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  1. Welcome to the new boards! Details here!

Fantasy A War of Kings

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

  1. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    15 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    High in the Mountains


    Passes



    The avalanche had ran its course by the time Isabella returned.

    Her mare was panicked, but she continuously ran her fingertips through its mane. The motion seemed to comfort the frightened beast. Once she had her horse under control, Isabella leaped off and fell beside the Captain.

    “His. . .he hit his head. . .” The young woman raked back some of the man’s hair. “Oh by the gods. . .” The maid whispered, her voice the only sound in the area.

    Isabella looked to Lady Heather. Her brown eyes were wide circles on her bloodless face.

    “I. . .I can see his bones. . .”

    All the Captain did was moan.



    TAG: Master Selkath
     
  2. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 24, 2004
    OOC: And back to the gala flashback again. Combined with spycoder, with an additional appearance by Trieste at the end.

    IC: Safia Rolmar
    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Shodaire, the Tower of Stone
    Dining Hall—the night before her wedding

    Safia instantly recognized her new dance partner, and her smile widened. "Hello, Samule."

    "Pleased to see me?" Her cousin chuckled.

    "Am I ever not, cousin?" she answered light-heartedly.

    "No," he kidded, "No one's ever displeased to see me."

    'Milady fair, milady's hair . . .' The song rushed along. Lendan Tanderly was roaring about something, a hand on his gut. Karridan and Caetherene spun in a quick circle, whispering into each other's ears. Ser Lawrence even swept by with one of the little servant girls. He smirked at Safia over Samule's shoulder before he was gone again.

    "I don't believe I've seen so many lords of the mountains together. . .in my lifetime," Samule was watching their fellow dancers as well.

    Safia had returned Lawrence's smile when she happened to catch his eye, before Samule's remark drew her attention back to him. "I don't think I have, either," she agreed.

    "Have you spoken to my betrothed?" Samule looked across the floor, where Brynna Maegorian sat munching on pie and laughing at her friend. "She's beautiful and innocent enough, though maybe too much in some ways."

    Safia followed his gaze, and a hint of sadness crept back into her smile. Brynna, like young Camaron, would loose that happy innocence in the hard days of war that were looming. "Don't complain," she teased. "With a war coming, she won't be so innocent for much longer."

    "None of us will," His smile had turned wistful. "This wedding is heralding the end of our innocence, isn't it?"

    Now she frowned at him. "Nice to know that you see my wedding as such a positive thing," she said, rather sarcastically.

    "It's the last positive thing. When the flower has been plucked," He patted her hand, "the grass goes to war."

    Her frown softened, but now she wished she hadn't brought up the war. Even though she couldn't seem to manage to get it out of her thoughts, it wasn't something she wanted to dwell on, especially tonight. So she changed the subject. "How is Brynna getting along with Synthia?" she asked.

    "She gets along with Synthia as well as anyone gets along with Synthia." Samule grinned. "Which is not very much at all."

    Safia gave a little chuckle. "Well, the Maegorians raise their women to be tough, so I imagine Brynna can hold her own against Synthia."

    "Of course she can. I'm curious about House Maegorian. . .they seem like an interesting family to be married into."

    "They do indeed. But you could do far worse than Brynna Maegorian, as far as potential brides go."

    "Have you seen the Bodderly girl?" Samule faked gagging himself. "I'd smother myself in her bosom. Her father tried and tried to marry her to me, but Father wouldn't have it. Now she's betrothed to one of the Meade boys, if I'm not mistaken. Pity for him."

    Safia shook her head, partly in answer to his query and partly in disapproval of the way he spoke of the Bodderly girl--Hanna, she thought her name was. "I don't know her well, but it is unkind to speak of her so, no matter what she looks like. Appearances are not everything."

    "I bet Ser Lawrence might have something different to say on it." He winked. "Lucky you're as beautiful as you are, cousin."

    She cocked an eyebrow at him, briefly glancing over towards her betrothed before returning her gaze to Samule. "I should hope that Ser Lawrence sees more in me than just my beauty," she remarked.

    "Oh, don't get me wrong, wit and strength and kindness are all good and well qualities. But when it comes down to your wedding day, and you're standing beside the person you're to be with for the rest of your life, a pretty face is all you can see. A pretty face and a waist to fit your hands around." Samule laughed. "Ser Lawrence is lucky to have found not only that beauty, but all the rest with it. And perhaps I am just as lucky."

    "I hope you are." Looking over to Brynna, still laughing with her friend, Safia modified the statement. "I think you are."

    Samule didn’t have a chance to reply; as the song ended, Samule’s betrothed, Brynna, appeared a few feet away, and noting the younger girl’s hopeful expression, Safia relinquished her dance partner with a polite smile and nod. After briefly returning to the tables for a refreshing glass of wine, Safia began to quietly prowl the edge of the dance floor. Karridan was still dancing with Caetherene, Ectarion appeared to be deep in conversation with his partner, a young lady whose name Safia could not recall, and Desmond was talking with Lord and Lady Tanderly. Both Miche and Ser Rickard were sitting by one of the many fires, making merry with their Desert comrades, though Safia could not tell if Lawrence was amongst them. And though he looked less than comfortable dancing with his mother, Lady Idina, even young Lord Cameron Hadlex was occupied.

    It looked as though she might be sitting out this dance.

    "I think a little bit of practice for tomorrow might be in order, don't you?" a voice said from behind Safia.

    It belonged to Lawrence, who had extended his hand towards his betrothed.

    "May I have the pleasure?" he asked.

    She smiled and accepted his hand. ''Certainly."

    TAG: None (TBC)

    And because I finally remembered to post it: Safia’s Gala dress
    http://www.dolldivine.com/LotR-Hobbit/JessAnne-2828974
     
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  3. deathlyxburgers

    deathlyxburgers Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Jun 16, 2014
    GM Approved
    Name: Robin Lorrell
    Age: 19
    Gender: Male
    Appearance: He is 5'6, with brown hair and brown eyes. With archery as a hobby, his upper body is lean. He's not particularly muscular looking, as most Lorrell's find it hard to build body mass of any mass. He carries himself in a proper manner, keeping his hair clean and in order. He looks younger as a result of his lack of facial hair.
    Homeland: the Mountains
    King: the King of the Mountains
    Occupation: Noble/Mediocre hunter (hobby)
    Banner: A shooting star on violet
    Biography: Robin was born to Asher and Alys as their second son and fifth child overall. He watched his family quarrel from within for many years, over issues such as Isabell's refusal to marry, Edmund's increasingly outlandish habits and behaviors, or the death of his father. Robin managed to stay out of trouble by simply staying out of the way. Years of practicing that has made him skilled at bending words to avoid conflict.

    He was constantly picked on by Edmund as a kid, and therefore doesn't care for his elder brother much to begin with, but Edmund's policies of leadership serve as a much larger source of Robin's disposition to him.

    Robin's father had high hopes for his younger son. He tried to push him to learn how to fight, but the lessons failed to catch Robin's attention. Robin did however enjoy the hunts he, his father, and his brother went on, and began hunting on his own around fourteen. Aside from using the bow, Robin enjoys literature, but is a lousy writer himself. Robin spends most of his time in the keep, with his youngest sister. At Esme's birth, he was just content with having a sibling younger than he, but as the years went by he grew close with her. They are practically inseparable now.
     
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  4. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    7 Days Before the Wedding



    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Iron Crag



    Dining Hall


    "Do your business." Lord Rollant flicked his fingers at his son. "There's to be a ship here soon, from Breezecroft. We have food, they need it. There'll be an exchange of. . .goods when the ship arrives. It'd be good if you were on it when it departs."

    The Lord looked at his bastard across the table.

    "You're a bastard, but you can still prove your worth."

    He stared long and hard.

    "Don't fail me."




    TAG: BartSimpson-SithLord
     
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  5. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    The Ravenford


    Woods



    “I’ve never traveled outside the Desert.” Olyvar said, just as wide eyed as the rest of them. “Ser Caliban isn’t known for his. . .experience.

    Occasionally a dark horse and rider in silver finery rode down the line. They scanned each Desert rider before heading onward. Several times they stared at Fleet, obviously the only child in the group. Never once did they stop them though.

    From the head of the group, Ser Caliban could be vaguely heard.

    “. . .your name?”

    Ser Rolly. . .of. . .” the red-haired knight’s voice was gruff and low, but he said his own name proudly.

    “Is your Little. . .be fair?”

    Lady Bristal is. . .kindest ladies in the Capital. . .all her twelve years.”

    “But. . .her enemies?”

    “. . .have heard the Desertmen are in connection with pirates. . .”

    “Never!” Ser Caliban spat. “My brother was captured by those pirates!”

    “We. . .more at the Roost. . .castellan will tell you. . .”

    They stopped speaking with that.

    The Desert steeds weren’t used to the conditions, and constantly men were having to help their horses over rocks and through brooks. The going was tough, but within two hours, they had found a definite path. They passed by cottages built with grey stones mashed together. The woods began to thin as people appeared. Many of them were wide-eyed with fear. At a closer glance, it was obvious there had been a struggle here. Trees were burnt, houses had tumbled down, and the people were smudged with ash. As the line drew by them, many ran back into what little of their homes remained. The trees thinned out considerably, and the full view of the countryside became apparent.

    It had been razed. Fields and fields of crops, put to the torch.

    Sitting high above the destruction were three green hills. The middle was tallest, and on it was a massive black castle. Bridges that resembled wings stretched out to the outer hills, connecting to smaller towers. A wall encircled the base of the three hills. From the top of the castle flew a silver banner.

    The red-haired knight, Ser Rolly, pulled a black horn from his saddlebags. He put it to his lips, and from the horn came a CAW! resembling that of a bird. Another CAW! came from the castle.

    The gates began to open.

    Olyvar’s murmuring prayers grew to a fervor.




    TAG: Ktala, greyjedi125
     
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  6. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Breezecroft


    Docks



    "That is for you to decide." Lord Moorecroft said as he opened each bag in front of Abott, showing that each was in fact filled with gold coins. His accompanying men closed the bags back up. "Have those sent to Abott Tuckman's quarters."

    He gestured to some of the dockworkers. "Unload this ship and have the food distributed per district. All animals go to the castle." As they moved into action, he added, "I leave Bogart in charge."

    "Thank ye, m'lord." The man with the wart bowed.

    "There will be no problems with this, I trust?" Lord Tymothi asked.

    "None, m'lord."

    "Good." Lord Moorecroft looked back to Abott. "Would you walk with me, Tuckman? I would like to hear your travels in detail."



    TAG: Mitth_Fisto

     
  7. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    18 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Mountain Village


    Streets




    "Yer a pretty monk," One of the smaller girls said.

    "I thought monks were ugly!" A little boy with mud smeared under his eyes shouted.

    "Yer ugly!" The same little girl said back to him. There was a slight resemblance between the two.

    "Why'd they let you join?" The scarred boy seemed ignorant of the two arguing. He instead kept his one good eye on Leiliana.

    "Fingal!" Sierida seemed mortified. "What would your mother say if she heard you harassing a guest?"

    "I's just askin'." The scarred boy grumbled back. "With 'er bein' the only woman."



    TAG: Heavy Isotope

     
  8. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

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

    He felt them staring as they passed. He saw them staring, each one of them. The black riders of House Dondare.

    Fleet did not know what they wanted. He couldn’t fathom what they were thinking. He didn’t need to. He didn’t like being noticed. Period. He did nothing that he was aware of, to attract undue attention, but that did not matter. They knew something he did not. Something that indeed held their interest.

    And that was not good at all. He knew this from experience.

    Still, he was surprised that he was able to contain his mounting anxiety to the degree he had. Anger. Fear. He wanted to glare at them, and wished that was enough to set them aflame, but that was wishful thinking and ultimately a useless gesture. He needed real solutions to real problems.

    According to Lor, they could not just gallop away from their trouble. They were commanded to ride into this…Ravenford. Whatever that was. From what he could determine after listening to snatches of conversation, the one they were to see, the one who held their fate, was someone called Lady Bristal.

    Unsurprisingly, he’d never heard of her, but that’s not what stunned him.

    If he’d heard correctly…she was but a 12 year old lass!! Just a year younger than he was.

    Truth be told, he didn’t know how to begin to feel about that. It sounded…unreal. If he wasn’t so nervous, he might have found it a fascinating tale, but deep inside…he suspected something more sinister was the case. All he needed to do was look around for proof.

    The red haired Knight’s horn emitted a strange sound at the castle gates. Something bad had happened in this area. It was plain to see. Almost everything had been burnt down. Is that what those men were planning to do to the town he was in with Kaili?

    The strange bird-like sound was returned from the castle and the gates began to open. Olyvar’s murmuring prayers grew in intensity. Fleet looked at Lor, who remained ever stoic, but Olyvar was making him nervous.

    “Olyvar….” Fleet whispered once. “Pssst!! Olyvar!!” He whispered again, but just a bit louder. He needed to get the squire’s attention.

    “What’d yu know ‘bout the Lady Bristal?” He inquired, very well aware that he was interrupting the squire's prayers. His blue eyes searched his traveling companion's expression as another thought entered his mind and flowed out of his lips.

    “And…well, I trust yu to tell me true.” Here he hesitated just a bit, as he took furtive glances all around just to make sure no one else was too close to hear his words, save for ‘Lor’.

    “Who’s your true allegiance to? Ser Caliban or House Kildare?”

    Fleet had survived long enough to know that one needed to be a bit more than just clever in order to navigate certain dangers- especially those which were not so readily apparent. He watched Olyvar carefully, but he did not press him much. In his stomach, he could feel it. Things were going to be happening fast, and sooner than expected. His young mind was already racing in many directions, however, like on the city streets during his days as a small time coin thief, one needed to know who was an ally and who was not.

    Fleet silently hoped that Olyvar was as good as he believed him to be.


    Tag: @Ktala, @spycoder9
     
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  9. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

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

    Seeing that the bags all shone with gold he was warmed to the deepest depths the sea had chilled upon their voyage. Half of him wanted to follow the leaving money like a dog it's bone. And he was fine with that analogy but yet did not indulge in it, nor the baser one to pour the bags upon his bed and roll in the gold before passing it out to the crew.

    The Purse was given reign by the Moorecroft Strings and then he was pressed, a Tuckman no less, was pressed to join the customer. It was a rather morose situation, but it couldn't be helped. With a wave at the boy he tried to get the lad to come with him, right now he did not want to leave the boy alone with the Temptress.

    "Yes. I am afraid there is not much to tell, but I can tell you what I can. You see it all started with an early morning departure upon a gentle sea. . ." he planned to fully tell of the day to day of the ship, and work his way over the next two hours to their arrival at the mainland. Whether the man truly wanted details or not would be shown. But if the customer asks for it, give it. How the man reacted would also tell him slightly about whether or not he should share the news about the Jeweled Scabbards family. Until he came to that point, he would merely give a notion of the worry of their contact. If the worry solicited anything of doubt or fear or greedy eyes with hunger, then he would share the rest without the note of family, and if too much intrigue. Well whose business was it of his to spill the family secrete.

    TAG: spycoder9
     
  10. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

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

    "Yer a pretty monk," One of the smaller girls said. Leiliana blushed a little, her cheeks already red from the chilled breeze. What another boy said next made her laugh under her breath.

    "I thought monks were ugly!" A little boy with mud smeared under his eyes shouted.
    "Yer ugly!" The same little girl said back to him. There was a slight resemblance between the two. Leiliana always wondered if she had a brother or sister, somewhere in the world.

    "Why'd they let you join?" The scarred boy seemed ignorant of the two arguing. He instead kept his one good eye on Leiliana. "Well -- "

    "Fingal!" Sierida seemed mortified. "What would your mother say if she heard you harassing a guest?"

    "I's just askin'." The scarred boy grumbled back. "With 'er bein' the only woman."
    Leiliana cleared her throat quietly, it was a more of a laugh from the back and forth between the children, "Well, when I was younger than you, just a baby. I was found in the back of a cart driven by a young monk, he took me all the way to the monastery. I don't know what they had considered to decide to let me stay but... There I was, grew up among the Order, learned their ways and their code."

    TAGS: spycoder9
     
  11. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

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


    Olyvar's response was not reasuring. “I’ve never traveled outside the Desert.” Olyvar said, just as wide eyed as the rest of them. “Ser Caliban isn’t known for his. . .experience.”

    That was not surprising. He was an arrogant twit. Unfortunately, it was one who could get them killed. Lorain's features grew dark, as she sat up in the saddle next to Fleet. Occasionally a dark horse and rider in silver finery rode down the line. They scanned each Desert rider before heading onward. Counting? Or looking for something. Several times they stared at Fleet, and each time, Lorain held on tightly to the reins, thankful that the look on her face was hidden. Why did they seem so interested in Fleet. But they did not try to stop them or speak to them. They just stared.

    And Lorain didn't like it one bit. These riders where something special. The silver finery made them stand out. She listened as Ser Caliban spoke to someone named Ser Rolly something... She heard them speak of the little lady. Lady Bristal. Something about 12 years. Her age? Or how long she had been on the seat of power. She heard a bit about the rumors of how they thought desertmen were with the pirates. Mis-information, making the various countries hate each other? The answer came as they rode along. There, the trees had burns on them. And then they came out of the woods, and they passed villages.

    They had been razed. Fields and fields of crops, put to the torch.

    Well by the Gods! No wonder they looked at them like an invading force. But..why attack towns in your own area? Just to make a point? Or to seed so much distrust that no one trusted anyone else? You would have to be mad, to do such things? The looks on the villagers faces told a story. Soon they reached some green hills. And in the middle was a massive black castle. It almost looked like some kind of bird. A huge wall encircled the base. And even from this distance, Lor could see the silver banner.

    The red-haired knight, Ser Rolly, pulled a black horn from his saddlebags. He put it to his lips, and from the horn came a CAW! resembling that of a bird. Another CAW! came from the castle. The gates began to open. Red hair. Lor suddenly had a thought, and hoped that these people had nothing to do with...them. It could possibly explain why they kept looking at Fleet, even though they had not seen his face. She hoped it was just her nerves talking to her. Her face grew even more stoic. Even she could not fight off an entire castle of people if they had anything to do with this. She looked down at Fleet for a moment, before looking back up and around them again. Oh, Kochab, let us not be that unlucky!! Keep my cub safe. No, she would keep an watchful eye, that much was to be certain. And she would make sure that fool did not kill them all, if she could help it. She hoped that the lady they spoke of, was indeed fair.

    Olyvar’s murmuring prayers grew to a fervor. It was really beginning to annoy her. She wanted to tell him to stop it, but she knew he was nervous as well. “Olyvar….” Fleet called out, whispering to him. But the man was not paying attention. Lorain wondered what Fleet wanted to ask him. “Pssst!! Olyvar!!” Fleet whispered again, but just a bit louder. “What’d yu know ‘bout the Lady Bristal?” Lorain looked down at Fleet slightly. "Nuthing. Dey know nuthing. They has never travelled from da desert before. Im guessing its stories more than anything."

    Whether Fleet heard her or not, Lorain coudlnt tell. He pressed on with his question to the squire. “And…well, I trust yu to tell me true.” He hesitated for a moment, his voice dropping down even lower before he asked Olyvar. “Who’s your true allegiance to? Ser Caliban or House Kildare?”

    The flurry of curses that came rolling across her mind were varied, but she didnt say a word. To ask a man, who is a squire to his knight, who he followed if things got bad, was never a good thing. Besides, he was aligned to both. But his knight more than the house, because the knight was supposed to be towards his own house. But it did pose an interesting question. If Caliban was NOT committed to his own house, things could get messy. Lor looked towards the fighters in purple, for their reactions to the current events as they rode on. Something stunk, and it was not the smoldering buildings they had passed earlier.




    Tag: greyjedi125, spycoder9
     
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  12. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days After the Wedding



    The Desert of Mirwyth
    Kalkheim


    Great Hall



    As Lady Ginnifer held her court, Kalkheim had unexpected visitors.

    The doors opened in the midst of two feuding farmers, revealing a ragtag team of men and women. They were all covered in a layer of dirt and ash.

    “M’lady.” A familiar young man broke away from the group. He fell to one knee before her, and then cast his eyes up. “Lady Ginnifer. . .you may not remember me. . .”

    He was breathless as he wiped sweaty hair from his brow.

    “I am Ser Caliban’s squire. . .Olyvar Allsopp. . .”




    TAG: Trieste
     
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  13. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    Ravenford


    The Roost


    “My father swore allegiance to House Kildare,” Olyvar whispered to Fleet with his eyes still closed. “I swore allegiance to Ser Caliban. . .”

    He pursed his lips.

    “. . .no matter how much I disagree with him.”



    “First cousin of Ginnifer Kildare, Lady of the Fair Groves, and Ser Lawrence Kildare, the Hero of Aqarda? You come from an esteemed House, Ser Caliban.” The castellan of the Ravenford stared at the knight across the table. He had ushered Ser Caliban into the main castle as soon as the gates opened. Ser Caliban requested that Olyvar accompany him, along with Lor and Fleet.

    They were led down dark hallways, where the only light came from high windows and low torches. The castellan said very little as he led them into the private dining hall, though Ser Caliban continuously attempted to pry any information from the man. It was to no avail.

    “My cousins like to make themselves known.” Ser Caliban said.

    “Why is it I’ve never heard of you?” The castellan asked. His eyes were grey as stone, but at this moment they seemed to sparkle as silver would.

    “Probably for the same reason I’ve never heard of you.” Ser Caliban leaned forward in his seat. “Ser, please, my brother-“

    “I’m no Ser.” The castellan took a sip of his wine. “Only a castellan.”

    “Apologies.” Ser Caliban said. “My brother has been captured by these pirates. They sieged Caraba-“

    “I’ve heard. No doubt a misdirection from the Desert, to cause further strife towards House Reynard?”

    “No, honestly, ser-“

    “I’ve told you, I’m no ser. My vows aren’t the same as yours.” The castellan looked behind him, to a cracking fireplace. “I could have all of your men imprisoned at this very moment, locked away so deep into this castle that they might never see the light of day. When Matheus hears that we have war criminals, Desert war criminals no less, he might actually grace the Ravenford with a visit.” He gave a steely gaze to Ser Caliban.

    “We meant the Ravenford no harm. No more than we did the Capital. I just want my brother returned.”

    “When we defeat these pirates, I could have him delivered to your cell.”

    Ser Caliban’s hands were shaking, ever-so-gently.

    “I should’ve had all of you imprisoned when you entered the gates-“ The castellan was stopped as the double doors were flung up, allowing a great deal of light into the room. Standing in the light was a shadow.

    “Uncle!” The shape cried, “You’ll do none of the such! I’m the Lady of Ravenford, in case you have forgotten, and these people are my guests.” She stepped into the room, all five foot of her, with blonde curls cascading down the back of her silver gown. Her eyes were sharp emerald pearls that glanced at each of them in turn.

    “They are Desertmen, m’lady,” The castellan said, much more humbler than he had been, “It’s treason to allow them passage.”

    “When was the last time the royal family gave us a visit? Before Father died? I doubt they care what happens here.” The Little Lady clapped her hands. “Bring them some food! I’m sure you’re all parched in your travels?” Her face had a childish innocence, but the eyes showed her true wisdom.

    As goblets were filled with water, plates of bread and cheese were laid before the visitors.

    “We should get to know each other, shouldn’t we?” The Little Lady smiled. “Claryssa Bristal, the youngest lady the Ravenford has ever known.”

    “And the best.” The castellan said. The Little Lady giggled.

    “If you do say so, Uncle.” She gestured to the castellan. “This is my caretaker and uncle, Artos Redwood. He’s my mother’s brother,” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “And a bit silly too. He never trusts anyone.”

    “It’s a war, m’lady. You should never trust anyone in war. Especially men from the kingdom you are warring with.”

    “Oh shush,” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a silly old man. Tell me your names!”



    TAG: Ktala, greyjedi125
     
  14. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 24, 2004
    OOC: 99% of this is combined between me and Trieste. Spycoder comes back in at the end. The song was suggested by the GM



    IC: Safia Rolmar
    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Shodaire, the Tower of Stone
    Dining Hall—the night before her wedding

    "Have you been enjoying the evening so far?" she asked as they made their way out onto the floor.

    "So many names and new faces," Lawrence said as he drew Safia into the usual dancing pose, one hand in the other, raised to their side, his other hand on her waist, "There are many more houses in the Mountains than I would have thought. I'm sure it's easy for you to keep them all straight. I shall have my revenge when you come with me to Kalkheim, though. You'll have all the Desert houses to remember and heaven knows how often you'll see them. Large expanses of sand do not always make for frequent travel, especially for the houses that are limited in their resources. I'm sure you'll do fine. There are books that help with that sort of thing, after all."

    Safia chuckled a little at his remark about revenge, though there was more than just a little truth to his words. "I'll manage," she told him. "Though I imagine I might need your help, at least at first."

    "What is the point of a marriage if not to help each other out?" Lawrence said as he led Safia through the steps of the dance.

    "True," she conceded with a nod.

    They danced in silence for a little while, the world turning around them, eyes doubtless upon them in this preview of what was to come tomorrow. There had been so much small talk between Lawrence and Safia. Indeed, it had been their refuge in these early days of getting to know each other. One comment came to Lawrence's mind, that he was a lucky groom because he had been so far removed from wedding planning, but he let it die in his mind. He was on the verge of marriage. Anything he thought to say sounded hollow now on the eve of such an important life event.

    And yet he still spoke. "I'm glad it was you."

    A slight frown of confusion flickered across her face. "What do you mean?" Perhaps the wine was starting to cloud her head a little, but she couldn't quite grasp the sentiment his statement was intended to convey.

    "Oh, just that if as you know I never expected to marry anyone, but since I am going to I'm glad it was you," Lawrence replied.

    She smiled up at him. "As am I." She might have thought otherwise a few weeks earlier, but now that she had gotten to know Lawrence, she could genuinely say that she was happy with the match.

    After a few more minutes of silent dancing, a question came to her mind. "Does it bother you that none of your family came here with you for the wedding?" They were surrounded by her own relations, friends and allies, but though this was his wedding, too, none of the Kildares had accompanied him. She understood that Lady Ginnifer no doubt had duties to attend to, and of course not all of his family could come, but had their positions been exchanged, and she'd had to travel to the Fair Groves for the wedding, she probably would have been a little upset if none of her relatives came with her.

    "I have Miche, my squire," Lawrence said, "He is like a younger brother to me. Not quite a son, but there is something of that." Even as Lawrence said it, he realized that wasn't much of an answer. Miche was not a member of his family. No Kildare blood ran in his veins. And what was his family doing? Ginnifer had many duties, but how many lords and ladies from the Mountains were here tonight? Even if one rationalized that they would be away from their lands for a shorter period of time, the reports of Reynard's partisans marauding through the Mountains made even that absence dangerous. Even Islanders, who could be even further away from their lands that Lawrence would be depending on wind and tide, had come. Yet only a small representation of the Desertmen were here.

    The other members of his family, Lawrence realized, had even less excuse. Zooey, for all of her work standing in for Ginnifer from time to time, could have been spared for a few weeks, surely. Chelsee had no official duties. She didn't even have the usual woman's work to distract her. Landon, for all his talents, was usually left with nothing to do in Kalkheim. Aron as Warden would stand in Lawrence's stead--his responsibilities were clear. Willis, a man of trade could have come, but he would have been just a shopkeeper in the eyes of these lords. Caliban, all shining armor, surely would be doing more good here than he'd be doing protecting the Fair Groves, even if it was a good idea to have a knight hanging around to keep the ne'er-do-wells on edge. Regina, Widmer, their children...surely Ginnifer could have sent them along? They'd both be glad to get away from each other for a while. Even they hadn't been invited to come along.

    And then there was his father. Lawrence's own father, who was an afterthought around the Fair Groves, who surely had nothing more important going on in his life, was not even here. My own father did not even come, Lawrence thought.

    The life of a knight could be a lonely one, but Lawrence Kildare had never felt less a part of his family at this moment.

    He didn't even think about if it showed on his face. He didn't think to make excuses for them. "I suppose the family I left behind to, and will return to, is not so important as the family that shall begin tomorrow when we take our vows," Lawrence said, attempting to find some silver lining in the situation.

    She gave his arm a gentle, comforting squeeze-she suspected that his family's absence did bother him, though he tried not to let on, and she felt guilty for having asked, having called attention to that absence. "I am sorry if I caused you distress," she said. "I should not have asked. I know it would certainly bother me not to have any of my family present for such an important occasion.

    "When we get back to the Fair Groves, we'll have to tell them all about the wedding in great detail, and make them all madly jealous that they weren't here," she added, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

    Lawrence smiled at Safia's kindness. "You'll probably succeed," he laughed, "The result will be disastrous. My sisters will all want to get married to the first man that they see just so they can have their own wedding. My brother Landon will likely want to wed and bed the first maid that he comes across regardless of her provenance. You'll be quite the trendsetter!"

    She laughed with him. "You think they'll catch 'wedding fever,' do you? Yes, that would be a disaster--amusing, maybe." She sobered up a bit. "Though I imagine Ginnifer, at least, is more sensible than that, isn't she?"

    "Yes, you're right," Lawrence said, the smile not quite disappearing, but the corners coming down a bit. His mind traveled elsewhere, his voice mirroring his contemplation. "Ginnifer's marriage will be nothing but carefully thought out. Unlike you, she will decide who she marries. Our mother could have made her marry against her will, but that's not going to happen now. Who Ginnifer marries is an event that could affect the political landscape of the Desert...and she knows that. No, she will not be caught up in too much of a frenzy and forget that." Though perhaps she should, Lawrence thought. Their mother hadn't married for love--she had chosen her own match for political reasons, and also to choose a husband she could dominate. It had not ended well. Maybe Ginnifer needed to find happiness more than she needed to find a strong position politically.

    Yet he knew that Ginnifer was too smart to let that happen. The songs might be full of tales of love, but the history books were full of bad marriages that had undone houses.

    "Even so," Lawrence said, his mind returning to the here and now, "Perhaps a politically convenient marriage isn't such a bad thing sometimes?" His smile returned as he looked at Safia. "I can think of one example, perhaps..."

    She returned his smile. "We did get lucky, didn't we?

    "I've seen what an unhappy marriage can do to people," she added, suddenly thinking of her aunt Kalera. And if what others said of Lady Emilie was true, Lawrence had probably seen it, too.

    "Let's hope all we do is see," Lawrence said.

    "So far we seem to be off to a good start," she noted. "Considering what we've already gotten past, I think it would take something quite serious to mess this up." She wouldn't say it aloud, but the incident he had confessed to her some days earlier was going through her mind.

    The music ended abruptly as Desmond rose from his seat.

    "Gifts!" He spoke above the dancers. "It's time for the gifts!"

    TAG: None (TBC)
     
  15. HanSolo29

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

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    OOC: I apologize in advance for the length. This is meant to be an introductory post for the character.

    IC: Dayvid Sol
    Wilderness & Tavern, The Mountains

    While Spring was beginning to bloom in other parts of the land, especially along the coast and within the Capital itself, the Mountains were not as forgiving. Winter insisted on hanging on with her iron grip, unrelenting and unwilling to let go, even as the sun remained higher in the sky as the harvest season approached. She was a stubborn sort who had dumped a fresh layer of snow on the ground the night before out of protest of the longer days…or perhaps out of spite to hinder the travel of any passerby to this section of the path, for this section of the path offered a reprieve as it wound its way downward into the valley. In that valley was the mark of civilization in the form of a small village, which provided warmth and comfort from the elements. Now, any good trapper or hunter would know that Winter did not like any such conveniences and would try her damnedest to prevent any unsuspecting fool willing to cross her path from reaching that destination.

    Fortunately for Dayvid Sol, he was smarter than Winter and knew how to navigate her obstacles and still come out ahead. He manipulated her as he manipulated any other paying customer eager to buy his services. In the end, he wound up with what he wanted and the other party, whether that was a paying customer or Winter herself, was left with a false sense of satisfaction and a personal victory. While his methods were not always conventional, it worked well for him and kept him and his canine companion, Sage, alive on their travels through the wilderness.

    The sun was just beginning to crest above the far eastern peaks as Dayvid and his travel companion set foot in the village, the fresh snow crunching beneath their feet as if to announce their arrival. But as it were, it was still fairly early in the morning and the only souls out and about at this hour were the farmers who were struggling to cultivate an early harvest in this frigid weather. A few of them managed to afford the travelers a wary glance, especially Sage, but no one bothered to utter a word…not even a ‘hello.’ Either they were accustomed to strangers coming and going from the village or they were on edge from something far more concerning.

    In either case, it gave Dayvid pause and he faltered in his step as he studied them with furrowed brow. This village was not one of his usual haunts and he was beginning to rethink his plan to expand his horizons to find work. He should have known as soon as he was beginning to feel ambitious that something would probably go wrong. It usually did. While it was always possible his concerns may be unfounded, it wouldn’t hurt to have an escape plan. It was better to be overly cautious than dead.

    But even with the best of plans, they couldn’t simply flee…not yet, anyway. They had been traveling three days straight with a limited supply of food and water and they were nearing the end of that stockpile. The rest of their gear, including a bedroll, pots, pans and other survival supplies, were starting to look a little worse for wear as well. Not only was this stop a potential hub to pick up future clients, but they also needed to stock up on some much needed supplies.

    With that goal in mind, Dayvid released Sage to hunt (it had been such a long time since he had been able to roam free by himself and act on instinct) and made his way to the only establishment that appeared to be accepting customers at this early hour – the tavern. That suited him just fine. He felt at home amongst the dregs of society, not because he lumped himself into their lot, but because they were usually desperate. It was the desperate who were always seeking a better life and willing to part with large sums of money. That, in turn, meant good business.

    As he entered the dark alcove, his nostrils were immediately greeted by the smell of a wood stove burning, giving the entire place a sweet, maple aroma that stimulated the senses and instantly reminded you of home. It was only then that he realized it was much more than a tavern, but served as an inn as well. Good…maybe he wouldn’t have to make more than one trip around town. He could get everything he needed right here.

    Shrugging off the cold, he removed the fur-lined hood of his cloak, taking in what few patrons were present, before gesturing for the bar keep. When the stout, chubby man with a thin mustache approached from behind the counter, it was revealed that he was indeed the owner and in no time at all, negotiations were underway to obtain all the supplies he needed. The man promised to have everything gathered in a pack for him within an hour or two, which wasn’t ideal, but it gave Dayvid enough time to enjoy a few drinks. He couldn’t complain about that. Money was exchanged after that and Dayvid was soon seated at a single table near the wood stove with a mug of ale.

    It didn’t take long for the other patrons to take notice of him…that he was different and was apparently intruding on their turf. He didn’t know these people had concerns over land boundaries, but it would explain why the farmers had given him such a nasty eye upon arriving. Was this the sentiment of only a small circle of farmers because of crops being stolen or did it extend further than that? The tavern owner seemed nice enough…

    Dayvid sighed and brought the mug back up to his lips for another sip, allowing the golden liquid to pool in his throat for a moment to warm up his being before swallowing. When he brought the mug back down to the table, he took notice of another conversation rising in volume beside him. Two men with weathered faces and dirty clothes, both of which were the result of being exposed to the harsh environment for far too long, were arguing over an incident that piqued his interest:

    “Nah, nah,” one of the men, Blondie, was saying in his drunken stupor. “I sees it with ma own eyes, I do. No denying a walkin’ corpse. Clear as da day, he was – staring me right in da face with his lifeless eyes and his bones a showin’!”

    He then whipped out a small pocketknife with a shaky hand motion, causing his lanky companion, Freckles, to jump back in his seat with wide eyes. Like Blondie, he had had his fair share of alcohol and he was tipping over the brink. The fact that he was also much younger than his companion made it even more comical.

    “I slit ‘im ‘cross the throat and lopped off da head,” Blondie continued as he swiped the blade in front of his face. “Dat’s when I sees the rest comin’ from da ruins…an army of da brutes!”

    “Lies…yu lie,” Freckles stammered, though he didn’t look very confident in his statement with the way his jaw was unhinged.

    Blondie shook his head slowly, a sinister smile slipping over his features. “Nah…tis was Harrowmont. The City of the Dead, dat is.”

    “H-Harrowmont? B-but..”

    “Cursed, she is…in fact, dat corpse I slayed? Lord Jowan Harrowmont ‘emself…”

    Dayvid could no longer hold his tongue at the absurdity he was hearing. With a snort, he shifted and draped his arm across the back of his chair so that he was now facing the two men. “That’s quite a story,” he surmised with an incredulous quirk of his brow. “But I think you’ve had way too much to drink, friend…especially at this early hour. Take my advice and slow down, huh? You ain’t gonna last long talkin’ like that. Walkin’ corpses?” He chuckled and turned back to his ale.

    Blondie sneered, beginning to rise from his position with the pocketknife now clenched in his hand with the blade facing up. “Ya mock me? I sees it with ma own eyes! Wha gives ya the right ta waltz in ‘ere and tell me what ta do! Ya don’t belong ‘ere…”

    The humor faded from Dayvid’s face as he returned the man’s gaze, holding his hands up defensively. “Hey, take it easy, alright? I didn’t—“

    The last thing he saw was Freckles trying to calm his friend before the other man lunged. Blondie was on Dayvid in an instant and they both hit the floor hard, knocking chairs and tables over in the descent. Fortunately, Dayvid knew how to deal with thugs such as Blondie from encountering so many throughout his travels and the scuffle was short. Since the other man was drunk, it had been quite easy to disarm him and turn his own weapon against him to cease the fighting. One slit across the throat was all that was needed before Blondie was nothing more than a cooling corpse in a pool of blood. Ironic, really, considering he was only just telling tales of walking corpses to scare the other patrons.

    Freckles gaped at the sight of his friend lying lifeless on the floor. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking between the corpse and Dayvid, unsure of what to do. Dayvid, slowly rising to his feet, glowered at the young man, silently daring him to make a move. He knew he wouldn’t and when he was fairly confident that he was only going to stand there in a stupor, Dayvid gestured towards the door with the edge of the knife. “Go,” he uttered simply.

    The man took off, not even daring to look back. It was at this point that the other patrons, including the owner, were taking a keen interest in the scuffle that resulted in a murder…no, not murder. It had been self-defense. Blondie had attacked him with the intent to kill and Dayvid had only done what it took to stay alive. The others wouldn’t see it that way, though. He was almost certain of that.

    He sighed, knowing what he had to do, no matter how much it pained him to do so. The brown pouch he kept tied around his belt jingled lightly as he unhooked it. Money, particularly gold coins, were a powerful thing and if he could bribe the owner with the stuff in order to cover his tracks and to ensure that he keeps his mouth shut, the better. This particular stash was what remained of the reward from his last job that involved a distraught wife seeking revenge on her unfaithful husband. It had been a mundane job and one agreed upon out of necessity, but the old hag had been well off and paid well. It would certainly put him in the hole to give it up, but that only opened the door to other opportunities.

    Weighing the bag in one hand, he allowed the pocketknife that was clenched in the other to drop onto Blondie’s lifeless body before approaching the owner with caution. The other man eyed him suspiciously, studying every move that he made. He almost expected him to pull a sword from behind the counter to cleave off his head, but when no attack came, Dayvid allowed the bag of coins to sink noisily to the countertop. The owner’s eyes followed the bag briefly as it settled.

    “For the trouble,” Dayvid drawled, making a point to make eye contact with the other man to show that he was sincere.

    The man hesitated for a moment before reaching for the bag and drawing the strings to open it. When he caught sight of the amount, his eyes bulged for the briefest of moments before returning to normal. “You won’t be gittin’ them supplies,” he muttered gruffly, not even bothering to look up at Dayvid. “Now git outta here b’fore I changes ma mind ‘bout the rest.”

    Dayvid nodded, accepting the deal as he pulled the hood back over his head and tracked back to the door. As he stepped back out into the cold, he unleashed three short whistles to call Sage back to his side. The wolf, always the loyal creature, came trudging back from the snow-covered pines with a rabbit hanging limply from its maw. Dayvid smiled as he knelt down to pat his companion between the ears, giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he did good to bring back food. They were going to need it, especially now that his first attempt at securing supplies had failed. In fact, procuring supplies wouldn’t be so simple anymore without money…he needed to find a job and soon.

    Coaxing Sage onward, man and beast passed out of the village and disappeared into the forest to seek out their next opportunity, wherever that may be.

    TAG: spycoder9
     
  16. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Breezecroft


    Mainland



    Lord Tymothi Moorecroft listened to every word Tuckman had to say.

    It went on for two hours, the sailor talking and the lord listening. It was when Tuckman had come to a close, that Tymothi spoke.

    “The King trusted you in this.” He smiled wistfully. “He trusts a good many people. People he shouldn’t.”

    They continued onward, down paths and in between buildings.

    “I have something that needs to be done. Something. . .something I never wanted to do, but desperate times have forced me to it.” This time he never looked at Abott. “Before I tell you, I want to know more of you. I want to know I can trust with something that would give you much more than those bags of gold.”



    TAG: Mitth_Fisto

     
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  17. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Abott Tuckman
    Isles of Mirwyth, Breezecroft - Mainland of Island

    You know, there is only so much tedium even he could pack into a conversation and now after a couple hours his mouth was hanging rather dry as the salty sea air teased a tongue that had want to lay like parchment. When the Strings replied, he was rather surprised. People he shouldn't could be taken several ways, well two that mattered, either the Strings was replying about others he did not trust, or he was talking about Abott. In which case he should be offended, outraged! But to be honest, as he raised his eye brows and rocked his eyes left to right, he couldn't dispute the words either way they were applied. After all, a customer with a battalion of swords is always right.

    As they walked in silence between the buildings he had to admit, he was feeling a bit closed in by the surroundings. He had always liked wagon trails, open seas, and inns with drunk waitress', but the cities always seemed like they were conspiring to squeeze you into paste and mortar. A building shift here or there and you would be little better.

    Still, the Strings had the lead, and he followed. Even to that end for the hope of a more profitable one. Then the Strings spoke of having to do something undesired, something worth more than gold. Strings, was he like the Sword and Lords of Baubles? He hoped not, those lot always thought that power, position, and title beat out all else. When in truth they were just a more touchy mark or customer with an easier ability to seek revenge.


    "Me Sire?!" he replied with an exhaled breath as he stared up to the sky above, mercifully open as always. "There is not much to tell, I am from House Tuckman. Hello." he said with slight bob and lifting his hat with curls. A practiced gesture that set them to bouncing slightly for a moment. "We are a cursed house of traders, never to settle as peasants nor Lords with house or estate so sure and fixed. Always on the move and trade-routes we must be, actually I don't recall what will happen if we don't." He replied with a shrug.

    "As one sets always a foot to the path or a hand to the till, we made our way. Without those things we have a strong tradition and heritage for being honest and loyal to the customer unto death or completed transaction, such as my delivery here unless I get the repeat engagement offer from you or the. . .King. When you cannot store heaps of gold, fortresses, or homesteads ones reputation is all one has beyond family with any consistency. Although with me setting a new route here as first trader upon the sea constantly, Oy! It means all the more sir."

    TAG: spycoder9
     
  18. JediMasterAnne

    JediMasterAnne Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 24, 2004
    Stamped with spycoder9's seal of approval.


    Name: Evaleene Davers

    Age: 28

    Gender: Female

    Appearance:
    [​IMG]

    Evaleene has various scars from battles and fights, but most are either small enough or faded enough to escape notice, or hidden by clothing.

    Homeland: Daversport—an island off the Great Continent, ruled by her father. The Davers home is Castle Daverston

    King: Her father, Isen Davers

    Occupation: Princess, Captain of the Fleet

    Family Banner: A green sea serpent on an aqua blue field

    House Words: You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.

    Biography: The daughter of Isen and Cressida Davers, Evaleene is the eldest of four children. Her younger brothers are Alfred and Ross, and her sister is named Brigitta.

    Though she’s pretty enough, Evaleene is a brash, rough young woman. Not one to stand back and let others do the fighting for her, she likes to be in the thick of things, and when the battle is over, she’s just one of the guys, drinking and sharing battle-tales with the men under her command. She leads a small fleet of her father’s vessels, charged with the protection of the waters around Daversport, and has taken on pirates, smugglers and other sea-going ne’er-do-wells on a handful of occasions.

    However, despite her active, rough-and-ready nature, Evaleene has more conventional ambitions for her future. She wants to marry well and have children, but at the same time is uncertain of her ability to adjust to such a docile lifestyle.
     
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  19. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Fleet Ashkey
    The Ravenford, Four Days before the Wedding

    That had not been the answer he was expecting to hear, then again, he didn’t really know what he had been expecting. But Olyvar’s answer made one thing clear. Matters were not as simple as he had imagined.

    “My father swore allegiance to House Kildare, I swore allegiance to Ser Caliban…no matter how much I disagree with him.”

    Fleet felt a pang of shame for having questioned Olyvar the way he had. Here was someone who had found favor in the eyes of the foremost noble house of the desert. Who was he, a former urchin, to judge? But it wasn’t the Kildare’s per se he had an issue with, after all, they had treated him and Loraine like honorable guests and even gifted them with weapons and armor. However, Ser Caliban’s manner ran contrary to his family’s generosity. He had not been very respectful of Lorain since the onset of their quest, which was a cause of much distress among the Ashkeys.

    Even so, Fleet how to wonder if Olyvar’s loyalty was so complete that he would blindly commit atrocities to remain in favor of the Kildare Knight. Another thought entered his mind. Who was to say that he had not already?

    Fleet tried not to stare at his new friend just then, suddenly feeling unsure if he had misjudged his newest acquaintance. Perhaps his desire to make new friends blinded him to more sobering realities. That was folly.

    Silently, he rode on, not wanting to say another word. It was time to be overly cautious again. Yes, perhaps it was better that way.

    Once inside the castle, things became even more alarming.

    This man, this castellan…he was certainly unfriendly.

    Fleet could not think of a good reason why in the realm entire would he and Lor be asked to accompany Ser Caliban and Olyvar inside the castle for an audience, especially when Ser Caliban had other advisors with him. Still, it wasn’t as if they could very well refuse.

    Fleet did as he always did in these situations, he listened and remained silent.

    Apparently, the castellan ( whatever that was) and Ser Caliban had never heard of each other, which became a point of friction. Fleet cared little for what the castle looked like. Truth be told, a structure did posses its own grandeur, but it was its inhabitants that gave it life…or lack thereof.

    The two men bickered like bitter old crones, pecking at each others words. Ser Caliban had no proper defense against this castellan, who was enjoying having the upper hand in their exchange. Fleet couldn’t help but scrunch his face when he heard them being called ‘war criminals’. This man was most certainly crazed. He was no friend of the Kildare’s that much was obvious. Not only did he threaten to imprison Ser Caliban, he threatened to imprison all of them, including Ser Willis, for whom they had travelled from so far away to rescue from pirates!

    Fleet’s hands were sweating as his blood boiled from listening to the crazed man’s accusations. Why were they all just standing there!?

    He was just about to tug on Lor’s tunic when someone else appeared.

    “Uncle!” a voice cried, startling the young Ashkey.

    Everyone turned toward the voice.

    “You’ll do none of the such! I’m the Lady of Ravenford, in case you have forgotten, and these people are my guests.”

    Fleet released a long breath, not realizing he had been holding it for so long. They had been saved from the crazed castellan, but by who?

    Fleet’s eyes grew wide as the figure approached. He beheld a fair and lovely lady with cascading blonde curls spilling down the back of her silver gown. Her eyes were green like gems, or so he imagined. When she glanced his way, he felt his cheeks flush with warmth, which mad whim look down in turn, but only for a moment.

    Were all noble women so beautiful and fair?

    The crazy castellan destroyed the moment by speaking. Fleet allowed himself to imagine himself putting a crossbow bolt through the man’s throat- but then he remembered the man was the young lady’s uncle, which made him regret having imagined the man’s murder in the first place. Such an act would land them in the dungeons for sure, or perhaps worse.

    After some more bickering, from which the young lady emerged triumphant, some water, bread and cheese were brought for the prisoners turned guests. Fleet nodded in thanks, but did not eat or drink, not until Lor indicated that it was safe to do so.

    The young lady introduced herself as Claryssa Bristal. Fleet smiled as he repeated the name in his mind. It had a rather lovely ring to it. When the castellan was introduced, as the uncle and caretaker, Artos Redwood, Fleet kept his face as neutral as possible when he nodded. Now he had a name for his list.

    The castellan persisted with his animosity, which the young lady rebuffed. That did nothing to take his name off the list, though Fleet did imagine himself regretting being the cause of any sorrow to such a fair maiden. But like the castellan so staunchly insisted in repeating; it was war.

    The young lady bid her uncle be silent, and with vibrant enthusiasm, bid them all to tell their names.

    Her question was addressed to them all and to neither of them in particular. Fleet finally had a name to be proud of, and for the briefest moment, he all but forgot where he was and all about the crazed castellan. No one had ever shown interest in his name before, and it felt good to finally have one.

    Taking a step forward like they had done back at the Kalkheim, Fleet spoke his name and bowed deeply.

    “I am Fleet Ashkey, your grace…” He said with a bit of affectation, then catching the young lady’s lovely gaze, he blushed and took two steps back, suddenly feeling awkward, but internally happy to have had the opportunity to be someone other than a flea-bitten, dirt encrusted urchin from some god’s forsaken orphanage.

    Yes, that felt very good indeed. Noble or not.


    Tag: @Ktala, @spycoder9 :p
     
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  20. 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

    A sensual smile spread over the Queen’s features as she watched Aran entertain a myriad of emotions, ranging from shock and requital at the news of the invasion and the inevitable battle to follow to something that could only be described as…lewd. It might have been enough to make a lesser person uncomfortable, but he was quite the specimen and Emilia could not fault him for such strong emotions. If applied to the correct situation, those emotions could become a very powerful ally, especially on the battlefield. That was something Emilia could admire.

    Besides that, wasn’t he only playing into her hands? A hint of pleasure rose from her stomach at the thought and she swayed slightly. Sometimes she truly outdid herself.

    “I want you to send them a clear message, Ser Aran,” she continued, her voice never faltering. “Be sure that the thought to cross into our realm never enters their feeble minds again, understood?” She straightened slightly and sighed as she studied him more closely. “I have no doubts that you will do a very thorough job. You have always impressed me in that regard, which is why I came to you from the start…”

    Folding her hands behind her back, she turned and gracefully positioned herself in front of the open portico, allowing the breeze to tug lightly at her dark locks. She didn’t want to overload the poor man with all she had to say, but he had a good head on him. She was fairly confident that he could handle such a load. After all, she didn’t want to insult him.

    “Who knows, perhaps you would be interested in serving myself and Matheus on a more permanent basis. The Crown Prince would need a personal contingent of protectors, after all – good men who would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater cause and who demonstrate an unconditional devotion to House Reynard.”

    She pivoted so that she was facing him once more, the light from the portico framing her in silhouette. “Are you such a man, Aran? Would you be willing to scour the kingdom for more like-minded individuals and to lay down your life to be their leader?

    “If so, prove it to me by obliterating those Desertmen. Pound them back into sand in which they have come!” She emphasized her point by balling her hand into a fist and bringing it down into the palm of her opposite hand.

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  21. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

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

    "...and their goat ate everything! Everything! Three bushels of oranges!" the first farmer exclaimed indignantly.

    "So it's my fault that you left the door to your storage shed open and the gate to your lands?" the second farmer retorted, "Or has my goat also grown thumbs and the intelligence to operate latches?"

    "The goat trespassed onto my land!"

    "It's a goat! It's a dumb animal! It doesn't understand property boundaries and customs!"

    "Then who's stupider? The goat or its owner that lets it roam free?"

    Moments like these were part of being the Lady of the Fair Groves that nobody thought about. Plush cushions, large banquets, leisure time, cool stone rooms, more gold in the coffers than most families would see in three generations if not more--that was what everyone thought it was like. What they didn't realize is that the people of the Fair Groves came to her for judgment for the pettiest things. Why their town elders couldn't adjudicate these disputes, Ginnifer didn't know. Well, that wasn't true.

    Town leaders have to live with their neighbors. They will often shunt the hard decisions to you as their liege and landlord, her mother had said, Much easier for them to say, "The Lady decided against you, not me. Now let's continue to do business together." Those leaders have no thought for the fact that we must try not to alienate our own tenants or we will starve when no one pays their rent and tribute. The best you can do when you are asked to sit in judgment is to be as fair as possible, but always to keep the interests of the House in the forefront of your mind. Remember--you will never make everyone happy. But you must protect our family and our land. Without them, we are peasants."

    Ginnifer often wished for something to interrupt the tedium of these meetings. She had to work hard to be attentive lest the claimants before her think that the Lady of the Fair Groves did not care about them. That would be disastrous. A reputation like that could undermine her control of the Fair Groves. No cry embittered people like, "The Lady doesn't care, safe and warm in her castle." Words like that had a way of ending in pitchforks and torches.

    However, Ginnifer Kildare was not prepared for something to actually interrupt the proceedings. She certainly wasn't prepared for it to be her cousin's squire--without her cousin.

    "Please, rise squire Allsopp," Ginnifer said. It always did to use more formal titles, even if inappropriate, with those below you. It made them feel valued and important. "You have clearly come far." She motioned for someone. "Drink, and rest a moment, while I conclude the business currently before me." Olyvar was led to one side of the hall so that the two farmers were before her again.

    "Gentlemen," Ginnifer said, taking advantage of their surprise at the sudden appearance of the ragged party to prevent them from presenting more "facts" in their case, "Prior to that momentary interruption, I was about to say that I have heard enough facts in this case. You--" this to the second farmer, "--did not keep control of your goat, your property for which you are liable. You--" this to the first farmer, "--did not secure your property. There is fault on both sides. Ergo, neither of you shall have full satisfaction. You--" to the second farmer, "--will pay your honorable neighbor half the value of the lost oranges in coin or in goods as you see fit. You shall both reconcile with each other here and now before V'hallar and consider an end to this matter."

    The second farmer turned to the second one, though not happily. "You shall have your restitution within the week."

    "And I shall keep my doors closed from now on," the first farmer said.

    "And my goat shall be tethered," the second farmer said.

    "V'hallar go with you," Ginnifer said, bringing the matter to a close. The farmers departed. This left her with the ragged, dusty party and the regular retainers who were present for when she held court. "Squire Allsopp, come forward once more if you have refreshed yourself." The squire did so. "Did Ser Caliban not teach you etiquette? Interrupting an audience is far from knightly conduct." There was just the slightest edge in her voice, but it was that of a correction made of fondness than out of dislike. "Speaking of which, where is my cousin?"

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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



    “Was it fun?” The little girl asked.

    “Funner than bein hur. . .” The mud-smeared boy said.

    “This is a beautiful place!” Sierida spoke over them, her voice twinging towards anger. “And a safe one! You’re lucky to live here.”

    “Howda ya know its safe hur?” The scarred boy stared Sierida directly in the face. The others had quietened when she spoke, but he didn’t back down to her. “Ya ain’t been anywhur’ else.”

    “I don’t have time for this, and neither does Leiliana.” Sierida turned her back to him. “You are being disrespectful in front of visitors. I’ll make sure your mother finds out about this.”

    She began to walk away, arms crossed over her chest. She glanced back at Leiliana.

    “Are you coming?”


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  23. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Breezecroft


    Docks



    The Lord stared ahead once Abott had finished. His hands remained clasped behind his back.

    “I pray to all the gods that I can trust you.” His voice was a whisper. “I have a. . .a mission for you. A delivery and retrieval of goods. . .slaves, Abott.” The Lord looked at him, and this time, no false pretenses hid the truth. His eyes were pain stricken, and haunted, but truthful most of all. “You’re delivering slaves to the Iron Crag.”

    Moorecroft turned away again. He was looking out over the shops, over the people, over the lands.

    “You’re delivering my people. . .”

    He spoke so low Abott had to strain to hear.

    “What does a lord do, when he must choose between slavery, and starvation. . .”



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  24. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 7, 2002
    OOC: Sorry for the long post! Took me a bit.

    "Lor" - Lorain Ashkey
    The Ravenford - 4 Days Before the Wedding

    Things were getting heated. Olyvar had given the response that Lorain had expected. That was no surprise. What was surprising however, was once they were ushered into the the large dark castle. Lor kept close to Fleet, dismounting first, and patiently waiting for him, before they were moved. As soon as they had passed the great walls, the burly man from the castle had separated Ser Caliban from his men. And Ser Caliban requested that Olyvar, Lor and Fleet accompany him. Oh really? NOW, he wished to hear from them? Probably to help pull the man's arse from the flames, most likely. She said nothing, but gently laid a covered hand on Fleet's shoulder, directing him, as they walked. They were led down many dark hallways, and Lorain wondered if they kept it that way on purpose. The large man was quiet, as he led them into what turned into a dining hall,. It was huge. Ser Idjit kept trying to speak to the man, but he stayed rather silent. At least until reached the dining hall. Lorain followed along with Olyvar and simply listened. She heard the man from the Ravenford speak of the other family members from Fair Grove, and the comment of why he had never heard of Caliban.

    “Probably for the same reason I’ve never heard of you.” Ser Caliban leaned forward in his seat. “Ser, please, my brother-“

    “I’m no Ser.” The castellan took a sip of his wine. “Only a castellan.”

    Lorain had no idea what a castellan was. But from the power the man seemed to have, even if he didnt act like he had no title, his influence was more than enough to compensate. It did seem as if Ser Caliban knew what it meant, as he was quick to respond. "Apologies.” Ser Caliban said. “My brother has been captured by these pirates. They sieged Caraba-“

    “I’ve heard. No doubt a misdirection from the Desert, to cause further strife towards House Reynard?”

    “No, honestly, ser-“

    “I’ve told you, I’m no ser. My vows aren’t the same as yours.” The castellan looked behind him, to a cracking fireplace. “I could have all of your men imprisoned at this very moment, locked away so deep into this castle that they might never see the light of day. When Matheus hears that we have war criminals, Desert war criminals no less, he might actually grace the Ravenford with a visit.” He gave a steely gaze to Ser Caliban.

    “We meant the Ravenford no harm. No more than we did the Capital. I just want my brother returned.”

    “When we defeat these pirates, I could have him delivered to your cell.” That's when Lorain noticed that Ser Caliban’s hands were shaking, ever-so-gently. Lorain stood behind and next to Fleet, watching it all, trying not to look disgusted. Why did these people hate the desert people so much? Was that what the crazy King was doing? Making so that none of the other realms trusted one another, so that they would fight among themselves, and keep them joining forces against him? Her eyes slid back over when the large man continued. “I should’ve had all of you imprisoned when you entered the gates-“ The man stopped as the double doors were flung up, allowing a great deal of light into the room. Someone stood there.

    “Uncle!” The shape cried, “You’ll do none of the such! I’m the Lady of Ravenford, in case you have forgotten, and these people are my guests.” She stepped into the room, all five foot of her, with blonde curls cascading down the back of her silver gown. Her eyes were sharp emerald pearls that glanced at each of them in turn. Lorain caught a small bit of movement from Fleet. She looked over. Fleet’s eyes grew wide as the figure approached. When the young lady, obviously the TRUE power of the place glanced his way, Lorain noticed that Fleet quickly looked down. Lorain grinned from under her wraps, and her attention was back on the Lady Ravenford.

    “They are Desertmen, m’lady,” The castellan said, much more humbler than he had been, “It’s treason to allow them passage.” Really? That was interesting to know. And this fool was stomping around with what certainly looked like a invading force. The Young lady quickly interjected.

    “When was the last time the royal family gave us a visit? Before Father died? I doubt they care what happens here.” The Little Lady clapped her hands. “Bring them some food! I’m sure you’re all parched in your travels?” As goblets were filled with water, plates of bread and cheese were laid before the group. Lorain did not touch the food. Not yet anyway. While she trusted the young lady, the other she was not quite ready to give that trust to.

    “We should get to know each other, shouldn’t we?” The Little Lady smiled. “Claryssa Bristal, the youngest lady the Ravenford has ever known.”

    “And the best.” Artos stated. The Little Lady giggled. “If you do say so, Uncle.” She gestured to the man. “This is my caretaker and uncle, Artos Redwood. He’s my mother’s brother,” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “And a bit silly too. He never trusts anyone.”

    “It’s a war, m’lady. You should never trust anyone in war. Especially men from the kingdom you are warring with.” Warring with? Had war been declared? That was news to her.

    “Oh shush,” Claryssa stated, as she rolled her eyes. “He’s a silly old man. Tell me your names!”

    Lorain was rather surprised when Fleet took a step forward, and bowed deeply. “I am Fleet Ashkey, your grace…” the look on his face was priceless, as he then quickly took two steps back. Lorain could not have been more proud of him then. A young boy who had more sense than most of the adults in the room. She nodded proud of her son. Now Lorain found herself at odds here. She did not trust Artos. But Artos was most likely only try to protect his young niece, and their people. She either had to expose herself, in order to show that they meant no harm. For if she lied about this, and was found out later, then it could possibly make them look guilt when they had done nothing wrong. War made people do many things, and trust no one. It was never good for business. Well, things could always go bad. But perhaps.. she could allow herself to hope. For Fleet's sake.

    Lorain stepped forward next, and went down on one knee in front of Claryssa. "Ya Uncle has his reasons to be protective M'lady. But he has much to protect. And dat, I understands." Lorain slowly reached up, and tugged on her turban, removing it from her head, and uncovering her face. She smiled, as she bowed her head. "So I understands why he is careful of strangers. Just as I am m'lady. I am Lorain. Lorain Ashkey ya Grace. An I be da reason dat Ser Calbian be passing thru yer lands. Cause da story about his brother being true. We mean no harm. We was looking for the hiding place of dem pirates." Lorain raised her head, still staying on one knee, as she looked over at Artos. She gestured to Ser Caliban and Olyvar.

    "Only these men here know my real nature. Those who joined us in the purple 'n black, I will not vouch for em, cause I do not know em. They only recently joined us. Dey do not know who or whats I am, and I prefer to keep it that way, to protect my young Ser and myself. And last I hears, theres not a war. Not yet anyways." Lorain made a concerned face, as she stood up, backing away once more. "But..yer.." Lorain paused, Looking over at the young girl once more. "Ya Grace, If whats he says abouts it being treason, den we dont wants to cause ya any trouble with anyone else. I would not wants to bring ya any troubles to the Ladys doorstep, anymore than I wants to bring any ill will towards my own."

    Lorain stepped back, replacing the turban on her head, but not covering her face. She looked over at Fleet for a moment, before looking back at the pair, to see what reactions, if any, would result, while praying that the gods that had shown them favor before, was still watching over them. Thoughts of war was a touchy thing, as she hoped that these people held not to strong an alliance to the mad king. Hopefully, da Gods that had been kind, and watching over Fleet and Lorain was still keeping an ear open to em. They most certainly needed em now. She hoped that Lady's reputation was a true as they had heard about earlier.




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  25. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

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

    The Strings were tight this morning as his tale wound to it's close, and for a moment he wondered what would happen. After all in a moment of silence what is there to do but wonder? Besides remind the other person of your presence, but for the moment the customer needed space.

    Then the man surprised him by using a peasants words of praying to all the gods that he could. It was vulgar when one considered that most of the gods didn't get along that well. Good luck getting them to agree on this one thing when their own priests cannot agree on a table! Still he held his wist and let the Strings continue.

    It happened. He felt like was staring at a hollow purse, and it was terrible. In truth it was a trade the Tuckman's as a House had only tangential dealings. No caravan of theirs ever ran in such things, if you are already cursed why tempt fate any more? Well there was a couple in the annals of the House, but they were ostracized and curls were cut. Still, one did not talk of such things.

    With a hand to his elbow and the other to his chin he looked at the Strings good and hard. "You sir are Meshuggina!" he shook his head, "You don't know? You go for option three. You loan them out as wage workers, you send them as refugees with a wink and nod to be spies! You make training as fishermen a temporary mandatory skill for able bodied men." He sighed as he spread his arms, "Need I go on? If so try the Temptress, I mean, the Lady with whom I just left her boat. I won't say anything, because I hope you won't do it. I hope sire, you have a better option than that rattling around, or I picked the wrong island to work from."

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