you even want to."

    Rathborn Look after the waitress as she went, noting her luxurious hair in particular.
    "Yes. Stop looking at her ass Brightness, you can have her later."
    "Business? You want someone to exit this mortal existence and you want me to expediate your-" he smiled "sorry, their, departure." He inhaled sharply, running his hands along the rough grain of the table top "And From your earlier comment I assume it isn't a mere assassination.'' Holding his breath he leaned in close to the other man in a conspiratorial manner, "Is his brightness making a move?"

    Before Ser Malcolm could say anything, their drinks arrived. Saying nothing he took his brandy, and took a sip of the drink that was like liquid fire on it's way down his throat. Smiling, he continued not saying anything until after the wench with her brilliant red hair was gone. "No, not so much. You're actually completely misreading... well, everything. I'm actually looking for some guards of a particular persuasion. who won't ask questions about anything asked of them. I have a few at the castle, but I'm in need of at least another twelve." Swirling his drink around, Ser Malcolm looked at the liquid instead of Rathborn. "Turns out that Rolmar's marrying off his daughter. Some upper crust knight from the desert from what I've heard. You have any men in mind?"

    Leaning back in his chair he took a long pull from his milk.
    "Well I do."
    "I have a couple in mind." He looked around the taveren, noting the the long bar and who was at it. Seeing one in particular he pointed and called mildly but in a voice that would carry "Claude! Come over here a moment please."
    As the mans eyes widened in fear he got up, clumsily knocking over his drink as he made his way through the maze of tables towards Rathborn and Malcolm.
    Once he got there he said in a hesitant voice "Um, my.... my name isn't Claude."
    "Claude, would you like to earn some money?" he asked in as kind a voice as he could muster.
    "Of course Rathborn, for you anything," the man said, obviously terrified. He had heard about what could happen in these encounters.
    Rathborn pushed his head forward, looking something like a bird as he examined the man.
    "Well what did Black Cat say? Really?"
    Rathborn stared through the man for another couple of moments, and then with a slight jerk relaxed back into his chair "Malcolm, give the man a present if you please." He looked to Malcolm "consider it my payment." He said looking as pathetic as he could, sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

    Come face to face with the realities of Rathborn yet again, Ser Malcolm did what he normally did. He rolled with the punches. Because anything else would normally result in the evening ending in a highly unpleasant fashion. What he hadn't expected was for Rathborn to essentially hand him a dead man to do whatever he wanted with. Ser Malcolm tilted his head slightly and scratched at his beard. "Claude was it? Would you like to join us? I think we have an extra glass of milk around here somewhere..." He motioned towards the glass, and as his hand passed over it he dropped in a certain tasteless powder he had picked up from a traveling assassin. The assassin was dead of course, but those were the realities of Ser Malcolm Granville.

    Gingerly, Claude sat down across from the two men, and drew the mug to him. It was several seconds before he took a long, deep swallow. And then he blinked. "Milk?" And Ser Malcolm found himself having a hard time not laughing.

    TAG: No one yet. WINKWINK will post the second part later. Might be a few days as he's going out of town.
  17. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Prairies of Mirwyth

    Near a Brook

    The bodies of the family members were burned as the young boy watched on. He had only a single tear running down his cheek, and his mouth refused to open. Only quivering every few seconds.

    Rickard finally laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him to an open horse. The surviving men were treated by Illiza, and then they too climbed onto their horses. Once Lawrence had gotten onto his horse, Illiza whispered one last prayer for the people who had perished. And she ended it with, “And may V’hallar show those guilty of their crimes persecution in the eternal hell.”

    Then they were off.

    They rode for a bit before stopping for a few seconds. Some of the men’s wounds had began to open yet again, and needed to be treated. Rickard strode off from his horse and traveled into a small wood, pledging to Lawrence that he would return as soon as he could. The sounds of a bubbling brook could be heard echoing through the forest, and it could be assumed he was going to wash his armor and gather his thoughts.

    “Ser, perhaps I am not the wisest person in this matter, but I would suggest you see to the knight. His ego may be as bulging as his muscles, but honor and valor run just as high in his veins.” Illiza petted the boy’s hair, wiping from soot out. The boy still refused to talk, and instead stared at his feet. “He needs some inspiration from the one man he respects more than his father.” The dark skinned woman smiled, the sun beaming down on her. She seemed to be literally bathed in the light of V’hallar.


    TAG: @Trieste

    The Farms

    Darkeyes and his men stormed through a small wood, where horse tracks seemed to lead in one direction. Once they came to the forest line, and could look out onto several plains, they would see the horrific nightmare the lands had become. A field of crops stretching very far was black as a crow. Dead men and horses were spread everywhere, some wearing armor, others in rags. A fire seemed to be burning in one spot, and a house and a barn lay in shambles.

    “We in hell or somethin'?” One of the men asked as they observed the carnage. They rode down in the field, several scouting around for anything moving. As they did so, a slight movement might be seen under the rubble.

    Anyanka opened her eyes only to see darkness again. If she tried to move, she would hit other things. She might realize that she was trapped under several things that were pressing down on her body. And noises. There would be faint noises of horse hooves. And she had to push. To get out of her prison, she had to push and shove. And once she did, she would see a light. A bright sky. . .and light. . .and she was outside.

    “Darkeyes. . .” The same man who had spoken up before motioned to the girl poking out from the rubble. “Someone lived. . .”

    TAG: @HanSolo29, @Obi Anne
  18. spycoder9 Jedi Master

    The Deserts of Mirwyth

    Outer Harbor

    The outer edge of the harbor of Caraba had become that of chaos. The bells warned of a coming attack, one in which the town hadn’t seen for quite some time. The last time pirates had attacked the place, desert knights had already been prepared. Now. . .they were on their own.

    Lorain was prepared for anything. Her hammers in hand, she was in a crowd of screaming people, with almost little to no hope of finding her father. Two men with swords glinting slashed at a maiden girl, catching her in the back. As she went down and collapsed onto the ground, one proceeded to finish her off while the other moved onto others. Lorain might even notice that they weren’t killing the men, simply knocking them unconscious.

    “Look!” A heavily accented voice called out. A different man with a sword pointed to Lorain. “A big ‘un. Let's get ‘im first.” And with that four of the men with swords moved in on Lorain.

    Tytos stood on the harbor, watching the men tie up the captured, when one man in glinting armor leapt out from behind a ship. He wore glinting armor, and his face was almost perfect. A handsome knight, with a long steel sword to match. A natural born hero that people sang about for years.

    “You pirates shall stop this conquest on the innocent men of Caraba or face certain death by my hand.” He smiled, unsheathing his sword and twirling it around.

    “Especially you.” He motioned towards Tytos. None of the other men were particularly close to Tytos, and could intervene as the man began to charge, sword in hand.

    TAG: @Ktala, @PointGiven
  19. Ktala Jedi Knight

    Lorain Ashkey
    The Deserts of Mirwyrth, Caraba
    The Outer Harbor

    The outer edge of the harbor of Caraba had become that of chaos. Lorain searched around frantically but did not spy her father. She decided that the best she could now do, was to leave. Her father could find her easily enough. Lorain began to move, her hammers hidden in her hands, underneath her cloak as she tried to cut a path through the crowd of screaming people.

    Lorain was shocked as she saw two men with swords glinting slashed at a maiden girl, catching her in the back. As she went down and collapsed onto the ground, one proceeded to finish her off while the other moved onto others. Lorain might even notice that they weren’t killing the men, simply knocking them unconscious. So to these vermin, men were more important...but why kill the women? Especially unarmed ones? That made no sense. This was WORSE than the stories she had heard. As she moved threw the area, looking for a doorway she could duck into, she heard a shout near her...

    “Look!” A heavily accented voice called out. A different man with a sword pointed to Lorain. “A big ‘un. Let's get ‘im first.” And with that four of the men with swords moved in on Lorain. Lorain had her hood up. Did they think she was a man? That suited her just fine. They would soon find out their error, with the kiss of her hammers. She backed away, and then she paused, saying nothing, as she checked to make sure none found an easy way to get behind her. She dropped to a low crouch, watching the men carefully. She would wait. One would make a move. These types of dogs all ways did. And when they moved in, they would find out she was not helpless...or unarmed, as they assumed.

    Her arms stayed under her cloak until the last moment. And when they moved in, she was ready. She back kicked the ones trying to come around from behind to flank her, and while spinning, brought up her two heavy and loud spoken companions, Lev and Rav, her twin hammers, the mark of her livelyhood. Arms born swinging them within tempered heat, swung out to catch the foul thieves hopefully unawares, and if the gods be willing, would leave a lasting mark upon them.


    She hoped the guard would arrive soon. Even she knew she could not hold off a large group. But she would teach them not to mess with a weapons smith ...a daughter of the flames.

    TAG: @spycoder9
  20. Trieste Jedi Grand Master

    IC: Ser Lawrence Kildare
    The Prairies of Mirwyth, the Dragonwood, the Farm

    It was a grim duty to attend to the dead, but it was the burden of survival. Blood always came with a price. Perhaps other parts of Mirwyth did not own up to this truth, but the Desert faced it stoically. Ser Lawrence wondered if the acrid smoke that ascended to V’hallar smelled any sweeter to Him than it did to mortals.

    Lawrence had meant what he’d said to the boy, the still nameless boy. This was no place for the living. Not anymore. With duty attended to, Lawrence turned his horse towards the Tower of Stone.

    The Prairies of Mirwyth, the Dragonwood, near a brook

    Their rate of progress towards King Desmond’s keep had been slowed somewhat by the injured members of the party. Already they had seen that one could not know what one would encounter on the road. A rest was required to allow tending to injuries and wounds. Besides, a hasty arrival at the Tower of Stone with a grungy, bleeding contingent would not endear King Mors to King Desmond. Appearances were important…and Lawrence reflected he’d eventually need to get out of this blood stained armor. That could happen tonight. Already his scimitar had been cleaned and returned to its pristine self. Would that it could ever remain that way, but fate seemed to decree conflict, not peace.

    Lawrence had been schooled by habit to appreciate water. Its scarcity determined everything in the desert: how far you could travel with a given set of provisions, where settlements were built, where agriculture took root, who died, who won wars, who amassed gold. Though his face was not bit by sand as it usually was after riding, Lawrence still dismounted, cupped his hands together, and threw water into his face. It was a familiar, blessed relief, even if the sun would usually evaporate the sweet lingering condensation in what felt like less than half a minute. The palms of his hands retained traces of water in their hard lines.

    The priestess said something and Lawrence turned. “I would suggest you see to the knight. His ego may be as bulging as his muscles, but honor and valor run just as high in his veins. He needs some inspiration from the one man he respects more than his father.”

    Rickard had gone off to be with himself, leaving the boy he’d seemingly been shepherding since the battle with Illiza. Strange…he’d been so hostile to her earlier.

    “I think I misjudged you earlier,” Lawrence said as he stood from where he’d crouched by the brook, “My relationship with some members of your order has been…complicated at times. Lucky we are that we should have one of compassion among us for this journey.”

    Lawrence headed into the wood to follow Illiza’s advice, his scimitar tapping his side in rhythm with his steps. If Rickard was grappling with issues from their recent skirmish, it might not be the best idea to approach him in bloodied armor that would no doubt remind him of what’d he’d seen and taken part in. It had been a modest sortie by Lawrence’s standards, not even comparable to the defense of Arqada. But the fire…that had been something terrible. Hellish, even. For the first time Rickard may be discovering that the life of a knight was not all rescuing princesses and having songs sung about you. It was a very lonely realization.

    But as Lawrence stepped through the unfamiliar terrain of the woods, he reflected on what he’d said to Illiza. No, his experiences with the priestesses of V’hallar had definitely been mixed, to say the least. He still remembered that day…the arrogance, the blindness…and the muffled cries of pain. Those events had begun a dark flame burning in House Kildare…and its consequences had been…

    “Ser Rickard?” Lawrence called out.

    TAG: @spycoder9

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