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Fantasy A War of Kings

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by spycoder9, Sep 10, 2012.

  1. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 7, 2002
    Lorain Ashkey - The Desert of Mirwyth - 7 Days
    Outskirts of the Evenfall - Camp

    Fleet and Lorain had quite a night. The grin on his face spoke volumes. Lorain shook her head, as she smiled at him. It was strange to her, that something as simple as a name could mean so much to someone. But that was the difference of being born into a family, unlike Fleet, who never knew where he came from. She would make sure that he would never have to worry about that again. He had a family now. And she had even more of a family now. That thought made her smile even more, as they fell asleep.

    In the morning, Fleet greeted her with a big hug, and an even wider grin. He hummed as he moved around. She chuckled softly and quickly got their breakfast together. Not long afterwards, Fleet and she were busy preparing their gear for whatever the day was bringing them. Excited voices, and the sounds of riders alerted Lorain and Fleet. Then she saw Olyvar runing up towards Caliban's tent. Lorain's face was fully covered now, and she looked over at Fleet who caught her look. She kept her ears open, but not wising to stare, draw attention to herself, continued to work. Caliban soon stepped out in full armor, and instead of inviting the strangers towards his tent, they met near the edge of camp.

    “Ser Caliban,” the stranger dipped his turban wrapped head at their leading knight, his voice muffled. Lorain briefly looked up, and then picked up a pack, to secure it. When Caliban bowed, and responded with “My lord,” she mentally frowned. Something about this meeting rang wrong to her. They spoke, and when they did, she noted that the man seemed to take an interest to Fleet for a moment. Lorain turned away, and continued to listen. She quickly decided that Caliban spoke too much. And then he mentioned the crazed King, and Lorain could not help but noticed the exchange of looks.

    “Then, it is true…” The lord frowned. “The war has come to the Desert.”

    “It has.”

    The next sentence, gave Lorain the identity of the person he was speaking to. “Lord Dondare.” Then Ser Caliban really dropped something that almost floored Lorain. The crazed King had stolen one of this man's family as well?! Perhaps it was accidental, then again perhaps not. But the look from the man's eyes, proved to have hidden a sore spot.

    The man's name was mentioned. Hedric. Perhaps being held at the same place as Willis? It would be yet another name to look for perhaps. Then sir stupid spoke up again. “Your heir is in the clutches of our enemy? If he doesn’t hesitate to cripple entire cities, enslave our men, rape our women, slaughter our children … what do you think he would do to your heir, should he have the opportunity? Or to your lands? Evenfall is only two days ride from the Capital…should he chose to pillage the Desert, who might be the first to fall?”

    Lorain moved to be closer to Fleet during this exchange. Was the Knight TRYING to get them killed? The man has as much tack as a blunt rock, against the skull of a sand viper. This Lord Dodndare seemed to think so as well, as he gave such a long look towards Ser Caliban, that if the man could bust into flames, he should have by now. When he spoke again, his words were full of meaning.

    "I will give you fifty of my men. A small garrison, but enough to return your brother home, Ser Caliban.” He looked up at the sky. “They will join you at the gates.”

    “I thank you, my lord, for-“

    “Do not thank me yet. Your brother is still a prisoner.”

    The lord turned his horse around, as did the men with him, and they galloped back to their lands.

    Fifty men!!! It was growing worse every day. How were they to SNEAK in with such a large group now? Ser Caliban watched them ride off then turned and noticed Lorain was looking towards him. He grinned.

    “Smile, woman,” He said, “It looks like we’ll save my brother after all.” And then he walked off. Then she heard a small whisper from Fleet. She didnt quite make out what he said, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

    Lorain gave him a nod, and then quickly moved to follow Ser Caliban. She did not follow him inside of his tent, but instead spoke loud enough for him to hear her. "When those men join us, I would SUGGEST you not mention I am female. So stop calling me woman." Without even waiting to see if he had anything to say, she turned sharply, and walked away from him, hands flexing as she blew out a stream of air from her lungs. She would have to keep her face covered from now on. And the way those men had stared at Fleet made her just a bit paranoid. But then again, the entire meeting was strange. Perhaps it was the threat of war, but something about those men, made her very wary.

    She really wished she had her anvil right now. She really needed to pound something. Once she caught back up with Fleet, she gestured to him. "Time for me to teach you some hand signs." she offered him a wink.




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  2. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    Fleet Ashkey
    Camp Evenfall, Seven Days before the wedding…

    Fleet looked on stoically as Lorain’s powerful form strode after Ser Caliban.

    “When the men join us, I would SUGGEST you NOT mention I am female. So stop calling me woman.”

    Truth be told, Fleet half-tried to conceal the smirk of satisfaction that began to appear on his face as his mum strode back to his side. He heard her say the words ‘suggest’, but that last part in her delivery was clearly far from that.

    A troubling thought crossed Fleet's mind then and he did his best for it not to show on his face. Why would Ser Caliban continually try to endanger the one person who could lead him to his imprisoned brother, Ser Willis.

    Fleet did not like the implications brought by the possible answers that came to his mind. As Lorain got closer, he brushed such thoughts aside. He would protect her with his life, upon pain on death.

    “That’s telling him…” the young Ashkey said to his mum after he’d turned away from the camp and only she could hear him. He completely understood her position. The unwelcome feeling of vulnerability. He hated it.

    “Time for me to teach you some hand signs.” Lorain offered with a wink. Fleet smiled up at her and made a triumphant gesture. He was good at memorizing hand signs. ‘Snatches’ the former leader of urchin thieves had used them to good effect. How odd it was; that life seemed almost like a dream now.

    True to character, Fleet took easily to learning the hand signs. He was inwardly delighted by such things. To test his retention, the would-be-squire switched to practicing with the ‘crossbow’ which Lorian convinced him he should be proficient in, regardless of his predilections. He did see her point, so he’d conceded.

    After crossbow practice, he reviewed his hand sign lessons to satisfaction.

    Not too far away, Fleet’s sharp blue eyes espied the form of Ser Caliban’s squire, Olyvar.

    “Mum. I’ll be right back.” Fleet said informing Lorain. He gestured subtly towards Olyvar with a hand, so she would see where he was going. Should there be no objections, Fleet would proceed.

    The young boy’s pace was casual and his expression amicable as it had always been.

    “Yu need help with anythin….?”

    He inquired with interest.


    Tag: @spycoder9, @Ktala
     
  3. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 7, 2002
    Lorain Ashkey - The Desert of Mirwyth - 7 Days
    Outskirts of the Evenfall - Camp

    Lorain was walking back towards Fleet when she noticed the look he was struggling to keep off his face. She gave him a nod, but her face was solemn. She was NOT in the mood to deal with Ser Idjit. Now she knew why the female ruler they had met, had stated what she had. This one was a hot head. She wondered if he was that desperate to make a name for himself, that he would do things not wise.

    “That’s telling him…” Fleet told her, making sure he kept his voice down. She nodded once more to him.“Time for me to teach ya some hand signs.” Lorain offered with a wink. Fleet smiled up at her and made a triumphant gesture. So she went over some quick hand signs, including some he might see from the desert folk. She taught him, out of sight of the others, while the others did their daily chores. She also taught Fleet a few special hand signs, in case he needed to be aware of things happening around him quickly. Fleet truly amazed her... then again, that seemed to be his gift. He took to the lessons easily, and quickly learned the patterns she taught him. She kept it simple for now. Fleet was learning something on a daily basis nowadays. His riding had gotten much better, and she had no doubts about his abilities. After all, he had lived on the streets. So she would rely more on his skills now. She just wanted a way to communicate with him, in case things went wrong. It was hard not to feel just a touch of pride, as she watched him garner his new found skills.

    How could someone simply throw such a loving a talented boy away? Lorain could not phantom such a thing. His intelligence was clear, and the fact that he had a surprising cheerful uptake on life, considering what cruelties had been shown to him in his short life so far. The thought made Lorain growl softly, as she thought of her own brother. If anyone had ever put a hand to him, as it seemed some had done to Fleet....

    She pushed the thought away. She would keep em safe. When she looked back over at Fleet, a small smile appeared, hidden by her wrappings. She didnt even have to nudge him to hard about practicing with the crossbow now. He seemed to accept the fact that it was necessary for now. She watched him for a while, checking on his progress, before she turned and went back to her own studies. She found herself a spot, away from prying eyes, and making sure she kept her face covering up, she began to warm up with her hammers. She did not waste time or energies with fast movements, but kept them slow and steady, so that she would not overheat.As she moved, she heard Fleet's voice...

    “Mum. I’ll be right back.” Fleet told her. He gestured subtly towards Olyvar with a hand.Lorain followed the gesture, and then with a nod, continued with her drills. The hammers felt good in her hands. She could fight with a sword, but she really missed her hammers. And if Ser Idjit didnt foul things up, she would finally have the satisfaction of using them on their intended targets. And if these new men that would join them, were anything other than 'noble'.. ..

    Lorain let loose another viscous volley at her imaginary enemies. When she was finished, she looked up towards the open horizon. "Da...continue to watch overs us. I dont trust em. I dont know their metal. Whisper to dem guardians of the flame, and puts in a good word for me, would ya?" Lorain put up her weapons for now, and walked over to find some water, and to see what was next.



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  4. Jabba-wocky

    Jabba-wocky Chosen One star 9

    Registered:
    May 4, 2003
    IC: Ser Aran
    Queen’s Chambers, The Capital
    One Day Before the Wedding

    She was like fae. She was at her window, limned in the glorious afternoon sun, curtains framing her silhouette. Then at the sound of his voice she spun suddenly to life, gliding across the floor as if on the summer’s breeze. But if he’d broken the moment, he disturbed none of its magic. Her smile and tone moved him in ways he could not quite get a handle on. Even their formalities seemed infected with the joy of the moment. It had never been this way with Fenton.

    In fact, it had. The two had discarded formalities altogether on too many occasions to count. They had shared the finest wines and fattest roasts, swam in gold and reclined in luxury. One was determined not to let niceties stop him, the other raised without the idea that any such barriers might exist in the first place. A good pairing, all told. But if technically incorrect, his sentiments steered true. For all their fellowship, it had never quite been so easy. No, his voice had never rang with such pleasure to greet a monarch. He’d never been happier to wear the Reynard crest. He had not so much enjoyed the softness of his wingchair. Never so much as he did now, sitting with Emilia.

    “What is your opinion of the Desert?” she asked.

    The knight cleared his throat. These sorts of issues were always difficult for him. He’d been practicing since last time. “No land of Mirwyth is more misunderstood than the Desert,” he started, putting on his best enunciation, “It is not simply a vast expanse of dunes of sand, devoid of vegetation. There is great beauty there and great wealth.

    We overlook it at our, peril Emilia. The myth of them as tent dwellers hides enormous strength. If we move fast and hard, while they are in their cities, we can make them yield. But if we allow them time to melt into the dunes, Mattheus will never sit secure upon his throne.

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  5. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    7 Days Before the Wedding



    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Iron Crag


    Dining Hall


    “I would have you do what you always do.” His father finished his plate of food off with a final bite. “Listen, and observe, and spread the word, Lord Horn is recruiting men. Sellswords, hedge knights, the like. Any and all who would pledge their swords to a House that seeks the vengeance the Isles have longed for.”

    His face turned solemn.

    "The war is closer than it's ever been, and all Houses run red. Let ours be the first."



    TAG: BartSimpson-SithLord


     
  6. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Delmaristead


    Docks



    “Take him.” She was angry, and that anger brought to her voice a dark twinge that hadn’t been there before. “Take the boy, or I zlay him on the morrow.” With that, she stepped away.

    From the castle, which was barely visible in the fog, three men came on horseback. Lord Tymothi Moorecroft, flanked by guardsmen, was decked in the regal slate grey/dark blue garb of House Moorecroft. He rode down the docks, past a few of the workers, including a man with a shock of blonde hair. Before his horse had slowed, the lord leaped from it and hurried to meet Tuckman halfway.

    “Abott Tuckman?” The lord shook the sailor’s hand. “We are forever in your debt. I’m assured that you have the crates below deck?”



    TAG: Mitth_Fisto


     
  7. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    7 Days Before the Wedding


    The Desert of Mirwyth
    Evenfall


    Beneath the Wall


    Amidst the crumbling mud cottages that had been built in the shadow of the wall around Evenfall, soldiers waited horseback on Ser Caliban’s entourage. They wore black cloaks that rippled purple when the hot air brushed them. The white steeds spotted brown were as patient as their riders, standing and tall and proud beneath their castle. Men and women stood along the sides of their cottages. Sand dotted their hair and their clothes, what little of it they had. Naked children hid behind their mothers’ skirts. They watched the proceedings with wide brown eyes.

    The gates to the inner lands of Evenfall were open, and out from them trotted the Lord Dondare. The same two men from before flanked him. Dondare had changed into thin black robes with a violet turban pulled down around his neck.

    “Ser Caliban,” Lord Dondare called out as he approached. “Cousin of Lady Ginnifer Kildare, the Lady of the Fair Groves, I give to you fifty of my finest men. They are to aid you in slaying the pirates that pillaged Caraba and to help rescue all those enslaved, including your brother.”

    “I can only thank you, my lord.” Ser Caliban, looking his finest in his armor, had already climbed off of his horse. He fell to one knee and lowered his head.

    “Rise,” Lord Dondare hand came out from amidst his robes, dark and brown and weathered from years in the Desert. “Evenfall prays for your success.” The lord’s eyes suddenly looked as tired as his hair, which had streaked with gray. “For all of us,” He added, quieter.

    Ser Caliban nodded. When the knight was astride his horse, he looked out over the fifty soldiers that were to aid him. Finally, he spoke.

    “For the Desert! The Desert! The Desert!” With every chant he pumped his fist in the air. The soldiers began to shout with him, along with the other Fair Groves men. Those in the cottages began cheering. The chant rose to a roar, when finally Ser Caliban pointed his fist south.

    As he kneed his steed on, all the rest did, and they poured forth from Evenfall in a steady rhythm.



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  8. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Abott Tuckman
    The Isles of Mirwyth, Evenfall

    Hearing the Temptress speak without the guile or sultry ways that peeked his young bloods courses to try dormant trails, well, it was a jarring experience. He turned his head and opened his mouth once, then shut it quickly. Feeling his jarred curls bounce upon his cheeks he simply nodded. What else was there to say. The shock of self and the shock of her added to it. It was a difficult thing to bear.

    Watching the Temptress walk away he felt his heart skip a small beat, more so then when the truth of his brush with death upon a night with her had been revealed. Another deal lost, and worthless knowledge gained. The world was truly going mad if that were to be his stock and trade with a boy on the side that might snap upon the morrow.

    Upon the murderous air the sound of hoofs upon the deck long preceded the arrival of yet another royal. Ah, payment. Was their any feet more blessed then those that brought it. Like a summer breeze cool and gentle it balmed his wounds and brought the fresh tug of a smile to his lips as he turned to those yet coming. Why they even knew his name as they plied each others hands.

    "Of course. We lost one vessel to the sea, and one of our own, but we have our loads." he replied softly with a smile and a wave to the ship. He couldn't bring himself to look upon the face of the lad who was now bereft of the title he had known him as forever, instead he kept his eyes upon Moorecroft Purse so deep was this man he looked like the depths of the sea.

    TAG: spycoder9

     
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  9. Master Selkath

    Master Selkath Jedi Knight star 2

    Registered:
    Oct 5, 2013
    IC: Lady Helena Vane
    High in the Mountains
    15 days before the wedding

    Helena looked out at the mountains around them as the group moved along the path. It had been three very long and cold days since they embarked on their journey. Helena hated that the wedding had cut her "vacation" short, but she still had her duties back at Shodaire. She missed the feeling of the silk sheets and rich food of Fort Vane that this cursed trip took that away from her. Now she all she had were worn sheets and rations of bread as her comforts on the trip. The cold wind did not help the group much either. Helena kept all of this to herself. There was no need to make this trip worse by complaining.

    She had a duty, and if that duty meant she didn't have the comforts from the fort, so be it. The group was making good progress, and by Captain Caradas's calculations they would arrive a few days earlier than expected. That at least gave her something to keep her going. The mountain paths were treacherous enough with bandits and natural phenomena that false hope only made the odds of something happening even greater. They all believed they would arrive earlier, but Helena chose to believe that they would arrive on schedule. If they got to Shodaire earlier, so be it.

    The group passed by a man with a turnip cart and, with Helena's approval, paid him a copper for each of the turnips they bought. The group kept moving, but for some reason Helena looked back at the man. It may have been out of gratitude for giving them something else to eat, or even possibly pity for the man, who has to resort to selling turnips to support himself and most likely his family.

    They also passed a widow and her two sons who were most likely going to the village they had seen some time before. The woman was crying softly as her sons comforted her. Helena had in all honesty forgotten how to cry. She had learned through experience that crying was a sign of weakness, whether it be from pain, death, or anything else that might make a person cry. It leaves your guard down, which can be exploited by anyone. The last time she cried was at her mother's funeral, when they put her in the family tomb some forty years prior. She had not cried when her father died, and she certainly did not cry when Saren passed. She watched the widow and her sons fall out of view behind them before turning back around.

    Helena heard a horse gallop up next to her. She turned her head to see who had come next to her and saw that it was Isabella. Her handmaiden had her hood on, which was most likely because of the freezing wind. Helena was rather found of the cold wind, unlike most, but it was definitely cold for someone who wasn’t fond of the cold in general.

    "I can't wait to get back to Shodaire and out of this cold," Isabella said as her teeth clattered.

    "Same here," replied Helena.

    The group continued to move onward. They saw a pack of wolves on a nearby cliff. Helena noticed their grey fur, and how it turned white by the falling snow before they ran off. After that, she noticed how quiet it was. It was quiet enough that if she was to whisper even a single word, it would echo across the mountain range. It was too quiet for Helena. Something felt wrong.

    A crow flew by overhead and it was at that moment that Helena realized what she feared. Something bad was about to happen. Could it have been because of their mindset that they would arrive early? Was it fate, or was it merely by chance that something would happen to the group? She thought about that as the captain and the soldiers exchanged a few words. Then suddenly, as if it had been waiting all along, all hell broke loose.

    The ground rumbled, and then the snow above them began to pour down. The soldier that the captain had told her of his name was thrown off his horse. He knelt in the snow trying to stand. The captain slapped Helena's horse, and it began to run. Isabella's charged the opposite way. Snow engulfed the soldier on the ground. She rode ahead of the captain and the bald soldier that she hadn't gotten the name of.

    Helena's horse began to slow. Right before she was sucked into the snow, the captain grabbed her and yanked her to his horse. She sat behind him. After some time the snow stopped falling and they were able to stop. The mountain side was now covered in a thick blanket of snow. She realized that the bald soldier wasn't with them. He must have gotten hit by the snow sometime before.

    Helena jumped off her horse, with Captain Caradas about to do the same. The ground rumbled again, and his horse threw him. The captain fell hard. His frightened horse ran off he laid still in the snow. Helena ran to him.

    Snow in his hair had turned red. His eyes were vacant and distant, but when they saw Helena, locked on her face.

    “Horse. . .get one. . .” Each word gave a puff of air.

    Helena knew then that their only hope was Isabella’s horse.


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  10. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: The Queen, Emilia Reynard
    The Queen’s Quarters, The Captial
    One Day Before the Wedding


    The Queen narrowed her eyes, her gaze now focused beyond the Knight to the lands beyond the open breezeway as she tried to envision the scene he painted with his words. Misunderstood. The word, moreso than any other he had used, weighed on her heavily. Could it really be that simple? Was that enough to justify their actions and brush it aside?

    No. There was something more at work here. One would not simply set the entire kingdom off-balance and risk war by sweeping the princess of the Mountains out from underneath her son if they were merely...misunderstood. Those sand fleas knew exactly what they were doing.

    “I’m afraid, Ser Aren,” she began, her eyes returning to the man as she crept ever closer to him. “They have already spilled beyond their walls…but somehow, they failed to grasp the concept of melting into the sand.” She allowed herself a small chuckle at the oversight.

    “Fortunately, they have been easy to detect and only this morning, I received word that they have impeded upon our lands – the shores of Shatterstone Bay, to be exact. It sounded to be a fairly small contingent, but they are armed, nonetheless…and dangerous.”

    She was upon him now, imposing on his personal space. “How would you like to pay them a visit?”

    TAG: Jabba-wocky, spycoder9
     
  11. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 7, 2002
    Lor - Lorain Ashkey - The Desert of Mirwyth - 7 Days
    Beneath the Wall

    Lorain took extra care, to make sure she was well covered. She wrapped her turban tightly, and making sure her eyes would almost be covered, except for a direct view. She also reminded Fleet to call her Lor, while those Knights were around. And she hinted to Fleet that perhaps Olyvar might be told as well, to address her as Lor, and to not let the others know she was female. They finished packing, and soon, they joined the other knights as they rode into town. Funny, they did not meet inside the walls, but instead, they were met outside the walls. As Fleet and Lor rode on, she looked at the crumbling mud cottages that had been built in the shadow of the wall. So very different from what the Groves looked like. Then she saw the soldiers.

    The soldiers waited on horseback, and they wore black cloaks that rippled purple. A stark contrast to the white steeds that sat upon. And the town folk had come out to see them off. It was quite a strange site indeed. Then Lor noticed the gates were open. And the three people Fleet and her had seen earlier came out. He also wore the same think black robes, but this time he had pulled his turban down some.

    “Ser Caliban,” Lord Dondare called out as he approached. “Cousin of Lady Ginnifer Kildare, the Lady of the Fair Groves, I give to you fifty of my finest men. They are to aid you in slaying the pirates that pillaged Caraba and to help rescue all those enslaved, including your brother.”

    Lor frowned slightly, and then gently nudged Fleet. She whispered, so that only Fleet could hear her, "Looks like he is making a show of things, yes?" she asked softly. An of course, the Idjit feel into roll Here Caliban sat in his armor, and had climbed off his horse. “I can only thank you, my lord.” He fell to one knee and lowered his head.

    “Rise,” Lord Dondare commanded as his hand came out from amidst his robes, dark and brown “Evenfall prays for your success.” The lord’s eyes suddenly looked as tired as his hair, which had streaked with gray. “For all of us,” He added, quieter. It made the hairs on the back of Lorain's neck rise. Something was very, very wrong with this. And this group was getting much too large. How can you expect to cross a border and NOT notice a group of this size. Lorain would need to keep her eyes open. Ser Caliban however was far too gone, believing on his self importance..and the need to feel that they were doing the right thing. Ser Caliban nodded, and then spoke out over the crowd.

    “For the Desert! The Desert! The Desert!” With every chant the soldiers began to shout with him, along with the other Fair Groves men. Everyone grew into the cheer. Lorain stayed silent, and watched to see if anyone else was not so much into the growing cheer as well. Lorain watched, as Ser Caliban pointed his fist south. And then he kneeded his horse onwards, and the rest began to follow him, as they left Evenfall. Lorain kept a careful check of where the new soldiers were falling into step. She tried to keep Fleet and herself in a careful position, leaving them a way out if necessary. Staying close to Olyvar might become the next option as well. Lorain also decided that perhaps it was time to start getting used to their armor. They had already began wearing it for just a few hours a day, mostly when they had stopped and camped. And a few times, while practicing with their weapons, learning how to move in them. Now, it was time to deal with them while they ride. Lorain put hers own, but she let Fleet decide on his own. Yes, it would protect him, but so would his speed and agility. Unless, a full battle broke out, he might be better served to be quicker on his feet. This trip was getting longer by the moment. She could not wait until the night came, and then the first camp with these new soldiers with them. They both would need to keep alert from here on out.




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  12. BoomBachen

    BoomBachen Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Apr 5, 2014
    Mairar Meade, Son of Darridan Meade Lord of the Misty Top and Commander of the Grand Misty Top Army
    The Mountains, The Misty Top Keep
    “Well that’s seven down. . .” Mairar turned back to the knight accompanying him.

    “We still need to find the odd two,” Ser Talos said. Mairar shot him a disapproving look, though he could not be completely angered. Theywere the ‘odd’ children. Mother was always sick, so a wet nurse was required to take care of the children. Mairar, Sara, and Darros had the luxury of the kind Lady Turnis, who acted as second mother to them. When she was wed and heavy with child herself, Lady Turnis had to leave their service. Her replacement was a young lass that Mairar could barely remember. . .but he did remember how different she was. She raised Arjen and Justile, who became the black sheep of the family. Mairar could not tell if it was she that made them so, or she latched onto them because they were such. But when Father returned from war she was quickly cast out and replaced with Lady Turnis’ sister. Miss Caseen had the pleasure of raising Garron and Cecillia, and the agony of taking care of the twins Dammon and Sierra.

    He followed Ser Talos to the ponds behind the keep, where Justile sat against a tree. She was lightly painting a canvas that sat upon her lap. Mairar could not make out exactly what she was painting.

    “Tell her the news, and you can have a break till’ noon.” Mairar turned and walked himself back into the keep.

    He got word from one of the servants that Arjen had been in the library all day. Mairar walked up the straight stairs and took a left at the split to enter the Meade’s personal library. As promised, Arjen sat on one of the finely carved chairs reading a book the color of blood. Mairar made his way over to his distant brother.

    A History of Legan the Conqueror. . .” Mairar read the title aloud. “Why don’t you read of one of the Meade’s exploits?” Mairar asked. There were plenty of them in their military history.

    “Did you know Legan was the last born son of twelve, and yet he owned the most land of any man before him?” Arjen spoke without looking up from his book. “He revolutionized warfare. He created a way to organize armies as no one had before. We still use half the tactics he created.”

    “Yes. . .” Mairar leaned against the table. “. . .he also believed in butchering the soldiers he captured in battle.”

    “It was a fear tactic,” Arjen replied.

    “It was murder.” There was a moment of brief silence that ended when Arjen closed his book and laid it upon the table.

    “Why are you here?” Arjen asked irritably.

    “I’m here,” Mairar tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “because Father is leaving for Shodaire today.”

    “So?” Arjen reached back for his book.

    Mairar slammed his hand on top of the book and moved it away from Arjen’s reach. “So, he wants his children to see him off. . .even the weird ones.” While Mairar meant that as a joke, he thought the humor may have been lost on his brother. Arjen looked down, obviously annoyed. Mairar hopped off the desk and patted his brother on the back.

    “We don’t have a huge amount of time. He’s leaving at noon.”
     
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  13. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Fleet Ashkey
    Evenfall, Beneath the Wall
    7 days before the wedding


    “It’s as you say, Lor.”

    Fleet nodded in understanding as he tried a more ‘formal’ conversation style. He would address ‘mum’ as he would any other warrior. He also wished he had another name to go by, something which sounded a bit more ‘rugged’. He couldn’t think of one at the moment, but promised himself he’d come up with one soon.

    Just like Lor his face too was covered, however there was no disguising his blue eyes. The good news was, that he was adept at giving a steely gaze. Silently he watched Lord Dondare and his men. ‘Lor’ had corrected his slight mispronunciation the evening prior.

    Fleet found the dark cloaks which rippled purple to his liking, though he questioned the choice of riding white steeds. It would make them easier to spot. Maybe he was missing some detail as why they did this.

    Ser Caliban played his part well, Fleet noticed as he observed the proceeding. There was a lesson to be learned there as well. Everyone had an agenda. Everyone. The question was, if their agenda was in agreement with one’s own and how to go about navigating the circumstances wether both were in agreement or not. Observing the goings on at the market and such places had taught him enough to survive. Even how to spin certain stories to gain an advantage.

    “…I give you fifty of my finest men. They are to aid you in slaying the pirates that pillaged Caraba and to help rescue all those enslaved, including your brother.”

    Under his covering, Fleet bit his lower lip. Judging from Lor’s tale, the pirates were a bloodletting lot. Fleet would be surprised if there were even ten men left to mount a proper rescue for one noble, much less ‘all those enslaved’.

    Besides, whoever was Master to the pirates would not be very pleased by any of it, or just let things be. That’s why he and Lor needed a better plan for themselves.

    “ Evenfall prays for your success.”

    Fleet looked about him. All he saw was crumbling mud cottages, dust encrusted men and women and naked children. Was anyone praying for Evenfall’s success?

    A cry went out and a chant began to rise among the men.

    “For the Desert! The Desert! The Desert!”

    The chant rose to a roar. Everyone was caught up in it. Fleet did not join in and neither did Lor. His blue eyes scanned the party. He was looking to see if Olyvar had bought into any of the ‘noise making’; or perhaps he was pretending to because he had to. Regretably, he hadn’t a chance to speak with the squire at length.

    Within moments, Ser Caliban had given the signal and the entire party began to head south. Given his imagination, Fleet wondered if there was a pirate spy among them. He wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps none were needed with all the noise and dust they were making. Either way, all that mattered was to be ready for the worst.

    Riding with Lor next to him granted him a good measure of comfort and confidence. She looked fiercely determined, which was something he could understand in a way. All she wanted to do was get back home to her family. Now she was riding back to the very people who had captured her. Honor demanded that she did. Strange thing that.

    Fleet looked down and was glad he was at least wearing the chest armor provided by Hektor the blacksmith and the Kildare nobles. He disliked feeling slow, but found the chest armor essential to survival, though he wore no other piece, at least not yet.

    As they rode on, Fleet’s mind worked on reviewing everything he’d learned from Lor, Bren and the others, combat training, survival tips and all. He reviewed Lor’s hand signs as well, and even some of the moves from the young acrobatic girl. Even if he was to never see her again, he was grateful to her. She had taught him something useful, despite their all too brief encounter.

    “For honor….” He found himself saying suddenly, though his words were drowned by the thundering sound of galloping steeds. Even so, it didn’t render them any less significant.

    They were heading south, most likely to their doom as far as he could tell. But they were doomed only if they went in without a plan.


    Tag: @Ktala, @spycoder9
     
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  14. Jabba-wocky

    Jabba-wocky Chosen One star 9

    Registered:
    May 4, 2003
    IC: Ser Aran
    The Queen’s Quarters, The Captial
    One Day Before the Wedding

    Aran listened to his Queen with rapt attention and growing outrage. She was clearly very disturbed by these Desert dwellers. Perhaps in a sense that went beyond their latest incursion. He supposed that their were Mattheus's feelings to consider. In her motherhood, as in most things, Emilia more than brushed against the ideal. But then his reverie broke, because she'd tossed the issue into his lap.

    Massing at Shatterstone,” he started, “ then I no less than others have underestimated how far they were willing to go. Nothing would please me more than a chance to correct my mistake. And a chance to correct there's.

    He was smiling broadly when he finished. His heart was already pumping with the fury of battle. The last few days, he had contorted himself into what was needed. Now, finally, he could return to what he truly was. He reveled in it. It was easy to get lost in those details, and leave the others unstated. That, for instance, she was close enough now for him to notice the warmth of her body. To notice every perfectly coiffed strand of raven-black hair. The two were close enough for their clothing to brush against each other. This close, by her choice, and making no hint of moving away. The knight smiled broadly indeed.

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  15. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Oct 10, 2013
    Leiliana Cane
    Mountain Village
    18 Days Before the Wedding...

    "That sounds splendid!" The girl clapped her hands. At the noise Adeleine dropped her fork again. She seemed to swallow down a remark. Sierida continued as if she hadn't noticed. "You're jittery today, Adeleine."

    The innkeeper's daughter forced a grin on her face as she shoveled the last of her food in her mouth. She took Leiliana's empty plate and piled it atop hers, collecting all their utensils and rising from her seat. "It was nice meetin' you, Leiliana." She took care to ignore the other girl. "Do stay in town awhile."

    "Twas nice to meet you as well, Adeleine. I shall."

    "See ya later Adeleine!" Sierida called as the woman slipped into the back of the store. No reply came. "She must've not heard me." The girl laughed. "Are you ready to go?" Leiliana puzzled for a moment at Adeleine's mood towards Sierida... Looking towards the little one she smiled a bit, "Yes, where to first?" she replied.

    "Wherever you want to go!" The girl grabbed Leiliana by the hand and led her out the inn, into the crisp Mountain air. Women washed their clothes in tubs, men gardened and spoke to one another, while children ran from hut to hut laughing and playing. There were a few of the bearded men who stared at Leiliana for several long seconds as Sierida pulled her along. They went back to talking, though it was awkward nonetheless. "I would take you to my home, but Father's holding a gathering of the elders." Sierida let go of Leiliana's fingers, rubbing her own. "Your hands are so cold! You've got me shivering."

    "I'm used to it by now, I grew up in the high mountains and valley fields," the cold was a bit biting, but this wasn't much further south than her monastery surprisingly, "Only further north of here was I raised." Leiliana followed the energetic girl through the poorly lain stone walkways between wood cabins and stone homes, a few sheds and shacks lay about the town as well. "Well in due time it would be good to see if there's anything I can do for your town," she remarked, helping the poorer inhabitants would be better for everyone, "I was hoping your father could tell me, but if your village has elders I'm sure they could be just as informative, should your father be too busy."

    "They're all busy, always busy." Sierida shook her head. "Enough about them! Tell me about alchemy! Can you make potions?" She stared at Leiliana with her big doe eyes. Leiliana cleared her throat at the little one's adorable and insisting stare, "Hm... I can, what would you like to know? Potion making takes years of study. Before you start with alchemy you must learn botany."

    "Botany. . .that's plants, right?" The girl hurried to the side of the paths, where a spare snowflower or two sprung up from the ground. She picked one and brought it to Leiliana. "You have your plant! Make me a potion!"

    Leiliana furrowed her brow, but managed a slight smile at the girl's energetic curiosity, "Well, first I'd need my lab equipment, then research the properties of that flower. If it hasn't been discovered or been determined not to be useful, I'd have to conduct my research; which means that it might be a long time before I could make a potion." She relaxed but maintained her smile and took the flower from Sierida, "If you say we have time, perhaps we can look into it."

    She let out a squeal of excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

    @Spycoder9
     
  16. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    The Ravenford


    Woods



    Over the two days since riding from Evenfall, the ground had gradually changed from dirt and rock, to mud and mire, until finally they were riding through a copse of tall oak trees that were thick enough to have been there for generations. They had been traveling slow enough as it was, seventy men trying to traverse single-file through the woods. They had crossed over a path at one time, but Ser Caliban refused to take it. At camps, they had to stay quiet, for fear of making their presence known.

    It was futile though, to try and hide seventy men.

    They were spotted thrice that day. Once by a young milkmaid working a cattle. She was pretty enough, but her face was a common one, and when she spotted the horses, she knocked her pail over running back to her cottage. Another time they passed by two hunters. One of the hunters broached to ask in slang who they were, and Ser Caliban told them, “Men searching for pirates”. The hunters shared a laugh and told them to follow the brooks, which would grow into rivers, and then lead to the ocean. The final time they were spotted, it was by a scout. He and Ser Caliban shared a long look, and then he was off, galloping his horse away.

    The look on Ser Caliban’s face afterwards had been that of a sky before a storm.

    It wasn’t long after, as the sun had almost reached the middle of the sky, that they were met by a large entourage of men in armor. At the lead was a man with a mustache as red as his hair. He broke off from his fifteen men, one of whom was bearing a banner with a black raven on a silver field.

    “Who goes there?” The red-haired knight stopped a ways away from Ser Caliban.

    “Ser Caliban,” The Kildare cousin answered, “I ride to rescue my brother.”

    “Purple and black,” The red-haired knight said as he looked over the Dondare men, “House Dondare.” He glanced back to his own men. “These are desertmen.”

    "We are,” Ser Caliban stumbled for words, “We bring no ill will.”

    “You must return with us. The Little Lady’ll decide your fate.”

    “The Little Lady. . .” Ser Caliban said her name slowly, “The Ravenford?”

    “It is, Ser.”

    Ser Caliban turned his horse a bit, to look back over his men. Lorain and Fleet were a ways back, but not too far that they couldn’t hear the entire exchange. He exchanged a glance or two with Ser Garvis Heedwater, one of the Evenfall men who had given Ser Caliban close council. He had also been one of the only men who insisted that Ser Caliban listen to Lorain’s advice and stay a small force. Ser Caliban refused.

    “We’ll go to the Ravenford, as long as you promise us safe harbor.”

    “They are a hundred of you, and fifteen of my men. I think you shall be harboring us.” The red-haired knight’s mount shifted beneath him.

    “Come on.” Ser Caliban grumbled, and then nudged his horse forward. Behind him, the rest of his men did the same.

    “The Ravenford. . .” Olyvar whispered the name from his position beside Fleet and Lorain. “I can’t place the name, but it's the Capital." His face paled. “V’hallar have mercy on us all.”




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  17. BartSimpson-SithLord

    BartSimpson-SithLord Manager Emeritus star 5 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Jan 24, 2002
    IC: Elric Cliffe, The Isles of Mirwyth
    Iron Crag, Dining Hall


    “I would have you do what you always do.” Elric grinned at these words. What he always does is one of Elric's favorite forms of entertainment. The perks of being a bastard, especially one as unseen as himself, were twofold. He could do things others wouldn't dare and his hidden connections kept him out of trouble for the most part.

    “Listen, and observe, and spread the word, Lord Horn is recruiting men. Sellswords, hedge knights, the like. Any and all who would pledge their swords to a House that seeks the vengeance the Isles have longed for.” Elric's grin grew toothier and even more sinister at the mention of sellswords and hedge knights. This meant moving about the land, finding the downtrodden and promising them coin so that they die for House Horn and the house never has to pay them. You sell them a lie, gain their weapon, and them pocket the front lines with them. If they survive and you win, then they're the only ones who were actually worth the gold you sold them. This confidence game was one Elric had always liked playing at, but had never truly had the opportunity to try on a grand scale. This war was seeming to promise him that reward.

    "The war is closer than it's ever been, and all Houses run red. Let ours be the first."

    He nodded at his father's words. Once again with the House Horn motto, if you were required to work that into normal conversation as a lord perhaps Elric didn't want to be legitimized after all. He held up the remnants of his own glass of wine, "To House Horn and the vengeance of the Isles, and let all the others learn to fear the Iron Crag," he announced before swiftly downing the rest of his drink and slamming the cup to the table. "Now, if we are finished, father, I have some...business to check on," he mentioned, using a euphemism to hide the celebratory torture he was to inflict on their guest Lark from the King.

    TAG: spycoder9
     
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  18. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Breezecroft


    Docks



    “Breezecroft could never thank you enough. But this might help.”

    The Lord gestured to his two accompanying men. From their saddlebags they pulled massive sacks that clinked and clattered as they hit the deck.

    “I think you should find these to your liking. . .”

    He opened one of six and let Abott glance inside.

    It was all coins.

    Gold coins.



    TAG: Mitth_Fisto

     
  19. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Fleet Ashkey
    The Ravenford Woods

    Two days.

    Two days of incessant dirt, grime and muck. By the time they came to the woods, Fleet was past caring. He generally liked wooded areas, but his state of mind was dour. He’d even forgotten all the questions he was supposed to ask. In truth, Lorain and Olyvar were his sole reminders that this was no waking nightmare, one he literally wished he could wake up from. The fact that their traveling party had been spotted, not once, not twice, but thrice, didn’t make matters any better.

    “Sum great advent’ur this is…”

    He watched Ser Caliban engage in a staring contest with a man on his horse.

    “Sod should jus blow a bloody trump and herald us for all to see…” the would-be squire breathed out sourly under his breath. Only then did he realized that Olyvar might have heard his words and he did regret them. Fleet chanced a furtive glance, but Olyvar rode on as if naught was amiss.

    Truth be told, Fleet was not at all surprised when he did see numerous men in armor riding in their direction. He even wondered why they hadn't come sooner. Still, Fleet's eyes flicked to Lorain. He was getting anxious, and reflexively reached underneath his tunic for a weapon, but he looked about him, at Lorain and at Olyvar. He would follow their lead. If they remained calm, then he had no reason to expect trouble, at least not at first.

    Fleet’s blue eyes narrowed as he watched the armored riders approach. One of their number broke off and trotted forth. Fleet counted around a dozen or so, since there were more than ten fingers worth, and just about three hands. The red haired man, a knight by the looks of him, carried a banner which looked vaguely familiar. A black raven on a shiny field. Fleet couldn’t quite recall where he’d seen it before, or if at all.

    Though he was a bit of a distance away, no one else spoke. Straining to listen, he caught a good portion of the conversation between Sir Caliban and the red haired knight.

    Apparently, they were all thought to be from House Dondare and not House Kildare. Apparences were deceiving, especially since most of the men were Dondares.

    “…nou you’ve done it.” He heard himself whisper. “He thinks we’re all Dondares…”

    Well, at least the man was correct. They were all desert folk. Fleet was an Ashkey now, so his lot was with Lorain.

    “We bring you no ill will.” He heard Caliban say. Fleet had to wonder about that.

    “You must return with us. The Little Lady will decide your fate.”

    The Little Lady… Fleet thought. The way Ser Caliban repeated her name made his stomach sink. Fleet looked to Lorain, seeking some sort of clarification.

    The Ravenford? What did that mean?

    There was some muttering and some talk about who was harboring whom.

    Well, the rescue party had been noticed, but at least these were not enemies…for the moment.

    “Come on.” The impetuous Kildare cousin grumbled. At his behest, his company of riders followed.

    Fleet was almost frozen in place. Not by anything their foolhardy leader did, but by the uttering of his squire.

    “The Ravenford….” Olyvar whispered ominously. Fleet felt a chill run down his spine.

    “I can’t place the name, but it’s in the capital.”

    The squire’s face went visibly pale, Fleet felt his confidence being challenged, so he looked to Lorain once again.

    “V’hallar have mercy on us all.” Olyvar lamented.

    At that pronouncement, Fleet began to mutter a prayer under his breath.

    Olyvar was Ser Caliban’s squire and by far seemed the wiser of the two. If the mere mention of this ‘Ravenford’ gave him pause, then they could ill afford to ignore this. After his short prayer, Fleet quickly made a hand sign to Lor.

    WE NEED A PLAN.

    The company of horses moved forward, all in unison and unknowing of their ‘fate’.


    Tag: @Ktala, @spycoder9
     
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  20. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Abbot Tuckman
    Docks, Isles of Mirwyth - Breezecroft

    Seeing that the Purse was truly deep he could not help the slight gape in his mouth. There was enough bags of gold for all, "My cut or for all?" he simply stated. It was a key point to make. No matter how much the mark. . .the customer, volunteered in payment, especially through a mediator, always check that no lines were blurred and no balances were being cut short. After all, as the lead it was your cut that always suffered for it in the end.

    Another was that he moved toward a bag that wasn't opened for him. Check something not put forward, it was easy enough to fill a back with shards of worthless ingots to bring the sound of money in a bag not given. Not to mention, a purse was a strange thing that often did not like to give up what it has once swallowed.

    TAG: spycoder9
     
  21. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    IC: Lady Ginnifer Kildare
    Alcazar, Kalkheim, Fair Groves, Desert
    Four days after her brother’s wedding


    “M’lady! M’lady!” Sophee called out as she hurried across the stones of the garden, one hand hitching her skirts up, the other clutching something excitedly.

    Ginnifer looked up from her reading. Even though there were matters of state that always required attention, she still indulged in some leisure time and reading was how she spent much of it. The study of history was her most frequent pursuit and it was a useful one, drilled into her by her mother.

    “Even after generations, men will still underestimate us and that includes our knowledge of history. They will try things on the Fair Groves that they would never have the sense to try on any other house of note in Mirwyth. Know your history and you will see many of their traps well in advance.”

    “What is it?” Ginnifer said, snapping the book shut with her good hand.

    “It’s Ser Lawrence! He wrote to you!” Sophee said, just about bobbing with excitement. Ginnifer was not going to be so tactless as to ask how an illiterate lady’s maid could know that, but her question was answered without delay. “The man in the roost said it’s his hand!”

    This had been a busy period for news--but then again insurrection and rebellion had a tendency to produce lots of newsworthy events. However, things had been particularly busy lately. Her Father becoming King of the Desert, but no word since the messenger arrived. The death of Fenton and the coronation of Matheus had been another shock. Then word of King Nathan of the Islands’ death. His daughter had ascended the throne the bulletin said--but no one in Kalkheim knew of a daughter in House Delmaristead. It was a puzzler. And no word about Caliban’s expedition to rescue Willis. That was troubling. Perhaps no news meant that all had gone well...but not knowing still did not sit well with Ginnifer.

    Word from her brother, however, trumped all of that.

    Ginnifer took the roll of paper from Sophee. The seal was still intact, as it should be. Ginnifer broke it open and read.

    Ginnifer,

    I find myself with idle time for the first time since my arrival here. How ironic it should come the morning of my wedding when one would think I would have no time. It seems the appropriate thing for a groom to do is sit and wait interminably. I have no doubt you shall torment your future husband similarly.

    Princess Safia is kind and fair. We have become acquainted with each other over these last few weeks and the impression she has made is positive. She possess intelligence and has flashes of independence. She will fit in well at Kalkheim once she acclimates to the clime. Indeed, this will be the best thing for her. I fear the cold--and it is cold, Ginnifer--freezes the spark of brilliance inside of her, or perhaps it is just her family. Truth be told, even with study of the Mountain houses, I cannot keep track of everyone. I haven’t the slightest idea who is related to whom here, but King Desmond seems to have many allies.

    Unfortunately, so does Fenton. Word of raids and assaults throughout the Mountains have reached us at Shodaire. I can only hope that Fenton has not begun raiding the Desert. I fear for the Fair Groves as I am at such a distance. How curious that it seems that Desmond has more need of our alliance at the moment than we have of his.

    I am now told by Miche that I will be required soon. It appears the hour is upon me now. Thank you Ginnifer for sending me here. I had resigned myself to a life of solitude. I had even looked forward to it. But Safia has awakened in me a realization of what more life can offer when one finds a kindred soul. I hope that you will one day share the joy that I am to shortly experience.

    With great love,

    Lawrence


    “Well, what does it say?” Sophee asked as Ginnifer looked up. The Lady of the Fair Groves was sure that Sophee had looked over the parchment herself as Ginnifer had read, though to no avail.

    “Ser Lawrence finds the Princess Safia to be a most fitting bride. This was written not long before his wedding and sent to us,” Ginnifer said, “He thinks that she will be a great addition to the House.”

    “Does she say what she looks like? I bet she’s so beautiful,” Sophee mooned, “They say the Mountain people have sharp features, like rocks, and skin like snow.”

    “He does not, other than to say she is fair. Coming from Lawrence, that’s worth a poem from any scribe,” Ginnifer said, “He’s not one to spill a lot of ink on such things. I think you can trust she’s no hag.”

    Sophee sighed pleasantly. “How different it will be to have a Mountainwoman here.”

    “Yes, quite different,” Ginnifer said. But good for us. Desmond will protect his daughter at any cost, Ginnifer thought, She will be our guarantee that he shall help us if anyone, especially the Capital, ever moves against us. And when she produces a child, the bond shall be even tighter between our houses.

    “Quite different,” Ginnifer repeated.

    With Safia Kildare in their fold, Fenton dead, and her father as King of the Desert, perhaps the Fair Groves would be more secure than they had been since this battleless War of Kings had started.

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  22. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    18 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Mountain Village


    Streets


    The day passed slowly, as Sierida and Leiliana wandered the village searching for different plants to use.

    Sierida introduced Leiliana to a gaggle of children, all of whom regarded her with wide eyes when Sierida told them they were making a potion. They all tried to speak at once, though Sierida gave seniority to one of the bigger boys. A scar had destroyed one of his eyes.

    “You really one a them wizards?” His good eye was filled with skepticism. “I thought they’s all men.”



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  23. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Oct 10, 2013
    Leiliana Cane
    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Village Streets

    Leiliana let Sierida lead them around, greeting villagers as they went along, and each time there was a particularly beautiful flower the little girl didn't hesitate to pluck it from the ground and ask about it excitedly, reminding Leiliana much of herself when she was that age. Though less demanding and impulsive. Eventually, she might learn, just as Leiliana had; that to study a plant doesn't require you to go ripping it from the ground....

    The day went on and the village children began to take interest in Leiliana as well, they all seemed to know Sierida, and became even more interested when she excitedly shouted about making a potion. Leiliana continued to be patient with the energetic child, though her whole life she had always been the youngest person present at the monastery. Sierida was able to settle the children and an older boy spoke up, his eye was scarred, Leiliana wondered for a moment but kept her bearing. She didn't want the boy to get upset about his eye.

    "You really one a'them wizards?" His eye read skepticism, his voice as well, "I thought they's all men."

    "Well, the Order of Avos is not of wizards, we are monks," she explained calmly, "And until I arrived, they were all men." It did puzzle her why no women attempted to live amongst the Order and become a monk, but the answer came in the boys question, it's likely that the widespread knowledge of them is they only allow men to join. Seemed logical enough.

    TAGS: spycoder9
     
  24. BoomBachen

    BoomBachen Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Apr 5, 2014
    Combined post with Spycoder9

    Mairar Meade, Son of Lord Darridan Meade
    The Main Gate, Misty Top Lands, the Mountains


    The Main Gate rested at the very edge of Misty Top. Outside those large wooden barricades was a steep path that wove around the mountain in circles. The mountains in this area had a sandstone look to them, though they still never failed to be topped by snow every winter. The final few snows of the season had been making their rounds, and spring was nigh on the horizon. It had already broached the Capital and the Desert, and there were a few signs that things were warming up at Misty Top. Lord Darridan even made evidence of it in his attire, thin woolen pants and a silver doublet. He did have a short blue cloak thrown across his shoulders, with their house sigil displayed proudly. The lord stood near the gate with his speckled steed and a small force of men. The steed was one of his prize possessions, a gift from one of the smaller Desert houses. Rumors ran rampant when it had first arrived that he planned on giving one of his daughters away to them. But none of the daughters ever leftMisty Top, and the rumors slowly died away.

    Mairar stood on the edge of the path, gazing down the twisting sandstone to the commoners. Many of the commonfolk had come out to bear witness to their Lord's departure. While his lord father ruledMisty Top with a tight fist, he still allowed enough kindness for his people to care for him and his family. The miller and his wife, Gessa the milkmaid, Hecktor over the horses, Tom the stable boy. . .the list went on and on. Mairar smirked when he caught a glimpse of the old Inn Keeper’s wife, Misen, handing her baby to the Inn Keeper while she readjusted a piece of her clothing. Mairar did his best to keep his laughter to himself.

    He glanced to his right and sighed. The only siblings to show up were Arjen, who Mairar believed had never been late to anything in his life, and Darros, who was talking to Hanna. Her hands fumbled a bit as she tied the crimson sash across Darros’s waist. It marked him as a Lieutenant, the lowest rank Father was willing to give someone with his last name.

    "Do you know how to tie it?" Darros asked her.

    Hanna smiled. "My father used to have me tie his, before he gave up on it." She spoke without looking up. She finished tying it off and then put her hands on his shoulders. "There." It seemed like the sash was the only piece of clothing Darros was wearing correctly. Not that Mairar could precisely tell what was wrong, it just seemed that his clothes were . . .off.

    Next to each other, they seemed a little odd. Darros had a lean build and an average chin for a male, with a blue cloak over his clothes that had brown bear fur lining it. Hanna was short, even shorter than the average maiden, with a tiny chin and a round face. Her hair was especially curly when compared to the Meade's wavy locks, and she had the **** brown eyes all the Bodderly's shared. Also, being a Bodderly, she wore a green dress that stood out not just next to Darros, but in the entire city of the Misty Top.

    "Mairar," His father approached him slowly. "You did a fine job of gathering your siblings, it seems."

    Mairar could not tell if his father’s comment was a slight or a joke, so he simply gave a cautious smile. He began to speak, but behind his father he noticed Sara leading Cecillia by the hand. They stepped through the crowd, followed by the watchful eyes of all the men and the hitting from their wives for doing so.

    “There's Sara and Cecillia. That's majority at least." Mairar said.

    "The majority, yes. Not all." Darridan turned away and approached his daughters. Sara gave him a pleasant smile, while Cecillia giggled. He kissed each of them on their hand, before leading them back towards Mairar. "Five of you are here. Where might the rest of you be?"

    Mairar's face began to turn red, so he faced Darros. His brother was fidgeting with his collar while Hanna fumbled with the back of it. It seemed as if she was trying to make it stand up properly.

    "Darros, have you seen the others?" Mairar asked.

    Darros was all too happy to answer. "No, No.” He was obviously enjoying Mairar’s squirming. “I haven't, brother.”

    Their father gave a disapproving stare at the comment.

    "Father, I believe-" Arjen was interrupted by the arrival of another brother.

    Garron jogged up, giving a large smile to their father. "F-Father! S-Ser Jonsin let me p-practice archery!' the boy stuttered enthusiastically.

    "You did a fine job of it, I imagine?" Darridan smiled and ruffled the lad's hair some.

    "At f-f-first I messed up bu-but then Sammy showed me a trick and I was hitting th-the-the middle!" Garron’s words got tangled in his excitement. Mairar gave a small chuckle.

    Mairar spotted Justile strolling down the street with her servant in tow. It seemed like the two of them were engaged in light chatting. Sarine had always been more like a companion to Justile than a maid, but there were a few instances that the divide became evident. They didn’t even look that much different, with their long blonde locks tied back in similar styles. As they came nearer, Mairar noticed the similarities of how Justile and Sara dressed, including the style of hair. It seemed Justile still hadn't gotten over her habit of copying their sister.

    "So now we're missing just-" Arjen was quickly cut off again, this time by Darros.

    "--the twins, yes." Darros looked out to the crowd.

    In the distance, Mairar thought he could hear some sort of commotion. From the commonfolk emerged a stone-faced Ser Minter, carrying one of the twins in each arm. Sierra was noticeably putting up a fight, but she was too small to really get anywhere. Dammon simply hung by his jacket and clutched onto his stuffed pet.

    "Sierra!" Darridan's voice was both quiet and loud, cutting through the crowd as easily as a sword might. "Sierra, calm down, this instant!" He strode to meet the knight at the edge of the crowd. The lord took Sierra from the knight and stood her in front of him, crouching down to meet her eyes. "You are making a scene."

    "We're already in a scene Father. You're the one that made it." The young girl brooded.

    "Why were you causing Ser Minter such a problem?" Darridan asked her, choosing to ignore her vehement words for the moment.

    Sierra's face wrinkled. She answered with a simple: "We were just playing!" She leaned in to whisper, “And he smells.” though it seemed Ser Minter could still hear her.

    "Never woulda been able to get the little brats if Dammon hadn't dropped his damned toy and gone back for it,” The knight grumbled. Dammon stood off to the side clutching onto his toy dog.

    "Dammon, wouldn't you like something older. . .maybe like-" Mairar started, but the moment he made a reach for the dog, Dammon let out a little yelp and turned away, hugging it even tighter.

    "Don't even try," Darros said without looking up from lacing his boots.

    "You'd sooner depart him of his clothes than of that dog." Sara spoke in a kinder tone.

    "We'll depart him of both if he can't get rid of the toy soon enough," Darridan looked to Mairar. "Along with everything else I've tasked you with, work on getting Dammon interested in other things beside his toy. He is a Meade. It's time he acted like one, as all of you boys had too." Then the lord glanced at Sierra, finally sighing. "Sometimes, I swear, you act every bit like your mother."

    Before the event could get somber, Sara came in. "Shouldn't you be on your way, Father?"

    "Want me gone so soon?" He laughed and kissed her glove. "Help your brother. Help all of them."

    "I'll try my hardest." She gave her own beautiful grin. It lit up her bright green eyes most pleasantly. "You know how hard of a task that is."

    "One of the hardest." Darridan gave his eldest daughter one final kiss on the top of her head. For a moment, it seemed as if her eyes might be watering. But then it was gone, blinked away, and all that was left was the steely resolve of a Meade.

    "And when you return, we will be wed. . .correct Father?" Darros asked while gesturing towards Hanna. She clung to his arm as a child would. Mairar guessed it must be somewhat intimidating to have a warlord have such distaste towards you. Meanwhile, Mairar started to guide the rest of his siblings into line, by age which if wasn't for Arjen behind Sara would also be by height. Darridan stared at Darros for several painstakingly long seconds.

    "Yes," He finally said, "You'll wed her, and bed her, and be done with the whole matter." His words, while rather cold, were warm compared to the icy glare he gave Hanna.

    Darros gave a forced smile and stepped back into the line with his siblings. The Meade children stood proud and firm by their birth date. The crowd began to grow silent and turn their attention towards the family.

    "Good people of Misty Top," One of the guards announced, "I present the family of House Meade, and its lord, Darridan."

    Mairar's father gave the masses a wave. "I depart today for the royal wedding of Princess Safia, daughter to our king, and Ser Lawrence, eldest brother to the Lady of the Fair Groves. It is a wedding to honor the unification of the Mountains and the Desert against a common foe, the Capital." Darridan looked to Mairar. "In my absence, I leave Misty Top and all its people in the hands of my eldest son, Mairar." The father took his son's hand and raised it high. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

    Darridan took his eldest son by the shoulders. "I trust you. Don't fail me."

    "Don't worry Father, I won't," Mairar said. His father held his gaze for a moment, then patted him on the shoulder.

    "Obey your brother," He spoke to the other eight children. "Any disobedience, and I'll deal with you when I return." His eyes rested on Sierra longer than the others. Darridan finally kissed the top of her head, and went down the line of his children, embracing some, kissing cheeks, shaking hands.

    Dammon was wiping tears from his cheeks when his father came to give him the final goodbye. "Be strong, son." Darridan ruffled his youngest child's hair before turning back to his horse. When he was finally astride the stallion, and his men having climbed on their steeds as well, the lord gave Mairar a final salute.

    As Darridan and his men began to trot towards the gate, the throngs of women in the crowd began to wave their handkerchiefs as they always did when the soldiers left the gates. Unlike the various shades of blue that most of the crowd adorned, it seemed no two women had the same color. It was quite a sight, these thousands of women with each their own color waving to their leaving Lord. Mairar was sure that from the top of the keep, this would be quite the spectacle.

    Darros began to fidget where he stood. Mairar guessed his brother’s attention span had been tested, and he could no longer help himself. Mairar placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and looked at him. "Just a few more moment till Father’s out the door. You can wait."

    The entourage departed out the castle gates, as trumpets blared and the crowd cheered. When the last rider was out, the gate began to slowly close back. The trumpeting ended and many of the people began to head back to their homes, or back to their places of work.
     
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  25. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 7, 2002
    "Lor" - Lorain Ashkey
    The Ravenford Woods - 4 Days Before the Wedding


    The man is an idiot.

    For two days, Lorain chanted this thought into her mind, during the day as they rode. After they had been joined by the new warriors, which Lorain did her best to stay far away from, they had watched the terrain change from desert to dirt to rocks, mud and mire, to a forest of tall trees. And they traveled single file, as if THAT was to magically change the fact that they now looked like an invading force, instead of a rescue missions.

    Their first knight of camp, after Lorain had relaxed inside of their tent, she spoke softly to Fleet, using hand gestures as well, as she spoke. "We are too big a group. "Dat fool listens to no one." she hissed softly to Fleet. "So we shall need ta keep our eyes open, and our wits sharp." She said with a slight grin. "We big enough, someone gonna notice soon. And dey dont gonna think we just a friendly group, not with so many warriors. Just hope Fenton or any of his idiots not in immediate area. They might think we here for something else." Lorain leaned back, sighing softly.
    Lorain had heard Fleets grumbling as they traveled. Not that she could blame him. They could not relax as they had earlier. Now that they were all but surrounded by these new men of Dondare, that was pretty much impossible.

    "I wonders if Da Lord of House Dondare knew what he was doing." Lorain had muttered softly, but didnt explain the comment. She just simply fixed their dinner, and went to sleep.

    The next day grew worse. They were spotted not by one or two, but THREE different people. A poor milkmaid, who they scared to death. Then, they were passed by some hunters. The final time they were spotted, it was by a scout. He and Ser Caliban shared a long look, and then he was off, galloping his horse away.

    Lorain signed to Fleet to expect more. That ones gonna report for sure. The look on Ser Idjits face seemed to confirm it. Near the time for mid day meal, was when it happened. Many men, in armor. A man, she gussed was the leader, broke away from the other men. LOTS of men. More that Lorain could immediately count. A banner with a black raven on a silver field moved in the wind. Lorain did not know that emblem. It was not the one of Reynar, which was all she cared for at the moment.

    Ser Caliban moved out to talk with them.

    Lor just listens from a distance, as does Fleet. Olyvar is nearby. Sir Idiot tells them he is there to rescue his brother. The men immediately notice the purple and black of House Dondare. And the way the other man announces that they are desertmen, does not sound hopeful. The mans next words are rather cryptic to Lorain. “You must return with us. The Little Lady’ll decide your fate.” But it is obvious that Ser Caliban knows it. And his response is not at all hopeful. “The Little Lady. . .” Ser Caliban said her name slowly, “The Ravenford?”

    Ser Caliban turned his horse a bit, to look back over his men.

    'IDIOT!' Lor tried her best to not glare at the man, who's neck she would love to wring right now.. Sir Caliban tells the man, "We’ll go to the Ravenford, as long as you promise us safe harbor.” The man replied. “They are a hundred of you, and fifteen of my men. I think you shall be harboring us.” From what?, was Lorain's thought.

    Lorain whispered softly to Fleet. "Bet there is more than dat, nearby. Ya not comes to meet a large group of armored men, riddin short." she told Fleet. Sir Idiot didnt seem happy, but he turned his horse to follow the new group of men. “The Ravenford. . .” Lor tunred as Olyvar whispered the name from his position beside Fleet and Lorain. “I can’t place the name, but it's the Capital." His face paled. “V’hallar have mercy on us all.” Fleet began to mutter a prayer under his breath. Fleet quickly made a hand sign to Lor.

    WE NEED A PLAN.

    "I know." she answered him softly. "But till we finds out more, not much we can do now." She added with a few gestures.../WE TRY TO RUN, THE WILL TAKE THAT AS BAD ACT. KILL. WE MUST WAIT, AND SEE/

    Lorain looked over at Olyvar. "Ya knows anything about the one called 'The Little Lady?' Or dis area in general?" she asked him, as they rode along. She leaned over to Fleet. "Keep eye on direction they be taken us.." She paused, and then whispered to him. "If anyone asks, Lor is your guardian. For now."

    For the most part, Lor simply moved along with the others, keeping Fleet as safe as she could while they rode. She also hoped that Ser Idjit did not immediately throw them into the fire as soon as he could get the chance.




    Tag: greyjedi125, spycoder9
     
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