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Legends of Eroris: Arrival |IC|

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Everhall
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Legends of Eroris: Arrival |IC|

Postby Everhall » Tue Jun 21, 2016 7:13 pm

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Legends of Eroris: Arrival




OOC Thread




Co-OP- Shadowwell




...the Thrid Era began with the assassination of the Potentate Ulymel Idus by the forces of the Elder Cult. From that point on every minor warlord in Eroris went out with their petty war-bands all seeking the Ember Throne. From this chaos, a great general rose: Alaro Ashen! First of his Name of the Ashen dynasty and Dragon Conqueror of Eroris!

Imperial Scholar Ignus. On the Ashen Conquests of Eroris, written in 81 of the 4th Era




"It was too late by the time we saw them... Saw is a little bit of a understatement. I had seen a shadow move across the clouds, fast it was. Then... I heard the roar, that ferocious roar. At that moment, I knew the world had came to an end."

The Year was 170 of the Fifth Era, the 1st of Summer's End. That was the day that the world seemed to stop, when Eroris encountered the greatest challenge it had ever faced: The Akounate. The coalition of allied races had set their sights of Eroris and they wanted it. Terrible was their onslaught, they tore through Mirfuhn and subdued the Valyarians, only the Nords with mighty and brave warriors were able to fight them. At the gates of Isnhrion, capital of the Ashen Empire, were they were finally stopped, but only through luck. Emperor Omoris II of the House of Varian, successfully defeated the Akounateen Army, even with a overwhelming disadvantage. Even though the Empire had dealt a crushing blow to the Alliance, they, with their ravaged homes and armies were unable to push it. In the Ember Treaty, ending the war, the Akounate was confined to the Province of Mirfuhn, home of the dwarves, and they were to not threaten the Kingdoms of Eroris for a thirty years. There they would lie in wait, preparing for the day they would once again raise their swords in battle.

The Year is now 199 of the Fifth Era. The Emperor, like the empire he rules, lies dying and infirm, soon to leave for his son, Ruven I, the greatest challenge the land has ever faced. Opposed to the Empire is the Akounate, mysterious invaders from the South who will stop at nothing to claim this new land. Although they are strong, they too bear scars left from the last battle with the races of Eroris. To the West the Kingdom of Valyaria continues to fight for their independence, the mighty forces of the six Houses still do battle with the Akounate. To the North the strong Nords of Norravagg, still drunk from their victories over the Akounate, openly question the right of the Emperor to rule in their land.

Eroris shall bleed, flogged by the war that is to come. The stage has been set, the die has been casted. Soon the fate of all Eroris shall be decided...





"Impossible? Only if you don't try."
-Alaro I


Last edited by Everhall on Thu Jul 14, 2016 4:05 pm, edited 6 times in total.

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Kuhlfros
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Postby Kuhlfros » Tue Jun 21, 2016 7:48 pm

1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Jarl Valdr "Raven-Eyes"
'The Perch' Tower, Snowhawk Castle


Valdr stood out from the balcony on the highest tower in Snowhawk as a brisk Noravagg wind battered at the man to no avail, the Nord hardly felt the chilling gusts. Valdr's eyes began drifting around the fortress, thinking back to the history of many of the buildings. The joke among those in the south was that the standing Nord castles were actually living and defended themselves. Valdr could understand why they might think that as the craftsmanship and technology built into this and the other fortresses of Noravagg. Even the ruins still had running defensive mechanisms.

The ancient castle complex of Snowhawk has been home to three birds, three houses whose sigils were coincidentally birds. First came the Haukrs, the Hawks whom built the original Snowhawk fortress. Then came House Ari, the Eagles, whom expanded the fortress to it's modern size and made the Snowhawk Jarldom more powerful. And now the ravens, His family and their banner waved from the walls of Snowhawk.

Valdr left his view of the countryside and the city from 'the Perch' and made his way to his own work center, his council room where he and his deputies managed his jarldom. When he arrived he found his Spymaster already present in the room, writing a series of small letters and notes, most likely to be distributed as orders to his spies later on.

The spy looked up and Teit the Spymaster stood up and bowed to his liege, the man's long white beard touched the table as he did so. "My lord," he spoke softly, "good day, do you have any need of me? It is uncommon to see you in the council room at this early of an hour."

Valdr nodded and responded, "Hello Teit, yes I need your reports of the other Jarls and the High King, and might I say it again, thank the Direwolf I managed to pick up the veteran whose spy network includes spymasters of other jarls."

A toothy grin appeared behind the old spy's beard and responded, "Flattery will get you nowhere my lord, and yes the reports, Alereid is holding a city festival which has attracted the people from Redwood and Hazelmere so it will be crowded and guards will be more alert than usual. As expected, the Jarls of Tarnak and Nor are amassing more forces, Thanemarch has become aware of this and is starting to amass thier own banners. As usual Orrin's Fort is looking past the wall, not behind it ."

Valdr once again nodded, "Thank you Teit, I'll leave you be, I have other councilmen to attend to."

Valdr found one of his closest friends in the room across the hall, a room with a table with many seats and a map of Eroris sprawled across it however at the moment, battle pieces were only laid out around in Noravagg, his closest friend, Marshall of Snowhawk Sirgild 'Iron Foot'. Once one of the greatest warriors in the land, whom was maimed and lost his foot, and now has an iron replacement.

Sirgild spoke first, "It is coming soon Valdr, the mission your father and your father's father started and you will finish...the work we have put in for this finale to the despicable Ashen Empire and the puppet High King."

"You are right Sirgild, our alliance with the Jarls of Tarnak and Nor, our sabotage of the High King's army logistics, structure and training. And the development of our own organization, different from that of the Ashen Legions, Nord Brigades have been the greatest development and training to make our warriors fight as a unit of pure Northern rage and power. The time is coming, once word of that Emperor's death, we declare our war and independence."
Last edited by Kuhlfros on Wed Jun 22, 2016 8:21 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Kuhlfros
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[21:48] <Kuhl> ∞/10
[21:50] <Shy> AND KUHLFROS SAID UNTO THE EARTH: LET THERE BE SPECIAL SYMBOLS FOR THE RATING OF BLAMESHIFT OUT OF TEN
[21:50] <Shy> AND THE WORLD COMPLIED
[21:50] <Kuhl> I just googled the infinity symbol XD
[21:52] <Kuhl> BUT I WILL GO WITH IT
[21:52] <Shy> ALL HAIL
[21:53] <Shy> THE VIKING GOD KULHFROS
[21:53] <Kuhl> OFF TO VALHALLA

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Woodstovia
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Postby Woodstovia » Tue Jun 21, 2016 8:07 pm

1st Last Light (11) 199 5E

The walls of Atlas were tall and thick, with . It was said that in ancient days before the Empire and before the High-Kings of The Reach House Atlas had been kings in their own right though Earwulf wasn't quite sure what they called themselves. Some scholars claimed they were kings of the pass, styled after the entrance to the Elven Vale though it was a little less grand than Earwulf had hoped. Atlas didn't quite look like a castle for kings either. It was the second largest in The Reach just as House Atlas were the second strongest house yet it wasn't as grand as the Ember Tower or Lenora. Atlas was instead ominous and strong looking, with it's insides being dim, smoky and poorly lit. The castle lacked comfort and lavishness but it was strong enough and hard to besiege.

Above the turrets flew the symbol of his house -
Image
and above that flew the flag of the empire. "The last bastion of loyalty" - That's how he'd have framed it. House Atlas would've been sung about as a symbol of loyalty and honour for centuries. Instead his father had let the other lords of The Reach call him a coward, traitor, turncloak. That one stung most of all, mostly because everyone who called him a turncloak was a turncloak themselves. But they had won so they were honourable freedom fighters and Osfryd Atlas was a treacherous elf-lover. Maybe it was best that Earwulf had never known him. His father sounded like an idiot. The Empire didn't seem to especially thank them for their great show of loyalty either. They'd lost the war and forgotten about them. Granted the Emperor was old, sick and dying and Earwulf had made sure to stay away from the capital but a gesture of appreciation would be nice.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to be a part of the emperor. He thought, descending down the spiral staircases into the expansive dungeons of his castle. The elves were all about loyalty and chivalry. Even their gods were all good and kind even though Earwulf still bowed and prayed to them all the same. He was sure that if he ever stepped foot in their capital some fool who'd heard too many stories that had escaped The Reach would be challenging him to a fight. Perhaps the Emperor himself would put him in chains. To a certain extent Earwulf felt a prisoner in his own lands, longing to explore; to travel and see the Empire. He'd heard so much about the capital, how amazing it looked... But he would never go there, not until the rumours cooled ff and there was better communication between Atlas and the Emperor.

Ironically the dungeons were probably the part of the castle where the most thought had been put in. In was a large, expansive labyrinth of hallways lying beneath the earth. Earwulf had to keep a map on himself at all times for fear of getting lost as many before him had. In the ancient times when they were kings house Atlas had kept their crowns through fear. Once the Lenora had tried to conquer Atlas, they'd marched with a great host through The Reach. But when they got to Iron Point they were met with rolling hills of the impaled bodies of Lenorian soldiers - gathered up from former battles. Thus the Lenorians fled and Iron Point got it's name - from the points of the spears that impaled the dead soldiers and for the points which sat unmolested - indicating that when the host was defeated they too would be impaled.

It was hard growing up, hearing those tales and remaining uninterested in the dungeons. At first it'd been curiosity - what were they like? Then it was a solitary place. He was alone in the dungeons, away from the councillors scheming and the different power-plays, the feasts so tense that he could barely breath. Who would think to look for their young lord down here? And then it turned to curiosity again - they were his to do with as he liked. Nobody knew what happened to them down here, so what if a few went missing? And it spiralled from there. They were his - his toys, his to play with. And they'd broken the rules, hurt the other toys, hurt his villagers and now they had to be punished. He felt a gnawing at the back of his mind - the hunger he always felt. He needed blood, he needed to watch them suffer. They needed to suffer, for all the councillors who haunted him even after he'd squeezed the lives from them, for his dead idiot of a father, for the scars of the rebellion that hurt his land for his longing to see the capital. He needed blood. He took a knife and stalked down the labyrinth. There was a fresh man down there today. A thief. Earwulf had heard his begging as he was dragged into the prisons "I only stole a loaf! It was for my children!". Stealing was stealing and his knife was hungry, his blood would be pure and red and visceral and oh so beautiful just like blood always was. Earwulf bit his lip and found the man.
Last edited by Woodstovia on Tue Jun 21, 2016 8:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Albertae
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Postby Albertae » Tue Jun 21, 2016 8:41 pm

1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Citadel of the School of Kurth
Octagonal Training Room


It was eleven o'clock when Abus and Aracia were training against each other casting block spells and smaller more controlled destruction spells. The room itself was built by a powerful wizard who founded the School of Kurth and built the Citadel many centuries ago. It was an indestructible room on purpose, protected by an unknown spell that only the Elders of the School of Kurth knew.

Aracia threw a controlled fire ball at Abus to which he dodge rolling to the right.

He got up to catch his breath and nearly got hit by another of her fire balls. He threw up an illusion spell confusing Aracia for a moment, so that he could sneak another couple of places around.

He often used the mirror spell, so Aracia quickly came to her senses realizing it was an illusion. She started once again to throw a fire ball at him missing by near centimeters.

The fireball had been centimeters from and he was sweating from the exertion and heat. He cast another Illusion spell which made him camouflage into the surroundings.

Immediately when he moved, Aracia noticed him and the camouflage illusion wore off. She cast a fireball at his feet this time causing him to tumble meet feet in front of her. She stood over him fire ball gleaming off her left hand.

Abus stood up realizing he'd loss pleading mercy. Once he was up he said,"You get better then me every day." He said this with a smirk obviously pulling her leg.

Aracia smirked,"Yeah right. We all know I was better than you from the start. Let's go get some lunch."

Abus smiled,"You know I had a nice picnic planned for us if I had won. I guess that's not happening."

Aracia had a discerning look on her face,"Are you serious right now Abus?"

Abus laughed,"I'm just kidding. Come on, let's go eat. We can enjoy the fresh air."

Picnic Area

Abus was chowing down on a chicken leg, while Aracia just dat there looking around at the beautiful valleys and mountains. She absolutely loved the Vale. In all of its beauty and harmony, Aracia loved the flowing green grass that covered the parts of the valley not occupied by a town or city.

Once Abus had finished eating nearly half of his chicken leg he said,"I know you enjoy the view, so I thought a nice picnic would be on our plate today." He laughed a bit realizing he had made a pun.

Aracia rolled her eyes and laughed a bit saying,"It is indeed beautiful. It's too bad it can't look this beautiful everywhere.

Abus thought of his home in the Reach. It was a beautiful serene place. He replied to her,"Oh, but there is. The Reach is just like this, but with flowing fields of grass and crops and harmony." He was tempted to say that one day they would live in the Reach, but he didn't want to push Aracia.

Aracia replied,"Nothing as beautiful as this. I grew up in a forest patch somewhere near here." She looked around only to realize there were many forest patches and everything looked alike.

Abus smiled,"There is something as beautiful as this and that person is you."

Aracia smiled and they kissed for a moment.

Once they had finished eating their picnic lunch they say a bit together cuddling taking in the sights. After doing so, they got up and headed back for the Training Room to see the Mentor, Teomdil Letaire.
Last edited by Albertae on Wed Jun 22, 2016 8:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Everhall
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Postby Everhall » Tue Jun 21, 2016 9:25 pm

Almrick Varian
The Ember Tower
Isnhrion, The Vale
The Ashen Empire




Almrick stormed down the hallways of a palace that once was a home too him. Servants and nobles alike stopped from their minor gossips and gave look to the nephew of the Emperor that now lay dying in his bed of silk. Mud tracked the floors of the Ember Tower as roars of thunder shook the mountainside. The sound of the thunder boomed through Almrick's ear; he did not stop, he did not notice.

The Reachman walked to a set of double doors, made with patterns of history, war and conquest on their rims. It didn't matter to Almrick. He just needed to see his uncle. Reaching for the door knob, Almrick hesitated unsure of what to do. It had been years since he and his uncle had last seen each other. Years long gone. Should he even had come here? Was it a big mistake? He should turn back...

"Almrick."

For the first time, the Reachman turned. There standing in front of him was his cousin, Ruven. The one he had not wanted to run into.

"Ruven," said Almrick, "You still look the same as when I left."

"I wish I could say the same for you Almrick... It's been too long..."

Almrick suppressed any idea of running at that point. He was already there, it was time he sought it to its end.

"It's time to see him."

He reached for the handle and slowly turned the handle, opening the door into to room of the Emperor. His nose flared. The first thing that struck Almrick was the stench, the stink of death slowly approaching. He saw papers layer haphazardly around the room, obviously in neglect of Imperial duties. Laying in a layer of soiled sheets lied the Emperor, Omoris Varian II.

"Uncle?"

The Emperor lifted his head up from his bed,

"A-nora?"

Almrick sighed, same old same old.

"It's Almrick Uncle."

The Emperor laid back, obviously disappointed,

"So Almrick. You have returned. Where were you all these years?"

"I was in Norravägg. I was a mercenary."

"Bloody work for bloody Nords... That was what you left the Vale for!?"

Almrick growled, "Those are my friend and countrymen you are talking about uncle! You have no right to talk about them so... so..."

"I always liked Anora better."

Almrick glared at him,

"She had real talent you know. She didn't go off in the middle of the night to-" before the Emperor could finish, a torrent of coughs erupted from him, blood splattering across his handkerchief,

"D-damn cough... Gonna be the death of me..."

Almrick looked away, "The hell is that?"

"My healers have no idea. All they know is that it is killing me..."

"...Goodbye Uncle..." Almrick said walking out of the room, the stretch was unbearable at that point. Ruven quickly entered with as his cousin began to walk back out of the palace, pondering the ordeal,

Who is he to judge what I do? He knows nothing the bastard...

Before he had even made it a few yards from the Emperor's chambers, Ruven ran out of the room,

"Almrick! Get help! He's on the floor!"

His eyes widened,

"GET THE HEALERS! NOW!"

Servants ran around in a flurry of chaos, many were openly crying. Soon a woman in wizard's robes ran into the Emperor's chambers. For ten tense minutes Almrick along with many servants waited for the news. Many knew it was coming, but most didn't want to believe it. Then, the door of the room creeped open, and the healer came into the hallway, a solemn look on her face,

"Friends," said the healer, "T-the Emperor.... Omoris Varian, Second of his Name, and Emperor of Eroris.... Is dead."

A cry of grief rang from the crowd.

"The Emperor is Dead, Long live the Emperor!"

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Relikai
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Postby Relikai » Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:34 am

Shimazaki Haruna
The Reach

Image


The fire shone in the darkness, the dimly lit forge illuminated by the blaze from the furnace. The temperature was near unbearable, for no normal flame produced such intense heat. No flame which runs only by coal and wood could produce the fire which obliterates rock and sand, while metal flows like thick honey into the basins below. Different metals flow differently, the designer of the forge cunningly manipulating their channels so the different densities of metals would flow separately, each in their purest form as they collected, ready to be poured into small metal casts, reforged into bars for future use.

The blacksmith pulled a bowl away, her gloved hands having a firm grip as her muscles bulged, her form slowly relocating the heavy vats before tipping them over, the molten iron flowing into a cast. Nodding in satisfaction as the cast was filled to the brim, the human pushed the metal vat back to the side of the furnace, working on the next metal. Silver. Gold was next, before the last of the metals, a rich mixture of pure black carbon and transparent diamonds, was pulled out directly from the furnace by long, heavy tongs. The carbon mixture was separated by a chisel, the black pieces scraped off by the tool as the diamond was forcefully extracted. Initially, a huge chunk of black carbon was thrown in, before the unique chemical fires reached a temperature meant to pressurize coal into their diamond forms. It was a complicated process, a process so unpredictable that most carbon simply burned with the fire, with only one percent of carbon successfully converting into a diamond.

However, the blacksmith's adoptive father has taught her the special ways of the forge, separating metals during their molten stage, and blasting carbon effectively so that a respectable five percent could be retrieved. Not all carbon could face such treatment, only the purest of carbon, found in deep mines which the blacksmith entered to find the precious material. Shimazaki Haruna, the blacksmith, took a towel as she wiped the uneven piece of diamond in her hands, it's colorless form indicating a piece of high value. However, such diamonds were not for sale nor jewelry.

They were for her weapons, and the fire was restarted as the diamond was returned into the forge. An hour later, the rock shimmered as Haruna tipped the oven, the diamonds dropping into a molten mixture of burning steel. Inside, they melted as the materials began to settle evenly, the newly treated Diamond Steel ready to be made into a sword.

Haruna hammered at the metal, her arm working tirelessly as her long hair was tied behind her. Her form showed the muscles on her back, arms and shoulders as she worked on the metals, her body not hiding her muscled frame within the confines of her workplace. While Haruna looks like a demure maiden with womanly curves and beautiful features, committing herself to the forge would cause her muscles to swell, although not by much as she kept her fats concentrated only by the front of her chest and the back of her groin.

The hammer came down hard onto the blade, flattening it as Haruna ignored the sparks which seared her skin. Even if she was to be burnt from head to toe, her natural healing would take care of the cosmetic factors. She was nearly topless, only wearing the sarashi which kept her breasts bound tightly together, making them look smaller than they actually were, enabling her to work and fight better, and the muneate which grants her chest some basic protection. Apart from that, all she wore a skirt lined with pockets where some of her tools were slotted into, Haruna often choosing to work with bare encumbrance.

The work continued over the afternoon, no one disturbing the smith as she finally gave the Diamond Steel edge a good buffing, feeling the deadly edge of diamonds and steel as she ran a gauze over it's side. Even the flat of the blade was dangerous, requiring a gauze cloth to clean, lest normal cloth gets shredded, or skin gets sliced open. Such was the nature of a pure Diamond Steel weapon, it's edge covers the entirety of the blade.

Wiping her perspiraton, Haruna pulled off her chest guard as she walked out of the smithy, grabbing some fresh air as her muscles returned to their normal form, well hidden under the lithe body of Shimazaki Haruna. Her body, with her sizable assets would put most courtesans to shame should she be selling her body back in the towns and cities, even when made smaller by her attire. Regardless, the employer who provided Haruna with her little dwelling and a forge upon hiring her seemed a good man, treating her well and paying her in exchange for her skills and protection. She could fight, and she was trained in the arts of anti-magic. A Spellbreaker, perhaps the only one of her kind, Haruna was trained in such a way that her magic would not consume anyone nor herself, but rather to channel them into a flow which does not harm those around her.

Reverse magic, spell breaking. She was hired as an assassin once, to slay wizards and those who wield the Art. A wielder herself, Haruna has to think from the perspective of a wizard, how they'd fight, and formulate her plans to hunt and kill them. So far, she has succeeded, and martial opponents fall to her usage of her magic. Even so, Haruna doesn't see herself as a fighter. Draping a robe over herself, the warrior sat by the door, taking the time to rest. Forging a weapon was hard work, but the fruits of her labor would always come to pass. She'd estimate the price of the weapon to hit a base of two thousand coins due to the materials and the weapon's properties, as she looked up to the sky, and smiled.
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Dernland
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Postby Dernland » Wed Jun 22, 2016 4:58 am

Aldaos Farmstead
1st Last Light, 199 5E


"Mother stop, please." I said, turning a vibrant shade of crimson. My mother had been fussing over me all day, trying to make sure I had everything I needed before my journey. She had just now come sprinting out with a basket-full of sweetrolls, my childhood favorite, mixed with wild blackberries. I normally would have been thanking her on hands and knees for such a treat, but I was in front of the entire town. "If anything I'll be over-fed, don't want me getting out of shape would you?" I jested, grinning slightly in my usual manner. She blushed and mumbled something under her breath before shuffling off to join my father and the rest of our clan in the center of the crowd. Everyone, despite being distraught over losing one of their own to the wide world, was beaming with pride. My grandfather stood next to his brothers, sons, and grandsons, all of them tall, fair haired and nearly identical. I was always the odd man out in that regard, resembling more the Reachmen than the Mayaar.

I waved goodbye to the crowd of assembled well wishers and they cheered my exit. Turning down the well traveled dirt road leading away from the town, I truly began my adventure.
I am a Mormon

I have no wives
I love jello


I don't hate homosexuals
Potatoes are a staple of my diet, but only because my family's Irish


I'm not rich.


TG me any more stereotypes and I'll see if they fit.

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The Tophat Empire
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Tophat Empire » Wed Jun 22, 2016 7:04 am

1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Count Wiking Of Summerset
County of Summerset, The Reach
Summerset mansion






A small group of 12 men on horse rode up a hill, 20 minutes away from the capitol of the County of Summerset. This house, more like a Manor, with its 100+ rooms had served as the seat of power and hope of the region's count, and his descendants. However, there were more buildings, on top of this hill, all surrounded by a rather thick leaf forrest. There where the stables, where the Golden Company, the servants as well as the lord and his family all keep their wagons, carriages and mounts. Then there were 10 small houses along the road up to the manor, in those houses the higher ranking servants and others under contract lived. Even if space was available in the main house, for there were not many rooms in constant use, wiking thought it only right that those most dedicated should be able to live with their family and a small cottage, all supported by the Count. Except those there were also several smaller storage and utility houses all over the premise, and a small fort ca 2 kilometers away, housing the 100 men of the Golden Company.

Wiking, his butler Franz and 10 men out of the mounted part of the Golden Company had inspected a new battalion of men resting in summerset on their way towards one of the many border forts that existed along the edge of his territory. Of Course all the soldiers had passed with good merit. Wiking was proud to not only call his men some of the most well trained and equipped troopers there were, but also the cleanest.

He had noticed that those that keep themselves clean stayed healthy, and fought better on the field, and as such had mandated a certain level of hygiene always be present on his men, and the difference was noticeable. Not that his men saw much action, Summerset was safe, and the Regiments under his command made sure it would remain that.

As wiking and the other mounted men, of all manners of race, and both genders, came to a halt on the large plaza just outside the main mansion, wiking looked at Franz, his head servant and likewise butler. Franz and his family had served in that capacity for just as long as wiking had been count. "Have the golden report back at the fort, stable the horses again, and send down a currier down to Miss Shimazaki Haruna. It's time my armor and weapon got some maintenance and fitting" Wiking said, Franz nodding in reply, saying "As you command my lord".

Wiking dismounted and walked into the mansion, making his way towards his study and work room he sat down and got to work with the day's papers, at least until something else would take his attention.




Down in the "servant village" as it was called one house stood out, it had a rather large add-on construction, this was the home and workplace of Shimazaki Haruna, The White Maiden as she was also called. Here she served as Court smith, as well as Wiking's bodyguard and adjutant on longer or more dangerous missions. The road that passed thru the village was empty, bar a man on a horse, slowly trotting down the road. The man was wearing grey clothing, a black cloak and a tricorn hat with a pin the shape of a edelweiss, the emblem of Wikings dynasty, and those that serve it.

The horseman stopped in front of Haruna's house, dismounted and walked up to the the young lady sitting by her door. The mount he came on standing still, as the well trained creature it was. The man stopped and removed his hat, before speaking to Haruna "Miss Shimazaki Haruna, His lordship the count has asked for your presence, when you can spare the time" he said
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It does not reflect my real life world political views, which are considerably less authoritarian and more moderate
Refer to my factbook for canon, it´s however out of date, and badly written. So take it with a grain of salt

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Everhall
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Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:01 am

Phaerl the Sword
The Citadel of Kuruth
Ashen Empire




Breathing heavily as she ran down the magnificent halls of the citadel, Phaerl knew that she had little time. The rain-drenched letter that she had received was evidence that trouble was afoot, she had to get back to her Uncle. Running into her disorganized room, the result of countless nights of studying, the Mayaar grabbed many of her belongings, stuffing them haphazardly into a woolen sack.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Phaerl flinched, and almost released a torrent of magic into the Archmage who was currently speaking to her. Realizing her almost incineration of her master, the High Elf quickly explained,

"Archmage! I'm terribly sorry... but I have to go. There... is something wrong back home."

"Whatever you have to say to me Phaerl." the said the Archmage

Phaerl looked down, "No... I can't."

Understanding her point, the Archmage patted Phaerl on the shoulder,

"Don't get hurt... and remember your training."

With that the Archmage walked out of the room, leaving Phaerl to start towards the training room. She needed her sword.
Last edited by Everhall on Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:01 am, edited 1 time in total.

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The United Equstrian Front
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Founded: Mar 04, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby The United Equstrian Front » Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:20 am

Araki Ebizo 1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Norravägg Wall of Orrin


The clash of blades and the thump of bodies hitting the ground lifeless entered his tired mind, the memories of great battles won and parades in his honor, he shook his head. He looked behind him at the Wall, he turned and continued onward to his journey. The recent bounty gave him enough silver to rent a carriage for a week, then the performances gave him more gold then he thought possible. He smirked and shifted his coin purse to a more secure place in his armor. He heard his feet crunching on the snow, soon joined by others from all around him, he stopped allowing himself to be surrounded the bandits jeered at him taunting him into a fight unaware they were taunting death. Soon their leader shut their traps and watched the samurai, he soon drew his warhammer prompting his lackeys to do the same with their own armaments.

They didn't bother with negotiating terms or anything since they knew they had the numerical advantage, before most could take their first step Araki had already unsheathed his nodachi and bisected the leader and rebounded from the leader to a scimitar wielding orc stabbing him through the chest and kicking away a Reachman allowing him to cut through the Orc's side and parrying a machete sweep from another decapitating the unfortunate soul. The bandit party ran after loosing their leader and his lieutenants. After looting the bodies of food and coin along with drink Araki Ebizo continued his walk to the Vale.

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Relikai
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Relikai » Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:33 am

The Tophat Empire wrote:
1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Count Wiking Of Summerset
County of Summerset, The Reach
Servant Village

"Miss Shimazaki Haruna, His lordship the count has asked for your presence, when you can spare the time"


Haruna looked at the horseman, nodding with a low bow.

"It shall be then, His Lordship who calls for his servant, she will answer." Haruna replied with a smile. "Go fast, back to His Lordship, Shimazaki Haruna will arrive within the hour."

Returning back to her home, Haruna removed all her clothing, using a bucket of river water to clean her hair, her skin. Off came the grime, and on came some fresh clothes. A new sarashi, a formal white top and short red skirt as Haruna secured her sash. Together with her weapon belt, came the newly forged weapon, a curved katana of diamond steel. Her horse was tethered in the local stables, Haruna tossing the stable boy a silver coin for his help. Her horse was a simple riding horse, not a true stallion, just a respectable animal to bring her from point to point.

Riding at a leisurely pace, Haruna arrived at Summerset Mansion, removing her weapons belt of two katanas as she entered the house. She was used to the presence of nobles unarmed, as she held her belt out for a guard to hold, her new creation wrapped in a thick purple cloth. Escorted by the troops, Haruna stopped as she saw Franz, falling into a curtsy, formally announcing her arrival. The 'White Maiden', although Haruna preferred the name 'Sword Maiden', because of her blades rather than her white robes, then took the chest as she presented it before the butler.

"For the Lord, Good Sir." Haruna said. "Fresh from the fire before your man came."
Contactable via Skype - Julius_Kanzaki , if y'all desire other Roleplaying Opportunities. TG before adding.

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Kolmya
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Postby Kolmya » Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:41 am

About 12 miles outside of Oldstone
Snowhawk, Norravagg


Lothar opened his eyes, the grey morning light, along with his biological clock, telling him it was time to arise from his slumber. He slowly sat up in his bedroll, rubbing the crust from his eyes, and attempting to shake drowsiness from his mind. Lothar stood, stretched his hands behind his head, and walked over to his small designated fire area, which was located near the entrance to his cave, preparing to cook breakfast. As the smell of bacon filled his nose, he pondered what today would have in store for him, where he would go, what he would do. He lived in solitude amongst the trees, practically in the middle of nowhere, and could go on day long hikes without seeing another person. Not that he would want to anyway. Other than hiding from the law, he hated humans and other company. Lothar preferred to take solace in the peace of nature, the simple things, and the serenity of knowing no human would fuck up your day.

He dressed in his usual garments of a tunic and breeches, preparing to head out into the wild. Other than his clothes, he would need what he referred to as a pack. ‘A Pack’ contained a water skin, the rope ladder to his house, a slight amount of food, a handmade map, and finally a hunting knife. His house consisted of a small cave in the side of a rock face, about 12 feet of the ground, which he got into and out of with the aforementioned rope ladder. After throwing down the rope ladder he set out for another day of the tramping through the all-too familiar woods. Lothar knew every large rock, memorable tree, and landmark within a ten-mark radius and had even made a map of it. A thought came over him. He had gone through these woods every day for half a year now, he should go to town for a change. No matter how much he hated humanity, there was no doubt that he needed supplies to further enhance his homestead, as well as hear news of the outside world.

So he set off, over root and stream, through hedge and branch towards Oldstone. It took him longer than it should have, due to his frequent stops to take in nature, as well as occasionally leaving the fastest path to explore areas he hadn’t been before. It wasn’t too long though until he finally reached the winding stone path leading into Oldstone. A stone gate arched over the entrance to Oldstone, a small village that was a cluster of about 15 homes, all with the familiar Nordic shaped roof to keep snow off. The town was small enough that there was only road going in and out at each end, with small dirt paths going off to the left and right lined with the houses. The more important buildings, the goods store and the tavern, were located directly off the stone path, so travellers would be able to find them easier. The small size of the town, about 50 people, meant there were no guards there to prod and question you.

Anyway, Lothar headed immediately to the tavern, longing for some news of the outside world…

To be continued...
Last edited by Kolmya on Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
Galborea wrote:We are the Doomfags of Troubled Candlebride Reverence.

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Zanera
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Ex-Nation

Postby Zanera » Wed Jun 22, 2016 9:59 am

Kharden Axeheaver
1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Mirfuhn, Akounate Occupation
Mol Darihm



Draw back.
Overhead swing.
Plink
Draw back.
Overhead swing.
Plink
Draw back.
Overhead swing.
Plink
This is what Kharden did for most of his day, mining minerals from the mines that the dwarves used to own, now owned by the invaders of his beloved homeland. The same bastards who killed his father. Perhaps he should have died, but it was too late, much too late, to think about that now. Now,he had to focus on surviving under the Akounate's rule, and not getting caught under collapsed rock or drowned or suffocated by the gasses that can get released from the rock. The Akounate had little worry for the safety of the mines, as long as the minekeepers can get out, dwarven lives did not matter much. Today Kharden found himself working next to a dwarf named Gimblid. Gimblid was a little older than Kharden, and had also fought against the Akounate invaders, and was captured. He did not say much more than that about his tale, nor did the others, but it was probably all the same for all. Except Kharden. He had surrendered to the Akounate, not slaughtering the bastards who had just killed his father, not dying to defend his homeland or to avenge his father's death.

Kharden was back, deep down in his dark thoughts again, when Gimblad spoke in a low whisper," I'm blasted tired of *plink* these bastards. They think they can *plink* take our lands, kill our people, *plink* and get away with it? Bastards, I'm *plink* about ready to bash their heads in." *plink*

Kharden was rather surprised, Gimblad rarely spoke. But the feeling was the same amongst many of the dwarves, and in Kharden. The dwarves knew it would take much force to overthrow the Akounate, they didn't know, however, when this force would be assembled, nor how how to herald themselves. Communications and travel was limited by the occupiers. Any substantial item on the black market was highly lucrative. Kharden said in a low whisper," We've got to find a way to *plink* put all these bastards down and send them away. *plink* But we'll need a lot more than Mirfuhn to *plink* drop kick their lizard and kitty asses off *plink* the continent, even if for a little while. It's gotta happen *plink* sometime, the other nations are still *plink* under threat, even if they're sitting cozy unoccupied." *plink*

All of a sudden there was a plink to Kharden's right, and turning his head suddenly, found that the elder dwarf Lomli had come up beside Kharden.It just occurred to Kharden that Lomli was going to speak with the other two dwarves when Lomli spoke," Took advantage of an old bastard, they did. *plink* I was in the reserve unit, but before the battle had been going on fer three minutes we were called *plink* up in haste. Lords know I was a huffin' and a puffin' before I came to the front line. Got captured *plink* before I could kill three of the bastards. Sat out for the rest of the war. Lords know I'll die in these damned mines!" *plink*

The old dwarf had gotten angry and went on to overexert himself, causing himself to fall over. Kharden threw down his pickaxe to catch him, but Gimblad was already there to catch the elder dwarf. "Grandfather, you know not to do yourself in like that. Remember the last time you did? They said another time and you'll be eating their blade!"

This came as a surprise to Kharden, since he did not know that Lomli was Gimblad's grandfather. A lantern lit up the passageway and two of the two-legged lizards came walking around the corner of the mine. "Dwarf, what did I tell you? Stop working again, and I'll have to kill you. You two, why the hell aren't you working?"

The lizard that was not speaking went up and ripped Lomli out of Gimblad's arms. When Gimblad started rushing forward from his kneeling position, he received a whip to his cheek. He fell down, holding his cheek, before getting back up. "Damn you," said Gimblad, under his breath.

"Xarlek, this one seems to have reached his limit. No longer useful," said the minekeeper that frequented the mine's tunnels.

"You wouldn't dare, you bastards," said Gimblad, spitting at the two talking lizards.

"You dare to cease working working, dwarf?" asked the lizard, whipping Gimblad in the face again. Gimblad fell, clutching his face and issuing the heaviest curses he could muster. Lomli was forced to his knees, and the lizard that had ripped him out of Gimblad's arm drew out his sword and held it to Lomli's throat. "The time will come, grandson, do not fret. The time will come."

The sword slid across Lomli's throat, cutting it. Making sure the cut was deep enough, the lizard threw down Lomli. Gimblad, in his anguish, took up his grandfather's pickaxe, and swung it at the face of the of the executor. The executor blocked, and Varxak, the frequenting lizard, drew his own blade quickly, and thrusted it into Gimblad's stomach. Gimblad dropped the pickaxe and clutched his stomach, whispering," You bastards", before falling over onto his back, staring at the stone ceiling of the mine.

"You, dwarf, do you want to be next? Back to work, or you'll taste the blade too!" shouted Xarlek.

Kharden, quickly shaken out of his stupor at the scene that had just occurred in front of him, took up his pickaxe and instantly got back to work, glancing at Gimblad, who lay there, dying, his blood slowly oozing out of his body as his life faded away.

"All of you, back to work! Stop working, and you'll have the same fate! Now!" shouted Varxak. There was more plinks down the tunnel, and the two lizards eventually disappeared down the tunnel.

"Avenge my grandfather. Promise me, do what I failed to do. Avenge my grandfather," whispered Gimblad.

Kharden, still working, looked sidelong at Gimblad. "I'll avenge your grandfather, *plink* I'll avenge you, *plink* I'll avenge everyone. *plink* The Akounate won't slave us for long. *plink* You have my word." *plink*

Gimblad lay still as Kharden said his final word. Kharden paused for a moment, before he focused on his work again. Kharden turned to the other dwarves to his left, and he caught the look of one. The dwarf nodded, there seemingly being a sorrowful gleam in his eye, before the dwarf went back to work. Kharden, mustering himself, sighed angrily and loudly, and started mining the rock again, as his ancestors had done freely in the past.
Last edited by Zanera on Fri Jun 24, 2016 1:13 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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The Tophat Empire
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Posts: 4821
Founded: Sep 26, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby The Tophat Empire » Wed Jun 22, 2016 11:04 am

Relikai wrote:
The Tophat Empire wrote:
1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Count Wiking Of Summerset
County of Summerset, The Reach
Servant Village







"Miss Shimazaki Haruna, His lordship the count has asked for your presence, when you can spare the time"


Haruna looked at the horseman, nodding with a low bow.

"It shall be then, His Lordship who calls for his servant, she will answer." Haruna replied with a smile. "Go fast, back to His Lordship, Shimazaki Haruna will arrive within the hour."

Returning back to her home, Haruna removed all her clothing, using a bucket of river water to clean her hair, her skin. Off came the grime, and on came some fresh clothes. A new sarashi, a formal white top and short red skirt as Haruna secured her sash. Together with her weapon belt, came the newly forged weapon, a curved katana of diamond steel. Her horse was tethered in the local stables, Haruna tossing the stable boy a silver coin for his help. Her horse was a simple riding horse, not a true stallion, just a respectable animal to bring her from point to point.

Riding at a leisurely pace, Haruna arrived at Summerset Mansion, removing her weapons belt of two katanas as she entered the house. She was used to the presence of nobles unarmed, as she held her belt out for a guard to hold, her new creation wrapped in a thick purple cloth. Escorted by the troops, Haruna stopped as she saw Franz, falling into a curtsy, formally announcing her arrival. The 'White Maiden', although Haruna preferred the name 'Sword Maiden', because of her blades rather than her white robes, then took the chest as she presented it before the butler.

"For the Lord, Good Sir." Haruna said. "Fresh from the fire before your man came."


1st Last Light (11) 199 5E
Count Wiking Of Summerset
County of Summerset, The Reach
Servant Village







The courier nodded in and spoke in reply "At once" before bowing slightly, and mounting up on his steed. From the looks of things he had taken Haruna's words to hard, for like the wind he set off, riding the short distance up to the mansion with the utmost of haste, his cloak flowing from the wind he created as he rode.

Once Haruna arrived, her horse was taken of to the mansions small guest stable, and a servant quickly took the belt with her weapons, and carried them off to a small side room. Thus far all the servants had been just that, servants, not guards. But she would know that it was merely an illusion, all the servants were competent warriors, in one way or another.

When she presented the weapon to Franz he looked at it, smiled, and looked up to Haruna "I am sure his Lordship will take it to heart, feel free to present it yourself, he is waiting for you inside his study. Down the hallway, third door on the left." he said, nodding.

Inside the study Wiking sat by his large wooden desk, writing a letters and doing accounting. He watched up on a hourglass, with notches for every hour, and thought to himself that Haruna should arrive soon.
Last edited by The Tophat Empire on Wed Jun 22, 2016 11:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
FT, but roam where i please
It does not reflect my real life world political views, which are considerably less authoritarian and more moderate
Refer to my factbook for canon, it´s however out of date, and badly written. So take it with a grain of salt

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Everhall
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Posts: 4137
Founded: Sep 23, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 11:21 am

Phaerl the Sword
Citadel of Kuruth
Ashen Empire




Phaerl walked into a octagonal training room, one of many, known as Rooms of Learning. The room had four entrances, all leading to other sections of the citadel. The room was ornately decorated to serve any Mage that required time to tune their skills. Already inside the room was two mages, lounging about without a care in the world.

Phaerl glanced at them, irritated.

"Why are you both just laying about? Do something so I can call you amateurs."
Last edited by Everhall on Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Dernland
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Posts: 1713
Founded: Jul 15, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Dernland » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:24 pm

The Autmn Road, 6 hours march from Lenora
1st Last Light, 199 5E


It was getting late, and light was fading faster than I had originally anticipated. Everything moved so much slower back on the farm, but here time was condensed, sped up almost. The fading light wasn't helped by the ominous booms of thunder in the distance. I knew that I would need to find quick shelter, something hard to come by in the Reach. After a few more minutes of a steady, quick pace, I came on a tight grove of trees a short ways off the road. I entered quietly and slowly, not as much out of caution as reverence. Groves such as these were often holy grounds for the Old Gods, and may even have a few druí tending the trees and bushes within. Sure enough, near the center of the wood was a small clearing ringed with five ancient standing stones. Inside these stones lay five small pools of surprisingly clear, still, water. At the very center of the clearing was a ring of small stones, charred with old fires.

Immediately upon seeing the stones I knelt, bowing my face toward the dirt in complete reverence. The air smelled of water lilies and moon-flowers, signatures of only one god, to whom this grove must be dedicated. Étaín, old goddess of the moon, predators, and the hunt. With a storm on the horizon, I had little time to begin my plea for refuge on this holy ground. I stood, carefully picking through the underbrush for dry twigs and leaves, gathering enough for a small fire. Along the way I also searched for any herbs that would be pleasing as an additional offering, finding Turmeric and Thyme, traditional additions. I now took these ingredients, and, along with striking stones, began to light a quick flame in the area where fires would have been lit previously. The bright, cool flickers of light began to spread, catching on the leaves and twigs. I piled on a few larger sticks even as the odd raindrop began to fall. Wasting no time, I reached into my pack, pushing aside the small basket of sweetrolls, and finding some salted beef that had been stored for my travels. I retrieved a thin strip and rolled the herbs previously collected in it. The Gods preferred freshly killed meat for sacrifice, but such was what I had. I held the small roll in my hands, head bent, and began to chant softly.

"Étaín, féhe þes bærning for friþgeard beinnan úre bold." I murmured, carefully and reverently placing my offering in the center of the hot coals.

The flames quickly devoured the flesh, but the air was still with an ominous silence. Not a single animal spoke or moved, the only sound being the now soft and steady patter of rain on the green leaves. Suddenly, the long, mournful howl of a singular wolf echoed in the night. I sighed in relief, leaning back from the now dwindling flame. With my offering apparently accepted, however meager, I could now rest in peace. I ate in silence, enjoying a small cut of meat and bread, washing the dry meal down with a swig of water. Finishing, I gathered my belongings and lay back on the soft grass of the clearing and gazed into the sky, slowly drifting into a long peaceful sleep.
I am a Mormon

I have no wives
I love jello


I don't hate homosexuals
Potatoes are a staple of my diet, but only because my family's Irish


I'm not rich.


TG me any more stereotypes and I'll see if they fit.

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Kolmya
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Posts: 2692
Founded: Dec 17, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Kolmya » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:36 pm

Theme
The sign hanging adjacent to the door read Oakfrost Inn, complete with a sketch of an oak covered in frost below the name. Lothar pulled open the door, stepping into a cloud of haze and smoke. The intense aroma of burning wood in a confined room filled his nose and blinded his eyes, causing him to sputter uncontrollably. Many faces stared out of the gloom at him, wondering who else would be joining them this afternoon for a mead. The townspeople of Oldstone knew Lothar pretty well, as he knew them, but they kept their distance, for they knew Lothar preferred to be left alone. Neither of the parties hated each other, but they weren’t exactly friends either. After a couple of seconds of staring at the newcomer, the people of the tavern turned back to their drinks and conversations. Lothar strided over to the bar while simultaneously pulling his purse from his belt. These days, unlike a couple of years ago, he would pay with real, earned money rather than stolen money.

“Hello” he started awkwardly to the barkeep, “I’d like whatever you’re serving for lunch, and I’ll pay for gossip of recent events in the world.”

The fat, balding man behind the counter wiped his hands on his grease stained apron, and said as if half in thought, “Uhh, alright, the chicken soup with bread is the lunch today. Is that alright?”A quick nod of Lothar’s head informed him to proceed. “Uh, alright, that’ll be 10 coppers, including the news you’re buying.” the bar keep continued absent mindedly. Lothar pulled his purse from his belt and produced the required coins, then proceeded to lay them on the counter. He took a seat on a stool at the bar counter, and sat his pack on his feet. Other than pay to hear tales of far off lands and their happenings, Lothar intended to overhear other people talking and gather information from that.

As the barkeep recounted recent news from across Norravagg, Lothar came to the conclusion that the Nords were restless within the Ashen Empire. Another rumor he heard that he was baseless was that the Akounate might be preparing for an attack. But one thing was for sure, Lothar had felt a feeling he hadn’t felt since his youth. Wanderlust. When he was very little, he wanted to be a warrior and venture off to distant lands, but as he grew older and hated humanity more, he wanted to stay in the woods forever. But there was always a glimmer within him that reminded him of his old dreams of travelling the globe.

When the butcher had finished telling him the rumors, Lothar asked him another question, “Could I have travelling provisions for about 2 weeks?”
Galborea wrote:We are the Doomfags of Troubled Candlebride Reverence.

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Albertae
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Posts: 4680
Founded: Oct 14, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Albertae » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:38 pm

Everhall wrote:Phaerl the Sword
Citadel of Kuruth
Ashen Empire




Phaerl walked into a octagonal training room, one of many, known as Rooms of Learning. The room had four entrances, all leading to other sections of the citadel. The room was ornately decorated to serve any Mage that required time to tune their skills. Already inside the room was two mages, lounging about without a care in the world.

Phaerl glanced at them, irritated.

"Why are you both just laying about? Do something so I can call you amateurs."


Aracia was irritated by what she had said nearly going on a tirade, before Abus stopped her.

Abus recited the spell,"Manipulative Disguise", one that he had thought of personally. He recited the spell, because he noticed Phaerl hadn't put her sword in her sheathe yet, so to make Aracia happy he changed the look of Phaerl's sword to look like the common training sword. He asked,"What's the rush, Phaerl? Would you happen to be looking for a sword?"
My Political Compass:
Economic Left/Right: 2.63
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: 3.33
Pro: Trump
Anti: Hillary

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. -General George S. Patton
GENERATION 9: Social experiment. When you see this, add one to the generation and copy this into your signature.

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Everhall
Senator
 
Posts: 4137
Founded: Sep 23, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:46 pm

Anora Varian
Atlas, The Reach
Ashen Empire




Darkness loomed over the landscape, the result of the angered storm clouds that stood over the Reach. Fighting against the howling winds of the storm was Anora Varian, niece, or rather now, cousin to the Emperor. The hard sheets of rain only made her more craving of the warm homes of the city that approached her, Atlas.

She looked at the tall towers and homes of the city that she was heading for, ruled by a mad count if stories were to be believed. The city was surrounded by rows upon rows of unworked farms, obviously left by their owners in hast to make it into the city. Another gust of wind slapped Anora in the face and she cursed,


"Damn this wind, if it weren't here I would be in Isnhrion by now."

Anora continued to walk until finally she reached the main gates of the city. Hailing the guards, she began to speak,

"My name is Anora Varian, niece of the Emperor Omoris Varian II! I request court with the Count!"


Phaerl the Young
Citadel of Kuruth
The Ashen Empire




"Yes. I am. You happen to know where it is?" It wasn't a question.

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Albertae
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Posts: 4680
Founded: Oct 14, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Albertae » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:50 pm

Everhall wrote:Anora Varian
Atlas, The Reach
Ashen Empire




Darkness loomed over the landscape, the result of the angered storm clouds that stood over the Reach. Fighting against the howling winds of the storm was Anora Varian, niece, or rather now, cousin to the Emperor. The hard sheets of rain only made her more craving of the warm homes of the city that approached her, Atlas.

She looked at the tall towers and homes of the city that she was heading for, ruled by a mad count if stories were to be believed. The city was surrounded by rows upon rows of unworked farms, obviously left by their owners in hast to make it into the city. Another gust of wind slapped Anora in the face and she cursed,


"Damn this wind, if it weren't here I would be in Isnhrion by now."

Anora continued to walk until finally she reached the main gates of the city. Hailing the guards, she began to speak,

"My name is Anora Varian, niece of the Emperor Omoris Varian II! I request court with the Count!"


Phaerl the Young
Citadel of Kuruth
The Ashen Empire




"Yes. I am. You happen to know where it is?" It wasn't a question.


Abus realizing he'd probably done enough decided to give it to her. He picked it up off the shelf and said here you go. The spell was taken off of the sword when it came into view. Abus asked,"Where are you going Phaerl?"
My Political Compass:
Economic Left/Right: 2.63
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: 3.33
Pro: Trump
Anti: Hillary

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. -General George S. Patton
GENERATION 9: Social experiment. When you see this, add one to the generation and copy this into your signature.

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Everhall
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Posts: 4137
Founded: Sep 23, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 12:54 pm

Phaerl the Young
The Citadel of Kuruth
The Ashen Empire




Phaerl shifted, she could use all the help she could get...

"I got a letter, from my home outside Isnhrion. Something is wrong."

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Woodstovia
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Posts: 8368
Founded: Nov 01, 2012
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Woodstovia » Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:07 pm

The guards looked down at the woman and then back to one another. She was finely dressed and obviously very rich, a far cry from the farmers who had been demanding passage earlier. The guards simply weren't used to people like her entering Atlas, not many nobles were willing to travel so far from the other places in the empire to meet someone like Earwulf. Thus they were wholly unprepared and opened the gates without even asking why she was there.

Quickly a small escort was formed, 2 guardsmen escorted her along, wearing great long spears which were almost as tall as pikes with large scutum shields. They were accompanied by one mounted sergeant who looked old and angry, a sour, bitter man. The city of Atlas was miserable, the rain and storms had driven most inside and those that were left greeted her with scowls and silence. It must have been a far cry from the cities of the Vale. Thankfully it was only a short ride up to the castle and Anora was soon entering the great hall.

It was apparent that Earwulf had no idea anyone was coming. He wasn't wearing his lordly clothing and fineries but a rather drab leather suit of clothes which he found more comfortable. He was talking to a large, well built man, showing him a knife caked if fresh blood. The sergeant cleared his throat and Earwulf spun around quickly, jamming the knife back into it's holster and hoping she hadn't seen anything. "Princess Anora Varian." the sergeant announced before wheeling away. Earwulf hastily dismissed the man he was talking to and bowed his head respectfully to Anora.

"Forgive me for not being suitably dressed. I wasn't expecting anyone. Certainly not in this weather at least." he smiled. "I just received word of your uncle's death. It saddens us all to hear of his passing, he was a noble man and a fine emperor. Do you want anything to drink?" he offered politely.

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Everhall
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Posts: 4137
Founded: Sep 23, 2014
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:13 pm

Anora Varian
Atlas, The Reach
Ashen Empire


Anora's eyes widened,

Ormoris is dead? He's really dead?

"He's dead?" said Anora devoid of any emotion, "I was on my way to the Ember Tower when this storm hit. I was to meet with my Uncle..."

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Woodstovia
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Posts: 8368
Founded: Nov 01, 2012
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Postby Woodstovia » Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:19 pm

So she didn't know? Earwulf nodded, feigning sadness "I'm sure this isn't the way you would've wanted to find out. I believe Ruven should be crowned soon so I suppose I'll be travelling to the Vale to renew my oaths." he smiled, ordering a servant to fetch him some wine. Earwulf took his seat at the lord's high chair, gazing down upon her. He was trying to read her, to find out what she thought of him "Now why are you here? If I may ask."

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Everhall
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Postby Everhall » Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:27 pm

A boom of thunder shook the building.

"Is there really anything to explain there? With that ravel occurring outside the doors at the very moment. That storm is a real obstacle... Now... Earwulf was your name, what is it that you do here? In Atlas."

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