NATION

PASSWORD

The Winter Gala [IC, Gwalethia Only]

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Aeternaea
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Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

The Winter Gala [IC, Gwalethia Only]

Postby Aeternaea » Sat Jan 13, 2018 4:39 pm

Sign-Up Thread Please register here before posting.

Guests please know that your characters will have already arrived at Yaqul'azraq, will have been greeted formally, and will have been granted accommodations within the Crystal Halls of the Palace of the Eternal Winter. Therefore, the guests will be arriving at the Gala for their first post. This is to introduce and present your character(s). The rp proper will start with the ball following the reception with a banquet, dances, and closing ceremony. These will give opportunities for intrigue, cultural exploration, and the creation of personal relations. If people wish to describe their journey, impressions, or views within their first post, they may.


P'ae'liu Aetae'Wi'Tae'Ne (Palace of the Eternal Winter), Yaquz'azraq, The Free-State of Lolede

It was a frigid and icy day in Yaquz'azraq, the middle of winter; the seas surrounding the city were mostly frozen over, glistening beautifully in the sun.

Many people were heading into the heated halls of the Palace, designed to bring warmth as the flames dance around in a beautiful light show. Merchant-Diplomats from across the Archduchy gathering, even the Governor-Nobles of the Free-State were present; representing the Eternal Heartlands as best as they could. Obviously absent were the Heartlanders, who were known to never attend Galas with outsiders. At the end of the Heated Halls, the guests would be greeted by the wonders of the Midnight Ballroom; a great platinum-domed marble building, rich with statues and carvings, the walls and ceiling frescoed, and the floor being a strange and beautiful mosaic of Lapis, platinum, and marble; with the centre of it reflecting the domed ceiling in a glistening mirror. The dome is lined with small paintings that allow the shining of the platinum when the light hits it just right, to look different based on where you're standing; however, the very centre of it holds a painting of the Archduke of the Eternal Throne, the honour and respect him. Anyone familiar with Aeternaean architecture would realise that this palace was based upon that of the Southern Isles. One could find the traditions and history of Aeternaea throughout the room; a sense of pride and respect in their history. Great limestone arches supported the room on all sides, with displays on them of the strengths of the nation; the Aeternaean Navy, the Aeternaean Army, the Aeternaean Economy, and most importantly the Eternal Throne of Aeternis. The windows were all of stained glass, with the starlight beaming through, dancing around in different and unique patterns.

In the back-centre of the room, one would find the hosts of the party gathered, looking upon the guests entering the room. Of those present, three stood out, their presence dominating the others;

Merchant-Diplomat, Great Lord Kae'Kar'Dea I vi Fy'Rho, Merchant-Prince of the 10 Families, Priest of the Eternal Throne, and Admiral of the Frozen Fleet. He stood in the centre of the trio, clothed in a blue tunic with silver threads woven through it to shine brilliantly in the light, black trousers with blue trimmings that were designed to fit perfectly for both comfort and efficiency, leather boots with a red-stained design with no sign of wear, and a jet-black cloak with the only distinguishing feature on it being that of a strange symbol. They all fit him perfectly as he stood calmly, showing no signs of any excitement. The colours meshed with his olive skin and long black hair, flowing to the top of his back -- a member of the Northern Provinces obviously. He also had brown irises with white sclerae. He gave the appearance of being the one in charge.
Image


Merchant-Diplomat, Sea Lord Ys'P'Qin IV vi Rho'Hae, Merchant-Prince of the 10 Families, and Master of the Ports. Standing to the immediate left of Kae'Kar'Dea, he wore a white tunic with red trimmings woven in odd patterns seeming more belonging on a sailor than a noble, matching trousers with the same odd patterns, brown boots with a white-stained design with some signs of wear, and a red cloak with the same strange symbol. Unlike his colleague, he seemed to be excited seeing all the guests show up and was actively trying to get a better view of those entering. Sharing the same olive complexion as Kae'Kar'Dea, he must have originated from the Northern Provinces as well. His hair, however, seemed to be of a dirty blond look; meaning that he was either a mixed-blood or foreigner that adopted the faith of the Eternal Throne. His eyes were light blue, blending with the scenery around him.
Image


and finally, the beautiful and young, Merchant-Diplomat, Purest Lady W'Zae'Ne I vi Bak'Dea, Merchant-Princess of the 10 Families, The Purest Star of Lolede, and the Trademaster of Lolede. She wore a beautiful dress modelled after that of the Eternal Princesses of Old. Flowing gently along the contours of her figure, with delicate ice patterns woven into the Tyrian purple material. Accenting her fair skin, and showing a gentle hint of cleavage and the bare of her back. Her shining silver hair, a symbol of the Heartlands, braided down the back in the middle, surrounded by straight flowing hair. Her hair shining in the starlight just added to the curiousness of her origins. Her eyes were of two different colours; the left was a violet colour with silver tinting, and the right was greenish with silver tinting. She stood with dignity like Kae'Kar'Dea, but showed signs of happiness and cheer on her visage.
Image


"Lord Ys'P'Qin." Called Kae'Kar'Dea, standing at attention.

"Yes, Lord Kae?" Responded Ys'P'Qin. "Ready for some fun?"

"Stand with more dignity, you are a representative of the Eternal Throne here. If you act in such a manner, you may be barred from your next journey to the throne." Said Kae'Kar'Dea coldly.

"Ah yes, of course... wouldn't want that, now would I?" Ys'P'Qin stated uncertainty.

"Also, address me properly. This is a formal environment, you will call me either Lord Kae'Kar'Dea, or Priest Rho'Hae. I leave it to your discretion."

"Of course... Lord Kae'Kar'Dea." said Ys'P'Qin sullenly.

At this, Kae'Kar'Dea turned towards him and analysed him for a few moments before turning towards W'Zae'Ne. "Lady W'Zae'Ne, your formal attitude is also in need of some minor improvements, however, it excels in comparison to Lord Ys'P'Qin."

"Oh? How flattering to be compared to such a gallant person." She responded. "However, dearest Priest... one must be reminded to enjoy themselves from time to time, one would not want to become known as the stone thrown into quicksand, now would they?"

"That is an excellent point, Lady W'Zae'Ne. One would not." Responded Kae'Kar'Dea, completely missing the point. "One must also remember that we are all representing the Eternal Throne..." He bowed his head at this moment before continuing, "We must demonstrate the greatness of our people and faith to these outsiders. We will have many honoured guests, and we have been authorised to record and present agreements and treaties to them, with the exception of holy decrees, border agreements, and Heartland accords."

"Oooh... interesting!" Interrupted Ys'P'Qin. "Quite a lot of freedom, no? Let's see what kind of fun we can have here!" He continued, waving his hand towards the crowd gathering below.

"Indeed... let's." Responded Kae'Kar'Dea, not allowing the interruption to get to him. "Lady W'Zae'Ne..."

"Yes, Lord Kae'Kar'Dea?" replied W'Zae'Ne.

"Would you be willing to do the honours of going below and greeting our esteemed guests? I believe a person such as you... a Heartlander... would be the best choice to be the formal hostess of this event."

"Oh! How generous of you, dearest Priest." She exclaimed with a smile on her face. "But are you not certain that you shouldn't go down? After all, this is your palace. Is it not?"

"Although that may be true, I am merely a servant of the Throne, a Merchant-Prince given the title. Unlike yourself." He bowed his head slightly.

"Ah, I understand. Say no more. I shall do my duty." She smiled.

"Your duty shall bring honour to the Eternal Throne." He returned to his former stance as W'Zae'Nae curtsied and walked towards the obsidian trimmed stairs, making it appear as if she were elegantly gliding down them, demonstrating nothing but pure beauty on her way down.

"I suppose it's time to let the show begin..." She whispered to herself with a grin.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Sat Jan 20, 2018 10:02 pm, edited 5 times in total.

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Seba Kemet
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Founded: May 11, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Seba Kemet » Sat Jan 13, 2018 6:29 pm

Merire held himself in check as he surveyed the Palace of Eternal Winter in all its barbaric splendor. What other term could one use to describe a location so cold? Barbarians or madmen, either way, it was the same. He was glad of the blessing of Ra secured in the torc he wore, the heavy gold reassuring on his shoulders. He had drawn stares from the sailors on the way, standing in the freezing open air, steam pouring from his skin as his personal weather mimicked a pleasant day along the Great Canal. He was otherwise an unremarkable man, of average height and build, although the life of an official had begun to manifest itself as a layer of fat at his stomach. His tanned skin, however, showed the calluses of a life at work, whether that was in the armies of Pharaoh or at a desk. The bleached white kilt he wore, folded in ornate patterns and tied with a knot in the shape of a palm frond at the front demonstrated his rank to those with the eye for such things, and his assurance that those who did not were not important enough to matter.

Walking with a steady assurance, Merire strode the length of the room, his coterie following. Most were men, attired in similar fashion to their leader, although some of the less forward thinking or financially able wore padded linen or fur cloaks instead of the magical torcs, all with intricate kohl markings under the eyes in the form of protective wards. The few women were colorfully dressed, though, wearing fine linen and far more jewlery, the black kohl augmented with green copper powder or finely ground lapis lazuli. The exceptions to the rule were the two Qedreti guards, mantis-like insectoids a little taller than a man, both of whom Merire could discern were quite miserable in the chill environment, both from their slow movement and the faint (to a human) scent they produced, a smell not entirely unlike pomegranate flowers. The other exception stood at his side, or slithered, rather. The Iarrt looked like a three foot diameter ball of writhing vines, out of which protruded several stalks bearing eye-like organs, through which they saw more or less the same as a human. Sewa-hes was a reliable companion in the voyage, and while he had no visible mouth, his sense of humor and endless stories had kept the voyage interesting.

Merire halted before the obvious hosts of party, clasping a hand to his chest in formal greeting, extending in his other hand a sheet of papyrus bearing his formal credentials, although it was likely that only a few in the room would be able to read the finely inked glyphs of the Sacred Writing. The document was still an impressive feat of calligraphy, the symbols flowing into something akin to a small and highly ornate landscape, rather than something as base as mere writing. Two other copies, one written in the more common and practical scribal script, the other in the local court language, had been presented earlier in less formal circumstances.

"May peace be on all the lands of Aeternia, and Ra's bright light never fail to shine upon the face of the king." Merire spoke in Redi-ret trade cant, again assuming that any merchant worthy of talking to would know the language of trade, "I am Merire, I come as Djehuty bearing words wisdom and enlightenment, the messenger of Pharaoh Ma'atkare, Son of Ra, Beloved of the Two Ladies, Master of Deshkhet, Who Treads Upon the Nine Bows, Fertile and Enduring in All Things. It is his wish to convey to you his greeting and blessings, and to bestow upon the lord of Aeternia and his court these gifts." With an elegant and practice step, Merire stood to the side and gestured a few of his retinue forward, bearing ornate glass fronted cabinets of gilded wood, each with glass fronts of bright colors, etched into wings and inlaid with gold wire.

"My king's desire to see that none of those present should go wanting is such that he has commissioned these models of his gifts, which have been directed to the court's seneschal, for those present." Merire went on, with another gesture causing the cabinets to be opened so that their contents could be viewed clearly. Each contained an assortment of models in exquisite detail, chariots and bows in fine gold, swords inscribed with glyphs of power, exquisitely carved furniture of ebony and cyprus, doll-sized dresses of elegant linen, as fine as silk in brilliant colors, polished mirrors, tiny bowls of various magical charms, and several bowls of what, at first, appeared to be gold dust, although closer inspection would reveal thousands of tiny gold coins, each a perfect replication of a golden deben. The central cabinet held itself a stack of wooden tablets, themselves painted and inlaid in a style similar to that of the formal credentials Merire hand presented. This, Merire knew, was what would truly start mouths watering among the merchants.

"Pharaoh hopes that perhaps the children of the court will be pleased by these trifles, but hopes that they will be of utility in deciding how to divide his gifts, for he knows little of the court of this distant land." He stepped aside and picked up one of the tablets, "And, of course, Pharaoh, who is eternal and generous, is happy to provide for every noble here a document of free passage through the Great Canal, should they ever make it so far east. He hopes this humble gift will bring prosperity to your houses." Merire deadpanned the last sentence. He, and everybody else present, knew full well that each of those tablets was worth a trunk of silver. Merchants had grumbled about the tithe demanded by the rulers of Deshkhet for millenia, and any chance to bypass them was a prize many would slit a brother's throat for.

Suppressing the urge to wink, Merire gave a shallow bow, finishing his introduction.

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Brentonania
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Founded: Mar 05, 2010
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Brentonania » Sat Jan 13, 2018 10:34 pm

At the end of the heated halls stands Emperor Brenton XVI marveling at the ballroom from a distance while his chamberlain and translator Jacques Aubert makes some quick adjustments to the emperors outfit.
Emperor Brenton is a fair skinned man with short dark brown hair styled to the right with a natural curl on the same side just above the forehead that he must occasional readjust and blue eyes that could easily pass for green from a distance. The Emperor is dressed in a sleeved forest green doublet with gold embroidery along the neck and shoulders. The embroidery also decorates around the three golden buttons along each sleeve and the 6 golden buttons going down the center of the doublet. The doublet is well complemented by the black tunic underneath and white gloves. The emperor is also wearing white breeches with gold trimmings as well as black leather boots that end 7 inches below the knee.

“Your Majesty I must request that you stay still for just a moment longer.” Says Aubert while attempting to remove all visible wrinkles from the emperor's clothes.

“Must you insist on adjusting my outfit like a mother does her child.” Says Brenton visibly bored from his chamberlains constant pestering.

Jacques Aubert is an older gentleman with pale skin, short graying black hair (styled just enough to hide his receding hairline), pale blue eyes with crows feet and wrinkles along his forehead. Aubert is wearing an outfit similar to the emperor with a few variations. Auberts doublet is sleeveless without embroidery but has gold trimming along the shoulders, separating the doublet and the tunic. The doublet also has a silver leaf sewn onto the left breast.

“LIke a mother I wish for his grace to look presentable to all those that will gaze upon him.” States Aubert with a smirk. “There now you look the part of the noble foreign king.”

“Noble foreign emperor.” Corrects Brenton with a haughty tone. He then walks in the center of the ballroom gazing in awe at the beauty throughout. “Besides who knows perhaps one day these people may just know me as their emperor.”

Aubert looks around uncomfortable hoping know one nearby can understand what the emperor said. “Forgive me your majesty but perhaps we could save such talk for when we are away from foreign dignitaries?”

Brenton looks at Aubert with some confusion and then his face lights up in sudden realization. “Yes I do believe you’re correct Aubert.” He gazes around more while slowing walking back to his chamberlain. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the evening with such unpleasantries.” He stops and looks at a group of Aeternean nobles chatting away in their native tongue. “Aubert” He whispers. “Those people over there, what are they saying?”

Aubert listens to the group attentively and gives the emperor a quick summary. “The two gentlemen are reminiscing on a hunting trip whilst their wives complement each others attire.”

Brenton becomes visibly angered by the conversation. “They speak of something so common and I cannot understand a single word.” Aubert looks at Brenton earnestly hoping to comfort him. “No matter once we return home you can mentor me to speak in their language.” Says Brenton in a sanguineous tone.

“Of course your grace.” Says Aubert and bows his head slightly. “I would be honored.”

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Aeternaea
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Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Sun Jan 14, 2018 12:11 am

Seba Kemet wrote:Merire held himself in check as he surveyed the Palace of Eternal Winter in all its barbaric splendor. What other term could one use to describe a location so cold? Barbarians or madmen, either way, it was the same. He was glad of the blessing of Ra secured in the torc he wore, the heavy gold reassuring on his shoulders. He had drawn stares from the sailors on the way, standing in the freezing open air, steam pouring from his skin as his personal weather mimicked a pleasant day along the Great Canal. He was otherwise an unremarkable man, of average height and build, although the life of an official had begun to manifest itself as a layer of fat at his stomach. His tanned skin, however, showed the calluses of a life at work, whether that was in the armies of Pharaoh or at a desk. The bleached white kilt he wore, folded in ornate patterns and tied with a knot in the shape of a palm frond at the front demonstrated his rank to those with the eye for such things, and his assurance that those who did not were not important enough to matter.

Walking with a steady assurance, Merire strode the length of the room, his coterie following. Most were men, attired in similar fashion to their leader, although some of the less forward thinking or financially able wore padded linen or fur cloaks instead of the magical torcs, all with intricate kohl markings under the eyes in the form of protective wards. The few women were colorfully dressed, though, wearing fine linen and far more jewlery, the black kohl augmented with green copper powder or finely ground lapis lazuli. The exceptions to the rule were the two Qedreti guards, mantis-like insectoids a little taller than a man, both of whom Merire could discern were quite miserable in the chill environment, both from their slow movement and the faint (to a human) scent they produced, a smell not entirely unlike pomegranate flowers. The other exception stood at his side, or slithered, rather. The Iarrt looked like a three foot diameter ball of writhing vines, out of which protruded several stalks bearing eye-like organs, through which they saw more or less the same as a human. Sewa-hes was a reliable companion in the voyage, and while he had no visible mouth, his sense of humor and endless stories had kept the voyage interesting.

Merire halted before the obvious hosts of party, clasping a hand to his chest in formal greeting, extending in his other hand a sheet of papyrus bearing his formal credentials, although it was likely that only a few in the room would be able to read the finely inked glyphs of the Sacred Writing. The document was still an impressive feat of calligraphy, the symbols flowing into something akin to a small and highly ornate landscape, rather than something as base as mere writing. Two other copies, one written in the more common and practical scribal script, the other in the local court language, had been presented earlier in less formal circumstances.

"May peace be on all the lands of Aeternia, and Ra's bright light never fail to shine upon the face of the king." Merire spoke in Redi-ret trade cant, again assuming that any merchant worthy of talking to would know the language of trade, "I am Merire, I come as Djehuty bearing words wisdom and enlightenment, the messenger of Pharaoh Ma'atkare, Son of Ra, Beloved of the Two Ladies, Master of Deshkhet, Who Treads Upon the Nine Bows, Fertile and Enduring in All Things. It is his wish to convey to you his greeting and blessings, and to bestow upon the lord of Aeternia and his court these gifts." With an elegant and practice step, Merire stood to the side and gestured a few of his retinue forward, bearing ornate glass fronted cabinets of gilded wood, each with glass fronts of bright colors, etched into wings and inlaid with gold wire.

"My king's desire to see that none of those present should go wanting is such that he has commissioned these models of his gifts, which have been directed to the court's seneschal, for those present." Merire went on, with another gesture causing the cabinets to be opened so that their contents could be viewed clearly. Each contained an assortment of models in exquisite detail, chariots and bows in fine gold, swords inscribed with glyphs of power, exquisitely carved furniture of ebony and cyprus, doll-sized dresses of elegant linen, as fine as silk in brilliant colors, polished mirrors, tiny bowls of various magical charms, and several bowls of what, at first, appeared to be gold dust, although closer inspection would reveal thousands of tiny gold coins, each a perfect replication of a golden deben. The central cabinet held itself a stack of wooden tablets, themselves painted and inlaid in a style similar to that of the formal credentials Merire hand presented. This, Merire knew, was what would truly start mouths watering among the merchants.

"Pharaoh hopes that perhaps the children of the court will be pleased by these trifles, but hopes that they will be of utility in deciding how to divide his gifts, for he knows little of the court of this distant land." He stepped aside and picked up one of the tablets, "And, of course, Pharaoh, who is eternal and generous, is happy to provide for every noble here a document of free passage through the Great Canal, should they ever make it so far east. He hopes this humble gift will bring prosperity to your houses." Merire deadpanned the last sentence. He, and everybody else present, knew full well that each of those tablets was worth a trunk of silver. Merchants had grumbled about the tithe demanded by the rulers of Deshkhet for millenia, and any chance to bypass them was a prize many would slit a brother's throat for.

Suppressing the urge to wink, Merire gave a shallow bow, finishing his introduction.


Lady W'Zae'Nae approaches the dignitaries from Seba Kemet and curtsies before them, smiling softly before saying, "Welcome esteemed guest, I am Lady W'Zae'Nae I vi Bak'Dea. I wish to say that we greatly appreciate your marvellous gifts. They are truly wonders to behold!" she waves her hand in a grandiose gesture. "As a thank you for your coming here, and for your truly magnificent gesture, we would like to present you with a collection of tomes and histories from across Aeternaea, rare to be found outside of the Heartlands." She smiles as the collection is being carried towards their lodgings, making a point to show everyone around the vastness of the collection. "In addition to these, we would also like to gift you with a ceremonial sword." She claps her hands together as a dark-robed person, whose visage is covered with an ornate mask kneels, presenting a glass case with a sword within it. "This sword is known as Gloust'Aeii; I believe it would translate to... The Eternal Rebuke? Forgive me, the high dialect of our language has many words that do not translate properly."

The sword itself is a steel sword with waves flowing through it, intricate patterns that seem too artistic for any person to have done naturally. Trimmed in pure silver, with engravings along the centre of it. The engravings are in a language that does not seem to be able to be translated properly. The hilt is made from a coal-black substance, yet it shines as if it were gold. The pommel of the blade being made from pure platinum, a symbol of the Eternal Throne.

She allows the guests to examine the blade for a while before speaking with a gleeful tone, "We hope that you, a traveller from the far east will appreciate these gifts. To accommodate your changing settings, we've ensured that the northernmost portion of this room is to be heated to the temperature you are accustomed to. In addition, may we say that we hope that the Eternal Throne in the Heartlands be ever pleased. We sincerely hope that you enjoy your time, if you need anything at all, please do not hesitate whatsoever to approach me, or any of my colleagues." She curtsies again before excusing herself to approach the next batch of approaching guests.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Thu Jan 18, 2018 7:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Aeternaea
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Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Sun Jan 14, 2018 12:25 am

Brentonania wrote:At the end of the heated halls stands Emperor Brenton XVI marveling at the ballroom from a distance while his chamberlain and translator Jacques Aubert makes some quick adjustments to the emperors outfit.
Emperor Brenton is a fair skinned man with short dark brown hair styled to the right with a natural curl on the same side just above the forehead that he must occasional readjust and blue eyes that could easily pass for green from a distance. The Emperor is dressed in a sleeved forest green doublet with gold embroidery along the neck and shoulders. The embroidery also decorates around the three golden buttons along each sleeve and the 6 golden buttons going down the center of the doublet. The doublet is well complemented by the black tunic underneath and white gloves. The emperor is also wearing white breeches with gold trimmings as well as black leather boots that end 7 inches below the knee.

“Your Majesty I must request that you stay still for just a moment longer.” Says Aubert while attempting to remove all visible wrinkles from the emperor's clothes.

“Must you insist on adjusting my outfit like a mother does her child.” Says Brenton visibly bored from his chamberlains constant pestering.

Jacques Aubert is an older gentleman with pale skin, short graying black hair (styled just enough to hide his receding hairline), pale blue eyes with crows feet and wrinkles along his forehead. Aubert is wearing an outfit similar to the emperor with a few variations. Auberts doublet is sleeveless without embroidery but has gold trimming along the shoulders, separating the doublet and the tunic. The doublet also has a silver leaf sewn onto the left breast.

“LIke a mother I wish for his grace to look presentable to all those that will gaze upon him.” States Aubert with a smirk. “There now you look the part of the noble foreign king.”

“Noble foreign emperor.” Corrects Brenton with a haughty tone. He then walks in the center of the ballroom gazing in awe at the beauty throughout. “Besides who knows perhaps one day these people may just know me as their emperor.”

Aubert looks around uncomfortable hoping know one nearby can understand what the emperor said. “Forgive me your majesty but perhaps we could save such talk for when we are away from foreign dignitaries?”

Brenton looks at Aubert with some confusion and then his face lights up in sudden realization. “Yes I do believe you’re correct Aubert.” He gazes around more while slowing walking back to his chamberlain. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the evening with such unpleasantries.” He stops and looks at a group of Aeternean nobles chatting away in their native tongue. “Aubert” He whispers. “Those people over there, what are they saying?”

Aubert listens to the group attentively and gives the emperor a quick summary. “The two gentlemen are reminiscing on a hunting trip whilst their wives complement each others attire.”

Brenton becomes visibly angered by the conversation. “They speak of something so common and I cannot understand a single word.” Aubert looks at Brenton earnestly hoping to comfort him. “No matter once we return home you can mentor me to speak in their language.” Says Brenton in a sanguineous tone.

“Of course your grace.” Says Aubert and bows his head slightly. “I would be honored.”


Lady W'Zae'Nae approaches the dignitaries from Brentonania and curtsies before them, getting back up with a radiant smile as she adjusts her hair. "Greetings Emperor from the East, I hope your journey here went well?" She has an innocent, yet playful smile on her face. "We would like to first apologise for the bitter cold outside, but can guarantee that you will find nothing but warmth and comforts in here." She waves towards the room showing all the luxuries, foods, drinks, and activities being done around here. "May the Eternal Throne ever provide you with comfort. On that note, we would like to present you with a gift for your graciousness of showing up."

She moves to the side gracefully to allow for two men, who would otherwise be unknown to carry in a cage covered with a sheet. She reaches over it and pulls it off to reveal two birds; one with red feathers and jet-black eyes, and the other with jet-black feathers and red eyes. "I would like to present you with a holy bird from the Heartlands. These are Aetae'ii'Rho'Vas, otherwise known as Aeternaean Blood Ravens. They carry the blood of the heartlands wherever they go." She steps back to allow for the dignitaries to examine to birds. "There exists less than a hundred of these birds outside of the Heartlands. Of these hundred, less than ten have ever been in the hands of someone who does not follow the Eternal Throne. We hope that this gesture is to your liking?" She looks towards the Emperor with her different coloured eyes, a full smile, and an elegant figure.

After a while, she then gets back to a more formal pose and states, "In addition to these, we would like to grant you with a rare artifact from the Eternal Companions of the Throne." She allows more people to present the Emperor with a small box. "Inside this box exists one of the first symbols of our great nation. A pure platinum emblem symbolising the oldest of our symbols; a feather flowing on a river that forms a shield." She places her hand on the box to open it for the Emperor before continuing, "valued not only for the fact that it is made of pure platinum, a holy metal, and ancient history, but also due to the fact that it is ancient and most of the Eternal Companions artifacts are in possession of their families, or the Eternal Throne itself." She steps back and curtsies once more. "But alas, I'm afraid I must be going to greet the next dignitaries. We hope that you enjoy your time, and if you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask." She tilts her head with a smile before gracefully walking off.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Thu Jan 18, 2018 7:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Kabryon
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Posts: 4
Founded: Jan 13, 2018
Corporate Police State

Postby Kabryon » Mon Jan 15, 2018 8:41 am

Valtteri walked briskly through the falling snow, holding his fur cloak close to his face. The bitter wind cut through his clothing, stealing away the warmth let down by the sun only an hour earlier. He glanced to his adviser, who accompanied him to this "gala" in Lolede. "Miksi meidän on käytettävä näitä hyödyttömiä diplomaattisia menettelyjä, kun voimme yksinkertaisesti pitää itsemme?" His adviser chuckled, amused by the brash nature of the noble he was assigned to follow. Valterri Saarinen of Kabrys was one of Duke Jarvi's cousins, part of the second most powerful family in Kabryon. In what seemed like arbitrary lot-drawing, he had been stuck with the task of pandering to these foreign fools, when he could be back home engaging in his monthly fox hunt, or leading an army to a neighboring enemy. He stared up at the objectively impressive palace before him. He gave credit where it was due, and these nobles knew showmanship. He adjusted his cloak, as well as making sure the coat of arms on his tunic was visible from underneath it.

The pair passed through the main doors and the vestibule, entering a grand hall of sorts. A congregating group of nobles and merchants were spread across the hall, discussing matters of trade and daily lives. "I expected nobility, not commoners and merchants from wall to wall." He adjusted the blade on his hip, and straightened the necklace bearing his family emblem. Ignoring many of the guests at this frankly underwhelming party, Valterri approached the three most well dressed in the room, assuming them to be the hosts of this gathering.

They halted their conversation with each other as he approached, looking his way as he gave a nod of greeting. "Greetings," he spoke in the common language. "I am known as Valterri of Kabrys, and am honered" He spoke that word with some difficulty. "to find myself in the presence of such wonderful hosts, as well as to find myself in such a magnificent palace." He bowed low in greeting to them. "May the light of Tehovii be upon this land, and may it know prosperity and glory in the ages to come." He gazed over to his partner. "Uskotko tätä?" He chuckled and returned his attention to the three in front of him. "It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance."

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Aeternaea
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Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Mon Jan 15, 2018 9:18 am

Kabryon wrote:Valtteri walked briskly through the falling snow, holding his fur cloak close to his face. The bitter wind cut through his clothing, stealing away the warmth let down by the sun only an hour earlier. He glanced to his adviser, who accompanied him to this "gala" in Lolede. "Miksi meidän on käytettävä näitä hyödyttömiä diplomaattisia menettelyjä, kun voimme yksinkertaisesti pitää itsemme?" His adviser chuckled, amused by the brash nature of the noble he was assigned to follow. Valterri Saarinen of Kabrys was one of Duke Jarvi's cousins, part of the second most powerful family in Kabryon. In what seemed like arbitrary lot-drawing, he had been stuck with the task of pandering to these foreign fools, when he could be back home engaging in his monthly fox hunt, or leading an army to a neighboring enemy. He stared up at the objectively impressive palace before him. He gave credit where it was due, and these nobles knew showmanship. He adjusted his cloak, as well as making sure the coat of arms on his tunic was visible from underneath it.

The pair passed through the main doors and the vestibule, entering a grand hall of sorts. A congregating group of nobles and merchants were spread across the hall, discussing matters of trade and daily lives. "I expected nobility, not commoners and merchants from wall to wall." He adjusted the blade on his hip, and straightened the necklace bearing his family emblem. Ignoring many of the guests at this frankly underwhelming party, Valterri approached the three most well dressed in the room, assuming them to be the hosts of this gathering.

They halted their conversation with each other as he approached, looking his way as he gave a nod of greeting. "Greetings," he spoke in the common language. "I am known as Valterri of Kabrys, and am honered" He spoke that word with some difficulty. "to find myself in the presence of such wonderful hosts, as well as to find myself in such a magnificent palace." He bowed low in greeting to them. "May the light of Tehovii be upon this land, and may it know prosperity and glory in the ages to come." He gazed over to his partner. "Uskotko tätä?" He chuckled and returned his attention to the three in front of him. "It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance."


Lady W'Zae'Nae approaches the guests from Kabryon and curtsies before them with a bright smile upon her face. "Greetings honoured guests! We are truly glad to have you here." She says cheerily. "We hope that our humble abode is to your delight, it is a pale imitation of the Holy City back home, but we excel in service." She makes a grand gesture with her hands at this statement. After a few moments she steps to the side and waves her hand towards an approaching group of workers carrying some stuff. "I'd like to present you, honoured guests, with two gifts; the first being a replica of the Holy Flagship of the Heartlands, The Aeternis. It is made from only the finest materials, by the third son of the Archduke. It is truly one of a kind and is valued very highly!" She allows the guests to examine it before continuing, "In addition to this humble gift, we also wish to present you with several figurines made out of marble, platinum, and silver. They all come from the great Heartlands."

After presenting the gifts, she curtsies once more with an ever satisfied expression; all the while being graceful and polite. "We hope that you do enjoy this Gala, and that the Eternal Throne may bless this occasion and future ones. Now, why not warm yourself up by a fire and enjoy the festivities? If you have any requests, please let me or my colleagues know! Have a pleasant evening." She excuses herself afterwards, so that she may attend to the next batch of guests.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Thu Jan 18, 2018 7:23 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Mokranshi
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Posts: 24
Founded: Jul 30, 2017
New York Times Democracy

Postby Mokranshi » Tue Jan 16, 2018 12:45 pm

Shaman Obur Khagan and his party marched their way through the snow to the halls of the Palace of the Eternal Winter. The cold and frigidity invigorated him and his companions, who all had a brisk spring in their step as they made their way to the opulent hall. It's a shame the warmbloods can't quite appreciate the weather the same way, Obur thought to himself. In comparison to his companions, the various foreigners ranged from mildly uncomfortable to downright miserable. Speaking of which, there were all manner of beings spread throughout the area, to his intrigue. The Shaman himself was a middle-aged human. The wrinkles of age had only begun to mark his bearded face. His pale blue skin was covered by a dark leather cloak with a fur trim and framed by a ox-fur mantle, held in the front by an intricately carved bone mantle. The coat itself was covered in subtle markings denoting his status as a Shaman. His long, white hair hosted two white, preened feathers that hung neatly. His thin leather boots crunched the snow beneath him. His attire perhaps wasn't quite as opulent as those of the other warmbloods in attendence, but it was fancy enough by Mokrani standards. He was about as tall and built as any human, which put him in stark contrast to the towering beastman on his left.

The beastman, whose name in Beast-tongue was impossible to pronounce for humans but roughly translated to 'Skullfinder', was an imposing sight. The beastman stood at least two heads taller than most humans, a great height even by his own kind's standards. His body was coated in gray fur, discouraging the need or ability to cover himself in clothing. Still, the occasion demanded propriety, so he had fastened a number of walrus bones across his body in a pattern similar to that of human armor. Two large skulls were fastened neatly to his shoulders so that the tusks would not harm any passersby. His head was framed by two large curved horns that were a solid white as well as a mane that coated his neck down to his collar. Both this and his fur were neatly combed, at least to the degree that you can comb a beastman's hide. His icy hooves pounded the ground beneath him as he looked around at the other guests in attendance. Skullfinder has been assigned as the acting bodyguard for Shaman Obur. He snorted something in Beast-tongue to his compatriots, 'Have you seen the creatures here? Some gaudy dirt-skinned human was followed by smelly bug-men and something else I've never seen before. Looks like giant demon-moss. And to think the warmbloods balk at me?' It was the man on Obur's right that responded.

A young man by the name of Talak Morgran-og spoke to Skullfinder in Beast-tongue, 'Be careful what you say, Skullfinder. Humans may not be able to speak Beast-tongue, but there's nothing that says that they don't understand it.' The beastman snorted. Always the diplomat, huh, Skullfinder? Talak thought to himself. Of course, the job of diplomacy was left to him. As a human-beastman hybrid (the Winterborn condition seemed to break all biological boundaries), he had no trouble speaking either human languages or Beast-tongue, and being quite the learned man for his age, he was also able to act as a translator for his companions. Talak was a faun, with the legs and horns of a beastman and the upper body and face of a human, and a handsome one at that. Well, as handsome as one with beastman blood could be. His pale blue skin shimmered as the snow fell. He was draped in a fur cape and wore a woolen robe dyed a mossy green. Two short off-white horns sprouted from his forehead and curled upwards. They were painted with intricate blue swirls. His long white hair was braided into several tails. Two crow feathers hung from his pierced ears. His bare hooves clopped against the ground. He was unusually lithe compared to his elder companions.

Together, the three of them made their way through the cold and towards the grand looking palace. Obur turned to Talak and gestured at the area around them. 'You see, boy? Even this far south, Mulcarn watches over his own.' Talak responded, 'Yes, mighty Shaman. Mulcarn is good.' Unfortunately, He wasn't good enough to protect us everywhere, he thought. On their voyage to Lolede, their ship passed through the tropics. The sun was particularly oppressive then, and three crewmen fell into comas from the heat before they made it back into cooler waters. They found themselves in the opulent Midnight Ballroom, with its countless frescoes and statues and stained glass windows decorating the halls. It was truly a marvel to behold. Unfortunately, the three Winterborn were unable to appreciate the sight before them, as the heat emanating from the many braziers assailed their senses immediately. Talak recoiled and shielded himself while letting out a short involuntary bray before regaining his composure, to his embarrassment. Obur noticeably paused before continuing his pace, determined to make a good impression, though he briefly checked his winter wards to make sure they were functional. Skullfinder, being the most disciplined among them, gave very little indication of his discomfort, though there was a very slight change in his stride.

Composing themselves, the trio marched before a particularly extravagantly dressed Aeternaean who was moving about the hall and greeting the many foreigners. As the official representative of Mokranshi, Obur spoke first. He bowed before the woman and gave a lengthy greeting in Mokrani while Talak translated to the best of his ability. 'Greetings to you, fair maiden. May Mulcarn protect you and may his benevolence be unending. I am Shaman Obur. I speak on behalf of Farseer Resak, lord of Mokranshi and chosen of Mulcarn, may his winters be unending. The blessed Farseer bids you good fortune and The Frozen One's blessings, may his snow fall forever.'

He then gestured towards Skullfinder, who snorted and drew a small boneforged chest. 'My loyal guard, Skullfinder, presents you with a gift on behalf of the blessed Farseer, to repay you for your generous hospitality.' With a quick flick, the beastman undid the latches and revealed a glimmering crystalline spear with an elegantly carved bone grip. 'This is an icespear of superior make. It was forged by the greatest weaponmasters of Kotan Kane and imbued by the Shamans with Mulcarn's blessing, may His icy heart beat forever. The point is forged from enchanted ice, and the grip is made of the bones of a mighty cave bear. The blessed Farseer prays this gift is of sufficient worth to repay the Throne for its generosity.' All three of the Winterborn then bowed before the warmblood woman.
Last edited by Mokranshi on Wed Jan 17, 2018 1:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Aeternaea
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Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Wed Jan 17, 2018 1:22 pm

Mokranshi wrote:Shaman Obur Khagan and his party marched their way through the snow to the halls of the Palace of the Eternal Winter. The cold and frigidity invigorated him and his companions, who all had a brisk spring in their step as they made their way to the opulent hall. It's a shame the warmbloods can't quite appreciate the weather the same way, Ogur thought to himself. In comparison to his companions, the various foreigners ranged from mildly uncomfortable to downright miserable. Speaking of which, there were all manner of beings spread throughout the area, to his intrigue. The Shaman himself was a middle-aged human. The wrinkles of age had only begun to mark his bearded face. His pale blue skin was covered by a dark leather cloak with a fur trim and framed by a ox-fur mantle, held in the front by an intricately carved bone mantle. The coat itself was covered in subtle markings denoting his status as a Shaman. His long, white hair hosted two white, preened feathers that hung neatly. His thin leather boots crunched the snow beneath him. His attire perhaps wasn't quite as opulent as those of the other warmbloods in attendence, but it was fancy enough by Mokrani standards. He was about as tall and built as any human, which put him in stark contrast to the towering beastman on his left.

The beastman, whose name in Beast-tongue was impossible to pronounce for humans but roughly translated to 'Skullfinder', was an imposing sight. The beastman stood at least two heads taller than most humans, a great height even by his own kind's standards. His body was coated in gray fur, discouraging the need or ability to cover himself in clothing. Still, the occasion demanded propriety, so he had fasted a number of walrus bones across his body in a pattern similar to that of human armor. Two large skulls were fastened neatly to his shoulders so that the tusks would not harm any passersby. His head was framed by two large curved horns that were a solid white as well as a mane that coated his neck down to his collar. Both this and his fur were neatly combed, at least to the degree that you can comb a beastman's hide. His icy hooves pounded the ground beneath him as he looked around at the other guests in attendance. Skullfinder has been assigned as the acting bodyguard for Shaman Obur. He snorted something in Beast-tongue to his compatriots, 'Have you seen the creatures here? Some gaudy dirt-skinned human was followed by smelly bug-men and something else I've never seen before. Looks like giant demon-moss. And to think the warmbloods balk at me?' It was the man on Obur's right that responded.

A young man by the name of Talak Morgran-og spoke to Skullfinder in Beast-tongue, 'Be careful what you say, Skullfinder. Humans may not be able to speak Beast-tongue, but there's nothing that says that they don't understand it.' The beastman snorted. Always the diplomat, huh, Skullfinder? Talak thought to himself. Of course, the job of diplomacy was left to him. As a human-beastman hybrid (the Winterborn condition seemed to break all biological boundaries), he had no trouble speaking either human languages or Beast-tongue, and being quite the learned man for his age, he was also able to act as a translator for his companions. Talak was a faun, with the legs and horns of a beastman and the upper body and face of a human, and a handsome one at that. Well, as handsome as one with beastman blood could be. His pale blue skin shimmered as the snow fell. He was draped in a fur cape and wore a woolen robe dyed a mossy green. Two short off-white horns sprouted from his forehead and curled upwards. They were painted with intricate blue swirls. His long white hair was braided into several tails. Two crow feathers hung from his pierced ears. His bare hooves clopped against the ground. He was unusually lithe compared to his elder companions.

Together, the three of them made their way through the cold and towards the grand looking palace. Ogur turned to Talak and gestured at the area around them. 'You see, boy? Even this far south, Mulcarn watches over his own.' Talak responded, 'Yes, mighty Shaman. Mulcarn is good.' Unfortunately, He wasn't good enough to protect us everywhere, he thought. On their voyage to Lolede, their ship passed through the tropics. The sun was particularly oppressive then, and three crewmen fell into comas from the heat before they made it back into cooler waters. They found themselves in the opulent Midnight Ballroom, with its countless frescoes and statues and stained glass windows decorating the halls. It was truly a marvel to behold. Unfortunately, the three Winterborn were unable to appreciate the sight before them, as the heat emanating from the many braziers assailed their senses immediately. Talak recoiled and shielded himself while letting out a short involuntary bray before regaining his composure, to his embarrassment. Ogur noticeably paused before continuing his pace, determined to make a good impression, though he briefly checked his winter wards to make sure they were functional. Skullfinder, being the most disciplined among them, gave very little indication of his discomfort, though there was a very slight change in his stride.

Composing themselves, the trio marched before a particularly extravagantly dressed Aeternaean who was moving about the hall and greeting the many foreigners. As the official representative of Mokranshi, Ogur spoke first. He bowed before the woman and gave a lengthy greeting in Mokrani while Talak translated to the best of his ability. 'Greetings to you, fair maiden. May Mulcarn protect you and may his benevolence be unending. I am Shaman Ogur. I speak on behalf of Farseer Resak, lord of Mokranshi and chosen of Mulcarn, may his winters be unending. The blessed Farseer bids you good fortune and The Frozen One's blessings, may his snow fall forever.'

He then gestured towards Skullfinder, who snorted and drew a small boneforged chest. 'My loyal guard, Skullfinder, presents you with a gift on behalf of the blessed Farseer, to repay you for your generous hospitality.' With a quick flick, the beastman undid the latches and revealed a glimmering crystalline spear with an elegantly carved bone grip. 'This is an icespear of superior make. It was forged by the greatest weaponmasters of Kotan Kane and imbued by the Shamans with Mulcarn's blessing, may His icy heart beat forever. The point is forged from enchanted ice, and the grip is made of the bones of a mighty cave bear. The blessed Farseer prays this gift is of sufficient worth to repay the Throne for its generosity.' All three of the Winterborn then bowed before the warmblood woman.


Lady W'Zae'Nae curtsies before meeting the esteemed guests from Mokranshi. Upon hearing the Shaman's greeting, and upon his presentation of his gift, she responds humbly, "Great guests from the north, we are gracious for such a valued gift. We will treasure it dearly, and send it to the Eternal Throne itself as a memento of your generosity." She gracefully turns to the side to wave towards an approaching entourage holding two gifts. "As you can tell, these are gifts for you and your entourage. The first being a necklace made of pure platinum; forged within the Eternal Palace itself, by the third prince. Each chain in the link represents a different part of the Throne's history." She allows the box holding it to be handed over to the Shaman. "The second being a painting of the frozen wastes, with the outline of Yaqul'Azraq, the capital of Lolede, being a mere shadow in the winter storm... as you can see yourself." She gestures towards the painting. "This item is from the collection of the ten families, never before granted to anyone outside of the Heartlands... we do sincerely hope that you like these."

Upon the gifts being handed over and inspected, then summarily brought to a secure location to be held until the guests desire them, or to leave, Lady W'Zae'Nae leans in slightly, just enough so that the sentence would not be overheard, so as to not undermine anything, so that she may whisper a bit, "Also, if it pleases you... we have setup special accommodations for your friends. Down the western halls you will find a location whose temperature is cold enough to invigorate them. I expect that there would be not many there who would not be able to withstand it too long. We call it the Sculptured Lodge, as the entirety of it -- barring the walls themselves -- have been sculpted from ice." She leans back and goes back to her regular tone. "We hope that everything will be to your liking. Should you need anything whatsoever, please do not hesitate to ask." She curtsies once more before moving onto the next delegates.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Thu Jan 18, 2018 7:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Sannerby-Annestad
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Posts: 15
Founded: Aug 31, 2017
Free-Market Paradise

Postby Sannerby-Annestad » Thu Jan 18, 2018 2:42 pm

Alvar Nykvist stood on the deck of the Spindel, one of many ships in Sannerby-Annestad's fleet of merchant vessels. He had sailed across the sea for months to get there, encountering hazards many would perish in, but he was a Sannerlander. It was in his blood. No matter what, nobody could take the city state's nautical prowess away from them. They had a trade empire rivaling all others, spanning much of the world. There seemed to be no place on Gwalethia their empire didn't reach, apart from one exception. The isolationist empire of Aeternaea. However, that was where he was sailing now.

It seemed a lifetime ago when his cousin, Sven Grahn, Hertig of This Most Serene Republic of Sannerby-Annestad, had invited him to the Palace of the Hertigar to give him a mission. This mission was to sail the seas of Gwalethia to get to the Free State of Lolede, the only area of Aeternaea foreigners were allowed in, and attend a gala to talk to Aeternaean government officials about trading rights of the Republic. If he succeeded, Sven Grahn would ordain him and his family into the city's noble class, a status reserved for only the most privileged in Sannerby-Annestader society. Out of the Republic's 120 thousand residents, only three hundred of them were considered nobility. If he failed, he would surely be executed in whatever sadistic manner the Lagting thought of next. Just because his father's sister happened to marry into the nobility and have a son who happened to become one of the Hertigar at one point didn't mean that he would get any sympathy. Thus, he had to succeed in his mission.

He'd brought a fine crew of sailors with him, who had stuck with him when times got hard. They'd embraced many a storm over the past few months, and at many points, they'd thought they would be wiped off this mortal coil and forgotten about completely. They'd faced numerous mythical beasts, which many of the men hadn't believed existed until they'd encountered them, they'd been given a barrage of arrows by a hostile group of uncivilised brutes when they'd sailed too far to the land, leading to the death of one of their men, who they had mourned, and they had to stop on land a while later to start a fire and properly cremate him in accordance with Sannerlander tradition. He wasn't a noble, just a regular commoner, like most sailors, so he wasn't entitled to his own funeral pyre, which would have been hard for them to pull off.

However, they were about to land in Lolede. The land was prominent on the horizon; it was not distant, it was up close. He turned to one of his crew and asked them to make sure the flag was visible. A design that had persisted since the founding of the Most Serene Republic, the banner consisted of an off-centre white cross on a black field and had resulted from a design on shields, representing a sword, which Sannerlander folklore considered to give a warrior strength on the battlefield. It was also a distinctive design, which signified to all who saw it that the vessel was from Sannerby-Annestad, which would mean that they would normally be granted access.


After they landed there was nothing but a short stroll through a completely unfamiliar land to a palace. It was a marvelous place, with architecture so well-done it was barely comprehensible to the minds of the Sannerby-Annestader delegation. The palaces that served to hold the Republic's government were exquisite, but compared to this place they may well have been some crucks on a farm in Kabryon. They were soon greeted with the presence of the Aeternaean officials as they stepped through the door. Efficiency was a concept which extended outside of the Sannerland.
PT puppet of Crylante. An aristocratic Swedish merchant republic.

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Kabryon
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 4
Founded: Jan 13, 2018
Corporate Police State

Postby Kabryon » Thu Jan 18, 2018 4:17 pm

On the edge of the congregating party, holding a tankard of ale at chest height, Valterri stood glaring at the guests. For what reason he was forced to deal with the worthless outsiders, rather than organizing soldiers for the subjugation of Kabryon's enemies, he could not grasp. He scowled as he took a large drink from his beverage, hoping to remove himself from the situation as much as possible. His eyes scanned the noble guests entering the hall, mostly nobles, irrelevant to him. but then he saw him, and rose immediately. The next guest to enter was unmistakable, a filthy Sannerlander. he didn't know much of this particular enemy, but he knew enough to know his name. "Is that a...by Tehovii...Eerik!" He motioned to his retainer. "That one there is a Sannerlander, name of Nykvist, correct?"

Eerik took a long moment to examine the new arrival. "Yes, milord, I believe he is. A notable sailor, very well known in the region. However, I wouldn't recommend you started any trouble. it could give a terrible impression to-" Valterri cut him off. "yes, Eerik, I know. I may be brash, but i am not an idiot. For now, I will sit back and hope to avoid him. However, if the situation gets too out of hand..." he trailed off, solidifying his point. Eerik returned to watching the doors. Somehow he knew this would end horribly.
Last edited by Kabryon on Thu Jan 18, 2018 4:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Aeternaea
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Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Thu Jan 18, 2018 7:51 pm

Sannerby-Annestad wrote:Alvar Nykvist stood on the deck of the Spindel, one of many ships in Sannerby-Annestad's fleet of merchant vessels. He had sailed across the sea for months to get there, encountering hazards many would perish in, but he was a Sannerlander. It was in his blood. No matter what, nobody could take the city state's nautical prowess away from them. They had a trade empire rivaling all others, spanning much of the world. There seemed to be no place on Gwalethia their empire didn't reach, apart from one exception. The isolationist empire of Aeternaea. However, that was where he was sailing now.

It seemed a lifetime ago when his cousin, Sven Grahn, Hertig of This Most Serene Republic of Sannerby-Annestad, had invited him to the Palace of the Hertigar to give him a mission. This mission was to sail the seas of Gwalethia to get to the Free State of Lolede, the only area of Aeternaea foreigners were allowed in, and attend a gala to talk to Aeternaean government officials about trading rights of the Republic. If he succeeded, Sven Grahn would ordain him and his family into the city's noble class, a status reserved for only the most privileged in Sannerby-Annestader society. Out of the Republic's 120 thousand residents, only three hundred of them were considered nobility. If he failed, he would surely be executed in whatever sadistic manner the Lagting thought of next. Just because his father's sister happened to marry into the nobility and have a son who happened to become one of the Hertigar at one point didn't mean that he would get any sympathy. Thus, he had to succeed in his mission.

He'd brought a fine crew of sailors with him, who had stuck with him when times got hard. They'd embraced many a storm over the past few months, and at many points, they'd thought they would be wiped off this mortal coil and forgotten about completely. They'd faced numerous mythical beasts, which many of the men hadn't believed existed until they'd encountered them, they'd been given a barrage of arrows by a hostile group of uncivilised brutes when they'd sailed too far to the land, leading to the death of one of their men, who they had mourned, and they had to stop on land a while later to start a fire and properly cremate him in accordance with Sannerlander tradition. He wasn't a noble, just a regular commoner, like most sailors, so he wasn't entitled to his own funeral pyre, which would have been hard for them to pull off.

However, they were about to land in Lolede. The land was prominent on the horizon; it was not distant, it was up close. He turned to one of his crew and asked them to make sure the flag was visible. A design that had persisted since the founding of the Most Serene Republic, the banner consisted of an off-centre white cross on a black field and had resulted from a design on shields, representing a sword, which Sannerlander folklore considered to give a warrior strength on the battlefield. It was also a distinctive design, which signified to all who saw it that the vessel was from Sannerby-Annestad, which would mean that they would normally be granted access.


After they landed there was nothing but a short stroll through a completely unfamiliar land to a palace. It was a marvelous place, with architecture so well-done it was barely comprehensible to the minds of the Sannerby-Annestader delegation. The palaces that served to hold the Republic's government were exquisite, but compared to this place they may well have been some crucks on a farm in Kabryon. They were soon greeted with the presence of the Aeternaean officials as they stepped through the door. Efficiency was a concept which extended outside of the Sannerland.


Lady W'Zae'Nae approaches the delegates from Sannerby-Annestad gracefully, and curtsies with a smile, "Greetings delegates from the north, you have travelled far to come to our humble land. We hope that you will be pleased with all you see here." She says with a gleeful expression. "We are sure that you are here for many reasons, but before all of that we would like to say that we hope the Eternal Throne may bless you eternally."

She takes a few steps back to pivot and reveal a courier carrying two scrolls. "As a welcoming gift to this city, we would like to present you with the following." She takes the first scroll and hands it to the delegates. "This is a map of the frozen sea to the south, which should allow you to navigate better around there. We are sure you are already great at navigating it, but as we live here, there may be routes on this map that you have not had the manpower to attempt yet. We hope it is of use in the future." She hands it over to the delegate.

She turns around again, this time as if she were an excited child. She takes the scroll very carefully, almost as if it would break by faintest touch of air. "This one, dear guests, is a very important one to any of Aeternaea. It is a Holy Edict, written up by the Eternal Senate, signed by the Second Prince -- on behalf of the Ten Families. To us, any holy edict is of great importance." She hands it over very gently, hoping that the guests would take care of it just as she had. "Although it is merely a Holy Edict, and not an Eternal Edict, it is still of great value. In it, it states that Count Ae'Wa'Ee vi Xi'Nae is to accompany the holder for a period of three months, in order to better build relations. This is not a declaration of servitude, but an agreement that they will accompany the holder, and should the holder wish to send them away, they will comply immediately. " She frowns at that. "I do hope that these gifts are to your liking?" she questions. "We understand that the second one is not a traditional gift, but to a merchant nation, we believe that it is the best choice, as it would allow for your people to understand our people, which may lead to a prosperous future." She comments. "Of course, if it is not to your liking, there's another option you may have, but you would need to inform me of it later."

After giving the gifts, she smiles and curtsies once more. "I hope you enjoy the festivities. We shall be moving to the next stage of this great event shortly, so do go have fun and mingle. We are sure there will be a lot for you to do. If there's anything at all you will be needing, please do not hesitate to ask." She walks away in an elegant manner, moving as if it were a dance, heading towards the next delegates.

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Kroghaz
Political Columnist
 
Posts: 2
Founded: Jan 14, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby Kroghaz » Fri Jan 19, 2018 2:58 pm

Nothing had been as reliving to the Gulzar and the rest of the Khrogazi party then when they reached The Free-State of Lolede, its cold being immediately comforting to the half-orc-half-humans. The journey south had been nothing but an annoyance ever since leaving the north, the gradual increase in heat becoming almost unbearable, eventually forcing them to take passage by sea shortly after reaching the border with Seba Kemet, albeit at an annoying cost. Southerners were a greedy bunch, of this Gulzar was more than sure. The lack of relative comforts or easy living had shaped the Kroghazi into a people that were accommodating to those that needed it, however distrusting of strangers, as was life north of Kabryon.

Reaching the palace gates and entering the hall, the group were taken aback by the almost sweltering heat they were greeted by compared to the outside. The biting winds, of which Gulzar preferred, were replaced by some heat, yet he could see no fire. From the looks the party gathered, it was clear no one had expected the Khrogazi to venture this far south, although he was sure that stories of the monstrous men being spotted would've made their rounds. Gulzar himself was a relatively impressive Khrogazi. Standing two or so heads above a normal human, rivalling that of the beastmen, while his shoulders were more than the width of two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder. His body was several times larger than that of southern men, defined from decades of hard living in the far reaches of Khrogaz. His skin was a patchy mix of the grey-and-white skin expected of Northern Orcs. His companions, Fulz and Grogan, looked similar to him, with only their eyes and patches of white and grey being the deciding factor, with Gulzar's eyes being a piercing blue like that of a winter mornings sky.

Gulzar wore nothing impressive, likewise with two other men he had travelled with. He had a simple kilt made of Great Red Wolf skin, the colour bordering on orange with hints of brown and black running along the mix, and on his back he had a cloak of [url:https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/0f/00/76/57/wooly-rhino-he-was-sweet.jpg]North Hudar[/url] fur, albeit significantly reduced in size, with its massive horn shaved down, however it was still a sight to behold. Underneath his cloak was nothing but a series of leather strings on which increasingly large teeth were held.

Clearing his throat, he began to speak, his voice deep and foreign "I am Gulzar Frostborne of the Khrogazi, Grand Chief of the Krazburn, or as I believe you have named it, the Northern Wastes. Travelling far, far outside of the realm of the Eternal Beings, we have brought gifts. Of course, in our language, this kingdom is referred to as 'The Land of Everything', and what do you get the Land that has everything?." he paused, before barking an order in Orcish, a harsh sounding language to anyone not familiar with it. Without a moment of hesitation, Fulz slid his pack from his back and opened it. From within, he pulled out a cloth covered gift. Removing the cloth, underneath lay a staff unlike any other. It's shaft was of a cruel look, blackened and gnarled in reflection of where it had come from, while on top stood a stone that shone a thousand colours while also looking as though those same colours were attempting to break from its stone prison. "This is the Staff of Arazmaz. It is made with a branch of the Orguz Tree, one blackened with an explosion of magic in our realm a thousand years ago, while the stone is found in an area I myself am unaware of. The Staff is only gifted unto those that the Khrogazi believe embody the spirit of the Welcoming Flame. To add to this, we have brought something that the Khrogazi would trade anything for." Following another order being barked, Grogan dropped his sack and, upon opening it, took out a glass container. Within lay a branch of a tree, but not just any tree. The colours of the tree shone brightly and seemed to be waving as though it were liquid, changing between the colours of green, yellow, and blue. Gulzar began to speak "This is the branch of the Biotle. In the North, magic has a strong hold and as such imbues itself within the very sky. Every millennia, the sky gifts the earth with its lights and imbues it within the trees, always along the border of Where-Trees-Do-Not-Grow." he finished, motioning for people to come closer to inspect the items.

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Ulskar
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Ulskar » Fri Jan 19, 2018 8:51 pm

Prince Gysbert of House Crom was no stranger to Lolede. In fact, he was what some might call bit of a celebrity. As the eldest son of King Adalbrant the Fair, the reigning monarch of Ulskar, much of his duties consisted of establishing his role as the future face of the realm. This meant attending balls and banquets, festivals and galas such as the one today. It was nearly dusk by the time his party arrived, the Loledian guards recognizing his carriage from a mile away. "Hail, and well met, Good Prince Gysbert of Ulskar" they'd say in Common. "Welcome to Yaquz'azraq."

One of his retainers opened the carriage door, and out stepped the prince into the biting cold. He shifted the furs on his shoulders, and entered the palace, enjoying heated halls he found ever-so-familiar from his frequent visits to this land. Both Ulskar and Aeternaea had become rich through the mutually profitable trade agreements they kept with one another, and Prince Gysbert was here today to keep the status quo. Not only that, he was also planning to mingle with the other lords and ladies in attendance, and secure further deals for the realm where possible. Scratching his trimmed beard, he surveyed the main hall where the event had already begun, scouting for key figures marked by their over-the-top elegant dress, before he was surprised by a velvet voice bearing a warm welcome.

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Aeternaea
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Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Fri Jan 19, 2018 11:25 pm

Kroghaz wrote:Nothing had been as reliving to the Gulzar and the rest of the Khrogazi party then when they reached The Free-State of Lolede, its cold being immediately comforting to the half-orc-half-humans. The journey south had been nothing but an annoyance ever since leaving the north, the gradual increase in heat becoming almost unbearable, eventually forcing them to take passage by sea shortly after reaching the border with Seba Kemet, albeit at an annoying cost. Southerners were a greedy bunch, of this Gulzar was more than sure. The lack of relative comforts or easy living had shaped the Kroghazi into a people that were accommodating to those that needed it, however distrusting of strangers, as was life north of Kabryon.

Reaching the palace gates and entering the hall, the group were taken aback by the almost sweltering heat they were greeted by compared to the outside. The biting winds, of which Gulzar preferred, were replaced by some heat, yet he could see no fire. From the looks the party gathered, it was clear no one had expected the Khrogazi to venture this far south, although he was sure that stories of the monstrous men being spotted would've made their rounds. Gulzar himself was a relatively impressive Khrogazi. Standing two or so heads above a normal human, rivalling that of the beastmen, while his shoulders were more than the width of two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder. His body was several times larger than that of southern men, defined from decades of hard living in the far reaches of Khrogaz. His skin was a patchy mix of the grey-and-white skin expected of Northern Orcs. His companions, Fulz and Grogan, looked similar to him, with only their eyes and patches of white and grey being the deciding factor, with Gulzar's eyes being a piercing blue like that of a winter mornings sky.

Gulzar wore nothing impressive, likewise with two other men he had travelled with. He had a simple kilt made of Great Red Wolf skin, the colour bordering on orange with hints of brown and black running along the mix, and on his back he had a cloak of [url:https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/0f/00/76/57/wooly-rhino-he-was-sweet.jpg]North Hudar[/url] fur, albeit significantly reduced in size, with its massive horn shaved down, however it was still a sight to behold. Underneath his cloak was nothing but a series of leather strings on which increasingly large teeth were held.

Clearing his throat, he began to speak, his voice deep and foreign "I am Gulzar Frostborne of the Khrogazi, Grand Chief of the Krazburn, or as I believe you have named it, the Northern Wastes. Travelling far, far outside of the realm of the Eternal Beings, we have brought gifts. Of course, in our language, this kingdom is referred to as 'The Land of Everything', and what do you get the Land that has everything?." he paused, before barking an order in Orcish, a harsh sounding language to anyone not familiar with it. Without a moment of hesitation, Fulz slid his pack from his back and opened it. From within, he pulled out a cloth covered gift. Removing the cloth, underneath lay a staff unlike any other. It's shaft was of a cruel look, blackened and gnarled in reflection of where it had come from, while on top stood a stone that shone a thousand colours while also looking as though those same colours were attempting to break from its stone prison. "This is the Staff of Arazmaz. It is made with a branch of the Orguz Tree, one blackened with an explosion of magic in our realm a thousand years ago, while the stone is found in an area I myself am unaware of. The Staff is only gifted unto those that the Khrogazi believe embody the spirit of the Welcoming Flame. To add to this, we have brought something that the Khrogazi would trade anything for." Following another order being barked, Grogan dropped his sack and, upon opening it, took out a glass container. Within lay a branch of a tree, but not just any tree. The colours of the tree shone brightly and seemed to be waving as though it were liquid, changing between the colours of green, yellow, and blue. Gulzar began to speak "This is the branch of the Biotle. In the North, magic has a strong hold and as such imbues itself within the very sky. Every millennia, the sky gifts the earth with its lights and imbues it within the trees, always along the border of Where-Trees-Do-Not-Grow." he finished, motioning for people to come closer to inspect the items.


Lady W'Zae'Nae approaches the delegation from Khrogazi and curtsies before them with a smile. "Greetings fair delegates! We thank you greatly for these gifts, we are sure we can find a great place for them." She says gently. She leans in to whisper gently, "I understand your discomfort, there is a room that you may go to that is chilled; the Sculpted Lodge, it is a room that is kept in a freezing temperature. Few would be there."

She leans back and then gestures towards the gifts that are approaching, "These are for you, our esteemed guests. We understand that you are a strong people. As such, we would like to grant you these Aeternaean Steel-Made Logging Tools. They are unlikely to ever break, even in the extreme cold of the north. In fact, if they ever do, you may return here to get them repaired." She smiles as they are being handed over and then continues, "In addition, we would like to give you these wines that are straight from the Central Heartlands, the lands of the Eternal Palace itself. These wines will cool your bodies and calm your minds. They are exceedingly valuable, and we ask that you only keep them to yourselves, as the Eternal Throne would be displeased otherwise... the wines were granted to you directly from the third prince."

After giving these gifts, she allows the guests to examine them thoroughly. "Please enjoy them to the fullest, and please enjoy all that our hospitality can grant. If you ever need anything, please ask me or my colleagues and we will be happy to help." She smiles and curtsies, "Now please excuse me as I attend to our next guests, and please enjoy yourselves." She gleeful walks away with a smile.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Fri Jan 19, 2018 11:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Aeternaea
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Sat Jan 20, 2018 12:50 am

Ulskar wrote:Prince Gysbert of House Crom was no stranger to Lolede. In fact, he was what some might call bit of a celebrity. As the eldest son of King Adalbrant the Fair, the reigning monarch of Ulskar, much of his duties consisted of establishing his role as the future face of the realm. This meant attending balls and banquets, festivals and galas such as the one today. It was nearly dusk by the time his party arrived, the Loledian guards recognizing his carriage from a mile away. "Hail, and well met, Good Prince Gysbert of Ulskar" they'd say in Common. "Welcome to Yaquz'azraq."

One of his retainers opened the carriage door, and out stepped the prince into the biting cold. He shifted the furs on his shoulders, and entered the palace, enjoying heated halls he found ever-so-familiar from his frequent visits to this land. Both Ulskar and Aeternaea had become rich through the mutually profitable trade agreements they kept with one another, and Prince Gysbert was here today to keep the status quo. Not only that, he was also planning to mingle with the other lords and ladies in attendance, and secure further deals for the realm where possible. Scratching his trimmed beard, he surveyed the main hall where the event had already begun, scouting for key figures marked by their over-the-top elegant dress, before he was surprised by a velvet voice bearing a warm welcome.


"Welcome dear prince!" A voice said in excitement as Lady W'Zae'Nae came gracefully over as if she were in a dance. "It's been so long Gys- I mean Prince Gysbert." She corrected herself, remembering that this was a formal occasion. "We are so glad to have you here! You've also arrived fashionably late I see! Just as we were about to close the great gates." She said, almost as if she were slightly scolding him, in a playful manner. "Let me lead you in." Her cheery voice said anew.

As they walked into the palace, they discussed how things have been, until she leads him into the main hall with all the other guests. Then, she stands firmly as a professional host and opens her arms wide as retainers on either side of her approach bearing gifts. "Dear prince, we've gathered special gifts for you. Two in fact! The first is a ring that comes directly from the vi Rho family. This ring, made of pure platinum, bearing the emblem of the vi Rho companion of the Throne, was one of two worn by the founder of house vi Bak'Dea. Blessed by the Eternal Throne itself; to gift it away, father had to plead directly to the Throne and get a Holy Edict!" She hands the ring over in a sealed case. "In addition to this, we would like to award you with this Holy Edict." She hands it over. "It reads: the three Families of Lolede; members of the Ten Great Families of Aeternaea, have granted Prince Gysbert of House Crom the honorary title of 'F'Rho'Tae Liu'O'Liu'Eee', or 'Friend of Lolede'. Requiring not only approval of the Ten Families, but also of the Eternal Senate! It is especially rare, as the Eternal Throne had not vetoed it, making you the third person in history to be granted this title among outsiders!" She cheerfully claps her hands together and dances in delight.

She steadies herself once more and then curtsies. "Dear prince, please enjoy yourself, I must go meet the other hosts so that we can begin the next step. If you need anything, please find one of us." She smiles and heads over to the other hosts, who are already mid-preparation for the next phase of the event...
Last edited by Aeternaea on Sat Jan 20, 2018 4:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Aeternaea
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Stage II: The Dance of Eternity, and The Endless Feast

Postby Aeternaea » Sat Jan 20, 2018 4:20 pm

In this stage the attending guests will be able to interact with people directly. Actions they can do are many, some examples are:

- They can attempt to broker agreements with each other informally, or formally.
- They can attempt to court attending guests.
- They can attempt to teach or learn from others.
- They can attempt to undermine other members attending.
- They can attempt to curry favour with important members of other nations.
- They can attempt to explore the palace with, or without a guide.
- They can attempt to try foods and wines from different regions, and see who would approach them.
- They can attempt many different things, it's up to your imagination.

(It is important to note, that I have several "reaction events" that can occur. For example, say a character decides to sit alone at a table, a reaction event could be that they are approached by one of the hosts, or a lesser noble attending from Aeternaea.)


P'ae'liu Aetae'Wi'Tae'Ne (Palace of the Eternal Winter): Waterfall Ballroom

Upon confirming that all the guests have arrived, Lady W'Zae'Nae heads back towards the other two hosts; Great Lord Kae'Kar'Dea, and Sea Lord Ys'P'Qin. She examines everything around her on her way there: the guests are full of enjoyment, there were a few close calls and near conflicts, but it seems that everyone is acting properly and nobly, a great sign for the success of this event. She started to wonder how things will go in the next stage, and whom would be trying to seek an audience with one, two, or all three of the hosts.

"Welcome back, Lady W'Zae'Nae." Said Kae'Kar'Dea in his typical professional tone. "I hope that everything went well?" He questions.

"Of course, Lord Kae'Kar'Dea. There were no issues whatsoever." She replies, bored of her own tone. "Shall I assume that the planning for the dance and feast are nearing completion?"

"Certainly." He responds, gesturing to the next room where the dance will take place. The room was huge, able to fit hundreds of people at the same time. It was modelled after the Northern Provinces Waterfalls, leading to its name "The Waterfall Ballroom". The walls were covered in rocks that were imported from the provinces, placed very carefully as to keep them as authentic as possible. The entrance being to the south, it was surrounded by two small waterfalls that gave off a scent of lavender. Directly parallel to it, at the northern face of the room; you would find a great waterfall, giving a nice and cool mist in the air, to cool down anyone who gets overheated. It smelled of the sea. Flanking it, on the western and eastern were waterfalls that mirrored one another; rather than falling straight down, they flowed in an angle, before being redirected into another angle, and then flowing down all of the cracks in the stonework on the wall, making it thousands of tiny waterfalls.

In the middle of the room was a large open space, where the dancing would take place. The floors were of marble; red and white, the colours of the Eternal Throne. The musicians would be playing from a balcony overlooking the entire room, accessible from grand stairs on the sides. To the east of the room would be a table full of exotic foods, drinks, and pastries, Lady W'Zae'Nae would make it certain that they always are fully stocked... it was of crucial importance to her that nobody go hungry, especially not herself. Opposite of it, on the eastern side, would be dining tables for guests to sit at. If any guests wished for privacy for meetings or to rest, hidden hallways, located just beneath the stairs going to the orchestra led to private rooms.

"Everything looks amazing Lord Kae'Kar'Dea." She turns towards Ys'P'Qin and continues, "How about your preparations? Are they ready?"

"Eh... yeah, I guess?" He states nonchalantly, before noticing Kae'Kar'Dea giving him a glare. "I mean... of course, they are! We'll give them a surprise they'd never expect. Something that, short of using magic, would not have been seen before!" He said in a prideful tone.

"Excellent!" W'Zae'Nae states, before turning to the room of guests and stepping forward, clearing her throat and stating, "to all our dear guests, please join myself and the other two hosts in the next room for the Dance of Eternity, and the Endless Feast! You will find everything you may desire in there, so please, follow me!" She says cheerily, leading the guests to the next room...
Last edited by Aeternaea on Sat Jan 20, 2018 9:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Seba Kemet
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Founded: May 11, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Seba Kemet » Sat Jan 20, 2018 10:25 pm

Having accepted the sword and provided effusive thanks, Merire had stood to one side, assessing the other guests. He was unsure his compliment to the Lady W'Zae'Nae (what names these foreigners came up with,) had translated properly, though. Had there been some slight flicker in her expression as he compared her beauty to that of Nut, the Great Celestial Cow? He gave an internal shrug as Sewa-Hes chimed and grumbled to himself in the language of the Iaart, virtually impossible for any other species to replicate without an accompanying orchestra of bells and rattles. Eventually he switched to redri'ret, the tones of the hollow rattles and bell-like organs shifting into a musically accented version of human speech.

"A great craft of god,
beautifully realized,
this weapon's form is.
A song of Ptah's mind born
given form on this base earth."

"And yet, their first gift to us is a sword. I cannot help but think this is an omen. And you, I cannot help but think showoff." Merire regarded his friend as the vine-like appendages carefully manipulated the sword, bringing it around to one of the large, yellow eyes. Another of those was turned on him, its pupil slightly elongated in what he had come to know as something like a grin.

"Craftsmanship in words to appreciate craftsmanship in metal, I merely do honor as one craftsman to another. But it is, perhaps, ominous." Sewa-Hes sheathed the weapon, casually lacing it about with tendrils from his main mass, "I have heard that these have something of a violent reputation."

"Toward those who would trespass upon their sacred ground, it seems. They treat their whole country as though it were the most holy-of-holies in the Royal Temple. And these merchant-princes of theirs strut about like royalty...we shall see if they even deign to acknowledge the true value of Pharaoh's gift."

At the signal to enter the next room, Merire gestured to his retinue and the whole gaggle of Deshi made their way into the ballroom. They looked about with polite interest, although many felt this whole arrangement rather stuffy and claustrophobic. Deshkhet's architecture was open and airy for the most part, given the weather, which verged from 'warm' to 'unbearably hot,' a typical wall in Deshkhet was a reed mat that could be folded away to let the air in. Only fortifications and the most sacred inner sanctums of temples were truly fully enclosed spaces.

Merire dismissed the entourage to do as they wished, whether to dance (if the locals knew any of the appropriate songs or dances, of course,) feast or engage in whatever other diversions were planned. Merire and a few others, Sewa-Hes amoung them, took their place at one of the dining tables, accepting a bit of the local fare with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

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Aeternaea
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Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Sat Jan 20, 2018 11:25 pm

Seba Kemet wrote:Having accepted the sword and provided effusive thanks, Merire had stood to one side, assessing the other guests. He was unsure his compliment to the Lady W'Zae'Nae (what names these foreigners came up with,) had translated properly, though. Had there been some slight flicker in her expression as he compared her beauty to that of Nut, the Great Celestial Cow? He gave an internal shrug as Sewa-Hes chimed and grumbled to himself in the language of the Iaart, virtually impossible for any other species to replicate without an accompanying orchestra of bells and rattles. Eventually he switched to redri'ret, the tones of the hollow rattles and bell-like organs shifting into a musically accented version of human speech.

"A great craft of god,
beautifully realized,
this weapon's form is.
A song of Ptah's mind born
given form on this base earth."

"And yet, their first gift to us is a sword. I cannot help but think this is an omen. And you, I cannot help but think showoff." Merire regarded his friend as the vine-like appendages carefully manipulated the sword, bringing it around to one of the large, yellow eyes. Another of those was turned on him, its pupil slightly elongated in what he had come to know as something like a grin.

"Craftsmanship in words to appreciate craftsmanship in metal, I merely do honor as one craftsman to another. But it is, perhaps, ominous." Sewa-Hes sheathed the weapon, casually lacing it about with tendrils from his main mass, "I have heard that these have something of a violent reputation."

"Toward those who would trespass upon their sacred ground, it seems. They treat their whole country as though it were the most holy-of-holies in the Royal Temple. And these merchant-princes of theirs strut about like royalty...we shall see if they even deign to acknowledge the true value of Pharaoh's gift."

At the signal to enter the next room, Merire gestured to his retinue and the whole gaggle of Deshi made their way into the ballroom. They looked about with polite interest, although many felt this whole arrangement rather stuffy and claustrophobic. Deshkhet's architecture was open and airy for the most part, given the weather, which verged from 'warm' to 'unbearably hot,' a typical wall in Deshkhet was a reed mat that could be folded away to let the air in. Only fortifications and the most sacred inner sanctums of temples were truly fully enclosed spaces.

Merire dismissed the entourage to do as they wished, whether to dance (if the locals knew any of the appropriate songs or dances, of course,) feast or engage in whatever other diversions were planned. Merire and a few others, Sewa-Hes amoung them, took their place at one of the dining tables, accepting a bit of the local fare with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.


"Good evening there, my esteemed guests!" a loud voice says approaching the table. "I hope you're all enjoying yourselves! I'm Ys'P'Qin! Sea Lord of Lolede. Nice to meet you." He does a half bow and then moves a few steps closer, not getting to close to invade personal space. "I hear you've come all the way from the far east? How was your journey?" He asked nonchalantly.

Lord Ys'P'Qin seemed to be genuinely interested in learning about their culture, but was not exactly sure of the best way to approach them, so as a result, he brought an icebreaker with him; a plate full of fully-roasted meat, with assorted vegetables. "Here's a special meal that I'm not sure you've tried before? We call it Hae'Kea'Fe'Tu'Ra... you can just call it Kefetu to make it simpler." He laughs a bit. He didn't hand it to them just yet, as he was trying to figure out whether or not it would be rude to hand them something, as it is to hand a Eternal Prince something.

After a while of thinking he just decided to go ahead and ask, "So... would it be rude if I offered you this food? It was cooked fresh, so nobody else has even gotten a chance to try this one yet!" He stands there waiting for the response...

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Seba Kemet
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Founded: May 11, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Seba Kemet » Sun Jan 21, 2018 1:01 am

"Good evening there, my esteemed guests!" a loud voice says approaching the table. "I hope you're all enjoying yourselves! I'm Ys'P'Qin! Sea Lord of Lolede. Nice to meet you." He does a half bow and then moves a few steps closer, not getting to close to invade personal space. "I hear you've come all the way from the far east? How was your journey?" He asked nonchalantly.

Lord Ys'P'Qin seemed to be genuinely interested in learning about their culture, but was not exactly sure of the best way to approach them, so as a result, he brought an icebreaker with him; a plate full of fully-roasted meat, with assorted vegetables. "Here's a special meal that I'm not sure you've tried before? We call it Hae'Kea'Fe'Tu'Ra... you can just call it Kefetu to make it simpler." He laughs a bit. He didn't hand it to them just yet, as he was trying to figure out whether or not it would be rude to hand them something, as it is to hand a Eternal Prince something.

After a while of thinking he just decided to go ahead and ask, "So... would it be rude if I offered you this food? It was cooked fresh, so nobody else has even gotten a chance to try this one yet!" He stands there waiting for the response...


Merire blinked at the man approaching their table before remembering to stand, presenting his open palms in a gesture of greeting, "May peace proceed you in all ways, my honored host. Indeed, the hospitality has been of the most excellent quality, to rival even the feasts of Hapi and Hathor on the days of harvest." The Deshi gestured for Ys'P'Qin to join them as he so pleased, "I am Merire, blessed with fine fortune to be the ambassador of Pharaoh Ma'atkare, may he reign eternally in prosperity, and my associate is Sewa-Hes of the Iaart, a master craftsman of our land. He would not be left behind lest his works be found wanting and he not there to rectify any shortcomings. And please, do lay your burden down."

Sewa-Hes quickly looped a tendril around some morsel as soon as the plate was on the table, the snared piece of meat vanishing within his body, presumably to some digestive organ. The mass of vegetation chimed something musical before speaking, "An excellent cook is always worth the gold he is paid, Ys'P'Qin, and yours must surely be paid his weight for this meal."

"To be sure, if the smell is any indication." Merire surveyed the plate, lacking in the flatbread typically used for holding food in his homeland, "You are certainly generous hosts to provide a meal with such spices. While Deshkhet is amply provided in such, cumin, coriander, peppercorns from the east and paprika from the west, others are seldom so well provided. Merchants from the west will pay several golden deben for even a small pouch of peppercorns, and sell it for much more at home. But please, it would not be seemly for I, as a guest, to leave my host to stand and watch as I ate."

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Mokranshi
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Founded: Jul 30, 2017
New York Times Democracy

Postby Mokranshi » Sun Jan 21, 2018 3:42 pm

Having followed the young noblewoman and the other guests into rather large room, elegantly scuplted and dripping with finery. Talak stuck closely to him, while he had sent Skullfinder back to the galley with the warmblood woman's gifts. The beast man had been insistent that he remain by the shaman's side, but Obur claimed that he would be fine, and besides, he could not spend the whole gala hauling around a painting and a jewelry box, pretty though they may have been. With a grunt, Skullfinder galloped back to the docks, leaving Obur and Talak with the southerners. I'll have to remember to take a closer look at that chain, Obur thought. Understanding the warmbloods is the first step to reaching them. And that painting...winter enveloping Lolede. Now that's a thought. But never mind that now..

To Obur's understanding, this was where the dancing was to take place. Truly, he was curious about the proceeding events. He had never seen warmbloods dance before, let alone their nobles. Oh, he had heard stories and read runes about warmblood customs, of their elegant waltzes and gowns, how they swayed across the floor like so many gentle snowflakes. It sounded like nothing back in Mokranshi. Back home, the dances were wild, untamed. They jumped and stomped like madmen to the rhythms of so many massive drums, kicking up snow and howling to the sky, as if they were beseeching Mulcarn Himself to look upon their jubilee. But they weren't in Mokranshi right now.

Obur's gaze flicked around the room. He spotted the swarthy southern human with the many followers. His 'demon-moss', as Skullfinder had so eloquently put it, was singing some sort of song that almost sounded decipherable. A great curiosity, to be sure. Who had thought the southern lands harbored living, singing plants? Looking to his side, he noticed Talak was also staring, though not at the performance. He followed his gaze, then lightly tapped his assistant, who jumped.
'Entranced by the Lady N'Wae'Zae, boy?' Obur said in Mokrani.
Pausing, Talak responded, 'No, mighty shaman. I was observing the festivities of the southern folk.'
Obur raised a brow. 'Boy, if you're going to lie to a shaman, you'd best practice on someone a little more foolish first. And please rein yourself in. We don't want a repeat of the incident in Far Hakon, now do we?'
'No, mighty shaman...' Talak might've blushed if the blood in his veins wasn't frozen.
'Good lad. Now, I will be off consorting with the Khograzian representative. I know Orcish well enough, so you need not worry about speaking for me. Go off and enjoy those festivities you're so intrigued by, but please stay out of trouble. You know where to find me. I'm hard to miss in a crowd of warmbloods, even ones as...varied as these.'
Yes, understood, mighty shaman. Thank you mighty shaman.' Talak trotted off to the many displays of food, eager to try out the exotic flavors of the south.

Meanwhile, Obur made his way towards the imposing half-orc. When he was sure the he had mottled giant's attention, he closed his fist and crossed it across his chest before opening his hand and holding it up, a more traditional greeting in Mokranshi, and one he was hoping the half-orc would respond to more willingly. Obur began to speak in the guttural Orcish tongue, 'Greetings, great Gulzar Frostborne, Grand Chief of the Krazburn. I am Obur Khagan of Mokranshi, Shaman of Sikanna. I speak on behalf of Farseer Resak Sikanna, who sends his regards and prays that the winters be good to your people. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. It is rare to find another son of the north so far south. I pray that your voyage was a pleasant one and your stay here has been well so far? The southern folk have a curious art to their construction, do they not? I trust you have seen the Sculpted Lodge? Quite a work of art, that. While it's a far cry from the true north, I did not think them capable of creating such lodgings.
'Anyhow, I know you are a busy man and I shall not waste your time any longer. I come to speak to you of a matter important to both our peoples. It concerns the Messengers of Mulcarn. Perhaps you have seen them? I know they spend many of their days wandering the north and I would not be surprised if a few had come close to the lands of Khrogaz. You see, they seek out peoples of the north, those who live outside Mokranshi, and teach them the ways of winter. Only the Shamans and Seers are wiser than them on the workings of the north. Now, being children of the north yourselves, the Krazburn know better than many on how to survive the cold. However, I do not belittle your people's accomplishments when I say there is more to gain from winter. Your people's gift for survival is unmatched. With the lessons that the Messengers have to offer you, the Krazburn can learn to truly make winter their own. That is why I come to you. I wish to petition you for the free movement of the Messengers of Mulcarn through the lands of Khrogaz, that they be allowed to teach the Krazburn the ways of winter and help forge them...into something more.' Obur finished his piece with a pleasant smile as his icy eyes met those of the mighty half-orc.
Last edited by Mokranshi on Mon Jan 22, 2018 10:31 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Sannerby-Annestad
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Founded: Aug 31, 2017
Free-Market Paradise

Postby Sannerby-Annestad » Mon Jan 22, 2018 10:22 am

Nykvist had thanked the hostess for the gifts that the Aeternaeans had prepared for them. They'd been given a map of the seas, which would surely be useful in navigating a more successful course home to the Most Serene Republic. The Holy Edict would prove useful, too, he could negotiate trade terms between the Most Serene Republic and the Eternal Throne, and thus he would be guaranteed his induction into the nobility that Sven had promised him. Although, Sven would most likely not be a Hertigar when he came back; a man would only hold the position for a year before being replaced. But any successors would be an idiot not to appoint him; he'd secured them a major market that they currently had no access to, and thus they should be grateful.

There was one sight he was not happy to see. Two men were standing there, although Nykvist did not believe they deserved to associate themselves with mankind. They were from Kabryon, the backwards monarchy that surrounded them and kept the rest of the Sannerland back. It was simply against the natural order of things; the Sannerlanders had been created from the foam of the sea in the image of the gods, and had risen from it and claimed the Sannerland for themselves, while the Kabryonic people, if they could be called that, were probably descended from swine. Their population lived in mud huts and were in league with the jotnar; at least their practices of seidr suggested they were.

However, he and his two companions walked into the hall. They stood together as the hosts explained the premise of the ball. One of the hosts called themselves the "Sea Lord of Lolede", and the name of "sea lord" made Nykvist think he sounded like some kind of Sannerlander; they were evidently lords of the sea, with their trade empire and seafaring ways; Nykvist felt more at home at sea than at land. But still, the Aeternaeans were obviously competent sailors, and while Nykvist disapproved of their monarchism, believing in a republic based on the principles of sortition and estates, he was an admirer of their views; they promoted the same attitude as the Most Serene Republic concerning magic and were an admirable people.

Unfortunately, Nykvist did not know how to dance. Dancing was a hobby enjoyed by the nobility of the city; it was not something that merchants like him enjoyed. He was not of the social affluence that enjoyed such pursuits; he was of the burgher class, along with the senior civil servants and guild leaders; his class was considered equal to the clergy and the peasantry1 in practise; while he was below the nobility, he was above the commoners. His companions being mere commoners, low members of the sailor's guild, they would certainly not know how to dance. As good as they were at playing cards, they would not know how to engage in such a noble pursuit.
PT puppet of Crylante. An aristocratic Swedish merchant republic.

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Aeternaea
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Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Mon Jan 22, 2018 3:44 pm

Seba Kemet wrote:"Good evening there, my esteemed guests!" a loud voice says approaching the table. "I hope you're all enjoying yourselves! I'm Ys'P'Qin! Sea Lord of Lolede. Nice to meet you." He does a half bow and then moves a few steps closer, not getting to close to invade personal space. "I hear you've come all the way from the far east? How was your journey?" He asked Lord Ys'P'Qin seemed to be genuinely interested in learning about their culture, but was not exactly sure of the best way to approach them, so as a result, he brought an icebreaker with him; a plate full of fully-roasted meat, with assorted vegetables. "Here's a special meal that I'm not sure you've tried before? We call it Hae'Kea'Fe'Tu'Ra... you can just call it Kefetu to make it simpler." He laughs a bit. He didn't hand it to them just yet, as he was trying to figure out whether or not it would be rude to hand them something, as it is to hand a Eternal Prince something.

After a while of thinking he just decided to go ahead and ask, "So... would it be rude if I offered you this food? It was cooked fresh, so nobody else has even gotten a chance to try this one yet!" He stands there waiting for the response...


Merire blinked at the man approaching their table before remembering to stand, presenting his open palms in a gesture of greeting, "May peace proceed you in all ways, my honored host. Indeed, the hospitality has been of the most excellent quality, to rival even the feasts of Hapi and Hathor on the days of harvest." The Deshi gestured for Ys'P'Qin to join them as he so pleased, "I am Merire, blessed with fine fortune to be the ambassador of Pharaoh Ma'atkare, may he reign eternally in prosperity, and my associate is Sewa-Hes of the Iaart, a master craftsman of our land. He would not be left behind lest his works be found wanting and he not there to rectify any shortcomings. And please, do lay your burden down."

Sewa-Hes quickly looped a tendril around some morsel as soon as the plate was on the table, the snared piece of meat vanishing within his body, presumably to some digestive organ. The mass of vegetation chimed something musical before speaking, "An excellent cook is always worth the gold he is paid, Ys'P'Qin, and yours must surely be paid his weight for this meal."

"To be sure, if the smell is any indication." Merire surveyed the plate, lacking in the flatbread typically used for holding food in his homeland, "You are certainly generous hosts to provide a meal with such spices. While Deshkhet is amply provided in such, cumin, coriander, peppercorns from the east and paprika from the west, others are seldom so well provided. Merchants from the west will pay several golden deben for even a small pouch of peppercorns, and sell it for much more at home. But please, it would not be seemly for I, as a guest, to leave my host to stand and watch as I ate."


Ys'P'Qin pulls up a chair, literally, and sits in it. "Why thanks for allowing me to join ya!" He says with a smile. For all the formality and grace of Lady W'Zae'Nae, Lord Ys'P'Qin seems to be lacking in it. His approach seems to be a more open-aired, casual one. "I am glad you're enjoying the meal. I bet you're tired from such a long journey, huh? Don't you worry, this will be an evening you'll never forget!" He says, fully proud of himself.

He gestures towards a server, and instantly they run over carrying a jug of wine. "Thanks there!" He takes the wine and places it on the table. "Now, my friends --- err, my dear guests." He struggled to correct himself, visibly trying to be formal. "This wine is a luxury, that even we ten families have trouble finding sometimes." He pours everyone a generous glass. "I'll be honest, I'm not the greatest at these events. I'm more akin to exploration of the seas. However, I do love meeting foreigners. So, would you please do me the honour of telling me about your homeland?" He asks, with curious eyes. "The Throne back home will be glad to learn of foreign lands!" His exclamation is filled with excitement as he drinks some of the wine.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Tue Jan 23, 2018 7:14 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Aeternaea
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 53
Founded: Dec 12, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aeternaea » Tue Jan 23, 2018 10:21 am

Sannerby-Annestad wrote:Nykvist had thanked the hostess for the gifts that the Aeternaeans had prepared for them. They'd been given a map of the seas, which would surely be useful in navigating a more successful course home to the Most Serene Republic. The Holy Edict would prove useful, too, he could negotiate trade terms between the Most Serene Republic and the Eternal Throne, and thus he would be guaranteed his induction into the nobility that Sven had promised him. Although, Sven would most likely not be a Hertigar when he came back; a man would only hold the position for a year before being replaced. But any successors would be an idiot not to appoint him; he'd secured them a major market that they currently had no access to, and thus they should be grateful.

There was one sight he was not happy to see. Two men were standing there, although Nykvist did not believe they deserved to associate themselves with mankind. They were from Kabryon, the backwards monarchy that surrounded them and kept the rest of the Sannerland back. It was simply against the natural order of things; the Sannerlanders had been created from the foam of the sea in the image of the gods, and had risen from it and claimed the Sannerland for themselves, while the Kabryonic people, if they could be called that, were probably descended from swine. Their population lived in mud huts and were in league with the jotnar; at least their practices of seidr suggested they were.

However, he and his two companions walked into the hall. They stood together as the hosts explained the premise of the ball. One of the hosts called themselves the "Sea Lord of Lolede", and the name of "sea lord" made Nykvist think he sounded like some kind of Sannerlander; they were evidently lords of the sea, with their trade empire and seafaring ways; Nykvist felt more at home at sea than at land. But still, the Aeternaeans were obviously competent sailors, and while Nykvist disapproved of their monarchism, believing in a republic based on the principles of sortition and estates, he was an admirer of their views; they promoted the same attitude as the Most Serene Republic concerning magic and were an admirable people.

Unfortunately, Nykvist did not know how to dance. Dancing was a hobby enjoyed by the nobility of the city; it was not something that merchants like him enjoyed. He was not of the social affluence that enjoyed such pursuits; he was of the burgher class, along with the senior civil servants and guild leaders; his class was considered equal to the clergy and the peasantry1 in practise; while he was below the nobility, he was above the commoners. His companions being mere commoners, low members of the sailor's guild, they would certainly not know how to dance. As good as they were at playing cards, they would not know how to engage in such a noble pursuit.


Upon seeing that Nykvist was not joining the dance or the feast, Lady W'Zae'Nae dances her way towards him and curtsies, "Lord Nykvist?" She says with her musical voice. "I can see that you are perhaps having a hard time choosing what to do first! Perhaps you would like to join my younger sister, Lady W'Tae'Ys? This is her first formal gala, and she would love to perhaps dance with a foreign adventurer such as yourself?" She smiles at the statement. "Or perhaps, should you be more interested in feasting, you could always go and join the nobles at the banquet tables?" She gestures over towards the tables where many nobles are convening to feast together. "The other option, should you wish to get some fresh, albeit cold, air; is the Tower of the Moon. From there you can see all of Yaqul'azraq, and the Loledan Sea. If you wish for this, I could point you in the right direction?" Upon giving the options, she stands and smiles gently, awaiting the response.

At this time, the next song began, a slow and elegant one. She turns to watch as nobles and merchants from across Aeternaea begin to dance with one another; temporarily blurring the lines between classes, as is a tradition in Aeternaean dances. To show that, although people come from different social standings, they are all still the same in the end; mortals. It even got to the point that the staff, those whom were on a break, began to join in the dance, although they did not go beyond their social standing... until a young noblewoman, probably someone related to the thirty-two lower families, walked over to a young waitress and asked her to dance. After this, they began to intermingle and enjoy themselves more.

Lady W'Zae'Nae turns back towards Nykvist and asks, "I do hope that one of the options I presented is to your satisfaction?" she smiles. "If not, if there's anything else you would like to do, please let myself or one of my colleagues know and I am sure that we could arrange it." She lets her arms lie, clapsed together in front of her as she keeps her smile on her face; the lights causing her heterochromatic eyes to shine brightly. The music , the scent of the food, and the sounds of merriment filling the room around them. She seemed to genuinely wish for her guests to enjoy themselves, and use this opportunity to relax as best as they could.
Last edited by Aeternaea on Tue Jan 23, 2018 12:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Sannerby-Annestad
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 15
Founded: Aug 31, 2017
Free-Market Paradise

Postby Sannerby-Annestad » Tue Jan 23, 2018 11:32 am

Aeternaea wrote:
Sannerby-Annestad wrote:Nykvist had thanked the hostess for the gifts that the Aeternaeans had prepared for them. They'd been given a map of the seas, which would surely be useful in navigating a more successful course home to the Most Serene Republic. The Holy Edict would prove useful, too, he could negotiate trade terms between the Most Serene Republic and the Eternal Throne, and thus he would be guaranteed his induction into the nobility that Sven had promised him. Although, Sven would most likely not be a Hertigar when he came back; a man would only hold the position for a year before being replaced. But any successors would be an idiot not to appoint him; he'd secured them a major market that they currently had no access to, and thus they should be grateful.

There was one sight he was not happy to see. Two men were standing there, although Nykvist did not believe they deserved to associate themselves with mankind. They were from Kabryon, the backwards monarchy that surrounded them and kept the rest of the Sannerland back. It was simply against the natural order of things; the Sannerlanders had been created from the foam of the sea in the image of the gods, and had risen from it and claimed the Sannerland for themselves, while the Kabryonic people, if they could be called that, were probably descended from swine. Their population lived in mud huts and were in league with the jotnar; at least their practices of seidr suggested they were.

However, he and his two companions walked into the hall. They stood together as the hosts explained the premise of the ball. One of the hosts called themselves the "Sea Lord of Lolede", and the name of "sea lord" made Nykvist think he sounded like some kind of Sannerlander; they were evidently lords of the sea, with their trade empire and seafaring ways; Nykvist felt more at home at sea than at land. But still, the Aeternaeans were obviously competent sailors, and while Nykvist disapproved of their monarchism, believing in a republic based on the principles of sortition and estates, he was an admirer of their views; they promoted the same attitude as the Most Serene Republic concerning magic and were an admirable people.

Unfortunately, Nykvist did not know how to dance. Dancing was a hobby enjoyed by the nobility of the city; it was not something that merchants like him enjoyed. He was not of the social affluence that enjoyed such pursuits; he was of the burgher class, along with the senior civil servants and guild leaders; his class was considered equal to the clergy and the peasantry1 in practise; while he was below the nobility, he was above the commoners. His companions being mere commoners, low members of the sailor's guild, they would certainly not know how to dance. As good as they were at playing cards, they would not know how to engage in such a noble pursuit.


Upon seeing that Nykvist was not joining the dance or the feast, Lady W'Zae'Nae dances her way towards him and curtsies, "Lord Nykvist?" She says with her musical voice. "I can see that you are perhaps having a hard time choosing what to do first! Perhaps you would like to join my younger sister, Lady W'Tae'Ys? This is her first formal gala, and she would love to perhaps dance with a foreign adventurer such as yourself?" She smiles at the statement. "Or perhaps, should you be more interested in feasting, you could always go and join the nobles at the banquet tables?" She gestures over towards the tables where many nobles are convening to feast together. "The other option, should you wish to get some fresh, albeit cold, air; is the Tower of the Moon. From there you can see all of Tene'Dakn, and the Loledan Sea. If you wish for this, I could point you in the right direction?" Upon giving the options, she stands and smiles gently, awaiting the response.

At this time, the next song began, a slow and elegant one. She turns to watch as nobles and merchants from across Aeternaea begin to dance with one another; temporarily blurring the lines between classes, as is a tradition in Aeternaean dances. To show that, although people come from different social standings, they are all still the same in the end; mortals. It even got to the point that the staff, those whom were on a break, began to join in the dance, although they did not go beyond their social standing... until a young noblewoman, probably someone related to the thirty-two lower families, walked over to a young waitress and asked her to dance. After this, they began to intermingle and enjoy themselves more.

Lady W'Zae'Nae turns back towards Nykvist and asks, "I do hope that one of the options I presented is to your satisfaction?" she smiles. "If not, if there's anything else you would like to do, please let myself or one of my colleagues know and I am sure that we could arrange it." She lets her arms lie, clapsed together in front of her as she keeps her smile on her face; the lights causing her heterochromatic eyes to shine brightly. The music , the scent of the food, and the sounds of merriment filling the room around them. She seemed to genuinely wish for her guests to enjoy themselves, and use this opportunity to relax as best as they could.

"I think I'll go and join the nobles at the banquet tables. Unfortunately, I do not know how to dance. Dancing is a social event practised only by the nobility in the Most Serene Republic, and thus given my status in the burgher class it is not something I have ever been taught to do. However, I am sure I would be able to entertain the nobles with stories of our journey here and with information of a distant land, though." Nykvist replied.

He knew his place within society though; he should treat the nobles with respect. They were above him in the natural order of things; they gave him security and prosperity in response to his servitude. But unlike in some societies, such as the backwards Kabryonic wastelands around him, he was not in servitude to a specific noble back in the Most Serene Republic; in stead, he served them as a collective group; just like the clergy and peasants did, and like how the commoners served all the four above classes. However, they allowed his class to have a say in the government, which was good.

He noticed the spot that the Aeternaean noblewoman was talking about. He didn't speak Aeternaean and thus didn't know her name, but she seemed friendly enough. He approached the noblemen, his shoulder-length blonde hair flicking around as he did so, and dipped his head in courtesy. He asked them politely if he could sit in the empty space, and waited for their response.
PT puppet of Crylante. An aristocratic Swedish merchant republic.

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