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PostPosted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 4:05 pm
by Landenburg
Raven the Red
Somewhere Near Southwatch Fort


The grizzled mercenary slowly walked, his boots clanking as he walked. All around him was the landscape of Aramis, a few roadsigns in front of him. According to one sign, he was near Southwatch Fort. He frowned, having seen from many a friend that once you end up there, you never come back the same. Shrugging, he got off the road and found a tree to sit underneath. After relaxing for a few minutes, Raven pulled off a bag off of his shoulder and took his greatsword off of his back, setting both down. Sifting through his bag, he pulled out a loaf of bed. Raven ripped off a piece, taking a big bite out of it. Putting the rest of the bread back, he took his canteen and drank a big swig. Tomorrow I've gotta get twice as far. he thought to himself, frowning before taking a short nap.

PostPosted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 7:02 pm
by Hafflegar
Vyktor Maro sat slouched in a filthy corner alleyway, huddled in shadows. The sun was just setting on the Capital city of Victoria, bathing the low district in an eerie light. Three weeks he had been tailing his mark, and not once had he and his henchmen broken their pattern. It was sloppy, especially in Vyktor's kind of work. Ruben Trent, while a small-time criminal had many connections in high places and was a favored middle man for some of the less than honest merchants in the city, until recently. Ruben and his motley gang of thugs had decided to carve a name for themselves and disrupt the lucrative balance between illegal and legal trade activities. Ruben and his men have been making quite the problem for the merchants and crime lords over the past six months and when Vyktor, a professional problem solver arrived in the city he was contacted via the normal methods and offered the contract. It was a relatively easy job considering the amount offered upon Ruben's untimely demise. He must of caused quite the stir.

The relative quiet of the evening was suddenly disrupted as the door to the dingy tavern Vyktor was sitting across from opened and three men stepped out into the street, releasing a sudden loud cacophony of voices and laughter. Being careful to stay in the shadows his keen eyes easily picked out Ruben and his two lieutenants, Francis and Marco Bledik. Vyktor crouched quietly and waited for the three men to inevitably stroll his way. Once the three men were almost to the end of his alleyway, Vyktor lurched to his feet, half empty wine bottle in his hand and staggered into the far wall. "What do we have here, boys?" Ruben casually drawled out.
"Looks like a drunk, Boss." Vyktor heard one of the brothers reply. Vyktor looked up at the three and mumbled,
"Dun min' me milords, just takin' a stroll." Vyktor stumbled a little closer to the brother on the left.
"Oi! back off!" Marco suddenly shoved Vyktor hard into the wall but as he moved closer to put his hands on him, Vyktor produced a dagger and rammed it into the man's diaphragm straight to the hilt. Vyktor threw his shoulders backward and bounced harmlessly off the wall, using the rebound to propel him toward Ruben. As the other two men suddenly realized their comrade was dying, Vyktor used the momentary distraction to smash Ruben over he head with his half empty wine bottle, spraying wine and shards of glass all over the alleyway. Ruben's knees buckled and he crumpled to the street but Vyktor's attention was already on his last target, Francis.

Francis eyed him warily, holding his knife out in front of him and balancing on the balls of his feet. So he thinks he knows how to knife fight, how cute. "You killed my brother!" Francis accused, eyes flashing with anger.
Vyktor replied with a lazy shrug, "Guess he had it coming." That did it. With a feral scream of rage, Francis charged forward with his knife raised. Deftly, Vyktor dodged the clumsy slash, stepped inside the man's guard and drove an elbow into his face, flattening his nose with a spray of blood. As Francis' head snapped backward Vyktor gripped Francis' knife arm and drove it upward underneath the man's chin. Vyktor let the body drop to the pavement and turned his attention to the unconscious Ruben. "There was a side contract on your two butt boys, Ruben. But with you...I'm supposed to make a statement. Nothing personal."

The next morning city guards found the body of Ruben Trent strung up in the city square, eyes gouged out and sewn into his mouth with his tongue pulled through a gaping slash in his neck. The simple phrase, 'Not in my house' written on the ground in his blood.

PostPosted: Sat Jan 09, 2016 10:10 pm
by Relikai
Southwatch Fort, Amaris
Shimazaki Haruna


The doors to the cell opened, as Sir Makin entered. Heading towards the corner, he roughly pulled the silver-haired girl up, ready to use her for his pleasure once more. She's been silent throughout the two days she spent in the fort, and so far he only had the chance to use her two times. Her stoicism angered him, it was the first time a whore just lay there like a dead fish, without emotion, without fear in her eyes. There was no sense of a broken spirit either, those would be crying at night or shirking away at his touch. No, this is a strong one, and Makin figured that she would be his greatest conquest at the end.

"There are fewer of us today, it would seem that some buyers are coming. I'm going to have you locked up somewhere else, and enjoy your flesh while they talk. We have all day, whore, and I would like to see how far you can defy me until you start begging."

Haruna simply stared ahead, as if she did not hear a thing. Angered, Makin sent a fist into her stomach, causing her to double over in pain. Gasping, Haruna hardly had time to get up when Makin held her in a headlock, before tossing her onto the floor of the abandoned barracks.

Smirking, Makin looked at the girl sprawled on the floor. Her long silver hair was dirty and unkempt, her clothes, a white top and short red skirt which he no longer decided to strip her of, were mattered with dust, dirt and other stuff.

Just as he turned away to undo his belt, Haruna got up and within a blink of an eye, had her knee driven up Makin's groin. A howl was cut off when she struck his throat, similar to the move her husband used on bandits who sought to call her names. Another knee, and a third, Haruna could feel Makin recoil as her tough kneecap smashed against soft flesh, as she stepped back before giving him a kick right where it hurts.

Makin collapsed, his eyes rolled up as he fainted from the pain. Spitting at his unconscious form, Haruna dusted herself as she walked to his pants, picking up a small sheath which contained her dagger. The armoury was nearby, and at this time of the day, most sentries were just standing at their positions. Patting down Makin's clothes, Haruna found a set of keys which she hoped contained the one to the armoury, where her equipment was kept.

Tired and fatigued as she was from the abuse and lack of nutrition, it was only two days, and the Kaean warrior was still full of fight. She did not survive torture, war and loss just to be defeated by a knight and some war wounds. Applying some basic healing on herself, most of her bruises and cuts faded away, including the arrow wound on her leg, which she silently worked on over her time in the cell. Any more than those wounds might exhaust her.

Sneaking along the walls, Haruna made sure to stay out of the sentries' line of sight as much as possible. A short sprint to the armoury had her quickly using the keys on the hole. Hearing an someone approaching, Haruna barely managed to find the right one as the opening of the latch rang in her ears. Moving in, she did not have time to close the door completely, which was noticed by the spearman who tapped on the door. A strong hand met his tunic, as Haruna forcefully pulled him in, before knocking him unconscious with the pommel of the dagger. Somehow, she just did not want to kill anyone of she could.

A quick glance into the armoury told Haruna that her weapons were by the small heap of weapons, where those of the captured at stored in. She could find her weapon belt quick enough, but the two Katanas that she dropped while surrendering were full of nicks. Not that they are not battle worthy, but they could not be relied on to defeat conventional materials without the risk of breaking. Such was the work of her apprentices, but they had served her well.

As Haruna stepped out, she could hear the sentries call out, as well as the sound of heavy footsteps. Many footsteps. Haruna quickly sprinted into a section under the wall, her soft shoes making little noise, as well as the belt, made of cloth and silk. She could hear the gate being opened, as a column of men marched in.

Sneaking her way to the gate, Haruna was almost there when she felt a rough hand grab her shoulder. Spinning around, Haruna barely managed to dodge the armoured fist of a footman, who seemed ready to sound the alarm. His voice died with him as Haruna's katana sliced through flesh and bone, decapitating the soldier in a single move. Hearing the sound of chains, Haruna realised that the gates are closing, as she sprinted forward, her eyes turning silver as her feet began to move faster, her steps bringing her further, the Yukikaze diving under the heavy gate as it slammed shut behind her. A cry of alarm, as a footman from above pointed at her. Knowing that her time now, Haruna dashed away from the fort, as the sentries fell into a state of confusion. Without the Knights, or Makin's instructions, they were at a loss of what to do with guests in the fort.

Haruna ran, ran as quickly as she could. Reaching a small wood, she snapped out of her alter as she panted, severely fatigued. Using her alter for five minutes would bring upon her much fatigue, and she hoped that she would not need to use it again so soon. Thirst and hunger called out to her as Haruna searched the wood for some herbs or roots, managing to find a couple of edible ones. Trained by a Ranger in the old lands, Haruna learnt some basic survival skills to live alone, or when she was lost in a forest.

Slightly satisfied by the roots, Haruna continued to stumble around for a while, before she heard the sound of someone snoring. A large bottle hung from the sleeping man's side, as Haruna closed in slowly. After her recent ordeal, Haruna would like to just do something without the judgement of a man placed upon her, in case more sexual favours were even suggested. Just as she was about to take the bottle, the man's eyes shot open as his hand caught Haruna's arm.

Unable to break free in her current state, Haruna had no choice but to beg, before the man decided to run her through, causing her to take another life without justification.

"Sir, please sir, water... I need water..."

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 12:20 am
by Laurvier
Kingdom of Victoria, Countryside

To accomplish the task and cover the greatest amount of area, Sir Alaric had set out different groups of riders while the army moved. Scouts were sent on the longest patrol to make sure no force was coming to challenge them. Then there were raiding parties of about 50-60. They spread out in all directions, seeking villages and hamlets that were ripe for the taking.

Yale riders moved swiftly. Their black surcoats appeared on the horizon spelling doom for their victims. Warning bells would chime but by then it would be too late. By then it was a process that was well practiced and efficiently done. They would ride through the village with the heads of those they have slain dangling from saddles, cutting down any who tried to flee. Once surrounded the Yales would go door to door to root out those hiding and to plunder for valuables. Anything that could be of use was taken. This could be what little wealth villagers had, food, drink and women. There was little use for men or children so they were run through immediately. Some bodies would have their throats slit to be dumped in the well. As per tradition the Yales would take trophies. Heads to tie to their saddle, to mount on pikes at camp or to use the skulls later to drink out of. They enjoyed crafting necklaces made of bone, teeth, ears or fingers. Some would cover themselves in scalps or use the blood to paint their faces. Finally, the Yales would burn it all down. Every shack, hovel, barn, granary and mill was torched. Then the fields surrounding to the village to make resupply for any armies coming after them difficult.

At the same time the main army moved in a long line doing the same. Anything they came across that could not be plundered was destroyed. They set fire to fields and slaughtered livestock in the pastures that they would not eat for themselves. To their front was beautiful countryside but in their wake they left a desolate hell of ash and corpses. A young child watched as the black riders thundered down the dirt path towards his village. They looked like demons in their black, decorated in human body parts. He was frozen by the ghastly sight and did not see the flail that swung down to crack open his skull.

Sir Alistair manned the camp, not wanting to participate in the butchery. He was a man who wanted renown and there was none to be gained from massacring peasants. But his brother and the men enjoyed it. Not to mention a need to put food on the table and coin in their pockets. If the Yales were not warring or raiding they were not making money. If they were not making money, the lot that they commanded would turn mutinous. Sir Alaric had little choice but to set the Yales on the poor hapless peasants of Victoria. While they did that he practiced he sparred with the men left at camp.

All knights carried a sword as per tradition. But with the way the armor is now such a weapon was practically useless. No sword could penetrate or cut through the armor of the times. Sure, a swordsman could be skilled enough to find the gaps in the armor but that was difficult. It was far easier to crush or slice through with something that had weight behind it. That was why most of the Yales carried flails, poleaxes, axes, maces, crows beaks, messers, falchions and mauls. Right now Alistair practiced with a menacing looking poleaxe. It had a lead weight hammer that could dent armor and deal concussions. On the other side was an axe that in strong arms could cleave through plate. The every end had a long thin spike protruding from it to poke gaps in the armor. He practiced as he was taught in training and on the battlefield. In Alistair's mind he would become one of the greats, sung in ballads a century from now about his great duels.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 12:55 am
by Cuprum
Kingdom of Summerhaven

Image


The morning sun burned brightly overhead. The heat was dry and stale, and Fernando found himself in need of water more often than not. It had taken almost three days to reach the outskirts of Palatia Aestas, and sixteen more to finally reach the mountains of the South. The city limits sprawled out almost endlessly over the land. Layers upon layers of walls had been built to encompass the Towns, but surely it outgrew each one.

A constant stream of carts and wains could be seen for miles outside the limits of Summerhaven, they imported the various spices and jewels that kept the economy thriving. There were other carts too, less exciting yet more important. Ones that brought in timber and stone, others delivering rice and livestock for the slaughter. It took much too feed a city the size of Summerhaven, it took more to keep its infrastructure running.

The traffic that the city caused had melted away some days after they had left its borders. The cobblestone highways had regressed into dirt paths hardly big enough to fit to caravans side by side. The road had risen as well. Steadily at first, as the land around swelled like one sweeping wave of grass, but soon became steeper with every step. The grasslands had departed and firs rose from the damp dirt to tower over the party, enveloping them in a canopy of green. The air had grown thinner too, mist clung to the tops of the trees and settled on their camp whenever night came. Their horses languished at every step, their rests growing more and more frequent.

The Duke had hardly seen the mountains before they were upon them. The road all but disappeared and only a small footpath remained. The cart rattled on precariously, always seeming on the verge of falling back down the slope, but surely it carried on. The cart was their treasure, outfitted with a cage in order to carry back their prize. It was vital that it made it through the mountains. Twenty riders and their wagon had accompanied Fernando on the journey. Fernando had desired only five, but The Duke had insisted.

The mountains continued on like endless tidal waves covered in green. The firs grew thinner as the party’s ascent dragged on, but the trees did not. Stalks of green bamboo rose like thousands of spears from the ground, so dense a horse could not squeeze between the shafts. Two more days the party traveled, two more days without sight of man nor beast. It was not the first time Fernando had grown skeptical of the stories he’d heard. Not stories of the wild Warlords and rebels, he knew well enough they were real, but of the spotted bears. Bears of white and black, bears that seemed to only be seen by farmers and peasants, they seemed more like ghosts than animals to Fernando.

On the twenty-first night, the bamboo began to thin. The stalks did not rise as frequently, some patches were devoid of the trees whatsoever. The party carried on noisily, the cart rumbling over every stone, sounding like a thousand drums beating as it reverberated through every inch of the bamboo forest.

“Stop the cart,” Fernando ordered irritably. His head ached, as did his back and bottom. He rubbed his strained eyes as the pounding of the cart continued even after it had been brought to a halt. “We go on foot, four groups of four, the rest stay by the cart.”

The men nodded silently, dismounting with a crunch as their feet landed on the old leaves. Their lamellar armor clinked slightly with each step, but the noise was much diminished from their whickering horses. The men were dressed in simple scales of of black over clothes of deep blue. Their helms were simple, black to match their scales with none of the ornate decorations of the guards. These men were simple, lesser in the eyes of the Empire, more easily sacrificed for the Duke’s desires.

Fernando lead his small party through the trees at a slow pace, attempting to reduce as much noise as possible. He had been dressed in similar fashion to his men, only his armor had been painted white to distinguish his rank. They continued on, leaves crunching with each step. The night was dark and a heavy mist had descended upon them from the mountain’s peak. A small lamp was all they had to guide their way, the light from the moon and stars had been blocked out by the dense stalks of the bamboo.

A small clearing opened before them again, just like ones previous. Fernando entered it cautiously, padding as quietly as he could into the open air. Not a sound could be heard but for the breeze that whistled through the trees as Fernando brought the party to a halt. The steady silence was shattered by a splitting cry. Fernando stood as still as he could as the creature waddled into the clearing, giving off another cry. No bigger than a puma, its fur was black and white just as described. Another cry escaped from its tiny jaw as it was basked in moonlight.

“A spotted bear,” Fernando whispered as the net was flung over the beast. “I want it for breeding,”

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 1:00 am
by Landenburg
Raven the Red
Somewhere Near Southwatch Fort

Raven was pleasantly asleep, having blissfully fallen into a deep slumber. In his dream he imagined his mother, as he always did. She was sitting in front of a cottage, smiling as she weaved a scarf. Each and every time, she would look up, smiling and speak to Raven. She would always say the same thing. "Come home Gerik. Come home to mother." and each time, Raven would shake his head no but when he went to speak, he could not. No sound would come from his mouth, his words coming out silent. Just as he went to reach out to his mother, he felt somebody near him. Raven jerked away, eyes shooting wide open. In front of him stood a girl reaching for his canteen, though he grabbed her arm before she could reach it. In the few seconds that he took to assess her, he noted that under any other circumstances she could have been a lovely looking girl. At the moment she just looked like shit. Raven chuckled at that thought in his head, though his thoughts were cut off by her begging. "Please...some water...I need some water..".

Raven looked at her with a disapproving face before speaking. "And why should I give you any sneak-thief? You just tried to steal it."

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 1:44 am
by Relikai
Haruna looked at the man, what he said was true, what she tried was not what she'd normally do, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I... Look, I had a really bad day... I need water..." Haruna muttered. Trying to pull away from Raven, Haruna realised that his grip was maintained.

"Fine. I won't need it! Let go!" No response, as Raven continued to give her a disapproving look. Haruna saw that it was one of contempt, not lust or anything that the knight has given her.

To the side, she saw the greatsword on the ground. Haruna also saw his armour, coming to a conclusion that he was a warrior.

"How about... A challenge?" Haruna said as she stepped forward. "I see that you are a warrior... A short duel, and if I win, you let me drink some water?"



The Duel

"Well..." Raven said as he checked out the girl. Noting the two swords she had by her side, he noticed that they seemed to be like scimitars, but are longer. Again, he thought of her features, thinking that if she's cleaned up properly, she would surely be something to look at...

"Well, it seems okay, if you're keen on challenging me to a duel. But.. What if you lose?" Raven asked, a sly smile appearing on his face.

Sighing, Haruna gave him an annoyed look. Another one... she thought. With her free hand, she loosened her top, pulling it down by a little and exposing a shoulder.

"You'll get this, and more." Haruna replied, in a voice which sounded sweet, but promised a severe beating. Smiling, Raven released Haruna as he picked up his greatsword. Unsheathing it, he gave the weapon several swings as he shook the sleep from him, looking forward to the spoils of his victory. Seeing him unsheath his weapon, Haruna just stood her ground, gesturing for Raven to make his move. There really isn't any point in drawing her blades so soon, they would never stop a greatsword.

Raven closed in carefully as he swept his blade at a distance, slowly forcing Haruna into several ducks and jumps. Raven swung with a measured swing, slowly getting to know Haruna's capabilities in maneuvering. Several stabs and feints later, he slowly got the hang of it, before launching himself into a furious assault.

It was then that Haruna drew her blades, dodging to the side as an overhead swing nearly connected with her head. As the blade came down, the Kaean allowed it to slide along the back of her Katanas as she held them with a reverse grip, before closing in and slapping Raven on his side with the flat of her blades.

"Careful big boy, you might lose something precious with your shoddy swinging." Haruna taunted as she landed softly on the ground. Haruna rarely taunted her opponents, but with all the events in the previous days, she needed an outlet for her frustration. This soon turned to be a mistake, when Raven barrelled into her, causing Haruna to throw herself into a roll to recover. The next swing came too close for comfort, when an enraged Raven slammed his sword on the ground, his other hand nearly catching Haruna as she dodged once more.

Her blade smacked against his armour again, but did not penetrate. It was plate, after all, one of the strongest types of armour available worldwide. Not even her masterworks could create a dent on their curved and hardened steel, let alone cause damage to their wearer. Someone wearing such armour needs to be taken down with tactics and strategy.

The Raven came at her again, his great sword swinging wildly. Just as Haruna saw an opening when the sword got struck onto a tree, the Raven released the weapon and landed a hard punch on her chest. This hurt, for real, as Haruna felt herself go weak for a moment. Her blades shot up, scoring hits on the Raven's armpit, causing him to stumble back as Haruna fought to recover.

Slowly, Raven noticed Haruna's eyes beginning to glow a faint silver, as Haruna rushed him in a furious assault. Less finesse and less footwork, but with her blades coming at him nearly thrice their previous speed. Not only did they hit fast, but they struck hard. Whenever the Raven turned, Haruna was already several steps ahead of him, targeting his lower limbs. In the span of several seconds, the Raven felt a cut along an ankle, before the second katana found his calf. Down to one knee, the Raven struggled to get up when he felt two blades reaching under his armpits, the keen edges pulling away as Haruna cut deep into his flesh, drawing a spurt of blood.

Falling flat on the ground, Raven could see Haruna step towards him, possibly expecting her to finish him off there and then. Instead, he felt her hands on his flesh, as he felt his wounds start to close. In a few minutes of lying on the ground, the Raven felt almost as good as new, except for the soreness of his wounds. Getting up, he saw Haruna lying on the log he was sleeping on earlier, obviously exhausted, drinking from his bottle.

"I guess, you won." He muttered as Haruna gave him a slight wave.

"You fight well." Haruna said. Calling the Yukikaze again, coupled with her expending her magic, really left her exhausted. "Now... I trust you to honour your word, I hope, since I am your better."

Getting up, Raven could see her face straining with fatigue, as she gave him a serious stare.

"Help me. Help me get to Summerhaven in the Aeld Empire, and I will reward you. One thousand gold pieces, and a great sword stronger than your current one." Haruna proposed. Looking at the big man, she awaited his response.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 4:33 am
by Landenburg
Raven the Red
Somewhere Near Southwatch Fort


The duel was over almost as soon as it started, Raven being surprised at her speed and grace with her blades. Yet his pride was wounded when he lost to her and he half expected it to be the end of his days. Instead she healed with some kind of magicks. He got up slow, pulling himself together.

"I guess, you won." He muttered as Haruna gave him a slight wave.

"You fight well." Haruna said. Calling the Yukikaze again, coupled with her expending her magic, really left her exhausted. "Now... I trust you to honour your word, I hope, since I am your better."

Getting up, Raven could see her face straining with fatigue, as she gave him a serious stare.

"Help me. Help me get to Summerhaven in the Aeld Empire, and I will reward you. One thousand gold pieces, and a great sword stronger than your current one." Haruna proposed. Looking at the big man, she awaited his response.

"Help you get there? What am I supposed to do? Carry your sorry self? You can barely walk. That fight took most of your energy from you, let alone your healing magicks." he scowled, staring at her.

"I'll get you there, carry you if I must but I expect a rematch." Raven said, tossing her his loaf of bread from his bag.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 8:34 am
by Aquesta
Southwatch Fort
Sir Rike

Sir Rike led the delegation towards the dungeon, they were surrounded by half-a-dozen household guard. It was best to be cautious as neither Rike or the Lord of the keep, Lord Hanafin know much about these men who were coming to buy some prisoners. Precisely why Hanafin had sent Rike to deal with them instead of risking his own person.

After a short walk they entered the dungeons, Sir Rike turned to the guests, his face hidden by a plumed salet.

"Here they are, who do you want?"

Southwatch Fort
Sir Makin

Sir Makin groggily became conscious, he stood staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, nursing his pain and trying to decipher how exactly he had gotten himself in his current situation, suddenly he remembered and was filled with anger to be brought down by a woman, thank god no one of import had witnessed such a shameful thing. Galvanised with the though of sinking his sword into the gut of that whore he quickly staggered to his feet and made his way outside, he travelled five feet before a wide-eyed young peasant spearman stopped him.

"Sir, sir a prisoner has escaped."

Furious, he grabbed the tunic of the peasant.

"What prisoner!"

"The silver-haired girl sir."

That crafty little minx, would do her no good though, she was wounded and on foot, a knight in plate and horseback could easily run her down and bring her back and hopefully he'd be able to keep this whole debacle on the low key.

"Go open the gate and don't tell anyone else about this you hear?"

After confirming that he would. Makin got his squire to armour him up, a hunter to help track down the lass and a stable-boy to prepare his horse. All of which took time but eventually Makin was armoured in his maximilian armour with his bastard sword on his hip, mounted on his impressive black stallion he followed his hunter friend out of the fort. Soon enough he had found a trial and they made utmost haste to track down the escapee.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 9:46 am
by Relikai
Haruna gave Raven a wary look. Carry me? Well, he's big enough, and he is really strong... that punch nearly broke my chest, I must say. She thought. Yes, the fight, the flight, and the usage of magic has taxed her greatly. But the water really helped to freshen her up, and now a loaf of bread was being offered to her. Haruna stared at the bread for a moment, not believing her eyes, before grabbing it as she started to tear generous pieces out to nibble on. The bread was well made, perhaps from a good batch of wheat as the presence of milk could be tasted with the grains.

"Ooshi...." Haruna whispered as she tasted it. Do the Aramiseans make such bread on a regular basis? Perhaps she could import some for her inn. "Delicious!" Haruna said with a smile, as Raven simply scratched the back of his head.

"A rematch? Well, you kind of lost to a girl who just escaped from a prison of that fort nearby." Haruna muttered with her mouth full of bread. "But, I think that can be arranged. I saw how you swung your weapon, you were trying not to hit me with your blade. Perhaps if we can replicate the fight with training weapons, we can really get serious." Haruna replied with a wink.

Just as she returned the loaf back to Raven, Haruna again stretched, before she realised that she was up in the air, being carried by Raven. Slinging the girl on to his back, the piggybacked Haruna sighed as she rested her head on the back of his, completely exhausted.

"We should find horses... or a method to travel faster. No doubt they would be looking for me, and I can think of a specific knight who would want me back..." Haruna said, as Raven began his walk.

"Also, I'm married. But if you do not mind a foreigner, I could try to match you up with one of my acquaintances."

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 10:48 am
by Hafflegar
Victoria, Capital city


Vyktor Maro sat quietly in the corner of the small tavern, watching the early morning activities and eating his breakfast. Honeyed oats with a dash of cow's milk with a plate of crispy bacon and a mug of crisp, apple mead to wash it down. Vyktor allowed himself to enjoy very few things in his life, but food was one of them. Upon reflection, he didn't even enjoy killing that much aside from the involuntary rush one gets in battle, he just viewed it as a means to an end. Death is the only thing that he could sell, after all, and he was quite good at it. Vyktor spooned the delightful oats into his mouth, keeping a wary eye on the small crowd as he waited for his contact to deliver payment. The inn, being named 'King's Roost' was one of Vyktor's haunts when he visited this city, and while he was not exactly friends with the innkeep and his family, he did save their lives from a band of marauding Reavers some six years back and they owed him. He paid for his room and board, of course and also his food, in return they didn't question his comings and goings at odd hours of the night and day, and kept messages for him locked in their safe as well. Vyktor had two more inns in various parts of the city and never stayed in the same place twice upon his visits.

Just as he was about to finished with his repast, the door opened and admitted a trio of men, two of them obviously hired muscle as they wore scale mail armor and carried battle axes while the third was dressed in fine purple and sapphire blue velvet robes. The richly dressed man scanned the crowd for a brief moment, and once he spotted Vyktor, made his way over to his table. The two guards with him wordlessly went to the bar and ordered drinks. "May I sit?" the man asked Vyktor in a cultured voice.
"Why of course" Vyktor replied to the man, his eerily soothing bass voice reverberating slightly through the quiet tavern. "I wasn't expecting Gregory Marino himself, to what do I owe the pleasure? care for a drink? The apple mead here is most delicious." Gregory Marino was a young man, younger than Vyktor even but he was a ruthless businessman and shrewd negotiator. Three years ago he inherited his family business when his father suddenly took ill and died, (Courtesy of Vyktor) and turned his minor merchant house with it's meager fortunes into a very rich and well-known family.
"No thank you, Mister Maro. I wanted to come here to congratulate you personally, and to see if you would like to stay on under my employ."
Vyktor's smile didn't reach his cold steel grey eyes, "You know that's not how I work but I do appreciate the offer. Maybe in a few more years when I decide to stop traveling."
Sighing theatrically, Gregory reached into his cloak and produced a rather large leather coin pouch and set it on the table with a thunk. "There's payment for the Bledik brothers, four hundred gold pieces as promised." Once again, Gregory reached into his cloak and produced a rolled up scroll of vellum, marked with the stamp of the Merchant's guild, "And this is a bank note with the sum of one thousand gold pieces payable to one Drustin Aledntis. As per the agreement."
Nodding his thanks, Vyktor accepted the bank note and secreted it into his cloak.
"Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Mister Marino. I will let you know as per the usual means when I am back in town." With that, Vyktor collected his travel pack and stood. He scooped up the money pouch from the table as Gregory watched him impassively, and placed it in his pack. Nodding once to Gregory, Vyktor placed a handful of gold coins onto the table and walked out into the already busy early morning streets.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 2:59 pm
by Landenburg
Raven the Red
Somewhere Near Southwatch Fort


After handing the girl his bread, she started to devour his bread hungrily. After a short while, she made a comment on how it tasted. Must've enjoyed my bread I guess.. Raven thought, thinking to himself.

"A rematch? Well, you kind of lost to a girl who just escaped from a prison of that fort nearby." Haruna muttered with her mouth full of bread. "But, I think that can be arranged. I saw how you swung your weapon, you were trying not to hit me with your blade. Perhaps if we can replicate the fight with training weapons, we can really get serious." Haruna replied with a wink.

That line pissed Raven off but she was right, he didn't go all in. He tried not to kill when he didn't have to. Just as she returned the loaf back to Raven, Haruna again stretched, before she realised that she was up in the air, being carried by Raven. Slinging the girl on to his back, the piggybacked Haruna sighed as she rested her head on the back of his, completely exhausted.

"We should find horses... or a method to travel faster. No doubt they would be looking for me, and I can think of a specific knight who would want me back..." Haruna said, as Raven began his walk.

"Also, I'm married. But if you do not mind a foreigner, I could try to match you up with one of my acquaintances." she said, resting her head.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. We should stick to traveled roads so that our prints won't be there for them to track. If we can cross a creek, that would also help. I think there's one nearby. As far as love and lovemaking goes...I'm not concerned about it. I'm a Mercenary and we don't make too many friends. Not safe for love. Anyway, I'm Raven. What's your name girl?".

She meekly replied Haruna before sighing and falling asleep.

Raven grinned and continued carrying her, onwards to the next village. He would find the nearby creek and walk down stream it a bit then back up the bank to cover his tracks.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 8:45 pm
by Cuprum
Kingdom of Summerhaven

Image


They had spent the majority of the day climbing a seemingly endless series of stairs leading towards the top of the Duke’s Tower, and yet when the sun began to sink in the sky they were not a forth of the way to the top.

“We will stop on this floor tonight. Though we are nowhere near my father’s chambers, he and out ancestors will bless us for attempting to come to him.” The Duke linked arms with lady Abigail Cunningham as he guided them from the spiralling staircase into the large, ornate room that served as the mausoleum of his great-great-great-great, etc.-grandfather, Alfonso Soria ‘the 1st King of Summerhaven’.

It was easy enough to see that the servants contracted to build this King’s burial room had kept his name well in mind at the time, a time when the kingdom had been unified, united, and powerful. The floor was completely made of onyx, and the walls, columns, and pillars were made of the same. Beautiful gold trim made into different patterns decorated them, large golden bowls filled with fire suspended from the ceiling on iron chains.

At the far end of the room was sat a towering jade statue of a man overlooking a square tomb of onyx and silver. Prostrated before it were seven servants and priests muttering silent prayers to the former king.

“Alfonso was one of the first king to push into the North and establish a presence there. He fought off the savages and claimed the land for Summerhaven.” But all of that is gone now. “He also took the North-eastern islands belonging to the wicked sorcerer-king Rai Fong, and it was from these smoking isles that the largest cache of onyxes were found. He was only fifteen it is said, when he drove his sword through the sorcerer’s heart and found the onyx. From that day forth, it is said he wore no other gems or colours but gold, silver, and onyx. Even his armour was said to be made of it.”

“It’s not very colourful, is it?” The Princess commented, tittering as she reached a hand around to goose the retinue. “Right? I much prefer our Duke’s sapphire!” She leant over to plant a quick kiss on The Duke’s cheek, the Duke looking slightly surprised by the sudden act, before respects had even been paid.

“Onyx is a serious stone my dear, and it is one I will make you wear for the rest of your life if you do not show respect in the face of my ancestor.” The look the Duke gave his second bride was enough to quiet her for once.

The two of them made their way over to the tomb, the priests and servants quickly gathering their things and leaving the royals to their honouring. He waited silently for a pillow to be brought, staring intently up at the statue of his ancestor. When the three kneeling-pillows were presented he slowly dropped to his knees, the jewels in his blue robes sparkling and the necklaces of sapphire and pearl glinting in the light as he bowed in respect before the tomb.

The Princess looked rather lost, biting her lip nervously as she did the same, pressing her forehead to the cold floor, her head filled with thoughts of the night to come. She hoped he wouldn’t insist on doing respect all night, after all, there were more fun things to do. Maybe he’ll let her leave to the chambers, there can be some fun then.

She snuck a glance over at him, quickly looking back down when she thought The Duke was about to notice. The Duke for his part was too caught up with the thoughts of the heroic deeds of King Alfonso, imagining what it would be like when he too could perform such acts. I will save the Empire, I shall unite the Empire under the Soria Family. I will succeed where my father could not. He was taken to the Heavens too soon, leaving me the only worthy son to fill his place.

PostPosted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 9:07 pm
by Relikai
As Raven carried Haruna off the road towards Summerhaven, Sir Makin and his hunter arrived at the small clearing where Haruna and Raven had their fight. Observing the cuts on the tree and the grass, a fight has probably happened here.

"Seems like it. One of them should get beat. For all you know Sir Knight, your girl might be a possession of another man."

"It does not matter. She's an important target who if cannot be captured, must be killed." Makin replied. His groin still aches, and his privates felt numb and mushy. Soon he'll find her, and his sword will taste blood...

A pity, that such a whore should die, but a Knight's pride is much more important than his balls... too bad.




Haruna woke up a night to the smell of cooked meat. Getting up, she could see that Raven has placed her on a log, as he cooked some meat over a small fire. A dead boar lay nearby, it's head cleanly removed from it's body. Nodding in approval like the guildmistress she was, Haruna slowly stood up, just as Raven handed a piece of meat over.

"Have one, Haruna." He said with a smile. A genuine one, Haruna responded in kind with one of her own as she took the offer, the meat providing her with much nourishment in her weakened state.

"It will... still be two days, before I can start running again, just to let you know." Haruna mumbled with her mouth full of meat. "Also, I have not caught your name. Probably missed the chance to when I was half-asleep throughout our introduction."

Touching her stomach, which was rumbling with hunger, Haruna got reminded of her ordeal, from which her expression changed slightly. "Also, do help me keep a lookout for pomegranates... I'll need to eat quite a bit of them..."

"I'm stronger, and you're pretty light for your size. The name's Raven. And why's that?" Raven asked in return. Being a mercenary, he has heard of several females carrying pomegranates with them, but for what reason, it was hardly discussed. Not really an issue for the males, as the fruit was nutritious and good to the taste.

"I... It is to prevent pregnancy." Haruna responded with an even voice. Honestly, it did not concern her that much, as she had trouble conceiving back then in Tych, that she fell into a temporary state of depression at her failure to give Edward an heir to his legacy. Realizing that it was perhaps the life that she was not used to, it was a factor which influenced their move to Brettonia. However, even with their active lifestyle, she just could not get pregnant, no matter how much Edward and her tried. Nevertheless, they were still young, and there will be many more chances to try. "Well, now that I said it, you should know what happened to me back in that fort. So... you know, I'd only wish to carry the child of my husband."

Ripping strips of meat from the hunk in her hands, Haruna just continued eating while Raven looked at her. Young and with a figure few other women could beat, it was obvious that when captured, she would be at a higher risk of being sexually assaulted. Her nonchalant attitude surprised him tho, most females would be crying wrecks, let alone have the will to escape, and beat him in single combat. She truly is someone unique, Raven thought.

"Miss Haruna, rest assured, while you sleep, you will be safe from such... instincts. Even tho I am a male, I have my pride and will not descend to the level of those beasts." The green-haired man said, looking right at Haruna. Again, a smile was returned to him as Haruna tossed her hunk of meat, noticably smaller, back at the mercenary. "Well, then I shall be counting on your ability then. Regarding a lady's weight, perhaps you can try carrying me when I'm fully up and running." Turning, Haruna rested on the flat log as she made sure that she was properly covered up, not exposing any sensitive areas to the man. One could never be too careful, after all. For her weight, expending her energies both tired her body and soul, and she would weigh lighter than usual. She used about 80% of her entire energies in a day, and as Haruna estimated, she'll be running within three days.

Hopefully, they would be out of Aramis by then.

PostPosted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 8:03 am
by Cymrea
Vermilion Garden Lawns
Highcastle, Winhover


Rheannon heard Bradan out and, for the most part, understood where he was coming from. Would probably even agree under other circumstances. Where she disagreed was in the idea that the individual kingdoms could devise a self-serving strategy to survive in pairs or threes and succeed. She was certain that without a unified effort, Brettonia would be overrun by Reavers and picked clean by barbarians.

So certain was she, that she would follow through on her stated intent. She would declare herself queen of the Kingdom of Aeld, ending once and for all the imperial legacy and forging forward as a realm among equals.

The Empress made to reply when she heard Arthur. "May we talk, cousin?"

With a wry smile at Bradan that implied the conversation was yet unfinished, she turned slightly to open the space between them and replied, "Of course, Arthur. Join us."

PostPosted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 1:19 pm
by Laurvier
Yales Camp

A coterie of 60 or so horsemen road through the camp fresh from a slaughter. They went past the outer barriers that held heads on heads and men impaled by stakes. Sir Alaric the Demon himself led them distinguishable by the bear pelt he with the snout covering his helm. It was something of an art the way the Yales decorated themselves. Mostly there were accessories made of human body parts. Some however discarded their helms altogether to wear the heads of animals mainly deer and wolves. They all reeked of sweet and death but were no strangers to war. Sir Alaric made sure the men bathed when they could. On campaign disease and dysentery could wreak more havoc than battle. As soon as they entered the men piled up the heads they had collected to get to work prying out teeth or cutting for scalps they wanted. A fight broke out over the teeth of a man.

"I remember his face! I rode him down. His teeth are mine!" One of them yelled before they drew daggers. Officers quickly put an end to it then the two were dragged away to be flogged. Such disorder would not be tolerated in the ranks of the Yales.

Witnessing all this was Juniper. The Yales had come across her caravan and pounced on the juicy opportunity. They had massacred them all, looted what they could and took Juniper as a prisoner. All knew to spare highborns for they could come with hefty ransoms. She was carefully guarded by two of Sir Alaric's closer henchmen who were among the most savage and experienced in the army. They both had hideous facial scars, one carried a two handed battleaxe and the other a messer sword. The taller of two with blonde hair had cover his face with the front part of a skull, seeing through the eyesockets of it. The one with the necklace of finger bones indicated that Juniper should follow Sir Alaric who was already marching towards the command tent carrying a woman's head.

At the command tent Sir Alistair was waiting munching on a loaf of bread and sweet cheese that had been liberated from one of the nearby villages. When Alaric and Juniper entered, Alistair stood up and bowed. "My Lady." He said recognizing her pedigree from her attire and taken by her appearance. She was guided to a seat nearby and her two guards left. There was a stark difference between the appearance of the two Valden brothers but the resemblance was there if one looked hard enough. For instance, both had black hair and strong jaws. They had the same father but different mothers. Alistair was tall but shorter than Alaric. He was handsome and had an athletic build. Alaric was a monster of a man. A giant that towered over others built of hard bulging muscles with a face that could give the hardiest men a fright. One of his eyes was pale and he had a long deep scar that ran down vertically from the top of his head to his jaw. Either way, the two of them were well known for their notoriety. Alaric by his vile deeds and ferocity in battle. They did not call him the Demon for nothing. Sir Alistair the Nightfire was a tourney champion and renowned as one of the finest and perhaps most daring (for the raid that got him his nickname) knights in Brettonia but was also guilty by association. He was after all, the second in command of the Yales.

"Brother, who the hell is this?" Alistair asked with Juniper clearly able to hear.

Sir Alaric said nothing as he set down the woman's severed head on the table. The skin was pale with the mouth and green eyes wide open. Alistair grimaced at the sight. Nonchalantly Alaric pulled out his dagger and carefully extracted both of her eyeballs in full view of Juniper and Alistair. Alistair watched with interest and disgust while Alaric worked. When Alaric was finished he sat down and examined the eyes with his bloody hands.

"Must you do that in front of us?! While I'm eating?!" Alistair protested but continued chewing. He had seen it all and his stomach was fairly strong.

"She stared at me right before I gored her. We shared a connection of some sorts. Something about her eyes...I had to have them for myself." Alaric proclaimed entranced by the eyeballs he had in his hands. He quickly got a hold of himself then put the organs into a pouch to look at later. "This is Juniper Bloodstain. She will be our captive for the time being."

"You mean the lady will be our honored guest of course." Alistair replied then looked to Juniper with a reassuring smile.

"She'll be whatever I say. If want to rip out her entrails, eat her liver and send her head to Lord Ayers then that's what I'll fucking do." Alaric said in his deep booming voice that sounded like it came from the bowels of hell itself. He got up and left without another word ruminate in his tent.

Alistair looked to Juniper. "Don't worry dear. My brother can have quite the temper at times. I won't let him harm you." He lied. "How have your travels been so far? Are you hungry?" Alistair asked as if everything she had seen so far should be normal.

PostPosted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 1:53 pm
by Elysian Kentarchy
Image
Courtyard, Olderen Hold, Duchy of vaer Olderen, Kingdom of Valmange
Duke Valerius vaer Olderen


"Now if there is nothing else I will be off." I say to the guard from atop my horse.

"Of course, Your Grace." The guard says back bowing his head. "Open the gate!"

With that the gate opens and I prepare to leave. "Your Grace." A voice says stopping me.

I turn around on my horse. "Ah Uncle." And then I notice the person who is feebly holding onto his arm. "And Adina. What can I do for you?"

"Your Grace, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking Adina out for your ride? She hasn't been outside that often lately so I figure"

"Of course Uncle. Mind helping her up?" I say patting the saddle.

He lifts her up and sets her behind me. "Up you go."

"Thank you Uncle." I say to him as Adina wraps her hands around my waist. "Well lets be off."

"You only have two knights as guards?" Uncle asks again in concern.

"These lands are vaer Olderen's lands Uncle. If I rode out with the entire Houseguard. It would be a sign of weakness. Two is plenty with myself."

"You are the Duke therefore you should prize your safety a little more."

"I am careful enough with everything." I tell my uncle. "Now we will be off am I understood?"

"Thoroughly Your Grace. Have a nice ride."

"We will." I say and I flick the reins slightly to have the horse move. "We will see you when we get back."

After we ride for a while I ask. "So how is your latest painting going?"

"Fairly well. I should be done in a week if everything holds up. But the question of what to do next is a curiosity. I will have to brainstorm."

"Well your paintings are normally well done and actually quite popular so I am sure it will go over well."

"I hope so. If I can contribute to the House's prestige even a little I will be happy."

"Don't push yourself too much I know you have to call for a servant to pick you up and carry from your bed to your hair in front of your easel and have one carry you the other way too."

"Don't worry cousin I won't." After we ride for a while she asks. "Can we speak with the guards out of earshot? I have something important I need to talk about."

"You heard the little lady." I say to the guards and they immediately retreat a good distance. "What is it?"

"Is everything alright in the Duchy cousin?" Adina asks quietly.

"Of course it is. Why would you ask that?"

"I overheard Anastasia talking with Uncle Anselm and Father. Among her words were something along the lines of 'I am preparing myself to take what measures I need to in order to ensure the duchy remains in House vaer Olderen's hands'. I was wondering if there is something wrong with us or our House."

I shake my head. "Nothing of the sort. Our House has been badly reduced over the years and she is my heir so she is probably referring to preparing herself in case she needs to become the Duchess if something happens to me. Though I freely admit I am not sure what she is talking about myself."

"I see. But nothing will happen to you will it?" She asks in worry.

"I believe we are actually entering into a time of change Adina. Therefore we must be ready and must be able to stick to our traditions closely in order to preserve our House and our Kingdom. Any wavering on our part could mean we are engulfed in the tide and thus House vaer Olderen would fall."

"Understood."

"But enough about such sober things. Lets enjoy the scenery." I say to her. "Maybe it will give you inspiration for a new painting."

"Maybe one about a knight escorting his lady on horseback." She mutters quietly.

"Well I'm not a knight but I hope you enjoy the ride."

"Since I am in bed so often I am happy to be out here." She says honestly.

"Good... good. I sincerely hope you recover."

"I will try. But I am more concerned with the House than my own health."

"The House is fine. Always has been always will be." I say confidently as we continue our ride.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 3:39 am
by Of the Quendi
The Kingdom of Victoria
Vermillion Garden Lawns, the City of Winhover
Under the Sovereignty of Arthur Cunningham


Image





Prince Artwyrys of Brythain

First Day of the Conclave




Garbed in loose-fitting, long-sleeved woolen tunic with a cloak, also of wool, wrapped around him Prince Artwyrys entered the Vermillion garden of the Wyrd in robes more befitting a rich peasant than a prince of one of the richer kingdoms of Brettonia. Of his attire only a leather belt that, while simple, depicted the red dragon of Brythain on its buckle, and a fibula of silver holding his cloak in place suggested his elevated position. No heralds announced the prince, no retinue of soldiers gave his presence away. He came quietly and discreetly.

For Artwyrys who had never enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of kingship this was how he wanted it to be. As the bastard of a king Artwyrys had always preferred the simpler living of the peasants of Brythain to that of the kingdom's lords and princes. But few could look at the handsome yet battle hardened face of the young prince, on his muscular build, on his watchful, alert and confident manner, and mistake him for a peasant. No matter his garbs Artwyrys looked ever the warlord he was.

Strolling the Vermillion gardens the prince admired the festivities arranged by the hosts. Having not thought the Wyrd ones for merriment and feasting Artwyrys was surprised to see the garden filled with performers; acrobats, fire-eaters and a dancing bear. Clearly the hosts had gone to considerable lengths to make their feast enjoyable. Receiving a goblet of wine from a servant Artwyrys sipped from it slowly as he strolled the garden admiring the sights for his own idle amusements. For the time being the prince felt no need to conspire or scheme with the kings and lords of other realms.




Archbishop Caradoc of Wenta Genys

First Day of the Conclave




Shifting in his chair Caradoc grunted and finished eating some bits of duck as the Torrian count, a strange title of Bismarckian origin denoting a junior lord inferior to, and even subordinated under, the more illustre duke, spoke of Uthyr's faith. "He lacks not faith no." Caradoc grudgingly conceded. "Its his wits and learnedness that has always been the problem. Other likes best a problem that can be solved with a sword." Caradoc bemoaned. Truthfully his whining was at least part for show. Having been fostered with the future king half a century ago Caradoc thought of the younger man whom he had served his entire adult life like a brother. In truth he liked Uthyr better than he ever did any of his true brother, and had always done his best to guide his friend. That was after all why he was in Winhover.

Chuckling as the Torrian count gave his thoughts, thoughts that where pleasantly similar to those of Caradoc, the archbishop nodded slowly. "I will let you in on a secret count." The cleric said. "This conclave has also been quite a bit more amusing than listening to the sermons of stylites." Caradoc smirked, glad that the Torrians seemed as perplexed and opposed to the strange Victorian notion of an imperial resurrection as was Brythain.

Reinvigorated the archbishop nodded to himself. "No emperor shall rise with Brythain's aid I can tell you as much." The bishop declared. "Brythain fear not the Evorans and has lived in peace for years with the Nestorians and the Gaellans. Brythain is not so easily cowed by fear of either of these peoples that we should permit a foreign king to rule us. Or as Uthyr succinctly put it; I shall strangle whichever whoreson who tries to lord himself over me and mine with his own intestines before submitting to him. Brythain has its Pendragon and wants no emperor." Impersonating his king by lowering his voice into a harsh threatening deep baritone while he delivered Uthyr's thoughts on empire, Caradoc broke out in laughter at his own jest once he had spoken his king's mind.

The archbishop, amused by his own jest, leaned back in his chair and lifted his goblet at the other man in a salute before taking a sip. "You are too kind My Lord, but I am glad if my presence has made the conclave feel less like a waste of time. If so I will consider the torturous walk here worthwhile." Said the bishop. He paused for a moment. Then he nodded slowly to himself. "And as it seems our kings think much alike on these matters, and because of that old kinship that my king cares too much about I think I can say that I do not believe the Torrians would need stand alone if indeed an emperor was to rise and threaten the peace of the land." The archbishop promised.




The Kingdom of Brythain
Cammlon's Citadel, the City of Wentā Genys
Under the Sovereignty of Uthyr V Pendragon


Image




Princess Morygena of Brythain

Time unknown and unknowable




Sitting at the bedside of her mighty sire Princess Morygena's eyes was watery behind the cold calming mask that concealed her burned face as she looked down upon Uthyr V, Brythain's Pendragon. The great king that had dominated Morygena's childhood as a distant but formidable figure seemed small and frail as he lay sweating and pale in what it seemed increasingly likely would be his dead bed. With both archbishop Caradoc and Morygena's younger brother Artwyrys in Victoria, the princess was left with the reigns of the kingdom. She had summoned Cynlass, etyfedd of Ternyllwyg, and Meuryg, etyfedd of Gywent, to aide her ruling the kingdom but already the princes and lords stirred sensing weakness and division. Cynlass's father Gorfyddyd, Prince of Ternyllwyg, already encouraged his ally Gwynllyw, who called himself king of the Essylyrr, to insubordination.

The arrival of a messenger bearing a letter from the Kaman order was therefore deeply pleasing to the beleaguered de facto regent of the kingdom of Brythain. If Nestoria where to attack while the king was sick and before a proper regency had been installed Brythain could fall. But more importantly Morygena needed troops to keep the princes and lords of Brythain in line until Artwyrys returned and could force them to renew their oaths of allegiance to the Pendragon. Quickly, and without consulting anyone, Morygena penned a letter to the Kaman order.

Morygena, Princess of Brythain, to Lord Tullus and Lady Gellia of the Kaman Order, sends her best of wishes and heartfelt greetings,

On behalf of my lord father, King Uthyr, Brythain's Pendragon, I am pleased to receive your missive most estimable warlords of the Kaman Order. The enemies and threats facing the kingdom of Brythain and the servants of the Pendragon are many and I would be delighted to meet with you to discuss commissioning the services of your order to aid the cause of the Kingdom of Brythain against its foes in Nestoria and elsewhere. Come therefore to my father's seat in Cammlon's citadel that we may discuss this matter further.

In the Light of the Three, I Morygena, daughter of Uthyr and Princess of Brythain, sign, and with my father's seal affix this letter.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 10:29 am
by The Grim Reaper
Yales Camp
Juniper Bloodstain

Juniper carried herself with surprising poise - not just for a Bloodstain, but even for a noble. She did not waver as she walked behind Sir Alaric, a small trace of ruby red hanging to her hair, from where she had ducked her head under the bedraggled corpse of her wagon driver. Almost habitually, she had already started letting her eyes run over her surroundings, taking in as much as she could. For a moment, those so inclined would have considered her worried, or lost - but, were they to pay more attention, they would note that the rest of her body was entirely devoid of such erratic behaviour.

All, but her eyes, almost crazed in their wavering. A deep black void, speckled here and there by the red that so often marked the Bloodstained. A result of their chronic insomnia.

A small necklace hung at her neck - a rudimentary dagger, made of the heartwoods that were sometimes felled in the Bloodstain lands. Like her eyes, it was a deep, charred black, held together - it seemed - purely by an iron will, and the beady red sap that had crystallized around it. On the surface, an easy symbol to replicate, but at close glance, the sap and the wood underneath it gave light a sharp, brutish tinge that could not be copied.

She did not say a word as she followed, fuming on the inside at the needless slaughter of her traveling companions. It was not an uncommon fate - one does not survive in Stainedhall if one mourns the dead. Yet, it was so unnecessary to add to that toll.

As she entered the command tent, her relatively modest travel-wear came apart, seemingly at the seams. It was clever Bloodstain design, one of many hand-me-downs on which the treasury of generations had been spent. It was far more pragmatic than most nobles', yes, but it was as carefully designed as any King's robes. And these types of clothing - those which could be, at the turn of a finger, made into something entirely new - were a mainstay of the Bloodstained tailors. The leather jerkin and neatly hand-tailored hemp dress underneath gave way to sheer cotton sleeves and trimming, the intricate hand-woven designs on both being overshadowed by the sudden appearance of fabric.

Her head-covering was quickly pulled down around her neck, covering her jerkin and folding by design into its creases, as a scarf. Her hair flowing free, its sharp black colour contrasted eerily with what seemed to be porcelain skin. Her eyes passed over Sir Alistair as he greeted her, taking another look as Sir Alaric to take in his seemingly unending rage, and his uncouth dismantling of the severed head.

Ignoring his questions, Juniper looked at Sir Alistair, for a moment. An emotion flashed past her eyes, but made it no further than the bridge of her nose before being forced to dissipate. "Would I be wrong to assume your brother knows that those will spoil?"

PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 12:58 pm
by Laurvier
Yales Camp

Alistair leaned back in his chair. He finished chewing on the cheese before answering. "I suspect he does. But worry not for my brother's baubles. I'm reasonably certain the Demon can and will procure another pair when they do. Perhaps yours." He grinned. "I jest my lady! I jest." Setting down the loaf of bread, he walked over to a nearby tankard to pour out some wine and handed one cup to Juniper. "Your clothing, that is a neat trick. I always approve of a young woman disrobing."

"I suppose I should explain the situation. You see, I am well aware of House Bloodstain's reputation for targeted murder. Where the Yales are hacksaws and hammers the Bloodstains are scalpels. But before you consider taking it upon yourself to commit a swift act of desperation or vengeance, consider your setting. You may be able to kill me or my brother when we let our guard down, as I do now, but I've never heard of even the most legendary warriors cutting down hundreds let alone thousands by themselves." Alistair finished the wine then turned away purposefully to expose his back while refilling his cup then faced Juniper again. "Ah...cheap swill. You have seen what kind of company you are in. The men we lead are a ferocious, vile lot. Disciplined too but only because we command it. You kill me, well, you've seen Alaric's temper. I doubt he'll consider the consequences. His rage always win over his foresight to my dismay. You kill him and this army turns into a crazed mob that won't hesitate to, excuse me for being blunt...rape you to death then wear your flesh as a hat. Of course, you probably already understand all this. That is why I will let you keep that trinket around your neck. Plus, who am I to deny a lady her accessories?"

"Now, to lighter topics. What was the reason for your travels if I may ask?" Alistair said.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 5:29 pm
by Hafflegar
Vyktor: Victorian countryside


Judging by the position of the sun it was just past afternoon when Vyktor decided it was a good time to stop and rest a bit. Dressed as any other poor traveler would be, in a baggy thin green woolen tunic and trousers with worn brown leather boots and a travel-stained hooded cloak. The only real thing that would set him apart outwardly from the others would be the quiver bristling with arrows at his hip and a horse bow, which was made from a very flexible but strong composite consisting of wood and bone glued together in layers and then lacquered to keep it safe from the elements. The bow's recurve design also ensured a very strong draw power and range, easily matching the distance of a longbow with just as much force behind the arrow when fired while being much smaller, allowing it to be fired from horseback or on foot and twice as quickly. Vytktor figured it would be a couple more days before he had to worry about brigands and the like thus making excellent time on the main trading road. Looking back he could still see Victoria City on the horizon though it was a good three leagues distant by now at the very least. Glancing about for a place out of the sun, Vyktor spotted a nice looking thicket about a hundred meters to the right of the road (This close to the city they still kept the trees cut back to deter bandit attacks) and headed toward it. As always, he searched the area with his keen eyes to see if he could determine if anything was out of place from the last time he passed through. One of the things Vyktor was well known for was his vivid memory and the ability to pick out subtle details.

Halting at the edge of the thicket, Vyktor could detect nothing amiss except for the fact someone else had stopped not too long ago. Probably the merchant wagon I passed a few hours ago. Taking a position in the shade but making certain to be concealed from the road without losing line of sight Vyktor unslung his bow and set it across his knees, debating silently on where to go next. Maybe I should go visit Summerhaven. I've a deposit to make after all, plus bankers and nobles are never short on enemies that need killing.

PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2016 7:10 pm
by Esselman
Northwest of the border to Nestoria
Monastic Ruins


Lady Gellia had risen early in the day to train with the archers on horseback, constantly preparing them as they the mounted army of the Kaman Order were their very pride and joy.

"To bring honor to our order Brothers is not something so easily gained, nor is it easily kept. Battle, that is what shows our strength and tenacity. Without it what are we?" she left with the question before rearing up her horse, a black stallion.

With ease she fired off her bow dead on target, as per usual, and then hopped off the horse, petting him gently. Inside the ruins of the monastery, Lord Tullus looked to the alter that was broken before him, the old gods were worshipped here. His hand on the stone, he took a breath in and put his helmet on. He was interrupted by Cassius who brought new of the letter sent from Princess Morygena of Brythain.

"My lord. The Brythain's have responded, they bring good news. They would seek an audience with us, you, to ensure the conquest of Nestoria. What say you?" asked Cassius, in a humbled tone.

Lord Tullus' head rose, his back still turned to Cassius.

"Ready a small company, you shall go with me to Brythain," said Tullus

Cassius nodded and began to leave, he was clearly nervous about such an important deal and yet confused as to why he was being given such a responsibility this early on. Cassius, now at the stables, informed Lady Gellia of the development who gave him a suspicious eye before giving him a small note, written sloppily and quickly.

"Two mounted archers, 5 of the armored cavalry, they will always stay in formation, you shall be in front. His lordship remains at the center protected from a direct assault or formation of any kind. Your life is expendable, and do stay out of negotiations," she said to him grabbing him by the arm to direct him to where armor was kept.

"We only bring out certain gear in times such as these. You are the escort so you shall ensure safety all the way to the meeting location and back, speak to Jorel he will have the armory updated and ready for you, good luck Brother," she said to him before heading to the ruins wear Lord Tullus was silently sitting in his throne.

She only nodded to him upon entering, he then rose to his feet realizing they needed to move soon in order to be there within a days time. Cammlon's citadel was not terribly far from the Order's location, but it would take time no doubt, but their journey was a safe road anyhow. Tullus rested his hand on his sisters shoulder and spoke to her,

"Guard it well sister, you've never disappointed before," Lord Tullus said, leaving the monastic ruins.

Lady Gellia eyed the stone carved throne with immense curiosity. Sitting in it she leaned back before getting up again, she'd never sat in the direct seat of power, but it was rather comfortable. Not soon thereafter, Lord Tulus, and his group of protection left the Kaman Order's grounds and were headed to the Kingdom of Brythain. On horseback Lord Tullus gripped the letter that was sent to them and looked forward. The armored cavalry was slower than desirable but created a solid defense, while the mounted archers were there for the fast yet precise offense. Cassius, leading the group, was a nervous young Brother of the Order, but rode his steed with pride while adorned in armor.

PostPosted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 1:59 am
by Landenburg
Raven

Raven nudged Haruna, who was still piggy back riding on him, waking her up. They had arrived a beautiful quaint little village. It looked moreso something out of a story book, small and quiet. The grass was a healthy bright green and there was a road that had been paved by hand. Nearby were the well kept fields, with a forest by their side. "Wake up little girl. We're at small village named Stoneybrook. We should look to get a horse, as I do believe you're being followed by your previous captors. As a matter of fact," he said, setting her down "I will go off to find one right now. Try to keep to yourself, we already look like intruders to these people. I'll see if I can't find a horse.". He walked only a few steps before someone stopped him, a chubby old man. "Is that you Gerik? Finally come to pay yer respects ter yer dearest mother?". Raven gasped at the man before quickly speaking. "I believe you have me mistaken with someone else...". The man shook his head and followed up with his own retort. "No, it is you Gerik. You look just like your dad, the bastard.". Gerik, also known as Raven tried to step past the man. "Look, I just need a horse alright? I have coin.". The old man turned, looking over at another peasant who was watching. Turning back he muttered, "Of course of course, leave again wontcha." Starting to waddle away, the man continued speaking "Jeo over therr will help yer with a horse. Try to be a good lad and visit yer mother, righto?".

PostPosted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 2:50 am
by Relikai
Haruna nodded as she slid off Raven, patting her belt to make sure that her weapons were in place. Sitting on a bench, Haruna remained silent as she retied her hair into a ponytail, tucking it into her shirt, as she obsevred the exchange between Raven and an old man.

Nice village. Reminds me of home... the one two lives before... after fleeing from Kaea... Haruna thought. She came from a village in Kaea, escaping the horrors of war to another, spending her teen years with her parents and working hard before it was burnt to the ground. Bad memories, but memories which found her the alter-ego, which she has learnt to control after months of effort.

Dirty, filthy, and in need of a wash-up, Haruna spied a small trove by a barn which was used by some animals to drink from. Moving stealthily, Haruna began to scoop the water with her hands, splashing some over her face, feeling somewhat cleaner after nearly a week. Seeing that no one was around, she untied her weapons belt and skirt, quickly washing herself of dirt, and especially her thighs, which was defiled by the filth of Makin. In less than a minute, Haruna walked out of the barn, feeling slightly fresher.

Walking to Raven, who was nearly getting a horse, Haruna gave him a light punch on the arm. "Hey, don't worry so much about pursuers for now. Why don't you take some time to visit your mother? Good to have family, tell let them know how good you are. I'll accompany you if you need me."

PostPosted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 3:29 am
by Landenburg
Raven

"Well, firstly I must know now that my real name is Gerik. You can call me it if you like but in the mercenary world, I'm known as Raven. Now, we can go see my mother if you like. We've already acquired a horse from Jeo, albeit at the sacrifice of my own purse. He's just getting the saddle and such, so let's go." Gerik said, leading Haruna. It was a long walk so he made light conversation with Haruna. "I used to live in this village until I was eight but I ended up running away. I hated the peasantry work. Growing flowers just wasn't for me. So, I went and joined band with some outlaws." he said, pointing at the nearby forest. "They used to hide out there. They wouldn't attack this village because it was too close to them, someone would catch on or search the area. So the people made a deal, they'd keep quiet and they'd get left alone. I found out about them and ran off to join them as soon as I could.". Gerik stopped, as to his side was a fenced in area. "This is where my mother is, come. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet you.". Opening the rusty gate, he stepped forward. Inside the fenced in area were stones, all throughout the field. "She's this way. Try to stick to this path, it's disrespectful to walk on the people.". He walked forward, though he stopped at about twenty steps. "She's right here." he said, pointing at a stone. On the stone was ingraved a name, "Joanna". Sitting down in front of it, Gerik smiled and a single tear snuck it's way down his cheek. "Hello mother, I've come home again. Did you miss me?".