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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



    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    Ravenford


    The Roost


    After Ser Caliban and Olyvar had introduced themselves as well, the little lady sat poised in her chair. The pleasant smile she had when she first came in had faded away. Her face was locked in intense thought.

    “The kings have little care for the Ravenford,” She finally said, “My father rode to Valona three years ago, with my mother and my brother and half of our house guard.”

    “My lady,” Artos laid a hand on his neice’s arm, “You shouldn’t speak of it-“

    “I will,” She snapped, yanking her arm back, “These people are honest with us. Why can’t we be the same?” She turned her eyes back to them. “My family rode to Valona on the King’s word. My father was close with the king when they were children, so Reynard wanted him to be his advisor. My father was wary. . .but he left anyways. . .”

    She looked at Lorain. “The few letters he wrote. . .they said awful things. The high lords, Rolmar and Santagar and Delmari, they were getting angry. Fenton was demanding their children, demanding their soldiers, demanding their coffers. He was going mad, father wrote one time. . .that was he last letter. . .”

    Claryssa bit her lip. “They beheaded him on the palace steps for treason, beside my mother, and my brother. The entire guard was put to the sword.

    “The Reynards crowned me the Little Lady of Ravenford.” She laughed bitterly. “Crowned me in my father’s blood. For that, I would harbor a thousand traitors. I would kiss each of their blades, and tie my ribbons to their arms.”

    The Little Lady stared at Ser Caliban.

    “You may stay here as long as you like, Ser. You’ll find our pantries and beds open to your entire army.”

    “I thank you, my lady, as does my battalion,” The knight fell to his knee before her. “We wouldn’t dare linger long, but a night’s rest in a castle would do us all good.”

    “Stay,” She smiled, “And eat.” She glanced back to Fleet. “Perhaps the adults might feast, while I show Fleet the castle? I haven’t had a new playmate in quite some time. . .” While the torment of her story still lingered in her eyes, it was obvious she was making an effort to be happy once more.



    TAG: Ktala, greyjedi125
     
  2. 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 had watched in horror as Captain Caradas had been thrown off his horse and smashed into the ground. His horse had ran off before she could grab it and she realized that her only hope was Isabella. She didn't even know if Isabella still had her horse or even if she was alive. She looked at the Captain’s wounds with a look of discontent on her face. There was a very strong scent of blood in the air around him. The snow above his neck was stained in a light red, and she saw a small line of blood slithering down his forehead ever so slowly. His moans though quiet, could be heard throughout the now snow covered mountain side.

    She waited sometime before she heard a clatter of hooves behind her. Helena turned around and was relieved to see her handmaiden on top of her horse. The girl jumped off and looked down at the captain with shock on her face. She started to look at his head wound. Helena stood behind them while slowly grazing her hand over the horse’s mane. Isabella had said something, but Helena hadn’t been listening. She didn’t care much about the captain’s wounds as much as she cared about getting out of the current situation.

    Helena refocused and heard Isabella tell her, “I. . .I can see his bones. . .”

    Upon hearing that news, Helena’s mind started racing. The three of them couldn’t possibly ride back to Shodaire. His wounds were too severe for the two of them to treat, especially with the very few supplies they had left. If we had more horses, then maybe, but we can’t fit three people on one horse...

    Helena crouched next to Isabella, the bottom of her dress completely covered in the white snow, and told her simply, “We have to leave him."

    Isabella looked up at the lady in disbelief. She glanced back down at the captain’s wound and said in a low voice, “But my lady-”

    “Captain Caradas’s job is to protect me with his life. By us leaving him here, he is doing his job,” Helena said with confidence.

    Isabella slowly nodded her head in agreement and stood. Helena stood up as well and walked towards the horse. She noticed that Isabella wasn’t following her. The handmaiden was still standing over the captain. She crouched down and wiped the blood off of his forehead, before gently giving him a kiss. She got back up, and walked towards Helena.

    Helena mounted the horse, while Isabella followed in suit. Once she was on, Helena motioned for the horse to move. As the captain was about to fall from their view, Isabella looked back.

    Helena kept on looking forward, never looking back, as the captain finally slipped from their view.


    TAG: spycoder9
     
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  3. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

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


    Lorain stayed quiet as Ser Caliban and Olyvar had introduced themselves. The little Lady's smile had fadded away, and an look of intense concentration, much more than her young years should hold, came over her face. Finally, she spoke. “The kings have little care for the Ravenford,” She finally said, “My father rode to Valona three years ago, with my mother and my brother and half of our house guard.”

    Then the lady began to tell them a story of betrayal. Artos tried to stop her from telling the tale, but the young girl yanked away from him. “These people are honest with us. Why can’t we be the same?” Lorain could have hugged the young girl after that. Lorain listened carefully to the young girl as she allowed herself to breathe once more, as the girl looked back towards them. And Lor listened to the story, of how the King had convinced her family and their guards to go with him to someplace called Calona, on the Kings word. And how the father noticed that the King was slowly going mad...just before Fenton killed her entire family, taking their heads as payment for what he thought was treason, along with the entire guard. Lorain found it difficult to not widen her eyes in surprise. So, the rumors were true. The man was mad. Gods help them all.

    “The Reynards crowned me the Little Lady of Ravenford.” She laughed bitterly. “Crowned me in my father’s blood. For that, I would harbor a thousand traitors. I would kiss each of their blades, and tie my ribbons to their arms.” Lorain bowed her head towards the young woman. It was no wonder then. She had to grown up fast. The Little Lady stared at Ser Caliban. “You may stay here as long as you like, Ser. You’ll find our pantries and beds open to your entire army.”

    “I thank you, my lady, as does my battalion,” The knight fell to his knee before the young girl. At least he did SOMETHING right, at least, Lorain thought to herself. He continued on, “We wouldn’t dare linger long, but a night’s rest in a castle would do us all good.”

    “Stay,” She smiled, “And eat.” She glanced back to Fleet. “Perhaps the adults might feast, while I show Fleet the castle? I haven’t had a new playmate in quite some time. . .” While the torment of her story still lingered in her eyes, it was obvious she was making an effort to be happy once more.

    Lorain really wanted to believe their good luck. But the past run in with nobles had left a bad taste in her mouth. She did trust the lady, but she wondered if perhaps she was trying to separate Fleet for other reasons. As she said, a new playmate. But as a child locked away in a castle, she could understand the want of a child, wanting another to play with as well. Not like she could exactly go out and play with the local children. Still, Lorain was new to the pitfalls of being a mother, and as such was a bit wary of letting her son go. But still, Fleet had proven himself many times over. Lorain gave the young lady a nod.

    "I thank ye, ya Grace for such a generous and kind offers. An I thinks that perhaps, Fleet might enjoy the company of someone a little nearer his own age as well, after all our travels, if that be his wish." Lorain answered carefully. She was not going to MAKE Fleet go with her. But if he was interested, he might find out more. If nothing else, if the ADULTS did plan anything more dangerous than a simple dinner, Fleet could possibly be safer with the young Lady. She gave a nod and a smile. Lorain had moved slightly, so that Fleet would see her hands within her tunic. Her fingers moved quickly. /Keep eyes sharp. Guards most likely hidden. Beware. You may eat what SHE eats. You may also go with her./

    Lorain then covered her face once more. If others were to join in the feast, she would stay hidden a while longer. Or perhaps simply excuse herself, and eat from her own pack. But it seemed that at least for the night, she would be destined to join them all. She hoped the black and purple behaved themselves. If they had any other agenda, Gods help them. Hopefully, their change of direction would throw off any others that might have also noted their entry into the area. Lorain would offer extra prayers this night. Her head felt like it would swim from all the possibilities. So, could they be counted as an ally? At least until it suited them. While the Lady might say so, Lorain was not too sure about the Uncle. So many places and chances for distrust and betrayal. How did the royals live like this? It did not seem as good a thing, as Lorain thought it once to be. Too many places where one must look for daggers to be plunged, from those you thought you could trust. Rather live the simple and honest life of a artisan. At least if you had enemies, you were more sure of where they came from.




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  4. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

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

    The Lady’s story…..it was……horrific. Though he felt a great measure of sympathy and sorrow for the Lady, Fleet couldn’t bring himself to imagine the horror the Lady Claryssa must have endured, to lose her family in such a manner, only to be left with such an embittered old man for an uncle.

    It seemed the life of a noble, though filled with wonders, was equally fraught with mortal dangers. Though he despised his former life as an urchin, his imagined envy of noble life was quickly sobering to something a bit less…fatalistic.

    Still, he felt a sense of wonder that the Lady had indeed endured such sorrow, and that she had trusted them enough to reveal it. A moment ago, he would have never imagined such a lovely face capable of uttering such a horrific story. How frustrating it must be for anyone attempting to protect his loved ones from pain and harm. Fleet could scarce imagine the reality of it, but he was beginning to get an idea.

    Gods Old and Nue, please keep the Lady safe.

    Fleet wiped the tear that had formed under his eye, as casually as he was able, not wanting to attract attention as he made sure to add the name Reynard to his ever growing list.

    “The Reynards crowned me the Little Lady of Ravenford. Crowned me in my father’s blood. For that, I would harbor a thousand traitors. I would kiss each of their blades, and tie my ribbons to their arms.”

    These words struck a chord deep within the would-be squire. So much so that he’d almost missed Ser Caliban kneeling before Lady Claryssa and thanking her for her hospitality.

    It looked like they were going to spend the night in the castle and not in the dungeons as suggested by the friendless castellan. They had been invited to stay and eat by the Lady of Ravenford herself.

    “Perhaps the adults might feast, while I show Fleet the castle? I haven’t had a new playmate in quite some time. . .”

    “Huh?” Fleet said, as he suddenly realized he was the topic of conversation.

    His eyes found that of the Lady and his face immediately became flushed with color. He reflexively averted his eyes. Stang! He needed to get better control of his reactions.

    Suddenly, he was glad he was standing next to Lorain. She was a constant source of strength and inspiration. The way she’d revealed her identity to the Lady was nothing short of astounding. Within himself, Fleet understood the lesson, how she’d decided to take a chance for all their sake, rather than remain hidden for selfish reasons. It was a good lesson he would not soon forget.

    His blue eyes caught sight of Lor’s hand-signs.

    /Keep eyes sharp. Guards most likely hidden. Beware. You may eat what SHE eats. You may also go with her/

    Fleet smiled as he made a quick and curt response. /Understood/. Then brought up his head, now that it was back to its normal color.

    “Your grace…” He said with a bow after stepping forth. “I would be honored go with yu.”

    He smiled now, feeling a bit more confident as he internally reviewed what little he knew, which was next to nothing, about dealing with nobles. Hopefully what he’d observed during their brief stay with the Kildare nobles would be enough. He was a son of the desert now, by default. It was time to be like a desert fox. Only if he knew what that was really like.

    Still, he’d have to watch how he spoke and think before opening his mouth. Had to sound proper and all.

    This…this was already making his head hurt, but he felt it would be worth it. To spend time with such a noble lady was something beyond his wildest dreams.


    Tag: @Ktala, @spycoder9
     
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  5. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Oct 10, 2013
    Leiliana Caine
    The Mountains of Mirwyth, 18 days before the Wedding
    Mountain Village Streets


    “Was it fun?” The little girl asked. Leiliana was about to answer, but another boy spoke up.


    “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?”


    "Um, yes, I hope to see you all later!" Leiliana ruffled the hair of the little girl and smiled at them all warmly before following Sierida, "If I remember correctly," Leiliana began, trying to change subject from Sierida's domineering interaction with the other children, "This flower to make a potion that can make you less likely to succumb to natural poisons, I'm not sure how useful that'd be to your village but if you touch ivy it'll soothe the pain, I suppose. But we'll need another reagent or two... My cart has my books in it."

    TAG: spycoder9
     
  6. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days After the Wedding


    The Desert of Mirwyth
    Kalkheim


    Great Hall



    “I apologize, m’lady,” The squire went back to kneeling before her, bringing with him a dirty blonde girl. “I have urgent news. Ser Caliban is pinned between pirates and Capitalmen, or he was a week ago. He sent me back to you, with the survivors of the Ravenford,” He gestured to the dirty people who had accompanied him.

    “They are all that is left.” The girl beside him whispered. “They are all that is left of my people.” She stood tall as she looked up at Ginnifer. Her emerald eyes were dotted with tears.

    “This is the Lady of the Ravenford,” Olyvar introduced. “Lady Claryssa Bristal.” Ginnifer would have heard her name tossed around, before the segregation of the lands. The House Bristal beheadings had been one of the first blows to Fenton’s reign.

    “Those pirates burned my lands,” The Little Lady spoke louder now, with more confidence. “They burned my lands, and killed my people. They ra. . .they. . .” Her eyes were furious and sad at the same time. “They raped my maid, my friend. They raped her, and killed my uncle, and left them for dead. . .” She was so angry her words fell short.

    “The Ravenford’s castellan mistook Desertmen for pirates. He had ravens sent out before he died,” Olyvar finished. “The Capital believes Ser Caliban burned the keep.”



    TAG: Trieste
     
  7. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Oct 10, 2013
    The Sand Fury
    Southern Edge of the Desert, Mirwyth
    6 Days Before the Wedding....

    The vast desert was shrouded in deep blue by the night sky, the sun had fallen long ago, and now a figure silently tread through the sand. No sound of footsteps, nor plumes of dust, not even a footprint left behind.

    The Sand Furies held a mystic presence in the minds of the Desert's inhabitants, if one could see the shadowed form, observe it's movements; it would be clear as to why many thought them demons. And perhaps they are. This one had spied a group of humans moving through the sands, her sands. Anger swelled within the Sand Fury at the very presence of outsiders, each footstep echoed through their hidden canyons and ruins, all humanity were invaders in the land of their god. And this group... What purpose did they have...

    Ducking low as she moved over a dune, she broke into a run, an arm held before her and the other behind. The camp was silent, there was no guard standing watch, the two that were awake were sitting around a small fire. The Sand Fury fumed at the sight of it, but continued on, slinking between the tents while the two soldiers were oblivious to her presence.

    Outside of one a fox lounged in the sand, cooled by the night air, it must have smelled the food the men had cooked up over the fire. It raised it's head at seeing her approach, she knelt down and returned the gaze, it lowered it's head in submission averting it's gaze; though stealing glances at the creature before it. The creatures of the desert lived within the laws of it's environment, they did not seek to change the land, or claim it. They merely existed, as the Sand Furies existed as instruments of Hsamozaal.

    The fox stood up and trotted away, head and tail lowered. The Sand Fury watched it leave before continuing her observation of the tents, the humans were not looking for them, no marks of Hsamozaal had been left by the Sand Furies, and none had been collected by the humans. Was it a scouting party, preparing for war?

    The last tent the Sand Fury came to was no bigger than the rest, but she sensed a different presence within them, an... Innocence. The creature opened the tent flap, there lay a small boy and a large human woman. Nothing could be said of them beyond that, she regarded them only for a moment, before closing the tent and sneaking out of the camp. The Sand Fury turned back to the camp as she reached the top of a near by dune... Their purpose would be discovered soon, and she would be ready to act when it was made clear.

    Her form faded as she sank into the sand.

    TAGS: spycoder9
     
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  8. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    Ravenford


    The Roost



    “Thank you,” The Little Lady dipped her head to Lorain in gratitude. “Come with me, Fleet.”

    They slipped through the doorway from which Claryssa had entered. It led out to a covered stone crosswalk, one of the two that linked the main castle to its side towers. A few guards passed them as they walked, decked in either shiny silver armor, or dark black. An older maid wandered past as well. She gave her greetings to the Lady.

    “Fleet,” Claryssa rolled his name off her tongue. “What an odd name. I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind it.”

    The smile she gave him resembled the one she had first gave them when introduced.

    “Do tell.”



    In the Little Lady’s absence, Artos Redwood sent word through one of the guards that the entire Desert army was to be taken to the Dining Hall, where they may feast and be merry. As the guard slipped away, the castellan turned his eyes back on Ser Caliban, Olyvar, and Lorain.

    “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” He gestured back to the food. “I apologize for my initial distrust. We’ve had two encounters with visitors in the past fortnight, and neither has done anything except wreak havoc.” The castellan took his seat back by the fire. His face was still stone, but as he munched on bread and poured himself some wine, it was tired stone. “The first came through in the dead of night. Picked their way through the villages, stole a few civilians, raped a few women. They were small packs though, and we just increased patrol in the outer villages.” Redwood sighed. “It didn’t help.”

    “They stole civilians?” Ser Caliban asked, while hesitantly slicing himself a bit of cheese. “Kidnapped them?”

    “Yes,” The castellan eyed the knight. “Strange, too, who they picked.”

    “How so?”

    “We’ve had our fair share of pirates and slavers through the years. A raid here or there. Most were put out before they amounted to anything. The people we’d always find on those ships, about to be carted away, were women and children. The weak ones, the ones who’d go with less of a fight.” Artos took a sip. “These marauders. . .they kidnapped men. Grown men. Capable ones, some of the best fishers and farmers of the Ravenford.”

    Ser Caliban glanced at Lorain, but didn’t say a word.

    “And then, about a week ago, we had the actual raid. They did the same as the last. Kidnapped builders, kidnapped farmers. . .they kidnapped the very patrolmen protecting the villages! They stole our crops, and set blaze to the rest of the fields outside the gates. We’re lucky to have gardens inside the castle as well, enough to sustain us for a time.” The castellan shook his head. “Claryssa. . .I told her we burned the crops. That our product wasn’t fairing well, and we had enough time to replant again. I think she believed me. . .she’s been through so much. . .”

    “She seems like a strong lady,” Olyvar said. His voice was strange, considering he had said very little so far.

    “She is. She’s one of the strongest. . .but even the strongest trees can fall. . .” He paused. “Twelve year old girls shouldn’t be ruling lands. They should be sewing, and riding horses, and swimming in the streams.”

    “We’ve come to end these pirates, m’lord,” Ser Caliban said. “I will rescue my brother, and your people, and protect your lands as well as I can. Lorain. . .she knows what the ships look like. . .”

    The castellan turned his attention towards her.

    “Lorain. . .Ashkey, you said?” Artos took another sip of wine. “How’d you come to know of these pirates?”



    TAG: @greyjed125, Ktala
     
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  9. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

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

    Fleet felt as if he could flap his arms and fly, that’s how happy and fancy-free he was feeling. He smiled and laughed more than he ever did as he walked with Lady Claryssa. Her emerald eyes seemed to sparkle and her silky blonde hair bounced with her every step. He even thought he perceived the scent of flowers coming from her. She seemed like a very nice girl, graceful and sweet. Her radiant smile made made him feel like flying.

    From atop the crosswalk he could see the castle gardens, to him they looked glorious, even if they were not. The air was crisper and the sky was clearer…he couldn’t find words to describe the simple joy he was feeling.

    He even nodded at the guards and bowed to the maid. Was he supposed to bow to maids? Oh well….

    “Fleet…” he heard Claryssa say, and turned immediately to face her, a bright smile of his own at the ready as a token of her special company.

    “What an odd name.” She stated. Fleet’s bright smile wavered. Was there something wrong with his name? Well…of course there was. He wasn’t highborn.
    His smile was beginning to fade, a sour feeling began to creep at the edges of his heartfelt wonder.

    “I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind it.”

    The smile Claryssa gave him melted away all his sudden apprehensions and he felt warmth rush to his face. How could he have misunderstood something so simple?

    “Do tell.” Claryssa nudged brightly, clearly interested.

    Fleet became terribly self aware and almost lost his footing as he tried to navigate feelings of inadequacy. Here he was, a former urchin who had no name, who now was adopted by one of the strongest persons he’d ever known in his short life. He had introduced himself as Fleet Ashkey, the son of Lorain Ashkey. He was no longer unclean and unwanted. He needed not be ashamed.

    Besides, Lady Bristal had lost her family in a most horrific way and was left with a most dour Uncle to watch over her. She’d been open and honest about her origins. He needn’t spin some urchin’s tale. She deserved better than that. Lorain had shown trust, how could he do any less?

    “Sorry, your grace, I seem t’ have lost me footin’…” Fleet said with a nervous laugh as he caught himself, then straightened. Lorain wasn’t around to give him hints as to what he should say. This was….this was a bit overwhelming. He was on his own, but ‘Mum’ believed in him. She always did. He needed to believe in himself as well.

    “Well…hum….yu see….uhm….”

    His heart was racing, so he took a few calming breaths. The truth...might be painfully disappointing.

    ‘G’ it together ya stammering’ mongrel…the lady’ll end up laughing her pretty self at yu so bad - you’ll be thrown’ y’self off the walkway…’ The young man mentally chided himself.

    “Well…it’s a long story yu’ see…lot’s a boren details……”

    The Lady’s emerald eyes were too captivating for words, and the look of genuine interest in her face was unbearable.

    “……I……don’t remember my real name, your grace…..I …grew up in an orphanage, far far away yu see, uhm….the others, they gave me my name. Fleet is what they called me ‘cause I could out run them all. They thought it wus a fancy name…those slow pokes!”

    Fleet laughed at memory, not because it was pleasant, but because it was officially part of his past. No one was chasing him any longer. No one was trying to ‘hand him a proper beatin’.

    The Lady’s chuckle was quite pleasant for which he was glad, it encouraged him to continue; it lent him courage.

    “They couldn’t catch me your grace, no matter how hard those buggers tried….”

    Ooops!.

    Fleet winced at his verbal lapse, but quickly apologized.

    “Sorry your grace, ah got caught up in the moment…”

    Clearing his throat, he resolved to proceed. His blue eyes never left the Lady’s face. He wanted to remember her every expression, to recall the depth of her loveliness whenever he closed his eyes.

    “Well, there’s not much t’ tell…except that ah travelled, from toun to toun. I’d hitch rides on caravans. I’d make this really sad face so they would take me aboard, instead of havin t’ walk for leagues…”

    Fleet showed her the sad face he would make, but the truth was, he was truly desperate during those times. The art of begging had kept him alive more times than he’d care to count. It was a pitiful memory. For just a second, he had to look away as a lost and forgotten bitterness tried to taint the moment. No, that was no longer who he was.

    “But now I’m Fleet Ashkey!” he declared with renewed brightness and pride.

    “I’d like to be a squire, or a protector of some kind…or maybe a proper Knight.” At that last part, he took a gamble and gave the fair lady a wink.

    “But I think Lor would have to be a proper Knight first, b’fore I could be a proper squire. I think that's how it works.”

    A question entered his mind just then, one that he’d been meaning to ask Olyvar for sometime now, but the Lady also qualified to answer it, at least in his mind. Tilting his head, Fleet adopted a pensive look.

    “Forgive me for asking your grace, but, have yu ever seen a Lady Knight b’fore?”

    He figured it was a good question, since she was likely to know about such things.

    Tag: @spycoder9 (@Ktala )


    (I typed this while sleepy, sorry if its a bit wonky, but I just HAD to respond! LOL )
     
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  10. BoomBachen

    BoomBachen Jedi Youngling

    Registered:
    Apr 5, 2014
    Mairar Meade, Son of Lord Darridan Meade
    The Main Gate, Misty Top Lands, the Mountains



    Mairar stood firm as his father’s party left the gates. He left the waving and goodbyes to the rest of them. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, he nodded to his family – the sign to head back to the keep. They were a small group with a few friends and distant relatives stopping by with a few words. At the front of the party, Ser Mauler and Ser Kruegar escorted the family, and he believed Ser Fisk to be the rear guard. Ser Talos slumped along in the middle, holding himself like he was talking to a friend.

    Darros laughed as he pulled Hanna into his arms. Her cheeks were tinged red, but she laid her head on his chest nonetheless.

    “Darros, please.” Mairar said, “We’re in public.” His brother paid no attention.

    "Darros, did you see my new dress?" Cecillia exclaimed cheerfully. Darros turned his head to see her, letting his grip on Hanna loosen.

    "It looks very nice. Was it one of Sara's?" Darros asked.

    “It used to be mine.” Sara tucked a string of Cecillia’s hair behind her ear. “It looks so much better on Cecillia.”

    “I thought. . .” Justile had turned away from whispering with her little maid. “I thought you promised me that dress.”

    “I didn’t think you liked the embroidery.” Sara seemed to chew over every word carefully. It was something everyone had to do when speaking to Justile.

    “I love the embroidery.” Justile said.

    “I can sew you one, milady.” Sarine tried, as always, to appease her noble friend. “Or we could together-"

    “Justile? Sew?” Sierra giggled. “I sew better than her!”

    “You do not!” Justile cried out, one of the few times she actually raised her voice.

    “I do too! You can’t even sew a straight line!”

    “Justile, I sincerely doubt you could fit into that dress anymore,” Mairar finally came in on the argument. “I don’t see what the fuss is about.” Immediately he received glares from Cecillia and Sara, laughter from Sierra, and a gasp from Justile.

    “Mairar, you may want to. . .” Garron stopped, recognizing the change in his sister’s face. Justile’s face was gradually growing redder. Odd for someone with a face normally so pale. Amidst the redness, Justile's eyes rimmed with tears.

    “I hate you,” she whispered, before taking off for the castle. Her little companion Sarine trailed behind.

    “That was uncalled for, Mairar.” Arjen rarely spoke, but when he did, his words held weight in the group. “Bad taste for a brother, disrespectful for a lord. What would Father say?"

    "I. . .I didn't mean to say. . .I just meant she's larger than Cecillia is, like I'm bigger than Garron!” Mairar said, becoming even more flustered as he spoke. It was an age statement, not-"

    "Calm down Mairar," Darros interjected. "I doubt any of us haven't made Justile cry one time or another. She'll go write or paint, and be over it by tomorrow." Though Darros had been on Mairar's nerves, this was actually a somewhat comforting statement. I’ll never tell him that though. While the majority of the siblings nodded in agreement, Arjen just kept looking forwards.

    There was a lull in the conversation after Justile’s swift departure, but Garron broke it.

    "Mairar, I-I-I was thinking that we could m-maybe spar a little today, b-because Ser B-Buckham Senior showed a few th-things and –“ The words came out fast and stuttered, which meant that Garron legitimately cared for what he was saying.

    "I'm sorry Garron," Mairar started. "I’ll be rather busy for the next few weeks. Maybe after father returns. . .you could spar with Dammon."

    "Dammon!?" Garron said, as if that were an insult. "He's seven! And besides, he'd have to put down his stuffed pet to hold the sword!"

    "He doesn't need a sword to beat you. I bet you'd just end up tripping over yourself,” Sierra said without even looking at Garron.

    Garron reached over them and snatched the stuffed dog quickly from Dammon's hands, causing the seven year old to let out a shriek. "Or I could just attack his weak point!" Garron meant it all in good fun, but as most 14 year olds, he didn't quite understand humor yet.

    "Give it back!" Sierra made a jump for the dog.

    Mairar was still flustered from Justile. He kept thinking, Should I go talk to her? The commotion brought him back to the present.

    "Garron, give him the stupid dog back," Mairar snapped.

    "We have to see how he fights!" Garron laughed as he lifted the dog higher and higher, out of Sierra's reach. "He has to start sometime!" Dammon made a whimpering noise, the silence before the storm.

    "Garron," Sara spoke softly to her brother, "Give Dammon his dog back." She laid a hand on Garron's shoulder.

    "I was just playing. . ." Garron tossed the dog back to Dammon, who buried his face into it. "Have some fun once in awhile." He shouldered his way past Darros and Hanna.

    "Father would be so proud of us." Arjen said with a dripping sarcasm. He left as well, following Garron to the training yards.

    "If they can leave, we are." And without another word, Sierra dragged Dammon off another "adventure" of hers.

    The castle lay directly ahead of them, but only four of the Mairar kids had managed to make it all the way together.

    "This shows how close we are, doesn't it?" Sara said. She gave Mairar a glimpse of her weary green eyes, before taking Cecillia by the hand. The two of them walked towards their chambers. Cecillia cast a glance back at them, her eyes almost as sad as her sister's, before they rounded a corner and were gone.

    "This has been fun, but me and Hanna are going-" Darros started.

    "It’s Hanna and I,” Mairar interjected. “And no you're not. I will not have father return to a pregnant Hanna.”

    Darros opened and closed his mouth. He’s a young man, and wishes it could be that way. Hanna was blushing again.

    "What'll you have me do then?" Darros asked. The brothers stared at each other for a few seconds, but the moment was broken by the ever-so-old Ser Monroe. Tired, he leaned on his cane as he approached them.

    "Ser Monroe!" Darros visibly brightened. "Have you met my betrothed?"

    "I have," The elderly knight smiled at her. "We met in the gardens one day, did we not?"

    "We did, ser." Hanna said.

    "She will make a fair bride." Ser Monroe admonished. Hanna blushed, her cheeks turning a deep crimson.

    "I see you have business to attend to." Darros hooked his arm in Hanna's. "We'll leave the two of you to your discussions."

    "Mi'lord,” Ser Monroe said as the couple left, “Your father requested I counsel you on ruling while he is away.”

    “Then counsel away.” The gods know I’ll need it with my family.



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  11. Ktala

    Ktala Jedi Grand Master star 6

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

    Lorain watched silently, as she bade Fleet to follow her, and together the slipped out the doorway that the young lady had entered. Lorain gave a soft sigh, and then turned her attentions back to the others still in the room. Let Fleet enjoy himself, while he can. The dangers will be back on them soon enough. Time to enjoy something he probably had not had a chance to do in a long time. Play. Once the children had left, Ser Redwood sent word for the others to feast and be merry. Lorain didnt feel much like a party, even though it seemed that they had indeed found safety, at least for the night. So she simply stayed silent, as the Castellan turned to look at them once more. “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” He gestured back to the food. “I apologize for my initial distrust. We’ve had two encounters with visitors in the past fortnight, and neither has done anything except wreak havoc.” The castellan took his seat back by the fire. His face was still stone, but as he munched on bread and poured himself some wine. He looked tired. If the images and distruction they had passed through on their way here was any indication, she was not surpised. The man continued, “The first came through in the dead of night. Picked their way through the villages, stole a few civilians, raped a few women. They were small packs though, and we just increased patrol in the outer villages.” Redwood sighed. “It didn’t help.”

    “They stole civilians?” Ser Caliban asked, while hesitantly slicing himself a bit of cheese. “Kidnapped them?”

    “Yes,” The castellan eyed the knight. “Strange, too, who they picked.”

    “How so?”

    “We’ve had our fair share of pirates and slavers through the years. A raid here or there. Most were put out before they amounted to anything. The people we’d always find on those ships, about to be carted away, were women and children. The weak ones, the ones who’d go with less of a fight.” Artos took a sip. “These marauders. . .they kidnapped men. Grown men. Capable ones, some of the best fishers and farmers of the Ravenford.”

    Ser Caliban glanced at Lorain, but didn’t say a word. Lorain stayed silent as well. So it was the mad King. It was the same pattern again. Again.

    Artos continued, “And then, about a week ago, we had the actual raid. They did the same as the last. Kidnapped builders, kidnapped farmers. . .they kidnapped the very patrolmen protecting the villages! They stole our crops, and set blaze to the rest of the fields outside the gates. We’re lucky to have gardens inside the castle as well, enough to sustain us for a time.” The castellan shook his head. Lorain was now certain that the fact that they had been in the city was no accident. But, had not her father told her they were waiting for a special ore..to make weapons for a certain house? Gideon’s, was it? A Mountain house. How did dad know the name of the ship? Someone had to tell him. A traitor? Someone who was told to look for certain people? Lorain's thoughts were interrupted as Artos continued. “Claryssa. . .I told her we burned the crops. That our product wasn’t fairing well, and we had enough time to replant again. I think she believed me. . .she’s been through so much. . .”

    “She seems like a strong lady,” Olyvar suddenly spoke up. He sounded a bit off, but since Lorain didnt know the man well, it was hard to pinpoint what exactally she felt was different about the man.

    Atros nodded. “She is. She’s one of the strongest. . .but even the strongest trees can fall. . .” He paused. “Twelve year old girls shouldn’t be ruling lands. They should be sewing, and riding horses, and swimming in the streams.” Lorain simply nodded in agreement. She felt the same of Fleet. He should be playing, and exploring his options. Not simply trying to survive. But war was nasty business, and the young and innocent were often made to pay the price.

    “We’ve come to end these pirates, m’lord,” Ser Caliban said. “I will rescue my brother, and your people, and protect your lands as well as I can. Lorain. . .she knows what the ships look like. . .” Lorain's eyes snapped back towards the pair, as she heard her name being called. 'Oh NOW I'm useful to ya? Idjit..' Lorain thought to herself. The castellan turned his attention towards her.

    “Lorain. . .Ashkey, you said?” Artos took another sip of wine. “How’d you come to know of these pirates?”

    Lorain tilted her head slightly, as she gave a deep sigh. "I know of them Ser, because I was in Caraba's when it was attacked. It was a huge warship. And da pirates did da sames thing. Take the men, while killing the women. They came looking for skilled labor. An now, I sees they had inside help. Spies. My da was told to show up for da ship at da harbor, looking for special metals, em being a blacksmith. But it was a lie, to get em there. But things went wrong, and de killed em. So I killed a bunch of em. But de dogs fight unfair, and knocked me out. I woke up on their ship. De wanted me to fights for em, or to play sport." Lorain's eyes shined, but she didnt explain further. Instead, she continued on. "Dat is how I met the other. He asked me to go to the Groves, and warn em of what happened. I escaped, jumped ship, and ended up nears Aqarda. Then I find out de knights of King Fenton was in on it as well, attacking villages near the coast, and selling its people into slavery."

    Lorain looked at the glass of water nearby, but she didnt drink it. Instead, she just ran her fingers around the rim of the glass. "So I knows them well enough." Lorain grew quiet once more, as she let her fingers play against the rim of the cup, a dark look taking over her features.



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  12. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Isles of Mirwyth
    Breezecroft


    Docks



    "You speak bravely, Tuckman," Lord Moorecroft said, "Good thing I admire that in a man, especially a sailor."

    He shook his head. "But you're wrong about me. These men aren't necessarily slaves. They're criminals, and people of my service who have been especially unruly. The Crag is where men of this nature belong."

    The Lord gestured out to the busy paths. "Perhaps I would be selling them, but I would be saving everyone else. These men I send with you. . .they aren't the type to work with others. They cause anarchy, and spread lies. They are the root of this panic that has seized Breezecroft in the last few days. If we use Delmaristead as an example of what a panicked people might do. . .you should understand my reasons for wanting them gone."

    He made a fist. "I need you for this, Tuckman. None of the others would I expect to be as honest with me as you have. I'm wiser than the King, sad as that is. I trust only those who tell me the truth."

    "I find you to be one of those people."




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  13. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

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

    As he was prepared to beat a hasty retreat to the sea, he was shocking into being still at what the Strings had yet to say. The whole thing. He stood with mouth slightly agape at the notions and words that kept spilling forth. He had heard of prisoners being sent into exile, but being sold into forced labor was something. . .something else.

    What was it that gave him pause. The Strings had finished his words and yet Tuckman stood fast by, as though some great thing had slowed him. He squinted at the man, need, yes that was the word. He needed him? Who besides a customer in straights needed any man truly? Yet there was no denying that the man had that look, and had that manner that so imparted more than tone, the truth was spoken. Though he could not fathom the how or the why.

    "You make me pause, Sire. Is this deal fast? This a thing that must be done to keep the peace between the Isle and the Mountain? Yet only one tawdry question remains besides. Do you need the money?" He looked fast and hard at the man, his eyes squinted, his hand open and slightly raised. What came next was sure to be telling, and decide whether Tuckman with shaking hands would grab the till that was set before him.

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  14. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    12 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    The Wolfswood


    Camp



    On the third morning after the avalanche, Helena opened her eyes to a wolf looming over her.

    Snow from the avalanche had covered some of the path, so Helena and Isabella had spent the past two days drifting through a thick pine forest. There was not a soul in sight.

    After going an entire day without eating, Isabella picked berries from a bush. They tasted delicious, but the maid and lady spent the following evening throwing up any and everything they had in their stomachs. They found fresh water in small springs that peppered the wood, enough that they wouldn’t die of thirst. But after the berries, they had been wary to pick anything else, and Isabella’s trapping skills were almost as bad as Helena’s. The maid did know how to light a fire, so they didn’t go cold in the frosty evenings.

    The night before, Isabella had lain close beside Helena, so that they might keep each other warm.

    “What if they aren’t any people out here?” She asked Helena before her eyes had closed. Helena assured her there was, and the maid went to sleep comforted by her lady’s words.

    It was on this third morning that Dayvid and Sage, having trekked this forest many a time, stumbled upon the two women huddled together. Sage crept overhead them, and breathed deep in their faces.

    Isabella screamed.



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  15. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    18 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Mountain Village


    Centre



    Sierida and Leiliana spent the rest of the daylight hours frolicking about, finding Leiliana’s cart, and searching for remedies.

    “You’re sweet, Leiliana,” Sierida told her one time, as she picked a flower and sniffed it. “Maybe everyone should be raised with old men.”

    They had a good time searching, though eventually Sierida said it was getting late, and her father would be looking for her. As they came back into the village, there was a middle-aged man with a thick black beard that hung to his stomach waiting at the centre.

    “Papa!” Seirida ran and wrapped her arms around the man’s wide berth. He laughed and patted her on the head. He looked up from her to Leiliana. “Papa, this is Leiliana! She’s an alchemist!”

    “An alchemist, eh?” He eyed Leiliana. “You from Avos?”



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  16. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    The Ravenford


    The Roost


    The Little Lady shook her head.

    “I’ve never seen a female knight before, but Lorain looks as much like one as any man,” She said with an appreciative nod. Her nose suddenly perked up, as she ran to the side of the crosswalk and sniffed.

    She grabbed Fleet’s arm, grinning.

    “Aimee's fixing apple pies! They're the best. You must try one.” Her smile fell. “Of course, she only lets me have one at dinner. . ." Claryssa looked at Fleet, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Perhaps . .you and I could get a few without her knowing?"



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  17. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

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

    “I’ve never seen a female knight before, but Lorain looks as much like one as any man,” Lady Claryssa said with a nod.

    Fleet smiled, glad that Lorain at least looked the part of a Knight, but he did feel a bit disappointed that there seemed to be no female knights of note. He still wondered if indeed there were none. Perhaps his mum could be the first. Ever.

    That thought brought on a grin to his face.

    The lady was suddenly in motion, and Fleet wondered what he’d missed. When she suddenly grabbed his arm, his heart almost stopped, then restarted, but at a much faster rate. Though he felt himself turn red again, he did not look away, entranced by the sheer loveliness of her face.

    He also silently wished for her never to let go.

    But what had excited her so, all of a sudden?

    “Aimee's fixing apple pies! They're the best. You must try one.” Lady Claryssa announced with a grin.

    The Lady’s bright smile suddenly vanished for no discernible reason. Fleet frowned in concern and took a step closer.

    “Of course, she only lets me have one at dinner. . ." Claryssa said, now looking at Fleet, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Perhaps you and I could get a few without her knowing?"

    Fleet shared a moment of impish smiles and chuckling with the Lady, hardly believing that she’d confect such a scheme. Could it be that it was because he’d revealed some of his past? Did she somehow know that he…he had been a thief?

    Fleet’s smile slowly began to wane as a memory materialized itself within his mind’s eye.

    Spot. The boy had received that nickname due to the birthmark on his face. He was neither a good or a bad thief. Somedays he was lucky, others not so much. Still, the day he had been caught for stealing from a particular traveling merchant, marked the end of his thieving career.

    Fleet remembered how those men had held him down as he vainly squirmed and hollered. He tried his best to fight them, but they held him down and stretched his arm out. Most of his thieving comrades had fled the scene, but Fleet could not simply run away. He was hiding and scared -stricken by guilt, fear and terrible helplessness. His blue eyes never wavered as he shed tears for his friend. The cleaver came down swiftly, chopping off the boy’s hand clean.

    Fleet would never forget that heart stoppig scream. It chilled his soul. The men seemed amused at the boy’s suffering…a boy who was now lame.

    Fleet did not know their names, but in his heart, he vowed to somehow make them pay.

    Young Ashkey shivered, as if a cold wind had passed.

    He had little doubt that he might suffer a similar fate here. The castellan would make sure of that, or worse, throw him into a dungeon for him to rot in- after taking his hand. Desert folk weren’t liked in these parts, not only that, he was also low-born. Whoever Aimee was, she would surely never think of harming the Lady of the Ravenford…but a low-born desert urchin?

    In addition, Fleet didn’t know his way around this place, or the placing of the guards. No idea where to hide or go unseen. He would be taking a big risk.

    The boy held back a sigh.

    This, his once chance to impress the lovely Lady Clarissa might just cost him his hand. Yes, there was that, but he was also an Ashkey now, not just an unwanted orphan. How would he be able to live with himself if he brought shame to Lorain? Surely, she had not saved him just so he could indulge such whims.

    Fleet’s blue eyes fixed themselves on the lovely lady as he wet his lips before speaking. Suddenly, he got down on one knee and fell to the floor, eyes down cast.

    “I beg your grace her forgiveness. I fear the castellan would take my good hand for such a deed. Perhaps there is…um…some ‘other’ way for me to serve yu?”

    Fleet stayed in that position, not wanting to see the disappointment in the Lady’s eyes. In another place, in another time, he would have jumped at the opportunity. But now, he had to be very careful. He was a survivor after all- and more. He was a desert fox too, albeit a small one. If he’d learned one thing from the stories Lorain shared with him, it’s that the gods were watching, and they never forgot.

    Justice would be served, sooner or later.


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  18. Trieste

    Trieste Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 10, 2010
    (This is a joint post with spycoder9)

    IC: Lady Ginnifer Kildare
    Alcazar, Kalkheim, Fair Groves, Desert
    6 days after her brother’s wedding


    Ginnifer listened with growing dread as she heard of the fate of the Ravenford. The Ravenford were not Desert lands--they were part of the Capital province--Ginnifer knew this much. She knew enough to be worried, very worried.

    “You must control your countenance and bearing at all times. You will receive news that is foul, for the world ever seeks to lay waste to our happiness. Be ready for such times that you do not betray your own feelings. Not only will your enemies find you harder to take the measure of, but your allies will draw upon your strength. You will be the rock without which they would scatter.”

    Her mother’s advice had taken hold and Ginnifer did her best to remain unflinching as she heard of the depredations visited upon the Ravenford...and who would be believed to be the cause.

    All of a sudden, the Fair Groves were plunged into peril once more.

    Ginnifer stood from her seat and descended to where the party stood. She folded the dusty young girl into her, resting Claryssa’s head against her breast with her good hand.

    “There there,” Ginnifer said, “You have experience grief beyond your years and for that you have my sympathy. Rest, for now. We shall think of these things later.”

    The Lady of the Fair Groves entrusted Claryssa to one of the stewards. “See to their needs,” she instructed, and to Claryssa, “Sleep well, my Lady.”

    For all her outward calm, Ginnifer roiled inside. Curse her uncle, Ginnifer thought, He will cause me more trouble in death than he could have ever done in life. Just when she was beginning to get a footing on the new landscape of Mirwyth it shifted again. The god of fire never stood still, and neither did the events of man.

    This put the Fair Groves in great peril. Ginnifer had to do something--but she also had the demands of the moment upon her. Once Claryssa, Olyvar, and the survivors of the Ravenford were shown out, she looked at Zooey, who had watched the whole thing aghast from the side of the hall.

    “What are we going to do?” Zooey asked, her face communicating the depths to which this news had shattered her.

    “How many more supplicants are waiting?” Ginnifer asked.

    Zooey blinked. “Four, but that’s not the bigger issue right now. We need to figure out what to do. The Reynards are going to come for us now.”

    “I will,” Ginnifer said, “but I am the Lady of the Fair Groves and four of my subjects seek an audience with me. They cannot go home disappointed. Do you understand Zooey?”

    “Y...yes,” Zooey said, still trying to get a handle on what had just happened.

    “Then show the first one in,” Ginnifer said, assuming her seat once more.



    That night, as the travelers from the Ravenford slept, Ginnifer walked the cool halls of the alacazar. She did not traverse these particular stones often, but when she did she had a very particular purpose--as she did now. With her gauntleted first curled into a fist, Ginnifer knocked on the door.

    It swung open a short moment later with speed, wind sucking into the chamber beyond.

    “Yes?” A pause. “What do you want...my lady.”

    Regina Kildare was usually not pleased to see her niece and liege lady and tonight was no exception.

    “Some of your time, to start,” Ginnifer said, “May I?”

    “I would never presume to bar my lady from any part of her castle,” Regina said. Ginnifer stepped inside and Regina shut the door--firmly--behind her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” The last word was not delivered with sarcasm, but they both knew that it lay underneath all the same.

    “I have a task for you,” Ginnifer said, not sitting.

    “Scrubbing the kitchen floors perhaps?” Regina said acerbically, “I’m sure they’ve suffered without your lady’s maid’s attention.”

    “Something considerably more important,” Ginnifer said. She was starting to get testy and she knew she couldn’t. She needed Regina. “You heard about Lady Bristal’s arrival?”

    “I heard that your cousin Caliban is apparently so daft that wearing a suit of armor he can be mistaken for a pirate,” Regina snorted.

    “This is serious,” Ginnifer said sternly.

    “Yes, you impressed that upon us a while back,” Regina said, “Don’t think I’m as stupid as your cousin. Your father King of the Desert. Your cousin raiding the Capital lands. The Reynards will see this as the prelude to the first battle of this War. Our house is going to be viewed as the vanguard of this rebellion. You should have just made war on Reynard when you had the element of surprise rather than trying to keep us out of it.”

    An easy thing for you to say when the safety of the Fair Groves isn’t on your conscience, Ginnifer thought. “But we have Claryssa Bristal, witness to the massacre, and she knows that we did not do it. And she came to us.”

    Regina’s eyes narrowed with the beginning of understanding.

    “Claryssa shall be our ward from thence forward,” Ginnifer said, “She cannot be allowed to leave us. She is our surety now. She will tell Mirwyth who was truly responsible for her people’s death and of how kind the Kildares are to her, a family that is incapable of such terrible things.

    “But she will only do it if she has someone who reminds her what love is again. Someone who loves her fiercely, who would shield her from all that would harm her.

    “Of everyone in Kalkheim, I know of only one such mother.”

    “Absolutely not,” Regina said immediately.

    “Regina,” Ginnifer pleaded, “We do not see eye-to-eye on much, but I will never dispute the depth of your love for Tamzin and Samara. It is the best part of you.” With her good hand Ginnifer clutched Regina’s forearm. “Regina, this girl needs you.”

    “No, you need her,” Regina said.

    Ginnifer was finding her aunt more resistant than she anticipated. “No, I need you!” she blurted out. It was the only thing that she could think of that might have some effect.

    “So there it is,” Regina said, shaking Ginnifer’s hand off, “‘Regina I need you,’ now and what will I get in return? The scorn of your siblings, just like I had from your mother?”

    “Don’t do it for me, do it for Claryssa.”

    “Give her to Zooey,” Regina sneered, “Let’s see how she does when her actions affect another person and she’s not casting stones at other people’s huts anymore.”

    “You and I both know that Zooey could never care for Claryssa the way you could. She’s not ready,” Ginnifer said. And I need her for other things. “Regina, look at me and tell me that you feel nothing for a girl without a mother and a father, a girl who has no one to protect her.”

    Regina looked away at that, and turned from Ginnifer. There it was--that was the mark. It had taken many arrows, but one had hit. Her aunt walked away and bent over a table, supporting herself with both her hands. She said nothing, apparently thinking.

    “She has no one?” Regina asked, her voice without the flinty tone it had formerly carried.

    “Would she be here if she did?” Ginnifer posed in return.

    Another pause. “I shall care for the girl as my own,” Regina said without turning around.

    “Thank you, for her sake,” Ginnifer said. She lightly crossed the room and placed her good hand on Regina’s shoulders. “There is one more thing.”



    Guest chambers, Alcazar, Kalkheim, Fair Groves, Desert
    7 days after the wedding


    “...so I’m going to take care of you,” Regina said, patiently, kindly, to Claryssa, “because my mother died when I was very young too. I’m going to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to you again. I promise.”

    “So many people have promised me so many things.” The little lady looked to Regina with weary eyes. “How ...how can I know you're different from the rest?”

    Regina paused. “When my mother died, I was just a baby. I had just been born. My father didn't live much longer than that,” she said, “I had a sister and a brother and they were supposed to take care of me. My sister…” Regina looked away and then looked back at Claryssa. “My sister didn't like me. She blamed me for the death of our mother. She didn't even talk to me and when she did she had nothing nice to say. My brother was better, but he was more interested in swords and horses and other things like that.

    “I may have had family, but I was more alone than if I had no family at all. No one, no one, should ever be that alone.”

    The dark haired mother bent to her knees and took Claryssa by the shoulders. “I swear, on the lives of my daughters, that if you want it, I will look after you,” Regina said, “Nothing is ever going to change that. Not this war, not a king or queen, nothing.”

    Claryssa stood riveted in Regina's grip, green eyes meeting brown. Finally Claryssa forged her way forward and wrapped her own arms around Regina's neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, so faint that Regina could barely hear it.

    Regina hugged Claryssa back. She smiled. It was a smile of relief, of joy, of being accepted.

    “You will be like a daughter to me,” Regina said.

    After a short time, she released Claryssa from her embrace. “Claryssa--” for it would not do to call her own ward Lady Bristal, “--Lady Ginnifer told me what you said about your uncle and his ravens. You know what is going to happen, don't you?”

    “War.” Claryssa's face paled. “The Ravenford was only the beginning, wasn't it?”

    “It may be,” Regina said, “but you might be able to stop it and save the lives of hundreds, thousands.”

    “How?” Claryssa asked.

    “Do you know what the words of House Kildare are?”

    “I...I don't.” The little girl shook her head. “I've never been away from the Ravenford, and records of the Desert were scarce to none.”

    “That’s okay,” Regina said with a smile, “They are, ‘What has been said in the darkness shall be heard in the light.’ It means that the truth will always come out, no matter what. And the truth needs to be told to everyone in Mirwyth about what happened to your home, what the pirates did to you. You are the Lady of the Ravenford, created so by the King in Valona himself. If you tell all of Mirwyth what really happened, we can make sure we fight the pirates instead of each other.”

    “I want the pirates dead,” The little lady murmured. “I want them all dead.” Her eyes were budding with fresh tears, but these were angry ones. “If I tell the truth, will they pay?”

    “They will. My nephew set out to punish them for what they did, to rescue his brother,” Regina said, stroking Claryssa’s blonde hair, “They will pay. But you have to do your part.” Gently, Regina guided Claryssa to a table. There was parchment, ink, and quill. “I’ll help you find the right words. Will that be all right?”

    Claryssa stared at the blank parchment while several emotions played out on her young face. Slowly, she nodded.



    Lady Ginnifer considered the sweep of Kalkheim from a balcony adjoining the Lady’s suite of chambers. Night had fallen. The darkness of the settlement was dotted with little licks of flame from lanterns and torches. Ginnifer always thought of them as personal altars to V’hallar.

    “Let’s hope that our family words are right.”

    Ginnifer turned to find her aunt stepping onto the balcony behind her. “Are the ravens flown?”

    “To the capital lands, the Desert, the Islands, the Mountains, to as many of the important houses as we could muster. Riders to the nearer towns and cities with copies,” Regina said, “I thought you’d like to see for yourself.

    Ginnifer read silently:

    This is the testament of Claryssa Bristal, Lady of the Ravenford, written of my own accord and free will.

    Several days prior, the Ravenford was victim to brutal raids carried out by the pirates that have so recently preyed upon the southern coast of Mirwyth. They murdered and committed acts unspeakable against the people of the Ravenford. In the midst of chaos and death, my uncle mistakenly reported that these reprehensible deeds were the work of Desertmen. In truth, these Desertmen were sent to pursue the very pirates that victimized my people.

    As proof of this, I fled to the only place I found safe: the Fair Groves. House Kildare has long warned of the need to stem the waves of piracy that wrack Mirwyth’s shores. They pleaded with House Reynard and House Santagar for help and only acted when none came. If there was any truth to the erroneous reports of the Desert’s involvement in the attacks upon the Ravenford, I would have taken my own life and joined my people rather than spend one night under any of their rooves.

    Let all of Mirwyth focus their anger and their righteous justice on the true blight on this land: the pirates who burned my lands, despoiled the Ravenford’s maidens, and slaughtered its people.

    So swear I, in the sight of the gods,

    Claryssa Bristal
    Lady of the Ravenford


    Ginnifer looked up after she had finished reading. “Regina, this is magnificent.”

    “Every single one of them written in her own hand,” Regina said, “She is made of sterner stuff than her years would suggest.”

    “This may yet undo much of what has been done,” Ginnifer said, folding the parchment with one hand on a small table, using one of the stiff fingers of her gauntlet to help the work. She looked back up. “Thank you...Aunt Regina.”

    “Let’s get one thing straight,” Regina said, stepping close to Ginnifer, “You will never interfere with Claryssa again. Ever.”

    “I understand,” Ginnifer said, looking straight into her aunt’s eyes, “and she will remain here at Kalkheim under your care.”

    “As agreed,” Regina said.

    There was a moment of silence between them. Regina turned to leave.

    “My mother was a fool,” Ginnifer called out.

    Regina turned back. “Now you’re just pandering,” she sneered.

    “How she was so blind to see how much you loved this family is beyond me,” Ginnifer said, “If only she’d realized that….” She paused. “I am in your debt, Regina.”

    “See that you remember it,” Regina said coldly, and she left.

    Ginnifer watched the door as it shut firmly behind her aunt.

    “Never, ever trust Regina. She is a pitiful creature driven by spite. She will use every advantage she can find against you to destroy you and your sisters. Underestimate your aunt at your own peril.”

    Ginnifer returned to her contemplation of Kalkheim, shrouded by night.

    “And what if I had no other choice?” Ginnifer whispered.

    “What are your choices when someone puts a crossbow to your head?”
    “What are you talking about?” a young Ginnifer said to her mother, “You do what they say or they shoot you.”
    “Wrong. You take the crossbow, or you pull out a bigger one. Or you call their bluff. Or you do any one of 146 other things.”


    Her mother, even in death, had an answer for everything. Ginnifer wondered if those answers were right.

    TAG: HanSolo29 greyjedi125 Jabba-wocky Ktala spycoder9 and anybody else who gets ravens in this game. You’ve got mail!
     
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  19. 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

    Ser Aran studied his Queen's movements with focused intensity. The realm's queen. Watching her, as always, by the keen sense of energy and ambition. The rest of the world felt unworthy by comparison. It ought to yield to her. Fenton ought have, when he was alive. He wanted to make everyone do so now. But every moment seemed to pass like their brief seating together. Eloquence, never his strong suit, abandoned him altogether. He was left struggling for a way to mime his sincere loyalties. Fortunately, today, as she strode before the window, she offered the perfect chance. She needed his help with the rebellion, she was saying.

    Emilia, I promise you that the world shall no more speak of the scorching that the sun can bring, after the blaze I set in the Desert lands. If they are determined that no one loyal to House Reynard should live there, I will grant them exactly that. This season will need no rain to water groves and orchards,” he answered, jumping to his feet to salute in a wave of zeal.

    This was his job. The very thing Fenton had selected him for all those years ago. He would've done them for almost anyone, if there price was right. Up until days ago, he basically had. That gave him pause. After all, this wasn't like that. Everything had changed. Emilia was not Fenton, and in some way, he wasn't what he used to be either. So why carry on as if the something else were true? He hesitated a moment. Bit his lip.

    When he spoke again, more softly, but voice no less wrung with passion, he said, “Is that all you require? Is there aught else I can do for you?

    He wondered whether they were finally the right words. Would she see now, how far he would go for her?

    TAG: HanSolo29, spycoder9
     
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  20. Heavy Isotope

    Heavy Isotope Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Oct 10, 2013
    Leiliana Caine
    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Mountain Village, Centre

    Sierida and Leiliana spent the rest of the daylight hours frolicking about, finding Leiliana’s cart, and searching for remedies.

    “You’re sweet, Leiliana,” Sierida told her one time, as she picked a flower and sniffed it. “Maybe everyone should be raised with old men.” Leiliana laughed at this, she wasn't completely sure what she meant, having never met anyone outside the order. But maybe Sierida was right.

    They had a good time searching, though eventually Sierida said it was getting late, and her father would be looking for her. As they came back into the village, there was a middle-aged man with a thick black beard that hung to his stomach waiting at the centre.


    “Papa!” Seirida ran and wrapped her arms around the man’s wide berth. He laughed and patted her on the head. He looked up from her to Leiliana. “Papa, this is Leiliana! She’s an alchemist!”

    “An alchemist, eh?” He eyed Leiliana. “You from Avos?”

    "I am, indeed" she said, "However I am skilled in professions beyond alchemy, should your village require my help with anything." As she spoke she held her hand to the side and bowed slightly but respectfully, holding her staff in her other hand, "Young Sierida has quite the thirst for knowledge, she'll grow to be very wise."

    @spycoder9
     
  21. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    OOC: Because Leigh's been especially busy, and I don't want her to get too far behind, I'll go ahead and post part of our combined. :D



    IC: Gwenn Cliffe
    Halls, Delmaristead


    “But I did milady.” He began to lead her down the staircase. His steps were taken carefully, with Gwenn's gown in mind. “I am of the King’s personal guard, a knight of the Seamen, and you are the King’s daughter, baseborn or not. You must have someone about you, to protect you from any harm that could befall you.”

    The man was a knight and kingsguard? "Five minutes in a dress an' suddenly i'm a helpless maid..." Gwenn thought to herself as the pair began to descend down the winding tower steps. For years she had managed to look after herself, and defend herself if need be, even if it meant she ended up with a bruised cheek or bloody nose for her trouble. Most of those who had thought to try and take advantage or wrong her in some way had quickly learned to back off, skulking off with their tails between their legs. But this was not Breezecroft, where she knew every street and back alley like the back of her own hand, She was in a new place, an uncharted territory filled with strangers. A small frown creased her brow. "Beggin' pardon ser, but wha' de ya mean?" The cryptic words that were spoken by Jeanette played across her mind. Was she really in that much danger here?

    "You will find no other palace better guarded than Delmaristead," He assured her. "But even in the most well guarded of places, monsters still lurk. Your father is wise enough to realize that."

    Gwenn sighed inwardly at the man’s words. "Wha' will I do, sleep wi' a bloody dagger under my pillow?" she mused silently before bringing her attentions back to her escort "Consider me warned..." Gwenn stated as the pair continued downwards. Her storm grey eyes flashed as she looked at the knight "...But I will defend mesel' if I have te." She paused for a brief moment, drawing in a short breath (as much as her infernal corset would allow). "I'm a bastard...we don't trust easy.”

    "As I have heard." The knight led her down the rest of the steps in silence. He guided her down stone passageways lit by torches. They walked past servants and children, many of whom curtsied or bowed their head. "I have heard many things about you. . .some of which are cast in as much doubt as the usual tales are. I am guessing you aren't a spy for Reynard, or a witch that controls the weather?" He was grinning.

    Gwenn quirked an eyebrow at the knights words. What else had he heard about her? And from who? It was then she noticed the grin that had formed on his face. Wait...was he making fun of her? She clicked her tongue and a thoughtful look crossed her face. "Weather witch hm?" She said before shaking her head gently. "Never had tha' one before" She added with a low chuckle "As fer Reynard, what goods a spy who can't read or write proper..."

    "I thought as much." He laughed aloud, a short bark of a noise. "A castle thrives on wicked tales, especially the chambermaids. I'd take everything they say with a grain of salt."

    Gwenn shrugged her shoulders slightly "I'm used te it, water off of a turtles back afta so many years..." She trailed off for a moment, her thoughts going back to her childhood, remembering how she would witness the disapproving looks and hear the hurtful words aimed at her. Most nights she would lie on her pallet, crying, wishing for it all too stop. When her mother was still alive, at least she had someone to comfort her, to reassure her. But even after her passing the abuses continued. She had been called names, laughed at, pushed round, practically vilified and more recently, had rumors spread about her regarding the kings interest in her. Letting out a sigh Gwenn tried to banish the thoughts to the back of her mind.

    "I visited Breezecroft once..." The knight broached the topic. "The cliffs were of the rarest wonders I have seen."

    "Oh?" Gwenn inquired. His words held some truth. For a ship or vessel approaching the isle of Breezecroft, the cliffs were hard to miss. Ancient and imposing walls of dark rock and stone, shaped over centuries by the crashing waves and coastal winds that defined the islands wild mostly untouched shoreline. It was said that at certain times of day, and in certain types of light, the rock appeared to change colour and some even said that they would glitter faintly in the sun, well if you could believe the stories told by the old sailors and merchants who frequented the Breezecroft docks. A trace smile crossed Gwenn's face "When I were younger I were told tha' the cliffs held sum sorta ancient magic, a protection by tha god Chiarynn" She paused briefly and shook her head softly "Most like just a children's fable though"

    “I have heard the same.” Noises were growing louder. A singer with the voice of melted honey, the clink of plates and cups, the rumble of many people speaking low. “I would not place too much doubt on them. They came from somewhere, did they not, and where else but from our god?”

    The noises associated with revelry and the sound of singing became more and more distinct the closer the pair moved towards the dining hall. The nervous knot in Gwenn's stomach bloomed anew as they approached the ornate dark stone doors at the end of the hallway. The doors, wreathed in vines, were cast open and Gwenn blinked in surprise at the sight that lay before her, her gray gaze falling upon the dias at the other end of room. An ancient skull dominated the dias, decorated by seaweed and starfish. It was an impressive sight to say the least. Gwenn recalled an earlier conversation with her father at that moment. "So he weren't jestin' about tha dragon skulls..." She silently mused as she took in the sight. In front of the skull lay a table made out of the same dark stone, and at that table sat her father, dressed to receive his many guests who sat at tables enjoying a meal of bread and fish. Looking over the gathered highborn made the bastard woman feel even more a fish out of water then she already felt. The knight's voice brought her abruptly out of her observations.

    “Would you like to be lead to your seat, milady?” The knight asked.

    Blowing out a soft breath, Gwenn pondered the question for a brief moment before finally shaking her head "Thank yeh ser, but I don' think their are any more stairs fer me teh fall down" She said quietly, hoping that the man would not take offense. Releasing her arm from around his, she gave him a nod of thanks before turning back to look at her father. She started walking down the aisle between the rows of tables towards the dias, her heart thumping in her chest "Keep yer head up, show no fear" She mentally chanted as she approached the dias and addressed her father, just loud enough t be heard over the singing and laughing and clicking of cups and cutlery. She gave Nathaniel a somewhat stiff bow of her head.

    "Fath...I mean...Yer Grace..."


    To be continued. . .
     
  22. HanSolo29

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

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    IC: Dayvid Sol
    The Wolfswood, The Mountains of Mirwyth

    The snowy mount was restless and on the morning following the unfortunate encounter in the pub, had decided to display her authority and strength in the form of an avalanche. The horizon had still been dark and dawn was still several hours away when the rumbling began and roused him from a shallow sleep. While their camp had been a fair distance from ground zero, the impact could be felt over a wide expanse, which spoke for the severity of the situation. There was surely devastation and loss of life for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. It was a pity, really, but in the grand scheme of things, of little concern to him.

    Unless, of course, it had managed to cut off his only route to the town of Wolfshore.

    Dayvid’s expression soured at the thought as he sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes. Wolfshore was widely considered one of the largest towns in this area and one of his major hubs in terms of business. Primarily a mining town, the place was rich in opportunity and attracted its fair share of folks eager to change their lives for the better in the form of a quick investment in the mountains. These poor souls were usually down on their luck and blinded by their greed. In other words, they were ripe for the picking and Dayvid had become very good at exploiting them. This had been his ‘Plan B’ in terms of recouping his losses and now it seemed as if it had been for naught…

    When they had finally reached the site of the avalanche a day later, it was as he had feared – the path had been literally wiped away and rendered impassable by the destructive carnage. Short of climbing the nearby mountain, which he did not have the gear or patience to attempt, they were effectively cut-off. A work-around would have to be found if they were to reach their destination and that is exactly what they were trying to accomplish when Sage stopped suddenly.

    The wolf was clearly disturbed as he stood very still with his ears alert and erect. He tilted his head slightly to the side and sniffed the air. It wasn’t until he started to pace and whimper that Dayvid took notice of the odd behavior and frowned as he started to approach his companion from behind, half expecting some kind of danger to come barreling at them from the forest’s edge.

    “What’s wrong, boy?” His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned the immediate area with caution. “You smell—Sage!”

    Before he could finish his sentence, the wolf took off at a full sprint, disappearing as the land descended downward into a valley. Dayvid cursed under his breath and stumbled a moment to regain his footing in the snow, staring after the retreating footprints of his companion. Damn that mutt! What other choice did he have except to follow? He would need to come back and gather their supplies (what was left of them, anyway) later.

    Pulling his cloak further around his neck to prevent the cold air from biting his exposed skin, Dayvid set out after Sage, half-tumbling, half-running down the embankment until he could see the wolf huddled around something lying in the snow near the treeline. At first glance, he thought it to be a pile of corpses from some forgotten battle until one of them screamed. The sound echoed precariously from the cliffs surrounding them and he winced, almost expecting the sudden outburst to conjure up another avalanche. But then another thought entered his awareness that trumped the idea of being buried alive by a mountain of snow. What if the drunk at the tavern had been right about the undead? Could this be one of them?

    Dayvid clenched his knife in a white-knuckled grip and approached the heap of limbs and blankets very slowly. Sage seemed unconcerned with their presence, except for the screaming, of course, so that was comforting. Would he really be so calm if they were dealing with reanimated corpses? And then he saw the girl’s face and his expression softened a bit. It was a mask of fear and judging by the teal tint to her lips, they had been stranded out here for quite some time…alone.

    An opportunity presented itself and Dayvid had to conceal a smile as he loosened his grip on the knife. Perhaps he would not need Wolfshore after all...

    “Easy,” he drawled as he stopped his approach and extended his free hand to call off Sage. “You don’t gotta scream. He won’t hurt ya.” He narrowed his eyes and studied the girl curiously before looking sideways at Sage. “Unless, of course, ya got something to hide.”

    TAG: Master Selkath




    IC: The Queen, Emilia Reynard
    The Queen’s Quarters, The Capital
    One Day Before the Wedding

    Ser Aran had sealed his fate, then, forever loyal to House Reyand…to her. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at what this could possibly mean for them going into the future. Of course, she had never had any doubts that he would align himself with her and her alone, but it was reassuring to hear it come from his own lips…so tantalizing, so sure.

    She forced any sensual thoughts from her mind and nodded regally, becoming the proper and stone-faced Queen once more. “You will do well, Ser Aran…god-speed to you and your men.”

    It seemed as if she was going to bow and dismiss him, but there was a moment of hesitation, a hint of a sparkle in her eye that caught the rays of the afternoon sun. There was more, but she had been holding back for a particular moment. Hearing him swear his allegiance to this campaign and to her had solidified the bond and he had proven himself to be the perfect candidate for what she was about to say.

    “But…” She turned and held up her index finger to ensure that he did not leave prematurely. “I do have one last request.”

    Her eyes darted briefly to the door, almost as if she feared for their security before she approached and was standing once again within Ser Aran’s personal space. Bending at the waist, she spoke quietly into his ear, her breath brushing lightly against his neck.

    “And this one, I hesitate to say, may be the most dire. It is a special request for a special person and I want you to treat this with the same level professionalism and zeal you have for your other campaigns. There can be no slip-ups and I would like proof to show that the deed has been done.”

    Her eyes drifted to the door one last time before narrowing grimly. “I want you to track down and silence my sister, Lucia.”

    TAG: Jabba-wocky, spycoder9
     
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  23. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    4 Days Before the Wedding


    The Capital of Mirwyth
    The Ravenford


    The Roost


    Claryssa looked at him curiously, before bopping him on the nose once.

    “You’re sweet, Fleet. Sweet Fleet!” She laughed. “That’s what I’ll call you, from now on! Sweet Fleet, the finest squire Mirwyth has ever seen.” She seemed to have put her haunting thoughts from before, behind her. Her humor and smiles had come back.

    I’ll get the pies, my Sweet Fleet.” She crossed her arms and strode towards the tower doors. “I’m the Lady of the Ravenford. What gives them the right to deny me an extra pie?”

    She greeted the guards posted at the door, who opened them silently. Claryssa stepped inside, and then waved Fleet in as well.

    “Come on, come on! They smell so good.”

    They entered into a long hall with draping raven tapestries. At the end of it, a feathered black throne rested steps above. Fleet might could smell something now, wafting into the room, leaving its presence here and there.

    It was a. . .a sweet, fleeting smell.



    The castellan nodded and tapped the rim of his goblet absentmindedly.

    “I want to hope that you’ll defeat these bastards.” Artos nodded. “I do. But you haven’t seen how they truly are, Ser Caliban. They have the bloodlust about them. I wouldn’t take them lightly. These aren’t your everyday foreigners.”

    “They kidnapped my brother,” Ser Caliban stared at Artos over his plate. “They will receive no mercy from me. I will die trying to save my brother, if that is what I must do.”

    “I don’t doubt that.”

    “You shouldn’t. Nothing will stand in my way."

    Artos gave a thin smile. “You have all of the Ravenford’s prayers with you.”

    “Thank you for your kindness, m’lord,” Olyvar said, when Ser Caliban didn’t reply.

    “Now, tell me Lorain, you mentioned your father was a blacksmith. Where do you come from?” The way Redwood's eyes looked at her was a way that many, many others gave her, a mix of curiosity and shock.



    TAG: greyjedi125, Ktala
     
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  24. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    18 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Mountain Village


    Centre


    “Wise?” He frowned. “Yes, my Sierida’s a smart one.”

    All along the outside of the village centre, fires were blinking out from inside homes. The sun had already set over the mountains, and a chill was settling in. A common characteristic of this time of year. The few children that remained out were running back to their huts, while mothers and fathers barred their doors – after a side-glance at Leiliana. The mayor noticed Sierida shiver and took his own pelt off to drape over his daughter’s shoulders. The little girl giggled as it almost swallowed her whole. Her father gestured for Leiliana to come along, as he and his daughter turned around and began to walk together.

    “Might as well come home with us,” He called to Leiliana. “I’ve gotta few questions for ye, same as I do for all the visitors.”

    Sierida smiled at Leiliana over her shoulder.

    “You’ll like our home,” She said sweetly. “Won’t she Papa?”

    He grunted in agreement.



    TAG: Heavy Isotope
     
  25. spycoder9

    spycoder9 Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 23, 2008
    6 Days Before the Wedding


    The Mountains of Mirwyth
    Misty Top Keep


    Great Hall


    The Great Hall of Misty Top had been imbued with its own level of mystique and sophistication. It was a simple hall at first glance, with designated areas for those in attendance of the days’ matters like every other great hall in Mirwyth. They stood behind thick grey stone balustrades, with walls behind them that had been painted to resemble that of mist wafting through the room. The misty paint drifted from wall to wall, even in the stain glass windows. It all appeared very grey and rudimentary, until one stared at the end of the hall. There was the seat of House Meade, a seat that had been there since the castle had first been built. It was a glorious chair, the color of the night’s sky, and every lord of Misty Top had sat in it at one point or another. Positioned above it was another window, this one clear and spotless. From it flowed golden beams of sunlight that made the very chair appear as if it was crafted in the heavens.

    Resting in this seat was the acting lord, Mairar Meade. Flanking him were Darros and Arjen, while Ser Monroe, Maester Ambrose, and Ser Talos stood off to the side. It was Mairar’s first time in the chair, and because of this, many of the people showed up. Sara was elegantly draped against the railing, while Justile stood in the shadows of the hall with her maid friend, whispering little secrets. Garron was sparring the yard, as he always did, while Cecillia was taking lessons with Lady Turnis, and Dammon and Sierra were off causing hijinks as usual.

    When Mairar called for the first person, a milkmaid stepped up.

    After getting down to her knees and bowing before him, she spoke. “M’lord, my husband killed my sow.” She buried her face in her hands. “He. . .he killed her, because she made too much noise.” Tears streamed down her face. She wore a long brown braid of hair down the back of her woolen dress. All her plainness made a stark contrast with her bright blue eyes, which were mildly attractive.

    “I’ve come before ye to. . .to get my money’s worth for her. She was a good ‘en, m’lord,” She pleaded.



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